The story below is a work of fiction, set in the format of reality. Any resemblances to real people, alive or dead in the hereafter, is entirely coincidental in nature. It is not meant to accurately reflect upon persons, of continents or islands, in countries, counties, cities, towns, villages, neighborhoods, gingerbread houses, streets, cul-de-sacs, nor governmental or non-governmental areas, which the story is staged. If a sexual scene involving male-to-male relationships offends you, then you get coal in your stocking! Seriously, if guy-to-guy sex stuff makes you barf or is going to screw up your mind, you should not read this story, unless you're a masochist and have a holiday barf bag handy.
Viewer discretion is advised. Various states, countries and the North Pole have rules regarding reading or viewing adult material'. It is up to the reader to research this subject, abiding by their own laws. The pages of this story contain adult material', intended for an `adult audience'. Bypass this warning at your own risk.
% Sexual safety matters. Remember guys, this is fiction. In real life, use protection*.
*Condoms make good stocking stuffers!
Hey dudes, if you have enjoyed reading NiFTy stories as much as I have, over the years, consider adding some support for `internet $pace'. http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html
^o^ Concluding remarks ~ reading this story could make you stiff or gooey, so I would suggest not reading it with the Santa outfit on, unless you have enough hair to soak it up... jus'-sayin'! :)
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Up oN THe WoOfToP... 05 WriTten by T. Chase McPhee
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Both Michael and Kevyn had called it all wrong, upon leaving the music store, fooled over the fact they thought Sander was having a great time.
Upon deciding they weren't getting turned on by what was happening on almost the underbelly of the grand piano, it was Michael who decided, "Okay, well, we'll see you later."
"Yeah," Kevyn helps with the goodbye, "have a good jerkoff!"
"Hold on there," Sander suddenly says, grabbing his pants, shirt, briefs, socks and shoes, in that order.
Of course, they knew the first thing to go undercover, were Sander's stiff cock and hefty balls, which they tried not to stare, but...
"It was nice while it lasted, but when your friend showed up, I had a feeling the writing was on the wall."
Michael replies, "Not really my friend. Well yeah, I suppose he is, getting me out of playing the cadenza for my jury, but I'm really trying to keep the professional separate from the personal."
Sander had to laugh, "Well, for a college prof, he sure is an animal!"
Neither one or the other two could disagree, Professor Kestwick, rushing right into the intense sexual activity, immediately sensing it when he walked in the door, like a hound hunting for the kill, Michael being the one to notice the most, "I can't believe what an oral pig he is!"
"You don't know the half of it," Sander laughs. "Remember, I was one of the ones under the piano. Trust me, Nick was in pain, the prof trying to fit both balls in his mouth at once. When he went for mine, well that's when I suddenly lost interest. A nice, slow tongue massage is okay, but I'm not into ball torture!"
Kevyn, hearing Sander mention it, "You know the difference?"
After pulling briefs, pants on, Sander sat and fed his feet into each sock, then sneakers. Standing, he grabbed his shirt, "I know the difference, okay?"
Kevyn looked to Michael, who looked back at Kevyn. Surely, both had their opinions, but just shrugged shoulders!
For less than a minute, Sander handled his shirt. First he thought it inside out, but one of the sleeves was snagged. Grabbing it, Kevyn says, "Here, allow me!"
Joking around, Michael and Kevyn finished dressing Sander. Kevyn found the hole for the collar, placing it over Sander's head, Michael at his back, pulling it down. The whole time Kevyn worked Sander's shirt down the front, the descent was slow and casual, both staring in each other's eyes.
"Good thing no one is in a hurry?" Michael says, having missed on the handling of Sander's shirt around front. Though, he did get his digs in, sticking a finger down Sander's crack!
"Hey!" Sander calls out, almost jumping into Kevyn's arms!
"Woof!" Kevyn responds to Sander's chest ramming right into him, almost like two psyched up soccer players.
Turning right around to face Michael, Sander is not really pissed off, "Sneaky, dude!"
If Michael could get away with it, why not keep up the torment, Kevyn doing the same.
"Hey!" Sander does a jump, landing with toes facing Kevyn.
"Very strange," Kevyn catches Sander off guard.
"What is?"
"Unlike Michael and me, you're like all smooth, dude, except yer ass-crack?!"
Thinking it the funniest thing in the world, Kevyn cracks up laughing. Getting it, Michael having had his finger in the hairy folds, does the same.
Shaking his head as he puts his hoodie on, Sander says, "You two guys are sick," but then amends, "cute, but sick!"
It was a shame, Michael having to interrupt Nick, on his knees, doggie style, with Kestwick at the rear, feasting on the music store owner's hairy crevice, "Uh, Nick, you want me to leave your trombone in the back?"
Apparently, with their own shenanigans, they missed something, Nick informing them, "Uh, no. Your professor, he's taking me out tonight. I never leave it in the store. Do you think you can take it with you and bring it back tomorrow?"
Kevyn, having spent several hours napping on the piano bench, perturbed over Nick's mistrust, asks, "And I don't have to spend the night in the store with my credit card?"
Eyeing Kevyn up and down, the 36-year old music professor says, "Now there's a thought!"
"Forget it," Nick casually slaps Simon on the chops, "you're not getting out of taking me out tonight. I told you, it's Christmas party-time down at the club and I haven't missed one yet!"
Leaving the store, Michael took some security prevention measures, walking between Sander and Kevyn, hugging the trombone case to his chest, like he did with Gary last night!
Unknown to Michael, nor Kevyn, Gary and Dean have spent all afternoon together. Discussing business, first finding rental space for Sander's art exhibit, Gary thought it important Dean come along.
Twofold, not only did Gary find out about Dean, but also Michael, personally and things they did together last summer.
