by John Charles
True, he lost the Monroe project, but he gained several from the publicity, including the Clarkesburgh police department. Now if he could only get Lance out of his head, he'd be doing much better. Ah, Lance. What is it about him that has me so turned on and so sad that he walked from my life? He laughed out loud. Dare I start? There is so much about him that I love. His laugh is contagious. Our sex is amazing. He is an extremely good craftsman. He loves his work as I do mine. He has a loving, caring family that wants him to be happy. Until the publicity started, he felt at home in my arms. He is one of the hottest people I've ever met. Yeah, I guess I do have it bad, but what do I do about it now? He walked out. He was the one who felt out of place, not me. He said we were in different leagues.
His ringing cell phone brought him back to the present. "Hi," he said after seeing Rachell's name on the screen. He listened to her hyper-intense voice for a few minutes as she told him about the new project she was working on. He loved his friends and loved that they were involved in career paths that brought them happiness. Rachell always had a way of bringing him back from whatever mood he might have been in. Today was no exception.
"Unless you want to meet me in Clarkesburgh, I think we'll have to make it another day." Her disappointment was obvious. "No, I'm not there yet. Right now I'm sitting in a meadow, sipping a bottle of cold water, and dreaming about my life." They talked for a few minutes, agreed to lunch the following week, and said goodbye. Smiling from the much-needed break from his pity party, Forrest stood, gathered the blanket and the empty bottle, and walked back to his car.
The balance of the drive to Clarkesburgh was peaceful. He thought about Lance and wondered if he should call him. He thought about his company, his wonderful career, and how thankful he was. The show tunes seemed to sound much better by the time he reached the city.
Clarkesburgh was a city with over half million people living within its borders. When the influx of working commuters was counted; that number increased to over three quarters of a million people. Though not as big as some neighboring cities, Clarkesburgh attracted its share of criminals, thugs, prostitutes, and drug dealers.
As he navigated through the city streets, Forrest remembered why he loved living in Amity. Though bigger than Monroe, Amity maintained some of the country feel. Sure it had its share of crime, several poor sections, and the business district, but Amity didn't have high rise office buildings, huge apartment buildings, or the level of crime cities like Clarkesburgh had. He felt nervous driving through a city he barely knew. When he reached the police station, he looked for a secure parking garage, not wanting to park on the street. To his surprise, the police station was above a self-park garage. Upon entering, he saw a sign that read public parking with an arrow pointing left, police parking with an arrow pointing right. He looked to his right and saw a uniformed officer standing inside a gated area. Not going that way. He turned left.
After parking, he took his briefcase and walked to where he saw the officer. "I'm Forrest Dentren," he said to the officer through the ceiling high fence. "I have an appointment with Captain Darrick Syverson. How do I get into the station?"
The officer radioed dispatch to confirm Forrest's appointment. When the radio squawked the confirmation, the officer told Forrest where the department stairway could be found. "Press the button on the intercom, identify yourself and wait for the buzzer. Captain Syverson's office is on the third floor." He didn't tell Forrest that his picture had already been taken; his identification had already been checked in the criminal database, or that his fingerprint would be captured by the button on the intercom. Most people pressed the button with their index finger, some with their thumb. In either case, the fingerprint was sufficient for a cursory check in the federal crime database.
By the time Forrest reached the third floor, Captain Syverson, knew more about Forrest, than he did. "My pleasure. The mayor has told me quite a bit about you Mr. Dentren." Syverson was a gracious man about six feet tall, a little extra around the middle, but seemed well built for a man in his sixties. He directed Forrest to a chair in front of his desk. "How was your ride from Amity? Can I get you something to drink - coffee, water?"
"No thank you, I'm fine and please call me Forrest. We'll be talking a lot so the formality is definitely not necessary." He sat in the designated chair and waited for Syverson to continue.
"As you know, we need a new department building. This one was supposed to be temporary, but we've been here over twenty years. We've simply outgrown the space and need something that represents the strength of the department to this part of the city. Do you know much about Clarkesburgh, Forrest?"
They talked for nearly an hour about the city, the growing population, the crime rate, and the need for an official presence. "This building looks like any office building in the area. People don't even realize we are here. We need a presence. The city has procured a location for the new police department building about three blocks from here." Syverson picked up his phone and dialed a number. "We're ready, could you and Fran join us, please."
A few minutes later, a man and woman entered Syverson's office. "This is detective Carl Bellwin and his partner Fran Talber. They know this city better than anyone here does. I've asked them to show you around so you can get a handle on the area, what we want to exhibit and a feel for the people who work in our department." Forrest stood, shook hands with Carl and Fran, and left Syverson's office.
"I appreciate you taking the time from your duties to give me the twenty-five cent tour. It will be helpful when we start the design phase of the project." Fran looked as if she was too young to be a detective. Forrest guessed she was in her early twenties. Carl, on the other hand, looked like a seasoned officer. He kept his body in great condition, dressed smartly, and had the manners of someone who grew up in money. He liked them immediately.
