An Officer And His Gentleman

by Ryan Field

  A moment later, Chance carefully stepped into the blazing hot shower wearing nothing but the red stilettos. Brody wrapped both hands under his arms and squeezed his chest hard. He pulled Chance back against his body and held him tightly while searing, steamy water drenched his body. The old tin shower stall seemed a bit flimsy when he spread his legs and pressed his ass up to Brody's erection; the high heels scratched against the floor.

  "These shoes might get ruined in here,” Chance whispered, pressing his ass hard against Brody's cock.

  Brody squeezed his chest, and said, “I don't fucking care. I'll buy you new ones."

  When Brody slid his dick up and down Chance's ass crack, the tin floor creaked and dented inward like a disposable aluminum roasting pan. Brody squeezed his chest tighter and started to pound into his ass crack; he stretched his arms up to the tin ceiling and arched his back. Then Brody reached for a bar of soap with his right hand. He slowly ran it all over Chance's body: under his arms, below his balls and around his erection, and then up and down his ass. He shoved the bar of soap into the opening and started to scrub. He polished and cleaned with the side of his hand, then shoved a soapy finger inside Chance's hole and cleaned some more. Chance's mouth fell open and hot water dripped down his lips. He turned his head to the side so he wouldn't choke on the water while he moaned and gasped.

  Then Brody placed the bar of soap back on the shelf, and Chance reached back for his rod. He was about to go down on his knees to thank Brody for cleaning his ass so well, but Brody whispered, “Keep standing, bitch. I'm gonna lick that pussy hole now.” And then he went down on his knees and grabbed both sides of Chance's round ass. Chance's eyes widened. While the water flooded Brody's face, he spread Chance's ass apart and stuck out his tongue. He licked from the bottom of Chance's sweet, long crack all the way up to the top a few times, and then he shoved it directly into his hole and started to circle the opening with the tip of his tongue. Brody squeezed and grabbed his ass cheeks as if he were shaping a meat loaf.

  Chance threw his head back and begged for more. “Oh yes ... don't stop.” He spread his legs so wide one of the red high heels went outside of the shower stall.

  When Brody stopped licking, he stood up and grabbed Chance by the waist. He pulled hard and shoved him up against the back of the shower stall; he actually lifted him off the ground for a moment to maneuver him in the right position. Chance had been with Brody enough times by then to know that he was beyond the point of foreplay and now the only thing he cared about was getting inside and getting off. So he leaned forward and pressed his palms against the tin stall so he could submit to Brody's strength completely, then arched his back and spread his legs. He stood on his tiptoes and Brody pressed the head of his prick to Chance's bud. It was already numb and relaxed and ready to open wide from all the tongue action. The big dick slipped into his body without so much as a jerk or a hint of pain, and Brody nailed his ass to the tin wall. Chance stood a little higher on his tiptoes and backed into Brody's dick, and they fell into the same waltz rhythm Chance had come to know and anticipate: one, two, three ... one, two, three. On the count of one Brody went deep and smacked into his ass and Chance backed into the big, wide thing as hard as he could. Brody whispered, “That's it, bitch,” then he spanked his bare ass so hard his ears started to pound.

  "Fuck me, man,” Chance whispered. His mouth was open and his tongue was hanging out. He couldn't wait to see the red marks on his ass after this pounding session.

  "Oh yeah,” Brody said. “I'm gonna fuck my little high-heeled bitch ... I'm gonna shove my dirty dick all the way up his hole and fuck his brains out."

  "Harder,” Chance shouted. “Harder and deeper, man. You feel so huge."

  Brody's breathing grew heavier and he began to pant. He placed his palms above Chance's hands and pinned his entire body to the shower stall. The side of Chance's face rested on the tin. He opened his mouth and took one of Brody's large fingers inside and began to suck it. Brody fucked more rapidly—the tin wall dented inward and Chance's dick rubbed alongside it. Brody shouted, “Here it comes, bitch ... I'm gonna breed that pussy ass again,” and then he deposited his come in Chance's hole. He bucked hard a few times and grunted like an overworked horse. Chance reached down, jerked his own dick a few times, and exploded all over the tin wall. When Brody started to fuck slowly so he could squeeze out a few more drops, Chance's hand was still on his dick. He jerked it again and came a second time, with a less intense orgasm that produced a few more small pearls of white cream.