Discussing Michael and his birthday coming up on December 24th, Kevin's on the 27th, the two, over sips of coffee, started the wheels turning, coming up with bigger, broader plans, talking about a house party, broadening to renting out a club!
From there, Dean thinking Michael didn't know enough people to fill up more than a table, they whittled their plans down to, "How about a table, then?"
Dean thought it more realistic, but also, "And the money we save, we can apply towards a gift."
"Brilliant!" Gary liked the plan.
"Only problem, what do you think Kevyn would like, in the way of a gift?"
Probably more of a trick question than Michael, Gary says, "How about something money can't buy?"
"That would be me!" Dean smiles.
"I was thinking more, a trip to Tahiti?"
"Why?" Dean frowns on the trip, "You don't think Kevyn would appreciate me more, than a beach full of bellyhole boys?"
"Of what?"
In searching for art space, Gary had intended on Manhattan, but his sources led them to a beautiful area of Brooklyn. From the outside, it looked like a block of brownstones, but inside, several floors gave way to open warehouse space. Wooden floors, painted support posts and large glass windows appealed to them.
A friend of a friend of a friend of Joe, his secretary, Gary had made several calls that afternoon, before being hooked up with a `Trevor Adesque'. Normally, Trevor's father would handle rentals, but being Trevor owned the art studio complex, the son would be meeting them.
At first, Trevor, when he met them at the facility in Brooklyn, had stated he didn't have much time.
However, warming up to each other, after looking one of the floors of the complex over, Gary mentioning they could probably look over the other floors at another time, the 26-year old landlord looks at his watch, saying, "Um, I really have another hour to spare?"
So it went, Trevor leading them down to the bottom floor, right above the basement, offering them a cup of coffee.
Dean, for one, wondered what it was which made Trevor suddenly clear his afternoon schedule, asking, "If you have appointments, showing someone else some properties, we can make an appointment another time?"
Although, Gary suddenly gave Dean the `evil eye', wanting to cinch a deal today!
"Matter of fact," Trevor says, stirring some cream into his coffee, "this is the only property I manage."
One word, `oh?', from Gary's lips had Trevor telling almost his whole history.
Originally, he started out interested in art, but switched to fashion, costuming, after seeing an opera at the Met, which he had to confess, only because he sensed Gary and Dean a couple', "My lover, when he heard I had never seen an opera, picked up his cell, made a call and got us tickets that very evening to see Verdi's Aida'."
A total opera buff, but not up on Aida, Gary says, "I love ancient Egyptian history!"
Smiling, Trevor says, "Well, it was because of that performance I decided I wanted to design costumes. Whether for the theater or not, that would be determined. Things didn't pan out as I had intended, but right now I am enjoying my trade of repairing costumes and..." he walks around, throwing eyes to the ceiling, walls, floor, "managing the rental of `Artique Adesque'."
Having seen the sign on the way in, Dean asks, because the name of the art studios contain Trevor's surname, "Other than costumes, do you do some art?"
Gary would have put it differently, but cut Dean some slack, not wanting to criticize, nor make it look like he had an inflated ego!
"I've tried," Trevor smiles, "but I leave it to those who have the gift for it!"
Liking both the building, art space and the man who was leasing it, Gary asks, "Now, how about the rental fee?"
Dean was a little squeamish on this, but than again, he was being hired to assemble a cafe, leaving the rental part up to Gary.
"If you are a first time renter, I charge double the rental for one month, $1500."
Trevor knew this was always the thing which would weigh heavy on a person's mind, but then it also served purpose, weeding out the serious from the frivolous.
"Okay," is all Gary said, walking off on his own, resurveying the space, even though different from the top floor. Coming back, looking like Beethoven, hands clasped behind his back, in deep deliberation, "How about we forgo the one month security and I cut you a check for 6 months rental. I won't have my people enter the building until the check clears?"
Doing the math real quick, Dean replies, "S-six months?"
Walking over to Gary, shaking his hand, Trevor says, "That sounds more than reasonable."
"Of course, I will needing 2 floors, one for a cafe, with tables, linens, something elegant of sorts?"
It was Trevor's turn to stutter, but with 18-grand coming in, all at once, "You've got it, Mr. Wynston!"
It made him smile, Trevor shaking Gary's hand with such fervor, "That's some grip there!"
"Sorry," Trevor stops, turns Gary's hand over, "I hope I didn't sprain anything?"
Getting back to the Met and repairing a few costumes, Trevor decided it was worth giving up his evening time. It would be late thought, offering to take his clients to dinner.
Instead of eating out, Gary says, "Why not come to my place tonight and share some supper with my boyfriend and I?"
Dean jokes, "Are we invited?"
"Of course," Gary replies. Having heard Trevor make the slip before, proud he was in a relationship with a man or just plain forgetfulness, he extends, "And you're welcome to bring a date with you, Trevor."
From Dean's response, Trevor decides he's made an error, Dean saying `we', but wondered about what he thought was Dean's other half, "Will Mrs. Wynston be preparing the meal?"
Gary laughs his ass off, "First off, my business friends call me Gary' and secondly, there is no Mrs.' Wynston. But there is a Michael!"
It's then Dean spills the history, "Michael was my friend, before Gary stole him away from me."
Like a comedy act, Gary accuses, "Oh, but I gave you my nephew in exchange?"
A little sadder than the jokesters, Trevor says, "I used to have a partner, but he passed away."
"Oh, I'm so, so sorry," Gary walks over, takes Trevor's hand in both his.
Little less formally, Dean says, "Me too."
However, it's all settled, Trevor will be over around 7, offering to bring dessert.
In the matter of an hour and a half, stop'n'go through primetime traffic, Gary and Dean's limo taxis up to the curb.
"Looks like we've got company!" Dean says, pulling on the sleeve of Gary's trench coat.
Turning around, they see Kevyn, Michael and Sander exit another taxi.