Much to his surprise, Forrest had no idea what the inner workings of a police department entailed. Carl and Fran drove him to the site of the new department, told him why it was chosen, and what they had envisioned the building would look like. "People in this part of the city need to see us. They need to know we are here and will be for a long time. Criminals need to understand that we will find them and bring them to justice. Residents and commuters to the city need to see us as their friends, not the enemy." Carl was adamant about his vision for the department.
"You can do a lot with a building, but much of what you are saying comes from the cops, not from a building. I'm not sure I can deliver everything on your wish list." Forrest, Fran and Carl were standing in front of a derelict building on the corner of what appeared to be a boarded up section of the city. "Does anyone actually live here?" he said pointing to other nearby buildings.
"Mostly vagrants and a few families, who have not relocated as yet." Fran had her hand discretely positioned near her service pistol as she spoke. "The city recaptured most of the buildings via eminent domain for this and two other projects. The goal is to help the neighborhood move into transition and bring jobs and families to the area."
"Well, I can help by designing a modern, well functioning police station, but how do you get rid of the criminal aspect," said Forrest as he looked at Fran's hand, now openly resting on the handle of her revolver.
"It takes time, patience, and perseverance. Fran and I have been part of the clean up mission for several years now. I think we are getting the message to the gangs that we won't tolerate them any longer." Carl seemed more relaxed than Fran, but still kept his eyes moving as they spoke.
"Um, will the workers be safe?" Forrest, himself looking around as he spoke. "I don't want to see anyone hurt just because we took on this project."
"Once the project gets underway, you'll see a lot of uniformed and undercover officers here all the time. We want to put on a show, a show that tells the criminal population as well as the residents of the city that we mean business." Carl ushered Forrest to the car. "Have you seen enough, or do you want to drive around some more?"
"Where do you live, Forrest?" Fran broke his concentration as they drove back to the station.
"In north Amity. I bought and converted an old brownstone into three condominium units. Love living there and the neighborhood is transitioning into a highly desired area." They talked about the area, where Fran and Carl lived, the need for more people who were willing to invest in the boarded up buildings, and what the new police station would do to help.
When they returned to the station, Carl turned Forrest over to Captain Syverson again. "If you need anything, please call me." He handed Forrest his card and received Forrest's in return. His day nearly finished, Forrest was directed to a hotel in a better section of Clarkesburgh. He had an appointment with the mayor the following morning and the city planning commission in the afternoon. He would be back in Amity by early evening on Wednesday.
Chapter 13
As predicted, this was Emily's best estate sale since she started her business. Almost every item in the opulent home and garage had sold at near asking price. The heirs were ecstatic with the results and promised to recommend Emily to their friends. By 7 on Sunday, everyone was exhausted but still smiling. They had pulled off a great feat, selling everything in a huge ten thousand square foot mansion as well as four cars.
Lance got more work then he could have imagined considering the furniture was kept in pristine condition. The buyers wanted things cleaned, touched up, and polished. He was pleased. Around four Sunday afternoon, he received a text from Dale asking if he wanted to go to The Hole. Lance responded Working until 7. Meet you at 9. OK? Dale agreed.
Showered and dressed in tight jeans, button down shirt, and boots, Lance walked into The Hole expecting to see a sparse crowd. It was Sunday and most people worked on Monday so he was surprised to see the place was packed. A scan of the main dance floor found Dale standing by the far end with several of their mutual friends.
He stopped at the bar for a beer and made his way through the crowd. "What the fuck? Did I miss the invitation?"
"Yeah, you did. Tomorrow's been postponed." Dale, Lance, and their friends tried to talk over the too loud music, were bumped and shuffled by the crowd, and decided to call it quits by ten.
"It felt suffocating in there," said Dale as the group walked out to the street. Everyone agreed and one by one said their goodnights, leaving Lance standing next to his friend. "Let's take this back to my place." Lance wondered if that was a good idea after the talk he had with his mother. He thought about Forrest as he watched crowds of people coming and going from The Hole. "You having second thoughts?" asked Dale as he watched his friend hesitate.
"Not second thoughts, no. Just not sure I want to start something this late on a work night." They stood on the sidewalk for a few minutes; watching with amusement. People entered the club, hoping to have a good time, then a few minutes later, many of those same people came out with annoyed expressions on their faces. It seemed that Lance was not the only person thinking Sunday night would be slow.
Dale remained quiet as he watched his friend. He pulled Lance into a hug, held him tight, and let him make the decision. "Yeah, let's go to your place, but I can't spend the night. I've got to be back at the estate to pick up furniture tomorrow."
Lance followed Dale to his apartment, once again having an argument with himself. His mother had suggested he talk with Forest, tell him how he felt, and see if the feeling was mutual. Now he was on his way to have sex with his friend. He was conflicted, unsure of himself, and wondered if he should just go home.
Dale waited as Lance parked, took his hand, and led him upstairs. "You're far away tonight. Something going on?" Lance didn't want to talk about Forrest, but felt Dale should know why he was having second thoughts. Inside Dale's apartment, they sat on the couch with beers while Dale waited for his friend to open up. "We're friends, Lance. I know you and it's plain to see that something is bothering you." He leaned in for a kiss, waited an inch from Lance's lips, and looked into his best friend's eyes, hoping for an answer.
