Stockroom Secrets Chapter 47 by Mark Peters
Stockroom Secrets
by
Mark 'Ponyboy' Peters
Chapter Forty-Seven
'Buen dia’
When I woke the following morning, I was the happiest man in the world. The man I loved had said yes!
He. Fucking. Said. Yes.
The night had been energetic, and exhausting, and we had slept late. In fact, Raffa was still sleeping, but I let him continue as I lay beside him, just watching and listening to him breathe. I noticed a speck of something white that had dried on his cheek and smiled to myself as I realised what it was.
When I gently picked the small speck of cum off him, he stirred, rubbing that spot, before moments later opening his eyes.
‘Buen día,’ I said to my husband to be.
For just a moment he looked confused, then a broad smile came over his face.
‘Buen día,’ he said.
I kind of liked us throwing these few Spanish words and phrases in every now and then. I was learning more all the time, and besides, it sounded sexy.
‘After last night, I’m starving,’ he added. ‘Breakfast?’
‘Shower first,’ I suggested. ‘I’ve just had to pick some cum off your face. I’d hate to see what the rest of you looks like.’
‘You’re about to find out then,’ he replied.
Throwing back the covers we both sat up before I then swung my feet to the floor and stood up. Walking around to his side of the bed I held out my hand then dragged him to his feet. He landed against me, and his arms immediately wrapped themselves around me, before he then kissed me.
‘Uurrgghh . . . garlic breath,’ he chided.
‘Let’s fix that then,’ I said, before leading him to the bathroom, where I switched on the shower and set the water to be just above warm.
We both stepped in and I closed the glass door so as not to flood the bathroom, then we proceeded to lather each other up and wash each other, taking our time in doing so, each touch sensual and exciting as we continued to caress and kiss; garlic breath or not.
We refrained from taking things too far, as it had been late when our bodies had finally parted last night, and we had drifted off to sleep. There was plenty of time for that later, as we still had another night to spend here.
A short while later we were heading for the restaurant, following another white gravel path, which led around the edge of the trout-filled lake. When we arrived there we found the place to be almost empty, but there was still a great selection of food available in the warmers, so after we were shown to a table we were soon tucking into a hearty meal.
‘So, this plan of yours . . .’ Raffa began, before shovelling a fork full of scrambled eggs into his mouth. ‘Do you think we’ll be able to pull it off?’
‘So does that mean you’re up for the challenge?’
‘Why the fuck not!’ he said with a laugh. ‘It could be fun.’
He went on to tell me that he was excited by the prospect of pulling a fast one over our family and friends, but it all hinged on one key factor . . . the involvement of our brothers and the fact they would need to keep their mouths shut for the next three weeks, which was when the party was due to be held.
‘It’ll have to be done at the last minute,’ Raffa suggested. ‘That way there is minimal chance of it being stuffed up.’
‘Agreed, though I don’t think Leandro will be a problem. My almost sixteen-year-old brother is definitely the weakest link, so I think I’ll leave him to the day before, or even the morning of.’
‘What about clothes? I want us to look nice. And we need to match. And our brothers need to look like they fit in as well.’
‘Okay. But won’t that look odd at the party? With us all dressed up like that?’
‘Whatever we decide on, we change into it at the very last minute.’
‘Good idea. But just not a suit. It needs to be nice, but casual,’ I suggested.
‘And not white . . . because . . . you know, we’re not . . .’
‘Not what? Pure and virginal?’ I asked, while laughing my head off.
‘Yeah, something like that.’
‘You going to church beforehand to say confession?’
‘No need. I think our priest gave up on me a long time ago,’ Raffa said with a chuckle.
‘I don’t think we have a family priest,’ I replied.
As we were finishing our coffees and were getting ready to leave an older, very well-dressed couple came up to our table and stopped. Easily in their seventies, I thought, the man was tall and straight and with a full head of silver hair, while his wife was shorter and a little on the plump side, but with a pleasant demeanour.
‘You’re the two boys who were out on the deck last night, aren’t you?’ the man enquired.
‘Yes, sir,’ I replied, looking up at him.
He thrust out his hand towards me. ‘That was a beautiful thing to see, young man. I thought most young people just shacked up these days or ran off and eloped or something.’