"What's up guys?" Michael asks, a special message for his friend, "You behave yourself today, Dean?"
"Never mind me. How was your test?"
"At music school they call it a `jury', imbecile!"
Kevyn had to laugh, Dean telling him, "You'll get yours later!"
Walking inside, Gary tells them of their dinner guest, but nothing to Sander regarding the art viewing space.
Michael is the one to volunteer, "Oh, well we were passing by the front of The Mozambique hotel and to make a long story short, I invited this guy, Renzo, for dinner."
Michael had more to tell, but kept it short, for now!
Never one to put down, Gary says, "The more the merrier!"
"Thanks for not getting mad," Michael says.
Dean makes light of it, "He should be livid."
Walking with Gary, Michael holds his middle finger high in the air, so at least Dean could see it!
Placing a hand on Dean's shoulder, Kevyn confides, "I guess all that tutoring paid off!"
Dean keeps on walking, brushing Kevyn's hand off his shoulder as if a roach!
No way Gary was going to pull a dinner of this magnitude together this evening, even with 2 hours prep time. It would take at least a half hour to thumb through his cook book collection. Snapping his fingers, he picks up his little black book. It came in handy in his 20's and early 30's, but when he hit 40, most of those he met up with on occasional `date', had either married, moved or changed phone numbers without notice, except two or three.
Phoning Armando, who worked at his father's restaurant, going back to Gary's early 30's, Armando was a 22-year old delivery boy. Fourteen years later, Armando ran the family restaurant! Partially, the money to remodel came from one resource, Gary. An investment, Gary always termed, the good sex Armando could render, as payback, meeting up whenever either needed the `relaxation'.
Tonight, Gary was ordering up food for an army, but also told Armando there was no hurry, if he wanted to wait around and `party!'
Not only did Armando show up, but he couldn't handle the whole delivery himself, having his partner, Tajiri, help out. Too, the pair had plans tonight, talking Tajiri into a nice evening out', which, since they were in an open relationship, there would be other guys on the MENu'!
It was the first time Gary had met Tajiri and when he got Armando alone, he had plenty to say about the African, first priority, "How big? Top or bottom?"
About ready to bestow the information on Gary, the phone rings. He could have had any number of guys go, but Michael was in the shower, Sander waiting, unless both agreed to shower together, which made him smile and since it was his place, he felt obligated not to send Dean, nor any of the others, "I'll be right back," Gary tells Armando, "hold that thought!"
Armando didn't really need to `hold that thought', being able to get it any ole time!
Next to the door, Gary picked up the security phone, talking to the desk-guard, "Are you sure he has the right place?"
Listening, like a code, Gary says, "Hold on."
Eric, door guard for the condo tower, had mentioned a key word, `Sander', which had Gary heading off to the shower.
Much as he would have liked to have imagined, Sander and Michael showering together, there was Sander, dressed in just a towel around the waist, Gary asking, same time sending a message, "Did you happen to tell a guy I could provide room and board for him?"
"Oh," Sander says, smiling, "uh, I guess I forgot to ask you. Can he? He like, has no other place to go."
Cracking the door open, Michael barks at the landlord, "Uh, don't you like, keep towels in the bath room?" Before Gary could answer, Michael `sees one', "Oh good!"
Before Sander could figure out what was going on, the towel around his waist was `gone!'
"Oh shit!" he cups his cock and balls, needing two hands. Then, before Gary can get the edge on him, "You don't have any towels in there?"
"I suppose I forgot to refresh the stock after this morning. Um, about the guy down at the door? Eric says he's got a suitcase, backpack and one of those big," Gary shows with his hands, "garbage bags full of stuff and..."
"Well, this is how it went," Sander says, still clutching, "when we were walking home from Michael's um," he can't remember the tech term, "playing the trombone, we happened to be walking in front of The Mozambique Hotel..."
Of course, Gary was concerned with Sander, offering up a bed without asking, but willing to forgive, given the opportunity to `graze'. Hearing him, Michael and Kevyn had saved a guy's ass, almost kicked down three stairs, by his own brother, because he wasn't moving fast enough, "That's despicable!"
"I know and I tell you," Sander removes his right hand, places is over his heart, which made one sac break loose, "I felt so bad for the dude, it moved me and..."
"You're still here?" Michael comes out, towel around the waist, hair wet, which looked sexy!
"I'm up next for the shower, remember?"
Unconcerned right now, who had a towel and who didn't, Gary badgers Sander, "What about the guy downstairs?"
Closing the door behind him, Gary can hear, "Michael will finish telling you."
"Tell what?" Michael asks.
Repeating himself, Gary tells, "Eric tells me there's a guy downstairs, with suitcase, backpack and a big, giant garbage bag full of stuff and..."
"Oh, that's gotta be Renzo."
One thing Michael learned from Dean, if you wanted to get a point across and have it end up in your favor, you had to lay it on thick...
"You should have seen it, Gary. Pitiful, how Renzo's own flesh-and-blood treated him, literally kicking him in the ass, which made him lose his balance on the stairs. Not only that, wouldn't you feel totally embarrassed to death, if the suitcase you were carrying opened up, showing all of New York City your underwear and sex toys?"
There weren't any sex toys. Michael made it up, just to make it sound worse!
"What kind of sex toys?" Gary was inquisitive.
Not that he could think beyond a double-headed dildo, Michael says, "Does it matter? What does matter is, Sander, what a Samaritan. Stands right up to Renzo's brother and then helps pick up the briefs and tees."
"And sex toys?"
"Yeah, that too. However," Michael pauses, "Renzo's brother took it personally and fired his brother. Sickening, isn't it?"
"Touching story, but it doesn't tell me why he's on my doorstep?"
