BROTHERS? Part I - brospt1.txt [1/1]

[Matthias]

-- 1A --

(Todd Christian talks to Jason Lyons, flies to New York, and
analyzes a project.)

In the two weeks following his trip to New York, Todd talked
to only one brother. On May 14 Jason called to ask for advice
about adding a deck. "The people that sell us our greenhouse kits
have a great deal on cedar," Jason said.
Calculator in one hand, phone in the other, Todd asked, "How
big do you want it?"
"Nothing huge," Jason answered, "say twenty by twelve. It'll
be attached to our house." Todd asked if there would be clearance
to work beneath the deck. "Plenty -- the ground slopes downhill
on that side."
Todd sized the footings, girders, and posts; after giving
Jason the numbers, he asked, "Have you heard anything from the
lawyer?"
"I called him to see about a summer job," Jason answered.
"He said he'd find something. Chris thinks it'd be fun to spend a
summer in New York."
"Different anyway," Todd replied. "If I don't get a contract
signed pretty soon maybe I'll give him a call. I've had two jobs
fall through this past week."
The following Saturday Jason called again to say he'd poured
the foundation and to ask how long he should wait before starting
the framing.. When they had discussed Jason's options (he could
frame tomorrow with caution, or he could wait a week and not
worrry), Todd asked if he'd heard back from Greely.
"Yeah," Jason answered, "Chris and I have our last final on
the twenty-fourth. We'll fly back the next morning, fool around
over the three-day weekend, and go to work Tuesday morning. We'll
be landscaping one of the homeless shelters."
After talking to Jason, Todd balanced his checking account,
which depressed him. In addition, Kevin would receive his last
paycheck this Friday, then nothing more till September. Teaching
assistants needed to budget more carefully than Kevin -- or Todd
for that matter -- seemed capable of.
But Todd did not call the lawyer just yet. He waited until
Kevin came home from visiting his aunt to describe the situation,
"I'm about broke, you'll be broke in a week, so how about working
for Greeley?"
Like any Morro Bay native, Kevin deplored the idea of an
air-conditioned summer, though he had to concede, "It'd be better
than starving I guess."
Todd telephoned Greeley, reached his answering machine, and
asked him to call. At ten, the roommates were watching the Dodger
game when Greeley did. "Sorry I missed you," he said. "Ms.
Ashcroft had an autograph party. Jason gives me to understand
that business is slow out your way." Todd asked if Greeley knew
of anything he could do in New York. "It's quite a coincidence
you should be asking just at this moment. As a matter of fact,
one of my subordinates was telling me our Jamaica facility is in
need of considerable work."
Todd blinked. "Do you mean Jamaica as in Jamaica the
island?"
"Not quite, Jamaica is city out on the island near
Hempstead." Greeley said that the Halstead Trust owned a six-
bedroom three-bathroom ex-mansion with an abandoned servants
quarters attached. "We purchased it quite cheaply, but it needs
more in the way of repairs than we expected. The former owner was
really quite deceitful about the scope of the work. Perhaps you
could take a look at the place and give us your professional
opinion. I can make flight reservations whenever you say."