  He let go of his dick and sank back into Brody's warm body while water splashed on his face. Brody was still buried inside and he was rocking his hips in slow, circular motions. “I missed you, baby,” Brody said. He stuck his tongue into Chance's mouth and kissed him so hard, the back of his head hit the wall and the soap fell off the shelf.

  They fell into bed soaking wet a moment later and took a two-hour nap. When Chance opened his eyes, his head was resting on Brody's wide chest and he was holding Brody's cock in the palm of his hand. The wet red stilettos were still on his feet, too. He slid under the covers, put his head between Brody's legs, and sucked the penis into his mouth. Brody smelled damp and soapy and clean. His cock was soft, but the moment he pressed his tongue against the shaft, it started to grow inside his mouth. Brody yawned and spread his legs, then rammed his hips into Chance's face. When he saw the red high heels sticking out from beneath the covers, his dick grew even harder. Chance sucked with a smooth, even tempo and closed his eyes, jerking his own dick at the same time. It didn't take long for Brody to release another stream of fervor into his mouth. Chance gulped a few times and swallowed back, then jerked his own stick with Brody still in his mouth until he blew a load all over Brody's hairy legs.

  When the dick finally fell from his mouth, he rested his head on Brody's chest again and sighed. Brody smiled and reached for his ass. He squeezed it a few times and said, “That was nice, baby."

  Chance smiled and reached for Brody's balls so he could gently massage them. But eventually, his smile faded. “I have to get up and get dressed now."

  "Where are you going?” Brody asked. “Sarah said when you walked out of the market, the old man told you not to come back."

  "I have to go back,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “I don't have any other choice. I'm going to beg him for my job and do what I have to do to get on with my life.” Brody's balls felt both large and soft in his hand; he knew how much Brody liked it when he massaged them very lightly. His legs kept opening wider and his voice quivered a little each time Chance squeezed. He wanted to go under the covers and roll them around in his mouth, but it was time to leave.

  Brody frowned and shook his head. “I'm leaving Tuesday, you know. I don't have a choice either. My mother is gone and my leave is over, so I have to return to Europe."

  "I understand. You have this whole other life and I'm not part of it,” Chance said. “I knew you were here temporarily, but I fell in love with you anyway. It happens.” He let go of Brody's balls and sat up on his knees. He leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. “We'll be okay."

  "Damn, baby! I didn't expect to fall in love with you either,” Brody said. And he punched the pillow as hard as he could before pulling Chance by the back of the head toward his face and shoving his tongue into his mouth so hard, their teeth knocked together.

  A moment later, Chance pushed him away and got out of bed. He dressed quickly despite his shaking hands. He tried to keep smiling for Brody's sake, but it wasn't possible. He could barely force his fingers to hold the buttons on his shirt without fumbling. “No long goodbyes,” he said, when he picked his car keys up from the nightstand. “Let's keep this simple."

  Brody smiled. He was still in bed and still naked. “We'll keep in touch, baby. This isn't the last time we'll see each other."

  Chance stared at him for a second and shrugged his shoulders. “C'mon, Brody,” he said. “You know damn well we'll probably never see each ot
her again. Sometimes it's just not meant to be. We live in two different worlds. I'm still struggling to build a career as a chef and I need my job at the market to do that. And you're a career naval officer where there are rules about moral obligations and this thing called ‘don't ask and don't tell.’ You could be discharged for this, and you have too much at stake to get mixed up with someone like me, I don't want to complicate your life."

  As he spoke, something inside him changed, and it occurred to him that instead of feeling sad and pathetic, he suddenly felt strong and wise. He wasn't looking forward to begging the old man for his job back, but he knew he was doing the right thing by letting Brody go back to his life with a clear conscience.

  Brody sat up on the edge of the bed and patted his legs. “At least sit down on my lap and kiss me goodbye."

