Dylans Senior Year at College

DYLAN'S SENIOR YEAR AT COLLEGE

Chapter 59

by Donny Mumford

Saturday mornings are good mornings because we have the whole day ahead of us to do whatever we want, plus all day Sunday and Monday too. Then it's back to the grind on Tuesday, back to the academic portion of our college senior year but on Saturday mornings we're not thinking about that. So yeah, it's stress-free Saturdays for me, although a hangover may be an occasional bother.

BUT, today, this particular Saturday is a different story. This is the second morning in the past five days I'm feeling apprehensive and nervous because I need to do something important that intimidates me... interview for a job. It makes me uncomfortable too and that's because I feel as if I'm asking for something, asking someone to give me something. If I didn't personally know the people I'm interviewing with perhaps I'd feel differently about thinking I'm asking for a special favor. You'd think me knowing them would make it less nerve-racking, right? Nope, for me, it doesn't.

Last Monday's job interview with Dickers & Son had my nerves on edge too, but it turned out okay as far as I know. Even before the interview, Mr. Dickers basically guaranteed me I'd get hired when he told me to put his name as a reference on my job application, so my nervousness wasn't about being hired. No, it was about not embarrassing myself during my first ever job interview and, ya know, wondering what position I'd be offered.

At Dickers & Son, I had a general concern about HR people. Maybe it's unfounded but I'm thinking most HR people probably have a number one priority, an agenda first and foremost and it's to 'protect their own ass'. I figure it's human nature and so, consciously or unconsciously they're likely going to be looking hard for a negative 'anything' about me that might make them, the HR person, look bad should they recommend me for a position with the company. Maybe too much subjectivity on their part and not enough objectivity.

And I'm basing my concern partially on a study I read online. It was conducted by the Society of Human Resource Management and it concluded that 63% of hiring decisions are made during the first 4.3 minutes of the initial interview. The HR person's first impression, in other words. Those first four-minutes often determines who is recommended to move up the line to be interviewed by whoever makes the final decisions. I'm an inexperienced interviewee and nervous so is it out of the realm of possibility I come off as a dimwit saying dumb things during the first couple of minutes of the interview?

Today, my job interview is a totally different story though. In some respects anyway 'cause I'm having lunch with Tom and Tim Rider who happen to be engaged to marry my mom and Chubby's mom. It's also different from Monday's interview in that the twins' company is smaller and therefore they don't have an official HR department. The twins are the company's HR department, sort of. I especially feel like my interview with the twins is me asking for something, so I'm back to that concern. Nothing is easy for me about the job search even though it might seem I've got it made in that regard.

Lunch with my future stepdad may sound like a no-stress situation except it isn't because I hardly know Tom, not when you get right down to it. We've known each other peripherally for two years or so, same with me and Tim, but I've never actually spent any time with the twins alone. Every single time I've ever been with the guys, mom and Tris have been there, and usually Chubby as well. The twins and I are like casual acquaintances. Sure, they've both always been wicked nice to me but then Tom is marrying my mom so it figures he'd be nice to her son. Bottom line... I like the guys, but we hardly know each other.

As with Dickers & Son, I'm NOT worried about getting offered a job because I know I will. I hate asking for something and I'm nervous I'll embarrass myself by seeming unworthy, or unqualified, or dorky, or come off as stupid to the twins who are super smart. I want them to have a good opinion of me so they'll tell my mom how awesome her son is. Well, maybe not awesome but I want to impress the Twins enough that they have something good to say about me that will make my mom feel good. That's the stress factor! BUT, we're right back to their impression of me largely based on Tim's and Tom's subjective opinion from a one-time lunch interview.

Bottom line: my nervousness in both interview situations is mostly because I don't want to disappoint the people who matter to me. I'm concerned that strangers, which the HR person and the twins basically are, will subjectively write-up an evaluation of me that Mr. Dickers in the first case, and my mom today, may consider a valid and comprehensive evaluation when it's nothing more than subjective opinions from a relatively brief encounter. Of course, if their subjective opinion is that I'm awesome, then I hope everyone takes that as fact, not opinion. Haha, yeah, and then all my bitching about the subjective nature of the interview process goes out the window.

The easiest thing for me to do, obviously, is to simply accept whatever Mr. Dickers' company offers me as I'll almost surely end up doing that anyway. But see, I don't want to disrespect Tom and Tim either. I can't just blow off their offer of a possible position with their company. They've vaguely mentioned there's a job for me with their company two or three different times, and even offered to pay my way for a Master's Degree. Chubby took their offer so he'll be working for them eventually which would normally be a strong incentive for me to work there too, except Chub sort of recommended I don't work there. He thinks Dickers & Son is where I should work and I'm not sure why he thinks that, but then he also said I'd do great in any job. I know he only said that because he loves me.

Anyway, as usual, I've talked myself in circles about these concerns so when I walk into the kitchen, Robby asks, "You alright, babe? You're mumbling to yourself." He's making a mug of coffee as I'm like, "Really? I didn't know I was mumbling out loud." He asks, "So, you're okay?" Shrugging, I tell him, "Not really. I'm a little stressed about meeting the Rider twins for my lunch interview." Shoveling lots of sugar into his coffee, he says, "No need for stress, babe. Enjoy the lunch, have a cocktail or two, and then tell them thanks a lot but you've decided to work for my dad's company."

Frowning, I'm like, "That's actually not helping me feel less stressed, Rob." He shrugs, "Well, then tell me how I can help?" I say, "I don't know. I don't want to diss the twins 'cause they're good guys so I'll listen to them and act interested but, Christ, I don't even know what their company does. I'm probably wasting their time. Mostly, I'm kinda hoping I give them some reason to tell my mom she doesn't have a dunce for a son! That's basically why I'm nervous. I want them to have something nice to tell my mom and I don't know how to pull that off."

Swallowing some coffee, Rob's like, "What specifically is your hang-up about making a good impression?" Shrugging, I say, "Well, specifically, I don't know what to say to them, or even what to ask them. I should have questions, right?" He pats my shoulder, mumbling, "You're no dunce, Dylan. You'll impress the shit outta them, but try not to impress them too much." That was no help either.

I mumble, "Thanks. I don't think you need to worry about me impressing them too much. I'll settle for them not laughing in my face at whatever I say. That's if I can even think of something to say." I put strips of bacon in a frying pan and get the fire going under the pan as Rob puts bread in the toaster but doesn't push it down yet, saying, "Do you want me to go with you?" I'm like, "You have a baseball game this afternoon." He shrugs, "I'd blow off that game for you in a second!" I nod, "Yeah? Thanks boyfriend, but I need to do this myself."

Rob turns the radio on to a music station as I'm thinking... what the hell should I say when I first get to the restaurant? I mean, I'm the one being accommodated, I'm the one needing something so they'll expect me to start things off. Damn, I need an opening comment or at least a question. Should I first confirm the reason for asking them to get off a plane and drive to Ken's Steak House, confirm to them I'm looking for a job after graduation?

Well, no, it's fucking obvious! Hmm, I shouldn't assume that though. I should make that clear because Tom might think maybe I want to tell him I don't want him marrying my mom. Haha, if he thinks that, he knows me even less than I think he does. I'd never have the balls to tell him that but wait! I could say that for a joke to break the ice. No... I couldn't!

When the bacon is ready I crack some eggs into another frying pan that I've melted a tablespoon of butter. Robby sees me do that and pushes down the toast and then pats my shoulder, saying, "You'll do great, babe." The eggs are fried and breakfast is ready but Rob's on the phone talking to Mouse. Christ, he doesn't need to leave for the ballpark until eleven o'clock... why's he talking to him now? As I'm putting the eggs and bacon on plates, I'm thinking, 'when do I need to leave?' I should have figured this out already. Let's see, it's ten o'clock now. Hmm, it'll take an hour to get to Ken's Steak House, assuming there are no traffic problems So, to be safe I should leave before eleven. Omigod, I'm late!

I wave at Rob and he says to Mouse, "Just a sec," and then he asks me, "What, babe?" I say, "There's your breakfast but I need to take a shower right now. I didn't realize how late it is." He says into his phone, "I'll call you back." Putting his phone away, he goes, "Sit the fuck down and take five minutes to eat your breakfast. C' mon, babe, five minutes is all it'll take." Nodding, I mumble, "Yeah, you're right. I should have something in my stomach, something to throw up later if I get any more nervous." Robby chuckles as I sit down, and then I eat really fast.

After my shower, I shave my scraggily sparse beard 'cause I haven't shaved since Monday morning. As I'm brushing my teeth I think, holy shit, my face looks so shiny fresh without the hairs on my chin and upper lip. Fuck though, I look wicked young now! I can just imagine the twins talking after our lunch about where the fuck can we hide Dylan in the company?

What to wear? Well, obviously, I want to wear semi-dressed-up clothes. I go with my old standby of newish clean and pressed tan khakis with a nice leather belt Willie bought me years ago that I hardly ever wear, then a button-down white dress shirt, but no tie 'cause that's overdoing it. And loafers on my feet... and what else? I stare at myself in the mirror thinking... 'Holy shit! What did the HR lady and the two VP's I interviewed with at Dickers & Son think about my earrings?' Jesus, I never thought about that and Rob didn't say anything. Hmm, have I ever seen a single male manager at Dickers & Son wearing earrings? That'd be a big fat ...NO! Well, it's too late to worry about that now.

The twins won't care about my earrings, but damn, my bangs are droopy. I get some hair gel and rub it in my hair and then comb my bangs over to the side thinking Danny was right that my bangs would look better cut shorter. That's the way he thinks my haircut looks best. I should listen to him more often! Fuck it... I gotta get a move on!

When I come out of the bedroom Rob's still in his bathrobe sitting at the kitchen bar, texting. I'm like, "Okay, I'm off, Robby. Wish me luck." He goes, "Luck and love, babe. I'll see ya after the ballgame." As I'm opening the door, he goes, "Let's do something tonight!" I'm like, "Hit a home run for me." He goes, 'You got it!" and now I'm walking down the hall trying to think if have everything I need.

After driving for ten minutes I calm down a little because the traffic is light, and why wouldn't it be on a Saturday? Yeah, but I'm driving the Kia so I gotta pay attention. I don't drive this car that often and it's a lot different than the pickup I'm used to. I'm also running over ideas in my head for what I'll say as soon as I see the guys. I've come up with something inane to say if I should see them in the parking lot. Now I think up something different if I see them inside 'cause they got there first, and then lastly something if I see them inside because I'm there first. Obviously, it'd be better if the little casual things I've thought of to say weren't inane, but inane is the best I can come up with, and inane is better than nothing. I should have been thinking about this much earlier.

I practice saying the inane remarks out loud as I'm driving. Practicing because I want to avoid blurting out something incredibly stupid like I did with that HR lady. And, by inane, I mean boringly unoriginal which is only slightly better than sounding stupid. Hell, but lots of people say inane things all the time. I've also decided to turn down any offers of a cocktail before lunch. That's a definite! I'm not going to hem and haw about it... I'll simply say, 'No, thank you!' I'm considering if I should add, 'but you guys go ahead'. No, I won't say that because it's presumptuous of me to think they need my okay to have a fucking drink.