Todd, Kevin, and Connor finished roofing the garage the next
day, leaving only the subcontracted garage door installation.
Connor could watch over that, so on Monday, Todd drove to Los
Angeles, flew to New York, and met Greeley. Leaving the airport,
Todd said, "I understand that the Hayles' sons get a subsidized
wage. What about if I bring somebody to work with me?"
"They'll be paid union scale. I assume you mean Kevin."
"Him and a laborer, Connor Michaels. Connor wants to get
away from a girl problem."
"You'll be completely in charge," Greeley said. "Your only
responsibility will be the end product."
In Jamaica a hedge screened the Halstead Trust's house from
the street. Greeley parked at the curb, walked to a gate, and
inserted a key. When the gate swung open, Todd saw the project, a
two-story brick house with a mishung front door, two broken
windows, and shutters hanging askew, all obvious defects.
"You must have known what you were getting into," Todd said.
"Not with respect to the wiring," Greeley replied.
At the side of the house the lawyer showed Todd an obsolete
panelboard with pennies replacing the fuses. "Everything works,"
Greeley said, "but smoke begins coming out of the walls after a
time. I suppose you'll have to farm that part out, yes?"
"No," Todd answered, "Kevin's a whiz at electrical."
Aside from any hidden problems, the project seemed
straightforward enough. Three doors needed replacing, walls
needed patching, and everything needed a fresh coat of paint.
"Depending on Kevin, you could be ready to move your folks in in
a week," Todd said.
"Splendid, and could you submit a cost analysis before you
return to the coast?"
Monday evening Todd worked in the Hayles' Halstead Building
apartment. At six he was talking to a local mason when Robby, the
waiter he'd encountered the last time he visited, entered the
conference room. After Todd had hung up, Robby called him to
dinner.
In the dining room, the teenager served Todd a steak, a
baked potato, and a spinach & bacon salad. Hovering alongside
Todd, he asked, "Are you going to be staying here this summer?"
"For a couple of weeks anyway," Todd answered, cutting into
his T-bone. "Do you live around here?"
"Downtown in the village, but I'll be moving out to Jamaica
as soon as you're done. What kind of wine do you like?"
Todd asked for a beer; Robby brought him a pitcher and told
him good-bye. "I'll see you next time you're in town," Robby
said.
Todd finished his estimate at nine p.m. eastern daylight
time, making it six o'clock in California. Hoping to catch Kevin
before he left to pick up his date, Todd called home. Kevin
reported that the garage door had been installed, that the
inspector had signed off the final, and that he'd deposited the
client's check, adding, "I also ran a search on your parents.
They weren't MD's like we thought -- they had their PhD's in
physiology. Your dad did his thesis work on masturbation." Kevin
snickered, "Like father, like son, except you're too busy doing
it to write about it, speaking of which, I notice my lube's
missing."
Todd frowned, "I didn't take it. Maybe Connor borrowed it.
What was my mom's thesis about?"
"I haven't got that far yet," Kevin answered.
Off the phone, Todd walked to the windows, stared down at
the park, and contemplated something confusing. Why, he wondered,
would a physiologist be studying masturbation? Todd could have
understood studying jack-offs if his father had been a
psychologist, but physiologists studied mechanics, and
mechanically speaking, orgasming manually didn't differ from
orgasming any other way. Perplexed, he entered the library.
Besides the shelves bulging with reference books, a glass
case held videotapes labelled alphabetically Aaron, Abel, Adam,
Alan, etc. Near the middle of the second shelf, Todd looked for a
tape labeled Kevin, didn't find it, but did find three labelled
Connor. Todd took one upstairs to the bedroom he and Kevin had
shared their first night here. He put the tape in the VCR,
pressed play, and watched from the foot of the bed.
The video opened showing a man older by a couple of years
than Connor. He wore a red Fordham sweat shirt, blue jeans, and
loafers. Off camera, a man asked him, "Please state your full
name and the part of the city you live in."
"Michael Lee Jacobs and I live in the Bronx."
"Please descibe the first time you played with yourself,"
the questioner said.
Crossing and recrossing his legs, Mike replied, "Well, my
family lived down here back then, and my older brother spent all
his allowance at Guido's -- that's Guido's Pornucopia on Fifty-
Sixth Street not far from Fifth Avenue. I asked him why he was
wasting his money, and he told me he'd found out a new way to
have fun."
"Excuse me for interrupting you," the questioner said, "but
I'm assuming your brother was eighteen but you weren't. Is that
correct?"
Mike shook his head, "He was nineteen, I was eighteen. All
us Jacobs kids are late bloomers," Mike grinned, "but we make up
for lost time."

-- 1B --

(Greg talks to Todd, flies to New York, and eats pizza at Mama
Rosella's.)

Tuesday night Todd called Fayetteville; he told Greg, "I'm
in New York. Yesterday Greeley showed me what looked like a minor
project, but today he turned it into a major one. I told him I
needed more help, and he wanted me to see if any of the brothers
were interested." The project consisted of restoring an old
servants quarters, Todd said.
Greg looked at his roommate, asleep on the couch. "I'm
afraid Eric's the one with construction in his background," Greg
said. "All I've done is go fetch things."
Todd said, "You'd be paid plenty of money for fetching. What
does Eric know how to do?"
"Hold on for a moment." Greg set down the phone, went to the
couch, and shook Eric. "Todd Christian wants you," Greg told him.
Listening to Eric's end of the conversation, Greg heard him
say, "Hey Todd, how's it going where you are? . . . Why'd you go
back to New York? . . . Uh huh . . . Uh huh . . . Yes, I do have
some experience that way, mainly finish work, setting doors,
running trim, that sort of thing. . . . I hope to shout I'd be
interested. That's four times the money I'm making down here. . .
Let me find out for you." Covering the handset, Eric asked
Greg, "Could you get away for the weekend?"
Greg nodded, "Violet was asking me if her boy could have
some of my hours."
Eric relayed the information, listened briefly, and said,
"Actually, I believe we'd prefer to fly out of Dallas. I've got
kin there I've been meaning to visit, and we could leave Greg's
car at my grandpa's. We've been out of school since last Friday,
so we can head down anytime. . . . That sounds great, and thanks
a whole bunch for calling." Eric hung up the phone and told Greg,
"Todd wants us there early Saturday or anytime Friday."
When Greg had been in New York two weeks ago he had hung out
with his brother Jeff and Jeff's friend Scott. As they'd been
walking along the East River, the Delaware men had mentioned that
last summer they'd repainted Scott's parents' beach house.
Although Greg hadn't gotten Jeff's phone number, he did have his
e-mail address. Greg sent him a message, suggesting that if he
and/or Scott still needed a summer job, they should call Todd.

