An Officer and His Gentleman (11 page)

"Just remember one thing," Brody said, as he climbed out of the back seat, "That ass will always belong to me."
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When Chance awoke and looked into the mirror early the next morning, he found a dark purple love bite on the right side of his neck—long and thin, shaped like the state of Florida. He frowned and reached for a box of Band-Aids under the bathroom sink to cover it up. The old man would go crazy if he saw it, and Chance couldn't lie about a love bite—he couldn't say it was a bug bite or a bruise. Brody's teeth marks were still there. His legs were sore and he had trouble walking, too. They felt tight and stiff when he leaned over for the Band-Aids. And when he looked into the cracked, fulllength mirror behind the bathroom door, there were a few dark bruises on the backs of his legs: serious black-and-blue marks from the pounding he'd taken in Brody's back seat the night before. But more than that, there were two large red handprints on both sides of his ass. He arched his back a little and smiled; it was as if he could still feel Brody's erection in his body.

He got dressed and went down the back staircase slowly, then out the back door and into the barn. Before he did anything else that morning, he wanted to see if there were any squirrels in the traps. And sure enough, there were four brand-new squirrels trapped in cages and barely moving because they were so frightened. He shook his head when he saw the poor things trapped like that, but he smiled when he took each cage out back, opened the trap doors and set them free again. He didn't want to spray their tails that morning; it would have made Dan suspicious. He had to wait a few days so Dan would think the squirrels he'd driven to upstate New York had actually traveled back on their own accord.

When the empty traps were back in the barn and reset, Chance went into the kitchen to prepare his special for the day. Because he wanted some free time to make a few notes for the recipe competition, he decided to do one of his classic specials, a simple mac-and-cheese that everyone loved. Betty Shack had pleaded with him to share his secret ingredient more than once: "There's something in there that's different, but I can't put my finger on it. Please tell me." Chance only smiled and told her he'd die with his secret. She never would have guessed that what made
his
mac-and-cheese stand out from all the others was plain yellow mustard and ground nutmeg—pre-ground, right from the can. No need to grate it with a pretentious tool.

The most important ingredient, the one Chance included in all his recipes, was love: the love of food and the ability to love the food enough to know how to choose the perfect combination of ingredients that made a recipe stand out. Ah, he'd seen too many cooks try to follow a recipe that never turned out very well. They didn't have the love, and everything they cooked tasted like sawdust.

So when the large pans of mac-and-cheese were baking in the oven, he began to work on his presentation for the Food Network. Though he still wasn't sure he'd even be selected— that was random luck, and he wasn't lucky—he figured it was best to be prepared. The lasagna bolognese was simple enough to set up, but he wanted to show the people at the Food Network that it was a recipe the entire family could participate in making. Small children could mix and knead the pasta dough while an adult arranged the bolognese sauce and the buchamel sauce. Then, when all the ingredients were prepared, the kids could help layer the lasagna pan—there really wasn't a wrong way to put it together. He smiled as he envisioned young children with spots of flour on their faces helping adults create something wonderful for the family meal. He missed that living at Dan's market: There was no family and no love.

He thought it was important for young children to learn how to get around in a kitchen, too. Cooking was fun, but it was also serious business. Young children had to understand that only adults could handle sharp tools, and older kids had to know how to use sharp tools safely. Chance made notes on the lasagna recipe, carefully imagining how children might react during the cooking process: the animated expressions on their faces when taught how to crack an egg or mix a bowl of cake frosting, or the way they smiled when they licked a cake batter bowl.

Most of all, Chance wanted people to understand that the ingredients for basic family-oriented recipes, whether it be lasagna bolognese or macaroni and cheese, did not have to cost a small fortune. When he watched cooking show hosts on TV, there were times he shook his head and squeezed the sofa pillow in protest. They used unreasonably expensive ingredients, like saffron and truffles. Most families watching couldn't afford to buy things like that—they weren't cooking in expensive restaurants. He even threw the sofa pillow across the room when one show host enforced using "the best cocoa money can buy. Always use the most expensive ingredients when baking a chocolate cake." She convinced the audience they had to buy an outrageously expensive imported cocoa, when Chance knew full well that regular old Hershey's would have done the job. He'd learned, through experience, that using the most expensive ingredients money can buy is nothing more than hype and myth in most cases. It was all about the love of food and how you incorporated the ingredients that really mattered, not how much they cost.

