Pass Received (cont.)

"You get things straight with our wayward nurse?" he asked.

I nodded and then gave him a mock stern look. "You, Mr QB, are suppose to be resting."

"Oh. Is that what was going on when the two of you were playing skin flute with my cock -- rest? Seems like it was a mite over stimulating to meet the definition of rest." His voice was gruff, but there was a twinkle in his eye and a teensy smile turning up the ends of his mouth. I think I just got my leg pulled -- almost clear off my body.

You weren't sleeping when I left," I said with trepidation.

"One of the things you learn, clear back in college, is how to fake it so you get counted present and still get your ass out for the night," he said, chuckling again from down deep. "Just wanted to see what you'd do."

"So?"

"You went after him for interfearing, right? I may have a sore head, I'm not brain dead. He would have . . . stuck around, come back for more. Right?"

I sat in the chair by his side. "In order: yes, didn't think you were, yep and emphatically yes. Got that?"

He looked me in the eye, holding me there, studying me, weighing my response, considering what had hapened, and finally nodded. "So, you only dig guys, Rob? Or you just swing with the opportunities?"

I didn't drop my eyes. "Again, yes, nope. That bother you, hoss?" Sometime I was going to come right out and call him by name, but we weren't that close, even as intimate as we'd been just a few minutes ago.

"Not if it don't upset you that I don't to one and do to two. Course most of the time I've got pussy juice needing to be washed off some part of my anatomy, but I'll take what I can get when it's available and appealing. Know what I mean, Rob?" he said, his voice barely a whisper.

I think I do," I said.

"You're a good looking guy, Rob. A real appealing package -- muscles and a functional brain. Think you'd like to change jobs?" The faint smile had become a big grin, but his eyes were still serious and locked with mine.

"What you got to offer?"

"Body guard, travel companion." He paused, winked. "Being available."

"No pinping, procuring."

"Christ, Rob. I have to fight 'em off. You won't be expected to solicit. Just don't get bent out of shape when you find me humping a blonce with big tits."

"You wantin' a bought and paid for back up, a just-in-case guy, someone standing around with their thumb up their ass until you decide to offer something better?" There was a touch of belligerence in my voice. I wanted to get it clear before making any committment just what was the relationship he was offering.

"No! No! Not like that," he interjected. "A friend I can turn to. A companion that can have his own life. Someone I can talk with about something beside fuckin' football. A guy who understands all of me. Someone I can get along with, in bed and out."

What if you want and I'm busy?"

Rob, if you can tolerate my broads, I can tolerate your guys. Agreed?"

"Tollerating's one thing, frustration's another," I offered.

"Hey, if it won't wait, me for you, you for me, there's always Mr. Handy," he said, laughter rumbing in his throat. he lifted an arm and jacked at a giant invisible prick. "Anyway, it wouldn't be a penal servitute contract, just a hand shake -- or whatever you feel like shaking to seal the deal."

What did I have to loose? So . . . When the Arm of the North checked out, still with a slight buzzing in his ears, he had a new member of his entourage: Robert D Smyth. To everyone else around, an to him on most days, I'm Smitty. When I get a call for Rob, I know what's up. I've learned to take it like a man. Although, sometimes he just wants a little head or a naked wrestling match with benefits. Then sometimes . . . he does just want to talk. Damn. I love my work.