The traffic on Route 128 and Route 9 is fairly light all the way to Ken's Restaurant and I arrive at a quarter of twelve. Good, I wanted to get here before the guys. Inside the restaurant, I sit at a table near the back of the bar section feeling conspicuous because there's hardly anyone in here... and I'm not drinking anything anyway. Trying to ignore that, I go over in my head how to react and what to say when Tom and Tim walk in. I'm going to act casual, saying... 'thanks for meeting me here. How was your flight?' Sure, that's inane, but it's basically what anyone would say, right? The trick is to be cool and not smile too hard, act like this is nothing out of the ordinary for me. Why would I want to project that though? This is completely out of the ordinary for me. Oh, fuck this...

I watch two couples walking in the front door. The older man in the group gawks at me way too long as they pass by on their way to the reception desk. Well, it's not actually a 'desk'. It's sort of a chest-high piece of furniture, a podium. The woman behind the podium gets menus, smiles hard, and then leads the people away. Goddammit, now I'm even more uncomfortable sitting in here wondering why'd that old fuck gawk at me so long? Well, I'm gonna take advantage of the lady receptionist being away from the front to casually walk over and look in both dining rooms. No harm in being doubly sure Tom and Tim didn't get here even earlier than I got here.

Hmm, I get a funny 'look' in the second restaurant room from one of the three ladies at a table by the window drinking cocktails. There are menus on their table but most of the tables are empty. Maybe Ken's doesn't get a big lunch crowd, which will suck because I hate eating in almost empty restaurants. Everything we say during lunch will be heard by... and just like that, a light bulb goes off in my head... BLINK... and I hear Tom saying 'We'll see you at one o'clock at Ken's'. NOT twelve o'clock. FUCK! I am such an idiot! Why'd I think it was twelve o'clock?

Well, if I'm going to be an idiot, it's much better being an 'early' idiot than a late one. Realizing I'm just standing here and all three women at that table are now looking at me, I turn around and quickly walk straight for the front door and then go outside. And then, shit, I almost bump into four people walking up to the front door. Avoiding them I stop in my tracks, almost getting run over by an SUV coming into the parking lot from Route 9. The driver yells something at me I can't hear because his window's closed. I yell, "Fuck you!" but he couldn't hear me either.

Walking purposely to my car, ya know, as if I've finished lunch already. Well, who the fuck would eat lunch at eleven o'clock? Nobody is going to think that! Oh man, I hate this!

It's not going well so far. At the Kia, I curse silently at myself for rushing to get here an hour early. Shaking my head and then looking around I realize it's a nice day. Nice weather, sunny and almost warm so I walk around the parking lot smoking a cigarette watching the cars zoom by on Route 9. Obviously, I'm pissed at myself for making this dumb-ass mistake but more importantly, I'm considering this a wake-up call of sorts. A wake-up call that I've got to pay better attention to details. I'm too used to relying on Robby paying attention to time and dates and when things are due, and where we should be and what time we should be there. This is kind of an important meeting, but I couldn't even get the time right. Okay, I make a mental note that I'm gonna concentrate on being more accountable time-wise.

When I've smoked the cigarette, I get in the Kia and listen to the radio while closely watching the cars pulling in. If I see Tom and Tim pull in, I'll get out as if we arrived at the same time. But, man, time passes slowly when you want it to go fast. Sighing, I finally get antsy sitting here and get out of the car and go back inside the restaurant. Christ, I'm sweating now too. Huh, the place is a lot more crowded and a lot noisier. Well, duh, the restaurant is crowded and noisy now because it's a quarter to one! People aren't eating lunch at a quarter to twelve!

I find the restrooms and wash my hands and face and then comb my hair again. Satisfied that I look okay, I go to the reception desk because when I walked past it earlier I noticed there was a bowl of individually wrapped complimentary peppermint candies. Freshen my cigarette breath, ya know? The receptionist is there talking on the telephone and as I pick out one candy, smiling at her. She smiles back at me. Okay, that went pretty well.

Whew, I'm feeling better and the bar section is hopping now so I stand here pretending I'm waiting for someone. Well, I am waiting for someone. No need to pretend, and two minutes later Tim and Tom walk through the front door. Huh, they're not wearing suits and ties. They're both wearing jeans, polo pullover shirts, and sneakers. I've over-dressed again.

They don't see me but I'm looking at them closer than I ever have before and, wow, their faces are so identical! Um, I mean even for identical twins they're more identical then... and why am I wasting time thinking about this? Luckily Tom has a scar through his right eyebrow from a childhood accident, and thank God for that or I'd probably get his name wrong because he just spotted me and is striding up to me, saying, "Hey, Dylan, good to see you, buddy! You're looking fabulous as always." I go, "Hi, Tom, um..." and forget the inane thing I practiced saying.

Trying desperately to remember what it was, I'm holding out my hand. Tom shakes it briefly before giving me a big bear hug. Tim is right behind him and he doesn't even bother with the handshake, just the hug. These guys are an inch taller than me and broader with bigger arms, bigger hands... they're just bigger than me, although they're not fat at all. They have man-bodies. Danny's right that I still have more of a skinny boy's body. Compared to them I do, but not compared to others like Hayden or Carl, for example. They have smaller bodies than mine. People are different sizes, that's all.

The twins are nice looking without being especially handsome. Just nice looking without big noses or ass-chins or anything like that. Regular haircuts, regular everything except their brains. Yeah, they're very smart, very intelligent although they don't flaunt it.

Tom looks around at all the people and says, "Christ, I'm glad I called for reservations. Everybody in Framingham must do lunch here at Ken's on Saturday. Let me check to see if our table's ready," and he walks toward the reception desk with Tim and me walking behind him. Tim energetically says, "Damn, I like your haircut, Dylan! Ya know, even as a kid I wanted a short haircut like yours, but Tom and I have these fucked-up widow's peaks, ya know? Your haircut wouldn't work for us." I go, "Oh, um..." and Tom motions to us that we should follow him as he's following the receptionist, or whatever she's called. Tim goes, "Oh, good, the table's ready! I need a drink. That friggin' shuttle from New York was a cattle car this morning."

As we get seated I'm trying to remember something, anything I planned to say, but Tom doesn't give me a chance. He goes, "I'm glad we're doing this job thing now, buddy. FIRST, though..." and I look at him as he goes, "Tim and I have a crazy question for you." I nod my head, still sucking on the peppermint candy. He continues, "We know this is wildly nuts and sudden, and all that, but as soon as possible, like the week after you and Jeffrey graduate Timmy and I wanna marry your moms in Las Vegas. Whaddaya think about that?" I go, "Huh?" and both twins raise their eyebrows in an expression that implies they're waiting for me to say something. Or, are they kidding? They're big jokesters, always laughing at something. They like to have fun, ya know?

Moving the peppermint candy from one side of my mouth to the other, I go, "Ah, seriously?" Tom goes, "Yep, seriously," and I go, "In that case, hell yeah! I think that would be awesome, but why are you, um, asking me about it?" They both laugh out loud, and then Tim goes, "Why? Because you'll be there obviously! You and Rob and Jeff, and whoever Jeffrey wants to bring with him. Ya know, so everyone has, um, a drinking buddy. We're thinking we'll rent a couple of suites or, we're not sure yet. We just decided to do this on the shuttle from New York."

Tom goes, "Yeah, we'll work the details out with our travel guy at the office. Then, we figure, ya know, after the wedding, we'll hang around that day losing money gambling and then take our brides to Hawaii for our honeymoon. That's where they've hinted they'd like to go. You guys can stay longer in Vegas, or whatever ya wanna do except you're not invited on the honeymoon... heh heh."

Taking over again, Tim says, "We first wanna get the okay from you and your brother before asking your moms because if you guys don't wanna go, um, we'll need to come up with something else." I'm like, "Oh? How about your parents and sister?" They both laugh out loud again, and then Tom says, 'Yes, of course! Others will be invited too but it all hinges on you and Jeff, and then your moms. The rest of the guests will follow, ya know, however it works out for them. We're mostly concerned with the six of us. Your and Jeff's moms, us two grooms, heh heh, and you two guys." I go, "Well, jeez, thanks."

Holy shit. This is wonderful news and I know my mom will be excited and happy, but it is wicked unexpected and now I'm back trying to recall some inane small talk regarding a job. Not coming up with anything, I stick with the wedding plans. Taking a deep breath, I say, "Yes, that's officially my answer to the wedding. You can put Chubby down for a 'yes' too." They both laugh again as Tom's patting my shoulder. These guys laugh a lot, but I already knew that. Tom goes, "You better ask Rob, don't ya think?" I nod my head as if I agree, but contradict my head nod, saying, "No, just put him down as a 'yes' too. Viva Las Vegas!" Chuckling, Tom pats my arm, mumbling, "That's awesome, Dylan."

There's been a middle-aged woman standing across the table from me, sort of out of the twin's vision. After maybe twenty seconds she clears her throat and Tim turns his head a little, sees her and grins, saying, "Don't sneak up on me like that, okay?" She grins too, saying, "I didn't want to interrupt your, ah, son's 'okaying' the trip to Vegas. You can put me down as a 'yes' too while you're at it." They laugh again.

I noticed she hesitated before deciding to take a chance that I was one of their sons, vacillating between that and maybe I was their brother. That would have been a much better guess actually as they're only eleven years older than me. On the other hand, I can see where someone might think the age difference was more than that.

The waitress says, "Anyhow, guys, I'm June, and I'll be your server today." Then moving the pen she's holding back and forth between Tim and Tom, she says, "I've gotta tell you, guys, and I hope you don't mind me saying this, but I've never seen more identical twins than you two." Tim says, "Are you serious? We're triplets, not twins!" and he puts his arm across my shoulders pulling me to him, asking, "Didn't you notice?" She goes, "Now that you mention it, no... haha." The guys laugh again as I force out a chuckle. That was awkward.

She asks, "Can I get you gentleman something to drink?" Tom says, "Three Grey Goose martinis straight up with glasses of water on the side." June says, "I'm gonna need to see the cute triplet's ID. Sorry." Tim's like, "Which one of us are you referring to?" Jesus, are these guys like this all the time?

Fuck, I wasn't going to have anything to drink and he orders the worst drink on the planet! I don't know what to do to un-complicate matters as they're already a little out of hand so I do the easiest thing and get my license out. June looks at it, frowns and then goes, "Sorry, hon, no offense but wow, you're the youngest looking twenty-two-year-old I've ever seen in my life. Good for you, Dylan Newman." Tom says, "Very good, you pronounced his name correctly," as if I have a difficult name to pronounce. June laughs as she hands the license back to me, saying, 'Thanks, hon."

Sometimes a bartender will think I have a fake license and try to trick me, asking me real fast, 'What's your birthday?' Idiots! As I take my license back, I'm like, "That's the second 'first-time-in-your-life' experience you've had at this one table in the last three minutes." The twins laugh again, and she goes, "My lucky day, huh?" Oh good, I got the twins to laughs... that's not a difficult thing to do, but...

June smiles and cheerfully tells us, "Okay, fellows, three straight up vodka martinis coming up." Tim says, "Grey Goose, please... and the waters." She winks at him, muttering, "Gotcha!" and walks off in the direction of the service bar. I'm wondering... how the hell am I going to drink a vodka martini?