Friday evening Greg spent the last of his expense money on a
taxi into Manhattan. At the Halstead Building Todd answered the
doorbell. He led Greg and Eric into the living room, introduced
them to a man they hadn't met yet, Connor Michaels, and said that
Jeff/Scott would be joining them shortly.
In the living room, as Todd was pouring everyone beer, Kevin
entered from the library. Handing Todd a videotape, he said,
"Here's the one I was looking for." Kevin explained to the
others, "The Hayles had their PhD's in physiology. John Hayle did
his thesis work on male masturbation. He filmed guys jerking off,
and his notes say this guy Craig was the first."
Each bedroom had its own VCR; the group watched Craig's tape
in Todd's room. Greg saw a man nearly as well-built as Mark
Seaton sitting beside a swimming pool. The tape began with the
interviewer asking, "Hello, Craig, my name's Thad Kiley. Could
you begin by telling us a little bit about yourself?"
"Yeah sure," Craig said. "I'm twenty-two-years-old, I'm a
senior at Columbia, and I'm a business major." The interviewer
asked where Craig had heard about Mr. Hayle's work. "There was an
ad in the paper saying that he was looking for volunteers to help
with his research. I called for details, talked to you, and you
invited me here."
"Let's establish the basics of your sexuality, Craig. Do you
consider yourself straight, gay, or bi." Craig answered straight.
"How old were you the first time you had an orgasm?" Craig
answered twelve. "What percent of the times you have sex do you
masturbate?"
Craig squinted into the sun. "These days it's about fifty-
fifty, but before I met the girl I'm going with now, it must have
been eighty, ninety percent." Kiley asked how many times Craig
had sex in an average week. "That varies anywhere from as little
as three to ten or eleven."
"What was the most times you've climaxed in one day?"
"Whacking off I did five -- with a girl I've done four."
Craig asked, "How long has it been since you ejaculated?"
"Six days," Craig answered. "I've been saving up."
"Was the abstinence difficult for you?"
"The first couple days were," Craig answered. "After that it
wasn't too bad."
The interviewer directed Craig to take off his trunks and
lie on the lawn. When he'd done it, the interviewer came on
screen -- he resembled Greeley. He wrapped a band around Craig's
arm and stuck a thermometer under his tongue. "Good luck," he
told Craig.
As Craig began pulling his possum, Kevin said, "The deal is,
Craig gets paid twenty dollars per wad. He kept his hand off his
meat for six days so he could collect the big bucks."
Standing, Mike said, "I don't want to watch this shit.
Anybody else for more beer?"
Greg, on the other hand, did want to watch Craig. He would
have preferred to watch Eric, but that wasn't an option. "I'll
take one," he told Mike, his eyes glued to the screen.
Sadly, Craig was not the best showman, though he squirted
impressively. After five minutes of stroking, pausing only to dry
his hand on his leg, he spewed eight healthy shots.

Saturday morning the brothers and their friends rode the
subway to Jamaica, transferring at Essex Street Station. They
took the Parsons Boulevard exit, walked three blocks to De Walt,
and entered a gate. At the end of the driveway sat a ramshackle
brick house.
Todd said, "A man named Misha Plotkin built this in 1874.
Back then, Queens was an independent city. It didn't become part
of New York for another twenty-six years."
Greg liked the front steps, four brick semicircles
decreasing in size, leading to a porch beneath a dilapidated
awning. "We have several things to take care of in the main house
before we move out to the servants quarters," Todd said. "Have
any of you ever patched plaster?"
Scuffing his foot, Jeff mumbled, "We patched up Scotty's
beach house."
"Good, maybe you can teach Greg and Eric," Todd said.
The landscapers had ridden with the rest of the group but
had stayed outside, drawing plans. When Todd sent Greg to scout
the neighborhood, he asked if Jason or Chris wanted anything from
the store.
"Not for today," Jason answered. "Tuesday we're going to
want string and stakes. Any garden supply place will have them."
"So will a lumberyard," Chris said.
In Fayetteville the Builders Emporium sold everything a
contractor needed. Here, New Yorkers had small specialty shops.
Long Island Electrical sold Chris's wire, The Green Thumb sold
miscellaneous yard supplies, Queenstown Masonry sold plaster
patch. For lunch Greg located Bernie's Kosher Delicatessen next
door to the equally ethnic Mama Rosella's.
As Greg stood outside Mama's window, studying the menu, a
baseball rolled into his foot. He picked up the ball, looked for
its owner, and saw two boys standing on the sidewalk about twenty
yards west. One of them yelled, "Hold on to it and I'll come and
get it."
"No need," Greg said, zinging an eighty-miles-per-hour
fastball into the kid's glove.
"Fuckin' A!" the catcher said.
Greg returned to the Plotkin house, reported what he had
learned, and told Todd, "If we'll be eating lunch here, there's
an Italian place yonder or if you'd rather have a sandwich,
there's a deli."
Todd glanced at his watch. "I have a meeting with Greeley,
but you guys can stay if you want."
Todd and Kevin returned to Manhattan; everyone else shared a
pizza at Mama Rosella's. While they were eating, Jason asked how
large a plant selection the Green Thumb carried.
"They didn't seem to have much, but I expect they could
order anything," Greg answered.

