Splash in the Pool

SPLASH IN THE POOL

SPLASH IN THE POOL

Jack Scribe

Warning:  The following story contains graphic descriptions of sex between consenting adult males. If you are underage or do not wish to read such materials, or if reading this sort of material is illegal in your jurisdiction, then read no further. This multipart story is entirely fictional, and any resemblances to actual persons are completely coincidental.

Special acknowledgements to David (aka ManHrd2Fnd) from the Lakeview area of Chicago and Brad from Denver for providing diligent proofing and editing of the story, and to Carey for being a patient teacher.

If you have any comments or suggestions for the author, feel free to write me at jack.scribe@gmail.com. I love feedback. Support Nifty!

Part 20, Party Time

MIKE

The next two weeks were S.O.P. - Standard Operating Procedure. I was busy with the activities at the Club. Being June, we were booked with weddings, primarily for the dependents of retired officers living in the Memphis area. Although bitching and complaining about our prices, they knew that nowhere else could a better value be found.

S.O.P. now included stopping by the pool mid-morning to meet my man. He was developing a tan that accented his tight, toned body. And, he had washed his lifeguard trunks several times more to achieve a lived-in look that was very sexy in a natural way. Not to arouse suspicion, I'd talk to him briefly before going to the Snack Bar to make sure the attendant was setting up for the day.

The late afternoon splash in the pool was quality time with Dave. While he straightened up and secured the pool area for the day, I would always get in 20 to 30 laps. By the time he was ready to clean up and go, I would join him in the locker room for a commingling shower and tender grope session. The pattern we established climaxed with a J.O. session occasionally. Tempting as it was, we edited our sexual desires. Afterwards, while toweling dry and dressing, we would talk about things a couple discusses, including plans for Fridays at the apartment. With the June wedding receptions, I had to be back at the Club on Saturdays to supervise the staff.

On Thursday, a week before the Carnival Memphis, Mrs. Clifton asked if I was available for lunch at the Club with Mrs. Crumpt to discuss the details of the following weekend. I suggested that we meet on the patio at 1200. In addition, I suggested that Ltjg. Di Marco join us. Mrs. Clifton thought that was a "lovely idea" as she described it.

Doug and I met at 1130 in my office.

"How about some coffee or iced tea?" I offered.

"I'll wait until the ladies get here." With the door closed, he asked, "How goes it with Dave and you?"

'It's funny,' I thought. 'I don't see Doug very often in the evening.' "Very solid." I answered. "We play the politically correct game here at the Club. But, in town it is really good."

"You two seem to have something very special."

"Well, Doug, it does appear that Brent and you could be going in that direction?"

"Shit. Is it that obvious?"

"He cares a great deal for you. And, you seem to return that. More that just friends?"

"I don't know how to go to the next level. There's something holding me back."

"Like fear?" I lowered my voice. "Like you may be rejected or spurned?"

"Yeah, Mike, something like that. Or, just making a commitment."

"My advice, buddy, is to be aggressive. When you two can schedule some time off, take Brent to some small romantic bistro in town and tell him what you feel. You might be surprised at the response."

Before he could comment, the intercom buzzed. "Mrs. Clifton has arrived, Mr. Cole," Marge passed on.

Knowing my voice was going to be heard in the outer office, I said, "Please tell Mrs. Clifton that Ltjg. Di Marco and I are leaving the office now."  A little suck-up posturing never hurts.

Doug and I came out to the lobby to meet Mrs. Clifton and Mrs. Crumpt.

"Good morning Mrs. Clifton," I greeted. Being correct in protocol, I waited for her to extend her hand. When she did, I shook it.

"Mike, good to see you. You too, Mr. Di Marco." She also offered her hand to Doug. "Please allow me to introduce Louise Crumpt to you two." We both focused our attention on this matronly, fiftyish woman that subtly announced 'old money' in her pink Chanel suit and white Fendi clutch bag.

Mrs. Crumpt offered her hands to us. I grabbed her left hand as Doug did the same with her right hand. We both smiled and nodded our heads.

"Since it's such a beautiful day, would you like to have lunch on the patio?" I asked. I had reserved the best tables in both the patio and the dining room.

"Louise, why don't we enjoy this lovely day outside?"

"That would be ideal, Liz." I had never heard anyone call Mrs. Clifton 'Liz'.

As we walked out to the patio, I led the way to our table. There were several murmurs in the crowded, al fresco dining area. Mrs. Clifton smiled and nodded in an almost regal manner as we approached the table.

We had a delightful lunch. The ladies had Cosmopolitans. Mrs. Crumpt couldn't have been more gracious. She told us that the five officers needed to be at the Chickasaw Country Club by 0730 on Friday the 26th for the press breakfast in dress whites.