Making it, like the most logical explanation, which anyone could figure out, "Like, anyone who works at The Mozambique, has a room there. Now Renzo's out of a room." Rather than put all the blame on Sander, which it was `his' idea, Michael says, "So, we thought it would be cool if you put him up, until he can find another job and get back on his feet. By the way, what did you order for dinner?"
Somehow, in Gary's mind, it seemed like he was getting railroaded, but knew Michael, at least, would not scam him, "Well, I guess I better go let him in."
Opening the door, drenched in shower water, Sander, whom jumped in the shower, jumped out, listened at the back of the door, says, "If you want, I could go let him in?"
Smirking, Gary says, "Sure. Dripping wet!"
"Gimme my towel!" Sander says, sticking his hand, like in Michael's crack, pulling it from around his waist.
Gary would love to have stayed around for the tug o'war, but Eric was waiting for him!
It bought him some time, walking down the stairs, instead of the elevator, something Gary did for exercise, at least on the downhill climb. He didn't really get to voice his opinion, of how they just could not go and tell a guy he could room at his place, when they were roomers themselves. Especially, it would have been courtesy to ask. No, he was going to set an example.
Reaching the lobby, he fell off his high horse, upon seeing Eric, cleaning off the boy's face, "What happened, Eric?"
Eric, a muscle-gym guy in his late twenties, who's been working out since high school and once was on the football team, now a part time personal trainer, student and doorman, stands from bending over, "I have it on my mind, soon as I get off, to go over to The Mozambique and work the son-of-a-bitch over, who did this!"
Come to find out, when Renzo went in to grab his stuff, pack up and leave, Nico was there, his only purpose, to antagonize. Knowing Renzo was more a woos than a fighter, Nico waited until his brother threw the first punch. Missing, Nico took it as his cue, catching Renzo in the stomach with his fist.
Recalling the whole story to Eric, Renzo said he said, when Nico told him to get up, `Why? So you can put me down again?'
Well, there was nothing for Renzo to do, if he planned on leaving. Nico wasn't going anyplace. Slapping him across the face, telling Renzo if it wasn't for him, his brother, he would have never survived `New York' and then some other bullying remarks. It ended with Renzo taking another two gut-punches, but then he did the smart thing, acted dead!
"I have it in mind to call you a taxi and pay the fare, Eric, but you know as well as I, guys like his brother won't learn anything from revenge," Gary says, looking the beaten lad over, totally backing down now on his original plan.
Like a superhero changing back, Eric drops his fist, pocketed in the other hand, "I know." Instead of giving Gary a chance, Eric jumps for it, "Listen, I know you have some guys staying with you upstairs. If you don't have room, I'd be willing to put Renzo up?"
Renzo still dabbing his lip with the tissue Eric gave him, Gary says, "It's up to Renzo, whatever he wants to do."
Not really sure, Gary didn't take the time to find out, if Sander went to Renzo's rescue, did it mean he wanted to start up something between the two, or was he just being a hero on the street?
"Um," Renzo wasn't sure.
Before Gary arrived on the scene though, Eric was being a real sweetheart, reason enough for Renzo to make a choice, though hesitated, because it was Sander whom got him off the hook with his brother. Not sorry, Renzo was glad it was over between him and his brother, relieved, and looked forward to z better `rest of his life'.
Put back on Gary, the two looked at him. Not sure himself, he says, "Why doesn't Renzo come upstairs now and when you get off from work, Eric, you can come up, get a bite to eat, hang out and give him time to think what he wants to do."
Agreeable to both, Renzo goes with Gary, Eric telling him to leave his stuff behind the desk.
When Renzo leaves, Eric takes a long exhale, thinking what a hot man he's played nurse to. Not all of his time was spent blotting Renzo's lip. At least three times he wanted to `go for it', but it wasn't the place, nor the time. Sitting back in his chair, looking at an empty monitor, Eric thought how nice it would be to set up house, for two!
After drying off and changing into something decent, jeans and tee shirt, but no socks nor shoes, Michael heads for the kitchen, finding, "Dean!"
"What?" he says, after almost jumping out of his jeans!
"Whatcha doin'?" he looks over Dean's shoulder, purposely pressing his cock up against his friend's ass!
"Get away you pervert!"
"Is that any way to speak to your best student?"
Upon hearing it, not the first time, it's always drawn a melancholy feeling, "Sorry... perverted one!"
"I oughta pull your pants down and beat you with my cock!"
"Promises, promises," Dean replies, placing some food on a platter.
"Hey, this afternoon..."
"What about it?"
"You and Gary went to find a gallery, um, did you happen to speak about the most important day of the year coming up?"
"Christmas? Not really," Dean replies.
"No-o-o-o, not Christmas. My birthday, moron!"
"Oh, that," Dean acts like he knows nothing of it.
"Well, in case you do decide you want to throw me a party, don't forget about mom."
Turning around, leaning on the counter in a relaxed incline, Dean says, "Do you really think `mom' will feel comfortable in a house full of gay boys?"
"I'm not talking about here. What I'm trying to say is, I want to have my birthday party at home," Michael says, detailing it.
"Oh. Sure. I suppose we can tear ourselves away."
"Good," Michael says, picking up a string bean, chomping on it, "I'm glad we can see eye to eye on this."
Holding something up, high in the air, Dean yells, "Mistletoe!"
Walking away, Michael says, "Cheap trick."
Gasping, Dean argues, "It's only a kiss. It's not like I'm asking you to drop your pants, Michael!"
"I know," Michael walks up to Dean and like he's going to rape him, grabs his shirt, placing a kiss on his lips, asking, "I hope you like string beans?"
"You didn't!" Dean says, searching his gums.
"April fools!"
Dean scratches his nose with his middle finger!
Matter of fact, it did come up, Michael's birthday, every year coinciding with Christmas Eve, which Gary thought it would be a delightful effort to put something together.
