Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 This is mostly slow, and romantic, but starts out urban, before moving out
to a more rural setting.  TW: Homophobe, meaning if UR1, this one's
definitely not for you.

   I'm challenging myself, again.  This time to write Male Romance
(Figuring the title gave that away) Working past the social taboos, and
stereotypes that apply to them.  As opposed to lesbians, bisexual women,
girls, and Fg molestation.  Though there may some female bisexual themes
(The Leitmotif being a Duet between Queen, and George Michael) It's not
really about that, because it's popular.

   Which means there really aren't any stories like this out there, other
than one really bad example.  About gay cowboys written by a Jewish
spinster from Brooklyn.  Which is a little ironic, since it's typically
straight guys writing relationships they can't possibly know anything
about. So, anyway.  If that's what you're looking for, pseudo-sapphic
sexual action, then you don't have to look much further, there's plenty
around here, might want to try Leslita, I've written some myself.

   For once I decided to write the gender reversed version, about 2
straight men falling in love, and overcoming homophobia to admit their
feelings for eachother.  Can't say I didn't warn you.
:

   P.U.L.S.E.  {Front 242 - One (with the Fire)}

   "Ooh!  When does he get off?" She hangs over the rope, and steadies
herself on my chest, winking right in my face.  Heavily breathing,
inflamibly alcoholic breath.

   I hold up my hand, "Hopefully as soon as I get home to my wife." Show
her my ring.

   "Sorry about that, she apparently gets extra lose when she's had a few."

   "Too many?" I took his card, "Everet."

   "Dixy!" He pulled her back.  "You're here with me, remember?"

   "Ahahaha!"

   "Let me call her a cab."

   "No, huh!" He sighed, "I got it." Steadied her on her heels, and pulled
out a silver Slice {Tm} from a belt clip.  "Yeah, can you come pick up
Dixy?"

   "Oh, but the night's still young!" she pouted, and groped him right in
front of the club.

   "Yeah, well don't ruin it for anyone else." A Towncar pulled up, and I
let them through the side rope, while he helped her stagger on her heels.

   "Next." I snapped, "Idees?"

   "Thanks for handling that, you don't want to press charges?" He pulled
out a money clip.

   "For what?"

   "Sexual harassment, assault?" I shook my head, took the bill.

   Technically it's just as illegal for her, no matter how drunk she is. 
"I'm used to it by now." Let them through, too drunk to consider that I
might be married, and not interested in cheating with a ditsy chick with a
few too many.

   "You want me to go to the back of the line?"

   "Nah, that's all right.  If anything I should be thanking you, for
taking care of her." The Towncar drove of.  "That your driver?"

   "Just the service, I don't have a chauffeur, or anything."

   "What do you do?"

   "Nothing, really." He shrugged, "Just try to spend my family's money,
though usually not on anyone quite as unfortunate as Dixie."

   "She's been in here before."

   "You know her?"

   "Not really, you?" It got to the point where I could check IDs in my
sleep, let alone hold a conversation.

   "She picked the club." He shook his head.

   "Ooh, you must work out!" I rolled my eyes, flipped over the driver's
license.  For one thing, if I did stop to report every woman that hit on me
to talk her way in the club, the line would keep backing up even further.

   "Hang on," I turned back, "How old are you, really?" Looked her over.

   "21?" Sober.  At least for now.

   "Well, come back when you have a real ID, or find a better forger." I
pinched it, bending it over my nails, and twisted until it separated, and
tore.  "Real ones aren't laminated paper any more." I threw the pieces in
the trash, "Next." Everet stepped out of the way, and she stomped off in a
huff.

   "Jailbait." I picked up the stamp.  He looked back, and laughed, shaking
his head.  "So, you don't mind me hanging out here." He held up a
cigarette. "My ride just left, and I don't really feel like dancing with
myself." Tapped it on the chrome case.

   "Plenty of ladies inside." I handed back IDs, and let 2 more in,
stamping their hands in case they come back out to smoke.
{St: Rammstein - Rein/Raus (Mutter)}
"I don't like to pick up girls in clubs, either." He shrugged, "Can't

talk to them, over the music."

   The door shut, but I just nodded.  "Mind if I get one of those off of
you?" He pulled the case back out of his jacket.

   "So," I studied another card, "You're one of those Wrights." Checked her
face against the photo.

   "We built this city, or at least my folks did." Real Estate, from what I
hear.  "I try to stay out of the news."

   "Mh," I nodded.  Good cigarettes, imported.  "Go on in." I set down the
stamp, held the door.  Industrial night, so all the freaks came out.  In
their shiny plastic, chrome spikes, and UV reactive pigtails.

   "See some ID?" I wet the stamp on the concierge stand.

   "So, you're married."