‘Thank you,’ I replied, as we shook. ‘We’re already shacked up, as you put it, but I thought it was time we made it official. At least these days we can do that.’
‘Just as it should be,’ he replied.
‘So, how long have you been together?’ his wife asked.
‘Just on five years,’ Raffa replied.
‘Well, we’re happy for you both. We hope you have a long and happy life together,’ the man said.
‘Thank you. We really appreciate that,’ I replied, then with a nod, they continued on their way to the counter, where they paid for their breakfast and then left.
‘How sweet was that?’ Raffa said, once they were gone.
When we made it to the counter just a few minutes later and I went to pull my wallet from my pocket, the girl behind the counter started waving her hands together, as if trying to stop me.
‘Your breakfast has been paid for, sir. The couple you were just talking to picked up the tab.’
‘Really? They’re staying here, right? We need to thank them.’
‘I believe, sir, that is them leaving in the blue Mercedes,’ she added, as she pointed out the window at a car that was just pulling out. ‘And on behalf of us here at Treetops, may I say congratulations.’
I was shocked. I don’t think anybody had ever done anything like that for me before, even in this age of paying it forward.
‘We thank you so very much,’ Raffa said in reply, quickly picking up on my state of surprise and rescuing me.
‘Yes, thank you,’ I eventually managed to say. The girl smiled at us as we left the restaurant, and I could see her still smiling after us when I glanced back in her direction as we were walking away.
Returning to our room we received a big surprise when we found a basket waiting on the step of the cabin, with a red bow and a card attached. It contained a bottle of champagne and some chocolates, with the card saying, ‘Congratulations! With the compliments of Treetops Resort.’
‘How sweet of them,’ Raffa said, as he held the gift items in his hands.
‘Yeah, it certainly is,’ I answered, even if in my head I was thinking that I would probably be paying for it one way or another.
‘Want to order in tonight and pick up where we left off?’
‘I swear, it’s like you can read my mind some days,’ I answered.
Once inside and the champagne was placed in the refrigerator to chill, we stripped off and lay down on the bed once again, and were shortly asleep, cradled in each other’s arms. There was no hanky-panky, as our grandparents would no doubt say, we were both still tired from the previous night’s exertions, so laying low for the afternoon seemed like a plan.
Later, in the cool of the afternoon, we decided we would go for a walk along the various paths through the adjacent forests and along the river that fed into, and out of, the lake, then order in for dinner, so we could resume last night’s activities, before we would have to leave in the morning.
A few hours later, almost right on queue, we were woken from our slumber by the ringing of Raffa’s phone. Reluctantly he reached out and picked it up.
‘Hey, mama,’ he said. He seemed to be listening intently to what she was saying, before being able to reply. ‘We just went for a drive out of town and will be home tomorrow . . . No, mama, everything is fine . . . Yes, I’ll tell him to phone them . . . It’s all good, really. Nothing for you to worry about . . . Okay, see you when we get home . . .’
When he disconnected, he looked at me and grinned.
‘Just checking up on us. Your folks didn’t know what we were doing, my folks didn’t know what we were doing . . . they were all worried.’
‘I’d best phone home and check in then,’ I said in reply.
‘That might be a good idea.’
Retrieving my phone I called my mother and let her know we were just away overnight and would be home tomorrow. Predictably I was scolded for not letting them know we were going somewhere, but that would all be forgotten by tomorrow. I promised we would call around for lunch, which seemed to pacify her.
Once we had that sorted it was time to take our stroll through the forest, so after we dressed once again, we headed out into the cool of the afternoon. It would be a little while yet before the sun would set, but it was getting low on the horizon, so the heat of the day had well passed and walking the paths in shorts and t-shirts proved to be a comfortable experience.
For a time we sat on a bench that was located along the edge of the lake and just watched the local birds and waterfowl on the lake. A pair of black swans had set up a nest not too far from the water’s edge and while one was sitting patiently on the nest, the other seemed to float gracefully on the dark water, barely raising a ripple as it cruised around.
It was totally relaxing being able to just sit and watch and breathe, without a care in the world. All that would be waiting for us upon our return; going back to work, the keeping of our secret, the planning of the big day that was ahead of us. Things were about to get hectic.