"Oh goody, you've got almost everything out on plates," Gary awards Dean for his efforts.
"Gary, we've got to talk," Dean says.
Renzo, Gary had left him in Sanders care, asking, "What's so important that we can't eat right now?"
"Michael."
"Oh," Gary chuckles, "of course!"
After Dean mentions the one reason to have the party near home, `mother', Gary says, "Is that all? Well, I'll just have my secretary put in a reservation at the Radisson and reserve say, 10 rooms."
"Wouldn't you want to know who all is involved, before spending that kind of money?"
"Do you know how many days it is before Christmas?"
Dean knows, like everyone else, he's started the countdown, "How do you even know there are 10 rooms available?"
Waltzing up to Dean, smile on his face, Gary says, "Dean, my dear, not which I use it all the time to throw my weight around..."
"Yeah, and you've got plenty of it!"
"I'll take that as a compliment," Gary holds up a bicep, flexes it, bunching up his shirt, "but in case you haven't heard, money talks!"
"Hmm, well I don't think Michael would want a big hoop-ti-doo for his birthday and secondly, I'm perfectly content with staying in my own home. You know I live right next door to Michael?"
"No, really?" Gary's only heard it a million times thus far!
"Shut up. Just make your plans, but Kevyn and me, we'll stay at my place."
Getting on it, right after he left the kitchen, Gary phoned his secretary, Joe, who happened to be preoccupied at the moment, though knew when Gary called, no excuse could be had for not picking up. After having the details explained, Joe said he would get right on it. Of course, the dude he had in bed didn't understand, got up, got dressed and got himself out of there, much to Joe's dismay, since he was having quite the hot time!
Coming out into the living room, Renzo was there with the others, Kevyn, Sander and Michael, chatting and having a good ole boys time, playing some music, which surprised him, "You like opera?"
Kevyn's the first to speak up, "Don't you have any Madonna?"
"You're hopeless!" is all Gary throws at him. "How about you Renzo?"
Not committing himself, Renzo replies, "I like Madonna."
"No, I meant La Traviata?"
Not wanting to slight the man who may very well wind up his landlord, "Yeah, it's good."
Gary thought right off, probably Renzo doesn't even know what it's about. Then again, did any of them?
"That does it. For Christmas I'm giving each one of you a subscription to the Met and you will attend every performance!"
Michael asks, "Does that include the popcorn?"
Knowing he was getting mocked, Gary says, "Forget the popcorn. You better get in the kitchen before Dean eats up everything I've ordered!"
"Oh shit!" Michael calls out, running for the hallway, trailed by Sander and Kevyn.
"Not interested in eating?" Gary asks Renzo, lagging behind.
"I am, but I just wanted to thank you for helping me out. Other than my brother, I really don't know anyone else."
Like bosom buddies, Gary hugs Renzo in one arm, escorting him from the room, "Stick with me and you'll have nothing to worry about!"
Middle of the hallway, Renzo enlightens, "I kind of like Eric."
"Well that's fine. Eat, drink and be merry and when Eric comes up later you two can talk!"
Then his cell rang, which Gary then told Renzo to go on ahead. It was like Dean had read someone's mind, Joe calling him back to say there were no rooms available, but if there were cancellations, he would book them.
For now, Gary said to hold off.
In the kitchen, the place abuzz with how great the Italian food looks, Gary leans into Dean's ear, "My secretary says there's no rooms at the inn. Looks like we'll be having a pajama party at your place!"
Just then, Armando and Tajiri walk in, bringing the balance of the order, "I hope you left some lasagna for me!"
Michael says, "Kevyn, put your lasagna back, Taj scares the hell outta me!"
"What about you?" Kevyn looks at the heap on Michael's plate!
"Fine. We'll both put some back."
In doing so, naturally Tajiri, standing over everyone else, like his head could touch a basketball net, "Hey, what are you doing over there?" he gazes at Michael and Kevyn.
"Nothing!" Kevyn acts scared!
Michael kept his cool, "Putting some back so there's enough for you, dipstick!"
Swinging his hand, which Dean looked around to see where the breeze was coming from, Tajiri says, "Oh, you take it. I'll find something else to munch on!"
"You sure, Taj?" Michael asks.
"Taj?" Tajiri questions the nickname pinned on him, "I maybe like that. Armando?"
"What?" he calls back, taking a gulp of red wine, or else choke!
"Do you like my name, Taj?"
"Whatever suits you, babe!"
About ready for a breadstick, mouth open, Gary hears the phone buzz. Eric was calling up to say some friends of Michael were asking to come up.
"Michael?!" Gary calls out.
"What?" Michael shows at the end of the hallway.
"You've got pasta sauce on your lips."
"You called me away from a hot man for pasta sauce on my face?" he feels for it.
"Think about it, do you think I knew," acting like a teen, Gary utters, "dah?"
"Oh. So what's up?"
"Phone for you."
"Me?" Michael goes for the phone, handing Gary his plate.
For the first half-minute, Eric talked casual, then alerted Michael to two guys, Nick, "And a Professor Kestwick?"
"Oh yeah," Michael signified knowing, "send them up!"
After doing so, reporting back to the kitchen, he hoped there was enough food.
"My fault," Dean says, handing Michael a plate of lasagna.
"What?" Michael looks at the plate.
"I didn't know there was a whole tray of lasagna in the oven."
Michael responds, "That's cool. Did you tell Taj?"
Rather than answer in the way Michael wanted to hear, Dean tells him, "Hot man, huh?"
Like Dean always mentioned to Michael, about a hot stranger, he gets it back in the face, "I'd do'm!"
"Kids!" Dean exclaims.
"Yeah," Gary agrees, "tell me about it!"