   "Happily, 3 kids." I don't get to see enough of.  Pulled out my wallet
for once.  Figured he didn't have to take my money, and tucked in the. 
Holy fuck, a $50!?

   "Senior Varsity?" My son.

   "Intermural, but he's an allstar.  Hang on." I opened the door.  "Yeah,
he's a shoe in for Junior Varsity next semester, and looking at
scholarships." Thank god, you know what Tuition costs these days?

   "Must be nice.  Settling down, having kids."

   "As opposed to being a Playboy?"

   "Yeah, well.  It has it's ups and downs, like finding a woman who's not
interested in my money."

   "Must be rough."

   "Where do you work out?"

   "See some ID?" I checked.  "I don't.  Don't have the time, I work
Construction." During the week.

   "Well, you must be doing something right."

   "Here you go." he handed my wallet back, "Harrison."

   "Harry," I tucked it back, picked up the stamp.  "Call me Harry."

   "Harry Osborn?"

   "No relation."

   He laughed, I laughed.  Irony!

   {Fictional trademark note: The Ti-Slice is a parallel universe
competitor to the Keybook PDA.  Made in America by a Calculator
manufacturer, with a distinctive "Titanium" yellow finish, as well as
availible chrome, and fashion color cases.  To compete with the
Sanyo/Fischer "Splice" (Mistranslation Ingrish) in Asia.  Compare to our
universe equivalent: The Motorola Spice.  Trademarks changed to avoid
Copyright infringement, because Intellectual Property Rights are probably
more important to me than you.  Basically a Hipsterphone, mass produced to
cash in on the Post-Matrix electronics market.  In case you're wondering,
this puts it in the Atrocity Wars timeline, along with Connie (Who coined
the term Atrocity Wars after the fact, and went on to be convicted of
Crimes Against Humanity) Thorpe, and Billy Young, who went on to crash the
entire Undernet, along with most of AOL.}

   ;

   Everet

   So, he gave me a ride.  "I've got gas money." I joked.

   "Got a full tank." He got in, and pulled the door.  "Thanks for the
fifty."

   "Don't mention it."

   "So, you're into comic books."

   "Look, I know I don't look like a nerd, but yeah.  I didn't have a lot
of friends growing up." I don't like to brag, but.  "I'm not a tech genius,
and I don't fancy dressing up as a bat to fight crime, but I figured out
the secret my family tried to hide from me early on."

   "What's that?"

   "The poor spend money, while the rich horde it.  Now, I don't think I
can fix the economy single handedly, but I do what I can to make up for
their businesses, driving good honest people out of your homes."

   "How's that?"

   "Share the wealth?  I know it's cliche, but really, that what I do. 
Since you asked, I support local businesses by shopping there, take nice
girls out, tip extremely well, and try to spend their money on people that
deserve it more.  That way it's not tax deductible, they can't write it
off, and get a kickback from the city council, or their friends in congress
with friends that import cars, for instance."

   "Or cigarettes."

   "Yeah, they're the most expensive ones at the local Bodega, run by a
nice Guatemalan family, with family back in Guatemala.  Same with my food,
and my family's restaurants.  I make sure it all comes from within 500
miles, instead of supporting Sysco, or Sam's Club, because my mom golfs
with the Waltons."

   "Really?"

   "Yeah, really."

   "Can I get another one of them off you, then?"

   "I'll buy you a pack, hell I'll buy you a carton, the Mendozas can use
the money."

   "So, that's why you call it their money?"

   "I didn't earn it.  You do, working two jobs, and hows the Construction
doing?"

   "Why do you think I moonlight as a bouncer?"

   "Other than being built like a cinder block wall, I know why.  I told
you, my family wrecked the housing market, so nobody wants to risk money on
building new projects."

   "Oh."

   "So, I was thinkin'.  You work commercial, or residential construction?"

   "Either or, but I'd rather do residential.  Remodel, and reclamation,
mostly."

   "Good, well I just bought a property out in the country, and it could
stand a little work.  Low cost in materials, but a lot on labor."

   "Sounds like embezzling."

   "That's exactly what it is, only instead of taking a little money from
everyone who can't afford it, I take a lot of money from my family, and
spread it around as much as I can.  Without them noticing, if I pay for a
school in Syria, for instance, I got a stern lecture on economics from my
father.  Then the Mayor, then 3 congressmen, and keep getting phone calls
from developers.  Offering to make me money off of the mineral rights." I
got out my phone, scrolled through my e-mail.  "See?"

   "Well, I can use the work."

   "Good, because I can stand to get rid of a lot of money."

   ;

   Harry

   "Huh!" the girls were still up.  "Off to bed, now." Tiffany just
shrugged, and headed back to their room.  Stef jumped up, so I held her
legs at my hips.

   "Goodnight, daddy."