"This is a question of endurance and pacing," Mrs. Crumpt advised. "Between the breakfast, club visits, balls, and the final party on Sunday morning, you need to remember that you are representing the Navy as officers and escorting the finest of Memphis' single women."

"Yes, Mrs. Crumpt. We will be a credit to the Navy and the Carnival." I didn't add that Doug and I would probably prefer to jump on the bones of some of the other civilian escorts.

"The big events will be the Crown and Sceptre Ball on Friday night and the Princess Ball on Saturday night. Before each event, you will be honored at the city's finest private clubs. And, on Sunday morning, the Mayor's Carnival Brunch at the University Club finishes the festivities for the Court," Mrs. Crumpt added.

"Be sure to bring two sets of dress whites," Mrs. Clifton, said addressing both of us. "There will be a special laundry service available to freshen up the uniforms if there is an accident."

"I'll see you at the press breakfast, boys. And I'll be sure to introduce you to my husband, Ted, at the Memphis Country Club Saturday evening for the Princess Ball," Mrs. Crumpt concluded.

After lunch, we rose and left the patio. Every move of ours had been visually documented for the past hour. I bid farewell to the two 'grand dames' and returned to my office. Doug left to go back to the BOQ.

DOUG

Well, that was a luncheon for the books. Mike and I were escorting Mrs. Clifton and Mrs. Crumpt with all eyes on us, chronicling every move, every nuance, every chew. I was amazed how Mike was able to maneuver in and out of the conversation. However, earlier, I became nervous when the topic turned to Brent. What was I going to do?

To accommodate the Carnival party weekend, I told Tan Man that I would be out of commission for three days. Brent was able to take up the slack. And, I was training Jim on his new role in entertaining. At some point, Brent and Jim would have to be brought together. This might be accomplished the weekend after Carnival.

*****

Early Friday, June 26, Mike and I were up and sharing the head to get ready. We both left in separate cars, determining that we would both use our in-town apartments through Sunday. I planned to meet Brent Sunday afternoon after all the parties. I just told him that it would be fun to have a quiet dinner somewhere. We were both unscheduled.

MIKE

I arrived at the Chickasaw Country Club gate at 0715. Doug was right behind me. After parking, we walked into this very genteel club with a feeling of studied luxury. The Chickasaw was looked at as the "New Money" club in Memphis.

"Makes our Club look like a double-wide trailer," I observed.

"I'll take our trailer any day, Mike," he replied smiling to all around us. I must say we looked spectacular in our 'whites'. The women took note with interest. The civilian guys, who must be part of the court, looked in envy at our military bearing.

'Yeah,' I thought, 'there is something about a uniform that really makes a statement.' Looking around, I saw our other three officers. They seemed relieved to find us.  Dr. Don Kriendler, Lt. Barney Bronson, and Ensign John Spelling were together drinking coffee. We had a meeting over beers last week to get an understanding of what we were going to do and discuss the general standards of conduct during this 72 hour drunken revelry.

"Hi guys," I said loudly. "Ready to party?"

Everyone hoisted his cup in toast mode.

At the same time, a beautiful young woman in a full-length lavender silk gown joined us. "Hi Navy, glad y'all could be with us. I'm Vera Crumpt. Which of you is Mike Cole?"

I shrugged and sheepishly raised my hand with a smile. She walked over and grabbed my hand and said, "Well, Mike, you and I have been paired for the weekend. Mom's told me all about you." She squeezed my hand lightly. "If the rest of you will follow Mike and me, we'll introduce you to your escorts for the weekend."

Initially we had a few moments, but then the entire group  - ten women and ten men -warmed up to each other. The women, mostly college seniors, were wild about the officer contingent. The local men, also seniors, didn't seem to welcome our Navy group at first, but the fact that we collectively had graduated from Cornell, Brown, Michigan, Southern Methodist, and UCLA helped. However, in no time, we were all "one of the guys." Macho male bonding prevailed.

One of the guys, whose name was Trevor, kept visually cruising me during the breakfast. However, I didn't acknowledge his stares. I had the one love of my life nearby. I would see Dave tonight.

Doug and I were the unofficial leaders of our group. The other guys took their cues from us. We posed with our princess escorts for the newspaper and TV cameras from all the local channels. All smiles. I gave some acceptable 20 second sound bites for the evening news. After the breakfast, we would begin the trek of partying that would end late Sunday morning.