* * *
Our second night at the resort was pretty much a repeat of the first, apart from our ordering in dinner, which was delivered right on time, in a rugged and insulated trolley that appeared to be specifically made for this job.
With champagne to accompany our meal we made the most of it, before retiring early and picking up where we had left off the previous night. Our love making was gentle and steady at first, but as the night wore on so did out intensity, until finally, after achieving the ultimate three times each, we were spent.
After we were done, I retrieved a towel from the bathroom and cleaned us both up as best I could, not wanting to wake again with our bodies glued together with the spoils of victory, then once again we drifted off, content, spent, and totally happy.
Another late breakfast followed, but not before we had showered and packed our belongings into my car, in readiness for the trip home and the need to start our wedding planning in earnest . . . and in secret. This was certainly going to be a challenging few weeks ahead.
We arrived at my parents’ house a little after noon on the Sunday, just as mum was putting together some cold meats and salad for us all, including Robbie and Meaghan and little Dylan, four years old and running everywhere. Scooping him up into my arms I blew raspberries on his cheek, causing him to giggle before he threw his arms around me and kissed me on the cheek. I then threw him over to Raffa, who repeated the process. He loved his Uncle Gray and Uncle Raffie.
I then gave Meaghan a kiss on the cheek, as she helped with the salad, then finally, my mother.
‘So good of you to join us,’ mum said, once I had turned my attention to her. ‘And just where did the two of you disappear to?’
‘Just a drive in the country, ma,’ I answered. ‘We camped at Treetops for a couple of nights, before coming back today. No biggie.’
‘Well, it would have been nice to have known about it.’
‘Yeah, you could have asked me to come along,’ Olly added, pouting. ‘Why don’t you take me camping?’
‘Next time, buddy. I promise.’
‘You better!’ he sulked. For an almost sixteen-year-old he still behaved like a little kid sometimes, but I guess that’s what happens when you reach that age where you’re still part boy but not quite a man yet. I was fairly certain that I was a bit like that around the same age.
Dad and Robbie had been in the lounge room watching a sports show, but once called by mum they came into the kitchen and joined us. I hugged my father and shook Robbie’s hand, then we all sat down at the table.
‘So, did I hear you went up to Treetops?’ my father asked. ‘I haven’t been there since we took you up there as kids. I bet it has changed a bit since then though.’
‘It’s pretty fancy,’ Raffa offered. ‘Apart from the campsite there are cabins and motel rooms, a nice restaurant, a lake, bushwalking paths and a conference centre I think . . . though we didn’t get close to that.’
‘We should all go up there sometime, together,’ Meaghan suggested. ‘I think I can vaguely remember us going when we were kids.’
‘I can’t remember anything like that,’ I added.
‘No, you would have only been about the same age as Dylan,’ mum said.
‘Little wonder I can’t remember it then!’ I said, with a chuckle. I didn’t think it was a good idea for us to dwell too much on Treetops, just in case Raffa or I slipped up, so I decided I needed to steer the conversation elsewhere. ‘So, mum, have there been any replies to the party invites yet?’
‘A few. All our family will be there, but Raffa might want to chase up his family . . .’
‘I can do that. Mum said she will help you with whatever you need.’
‘That’s wonderful. I’ll give her a call. And I have some blank invites let over that you can take if you need them. Were there any others from your work to invite?’
‘Great. I’ll hand them out tomorrow. We’ve already done Hoppy and Nathan and Mrs Mack, but there might be a few more.’
‘Why is this starting to sound like a high school party?’ my father interjected.
‘Don’t you worry, dad. It’ll be way better than that,’ I answered.
‘Just so long as the neighbours don’t come at us over noise,’ he said.
‘It’ll be fine, dad. Trust us. It’s set for lunchtime and the afternoon, so we won’t be keeping them up late.’
‘They sound like famous last words! It’s your funeral if it all falls in a heap,’ my father responded, giving a laugh as he did so.
Our lunch proceeded without any incidents. Dylan was, as always, the centre of attention but Olly was asking questions about Treetops, so we ended up promising him that we would take him there.
‘Awesome! Thank you!’ he said, while leaning across the table for a high-five.