-- 1C --

(Jason eats pizza, orders landscaping plants, and loses a dollar
to Chris.)

Jason's brother Jeff ate his pizza voraciously, but were the
men really brothers? After lunch, walking to the Green Thumb with
Chris, Jason said, "You know, old buddy, this business about the
five of us being the Hayles' sons doesn't make sense. We for sure
don't look the same."
Chris acknowledged, "True, but I don't look like my brother
either."
Traffic seemed light for a big-city weekend. Few cars roamed
the boulevard, and what drivers there were, drove politely. All
his life Jason had heard horror stories about obnoxious New
Yorkers, but several people honked, smiled, even waved.
Additionally, when they got lost and asked a passerby for
directions, the man led them where they wanted to go.
At the nursery Jason gave the clerk the list of plants he
and Chris had decided on. The clerk looked it over, nodded, and
said. "We've got everything in stock at the warehouse. I could
deliver it Wednesday." When Jason requested a price quote, the
man told him to return in an hour. "I can't work on it till my
partner gets back from his lunch," he explained.
The Texans passed the time at the Queens Arboretum
discussing Jason's idea. To Chris's objection that he, Chris,
didn't look like his brother either, Jason said, "That's right,
but you'd think with five guys you'd have at least a couple of
them looking alike. There aren't even two of us with the same
color hair, not exactly. Mark's is almost black -- Greg's a
blond." Studying a monkey-puzzle tree, Jason expanded his
argument. "Also, it doesn't make sense some rich woman would dump
her kids just because she wanted a girl. People don't do that
unless they're goofy, and even if she were goofy, why would she
spread us out all over the country? Something's fishy."
The arboretum's conservatory had an extensive bromeliad
collection. Though Jason considered that group of plants
unsightly, many customers loved them. "Mrs. Taylor would have
bought all of these we could give her," Jason said, eyeing a
particularly repulsive specimen.
"Uh huh," Chris replied. "So if you guys aren't all
brothers, why did the Hayles say that you were?"
Jason answered, "We don't know that the Hayles said
anything. All we know is that the lawyer told us we were their
kids."
At two Jason and Chris picked up the cost sheet, studied it,
and placed the order. "Not for next Wednesday though. We won't be
ready for the delivery until . . . let's make it a week from next
Monday. We'll open a charge account if you've got a credit
application."
The clerk handed them a form with a green thumbprint as the
logo. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you," he said.
Riding the subway back to Manhattan, Chris suggested, "There
must be something all you guys have in common, some reason for
Greeley to pick you. What do you think it could be?"
"We're all cute," Jason answered; when Chris rolled his
eyes, Jason punched him.
Saturday evening Jason and Chris took Kevin into their
confidence. After Robby the waiter served dinner, Todd went
upstairs to work while the others headed out to Jimmy's Oasis.
Drawing Kevin apart, Jason said, "Chris and I'd like to talk to
you alone. I have an idea, but I might just be crazy."
After two beers at Jimmy's, Greg said he wanted to see the
park at night. Eric, Jeff, and Scott went along, leaving Chris,
Kevin, and Jason. When Jason had voiced his suspicions, Kevin
said, "I've been thinking along those same lines. Like you say,
you guys don't look alike at all, and why should you be spread
all over the map? But like Chris says, there must be a common
denominator." Kevin had been doing some research. "I know for a
fact that John Hayle did marry Erica Halstead and that she'd
inherited the Halstead oil money. I know that they had their
PhD's in physiology -- they got them from SUNY Albany -- and I
suspect John was gay. The reason I say that is he seems to have
been obsessed with guys jerking off. As far as Erica goes, I
haven't found out anything important yet."
Chris took the pitcher to the bar, returned with a refill,
and said, "We don't want to antagonize Greeley, because we all
like our jobs. I'm thinking that we should keep our ideas to
ourselves."
Kevin agreed, telling Chris, "For sure. I am interested in
your common-denominator idea, though. Todd's my best friend and
Jason's yours, so we know about them. How about if each of us
takes one of the other so-called brothers and gets to know him a
little bit better? I'd like to work on Mark since we're both
weightlifters. Maybe I'll check out Allentown tomorrow."
A coin toss paired Jason with Jeff, Chris with Greg. "I get
the klutz," Jason chuckled.
When the men had emptied the pitcher, they returned to the
Halstead Building, since Kevin wanted Jason and Chris to watch a
sample of John Hayle's jerk-off videos. In the library he
selected the one titled 'Brian.' On his way to the stairs, Kevin
asked Todd, "What happened to Connor?"
"He and Robby are out looking for girls," Todd replied.
In Todd's room, before he started the movie, Kevin said,
"The other ones I've watched have an interview before they get to
the smut. Hayle's assistant, a guy named Thad Kiley, asks the
performers personal questions."
Kiley posed far more personal questions than anybody but
Chris had ever asked Jason, including how often Brian stroked,
how long it took him to nut, and where he most often did it. One
particular question puzzled Jason; when Kiley asked if Brian had
beat a guy off, Brian said yes, although he'd earlier claimed to
be straight.
After watching the video, the Texans crossed the hall to
their room. Shedding his T-shirt, Jason said, "I wonder why he
lied about being straight."
As he unbuttoned his jeans, Chris answered, "He is straight.
Jerking off a guy isn't gay."
"You wouldn't do it," said Jason.
"Bet me," Chris challenged.
Before he took off his levis, Jason looked through his
wallet. He'd picked up ten twenties from the automated teller
machine, and he had seven left, but Chris was strange enough he
might spank Jason's monkey for a twenty, so he brought out a
single. "There's your bet," he told Chris.
Chris grinned, "Take off the rest of your clothes and lie
down. Come on. I paid that hooker in Dallas eighty bucks for a
hand job."
Jason didn't mind losing the dollar nearly as much as he
minded risking letting the proverbial genie out of the bottle, or
opening Pandora's box, depending on one's taste in classical
analogies. Still, declining Chris's dares in the past had earned
him the sobriquet 'gutless wonder,' a nickname he had risked a
great deal to get rid of, including riding the Dahl's stallion
bareback.
Dropping his pants, Jason asked, "So how do we do this? You
touch my dick and you win?"
"If I can't give you a woodie, you win," Chris answered.
Naked, Jason lay on his bed, Chris sat next to him, and
Jason thought the most anti-sexual thoughts he could imagine. As
he visualized the immense Ellie Sue Browder finger-fucking her
twat, he felt Chris grip his cock. It was no more exciting than
taking a physical. "You're going to lose," he told Chris.
Chris, however, had tricks up his sleeve. When Jason failed
to respond to his squeezing, he slid his thumb back and forth
across Jason's tip. Jason asked, "Where'd you learn to do that?"
"Denise Walker," Chris answered.
Chris could most likely have made Jason stiffen by massaging
his knob, but to guarantee victory, he also rubbed Jason's balls.
"Nice," Jason admitted.
"You shouldn't have told me you liked it," Chris said.
Chris had already won the dollar, so he could have quit, but
he didn't. As time ceased to have meaning, Chris continued the
jack-off, sometimes sliding his hand up and down Jason's prick,
sometimes kneading his tip, while always working his nutsac. When
the sparks in his cock screamed their warning, Jason said, "You
better quit or I'll cum."
Luckily, Chris paid no attention.