Tim claps his hands and says, "Great! We've got the marriage plans moving along, there comes a time when ya just gotta flick a switch, stop talking about it, and set a date." Tom goes, "Right, bro," and Tim looks at me, saying, "So, you're sure you don't wanna call Rob about Vegas?" I ask, "How was your flight?" Yeah, that's one of the inane questions I'd come up with. I just thought of it now although, unfortunately, I blurted it out as Tim was asking his question about Rob, so I immediately blurt out, "No, that's not necessary," but as I was saying that Tim was answering my inane question, saying, "As I mentioned, buddy, the shuttle was an 'effing cattle car," and we both were talking at the same time. Another awkward moment!

Ignoring that, Tom says, "So, you're pretty sure Rob will be okay with joining us in Vegas?" I nod, "Oh, yeah, Rob's not gonna have any problem with that." The twins exchange subtle 'looks' as though they're not so sure, so I add, "But if you want me to, I'll call Rob right now, I don't mind...." Tom goes, "No, I guess not, but if you could text us after you get home and have a chance to talk with him. Just to be safe, ya know?" I nod, "Yes, I can do that. Um, what's your number?" and they both give me their cell phone number, saying, "Your mom gave these phone numbers to you and Jeff in case of emergency, or whatever..." Oh, that's right, she did. I punch their numbers in my phone again anyway and pretend I didn't hear that.

That done, Tim goes, "This is awesome progress! We'll talk with Jeffrey after lunch." I go, "Oh, you're gonna call Chub?" He goes, "Tom tried calling him on our way here from the airport but his phone isn't turned on." I go, "Huh, that's odd," and he goes, "Could you ask him to call us?" I say, "Of course, but you can be sure Chubby will be all in on this! He'll probably bring his friend, John Beverly... if that's alright." Hmm, here's a thought. Am I wrong assuming the twins are paying for all of us? If they're not, hmm... what will a trip to Las Vegas cost?

Our waitress is back carrying a tray with three straight-up vodka martinis on it. She says, "Maybe Chubby could bring me instead." The twins laugh at that. Wow, she's got quite a set of ears on her hearing our conversation from three tables away. When she has successfully put the too-full martinis on the table, she says, "I see you boys haven't opened the menus yet so I'll give you a few more minutes. Enjoy!" She walks away and Tom lifts his glass, saying, "To Las Vegas!" We tap glasses as I'm concentrating like mad on not spilling any, and then I take a sip and... OMIGOD! Okay, it was just a sip but that motherfucker of a cocktail is strong and horrible! It tastes the way rubbing alcohol smells, and that's an insult to rubbing alcohol.

Putting his glass down, Tom says, "If it's okay with you, Dylan, we'll decide on what we want to order for lunch before we get into a few details about our company, okay buddy?" I nod, mumbling, "Yeah, sure." I never think to say 'yes, sir' to these guys because they seem more my age than, um, real adult-adults. And, as this meeting is turning out, I don't need to think up inane things to say 'cause it's almost impossible to get a word in with these two anyhow, and that's just about perfect.

Our waitress, June, comes over with a little pad in her hand, asking, "Ready to order?" Tom goes, "Ya forgot our water, but yeah, we'll order now." He said that casually confident but with implied criticism. I could never pull that off and it showed me a side of Tom I haven't seen before. He might not be just a happy-go-lucky guy and I guess he's not now that I think about it. He and Tim own and run a very successful business.

June says, "Sorry about the water... that damn, busboy is..." and Tom interrupts her excuses, saying, "I'll have the scallop and bacon appetizer and then the, um, Ken's Junior Sirloin, medium rare with mashed potatoes and regular dressing on the salad." Tim goes, "Ditto for me," and June looks at me. I say, "The lobster bisque?" but I said that as a question as though I'm asking if it's alright. Goddammit, I hate when I do that! Then, more forcefully, I add, "And what they're having for my entree." She's delighted with our choices and goes off to get things rolling.

Before Tom can tell me anything about his company, a busboy comes over and fills water glasses for us. When the rather goofy-looking busboy is done doing that Tom pats my shoulder and says, "Here we go with a brief history and outline of our company. By the way, to start with, we're not actually a corporation as I've heard you mentioned a few times. It's Riders Group LLC. The LLC stands for Limited Liability Corporation so we're sort of a corporation, but not in the normal sense. We don't have stockholder annual meetings, for example, and there are other differences. Anyway, a couple of years ago we changed the name from The Tully Group to our current name, Rider Group LLC. Basically we, um, inherited this established company."

Tim says, "Yep, the man who hired us right out of business school was an older man named Richard Tully. He interviewed the top twenty-or-so students from the postgraduate school he'd graduated from, which is The Sloan School of Management at MIT, and it's where we got our MBA degrees as well. Richard's partner had passed away the previous year and we were the two from the twenty-or-so graduates he interviewed he finally hired to replace the responsibilities his partner handled. Richard taught us the M & A business the way he'd been working it with his partner for over thirty years."

The guys take another slug off their drinks, and then Tim goes on, "We worked for him two full years before we were actually earning our keep, so to speak. During that time Richard came to consider us like the sons he never had, right Tom?" Tom goes, "Yes, he was a wonderful man. To finish up with the story of how two brothers from the Midwest ended up owning a company like this one, we worked like madmen and eventually were earning, with bonuses, more than Richard so he decided it'd be more profitable for him if he made us partners. As part of our contract, there was a partnership agreement that outlined various scenarios, one of which stated half the value of the company would go to his wife when Richard dies, or in the event of her earlier demise, to Tim and me. Two years ago they died together in his private jet with Richard flying it. He was sixty-four when it happened."

Taking over again, Tim says, "So, Tom and I became owners of an extremely well-funded M & A operation with nineteen employees. During the years prior to us joining his firm, Richard and his partner accumulated many international licenses to do business within different countries, mostly but not exclusively, in Europe, so we sometimes travel there and, for that matter, travel almost anywhere in the world we see an opportunity."

It'd be nice to know what M & A stands for. I still don't know what kind of business they're in. Maybe they'll say what it means without me asking. It's Tom's turn and he says, "Well, the past two years Timmy and I have done some things with the business we feel Richard would be proud of. Um, but just so you know, back at the time of Richard's death we agonized about this fortune that fell into our laps. The Tullys had no children and, as far as we know, no relatives. After a month of thinking along those lines, we finally rationalized that this is what Richard set up for us, and it's what he wanted, so we decided to carry on and make the most of this gift. We'd like to eventually pass it forward to you and your brother. You know, after you guys have been a part of it for however many years when we retire at age forty-five, or something like that."

Tim goes, "Or age forty," they chuckle again and pick up their martinis so I take a chance on another small sip of mine. Actually, I've been thinking when a good time would be for me to accidentally on purpose knock this fucking straight-up vodka martini glass over. Tim adds, "It's not just mergers and acquisitions though, Dylan. That's the biggest part, but the company also is into land speculation which, as you probably already know is primarily a finance activity purchasing real estate that after careful analysis and occasionally some, um, insider information, we can predict fairly accurately how much the value of the real estate will increase in say two years when we can turn it over for a hefty profit."

The twins take another hit off their martinis while I guzzle down some water to get that last sip of vodka out of my mouth, and then Tom says, "You may be thinking M & A isn't, ah, the most well-respected business in the world." Actually, I haven't a clue what he's talking about. Tom goes, "M & A got a bad rap because of that fucking movie with Michael Douglas... Wallstreet." I never heard of that either. They both drink some more vodka and Tom goes, "And, being truthful about it, M & A business deals can be a cut-throat and nasty endeavor. Not always though and not often, but not every deal is a winner for both sides. We try to avoid causing painful fallout for previous owners, stockholders, and employees of companies we acquire, but we don't like getting pushed around either, so we need to get tough occasionally..."

Another swallow of vodka and he says, "So, yeah, people sometimes lose their jobs and in extreme cases their pensions as well, but it's not our fault. It's the fault of the incompetent management group that was running that company, which is what brought the company to our attention in the first place. With the right management and a good business model most companies, and almost always with consolidations, can be saved in some form or another. However, it often becomes blatantly obvious there are many unnecessary jobs, redundancy in many areas of the antiquated ways some companies are still doing business, and that's why people lose their jobs."

More martini gets swallowed and again I drink water and then Tim picks up their story, saying, "We need to do a lot of analysis prior to moving in on a struggling operation which is what Jeff will be working with, and therefore the need for his Master's Degrees in management and various forms of accounting. Anyway, as was mentioned, we have sources developed over the years, mostly by Richard and his partner, that provide what some might consider insider information, but that's a matter of interpretation. More likely it's analytical factors we've determined strongly indicating excess capacity from industry and other similar concepts you've probably studied at college." No, I haven't.

He goes on, "We're constantly searching, using various means you will learn about, looking for companies in which we see the so-called bullwhip effect, which as you may recall from your college studies is a supply chain phenomenon regarding small fluctuations in demand at the retail level that incompetence at management levels does not recognize, and then we take the opportunity presented by that lack of in-house management expertise to buy out or consolidate the drowning company or companies. Yes, companies with OEE are what we're looking for all the time. In other words, the company's showing overall equipment effectiveness expressed in output causing progressively larger fluctuations in demand at the wholesale, distributor, manufacturer, and raw material levels. Inadequate management or sheer incompetence gets companies in trouble so we offer them a buy-out price or we'll buy a majority of their stock, whether they like it or not, or... well, you'll learn all this."

Tom finishes his martini and says, "This may sound complicated, Dylan, but you'll be given plenty of training starting with something simple like OEE which, as I mentioned a minute ago is a great indicator if a manufacturing process is truly productive, and so forth." My head is spinning. They might as well have been speaking a foreign language. Well, they were actually.

Smiling, Tom points at my martini and says, "Hey, buddy, let me guess... you're not a fan of vodka martinis." I blush, mumbling, "Um, I guess not. I'm sorry." He goes, "No, it's totally my fault for not asking what you wanted," and he waves at a passing busboy, the same one who brought our water and tells him, "June is our waitress. Please tell her we need two more martinis and a bottle of," and he looks at me, asking, 'What kind of beer do you like?" I sputter out, "Bud," which is the first beer I thought of, maybe because he's calling me 'buddy'.

The goofy-looking busboy gives Tom a dumb 'look', then rubs his nose with his index finger. I'm thinking he's getting ready to tell Tom to go fuck himself. Ya know... 'hey, that's not my job, dude!' Instead, he saunters off to maybe do that, or maybe not. Most busboys as old as that one, and I'm guessing he's in his mid-twenties, are not on an upward career path. And, I don't want the beer anyway. Tom's saying something, so I look at him and he goes, "Sorry about that, Dylan. I'm so used to ordering Grey Goose for Timmy and me, I just... well, my bad."

I go, "No! No problem," and hold up my martini, like... do you want this? Tim says, "Great idea," and takes the glass from my fingers and pours half into Tom's glass and then swallows the rest of the drink and eats the olive. Tom asks, "So, what questions do you have, Dylan? I realize we gave you a very brief outline of what we do, but ask away." I didn't understand hardly anything he said during his so-called brief outline, so I don't know what to ask.