We got out of there about an hour later, thankfully without making any slip-ups that would give the game away, and we were soon home in our garage and crashing on the bed. Tomorrow would be another day and some serious planning would be needed to start things off, after we had discussed what we needed to do on our trip back.
Raffa needed to organise Leandro, while I would tackle Olly closer to the day.
I needed to arrange for us to meet with the celebrant so we can organise everything with her. Apparently, you can’t just get married and sign a form, everything had to be done in advance and fees needed to be paid. Thankfully I had started filling these out already. Raffa ragged me out once again for being so sure of myself.
We needed outfits, for both of us, as well as Olly and Leandro. Raffa was going to check out some websites for ideas and would see what we could find.
Then there was the idea of a honeymoon, though in the end we decided that as it was such short notice just asking for a few days off work would have to do for now, then we could plan something better for a later time.
Tomorrow it would all start in earnest.
* * *
Mrs Mack was in her office and alone when we took our morning break, so when we were ready to go back to work I took the opportunity to talk to her.
‘Hi, Grayson. What can I do for you?’ she asked when I knocked softly on her office door. ‘Come in.’
‘Thank you,’ I said. I had given her the invitation last week and told her about the party and why we were holding it – the anniversary of course – and she had been delighted we had thought to invite her, accepting the invitation straight away. ‘It’s just about this party. We were wondering if we could both manage a few days off straight after it please. We know that leave needs to be entered in advance, but we . . .’
She interrupted me by putting up her hand. ‘It’s not a problem,’ she said. ‘Rafael already has others he can designate to cover the office, and it’s no problem to have someone cover the loading dock for you, so consider it done.’
‘That’s fantastic. Thank you!’
‘How many days were you thinking? You can take the full week if you feel you need it, you both have sufficient leave . . . in fact, it’ll probably be a good idea to use some of it, so it doesn’t build up too much . . . you know how the company doesn’t like that. I’ll let Mr Chung know for you. I’m sure he won’t have any issues.’
Mr Chung was the new store manager, who had taken over from Mr Webster about a year ago.
‘If a week is okay, we will gladly take that. Thank you. We appreciate it,’ I said, then got up to leave.
‘I am so looking forward to your party.’
‘Thank you. So are we,’ I replied with a smile, then headed back towards the loading dock, where I just knew that work would be waiting for me.
TICK. That’s the first item off our list.
A couple of days later Leandro arrived at the house one afternoon after work. When he came down to the garage after talking to his parents up at the house, I gave Raffa an elbow in the ribs and said, ‘You’re up!’
‘What the fuck are you two homos on about?’ Leandro demanded.
‘I have a favour to ask,’ Raffa replied, looking and sounding more than just a little nervous.
I got to my feet and placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘You’ve got this,’ I said to him, earning another odd look from Leandro, then I left them and went outside.
It was about ten minutes later when Leandro finally emerged. His eyes were red and I could tell that he’d been crying. He stopped right in front of me and looked me in the eye.
‘Man, you must have some set of balls if you reckon you can pull this off,’ he said to me, before wrapping me up in a bear hug that I thought was never going to end.
When he stepped back we could both see Raffa was standing at the garage door, leaning against the door frame with his arms folded in front of him, just grinning at us.
‘So I take it you said yes?’ I asked.
‘Of course I did, asshole!’ he said, managing a laugh as he did so. ‘What else am I going to say?’
This time it was my turn to hug him. ‘Thank you,’ I said, while stifling a sob of my own. ‘It means the world to us both.’
‘And have you asked your brother yet?’
‘No, that’ll be a last-minute job, I think. I don’t trust him to be able to keep his mouth shut for long enough.’
‘Good thinking!’
TICK. That’s two items off the list.
The following day I made a call to the marriage celebrant, whose name was Rose Pearson, and asked if Raffa and I could meet her after work to go over preparations. She readily agreed, and about half an hour after leaving the store we pulled up at her home on the edge of town.
Based on the overgrown garden in front of her house, with wind chimes and crystals and other paraphernalia hanging around the yard, along with a rainbow flag I could see hanging on the inside of her front window, I hadn’t been sure what to expect. I figured she was probably one of those way-out hippy-chicks, though not having met her as yet I was only guessing.
‘Have we got the right place?’ Raffa said quietly as we walked into the yard.
‘I reckon so.’