Sunday morning a new waiter named Ken served eggs benedict.
Jason sat with the Delaware men, hoping to discover some
similarity between Jeff and the other brothers. Watching Jeff
gobble his muffin, Jason asked, "Where did you guys go after you
left the Oasis?"
Scott answered, "My roomie wanted to watch some kind of
screechy concert."
Jeff swallowed and said, "Ludmilla Wegner was singing
Schubert. She's awesome."
Scott laughed, "Jeffster knows all about that kind of shit
'cause he's gay."

-- 1D --

(Mark plans a trip to Philadelphia, takes a nap, and drives to
New York.)

Jerking off could satisfy Mark's needs for only so long
before he needed a partner, and ever since going to work at the
college he had needed partners more frequently, due, he imagined,
to interacting with nude teens in the locker room, which occurred
five days a week, though not for much longer. Summer vacation was
five days away.
On Saturday Mark helped Jeremy move into his and Meg's new
apartment. Working with his brother-in-law fueled Mark's
cravings, but he didn't plan to beat his meat afterward; he hoped
to more completely satisfy his urges the next day. As they
carried a sleep sofa up the stairs, Jeremy asked, "How about
running down to the lake with us tomorrow?"
Mark answered, "I'd like to, but I'm heading to Philly."
Jeremy, clueless, laughed, "You ought to go out with the
local ladies. Try Molly again. Think of the money you'll save."
After they had emptied Mark's truck one last time, Jeremy
returned to his old apartment while Mark swung by campus; he had
left his playbook on his desk Friday night. In his office, as he
was collecting the book, next season's quarterback opened the
door. Mark greeted him, "Hey Ricky."
"Hey Coach," Ricky said. "I noticed your car parked, and I
wondered if me and the guys could come by your place after we
drop off our dates tonight."
Mark didn't need to leave early tomorrow, since Philadelphia
before late afternoon was a graveyard. "What time do you think
you'll be over?"
"Not too late," Ricky said. "Marty's girlfriend has to be
home before midnight." Saluting, he said, "Catch you later and
thanks."
Downtown, Mark bought two six-packs of Miller. Those, in
addition to what he already had in the refrigerator, should be
enough, assuming that only the regular foursome showed up. If
they brought Gary . . . . Just to be safe, Mark added one more
six-pack, spending money he should have been saving. At this
rate, he'd never move out of his folks' house.
Mark drove home, washed his pickup, and cleaned the living
room. For dinner he reheated a bowl of the stew his mom had made
yesterday, then watched four innings of the Phillies/Braves game.
If the boys planned to arrive around midnight, Mark would be
up until late, so a nap seemed advisable. He lay down, fell
asleep, and woke at eleven when his cell-phone rang. "Hello," he
yawned sleepily.
The caller said, "Hi Mark. This is Kevin Colton. We met a
couple weeks ago. I'm a friend of your brother, Todd Christian."
Kevin was more than a friend of Todd Christian. He was a
Class One-A fox as was Todd. "Sure I remember you," Mark said.
"What's going on?"
"I'm in New York again, and I've got a couple of ideas I
want to discuss," Kevin said. "Do you have any free time
tomorrow? I could run down there if you want, or we could meet
here at the Hayles'."
Kevin's invitation presented an opportunity; whereas Mark
had planned to look for a Philadelphia partner, a New Yorker
would work just as well; also, since Monday was Memorial Day, he
could sleep in the city and return the following morning. "I'll
be there by lunchtime," he said.
Ten minutes after Mark switched off his phone, the boys
arrived; Sean's date had had an earlier curfew than Marty's. As
Mark was handing out beer, Ted Gibson asked, "Are your folks out
of town for the weekend?"
"They're playing in a tournament over in Williamsport," Mark
answered.
"Cool," Sean Young laughed, his glazed expression suggesting
he'd been smoking something he shouldn't.
Designated driver Mike Foley declined a beer but accepted a
coke, asking, "Want to watch a Nikki Dials movie we rented? It's
supposed to be hot."
Though Mark had no interest in hetero-porn, he did enjoy
watching his team, particularly Sean, whose scalp glowed pink
through his blonde hair as the onscreen action turned torrid. Had
there been one more scene he would have cum in his pants, Mark
suspected.
When the movie ended, Mike broke up the party by saying he
had to leave. "Sorry but I promised my grandma I'd take her to
Father Fogarty's nine o'clock Mass," he explained.
"What a wuss," Sean said. He finished his beer, put the
empty bottle on the coffee table, and asked, "Is practice still
on for Monday?"
"Just a run-through, no pads," Mark answered.
Mike kicked Ricky's ankle and said, "Drain your beer, boy. I
need to get going."
"I think I'll hang out with Coach for a while and walk
home," Ricky answered, turning toward Mark, "as long as it's okay
with you." When the others had gone, Ricky used the bathroom,
grabbed two more Millers, and pulled up a chair alongside Mark's.
He asked, "How come you don't date?"
Mark gave the same response he gave his friends and
relatives, hinting at emotional scars. "I haven't got over my
last girlfriend," he said.
Casually, Ricky said, "That's bullshit, but I didn't stay to
argue with you. I've been wondering what it'd be like to be gay,
and I figure you're the guy with the answers."
"What makes you say that?"
Rick held up his forefinger. "One, Miss Jensen wanted you
bad, but you ditched her." He added two more fingers. "So did
Tanya King and Marie Olsen, both of whom I'd have dicked in a
heartbeat." Ricky added his little finger. "Plus, you look me
over the way I look over women. Is that enough reasons?"
Vowing to cover his future tracks better (the girls'
basketball coach wanted to date him, he knew), Mark said, "You're
dreaming."
Ricky grinned a dick-stiffening grin. "I'm not dreaming,
you're not straight, and maybe I'm not completely straight
either. Let me tell you a story." Last summer the same foursome
who had been at Mark's tonight had been camping near the base of
Elk Mountain. "It was hotter than fuck, so we were all sleeping
bare," Ricky said. "I woke up in the middle of the night, and
somebody was jacking me -- I'll bet it was Sean. Anyway, I didn't
want to wake up the other guys and it felt fairly extreme so I
lay there and enjoyed it."
"It must've been a pretty big tent," Mark said. "Did you
cum?"
"Like a volcano," Ricky answered. Standing, he said, "I'm
not surprised you don't seem more enthused, but give it some
thought. You're not that much older than I am -- four years, five
at the most." Mark said four. "I don't get laid as much as I tell
people, so I'd be a fairly dependable partner."