   "Mwa." she hopped down.  All ready in their nighties, I checked on Jr.
He was already out like a light, so I gently kissed his head.  It's not a
school night, or early morning.  After 2 a clock, damned near 3am, last I
checked.

   "Late night?" Brook sat up, in bed, set aside her Romance novel.

   "Gave a guy a ride home, but I got some work." I dropped my shirt, and
unhooked my belt.  "So," I just let them fall with a heavy thud of pocket
junk, and she held back the covers.  "It looks like you can take that time
off, for spring break?" Stay home with the girls.

   "Smooch, you think Jr.  can come to work with you?"

   I shrugged, against the pillow.  "Looks like there'll be plenty of money
to pay him."

   "Good," she felt under the covers.  "Why, I was worried about you.  Out
so late, at night."

   "You know I can take care of myself," I grinned, and ran the hem of her
nighty up her thigh.  Felt that she shaved for me, some time today, her
legs fresh, and smooth "Snh!" She got started without me, wore my favorite
panties under her nighty.

   "Yes, but one of these days you're going to meet a beautiful women, and.
Mh!" She smiled, against my lips.

   "Not another one like you."

   "Hnh!" She relaxed, against the pillow, and took another breath.  Her
soft tummy rising, under the silky fabric of her negligee, and it dipped it
to swirl around in her navel.  "Mhhhn!"

   "Smooch," kissed her chin.  "Sorry to keep you waiting." It brushed my
cheek, and I tickled her throat lightly with my beard.

   "Nh!" her throat, bounced under my tongue, and started warming up
against my lips.  "Well," it buzzed, "I suppose you can make up to me."

   I just nodded, working my way down to swirl my tongue in the divit
between her collar bone, and the satin up between her breasts.

   "Smh," smelled her sweat between the loose lace trim, starting to
bunched up, and stopped to feel her pulse, beating through her breastbone.

   "Yes, dear." I looked up.  "It'll be my pleasure."

   My hand slipped down, and I felt her gasp.  Even as my fingertips
reached the edging around her waistband, and underneath.  Ran through the
forest of her pubes, and traced the line of her pantiline scar.

   Stephanie, 10 pounds, 9 ounces.

   My first, but I have another hand.  To feel up under her dress, and
expose her nipple.  The one that had fed my beautiful children.

   "Oh, Harry!"

   I didn't answer, with my mouth full.

   The girls are still up, so we have to keep it down, or I can take my
time to let them nod off...

   .

   {And then they make love.  While, I can write romantic heterosex between
a married couple, I'll leave it to your imaginations, because that's not
what this is about.  Also, I have a lot of characters to introduce:}

   .

   Harrison Osborn II (m Solo Fant)

   TWEET!

   "Huh!" The coach's whistle, echoed from my dreams.

   "Hit the showers, girls."

   "Yearh!" I stretched, "Huh!" Felt under the covers.

   I have to pee, but not yet.  Not that I could without it running up my
belly, in this condition, so I lay back.

   Closed my eyes, to take care of it, before my sisters wake up.  Quietly,
so I don't wake my sisters up.

   "Hhhhhh!"

   Lance.

   Running back, not the biggest guy on the team, but probably the fastest.
"Hnh!"

   Running back, to the showers.

   "Huh, yeah.'

   Naked, his tight glutes flexing, and his lean thighs swinging back and
forth.  His balls bouncing in between, and his cute little cock, pointing
the way.  Standing up hard, proud, the skin pulling back from the eye to
look ahead.  Lick my lips.

   "Ew, Harry!"

   "Uh!" I held it flat, covered it up under the sheet.

   "Gross."

   "Jacking off again?"

   Stef got up, and took the bathroom first.  Again.

   "Hihihn!" Tiffy giggled, and ran out, but I heard the shower.  "Save
some hot water!" She beat on the door.

   Well, that took care of that, so I got up, and opened the window.  Hot
night, muggy so it was still a little warm.  Blowing in the window, and
mixing with the air condition.

   It kicked in, drowned out the water running in the wall behind me.

   "Huhhhhh!"

   What?  There's nobody out there, it's our yard, and I don't Have to use
the bathroom in the morning.

   2 sisters, it could take hours, and I couldn't wait for hours for them
to get done with it.

   "Hah!" I pulled up my shorts, rubbed my tummy, but it's hot.  Just close
the window, probably another cold shower this morning, but I don't mind. 
So much, I'm used to it.

   ;

   {Continuity Note: The same Stephanie, genetically, from another
timeline. Just not the one where she met a European immigrant named
Euphrat. Instead, Hennesie (Named after another porn star) was born a boy,
and she got a different little sister.  About 3 years later in accordance
with the Many Worlds Interpretation of Quantum Mechanics..,}

   ;

   Tiffany (g Solo.  mf Ince Fant)

   "Hihin!" She let me in, grabbed a towel, and wrapped it around her
boobs. Then the other one, to dry her hair.  "Can you get me a couple
more?"