Hmm, I gotta ask something though, and maybe because of my part-time job last summer, I ask this, "How are the company's benefits?" Tom spits out some martini, laughing his ass off. Tim's laughing too as my face approaches the temperature to ignite fire. What a stupid ass question! After all that complicated esoteric information they've been telling me, I ask about health insurance benefits. Tim's squeezing my shoulder and he's really laughing, and then finally saying, "That was priceless, Dylan?" They are legitimately laughing their nuts off, so I sort of grin and shrug as if I'm in on the joke.

And here comes June with our appetizers... and thank God for that. The guys are still snickering and wiping their eyes as Tom takes a deep breath and then says, "Omigod, that was a great non-sequitur, Dylan. You caught us off guard with that shit. Jesus, that was a good one, buddy!" Yeah, okay, they thought I was joking asking a mundane question like that... a question that someone applying for a minimum wage stock room job at Stop & Shop might ask.

Tim goes, "BUT, for the record, we do have an excellent health care plan! And dental, and life insurance, and a Vanguard retirement plan, and four weeks vacation plus another twelve days paid holidays, and sick leave and anything else you can think of. We've got benefits coming out of the wazoo, Dylan." Trying to save face, I go, "Jeez, I expected that. I was kidding!"

Our appetizers are served without our waitress joining in on our conversation this time. Tim goes, "Did the busboy happen to..." She goes, "Yes, gentlemen, your drink order will be coming out momentarily, and then she does intrude on our conversation, adding, "Gee, I wish I could have heard the joke the cute triplet told a minute ago." Tom mutters, "No you don't! He's our potty-mouth triplet. Your ears would be burning." She grins and says, "Enjoy," and walks off.

We're silent for two minutes as we eat some of our appetizers and then Tim says, "These are good, very good, huh Tom?" Tom finishes his third and last bacon-wrapped scallop, and goes, "Yep, dude, very good... I'm hungry too. That was a tasty start." Then, as he pushes his dish to the side, he says, "So, seriously, what questions do you have, Dylan?" Taking a deep breath, I put my soup spoon down and look at Tom, saying, "To be honest, Tom, I didn't understand most of what you explained, so it's hard to know what to ask other than how I would fit into the process?"

He says, "It's completely understandable you wouldn't grasp most of what we told you, but here's what we have in mind for you. First, you should take a month or two off this summer to unwind from eighteen years of formal education. Enjoy yourself for a couple of months." That sounds like a good start, haha.

Tom says, "But after that, we'd like you to start on a similar program that, years ago, Richard started Timmy and me on. It's an eighteen-month training program during which you'll get an idea of what we all do and how we go about doing it on a daily basis. You won't understand everything, but we don't expect you to. You don't have an MBA degree and you don't need to have one for the new position we have in mind. You'll be technically savvy though and know the jargon and buzzwords and how they apply and, um, let me put it this way... you'll know more about updated statistical data analysis methods than 60% of the in-house managers running companies today. And, well, this part is Tim's brainstorm so, Tim, you explain our vision for Dylan's position in the company."

Tim nods but doesn't start talking because our second round of drinks are being delivered by the waitress, who says, "It'll be about ten minutes before your entrees are out, fellows." She takes the appetizer dishes, Tom swallows some of his new drink, wipes his mouth with a napkin, and says, "Well, Dylan, we see you as an, um, a front man for lack of a better term. We'll think of a management title for you later. You'll represent the company before anyone else from our company steps through the front door. With your innocent youthful face and sincere personality, plus the knowledge we'll give you, we think you'll be able to charm and disarm initial resistance. Resistance to change in the form of unthought-of options the company's present management could never think of. Almost all companies have a strong resistance to change which is why we get stopped at an early-stage before we can even present initial proposals to decision-makers."

I must look as skeptical as I feel because Tom interjects, "You wouldn't present any of the proposals, but rather act as our PR guy, our initial personable public relations representative. Create a positive friendly and helpful image for Rider Group LLC. We'd already have set the stage for why you're there offering the owner and his staff free business consulting advice and we'll have a reason for doing it free, such as we're opening a new office in that country or whatever gets our foot in the door." I say, "You're saying that we'll pretend to offer free business consulting but actually, the MBA advice will be to consolidate or sell to your company, right?" He goes, "Um, yes, but it isn't as ominous as you make it sound."

He's being nice, smiling at me, not acting pissed off as he reiterates, "You'll be the first actual representative from Rider Group LLC and you'll be fully briefed and you assure the company's representative you have their interest at heart. We wouldn't expect you to wing it on your own, you'll know what to say. You can also wine and dine them generously before they're even hearing our suggestions and maybe you'll learn some info we're missing."

They want me to be like a con artist, basically. I say, "Eighteen months of training, you say?" Tom goes, "Yes, but not because we don't think you're bright. It's more that we'll want you to feel super confident that you know what you need to know, know what you're talking about and we'll have tons of practical application before you'd ever step foot in a company's front door."

I've been forcing down my beer while not acting enthused about this because, well, I don't wanna do it. Tim says, "I know it doesn't sound like something you feel comfortable with now, Dylan, but that's because you don't have the knowledge yet." I shrug, "But, why me?" Tim says, "Well. this is kind of funny but we've been interviewing young men who appear, um, well, um, actually, Tom and I have been telling each other we're looking for a Dylan Newman type young man for this new position. Haha, seriously that's true. I finally told Tom... hey, what are we doing? Why not the original Dylan Newman." Tom goes, "Um, but that doesn't answer your question of why you, does it? Ah, let me put it to you this way... you have a certain je ne sais quoi, Dylan, that makes you very likable and, oh I can't describe it, but it's golden and we want that to be how prospective decision-makers see our company.

Huh! Dropping some French bullshit on me now, eh? I'm frowning, unsure of exactly what it means. We all drink a little of our drinks and then Tim says, "Trust me, you're perfect for this position and you'll know your stuff and you'll be able to massage the resistance that most CEO's and company owners initially have toward our, um, ideas. Tom and I often scare them off because we appear too aggressive for some of the decision-makers in these shaky companies, so you'll be our buffer."

Tim adds, "Listen to this, Dylan, the past few weeks, Tom and I plus two of our MBA guys reviewed over forty missed opportunities during the past five years, three of those years with Richard leading us, and we think with a PR manager like you establishing trust within the decision-making group, we could have closed probably fifteen of those missed opportunities. That equates to between fifty and a hundred million dollars of missed profit. The three of us, Richard, Tom, and I were perceived as a dominating presence, too intimidating. We scared off the low-level first contact person we met. If the first company contact feels intimidated they give a negative report to whoever actually makes decisions so they won't look stupid and, consequently, we never got to talk with the guy who built or is running the company." I go, "Jeez." Thankfully, the waitress is here with our entrees now 'cause my head is spinning.

We're silent as June passes out the dishes, and then she says what she always says, "Enjoy,", and off she goes. Ya know what I'm thinking? I'm thinking Tim described a similar scenario to interviewing for a job. In the forty cases he mentioned, they couldn't get by the first four-minute interaction with the company's front line representative, who kinda equates to the HR person. As a gross simplification maybe most of life, all personal interactions of every imaginable kind, are actually a billion job interviews every day by everyone.

Tom and Tim both see serious hesitation in my eyes, or my body language, or whatever, so Tim goes, "Let's eat and I then we'll have another idea for you to consider, Dylan. And, ya know, while we're eating feel free to throw out any question or reservation you're having about anything we've talked about. And, seriously, you're probably feeling exactly the way Tom and I felt when we first talked to Richard about the job he was proposing. We were as confused as you may be, but we gave it a chance because the rewards were so enticing."

Oooh! I'm very disappointed in Tim 'cause that was a lie. He and Tom graduated from business school so they knew generally everything that guy Richard was telling them. Their interview with him was nothing like this one where I legitimately know absolutely nothing about the M & A business! Or that movie he mentioned, although I do know the name, Michael Douglas. He's that wicked old movie actor.

While we eat, the guys talk about wedding plans, about surprising my mom and Tris with their Las Vegas wedding idea and speculating what the ladies will say. They've been engaged for almost a year and all four of them have talked about having a non-traditional joint wedding so this won't be as outlandish an idea to mom and Tris as it probably would likely be to most engaged women. The guys ask me what I think the moms will say and I tell them my mom and Tris will be excited, they'll be thrilled. And they will be too because they're both fun-loving and wonderful women who love and trust these two guys.

And, ya know, aside from their M & A business, I think Tom and Tim are wonderful guys too. I'm not sure I'd want to see them walking into a struggling business I owned, or maybe I would because I basically don't know enough about it to make a definitive decision about the pros and cons of the M & A business. I don't want to fall into the trap of subjectively deciding their business is undesirable without having any objective reasons for that. Maybe some people lose their jobs but then maybe these guys SAVE the jobs of everyone else. Maybe everyone would lose their jobs if Tom and Tim didn't step in. Being objective is hard 'cause you need to work at it. It's much easier being strictly subjective and then go on ignorantly about your life saying... fuck them, I'm good.

After we finish our lunches, Tim says, "Here's our other idea, Dylan. You go ahead and work for another company for five or six months, a year.... whatever. The Dickers & Son company most likely, and then maybe you decide you'd like to try a more adventurous career. One that offers the opportunity for greater compensation and one that includes first-class travel all over the world... so you try a career with us. After your training period, Jeffrey will have already graduated with a Master's Degree and you guys would basically be at the same starting point, but in different areas of responsibility. I say that although there will certainly be situations when you'd both be working on the same project. And honestly, Dylan, Tom and I sincerely feel you'd be a tremendous asset to our operation and we know you'd do a spectacular job. We also are aware it is intimidating-sounding, especially for someone who isn't naturally aggressive or pushy like yourself, which is a big part of the reason you'd be perfect,

Tom goes, "BUT! And here's the big but... whatever you decide to do now and in the future we'll always love you. That's from both our hearts. Okay?" I say, "Yes, thank you, that means a lot." And, yeah, that second choice is a MUCH better one. And what have I done all my life? I've put whatever I don't need to deal with off until I do need to deal with it. In this case months and months from now. How do I know I'm going to be happy working for Dickers & Son?

Tom adds, "That's option two, plan B, but we'd really be thrilled if you'd take option one and start with us in August or September. We don't want to bribe you but let me finish up by saying for the past two years we've offered 'signing' bonuses to the business school graduates we wanted to hire, and the same applies to you. In your case there's a twenty-five thousand dollar signing bonus and your salary for the training period will be, um, let's say sixty thousand a year with increases every six months."

Well, I've got to say something now, so I go, "Tom and Tim, I'm seriously blown away with your offer. I can't even tell you how flattered I am that you think I'd be good for your company. It's overwhelming and you're both awesomely generous and intelligent guys." Tom smiles and goes, "There's a 'but' in there somewhere." I shrug, " I left out the 'but', which is... but please let me think about everything and talk with some people. I only wish I had the confidence in myself that you have in me." They're nodding their heads but before they can say anything, I add, "The other proposal, however. The one you mentioned when we first sat down, I don't need to think about that one... count me in on the Vegas deal one hundred percent!" They both laugh again and pat my shoulders. Tom goes, "Now... if only your mom agrees."