Having seen the macho-ego side of Taj, Michael rushes into the living room. Seeing the tall, African man hovering over Renzo, like taking him under his wing, which for the basketball-sized man, was quite the stretch over the back of the sofa, witnesses the tender side, "Are you getting enough to eat, honey?"
One of the few times, since Renzo set foot into the condo-apartment, has seen the brotherly-abused 19-year old smile. It just made Michael feel good and then, his news, about more lasagna, didn't seem so important, rather a sarcastic little, "Oh, isn't that sweet?"
"Yeah, isn't it?" Kevyn says, sitting on the sofa, chomping down, while watching one of the young von Trapp family boys, getting sweet on his girlfriend.
"No, you idiot," Michael pounces Kevyn on top of his spiky haircut, slightly un-spiked as a result of the lack of gel, "I meant..." with attitude, changes his mind, "never mind!"
Then, like mocking, rather than being the informant, he taps Taj on the shoulder, "Hey, there's more lasagna, if you can tear yourself away."
Reporting back to the kitchen, where he had left Gary and Dean, Michael is filled with mixed reaction, catching the two, one of them with his shirt open, hugging, lip to lip. If either were a stranger to him, instead of boyfriend to boyfriend, he might have been ready to bop either one on the head, or maybe lower!
Instead, Michael jokes, "Cheating on me already, Gary?"
What appeared to be something, really wasn't, Dean throwing his arm up in the air, "Mistletoe!"
Though, there could be no mistake, about Gary, hands holding each side of Dean's shirt open, down to where a button kept his navel from being viewed, Michael has plenty to say about it, "What about the open shirt, Gary?"
"Oh, that! It must've popped open!" Gary hastily begins fastening each button.
"I can do it," Dean swats Gary's fidgety fingers away.
"That's okay," Michael says, reaching for the spade used to dish out the lasagna, "when I leave you two can go about your business."
"What?" Gary is now on the defensive, "You're kidding?"
"No," Michael stares at Dean, "go and have your fun, but remember, when the ring is on the finger, your life of playing around is over!"
Gary says to Dean, "You teach him that?"
"No," Dean says innocently, "I don't know where he got that from!"
In Gary's face, passing by, Michael says, "Dean didn't need to teach me everything!"
Jumping close to Gary, Michael steals a peck off his lips, then continues out to the other room.
Dean says to Gary, "Well, Michael certainly took that well."
Rekindling efforts, of not being able to hold his feelings back and whether the mistletoe started it, or the tingling in his balls, Gary's hands go back to work, "Now, where were we?"
"Uh," Dean backs off, whereas the stove doesn't give much leeway, "maybe this is not a good idea."
"I don't know if you've thought about this, but I have, about Kevyn and Michael?"
"What about them?" Dean looks down, even though he could feel Gary's hands brushing his soft, brown fur.
"Like us. We are all aging at the same rate, but you and I, someday they are going to outlive us, right?"
"Uh... yeah," Dean was following, being coaxed along.
"So," Gary gives a tug of Dean's unbuttoned shirt, from stuffed into his pants, "maybe we should both think about opening up our relationships, but on a limited basis?"
"Oh. So that's what you mean?" Though, Dean was thinking how it would be easy to come onto Gary, but on the opposite side of the token, how awkward it would be, other than some innocent hugging, to include Michael in any sexual arousals. "I'm not sure."
Quick as he unbuttoned and wanting to go further, Gary stuffs Dean's shirt tail back in his pants, "I think we should get with our boys and talk about it."
"Yeah, maybe," he wasn't too enthused, Dean doing up his buttons.
Walking out into the other room, them all sitting around the Tv, watching a dvd, `The Sound Of Music', Dean's jaw dropped open, seeing Michael sitting on the sofa, Kevyn on his lap, feeding Michael lasagna! Exchanging looks with Gary, answering the proposal made in kitchen, Dean shrugs his shoulders, then munches off his plate.
Whereas Taj was babying Renzo, now he sat next to Armando, on the floor, back to the sofa.
"Don't forget to save room for dessert!" Gary alerts everyone.
When out in the kitchen, Michael hadn't picked up on it, but of Nick and Simon, "Looks like the professor is ready to get his daily dose of whipped cream!"
It made Simon's head pop up, out of Nick's crotch, warning, "I didn't turn in your jury grade yet, don't forget!"
"See if I care," Michael cared less, knowing he still had it cinched!
"Michael?" Kevyn questioned, looking into those brown eyes.
"What?"
"I thought you cared about school?"
"I do, but no sweat. Simon's not going to change his mind about giving me an `A', are you Simon?" Michael nudges him with his foot.
Mouth set, Simon again pops up, "Do we have to go through this now?"
Showing it was over and done with, for now, Michael directs his next line of fire, "So, Dean, when are we going home?"
With Christmas day on the horizon, Dean clears his throat with a gulp of wine, "Um, I'm not sure," passes the buck, "when are you packing, Gary?"
"I dunno." Coming full circle, Gary asks, "When would you like to go, Michael dear?"
He wasn't really used to this, `darling, dear' stuff, Michael replying, "Will tomorrow fit your schedule?"
"I'll make sure Joe clears it," Gary replies.
Mind sidetracked, Michael sees Taj checking up on Renzo, with his arm around Armando. He felt sorry, for everyone in the room, each had `another', even though for now, Gary had switched off to Dean and Michael presently had Kevyn sitting on his crotch.
"When did you say Eric gets off work?"
Knowing what irked Renzo just now, keeping attention on the movie, a distraction to what was going on around him, turns to Michael, "Who me?"
"Uh, no," Michael felt bad, that it wasn't meant for Renzo, even though it involved him, "I was talking to Gary."
"I told him to come up after midnight." Even though there were clocks around, Gary asks, "What time is it?"
Following the conversation, about Eric, which Renzo sensed if it involved the man who wiped blood from his lip, it was about him too, looks to Gary for an answer as well.