   "Uh!" Hormones, I guess, but the steam wafted?  I think that's the word,
when she came back, over the shower curtain from her opening the door.

   "Here you go." I peeked, but she was already closing it back.  Left them
folded in a stack on the tank of the toilet.

   "HhHhH!" I let it out, run hot down my legs, and pulled the head down,
to wrinse it off.  Skipping a step, since I didn't get a chance before,
while she was hogging it, but there's some hot water left.  "Nh!" I twisted
it, so the spray switched over to the three teardrop holes.  Curling around
like yin yangs, only 3 of them, and the exact same.

   BdPbdPbdPbdP!

   "Ngh!"

   Taking turns, going round and round, throwing a thick heavy drop to hit
me hard enough to massage, with water.  "Hh!" On my tummy, holding it out
so they hit the same spot, shaking me deep inside, and a little more
dribbled out.

   So, I better move it down, but slowly.  Over the water flowing, pulling
down my pubes to tickle around my thighs, between them and my lips, between
them, and the hot trickle.
PqbpqbdPqb!:.

   Lower', "Hhihn!"

   The gentle thudding, deep into the thick spongey puff of flesh under
them, all the way down to the bone.

   I said ew, gross.  Yeah, he's my brother, but mostly because he's gay,
and I can just imagine him with another boy, but.

   Ew.

   I shook my head.

   He doesn't have to be gay, or even my brother.  I'm so wet, of course,
but I got everything woken up, so I just cut off the water, and let it hang
a minute.

   Grabbed the bottle of body wash.  "Sniff!" The cap still left open, and
worked up a little lather.

   I'm not as hairy as Stephanie's, but I have some, long ones.  I can pull
out of the way.  Now that the water's not flowing down, pulling them back
in the way, but that's not just water.  In the bottom, it's not pee,
either. I can feel the difference, it's I don't know.  Slipperier?

   "Huh!" But the suds roll down my legs, make me shiver, and hot, and
goosebumps prickle out on my arms.  "Nh!  Hm!" Just sit back.  A minute,
don't have to get ready for school, and let some more build up in the hot
water heater.

   "Hh!"

   I know, they're my brother and sister, but I don't exactly have pornos
to look at.  Sports magazines, with plenty of hunky guys, topless, and
flexing, lifting weights.  Squatting so their thighs bulge out the tight
stretched spandex, but you know.  No nudes, none of what's inside,
throbbing hard, but I can imagine.  With the raunchy stories mom reads, and
I don't have to look at their faces.  It's not about their faces, or even
their names, they don't have to be Harry, and Stef.  They could be any
body, but.  "Nihihihn!"

   Their bodies, and their hands.  I get to see them naked every day, so
they're really the best bodies, and they don't have to be my brother and
sister.

   Well, half sister, her deadbeat dad left mom, and while I feel for her.
I really do, but I can't be too sorry, because if he hadn't, she never
would have met my dad.

   She really does have a great body, Stephanie's, I mean.  Like Mom's, I
guess, but you know.  Younger, and skinnier, with nice perky breasts, and a
lot more hair between her legs.

   "Yeah," while Harry's more like dad, of course.  Even fitter, but no as
hairy.  Ironically enough, he can't grow a decent mustache, and it doesn't
come down low enough to join his beard.  So, he shaves it, and he barely
has any on his chest so he leaves it alone.  Like the ones around his
navel, and the dotted line, leading down to the peak of his pubes, and the
big hard thing sticking out the front, hanging over his balls, and I can
just imagine touching them.

   Not Harry's, mind you.  For one thing, he's gay, so even if he wasn't my
brother, he'd rather it was another guy.  Not another girl, an older one,
with nice broad hips, and smooth clean shaven legs.  A tight tummy, and big
perky tits hanging as if weightless even without a bra until his hands let
go, and feel around her back.

   Pull m in, so they swish around his big broad flat firm sweaty, muscular
chest, and "HhHhHhH!"

   Yeah.  I think I might be just a little bisexual.

   ;

   {Oh, and also leaner.  Without a pervy predatory uncle to sexually
harass, and shame her into gaining weight in a subconscious attempt to turn
him off.  So, he turned his attention to her little sister, Hennesie, when
she started growing up...}

   ;

   Harry

   "Huh!" Nice property.  Old farmhouse, before the land got chopped in
half, and those halves chopped in half again, then they cut a dirt road
behind them to put in mailboxes to either side.

   Everet explained it, some legal mumbo-jumbo, about Property Value,
possession, and transfer, in probate, or whatever.  I'm not a lawyer, or an
Accountant.  Just here to look it over, and assess what can be done with
the farmhouse, but that's why we pulled in behind it.

   "Wrap around porch." So, the old back door could be converted to a front
door.  I grabbed my tool bag, and my tablet.