So that's how we left it... I'll think about it. Ya know, I thought money was a big deal to me before this, but their twenty-five thousand signing bonus didn't move me very much and neither did the sixty thousand a year. I wonder why that is? Well, I guess because I don't wanna do the job as they described it, and also because Chubby advised me not to. I'll talk to Chub some more and tell Robby about it, but that's all I'm going to do. I'd actually like to tell Mr. Dickers about it and see what he thinks about M & A companies but it would be too awkward because he might think I was leveraging the twin's offer to get a higher offer from his company.

I suppose the smart thing a lot of guys would do is take the signing bonus and the higher salary during the training program and then quit, assuming they didn't want to be the disingenuous 'front-man' or con artist that the twins have in mind. But, nope, I wouldn't take their money and bail on them, not any more than Chubby would get a Master's Degree that was paid for by Tom and Tim and then work at another company.

While eating our desserts the twins are nice to me and then we have a very friendly parting with me over-thanking them both for the lunch and for their confidence in me and, of course, for offering me such a great opportunity. I'm thinking about all of that as I'm driving down Route 9 and, dammit, I miss the first exit for Route 128. Okay, I'll get off at Route 30 and connect with Route 128 near the Mass Pike exit. Hmm, yeah, that will take me right by the town of Weston where the Worthington mansion is on display. Haha, it's not really a mansion but compared to, say Rob's house, it is. I haven't been past Willie's house in two years. So why would I go by it now?

I don't know why, but for the hell of it, I pull off Route 30 just before the Mass Pike Exit and I'm immediately in the expensive town of Weston. I'm not sure if Weston or Dover is the most expensive town in Massachusetts, but I'm pretty sure it's one of them. It ain't Framingham, I can assure you of that. On a whim, I'm gonna drive by Willie's place. He'll still be at college but I'll drive by and see if I get goosebumps from the memories of my first boyfriend, and for a time my first love, puppy-love I guess. Basically childhood memories, the childhood of my gay life I mean.

It's a quiet neighborhood of immaculately maintained lawns with extravagant landscaping and long winding driveways up to large homes you can't see from the road in most cases. Coming around a bend in the road I'm above Willie's huge house and I get a quick glimpse through the trees at his backyard with the swimming pool, tennis courts, basketball court and big expanse of golf-course-type green lawns with patios and that big stone fireplace. Willie and I spent many a time in that backyard, those times were usually followed by sleepovers... experiences I'll never forget.

I only get a quick look at that huge backyard before my eyes swing back to this winding road but, in addition to all the things I glanced at, what I noticed most was all the people. There's a party of some sort going on so, Jesus, maybe Willie is home! His parents are not the type to have an afternoon barbecue party with, I don't know, maybe sixty people. Ha, or maybe the Worthington family doesn't live here now! Holy shit, that would suck...

I coast around the corner and down a slope so that now I'm on the same level as the house although I can't see it from the road. Hmm, do I dare to go up the driveway? Maybe until I can at least see the four-car garage. Just for old time sake, ya know, and for the memories of being young and not needing to think about interviewing for a job!

Yeah, I've got the balls to do this, so I slowly proceed up the winding driveway until around a bend I can see the ridiculously large garage. Omigod, I remember Willie would floor it and speed up this driveway wicked fast and then come to a screeching stop in front of the garage doors. Not today he wouldn't. The party-guests' cars are parked partially on the grass and partially on the driveway from beginning to end. And look at that beautiful expensive sports car right in front of the garage doors. Willie's, maybe?

This garage, by the way, doesn't look like any garage I've ever seen before. It looks like a manor house in England. Or horse stables maybe. There's also like an apartment over the four garage bays and a pitched roof. Haha, I could live there very nicely. I drive up a little further hoping to see the sports car's license plate because Willie used to somehow get part of his name on his license plates. In Massachusetts, they're called vanity plates and cost a lot more than normal license plates.

But no, I'd need to get out of my car to see the license plate on the sports car and, anyway, Willie isn't the only person in the world with a sports car. Well, fuck, now I'm gonna need to back all the way down this long winding driveway because these parked cars prevent me from turning around. Balls! Way to think ahead dummy!

I'm about to put the car in reverse but stop because a policeman steps out behind the tall hedges and walks under the arbor to smile at me. Huh, that's not something I see very often... a smile from a cop. He's walking over so I push the button to lower the window, and he says, "Good afternoon. There's another parking area you'll need to use. There are, as you can see, too many cars parked here already. Sorry, but, um, if you'll back out and go down to your right about two hundred yards." I nod, and then he adds, "It's the service road? The rich aren't like everybody else, are they?" and he chuckles. Huh, he doesn't assume I'm rich obviously. Must be the Kia I'm driving.

Well, he's friendly enough, so I'm like, "Oh, thanks, but I'm not actually invited to the party although I'm wondering...." He immediately loses the smile, and goes, "Oh? Whaddaya doing here then?" Fucking cops, ya know! I actually think I'm allergic to law enforcement officers 'cause Chubby and I never could get along with them. Because of that, perhaps there's an edge to my voice, as I say, "I'm here because one of my best friends, um, it's just that, ah, I'm not positive he still lives here, so I was gonna ask you......" but he's bending down leaning his face close to the car's open window and interrupts me to say, "You don't know where one of your best friends lives? That's curious." I go, "A friend I haven't seen for quite a while, yeah. I thought I might surprise him."

The cop stands up and motions with his hand saying what all cops say automatically, "Let's see some ID." I go, "No! There isn't any reason you need to see my ID." He stares at me a few seconds until I mumble, "Well, there isn't, is there?" He's had enough of me and so he talks into some little thing near his shoulder, saying, "I've got a situation at the garage," and then to me, "I'm gonna need you to step out of the car."

I don't do that either, and then another cop comes from somewhere. An older man, who asks, "What's up, Rick?" Rick says, "This guy isn't an invited guest and he won't show me his ID or get out of the car." The older guy asks me, "Why are you here if you weren't invited?" I go, "As I told him, I came to maybe surprise a friend who I haven't seen for a while. I didn't know about this party and, I'm not positive my friend still lives here, but I'll bet he does." He asks, "What's this friend's name?" I tell him and he goes, "Oh! Yeah, well, what's your name?" I tell him and he looks at the young cop, saying, "Call over and see if Mr. Worthington knows this guy." Oh good, Willie still lives here. I knew he would, but I didn't know he'd be home from college. Or, maybe his father is the 'Mr., Worthington' the cop is referring too. No, Mr. Worthington wouldn't be having an afternoon barbecue party!

The young cop, Rick, after giving me another hard look because of all the trouble I'm causing him, uses a sort of walky-talky to talk to someone at the party. I hear him get my name wrong, "There's a Dylan Nummen here." The moron!

Both cops turn their backs on me to talk. I can hear them as Rick tells the old cop, "Artie's checking," and then they start discussing how they're going to handle it when everyone is leaving in their cars with no room to turn around. The old cop scolds Rick in a kinda nice way, "You shouldn't have let people park like this, Ricky. They all should have turned their vehicles around in that area in front of the garage where you allowed someone to park their sports car. Car control is the main reason we're getting paid for this detail, pal. Keep things in line, under control, and moving smoothly." Ricky whines, "I told the guy not to park there but he just grinned at me and walked right by me. He lives here... it's his garage." The old guy goes, "Yeah? Well, now some of these people will need to back all the fuck down this winding driveway and they're gonna be half-drunk and we're gonna..." and Willie comes jumping over a flowering shrub and then almost knocks the two cops over when he comes over, yelling, "Dylan!"

He grabs the Kia's door handle and pulls, but the door is locked. Smiling, I quickly open the door and get out. We do a big hug and then Willie gives me a sloppy kiss on my mouth right in front of the cops. Keeping his arms around me, he asks me, "How'd you know about my engagement party?" The two cops stare at us wide-eyed. Before I can ask who's getting engaged, Willie lets go of me, but then takes hold of my hand pulling me away from the car and, completely ignores the cops as if they aren't even here, Willie's saying, "C' mon we need to get reacquainted." We walk past the flabbergasted cops toward the house with Willie still holding my hand.

As we go under an arbor the young cop, Rick, yells, "Hey, you can't leave this car here!" Willie doesn't reply and I hear the older cop say to the young cop, "I guess he can if he wants to," and the young cop goes, "Fuck though, isn't he the kid that just got engaged to that good looking girl?"

That's all I hear 'cause I'm having trouble keeping up with Willie's long strides, as he's saying, "Dylan, you showing up is the best surprise I've had in three years! How'd you know?" and he squeezes my hand. I go, "I didn't even know you were home! I drove down from college around noon and had lunch with the guy my mom is marrying, and then I missed the turn for Route 128. I saw the sign for Weston and, on a whim, thought I'd drive by your house. I was just gonna look at the garage. I don't know why, um, I just got the urge to see the garage for old time sake I guess."

We're going in the same side door we always used when coming from the garage. I can see just the edge of the backyard from here but I can sure hear the music which sounds like a band as opposed to a DJ playing tunes. Willie's saying, "That urge, Dylan, was karma, kismet, fate, and a form of destiny all rolled up in one awesome bundle." Jokingly, I go, "So you're saying I'm in the nick of time to put an end to your wedding?" He goes, "Oh, no, don't do that. I want to travel all over Europe on our honeymoon. Katrina is beautiful and I want everyone to see me with her." I go, "Who's everyone?" He shrugs, "The Europeans, of course." Oh, of course...

It's mind-blowing enough that I decided to take this idiotic side trip to see Willie's garage and, as silly as that is, finding Willie not only home from college, which is an unbelievable coincidence in and of itself, BUT it's his engagement party. I mean, get serious! Something like this could only happen with Willie.

Inside the house, I ask, "Why are we in here. Willie? The party is in your back yard." We're standing in the big foyer area near the back staircase. The kitchen is to the left, the living room to our right and straight ahead is, um, I don't know what to call it. It's a ballroom-size room with the far wall made from a line of French doors, all of them leading out to the huge, um, I'd normally call it a deck but it's more than that. It's a ginormous fancy porch and then beyond that are steps leading down to a large patio and then the beginning of the back yard, that's much more than a back yard.

Willie says, "I'm deciding where to take you. But it's actually obvious where we need to go, isn't it?" I shrug, and he says. "We'll go to my bedroom, of course." I go, "NO! What about all your guests? Everyone is here for your, um, engagement. You can't just disappear. Listen, Willie, I'm gonna go. This was a dumb idea I had and that asshole cop will have my car towed..."

He ignores all that as he's yelling, "Frederick!" I go, "Who's Frederick?" and a man dressed as a waiter in a five-star restaurant comes from the kitchen, saying, "You bellowed, William?" Willie says, "Oh, sorry I yelled. I'm excited because my best friend finally arrived," then to me, "Whaddaya wanna drink, Dylan?" Blowing out my cheeks and then exhaling slowly, I say, "I'll have one beer with you, Willie." He tells Frederick, "Two Stellas, please," and to me, "You can sleep over, right?" I go, "Noooo! You must be kidding... what would your fiancé say?" Willie mumbles, "She won't mind."