Since Renzo wasn't looking, Michael nods to Gary, "It's only 7:30. How about getting him off early?"
"Off early?" Gary wondered how he would handle this magic!
Picking up on Gary's habits, Michael has memorized one, "Why don't you give Joe a call and let him arrange it?"
Dean says, so only Gary can hear, "I guess we know who wears the pants in this family!"
Taj snickers, which tells Dean he wasn't quiet enough, ready to give Michael some pointers. Close in their relationship, Armando cautions, "Let them find out on their own?"
Taj keels over, giving Armando a kiss!
"I could do that," Gary was just as well pleased on passing off the responsibility.
Rising up out of the oversized armchair, butt-to-butt with Dean, Gary grabs his cell off of the end table, heads into the other room.
Coming back into the movie room, Michael is right on it, "Well, what did Joe say?"
Renzo looked to Gary for the word as well.
"You were right on it, Michael. Joe says to let him handle it!"
With Gary walking the back of the sofa, Kevyn knew it time to abdicate his thrown. Excusing himself, he walks through the valley of those lounging on the floor, stepping forwards and sideways, till he gets to where Dean sits, "Scoot over, will ya?"
Dean moving over, Kevyn wedges his butt in.
Getting situated, Gary goes to sit, Michael saying, "No, hold it a sec."
Getting up, Michael talks to Gary like a dog, `sit.'
Sitting, Gary watches as Michael softly takes up space on his lap, "What's this?"
"I dunno. I feel like it'll be more comfortable," Michael gets cute, "sitting on my daddie's lap!"
"Oh how sweet," Dean says it, like it's so pathetic!
"I think it's sweet," Kevyn replies.
Wouldn't he know it, Gary getting settled with his `son', the door-man phone has to ring?!
"Wow, that was quick!" Michael remarks. "Joe, he's good!"
Gary was ready to say it, `if you only knew,' but it wasn't the proper time for saying so!
"Leave it to me," Taj gets up to answer.
Then again, Michael is on it, "Strange."
"What is?" Gary asks.
"How or why would Eric call, if he was already at the door?"
"You got a point there."
Taj, loving to answer the door to strangers, doesn't even relay the information, says to, "Send him up!"
Opening the door, Taj stirs it up, to get a reaction, which would enlighten himself, to which side of the fence this hot man swung towards, "Mm-mm, whom should I say has come calling?"
Their conversation this afternoon was about business and knowing any man who could plunk down 6-month's rent on a loft in trendy Brooklyn, could afford to have a butler. Though, untraditionally, he wondered about the uniform, "I'm here by invitation of Mr. Wynston?"
Yelling out, very un-butler-like, Taj screams above the noise in the other room, everyone singing `Do-Re-Mi', who knew it, "Someone at the door for Mr. Wynston!"
Knowing he hadn't announced himself, "Tell him it's Trevor Adesque."
Gary not answering in 10 seconds, gave Taj leeway, "He must be busy," in the butler's mind, with Michael, "c'mon in!"
Trevor now knew, the messy-dressed man was not the butler, being herded in through the door with a casual arm over the shoulder. Looking upon the man with full frontal eye assault, Trevor bit a lip, wondering how those perky nubs, showing through the white shirt, dark skin giving hint, tasted. Now, looking down upon that man, peering through the few unfastened buttons, he forgot about formalities.
"Like, oh my god!" Taj says, being bulldozed against the wall!
He was shut up real quick, Trevor losing control of his formal approach, lips keeping Taj quiet!
Out of nowhere, the hallway echoes, "Well, aren't you going to introduce us?"
Lips still attached, Taj looks to his left, break off, "Uh, this is Trevor."
"Hi, Trevor," Armando says, approaching the two.
Being Taj has already helped himself, Armando does the same, grabbing Trevor by the shoulders, planting a kiss.
"Well, aren't you two affectionate?" Trevor remarks.
Not giving the heads up, Trevor having come onto him, Taj says, "Oh, we can be much, much more!"
"Well come on in," Armando takes hold of Trevor's arm. Of course, his favorite line, "Are you hungry?"
Before Taj could follow, he literally backs up, walking backwards towards the knock on the door.
Opening it, he says, "Well come on in, honey!"
"I'm Eric," of which Eric feels dumb, having buzzed Taj in earlier.
Taking him by the arm, Taj says, "Oh I know who you are. Renzo has been waiting all night for you!"
Tall and muscular, much the reflection, in physical ways, as the African man, Eric asks, "Has he now?"
Jumping up off the sofa, it's like someone had lit a fire under Renzo's ass, "Eric! You're here, finally!"
"Yeah," Eric goes to Renzo, like he's the only other guy in the room, "strangest thing, this dude, Joe, comes up to me and tells me `Gary' has arranged for me to be off duty so I can come to the party." Then, addressing Gary, "It was you, wasn't it?"
Gary, who has been smooching with his `son', comes up for air, "Uh yeah. Joe, he's a good man."
Michael asks, "Must be a `very' good man!"
Gary smirked, going back to Michael, neither caring about the Nazi's rounding up the von Trapp family, nor the secretive nuns.
"Did you eat?" Renzo asks, he and Eric headed off to the kitchen.
Not having to slip himself out from under Michael, Gary felt confident Trevor would be taken care of, seeing him chatting with Armando and Taj. He did mention though, "Uh, Trevor, this is the young artist I'm renting the studio space for, Sander Van-Grignon."
Turning from the couple, now that he knew Taj and Armando were a couple, Trevor greets Sander, "Uh, are any of these others your boyfriend?" He didn't mean to be blunt, just starved for male affection, amends, "I mean, are you close to any of them?"
Sander, who thought Trevor to be awesomely hot, replies, "They're my friends, but not my boyfriends!"
With total abandon, Trevor says, "Sorry for being such an idiot."