As a group, we would travel by a chartered luxury bus. Each club visit schedule was calculated exactly by transit time and visitation. We would spend approximately 30 minutes at each club. By 2000 Friday and Saturday, we were to visit ten clubs daily for toasting of the court. On each club visit, we were expected to mingle with the members. The two balls afterwards were the highlight of the evening. "Whew,' I thought. 'All that and the Saturday morning parade.'

DOUG

Our "Royal" Court really had a blast. Except for Bill from Vanderbilt, all the guys paced the drinking on Friday. The Crown and Sceptre Ball at the Peabody was a huge success. The whole weekend was to promote Memphis commerce. And, we were promoting the Navy.

Early Saturday morning, everyone regrouped at the Chickasaw and bussed down to the start of the parade route. After the color guard, represented by the Navy and Marine Corps, an open car carrying the King and Queen of the Carnival led the way. Next was the Princess and Court float. We were all staged in couples on both sides of the float with the princess and her escort at the top. The parade had the usual mix of business themed floats, marching bands, and equestrian units. We tossed beads to the crowd. That was a real crowd pleaser.

We got back to the bus after the parade and made our way to the second day of club hopping. Vanderbilt Bill had recovered and was friendly, albeit mellow. The plan was to end up at the Memphis Country Club around 1800 to catch a breather and freshen up. The locker rooms would be available to us. The Princess Ball at the club started topside at 2000 with a formal procession, dinner, and dancing.

Arriving back at Chickasaw, we found that the committee had conveniently staged changes of clothes and toiletries in the locker rooms. The women had use of a team of beauticians and makeup artists. The guys could take advantage of the Jacuzzi, pool, steam and shower to relax. Most of us would shave again. The club had provided swim trunks that we could use.

I turned to the Navy contingent and said, "Guys, let's strip down and get on the trunks. That pool is too tempting to turn down."

"Yeah Doug, I'm with you," said Dr. Don. A little on the short side, he had good Navy bearing. His schooling at Brown had taught him poise and confidence that made up for any height challenge.

"Are the rest of you coming?" I yelled in a friendly challenging manner.

Almost in unison, the group replied, "Hell yeah!" At that point we went over to a table to find a pair of trunks that fit. They were Body Glove jammers. 'Sweet,' I thought, noticing the sign saying that the trunks were ours keep, compliments of the club.

Mike and I had lockers next to each other.  "Doug, I can really use a short swim, Jacuzzi and steam," he said. "This young body is beat."

As he stripped down to his briefs, I leaned over and whispered, "Your young body looks better that most of these guys." I winked and continued, "Be careful. Some of those college dudes have been checking you out."

"Looks are all they get." He smiled and winked.

As I undressed, I casually rotated around to check out the strangers and the other officers. Not a bad looking group. We were all trying not to be conspicuous in our glances at each other. Guys always had to compare.

Mike passed on, "Don't look now, but Trevor from the university is cruising you big time."

As I pulled up the trunks, I secured the locker and turned to see Trevor walking past me with his eyes riveted on me. "Y'all coming out to the pool, Doug?" he inquired with a soft Tennessee accent and smile.

"You bet, but I think a little Jacuzzi time first."

"That sounds good, I'll meet you there," Trevor tossed back as he walked into the wet area that led to the outdoor pool. He was a good-looking man. Probably 21 and about Brent's height with a clean, smooth, lean build. His blond hair was conservatively cut.

"Doug, your tongue is dragging," Mike said as we walked out together. "You planning on sampling the local goods?"

"Naw. I'm just going to play him a little. It's good for the ego." Mike laughed and lightly slapped me on my back. Outside, there were plenty of towels for us. At 1830 the last of June, it was still daylight with some sun.

"I'm going to try the pool." I'll see you in the Jacuzzi in a few." With that Mike jumped in with some of the group. Six of the guys were in the middle of good-natured horseplay and splashing.

I walked over to the Jacuzzi and eased myself in the hot bubbling water. "Hey Trev. Or, do you prefer Trevor?" Trevor was submerged except for his head.

"Either way. I think with you, 'Trev' sounds just fine."

"Trev, it is."  I sat down opposite him and scooted down. I let the jets of water pulsate on my back. God did this feel great. "We haven't had much time to talk. All I know is that you're at the University of Memphis. I think you know I graduated from UCLA a couple of years ago?"

"Good school. What was your major?"

"What else in Hollywood? Filmmaking. I plan on getting into the 'industry' as a production assistant when I get out of the Navy at the end of next year. How about you?"

"I'm studying Business Management and Marketing. I'll probably go into sales with some blue chip company. Probably computer software."

"That's a good growth area." I leaned back and stretched out, closing my eyes. Soon, I felt my feet and calves being stoked by Trev's feet. Keeping my eyes closed, I returned the favor.