Sunday morning, after a fitful night's fantasies, Mark left
for New York. The ninety-minute drive gave him time to consider
that while connecting with Ricky might be tempting, it might also
be suicidal. Football coaches had no business messing around with
their players.
In the city Mark found a parking space two blocks from the
Halstead Building. At the Hayles' he ate lunch alone with Kevin;
everybody else had gone out. As the men worked their way through
oversize cheeseburgers, Kevin said, "From what Greeley told us,
you, Todd, Jason, Greg, and Jeff have the same parents. I'm
interested in the old question of environment versus heredity, so
I'm curious about what you guys have in common and what you
don't. Where did you graduate from college?"
"I went to Westhampton Jaycee for two years and transferred
to Temple," Mark answered. "Where did you go?"
Kevin answered that he had attended Cal Poly in San Luis
Obispo. "From what you saw of your brothers, would you say you
were like them?"
"No more than I'm like the man off the street. If we'd all
met at a party, I'd never have guessed there was any
relationship."
While Kevin was talking to Mark, Todd returned from Long
Island. He had been in Jamaica, he said, meeting with Greeley.
Pouring himself a cup of coffee, Todd asked Mark, "Where will you
be working when school's out?"
Mark answered, "Selling clothing at Allentown Dry Goods. Its
kind of a general store a friend of my mom runs."
Todd asked if he would like to make more money working
construction. When Mark replied that he would, Todd said,
"Greeley's lined up some work for us. What do you know how to
do?"
Mark shrugged, "Basic carpentry, nothing fancy. I couldn't
cut a roof, for example."
"The Plotkin project isn't going to need any roofs cut
unless Greeley decides to tear down the whole thing and start
over, which isn't out of the question. I'm trying to convince him
that with the money he could make from salvage and the labor he'd
save, starting from scratch would be cheaper. It's not the whole
building -- just three bedrooms, two baths, and a kitchen."

-- 1E --

(Scott visits the Metropolitan Museum of Art, swims at Rockaway
Beach, and eats Chinese food.)