   "Whatever it takes." He kicked the posts at the base, of his new porch.
"You know, the sky's the limit."

   "Well, that's gonna have to come out." I tested the stairs first.  Not
rotted through, they took my wight, but bitched about it.  The screen door
was stuck.  "This's gonna have to come out too.  Harry?"

   "Uh huh!" He looked up, and I handed down the tablet.

   "Here, you can take notes.  New porch."

   "Uh huh?" I took out my tape measure.  "Careful on those steps." I
tested the floorboards too.  "You want ti screened in, like." It used to
be, hanging in tatters now, from the frames around, and above the railings.
Exposed jacks underneath, behind the outer siding, but not sheathed, since
it's an external wall.  I checked the door.

   "I'll have to think about it." He held up a key, hanging from twine tied
through the grommeted hole in printed paper.  "Let's check out the whole
place."

   I nodded, unlocked it, and looked inside.  Kitchen.

   "Solid floor." I stamped the hardwood, "Good condition, I could salvage
it, or just leave it in place.

   "How about a hall, and a foyeur?"

   "Yeah," I looked around.  Unlocked the tape, and pulled it out.

   "Junior, get ready to take down some measurements."

   "Okay, dad."

   "Looks like I can save a lot of money on materials on reclaimed wood,
like the siding, the floors, and." Knock on wood, "This panneling.  You
righting this down, junior?"

   "Yeah dad."

   "Good, then butt this to the wall." Opposite the kitchen, I drew it out,
and felt the nicely stained surface.  For splinters, gaps, roughness or
other imperfections which might be problematic, to the dining room door. 
"Somebody obviously loved this place." Took care of it, probably until
forced to sell it to some developer.

   Wright Developing, right out front.

   "Huh!  12 foot, seven'n'ahalf inch." He let go, and it coiled back in
the case.  "Write down that crown molding too." I pointed.  Pulled out a
screwdriver to reach up, and tap it.  "Good." Hardwood, instead of plaster.
I butted the tip in the corner, to confirm it was, "8 foot ceiling."

   He tapped it in.  "Go get my spirit level from the truck."

   "The long one?"

   "Yeah, the 4 footer." I took out my pencil.  Crouched in the corner to
measure out 3', mark the baseboard, then up 4' in the corner.  Straighten
it out to pull between the 2 crow's feet.

   "Huh!"

   5' exactly.  The tape sucked back in.  "Pretty damned good!" I laughed.

   "Here you go dad." He handed it down to me, so I stood it up.  In the
corner, and turned it, up against the other wall.  Turned my head to watch
the bubble settle right in the middle.

   "Plumb good!" I laughed, excited for such a nice project.

   "Good, I'm glad you like it."

   "Junior." He buckled my spare belt on, looked out, and nodded.  "Go
check upstairs." Handed him the level.

   "All right."

   I went around, behind them, and found the cellar door.

   "I'll check the basement for water damage."

   "Well, the realtor said there wasn't any.  Made a point of that."

   "Yeah, well realtors lie, so I'll check anyway."

   Solid foundation, concrete, faced with stone to look like Masonry, using
the Roman method, but not a crack to be seen, so far.  I pulled out a
flashlight, started in the corner.

   "I can get the power turned on, any time."

   "Tomorrow, we can break out the power tools.  Today, I'll look over what
we have to work with, then we can talk about what we want to do with it."

   "Boarding house." He nodded.  "Rentals, like apartments, but out here,
for low income families, like the Mendozas."

   "Oh, you already got tenants lined up?"

   "Yeah, got them another location, large enough for Produce, since
they're Farmers back in Guatamala."

   "Huh!" Good idea.

   "Get them out of that dangerous neighborhood."

   "Well, this place is incredible shape.  Let's get the layout, so we can
figure out how to partition it."

   With the minimum number of walls.  Minimum materials, recycle what I
can, the rest of it can go to my family.  Already got an estimate.

   "Deal?"

   Yeah, good.  "Deal." We shook on it.

   ;

   {Again, this one's going to be slow.  These guys are straight, maybe not
homophobic as such, but still have to fight past the gender roles.  The
sexist stereotypes about men Having romantic feeling for each other, much
less admitting them to themselves, or each other.  I have to explain how
this can even happen in the first place.  So, it's going to take a while.

   No hurry...}

   ;

   Jr.

   "Huh!" I held my breath.  "Hhhhhh!" Let it out.  Shook my hand, and
looked for the toilet paper.  "Huh." Shrugged, and licked the rest off the
back of my fingers.  "Smirque!" Sucked it off my knuckle.  "Hah!" Tried the
toilet, that didn't work.  Well, it flushed, but didn't fill back up, at
least most of the evidence washed down, but a little floated up, so I
closed the lid.