"Doug, am I reading this right?" I opened my eyes to see him slowly move around closer to me. He had a curious expression.

Looking around and finding us alone, I responded, "Come over here next to me. I'll let you know how right you are."

Trev moved around the circular Jacuzzi and stopped within a foot of me, his eyes were concentrated on the path leading from the pool to the Jacuzzi. He reached over and placed his hand on my thighs. His grip was strong. Moving upwards, he stopped at my crotch and moved the hand slowly across my hard cock that was hanging to the left.

"Oh fuck, sailor, that's a big one." He started stoking me.

"Just be careful, Trev. The last thing we need is to shoot a load here." I reached over and discovered his excitement. His length and girth underneath the trunks were impressive.

"Yeah, you're right. How about getting together next week sometime for a beer?" Trev asked.

"That would be cool. How about Wednesday evening for an early get together."

"Fine. Where shall we meet?"

"Backstreet? Say 7 pm?"

"Deal," he replied, with a shit-eating grin.

"Just out of curiosity, I'm not competing with some boyfriend stashed away, am I?"

Chuckling, Trev replied, "No, just a girl that I'm a great friend with. She's always available when there's a fraternity party or dinner with the folks."

"Ok. Just checking. Listen, as much as I would like to continue this, I think we better calm down so we can go back and get cleaned up. No sense to start talk."

"Ah hear ya." He slowly released me and moved back to his original position. Just then, Mike joined us.

"Hi guys. I'm going to jump in here for a few minutes before getting cleaned up," Mike announced.

"Mike, I'm going to go back and shower. How about you, Trev?"

"Yeah, I've had enough time here," Trevor, replied.

"Save some hot water for me," Mike replied.

We climbed out and returned to the locker room. Once inside, phone numbers were exchanged.

At 2000, the entire Court was refreshed. The women had been coiffed and made-up beautifully. The guys cleaned up well. I was going to observe Trev closer and his social skills. I smelled bonus money soon.

Our Court made a grand procession into the club ballroom with fanfare. The Memphis Country Club was the pinnacle of local society. This is where the old money congregated. Each of us was introduced as we entered the room of 600 guests. After each introduction, the Court couple proceeded to the head table area to be received by Mr. And Mrs. Ted Crumpt.

"From Germantown, Miss Lynn Greenhaw, and her escort from Millington, Ltjg. Douglas Di Marco," was announced. We came into the ballroom to polite applause and walked up to the head table area. Mike and Vera had just been seated.

"Mr. Di Marco, it's good to see you again. And Lynn, you just look beautiful," said Louise Crumpt. "Allow me to introduce you to my husband Ted."

As I offered my hand I looked at Mr. Crumpt's face and immediately recognized him. His eyes momentarily became large with fear coming and going in a fleeting moment. "Mr. Crumpt, it is a pleasure." He shook my hand and greeted Lynn like another daughter.

"Mr. Di Marco, enjoy the evening with our favorite family friend," Mr. Crumpt replied, as he recovered from the initial greeting.

"Thank you, sir. I know we will," I politely countered. My mind wandered back to February when I knew Mr. Crumpt as 'George from Nashville.' Now I knew why the Tan Man had insisted that I entertain 'George' at my apartment. 'Fuck,' I thought at the time, 'For $1500, I'd trust Tan Man's judgment.'

Midway between courses, I excused myself and looked for the Men's Room. I got the attention of Mr. Crumpt. He understood. As I walked back to the lobby, I turned to verify that he was following. I waited until he arrived in the lobby by the Men's Room door.

"Ah, Doug, this is awkward," he said, in a low tone.

"No reason to be. This is a party. I left 'George' back at the apartment."

"I hope you understand why I prefer secrecy in my after hours enjoyment."

"May I call you Ted?" He nodded affirmatively.

"Absolutely."

"Ok, Ted. Bottom line is that we spent an evening together that we both enjoyed. As you are aware, our organization is very discrete. It's all about building trust. Your secret is safe."

"Yes?"

"Count on it. I hope that we get together again. In the meantime, let's party!" I shook his hand and we both smiled.

The following is another author's note taken in modified context with his permission. Drew Hunt is an excellent writer listed under Nifty's Prolific Authors:

"Have you ever wondered why there are so many unfinished stories on Nifty?  There is a small, but dedicated band of readers (about half a dozen in number) who write to me regularly about a story. But other than these kind people...
I'm left wondering if the public has lost interest.

Feedback is the only payment online authors receive."

Thanks to you who have taken the time to drop me a line. For new readers, I'd love to hear from you with comments and suggestions. Jack.scribe@gmail.com.