People who met Jeff for the first time considered him shy.
Scott, his lifelong best friend, thought him loquacious. Today,
he had lectured non-stop from the time they had entered the
museum until now, as they drank a cafeteria soda. Given an
opportunity to insert a comment of his own, Scott said, "I liked
the Egyptian rooms best, especially that temple. Where do you
want to go next?"
Jeff answered, "I think we ought to quit for the day. We'll
be here all summer, and it's better to take someplace as big as
this a little at a time -- otherwise everything blurs -- plus
Greeley's coming over and we need to get the money part
straightened out."
"We know you'll be making three times what I will," Scott
said.
"Just so between us we can save eight-thousand dollars,"
Jeff said.
The men needed $8,000 in order to pay off the school loans
for their freshman year and to avoid taking out additional loans
their sophomore year; their scholarships took care of their
tuition but not room and board. Since they would be working a
total of twelve weeks, they needed to save approximately $650 per
week, a goal considered impossible before meeting Greeley.
After drinking their sodas, the Delawareans took their time
returning to the Hayles' apartment. They stopped to view the fern
garden, to watch an organ grinder's monkey, and to admire a
double-parked Aston Martin. Back at the Hayles' they joined Kevin
and Mark in the living room, a vast room that would be great for
a party but otherwise useless. The room had no furniture except
two couches with matching chairs stuck in a corner.
Kevin asked, "What have you guys been up to?"
"We went through a little bit of the Met," Jeff answered.
"Has Greeley showed up?"
"No, but we're expecting him anytime."
While awaiting the lawyer, Scott and Jeff fixed themselves
sandwiches. Smearing mustard on a slice of rye bread, Jeff asked
if Scott had enjoyed the museum. Scott replied that he had, but
that he was glad they had left when they did. "I was feeling a
little bit dizzy," he said.
Greeley arrived about one, and he seemed surprised to see
Mark. As far as wages went, he assured Scott and Jeff they could
easily save $650 a week. "After all," he pointed out, "you'll be
making good money, and you'll have no expenses to speak of. You
won't be charged for living here, and your food will be
included."
Greeley spent most of his visit in conference with Todd, who
had just returned from the project. Meanwhile, Kevin and Mark
discussed their weightlifting routines, agreeing that they would
have to find a gym locally. Greeley caught the topic of their
conversation and said, "You'll want to try Victor's. It's on
Seventy-Sixth, between Central Park West and Columbus, the north
side of the street."
When Greeley had gone, Kevin said he wanted to try an
experiment. "Like I was telling Mark, it makes sense that
brothers would have more in common that men who aren't brothers,
so I was thinking that if all of us -- all of us meaning the five
brothers and their five friends -- took an identical test, the
brothers' answers should be more alike than the friends'
answers."
"That makes sense," Jeff agreed, "but I wouldn't want to
answer questions like Mr. Hayle asked the guys in his videos."
"Nothing like that," Kevin promised, handing each man
stapled-together sheets of paper. "This asks things like how
often you brush your teeth and how many cups of coffee you drink
in the morning and whether you use sugar and cream."
Jeff and Scott took the innocuous test in the dining room,
returned the papers to Kevin, and decided to go to the beach.
Upstairs, as they changed into their swimsuits, Scott asked, "Why
wouldn't you want to take a test like Mr. Hayle gave his guinea
pigs?"
"Kevin might think I was weird," Jeff answered.
As they rode the subway out to Long Island, Scott considered
Jeff's answer. He nudged his roommate's ribs, saying, "There's
nothing weird about you. Everything about you that way is . . .
mm . . . average." Scott had almost said boring.
To reach Rockaway Beach the men took the A Line to Rockaway
Park. They walked past where a sign said Playland had been, found
a spot big enough for two towels, and sat down. As they observed
a pair of bicyclists dodging tourists, Jeff asked, "Would you
have answered Mr. Hayle's questions?"
Scott answered, "Why not?"