  But Chance shook his head and crossed toward the door. “Ah, well, if I do that, you'll have my pants down around my ankles in a minute, I'll be wearing high heels, and my legs will be in the air over your shoulders. No long goodbyes.” He opened the door and held the doorknob for a moment. Then he looked Brody in the eye and lowered his voice. “Take care of yourself, man."

  "You too, baby,” Brody said. He stood from the bed and faced him, then smiled and said, “One more thing. Say my name again. I like the way you do that."

  Chance laughed. “Take care of yourself, Brody.” Then he took a deep breath and stepped outside onto the dock.

  The sky was clear that afternoon and the lake was almost as blue as Brody's eyes. When he was halfway up the stone stairs that led to the house, he heard the sound of an engine starting. He turned and looked back. Brody was standing next to the boat wearing sweatpants, and he looked up and waved before untying the boat from the dock, jumping inside and pulling away. The small, clear waves he left behind parted and drifted off in opposite directions, and Chance walked back to his car alone.

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  Chapter Ten

  Dan Pratta was behind the deli counter, leaning over the meat slicing machine, with a butter knife—his idea of a tool kit—in one hand and a dish rag in the other. Thankfully, there were no customers waiting for deli meats, because Dan hadn't had to worry about fixing the slicing machine since Chance had started working there. It was also obvious he had been working the market alone on Sunday. The counter was littered with scraps of meat and cheese, there were splashes of mayonnaise on the wall, and the salads hadn't been turned over since Chance had left the previous day. His eyes were focused so intently on the blade that he didn't even bother to look up when Chance walked in through the front entrance. There was no loud Italian music blaring from the loudspeakers over the front door.

  It was a slow afternoon for a Sunday in August, and all Chance could hear were the clinks and clanks of the butter knife hitting the slicing blade, which he knew wasn't broken at all. It only needed to be cleaned properly because Dan had probably jammed something like hard salami in the back. The part-time cashier was reading a tabloid newspaper on the counter, but she was so interested in the latest affairs of some celebrity that she only smiled at Chance for a second and went back to her reading, which was fine with Chance.

  He jiggled his keys and Dan looked up at him. The old man said, “Oh, it's you.” And then he looked down at the screwdriver and tried to shove it behind the blade.

  "You have to turn it upside down,” Chance said. “There's probably a piece of meat stuck in the back. It's not broken."

  "Oh,” he said, and rested the tools on the counter so he could turn the machine around.

  This was the first time Chance had ever gone against the old man's orders about something that didn't involve touching his ass, and it was awkward. There had been that time when the old man had slipped into his bedroom in the middle of the night and tried to get into bed with him. One minute Chance was sound asleep, and the next he felt someone's hand on his ass and hot, sour breath on his neck. Another time, Dan tried to give him a blow job while he was napping naked on the sofa during a snowstorm when the market was closed. But all this had happened four years earlier, when he'd first started working and living there, and both times Chance had set the record straight—that he'd walk around naked after hours, but no physical contact of any kind—with such bluntness that he wasn't sure how Dan would react to a normal disagreement about taking a few hours off on a Saturday afternoon. He took a deep breath and clenched his fists so he'd be prepared if Dan threw him out again.

  Dan reached behind the blade and yanked out a huge chunk of head cheese that he'd probably jammed there himself the day before. He had those crooked, stubby little fingers that curled inward with age. He hadn't showered for a while, and if Chance went any closer, he knew he'd have to breathe through his mouth to avoid the rotten onion smell.

  "What do you want?” the old man asked.

  "Ah, well...” he said. “I'd like my job back."

  Dan laughed and shook his head. “So you lost your contest and now you coming crawling back.” He laughed and shook his head.

  Chance hadn't expected the old man to welcome him with open arms. He'd expected to have to beg. “I just want my job back, is all.” He stared at the floor and spoke with a clear, even voice. He could have argued the point that he'd actually won second prize. But he didn't think it would matter much to Dan.

  "And how do I know this won't happen again?” Dan said. “That you won't go running off tomorrow after a bag of magic beans or some other silly idea in your pretty head?"