   Fixed my pants, picked up the tool belt from the tub, and unlocked the
door.  One of those, old fashioned locks.  Only instead of the key, a
little twist, thing.  Under the crystal doorknob like a giant diamond.

   "Huhn!"

   Everet.  I'm not a fag, I'm a man's man.  I guess a hunk, like my dad.
I'm sure they'd call me butch in the clubs, I ain't old enough to go into,
but I like.  Well, let's just say he's a good looking guy.  I don't know if
he's straight, bi curious, or metrosexual, didn't really get a chance to
ask.  Him, alone with me, but.

   "Huhn!" A guy can dream.

   So anyway, I'm supposed to be checking out the upstairs, and not the
owner, but they were kind of tight lipped about what they're developing it
for, besides residential.  Instead of bulldozing it for, whatever, but they
aren't in the kitchen, nor the dining room, front room, I guess that's a
parlor, or could be a den.  or a study, downstairs bathroom there, and I
mean a full bath.  Even bigger, soaking tub with claw feet, and an antique
faucet, looks like.  Polished, like my daddy said, somebody loved this
place.  It looked like an empty museum, hauled off the rugs or whatever,
but there wasn't even scuffs on the polished floors to show where the
furniture used to be.

   Scratch that, a little in the dining room, around the legs of the table,
or the unfaded spots where the table legs used to being, but I bet that was
probably antique too.

   3 bathrooms, 3 full baths, with tubs, 2 showers, and one of them en
suite to the Master bedroom, but I checked the door under the stairs.  Saw
it had another lock on it, a keylock this time, but it opened.  "Dad, you
down there?"

   That one, by the downstairs bath, though.

   Lived so long in a 2 bedroom apartment, I could barely remember what it
was like.  Having my own bedroom, why my sister was just a baby, and Tiffy
weren't even born yet, it was so long ago.  And here I am in a 4 bedroom, 3
bath, with a basement larger than our whole place.

   "Huh!"

   Make that 3 and a half bath.  Shake my head, but it's not even dusty
down here.  I just got to look up to the rafters, or floor Joists, really,
but there's not much light coming in the window at the top of the wall. 
Ground level, I reckon, but just a toilet, and sink.  Big one, washer drier
hookup, but if I were doing this project.  Say it was my place, I just
bought it.

   Didn't get a chance to shave this morning, so I felt a little stubble on
my chin, but I could just imagine.  There could be enough plumbing there,
if you moved the laundry up stairs, I could even punch out that drier vent
for a cabinet unit over a stove.  A little kitchen, or kitchenette, like a
mother in law apartment, there's stairs up to storm doors right there.

   Not a lot of light, the only other window has a nice view of a
corrugated steel wall, curved around like a horse trough cut in half, and
stacked up to ground level.  Bent rebar welded to the sides, more like a
manhole cover really, looking back at the stairs to orient myself, that
must be the side yard, which'd put the storm doors in the front?  Who puts
the strom doors in the front, instead of the back, and how come we didn't
see them driving up?

   Locked anyway, so I went back down, and over to the stairs back up to
the kitchen.

   "Oh." Look down.  Must be under the porch?  Well, my daddy was talking
about tearing it up anyway, they must've added it later, and turned the
house around for some reason?

   "Huh!" Out at the truck, bent over the tailgate with some papers rolled
out, and weighed down by the spirit level.  Looks like, that Everet bent
over next to him in them jeans.  White woven straw Stetson hung up from a
shovel handle bungied to the side rack.

   Playing cowboy, but you got to admit, that's one hell of a good looking
man.

   "Call me Everet," he said, in the truck.  right next to me, the whole
way down, why I had that not so little problem to take care of when we got
here.

   I don't know, he sure looks like Mr.  Right from here.

   ;

   Mr.  Wright

   "Yeuw with'e developer?"

   "Yeah?" Harry turned away from the plans, shaping up, but I patted his
shoulder.  Grabbed my hat, hung up so it wouldn't get knocked off by the
ladder rack, and shifted into my best drawl.  "I'm Everet."

   "Roman Gillespe," he shook over the barbed wire.  Looked simple enough
to pull up, and replace with something, with a little more privacy perhaps?

   "Roman?"

   "Gillespe.  Been'n my family for generations."

   I squinted, nodded.  "Polish?"

   "Yugoslavia, originally, but we been here since Roman the first, back in
'57.  That's eighteen, fifty seven."

   Out by West, Texas.  Not to be confused for West Texas, closer to Waco,
actually.  He hooked a pinky in his cheek, bent over and dropped a smelly
chunk of tobacco, and spat, away from his already spattered boots.  Like a
horse apple, from the south end of a northbound horse.

   "Be a shamed to see the old place go." I looked up from my toe, and set
it back down.

   "The old house?" I shook my head, "It's staying, we're just renovatin',
got a family all lined up, and everythin'." Out here, it helps to know the
language.