Frederick is fast. He's back with two green bottles of Stella Artois beer. I like beer in green bottles. Willie says, "Thank you, Frederick, and I apologize for yelling at you." Frederick is sort of distinguished-looking and he has a nice smile as he says, "Very well, apology accepted... and enjoy reuniting with your attractive best friend." There was something about the way he said that, but I don't have time to figure it out now because Willie's got my hand again and we're going up the back stairs with him saying, "You and I always felt the most comfortable in my bedroom, Dylan, and may I say you look exactly like you did the last time I saw you except I like this haircut better." I can't remember the last time I saw him, never mind what haircut I had at the time.

Willie is looking kinda mature. I've always thought he was a cute guy, but in a bit of an unusual way with his sort of long head but attractive facial features and pretty eyes and sexy mouth. He's a little taller than me but not much. He's still slim, but not as slim as me. Haha, his hand feels good holding mine and I really would like to hug and kiss him because there's a special place in my heart for Willie. He has nice hair too, dark brown and now it's cut short, probably a $125 haircut. One I could have given him for free... and done it better too. I don't know why but I never did do a haircut for him, not even once.

Looking at the excited expression on his face, yeah, he still has a certain cuteness. He's good looking and he looks rich too. Well, he's wearing what might be mistaken for casual clothes although his slacks, belt, sweater, and loafers probably cost more than Chub and I paid for our car. Willie looks very nice and just as sexy as he's always looked to me. Yes, that's the number one feature about Willie's 'looks'... he's sexy-looking.

At the top of the stairs, I ask, "Am I gonna get to meet your bride to be, what'd you say her name was... Candy?" His grin causes me to do a subtle shiver because it gave me chills... in a good way. His grin and the little wrinkle at the bridge of his nose brings back a million memories, sweet memories, although there are also a lot of crazy memories best forgotten too. Yeah, but Willie has always grinned at everything, even at the disasters he's caused us to be involved in. He says, "Maybe I'll call her Candy from now on, but her name is actually, Katrina. And, no, I don't want you meeting her 'cause she's very intuitive and bright and she'll see immediately that I love you eight times as much as I love her. She can read minds too."

I shrug 'cause I don't want to meet her anyway. Mostly, what I'm thinking about is dealing with the two police officers fifteen minutes from now, assuming they haven't towed my car already, so one beer is all I'm having! At the top of the stairs Willie takes a long swallow of his beer and then pulls on my hand and we walk down the hall to his room. It's the same ridiculously large bedroom I remember so well, a suite actually. His bathroom is larger than Rob's and my apartment. Lots of fixtures in the bathroom, including a Jacuzzi that we fucked in more than once.

He closes the door and it's silent in here. Willie takes my beer and puts it with his on a table just inside the door. He pulls his sweater, silk I think, over his head, saying, "Get undressed, Dylan. I won't be able to catch my breath until we make love. Quickly, please." Even for Willie, this is crazy! I pick his sweater up off the floor where he dropped it, and say, "There are fifty or more people out there, Willie. They came to your engagement party." He goes, "Most of them are my parent's friends although Father sent a nice little jet for Katrina and me plus her bridesmaids and my, um, what do you call the guys in your wedding party. Ushers?" I try not to, but I laugh anyway, and then say, "Or, groomsmen, I think." He says, "They're all in our class at school. I wanted you as my best man, obviously, but I promised you I wouldn't bother you." I go, "That's not what was said the last..." but he's ignoring me again and pulling at my belt. I go, "No, Willie!"

He stops and I'm like, "You're engaged, for Christ sakes. Calm down and tell me about it." He goes, "Oh, yeah. Well," and, taking his sweater from my hand he drops it on the floor again and goes, "We're buddies, Katrina and me, and then one day she finally said, and this is after we've been goofing around as friends for two years, she says something like... don't I want to fuck her so I told her I'm gay and she goes, I know that, but so what?"

I'm trying to follow that as we sit on the edge of his over-sized bed as I ask, "So, you're saying that's what made you decide to get married?" Willie grins, muttering, "Well, yeah, of course. It'll be fun for a while. She's a good dancer too." I'm like, "Did you, ya know, fuck her...?" Willie shrugs, "Yeah, I had to. I didn't want to hurt her feelings and it wasn't so bad except female bodies are gross feeling, ya know?" I shake my head and he adds, "She's really nice. You're better looking though." I go, "You said she was beautiful." He nods, "Yeah, she is," and he pulls his phone out and shows me a picture of the two of them.

Sitting together on the edge of his bed, he puts his arm across my shoulders while I'm looking at the picture on his phone. I don't think she's beautiful but I can see why some people might think so. She fixes herself up really nicely with good makeup, but I think her nose is a little too prominent and her mouth is too wide. She has a classical 'look' though, I guess. Anyway, I say, "She's a knockout, Willie... gorgeous!" He goes, "Thanks, but you're better looking." I'm like, "Stop it!"

Without another word, he takes his arm off my shoulder, turns and pushes me onto the bed so I'm lying on my back with my feet still on the floor as Willie gets between my legs leaning over me, his face hovering over mine. We look into each other's eyes as he asks, "How come you never called me?" I mutter, "I don't know. I'm sorry. I thought about calling you fifty times, but..." He goes, "But you're still with that damn Dickers, right?" I go, "Yes, we're in love." He goes, "So are we," and I mumble, "It's a different kind of love, Willie." He nods his head and says, "For you, it might be different, but not for me."

I touch the side of his face, murmuring, "You'll always be my first love," and he says, "Please have sex with me so I'll be able to think of today when I need to, you know... with Katrina." I'm hesitating because I don't want to rekindle anything in Willie, or me. But he meant so much to me when I was so young and inexperienced and I want him always to think of us as great friends, but damn we're not young now. Ah, hell, I can't say no, so I murmur, "Sure. It'll be something I can remember too 'cause you're very special to me."

He nods his head slowly, then murmurs, "You're the nicest person to me I've ever, um..." and then he gives me the best most sincere lover's type kiss I can ever recall him doing with me. Jesus, I can't help feeling bad for Willie living his crazy disjointed life. He's had everything money could buy, but unfortunately, that doesn't include love. And Willie's been searching for himself forever too it seems. In high school he was super submissive-acting and was the 'bottom' for fat Carl and Carl's cousin. Then he switched to being a dominant lover for me and then, during the years after Robby and I fell in love, whenever I'd see Willie he'd be doing different versions of himself, but they were recognizable ones until a couple of years ago when he intensified his submissiveness to the point where some obnoxious fuck was walking him around on a leash. Saving him from that was the best thing I've ever done on my own, even better than saving Willie from his 'maybe' suicide attempt, and now he's marrying some girl from college because she asked him to fuck her and she doesn't care that he's gay... plus she's a good dancer. Willie's still looking for love.

I'm surprised by the tenderness and intensity of his kiss because he never did a lot of kissing when we were doing our puppy-love thing together. Now he lifts his head a little doing his grin, me still slightly breathless from that unexpected intense lovers'-like kiss. I'm looking into his pretty dark eyes as he quietly says, "It's so eerie you showing up like this, Dylan... eerie and the most wonderful thing that's ever happened to me. It's mystical and I can hardly believe it, but here you are." I nod and mumble, "I don't know what to say. I have no explanation for why I decided to come here today, except maybe, um... no, I got nothing."

He slides backward off the bed pulling me up and onto my feet, saying, "It was fate, Dylan. I know it was." Letting go of my hands he states matter-of-factly, "We'll undress each other now." Well, I like standing submissively in front of a cute guy with my arms at my side enjoying the feel of his hands on me as they're fumbling with buttons and pulling down zippers and telling me, "Put your arms up," so he can pull off my shirt... and so on.

Willie doesn't say anything though. He takes off my clothes one by one and then, as I hoped and expected he'd do, he rubs his hands over every part of my naked body. Meanwhile, I'm drifting into a wonderful trance-like state... it's like being hypnotized. The trance isn't new, but the reason for slipping into it is because Willie hasn't done this to me in a few years. Then he says, "It's nice you still shave your pubes. I started you doing that, you know." Did he? I forget but it seems like something he'd do.

His eyes stare at me while lightly rubbing his fingers over me and then he does his grin as he's playing with my nip-ring until my nipple is hard and pointy. He lightly rubs my shoulders and then stares intently at my small tattoo before nodding his head and getting so close to me our noses are almost touching and I remember his natural scent, it's still one of my all-time favorites. Both his arms go around me to rub up and down my back, and then up the back of my head as shivers skitter all over me from his light touching fingertips that are tantalizing my taut skin, and then it's the palms of his hands. Yeah, I love being touched by the right person.

The way Willie touches me, um, I don't know... he does it as if my body is a priceless artifact or something so fragile he's afraid he'll break it. His light touching is sexy as hell and I like watching his eyes staring at the different parts of me as he's touching there. He stares as though he's memorizing every pore of my skin. Omigod, it feels good, and now as he looks into my eyes he's rubbing my shaved groin, his fingers sliding over my hardening cock. With his trademark little grin, he quietly says again, "Aw, I can't get over you're still doing this. In memory of me, huh?" I nod my head and grin back at him although, as I said, I've forgotten how or why I started doing it, so maybe he's right.

He rubs my cock and my body stiffening as I gulp, Ooh," and then he wraps his hand around it and strokes it until my eyes close and I moan, "Mmm, aaah Willie...." Still slowly stroking my boner, Willie drops his head forward until his forehead is against mine, his breath softly on my face like a light breeze as he slowly strokes, strokes, strokes my rock-hard boner. My arms go around him clutching him to me, our bodies touching, the side of my face against Willie's now as another quiet moan leaves my throat. I'm lost in this extremely pleasant experience and my tongue, seemingly on its own licks Willie's cheek like a kitten lapping at a bowl of milk. He whispers, "That's my Dylan," and he lets go of my cock and puts both his hands on my buttocks pulling my crotch against his, my hard boner tightly up against my belly.

I'm mesmerized by his touching and stroking and when he stops it's my turn to take his clothes off although I don't do it as sexily as he did it for me. He's so smooth and so experienced at being in charge. Instead, because of my trance-like condition, I'm fumbling unbuttoning his belt, my forehead resting on his shoulder looking down at my shaky hands screwing-up this simple task. He's again rubbing gently up the back of my head not saying anything and being patient as I slip into a submissively dreamy area all of a sudden. It feels so good, so safe and mysteriously familiar too... mysterious considering we haven't been together for a couple of years.

Also, I'm fascinated by the 'feel' of his clothes... the material, the fabrics his clothes are made of. It's all extremely soft and yet each piece holds its shape and crease perfectly. Oh man though, when I finally get his clothes mostly off him it's his hot body I quickly turn my attention to and I return the favor by rubbing all over his taut skin and his nicely defined muscle groups. No, he's not ever gonna be on the cover of some body-builder magazine because he's too slim, but his body has the subtle definition in all the right places. Understated, but nicely developed pecs, biceps, and abs. There's no six-pack but his stomach is hard and flat and, well, it's a very sexy body.