  Chance lowered his head and shrugged. He didn't think begging would be this difficult. He was almost ready to give the old bastard the middle finger, but he knew that would be a mistake and he would wind up homeless and jobless. That thousand-dollar check wouldn't get him very far either. So he reached down and tugged his dick a few times while Dan stared at him. “I'm not going anywhere for a very long time. I just want my job back."

  Dan stared between his legs and smiled. “Tell you what, I'll take you back on a trial basis with a few conditions: One, that you start scrubbing the floors every single day until I think they are clean enough, and two, that you sit on my lap naked every night for one hour.” He raised his right eyebrow and folded his hands below his waist. “These are my conditions, for now.” He wasn't joking either.

  The boldness of his second condition left Chance standing there speechless. He didn't reply. Their standing agreement was that there would never be any physical contact between them other than an occasional quick, cheap feel. Then Dan added, for the sake of clarity, “Nothing more than sitting on my lap naked. I'll keep my hands on the arms of the chair. You only have to sit there for one hour every night and wiggle around a little."

  "I'll scrub the floors every day,” Chance said, while he clenched his fists behind his back. “I'll even scrub your truck once a week. But I'm not sitting naked on your lap.” Dan was probably bluffing anyway. Dan liked his naked ass, but he also liked the way Chance cooked and made money, which was far more important. But Chance didn't call his bluff out loud.

  Dan pressed his lips together and considered. “Okay, no sitting on my lap, but you still have to take off your clothes when you're upstairs, and I want my truck scrubbed and cleaned once a week. That's a good idea.” He smiled viciously. “It's not such a bad deal, if you ask me."

  "If that's what it will take to get my job back, fine."

  "That's it?” Dan asked “No ‘thank you', or ‘I'm sorry', or anything?” He pressed his finger to his chin and frowned. “You don't sound grateful."

  Chance closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose, controlling his temper. “I'm sorry for yesterday. Thank you for taking me back.” He spoke quickly and looked down at the floor, and the words seemed stuck in his throat.

  The nun stepped into the market carrying a small shopping list, and Dan threw his arms in the air and greeted her with a gigantic, insincere smile. Chance went behind the deli counter and put on his apron so that he could fill her order and finish working
what was left of the day.

  Monday morning, he felt overwhelmed by a painful tug in the pit of his stomach, even worse than the lump he'd had in his throat the previous night. It was partly because he didn't want to be there anymore. Everything in Dan's market suddenly took on a distressed, dreary appearance. And though he knew he would not be there forever, and he'd work as hard as he could to get out, for the time being he was again trapped and helpless. because the worst part was knowing he wouldn't see Brody again. Getting back together with him on Sunday after being mad at him for over a week had frayed his emotions and taken him on a wild ride he hadn't expected. It might have been better if he'd actually remained mad and let Brody go back to Europe without ever seeing him again. Watching Brody drive off in the boat on Sunday afternoon reminded him of the time they'd made love in the dark cove, with Brody's large, strong hands wrapped around his waist protectively. Chance wondered if he'd ever be able to forget him.

  He went into the barn first thing that morning, hoping to find a new batch of squirrels so he could continue to torture the old man. When he opened the door and looked into the cages, he raised one eyebrow and smiled at the sight of four brand-new squirrels resting in silence. When he sprayed their bushy tails lightly with orange paint, Chance made a wish that maybe Dan would take them even further away this time so he'd be gone at least two or three days in a row.

  When he went back into the kitchen to prepare his one-of-a-kind meatloaf (the secret ingredient, along with ketchup and mustard and diced hearts of palm, was one tablespoon of plain old table sugar to each pound of meat ... the sugar did something that made people beg for more) as the special for the day, he found a sense of peace in his cooking. Slicing the onions and cracking the eggs took his mind away from the sound of Dan snoring and farting at night. Grating the stale bread into crumbs and inhaling the smell of freshly crushed garlic made him stop thinking about the way Brody had shoved him against the shower wall and pinned him there so hard, he could barely breathe. He took a deep breath and smiled when he pressed his palms into the raw meat and mixed the ingredients together. He even tossed a pinch of salt over his shoulder for good luck.