Michael, who briefly put Gary's affection on hold, says to his daddy, "Another match made in heaven!"
As things turn out, Sander hit it off with Trevor. He went on to have a very successful art showing, all of his works sold, except the one he gifted to Gary, in appreciation. He lives with Trevor, in Brooklyn.
Sander got his wish, going to Gary and receiving funding for his first art exhibit, even before graduating. At his first art showing, Michael offered to provide some music. Thinking of some nice, light classical tunes. When he told a buddy at school, the idea worked it's way into some jazz standards, adding a trumpet, flute, drums and keys. They gig regularly around the city, picking up loot for college tuition, although Michael doesn't really have to worry about that!
Kevyn had gone with Dean, to chat with Uncle Stephen, about the cafe at Braddock's. He credits his presence with his uncle giving in to all the suggestions Dean brought up, which also meant replacing every fork, knife, spoon, plate and cup, plus remodeling the whole cafe.
Showing up at the tail end of the meeting, Alex Nouguet had some prototypes of his new sports briefs. He was sorry he could not bring some models, but Dean to the rescue, "We've got Kevyn here. Who else do you need?"
Kevyn choked on his coffee, but with Alex offering to go to the fitting room, Kevyn was all for it!
Before Alex had finished selling Stephen Braddock his new line of skimpy sports briefs, which could pack a bundle up front, without fear of loose parts jumping out, Kevyn had landed himself a position with CK modeling agency, part time, or as he could, in between classes.
For a charity event, the Gay Pride Center being recipient, Braddock's held a fashion show, featuring the new Nouguet briefs. Right after Christmas, it was a big draw, featuring men of all sizes and shapes. Being they were all friends, a call to others down the grapevine, herded in the circle of friends, including Dean, Michael, Gary, Renzo, Eric, Trevor, Sander, Nick, Simon and even the two Michael and Dean had met at The Mozambique Hotel, Cubby and Max Stack aka Luca Ferrano.
Kevyn, he became more involved in modeling, which left Dean alone more often, he and Kevyn growing further apart. Michael, seeing an in for his friends, put 1 and 1 together, when Jeff Pflug came to the city to be interviewed by Stephen Braddock, for the secretary position.
Dean after showing Jeff around the city, convinced him it would be more beneficial, renting an apartment in the city, rather than schlepping to and from the `burbs. Living in a duplex, they share half a house with Sander and Trevor, out in Brooklyn.
At his party, which didn't come until afterwards, coinciding with Sander's birthday, December 28, Michael claimed, "Cool how everything turned out, huh Dean?"
All Dean could say was, "Woof!" giving Jeff a hefty bear-hug, "Thanks to you!"
Seemingly, without anything else to say, Dean snaps his fingers, "Oh! I almost forgot something," goes to the closet, returns, carrying a big, square object, all wrapped in pink paper.
Seeing it, Michael says, "But you already gave me my birthday present," he lets the silver bracelet, Dean claiming it a symbol of friendship, hanging from his wrist.
"Oh, well this is just something, a little extra," said modestly.
Michael says to his best bud-Jeff, "Sometimes I don't like the little wink Dean gives-ya?"
"I know," Jeff replies, having gotten to know Dean in a small span of time, "usually it gets a person into deep, deep trouble."
"How deep?" Michael quizzes.
"Shut up and open your gift, unless you want me to take it back to the store?" Dean warns.
Sitting right in front of him, on the same sofa he helped Dean bring into his house last summer, Michael tears the paper apart. Recognizing something, he says, like he's having heart failure, "No! It can't be!"
"What'd I tell you about the wink?" Jeff jokes.
But Michael wasn't thinking about deep stuff, only what lie on the sofa in front of him. After tearing through the wrapping, he pops the latches on the front, opening the lid to, "No! This is Nick's!"
The rest of the guys filter in, Nick being walked like a baby doll, Simon behind, "Not anymore!"
"What do you mean?" Michael doesn't even touch the trombone, like it was taboo.
"It's a shame to waste a good instrument on someone who only takes it out now and then. Dad, he wouldn't want to have it sitting in a closet or a museum," Nick explains.
"So, you're giving it to me?"
"Give?" Dean differs in opinion. "I cancelled the next ten years of vacation in P-town to pay for that thing!"
"What? For me?"
Even though lately, they hadn't seen each other around the clock, during the summer months, "I had a real good time last summer and if it wasn't for you, cleaning out my folks place, giving it a coat of paint, not to mention how you let me win at miniature golf, I..."
Jeff jumps in, "You let him win, Michael?"
Michael, just about ready to have tears pour out, "He was losing bad."
"Ahem! I just want to mention that, your `dad' loaned a little until I can pay him back," Dean looks to Gary.
"I told you, I wanted to go in with you on it, Dean," Gary tells him.
A stab in the side, Nick says, "Oh yeah, Simon made me take a cut in the retail price!"
"Simon?" Michael mentions the name, something in the eye exchange telling of his gratitude.
Being humble, Simon says, "Oh, I almost forgot. I stole a look at the jury grades. You got an `A'!"
With wiseguy attitude, Michael tells him, "You told me I got an `A' the day I played at the jury."
"Oh, did I?" Simon replies.
"But thanks anyway. Now, if you clear the room, I want to thank Dean properly!"
That stirred things up quite a bit. However, it wasn't just about Dean, but Gary as well and Jeff, Michael telling how he had the best people around him.
Of course, he had some special words for Dean, "So don't go screwing it up," Michael winks at Jeff!
"Woof!" Dean agreed with Michael's words of wisdom!
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©2014 T. Chase M©Phee
`Up oN THe WoOfToP...' and developing segments of this story, may not be sold, nor made part of any collection, without prior consent from the author, or Santa Bear and his little cubs won't visit you next year.