Due to the crowds Jeff and Scott had to paddle past the
shallows before they could swim unobstructed. They floated out
with the tide, flipped around, and raced back to their starting
point. They repeated the exercise twice before going ashore,
gathering their belongings, and heading back toward the train. By
the time they reached the Halstead building, they had spent three
minutes travelling for every one on the beach.
With the exception of Todd, everyone else had gone out,
Kevin/Mark to investigate Victor's Gym, Jason/Chris to the Bronx
to see the Botanical Gardens, Greg/Eric to the American Museum of
Natural History. "Eric wanted to check out the shark exhibit,"
Todd said.
Jeff asked, "What time are we eating?"
"Greeley's taking us out someplace. He made reservations for
seven-thirty," Todd answered.
Jeff and Scott went up to their room. Shedding his swim
suit, Jeff asked, "How about if you take first shower?" When
Scott asked why Jeff cared who showered first, Jeff said, "I'm
feeling the need. Did you bring your cigar box?"
"It's in my suitcase," Scott answered.
Although Scott would later rationalize his behavior by
telling himself he wanted to compare Jeff's technique with that
of the men in Hayle's videos, Sunday afternoon he acted from
instinct. As he was preparing to step into the shower, he
hesitated, then tiptoed back to the door. When he opened it no
more than an inch, he glimpsed Jeff greasing his cock.
Scott had known Jeff literally all of his life. Even when
they'd lived in different cities they'd kept in touch daily via
e-mail, on weekends via the telephone. They had discussed jerking
off, but only in the most general terms, so it had never occurred
to Scott that Jeff might do it standing, a position Scott found
uncomfortable, yet that's just what Jeff did, so Scott did it
too, but for Scott, matching Jeff's rhythm proved difficult since
he hadn't greased up. Only when he began oozing the sex-juice he
ordinarily hated did his hand slide as smoothly as Jeff's.
Scott considered it auspicious that Jeff, like Scott, needed
speed to get off (whereas many of Hayle's performers launched at
the slow speed they'd begun with). Speed vis-a-vis jerking off
equalled noise; Jeff's allowed Scott to pop when he did
unnoticed.

Greeley asked the Hayles' sons and their friends to meet him
at Wa Ling's in Chinatown on the Lower East Side. The ten men
split two taxis, Scott riding in the back seat of the second
between Kevin and Mark. At the restaurant, the doorman turned
them over to the host who led them to a small private dining
room. There, the men sat around a formica-topped table, and two
waiters brought rice beer.
Greeley, at the head of the table, said, "I'm so pleased you
all could join me this evening because what I have to say
concerns every one of you to a greater or a lesser extent. Todd
tells me that the best we can hope for is a one-month delay
before we begin restoring the servants quarters, but now that
I've got you all in one place, I can't see sending you away and
then calling you back, so I've been scratching my head wondering
what you can do while we wait."
Jason asked, "Why can't we start for a month?"
"Permits," Todd answered. "We have to go through the State
Historical Board."
"So as I was saying," Greeley continued, "I believe I've
lined up a few challenging ventures that will optimize your
experience. I'd like Greg and Eric, for example, to work in a
restaurant we're in the midst of opening. One week from tonight,
we'd have been eating there rather than here." Jeff would work
with Scott in a bookstore the Halstead Trust owned, Kevin with
Todd moving the permits along. Jason's landscaping job could
progress undelayed; permits weren't required to plant bushes. "As
far as Mark is concerned, I haven't come up with anything quite
yet, but I was wondering if you mightn't help Jason."
"I'd like that," Mark said.
For dinner Greeley ordered a seven-course meal that included
the usual suspects from stir fry to won tons to sticky white
rice. For dessert, the waiter brought a fruit platter featuring
strawberries, peaches, plums, and the juiciest nectarines Scott
had eaten since last summer. Wiping his mouth, he overheard Todd
asking Kevin, "What are you doing tonight?"
Kevin answered, "Mark wants to show you and me a bar in the
Village."