When Dan walked into the market that morning, he didn't bang his fist on the counter or bellow orders as usual. Though he wasn't actually smiling, he'd found the squirrel traps empty and all was well with the world. But he did stare at Chance for a moment when he saw the Band-Aid on his neck. "What's-a wrong with your neck,
you
?"

Chance was leaning into the deli case and turning the potato salad over so it would appear fresh. He looked up and said, "I cut it shaving this morning. No big deal." But he bit his bottom lip and prayed the bruises on his ass would go away by the time he had to go upstairs and walk around naked.

"Ah," Dan said. "I'm going out to get new tires on the truck today. I'll be back by lunchtime." He didn't bother to ask how bad the cut was or if he needed stitches. Chance hadn't bled to death, and that was apparently good enough for Dan.

Sarah walked through the front door at nine. She smiled at Chance, so wide that he saw all her teeth from across the market. He had just finished slicing a quarter-pound of Swiss cheese, extra thin, for Mae Conklin and he was wrapping it up. Mae was a soft-spoken, mousey woman in her seventies, the last so-called "old maid" left in town. He handed the cheese to Mae and followed her to the cash register so he could check Sarah's drawer. When he looked at Sarah, he pressed his palm to his throat and stepped back. She was wearing a very low-cut, tight black T-shirt that morning: Her large tits were busting out. The black shirt created a severe contrast against her pale white skin. At the bottom of her neck, and just above her ample line of cleavage, there were two large, obvious love bites. The one on her neck was the size of a quarter; the one on her bosom was two inches long and an inch wide, with small red teeth marks.

Chance decided to ignore the marks. He opened the cash drawer and started counting the money as Sarah rang up Mae Conklin's Swiss cheese. But Mae leaned back when she noticed the offensive love bite on Sarah's neck, and she actually gasped when she saw the larger one on Sarah's bosom. Poor Mae—she started to rock back and forth in her brown vinyl mules, and her bottom lip quivered nervously when she reached into her little brown change purse for money. She tried to look away when she handed Sarah three one-dollar bills and thirty-nine cents in exact change (older women
always
had exact change), but Sarah's big tits were practically in her face. There was a small crumpled piece of blue foil left over from an old pack of Life Savers attached to one penny, but Mae didn't bother to remove it like she normally would have. Sarah took the money and Mae grabbed the Swiss cheese and ran out the front door without even asking for a bag.