   "Why, I thought that place'd never cell.  Heuhah!"

   "Too expensive?"

   "Yup." he nodded.  "Hain't no o'l underthere," he pointed, in the
general direction of hell, sunday best.  Except the shit kickers, scuffed
from actual stirrups, If I'm anyone to judge.

   "That a rodeo buckle?" 1987.

   "Yup!" Pride and joy, "Ropin' champion, 3 years runnin', back in my
day." Where I'm from, they bet on High School football.  Out here, well
it's just different sports.

   "Well water," under the caliche', just making conversation, while my
contracter kept working on the plans.  Big old house, 3 floors, traced over
so we could flip back, and forth between them.  Only got the ground floor,
not much to the basement, other than a laundry room in thr corner under the
kitchen.  Lots of space, for lots of possibilities, not a sign of cracked
foundation, nor flooding.  Pristine, fits like tits, he said.

   "Mhm?" Sorry, was he saying something.

   "Yup!  Wish I could get something for this'ol ranchet." He hooked his
thumbs.

   "Oh yeah?" I perked up, "Thinkin' on movin on?"

   "Kids moved out, none of them like the idea of ranching.  It's the
internet."

   I looked up at the sattelite dish, old style sattelite dish, like a
little radio telescope.

   "Were was you thinking about relocating?"

   "Idunno," he shook his head, "The missus talkin' bout the gulf coast,
Corpus, Port Aransas, maybe Galveston?"

   "Well, I know some people, round.  Them parts, I'magine."

   "Where you from?" He frowned.

   "Dallas." I nodded, "Been all over." The world, "Texas that is."

   "Keepin up with work, like them Mex'kins?"

   Answers that question, how the neighbors would take to a south American
family moving in, and start farming again.

   "Welp, I'd have to run it past the bosses," I lied, "But how much land
you got here?" Looks like a ranchette style home.  Which is to say a single
wide home, with a steel side garage added to one end, could work for a
small barn if we jacked it up on trucks, and dragged it off to auction.

   "Standard acre,' he pointed out, "33 yard by 330."

   I nodded.  "Give you, say 15 thousand for the land?"

   "Why!" His wide eyes squinted, and the surprise turned to a grin. 
"I'magine I could let it go." He turned back, to cover it.  "Whew!" Shook
his head.  "For a little moren'at."

   "Three times the market rate?" I can tell them he drove a hard bargain,
but.  "That's my offer."

   "I'll take it!"

   "Shake on it?"

   Thought he would.

   ;

   {Trying not to tease too much, so here's some teen exhibition, and so
on, just to maintain sexual tension.}

   ;

   "Terry?" His mom called, "It's Stef!"

   He ran for the phone, "Got it!"

   I waited for her to hang up.  "Can you come over?"

   "You grounded?" Usually go over to his place.

   "House arrest.  Electronics suspension, but I want to see you." We can't
sext anyway, since she caught me sexting, I don't have a phone.  I can't
use her's, and the computer's in the living room.  With her, watching her
soaps, but that keeps her busy for hours.  Just had to get rid of the
brat."

   "Yeah," didn't have to say me too, "I'll be right over." Just in case
she listened at the door, on commercial break, but that's our little code.
See me, naked.

   I put on some music.  "Uhm," doesn't matter what, just so i don't have
to keep quiet.  Or too quiet, I can open the windows, but with the bars
over them, that's about it.  Pass stuff up, and down, but's really like a
jail.

   I'm 19 years old, but as long as I live under her roof...  "Huh!"
Whatever, "Britney Spears." She hates that, so it'll drive her away too.

   {"Slave 4U" (Britney)...}

   It'll take him a few to run over, but in the meantime.  I don't have to
take my clothes off.  Not yet, for me, better to save it for him, but I can
get in the mood.  Not my favorite song on the album, but it's got a good
beat, I can dance to.

   "Huh!"

   "All you people look at me like I'm a little girl..."

   Right.  Not for years.  These kinda give it away, I don't even get
carded for smokes, all the time, any more.  Sometimes, depends on where I
go, and who's running the register, but I shake my hips, so they shake in
my hands, and my skirt swishes over my thighs.

   "Babay, don't you worray..."

   He won't take too long.  To come running, to see me.

   "Get get, get get,"

   "Way,"

   "Get get, get get,"

   "Waay!"

   "Get get, get get,"

   "Huh huh huh huh!"

   Finally!  "There he is..."

   {"Overprotected"...  Yeah, I know.  just stopping bye to illustrate a
difference.  This one isn't motivated by Covert incest, but an opposite. 
Juliet Capulet Syndrome.}

   ;

   Magnolia

   Thought I'd check out the local, competition.  And a possible partner,
since a closer market to the land, maybe the Mendozas can work out a deal,
since they just have the relatively small semi-urban garden.