He was surprised when Lance pulled him tight, kissed him with passion, and gave him no choice but to surrender. Dale got his answer; Lance had a problem and didn't know how to handle it. He pushed his friend back, spread his legs apart with his knees, and laid on him, crotch to crotch. He gently nibbled Lance's lips, teased his eyelids with gentle kisses, licked Lance's ear, and then did the other.
Lance held onto Dale as if he might lose him again. He wanted what Dale represented, wanted to be in his lover's arms, wanted to be receiving the tender and affectionate loving he was receiving, but did he want this with Dale? He needed it now and allowed Dale to take him away.
Slowly, as Dale removed Lance's shirt, he teased each nipple until he had Lance squirming. Then completely out of the norm, Dale bit hard, trapping Lance's left nipple between his teeth. He held the other between his thumb and finger, squeezing just as hard. Caught by surprise, Lance nearly threw Dale from the couch. He arched his back, brought his legs up around Dale's body, crossed his ankles, and squeezed. Dale continued to torture Lance's nipples as his lover tried to take control back, but Dale was not relinquishing.
His hand slipped from Lance's nipple, swiftly moved between their hard bodies, and found Lance's package. He squeezed hard, driving Lance further into pain / pleasure lust. The harder he bit and the harder he squeezed, the more Lance moaned, groaned, and shivered beneath him. Dale wanted total control tonight and he would take it no matter how much Lance fought.
Their battle for dominance continued as Dale forced his hand into Lance's jeans. There he found his target and continued his torture. In a series of fluid movements, he had overtaken Lance, had him naked, and was forcing his sheathed cock into him. Lance struggled and lost the battle. Dale, though not much bigger, was stronger and managed to thwart all of Lance's attempts.
Lance was being pounded. His arms were held above his head, his legs on Dale's shoulders. Dale showed no mercy - Lance needed none. Though he didn't fully surrender, he needed what Dale was giving, needed to be taken, and needed to be shown who was in charge. Dale continued to pound his ass for over half an hour. He had staying power like no other hook-up Lance had ever had. He bit Lance's nipples, his ear lobes, and his neck - leaving a mark sure to be noticed.
Lance came with such fury, he blacked out for a few seconds, but Dale continued his relentless pounding. Each thrust left Lance breathless. Each thrust moved Lance closer to another earth-shattering climax, each thrust, took him away from his thoughts. It became mindless sex. After Lance's third near violent climax, Dale's thrusts became irregular. He was approaching his peak, moving over the edge, when he thrust hard, stayed put and came with a growl that should have scared the shit out of Lance.
His climax took everything from him, left him breathless - panting and gasping for air. His lungs burned, his muscles hurt, his legs spasmed from 40 minutes of heavy pounding of Lance's ass. He dropped onto the cum covered man beneath him gasping for air. The two men surrendered as their eyes closed, pulling them into much needed rest. He could hear Lance's heartbeat, feel his heavy breathing, and feel the man beneath him shudder as if his body or his senses were losing control. Dale slept on Lance's cum covered chest finally relinquishing, not to Lance, but to the sleep that had overtaken him.
He felt his lover stir beneath him, remembered where he was and why. Without moving his head, Dale said, "So are you going to tell me about it?" He felt Lance stiffen, heard him take a breath and not let it out, as he tried to push Dale off him. "No, don't even try to get away from this. Either you tell me what's going on or I'm going to take you again only this time it will be much harder."
"You make it sound like it will be
torture."
"It will be!"
Dale continued to pin Lance beneath him, keeping his weight on every part of his body. When Lance eased down, Dale pushed himself to his elbows, looked into Lance's eyes and saw frustration mixed with sadness. He eased himself to Lance's side and faced his friend and former lover. "Start talking." Lance did.
He told Dale about Forrest, the fun they had together, that they liked many of the same things, their conversation about the Star Wars movie, and how different they were, too. "He is in a different class. People recognize him on the street. They come up to him and introduce themselves as if it were a privilege to meet him. It's like he's on a pedestal or something."
"And that makes you crazy, doesn't it?" Dale was propped on his elbow, tracing circles around Lance's nipples with his other hand. He flicked one nipple, then the other whenever Lance stopped talking. Once he pinched Lance's left nipple so hard, Lance screamed.
"More than crazy. He is smart, connected, loves people, and owns a company that is known worldwide. How do I compete with that?"
"You don't." Before Lance could object, Dale continued. "You give him what you have and don't try to compete." Lance looked at him as if he were the crazy one. "You have lots to offer to him. You're loving, caring, built like a brick shit house, love sex in all forms, are great with your hands."
"Did I say you love sex and are great with your hands?" Dale rolled on top of Lance again, pinned him down holding his arms above his head, and leaned in for an aggressive kiss. He felt the man beneath him stir as he rocked his body against him. Breaking the kiss, he could see Lance's dilated pupils, and knew he wanted more. "You feel this?" Dale ground his stone hard cock against Lance. "You give him what he wants, love him, talk to him, let him bring you with him as he grows to love what you are, and learn some self confidence." He continued to rock his hips making Lance shudder. "Have you told him about your fears and concerns?"