Chance closed the cash drawer and said, "Why don't you just wear a sign that says, 'I got fucked last night'?"
"Hey," she said, loud and nasal.. "I had fun. Mike played with my tits for so long I thought they were going to fall off! And if you think these marks are bad, you should see the ones in other places. He bit me so hard down there I thought I'd scream." Then she reached for the top button on her jeans and pulled it open.
"No, please," he said. "I'll take your word for it." The last thing he wanted to see was a love bite on Sarah's ass, and he didn't want to hear any of the details either.
Sarah raised her right eyebrow and put one hand on her hip. "Don't get so high and mighty with me. I see you're wearing a Band-Aid on your neck this morning."
"I cut myself shaving." He smiled and left her so he could get back to work. Moving to the deli counter, it occurred to him that he could still feel Brody's penis in his body; he could still feel the fullness and power. He grinned at a large barrel filled with long sticks of pepperoni. Then he took a deep breath, smoothed out his apron and set about re-organizing the spice shelf.
Later that day, as Dan made him move all the heavy produce stands from one side of the market to the other, Chance fell back against a tall metal shelf stacked with pretzels and potato chips. He didn't hurt himself, because it wasn't an accident. He'd been planning all day for a fall under Dan's watchful eye, so that when he removed his clothes later that night he'd have a good excuse for all the bruises on his ass and legs.
And it worked. When he took off his clothes and walked past Dan that night, the old man clutched the arms of his chair and leaned forward. "That was some fall this afternoon,
you
." He rubbed his chin and ran his fingertips over Chance's ass. "Some good bruises back there, but it's good you didn't really hurt yourself. Then you would have cost me money."
"I'm fine," Chance said. "They look worse than they are." He shrugged and sat down on the sofa to watch TV.
He was dying to watch the Food Network to see if they would mention anything about the recipe competition, but Dan wanted to watch a show on the Discovery Channel about monkeys. He loved to sit in his chair, scratch his balls, and watch monkeys; he thought they were funny. It was followed by a show about dwarfism, and Dan's eyes were glued to the screen. At eleven o'clock he scratched his balls, lifted his leg and farted, and slowly stood to hobble back to his bedroom. He said he had a headache. "I'm going to take a sleeping pill tonight."
Chance remained on the sofa for another half-hour, but he couldn't find a comfortable spot. He moved from one side of the old leather sofa to the other and kept sighing out loud. Glancing at the candlestick on the coffee table, he thought of Brody. When a chef on the Food Network began to prepare a boiled dinner of kielbasa and sauerkraut, his penis started to grow. The old man was snoring so loudly he could barely hear the TV chef speak. All he saw were the guy's great hands holding a mammoth kielbasa, and Chance's hole ached for more dick. Finally, he stood up and crossed back to his bedroom to get his car keys and a clean white apron.
It was dark out. The sky had been overcast all day. The car was facing in a downhill position. He slowly inched his way out of the gravel driveway in neutral. He sat behind the wheel in his bare feet, wearing nothing but a white chef's apron. When he was far enough away from the market, he started the car and clicked the light switch. He squeezed the steering wheel tightly and took a deep breath. Brody might get mad at him for showing up unannounced and wearing practically nothing, but he needed to take that chance. He needed Brody to fill him up again.
When he pulled up to the big old house, the front light over the door was on and Brody was sitting on the veranda in a rocking chair. When Chance opened the door and stepped out of the car, Brody put his hands on his hips and walked down the front steps. He was wearing the same sweatpants that Chance had washed. His feet were bare and he wasn't wearing a shirt. He took one look at Chance in the apron, and rubbed his chin. "I was expecting you tonight," he said.
Chance smiled. "You were not. You were just sitting there holding your dick because you couldn't sleep." He was younger than Brody, and by no means as worldly, but he didn't want to come off looking like an obvious sex-starved slut. Sure, that's what he was, but he didn't want to be too obvious about it.
"That's not true," Brody said. "I knew you'd be back tonight. I knew you'd want more dick and I've been sitting here waiting. I expected you at least two hours ago." He laughed and tugged on his pork sword a few times. "You like it. I can see it all over your face. You want more of what you had last night."
Chance didn't want to argue the point; he knew he'd lose. Brody sounded so smug and sure of himself. Was he that transparent? Did Brody think he was some sort of a sex maniac now? He was beginning to wish he'd just stayed home and jerked off with a long pepperoni up his ass. But instead, he put his hands on his hips and said, "I just couldn't sleep is all."