Willie is another guy with mostly a hairless body and over the years I've vacillated between thinking hairy bodies are sexier and then changing my mind going back to the opinion of my youth thinking hairless ones are sexier, which is the opinion I'm presently going with, maybe because Robby and Danny have mostly hairless bodies.

When I'm on my knees taking off his shoes and socks, Willie obligingly lifts his feet one at a time helping me get his cool Louis Vuitton loafers off. I know they're Louis Vuitton from the logo which I only know from Willie telling me years ago. As I hold and feel the shoe, Willie says, "That alligator skin." I look up, muttering, 'Really? It's so soft," and he shrugs like... whatever.

He's naked now except for the one thing I've left for last. I hook my forefingers on either side of his underpants and slowly pull them down all the way to his feet. Willie steps out of them and I glance at the label: 'Derek Rose, Bailey type. Pure Italian Silk'' Huh. I'm almost positive that's not the Derek Rose who plays in the NBA. Forgetting about that, my eyes travel back up Willie's legs until I'm I staring at his big balls and long penis... wow... they're just as I remembered them. Duh, ya think?

Yeah, Willie has a special 'package'. He's shaved his pubic hair in the past but he hasn't done it recently. The hair around his cock and balls is very much like the hair on his head, although it's wavier. It's not like pubic hair at all and it grows in a modest pattern as if Willie purposely shaved it into the neat way it grows naturally. I rub my fingers in the hair right around his long cock. His unusual pubic hair surrounds his eight-inch long penis and large nut sack that's weighted down by his big balls. Yep, Willie shoots out more spunk than anyone I've ever had sex with. I almost drowned once while deep-throating for him. While his penis is above-average lengthwise, it has about the same heft as mine, it's no bigger diameter-wise than mine, which makes it looks even longer than eight inches. Well, it does get longer the harder it gets inside me, but I obviously don't see it when it does. I feel it though.

Willie sees me staring, and murmurs, "You can own the whole package, Dylan. They're all yours if you want them." That snaps me out of my stupor a little and I drop his underpants on the carpet, and mutter, "I don't want to own them, Willie, but I do admire them." Glancing again at his cock causes my body to do a sexy shudder of anticipation. Willie mumbles, "I saw that little shudder," and he reaches down to grip under my arms pulling me to my feet.

He murmurs, "I love you," and he wraps me in his arms. As our naked bodies rub together, I put my arms around him and rest my face against the side of his neck and then shudder again inhaling the wonderful natural scent of his skin. There are many reasons in my youth I was captivated by Willie, and I mean captivated on and off for over two years, seriously captivated. Some of those reasons are rapidly flooding back into my consciousness although there's nothing like youth... youthful everything, and we've both aged five years older since those earliest days but I remember when...

Standing together naked like this, in each other's arms, I'm thinking how odd it was that we never did much making out as foreplay, maybe because we were too young to fully appreciate deep kissing. We must have done some making out but it certainly was nothing like the way Robby and I make out or the way Danny and I do it. Willie has been doing more kissing today than maybe all our previous kisses combined, but then he's always been into bodily touching, as I am too, so that's mostly been effective foreplay for us in the past. He likes bodily contact and he knows how to do it in ways that have me squirming with sexual arousal, that and his scent and his 'looks' and his confidence... and the few kisses too.

Willie rubs his hands over me, his groin pressed against mine as he's rubbing the side of his face against mine and then moving his head so we're facing. After doing his grin, he rubs noses and then our lips are smearing together moving side to side spreading our saliva on both our mouths, then our cheeks, and chins. I like it a lot and I'm acting totally docile for him, letting the shivers dazzle me even as they make my dick hard.

Willie's and my naked bodies are tight together, his hands and fingertips all over me for only two minutes, or maybe not that long before another moan of arousal slips out of me and then Willie kisses me with lots of tongue movement. He's definitely developed his kissing in the last few years. His tongue is that bright very-pink color that looks uber clean no matter if it is or not. It's slightly firm too, definitely not mushy but not too hard either and it's a perfect size as it slides sexily against my tongue.

I'm clinging to him allowing myself to feel delightfully submissive hoping to relive the early Willie-experience that was so special in my past and realizing I need to make the most of this as I'm unlikely to ever have the opportunity or the desire to do it again. I mean, I don't know if it'll be another two years before I see Willie and I'm expecting my buddy-sex days are winding down as my commitment to Robby gets stronger.

Anyway, I'm letting the submissive sense slide over me although with Willie it's rarely been an especially rough dominate sub/dom sexual experience. He's always been in charge, of course, and everything must be done his way but not in some hard-ass dominant manner. It's always been that way and just feels right for both of us. Frankly, I wouldn't want it any other way with him.

His hand goes up the back of my head again, his face inches in front of mine, as he murmurs, "You probably wouldn't believe how much I yearn to have you all to myself all night tonight. I mean since I can't have you forever. Oh man, in my bed tonight I'd make love to you like before and we'd be happy." He kisses me again, a quick kiss on the lips and then he quietly says, "There are so many ways I want to have sex with you but I'll need to settle for you sucking my cock and then I want you to please lean over the side of the bed keeping your cute boy pussy, your adorable ass, up for me like you always used to do it, and I'll fuck you the way you like it... hard."

I hesitate, not sure if he's through telling me what to do. Then he says, "Go ahead, Dylan," meaning... do what you're told. That gets my dick buzzing as I drag my hands down his sexy body as I'm slowly dropping to my knees. My cock is, all of a sudden, brick-hard and up against my belly. His cock is very firm but not a full-blown boner yet, and it's too long to stand out straight unless it gets as hard as mine is right now. When it's inside me it's hard enough and it does stand out straight as a poker, and just as hard.

On my knees, I wrap my arms around his ass and push my face against his cock. His pubic hairs are soft against my forehead and cheeks. All my mostly forgotten Willie-memories of our sex together are coming back, blossoming brightly in my consciousness now. It's as if my brain was saving these memories to spring on me for a reunion like this one. I feel good in this sweet submissive frame of mind drifting lazily within one of my dreamy sexual trances.

It's pleasantly different from any other dreamy sexual trances, unique because of my background with Willie. Our last time together was during my sophomore year at Merrimack. Willie surprised me by renting a motel room in kind of a dump of a motel a few miles from the college and with my help, he totally covered the room and the bed with heavy plastic and other things so we didn't need to touch any part of that old motel room. New mattress cover and pillows and towels and I forget what else. We went shopping and he bought new everything and then just left it there the next morning. Imagine the shock on the maid's face when she went in to change the bedding! That was a typical 'Willie' experience.

That and many other memories are why I'm into this 'Willie-trance' right now. A really nice trance that, as I said, is different from any other. Pulling my head back slightly I lick his long cock from the head up to the root that's buried in his pubic hair. Willie rubs my head like everyone does when I'm sucking their cock, and I like that. It feels good, him rubbing my head, so I kiss his cock and then lift it with my fingers and suck on the normal-sized head.

There is no taste to it but I conjure up in my head that it tastes like Willie although, of course, it's his scent I think I'm tasting. My hand is a fist around the long shaft now and I begin stroking steadily while continuing to lick and suck on the head. It takes almost no time at all for his cock to grow into a hard boner and, without hesitating, I bob my head forward taking the head and at least two inches of the shaft into my throat to work my throat muscles on it. My cock gets harder as I hear a quiet moan from Willie and then he shuffles his feet and tries pulling my short hair.

Bobbing my head so his boner is plugging into and out of my throat, bob, bob, bob. I do it for thirty seconds causing deep sexual arousal in me. Omigod, it quivers sticking defiantly straight out from my hairless groin. I adjust my knees closer to him and squeeze Willie's butt cheeks and then push at his asshole with my middle finger. He groans, humps his hips and a long drool of pre-cum rolls out onto my tongue and then the head of his cock drags some of that big drool into my throat when my head bobs forward again. I bob a few more times, the pre-cum allowing an easier slide down my throat and more of the shaft goes down, down, down making me gag.

Hearing me gagging, Willie steps back pulling his boner from my throat, and then completely out of my mouth. It slides out smoothly on my bottom teeth that, without needing to consciously think about it I covered with my bottom lip from the very start. Sitting back on my ankles as I usually do after sucking cock, I stare fascinated at the saliva and pre-cum string stretching from my mouth to the head of his cock... the elasticity of it, the strength of it. It's an eighteen-inches long shimmering string of 'us'. It dislodges and falls toward me when Willie strokes his boner and moans. The string drops down from the force of gravity and stickily lands across my chin then, bending under it, sloppily stick in a streak on my neck extending down past my small Adam's apple.

I'm wiping at the sticky wetness on my neck as Willie murmurs, "Always the best cock sucker ever, the best who has ever had my cock in their mouth. That's you, Dylan," and he bends forward to get a hand under my armpits to pull me up to my feet. Willie isn't a 'spanker', he's hardly ever spanked me and he doesn't this time either. He's used sex toys on me a few times, dildos and things like that and it was good sexy fun.

The extreme sexual heat I used to experience with Willie is missing although he murmurs, "Holy fuck, I can hardly breathe I'm so hot with desire for you. You know what to do, so please...," and then he reaches around and smacks my ass twice, adding, "Do it, now baby." Huh, maybe he has added spanking to his sexy endeavors.

Ya know, he's said 'please' and 'baby'... so who am I'm thinking of now? Yeah, and I like Willie's sweet voice and the friendly camaraderie manner he said that very much like someone else. I know what Willie meant, of course... he's the boss and he expects me to do what he said a couple of minutes ago. Follow the instructions he gave me just before I sucked his cock, I lie over the side of the bed with my legs spread and my ass held high and wait for him to fuck me hard. Yeah, very similar to the way Danny and I have sex... Danny's always the boss and me doing what I'm told while he's being sweetly dominant about it. Isn't that an odd thought? The 'please' and 'baby' aren't words that I usually associate with buddy-sex partners, Danny being the exception... and now I remember Willie's the other exception, the first one actually, and that's out of the fifty-or-so side sex partners in my rambunctious five years as an over-sexed gay lad.

Yeah, but it's very sexy being with Willie right now so I'm gonna concentrate on that and save my comparisons for another time. The thing is though, Willie appears very aroused and sexually hot and to a lesser degree, of course, I'm experiencing sexual arousal too but mostly it's more along the lines of nostalgia for me whereas Willie's into the same arousal he's always felt when he and I are together. Maybe that's because he hasn't changed much at all in two years and I have.

We've rarely used lubricant because we were kids when we did most of our fucking and didn't know any better. I don't expect Willie will use it now either because he doesn't appear to have adjusted his thinking in any noticeable way from five years ago. I hear ragged breathing from him and feel his hard long cock rubbing against my asshole, wet with pre-cum. He's very aroused so I don't expect to hear any more talking and then he rams his boner up my ass about three inches and it hurts! It hurts but his boner isn't especially thick so it's not like I'm screaming. It still stretched my anus quite a bit though and my asshole doesn't appreciate being awoken abruptly like that so it responds by causing me pain so I lift my chest up a little off the bed, groaning, "Ow, oooh..." Willie puts a hand on my back pushing my chest gently down against the bed as he's pushing four more inches of hard boner up my ass. I groan into the nice smelling bedspread as Willie slowly slides the remainder of his eight-inch boner very tightly inside me, and then he leans firmly against my buttocks.