Before we had even made it to the front verandah the front door opened and out she stepped, a woman who appeared to be in her thirties, dressed in a smart white business suit. Not at all what I imagined she might be like.
‘You must be Grayson and Rafael?’ she asked as we were stopped in our tracks.
‘Yes, that’s us,’ I answered. ‘I’m Grayson,’ I added, stepping forward and offering my hand, only to be pulled straight into a hug, before she transferred that to Raffa.
‘Thank you so much for coming to me for this special occasion,’ she said to us. ‘You both have such vibrant auras. You are made for each other.’
Raffa and I looked at each other. I could see his eyebrows raised a little, as if wondering what the hell I had gotten us mixed up with.
‘I’m sorry, I hope that doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable,’ she said to Raffa, after noticing his reaction. ‘I just can’t help myself sometimes . . . I have to say it as I see it.’
‘That’s fine,’ Raffa replied.
‘So, you two are getting married? Congratulations! Thank you for coming to me. Now, how about we go over the details, complete the paperwork, and figure out exactly how everything will play out. From what you’ve already told me, Grayson, this will come as a surprise for everyone . . .’
‘That’s going to be an understatement,’ Raffa replied.
Rose just smiled and pointed us to some chairs on the front verandah of her home.
It was about half an hour later when we left her, with all the plans in place. The invitations we sent out asked for people to arrive around eleven that morning, with a barbeque lunch being planned, then partying on for as long as we needed to. Rose would arrive around noon, before the party got into full swing and the barbeque was fired up, that way we could get the formalities out of the way, then enjoy the rest of the day. It just meant that we would need to have everything ready by then, including roping in my brother for his part.
All too easy!
TICK. That’s three items off the list.
That night when we were in bed, both of us relaxing and just browsing on our phones, Raffa shoved his screen in front of me and said, ‘What do you think of this?’
The screen showed a gallery from a clothing distributor, with a variety of coloured shirts being modelled. Quite a few of them looked pretty crappy, to be honest, but as we scrolled through some of the pages, I noticed there were some plainer styles in bright colours that I liked the look of.
‘What about that one?’ I said, when we had stopped on a nice turquoise coloured shirt.
‘Not bad,’ he said, before thumbing onto the next page, which showed the same shirt but in a bright-pink colour.
‘Stop! That one!’ I said.
‘Really?’
‘It’s bright and festive. I don’t want our wedding to be boring,’ I replied.
‘Okay then. So, what do we wear with it? And what about the other two?’
‘What are you thinking? You’ve got to have a say as well.’
‘Let me think . . .’ he said, then started a new search on his phone. ‘What do you think of this,’ he asked, showing me some pictures of some guys wearing smart-looking vests.
‘Nice. Something kind of classy we can wear over the shirts.’
‘How about the bros in jeans and the pink shirts, us in the same, but we wear a vest or something like this . . . and maybe a bow tie.’
‘A bow tie? Seriously?’ I exclaimed.
‘You said something classy,’ he said with a laugh.
‘Okay. I guess I can live with that. Now, what colour vest and tie?’
After a bit of thought he said, ‘How about black jeans and tie, pink shirts, light-grey vests, like this one . . . I think those colours all go together okay.’
‘Geez, aren’t you a regular little fashionista? I love it.’
‘Now all we’ve got to do is track everything down. Hopefully there’ll be something like that here in town already. I’ll start looking tomorrow.’
Putting my phone aside I cuddled up to him.
‘Now that we’ve got that sorted . . .’ I said.
‘Hombre puta,’ he replied, as he leaned in and kissed me.
TICK. That makes four items.
This all seemed to be coming together too easily. No doubt there was something else we needed to do, but what was it?
To be continued . . .
Authors Note:
Hi there. It has been a while since I have posted anything new on Nifty. I guess life gets in the way sometimes.
I hope you enjoy this new story. Please be sure to donate to Nifty.org at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
Your support of Nifty is what helps ensure that stories like this are available for people like you to enjoy! :)
Oh, hey, you might also like to check out my websites, where all my fiction, real life stories, reviews, books
and other stuff are available. Please visit:
Ponyboysplace - the home page for Mark Peters
Mark 'Ponyboy' Peters | Facebook
Email: mp_ponyboy@hotmail.com