Brody said, "C'mon, baby. Let's walk down to the boat docks and go for a midnight ride." He put his arm around Chance's waist. "I'm glad you came. I really wasn't sure if you would, but I'm glad you did."
They walked down several steep flights of stone stairs in the darkness. The back of the white apron was wide open and Brody's palm rested on Chance's naked ass the entire time. When they reached the dock, though it was dark, Chance took one look at the boat and his mouth fell open. "This is
your
boat? That's a seventeen-foot, 1954 Chris Craft Rocket." He wasn't exactly an expert on boats, but growing up in the Lakeland area had caused him to notice which boats were considered the best. He walked over to the side of the boat and ran his hand across the smooth dark wood and whistled. The long bench seats, both front and back, were covered with rich black leather and the steering wheel was pure white. In gold italic letters, it read "
Hearts O'Palm"
near the tail end on the side facing the dock.
"It was my father's. He called her
Hearts O'Palm,
" Brody said, "He loved her. I have to give my mother credit for one thing: She's maintained her all these years in perfect condition."
He untied the boat from the docks and jumped inside. The steering wheel was on the right, and he slid behind it while Chance held the boat in place. When he turned the key in the ignition and the engine turned over, there was a soft, even gurgle that soon settled into a hollow, almost throaty, roar. Chance smiled and ran his palm over the wood again. It sounded like the boat was actually purring.
"Give her a quick shove and then jump in," Brody said.
When Chance was in the front seat, Brody slowly pulled the throttle into reverse and they backed out. Then he turned on the lights, slipped her into forward and headed out toward main lake at a slow, creeping pace. The official rule was you couldn't go faster than five miles per hour after dark, but they were only going out far enough so Brody could turn off the engine, drop anchor, and bend Chance over the side of the boat. With one hand on the steering wheel, Brody lifted his arm and rested it across the top of the seat. He tugged on Chance's ear a few times and said, "Get next to me and lean in."
But Chance had a better idea. He went down across the seat and pressed his face between Brody's legs. His sweatpants still smelled like detergent. Chance chewed on the fabric covering Brody's soft penis. Brody spread his legs a little wider and leaned back while he continued to steer. They passed by another boat cruising just as slowly as they were and Brody gave a thumbs-up to the other driver. When they were out of sight, Brody clutched the steering wheel with one hand and pulled his sweatpants down to his knees with the other. Chance wet his lips, opened his mouth and swallowed the soft penis. He gently rolled it around his tongue a few times while Brody closed his eyes and moaned. When he pressed his tongue against the bottom and started to suck, it began to grow inside his mouth. He took deep breaths through his nose, and in no time at it was a full erection hitting the back of his throat. His cheeks indented and his head went up and down and in counter-clockwise circles. Brody kicked off his sweatpants and spread his legs as wide as he could beneath the steering wheel.
They cruised like this for about twenty minutes, until Brody turned off the motor and the boat started to drift. Chance lifted his head and wiped his swollen lips. "Why did we stop?" He looked around and saw a few other boats not far away. The boat next to them was so close that he could actually reach out and touch the bow with an oar. There must have been at least five boats spread out around them; but none were moving. He reached down, grabbed Brody's balls and started to massage. He whispered, "It's dark, but this doesn't look very private."
Brody smiled. "I have to get up and drop anchor. This is a small cove where people come to play around. No one will care what we're doing here, because they are all doing the same thing." He laughed and stood up on the seat. He was naked and you could see his erection bouncing in the shadows. Then he jumped into the back seat and reached into a small compartment for the anchor. He tossed it overboard and tied the rope to the side of the boat. There was moaning and squeals coming from the boat directly next to them on the right. Then a good-looking guy in the back seat sat up for a moment and waved when he saw Chance staring. Chance gulped and waved back. When he looked at the boat to the right of them, a white speed boat with black stripes, he saw three good-looking young guys talking to each other, drinking beer and laughing. He couldn't make out what they were actually saying, but he could hear their deep, drunken voices. In all the years he'd lived in the Lakeland area, no one had ever mentioned this place to him before. He wondered if Sarah had ever been there.