A muffled moan of pleasure from Willie as he pulls his cock back about six inches and rams it in again. That seriously hurt too, but it hurt perfectly with a splash of sexual pleasure... the way it's supposed to. Then another a hard thrust up my ass, all eight-plus inches this time and I groan again, "Ow, ahhh, ow," and then he does it again but even harder and after two more times with my body stiff and my hard boner snugly under me, I'm pretty fucking submissive by now.

The pain has my body stiff as a board. Willie does two more strong thrusts, and that does it... now a total submissiveness spreads from my brain down over my whole body and it relaxes me. My body gets limp and I'm totally docile for Willie. Nothing is spoken but Willie acknowledges my body-language acceptance of his dominance by doing a couple of gentle thrusts and now he does say something, a murmured, "That took longer than I remember, Dylan. You've been spoiled, haven't you?"

His voice seems to be coming from a great distance and I pay little attention to it. I'm concentrating on that long eight-plus inches of hard cock that's now casually is sliding back inside me, almost as if it's a part of my rectum... a moving part of my tight but now cooperating and accommodating rectum. It recognized who's the boss and surrendered to Willie's conquering boner. Still, a rectum will only open the minimal amount required for whatever size intrusion, and not a millimeter more so it's never loose inside there.

Willie, successful in his conquest, rubs his hands up and down my back, cooing, "Yeah, here's my favorite boy," and then he fucks me hard for three minutes with loud slapping sounds of our bodies colliding ringing in our ears. Forget nostalgia now, it's all sexual pleasure for me and I'm not thinking about who changed and who hasn't, or who reminds me of who in the way they fuck me. It feels fantastic and that's on my mind... the only thing on my mind.

Sexual pleasurable sensations rush to the pleasure center of my brain and they get returned immediately to my rectum and hard cock making me moan and push my ass back more at that thundering long boner. I know it's Willie, I don't lose the sense of that, but where we are and how we got here aren't concerns on my mind now. Only me, Willie, our cocks, and my ass matter to me at this moment in our universe's billions and billions of years worth of time. This is the only amount of those billions of years I care about right now.

My hard boner buzzes amazingly under me, it's feeling as good as it's possible to feel and, as my climax rushes to the tipping point... Willie stops. He pulls his long slippery cock from my ass and says, "Slide up on the bed and get on your back now." My whole body shuddered when that long cock pulled out and my climax retreated, not sure what just happened I'm still shuddering but do what I'm told and flop over on my back.

Willie looks at me, raising his eyebrows in anticipation of... what? Oh, yeah, I pull my legs back and Willie gives me a grin cocking his head until I wrap my arm around my legs pulling them back so far the back of my thighs almost touch my chest and then spread them, my feet hanging out of the way. Willie nods his head with approval and just then an embarrassing whimper of desire slips out of my throat. Oh fuck, he still has it!

Yeah, he can still get me as submissive as anyone... that's so cool. He steps forward and pushes my legs wider apart before tightly sliding his boner back up my ass. Omigod, nothing can feel this good! It slides tightly in that tantalizing extra couple of inches making me squirm and moan on the bed. All my analyzing interests have left my head and it's all about sex now.

Willie grins, murmuring, "You remember everything, don'cha Dylan?" Not sure exactly what he means I go, "Uh huh," and then I'm in ecstasy for another two minutes of Willie's hard thrusting, his stainless steel long boner flashing in and out, all eight inches every time. Thrusting so hard it jostles me on the bed, bumping me up and down on the mattress as Willie's breath comes out as grunts of exertion.

I'm looking at his face that's sort of scrunched up as though he's in pain although I know he's not. Beads of sweat on his forehead, his hair getting sweaty and sticking to his forehead as he relentlessly drives his hard long sex organ back and forth inside my ass until it's a pleasure trove of brilliant pleasure sensations sparkling from every nerve ending inside my ass, and there are millions of them. I'm doing one long moan, taking my arms from around my legs to reach up and get both arms around the back of Willie's neck to pull his head down until his forehead is wetly against my chin while he continues firing his hips driving his awesomely long boner tightly back and forth, in and out of my ass.

It lasts another spectacular minute, that's my best guess, and then I'm humping up off the bed and squealing as cum pumps hard from my boner, the streaking stream probably splattering against Willie's chest although I can't see where it landed because his head blocks my view. A second long stream of cum shoots from my fossilized cock at the same instant I feel a flood of warmth inside me as Willie humps against my butt cheeks and unloads his huge climax inside me, and again... and then we're motionless for a few seconds with heaving chests and thumping hearts.

With cum drooling from a few places, including my ass and Willie's chest, and some leaking from my cock, Willie pulls away from my arms to lift up almost standing. His hands grip my knees that I still have spread wide and pulled back near my chest. In that position, he thrusts his cock in my sloppy ass another minute or so with his eyes closed. I stifle a moan of exquisite pleasure and then Willie sighs and finally pulls out completely.

He looks dazed as he holds his hand down to me. I feel dazed myself as I take his hand and he pulls me up in a sitting position, and then off the bed so we're both standing. With him holding my hand I follow him into his huge bathroom where he turns on the shower and then he pulls me in behind him. This shower stall has five shower-heads pouring out water with amazing water pressure. Warm water pouring on us from all around... a person could drown in here if they're not careful.

Without saying a word, Willie uses a sponge with way too much awesome-smelling body gel to wash my body. He does it quickly but thoroughly taking three minutes at the most. Then, handing the sponge to me, I do likewise for him and six or seven minutes after we stepped in the shower, the sponge left on the floor, water from everywhere pouring on us, Willie turns me around so I'm leaning against a tile walls face first and, with my hands keeping me from touching the wall I push my ass out and he fucks me again, but not as hard this time. It lasts a wonderful six or seven minutes before I go, "Ahhh, oooh," and a spurt of cum shoots out of my latest boner. Goddamn, that felt good but it was this whole experience with Willie I'll remember always.

I know he had another climax too because there's cum at his piss slit when he pulls his cock out and strokes it as we stand together, still not talking as water roll over us for another minute or so. Willie turns the water off and we step out. He hands me a towel that's as large as a blanket and we dry ourselves, still without talking but we're doing a few grinning smirks at one another, rather pleased with ourselves. When dry, Willie simply says, "Let's get dressed. I feel good." I mutter, "Me too," and we get dressed. As I'm putting on my loafers, I go, "That was so good, Willie, a wonderful trip down memory lane with you."

Willie's dressed, combing his hair, saying, "To you, that was good, Dylan. To me it was spectacular and something I'll remember the rest of my life. Every time I fuck my bride, which ain't gonna be all that often, it'll be me fucking you in my mind just like we did this afternoon. You've given me the most wonderful gift anyone could. It's the best wedding present anyone could possibly give me." I don't want to mention the number of ways his comments about his future wife is just, um, so wrong, so unfair to her. I know better to try explaining that because in his mind there's nothing wrong with it at all, and who am I to argue logically with him about it. I'm not a freaking psychologist and maybe he and she have talked about it extensively. I've butted into enough people's lives with good intentions and, seriously... what do I know?

Walking downstairs, Willie holding my hand again, he says, "You understand I can't invite you to the wedding even though in my heart you're my best man. If you were there she would see immediately that you're the love of my life... and she does have a wicked temper. It's okay to her that I'm gay, but I'm not allowed to flaunt it in her face, ya know?" Um, no I don't, but I say, "Perfectly understandable, Willie. I'll be there with you in spirit."

In a way, our goodbye next to my car ten minutes later, minus the cops, is anticlimactic. I mean, it's anticlimactic after our hot sexy sex. I feel, although Willie's too optimistic to agree, that there's almost no chance we'll be together like this ever again. Hell, the coincidence of him being here, and for his fucking engagement party no less, the one time in two years I've driven by his house is... well, it's an absurd coincidence.

We kiss goodbye, and then Willie goes, "Thank you, my friend, you'll always be my best friend and the love of my life. Whatever happens to me the rest of my goofy life, I'll always remember this afternoon. And, of course, I'll never forget it was you and me for a good long while back in the day when we were young... I never expect to ever have ecstasy like that again." I go, "No, Willie, it's.... um, yeah, it was spectacular!"

He nods and smiles, murmuring, "Oh, baby, that makes me feel so good that you think those days were awesome too." I say, "You'll always be my first boyfriend and the first puppy love I ever had, Willie, so we've got our memories of each other, that's for sure! For me, they're very special memories and you're very special too." I'm getting in the car with Willie patting the roof, saying, "I can't wait till next time." I smile at him, saying, "Till next time then..." and I slowly start backing away. He waves and turns around to walk back under the arbor and out of sight. Sigh...

I need to back up all the way down this winding driveway with cars parked on both sides. Kinda nerve-racking so it isn't until I'm driving toward Route 30 that I'm thinking... holy shit, what was that? It was like a dream, a fantasy, but very real too and I really, really liked it! Talk about a trip down memory lane! Goddamn, that was as close to a pure fantasy as reality can be!

The rest of the time I'm driving back to North Andover I relive that half-hour and the special sex Willie packed into it. God, only with Willie, but there's something niggling at the back of my mind too. Something I thought about earlier that I want to ferret out if I can 'cause it seems important somehow. I'm finally pulling into the apartment complex when it hits me out of the blue. Yes, there's a surprising number of similarities between 'something' about Willie and 'something' about Danny! Yes, that's it! Their sweet, goofiness while being dominant, but dominant in the nicest way during sex, insisting on being in charge of our sex.

Dammit though, I can't put it into exact words the, um, movement by movement but the way they go about things and the way they fuck me... it's lots of things... even their bodies. Many little subtle things that, as I said, I can't verbalize but recognize. Huh, Omigod, could that be my subconscious attraction to Danny... me remembering my innocent time with the wonderfully crazy Willie. Is that the mysterious reason I just latched onto Danny one day, I was missing my youth with Willie? I hardly noticed Danny the previous three years I'd known him... nothing special clicked. Could my prick of a subconscious mind be fucking with me again? My unconscious playing tricks on me!

As I'm going inside the apartment mulling this over, I all of a sudden remember Rob's baseball game. Oh fuck, that's right! Haha, he's going to hit a home run for me but, oh shit, the game started at one o'clock. Damn, but maybe it's still going on. I change clothes really fast and then drive back on campus and then down to the ballpark. The games are free so I walk in and see Robby's up at-bat. Hot damn! Another coincidence today... jeez!

Taking a seat near the entrance, I sit down to watch the boy I chose over Willie in my first dilemma, and Robby's the one I'm choosing in my advanced age too, but that's never been seriously in doubt... not seriously. Robby better hit that Goddamn home run for me!

to be continued...

Donny Mumford thinat20@yahoo.com donnymumford@outlook.com

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Hoping some readers may be interested, there are books of mine published and available on Amazon.com. Anyone who has Kindle can download them for next to nothing. The books are usually around ten dollars. They are about a 19 year old gay boy (Oliver) who has a far different life than Dylan's. And there is a new book, 'Mike, his Bike and Me'. Please at least check them out by typing my name on Amazon.com. Information about the story in the books can be found in some detail there. Thank you.

Donny Mumford

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