Spuds

Mike and Trevor have been each other’s lifeline, confidante, and partner in “mischief” for as long as either of them can remember.  When Trevor asks his best bud to open a business with him, Mike quickly agrees, bringing his carefree and somewhat reckless attitude with him to work every day.  The much more mischievous of the two, he secretly advertises that their business includes doing “odd” jobs.  Trevor knows that Mike is up to something, but he is his best friend, so he overlooks his buddy’s wayward ways.  Trevor is waiting and watching, however, for Mike’s carefree ways and mischief making to go a little too far and get him into something that even he may not be able to get his good buddy out of.  

Excerpt:
Mike started up the old truck that the two guys had named Spuds because its color reminded them of the potatoes they had spent much of their childhood digging from the rich soil that was found in their home state of Idaho.  The old truck chugged and sputtered its way toward the million dollar homes that dotted the first manmade lake in the city.  He drove past five of the gorgeous mansions before he came to Mr. Petrowski’s grand estate.

“I’m Mike.  You called for some help?” 

“Yes, Mike.  Thanks for coming on such short notice.  Come on in.” 

Mike hadn’t missed the man’s stare.  He was well aware of his sex appeal.  “Are these the pictures, sir?” 

“Yes, and it’s Charles.  Let’s have a drink first, shall we?” 

“Sure.  Beer, if you’ve got it,” Mike said.  “You been in the city very long?” 

“Just moved in, Mike.  I have businesses on the East Coast, but I like the weather here.”

Mike tried to look interested, but he had never been interested in his own business and he certainly wasn’t interested in someone else’s entrepreneurial efforts.  He was sure that this man had asked him to come all the way out here to his grand mansion on the lake for only one thing, and that was not hanging pictures.  Mike had a solid reputation for being good in the sack, but this guy actually had pictures to hang.  He finished his beer under the watchful eyes of Charles Petrowski and set the empty can on the table. 

“Well, shall we get started?” Mike offered, standing up.  He headed for the pictures, but Charles grabbed his arm. 

“Uh, we can do that later.  Can I get you something else, another beer?” 

Mike was confused.  Was this man shy?  Maybe he’s like Trevor, confident in business, but shy when it came to his sexual desires.  Well, here goes, he told himself.

Mike turned and faced Charles and slowly put his arms around the somewhat unsure man, sliding his hands underneath the man’s shirt.  Charles gasped, and he closed his eyes with Mike’s touch.  Mike pressed his body against Charles’ body, and he could feel what the man had to offer.  Not bad, he thought.  Not bad at all.  Mike ran his fingers through the man’s hair and slid his tongue lightly along the man’s lips.  He slid his hands down along his back and in one swift movement he ran the zipper in the front of the man’s pants down its track.  Charles was panting with excitement.