"Come back here," Brody said. He was sitting in the middle of the back seat. His legs were spread and his dick was resting against his stomach.
He hesitated. "What about the guys on that boat over there? They can see everything we are doing." He slumped down in the front seat and started to bite his fist.
"They're cool," Brody said. "They probably just want to get a cheap thrill is all. Besides, they can't see that much from over there."
Chance's heart began to race. It felt like an itch in his body that started at the opening of his anus and went all the way up to his lungs, an itch that needed to be scratched very soon. He jumped over the front seat and sat on Brody's lap. Brody grabbed him by the waist and pressed Chance's hand on his shoulder for support. Then Chance spit into his palm of his other hand, wrapped it around Brody's dick, and pressed the head to his pink opening. He spread his legs and arched his back. When the head was inside, he pressed his other hand on Brody's strong shoulder and slowly sat back until the entire erection was buried in his body. It hurt for a split second, but it was good pain. Then he closed his eyes and kissed Brody on the mouth. The deeper his tongue went, the tighter he squeezed his ass against Brody's dick. Brody held his waist tightly and pressed down hard.
"Are you going to fuck me again?" Chance asked, playfully.
"Do you want me to? Do you want dick tonight? Do you want me to spread those legs as wide as they will go?" Brody asked, then spanked him on the ass a few times.
"Yes, fuck me," Chance whispered, making slow, circular motions with his ass.
Chance didn't notice that the guys in the boat next to them had stopped talking. He tossed his head back, closed his eyes and his arched back as Brody held his waist. But Brody didn't buck his hips; he let Chance do all that work this time. And Chance rode it so hard and so fast the boat started to rock. Then the back end crept closer to the boat with the young guys drinking beer. Oone of the guys looked at Brody and called, "Hey buddy, can we get some of that ass too? I've never seen an ass move like that one. There's three horny top guys over here with nothing to fuck." His voice was deep and throaty and his words were slurred: He was obviously very drunk.
Brody said, "Sorry, guys, it's all mine." Then he laughed and slapped Chance on the ass a few times for them.
Chance stopped moving; he sat back and Brody's dick went all the way up. He looked over and saw the other guys watching him. A big football player type kneeled on the front seat and tugged at his erection, a thin guy with a goatee in the back seat held his own, and another who looked like Tom Cruise was sitting on the edge of the boat, with his legs dangling over the side, playing with his balls. "What the fuck is this?" Chance asked Brody.
"Those guys want to take turns tagging your ass," he said. "They only want to get off. Don't freak out, baby. It's a compliment. You wanna do it?"
Chance wasn't sure how he felt about all this. "You'd be okay with that? With three guys fucking me?"
The guy who looked like Tom Cruise shouted, "C'mon, man. We don't wanna marry him. We just want to take turns nailing him." Then he looked at the other two and they all shouted, "Yes," in very deep voices, at the same time.
"Actually, I think it's kind of hot," Brody said. "This kind of thing doesn't happen often and what they do to you has nothing to do with how we feel about each other. So if you really want to do this, it's fine with me." He slapped Chance on the ass. "And think about it, how often do you actually get four top guys begging for your ass?"
Chance saw that Brody's eyes were wide and he was breathing faster. Just talking about it seemed to make his dick even harder inside his ass. "I'm game," Chance said finally. "As long as these guys all wear condoms."
Brody smiled, and then he asked the Tom Cruise guy, "You dudes have condoms?"
The guy reached into his back pocket and pulled out a handful of rubbers. He waved them and said, "I'll toss you a rope and we can tie the boats together."
A moment later, the boats were tied together and two guys were pulling Chance into the other boat. Brody remained in his own boat, holding his rock-solid erection, watching Chance lean over the back seat and spread his legs. The guy who looked like Tom Cruise pulled off his jeans, his shoes and his socks, and he held his very large, erect penis in his left hand and stared at Chance's smooth, naked body. He bit his bottom lip and started jerking while the guy with the goatee pulled down his zipper and covered his dick with a condom. When Chance spread his legs and arched his back, the guy shoved his dick all the way in with one hard thrust. Chance closed his eyes and opened his mouth when the guy started fucking. He wasn't as big as Brody, but Chance started backing into it anyway. The boat began to rock and the other two guys kneeled on the sidelines and jerked their dicks while Chance got fucked. The one who looked like Tom Cruise kept whispering, "Fucking hot ass ... fuck that hot ass."