   Also Magnolia Realty.

   "Uh, they don't have a lot of Gluten Free options."

   I laughed.

   "What?"

   "You don't have Celiac?"

   "Not that it's any of your business, but I happen to be allergic to
wheat."

   "Right."

   "What?"

   "Look." I pointed, "You're in a bakery, in an old grain silo.  If you're
allergic to wheat, you wouldn't be standing there, you'd be carried out in
anaphlactic shock.  Much less able to tell me you're allergic to the
colloid particles in the air you're breathing."

   'Well," she thought, then stopped.  "What do you know?" Thinking, and
stomped off to avoid the conversation.

   "That was cruel!"

   "What?"

   "Mansplaining to her that way."

   "It's true!  Look, in a place like this gluten free is absolutely
meangingless.  Every inch of every surface is coated in gluten residue."

   "We cleaned it."

   "Yes, and then you baked bread in it, continuously since, how long you
been here?"

   "In this location?  Less than a year."

   "Okay, now how many tons of wheat flower have you processed here, since
then?"

   "The ovens vent directly outside."

   "Well, for the safety of your customers, you might want to wipe the
surfaces.  Any surfaces, and send that to a lab where you can test for
Gluten.  Because like it, or not, this is a bakery, and bakeries are death
traps to anyone who's sincerely sensitive to wheat products such as
Glutien, if you mix, and bake any wheat flour whatsoever in here."

   "Well, we can't have you turning away paying customers, so you're going
to have to leave."

   "Fine," found out what I needed to know anyhow.  If they care more about
advertising GF on the menu than protecting their customers from the actual
danger, I don't want to do business with them, anyway...

   ;

   {Look, if I'm going to write about 2 men falling in love, I have to deal
with who they are, and what they stand for.  Especially Everet, as a
subversion of an Archtypic Trope.  Not Christian Gray, pretty much the
diametric opposite.  Cares more about other people than his own wants, and
his wealth.  That's who he's going to fall in love with, I can't even start
getting to that, until you respect him for it too.  Because that will be
the basis for their love: mutual respect.  Not looks, bods, cock size, bank
accounts, what he drives, a good line to reel in the babes, or any of the
shit you were raised to look for in Mr.  Right.  This ain't him.

   Quite the contrary.

   Also, ^True story.  I happen to be the guyl that explained to her why
they need that warning on the menu, and got kicked out for "Mansplaining."
It's a BAKERY!  You see that stand mixer?  Yes, it's stirring around wheat
powder, and air.  There is no airtight seal for a stand mixer, so my advice
to you is if you're sensitive to Gluten, stay the fuck out of bakeries, in
decommissioned grain silos.  Don't brag about your hipster condition where
anyone, regardless of gonadal status, knows what they're talking about.}

   ;

   Tiffany {Anne Hathaway - "Somebody to Love" (Ella Enchanted OST)}

   "Stef?"

   "Huh!" she got up, "Yeah dad?"

   "Can you come talk to us in the kitchen?"

   I got up, seen it.  Not my favorite movie, or part of this movie, but it
was on.  The Family Channel, which we can watch with mom and dad here, with
their friend.

   In the kitchen, but it wasn't too loud to hear through the door.

   "What's this."

   "Go ahead and sit down."

   Mister Wright, daddy's boss.  He's rich.

   "What's he even doing here?"

   "Just hear him out, honey."

   "Now, I know it's been hard for you to find a job."

   "More like impossible, honestly you should just let me move in with my
boyfriend."

   "Stefanie, listen."

   "If I may, offer you another option, just take it or leave it, I can
only ask."

   "I'm listening." A chair scraped back.

   "Well, I have a discretionary fund for education, and some friends in
Baylor.  I understand your family is having trouble, financially saving for
things like college."

   "Oh, is that why they fight over money all the time."

   "Stef!"

   "Hhm!" I covered my giggle.

   "Times are tough all around, especially in fields like construction due
to the housing market collapse."

   "So, you want to send me to college?"

   "Well, unfortunately, there are some stipulations on the fund."

   "Here comes the catch." I could practically hear her roll her eyes.

   "Well, for a little background, my grandfather set it up, because he was
the first one in my family to go to college.  However, after he died, the
family set it up in escrow for our children, with provisions for others, if
they meet certain criteria."

   "I assume I meet the criteria?"

   "Well, I have to ask, before you sign, because in return you have to
agree to work with me, and it only covers certain specific majors, and
degrees."

   "It says here Hankamer School of Business."

   "Yes, that's one of the affiliates, but it's in Waco, so you'll have to
either commute, or."

   "Where do I sign?"

   "Well, on this page." Sounded like a tap on wood.  "Here."

   "If it'll get me out of this house."

   "And here." A page flipped back.

   "What kind of business?"

   "Well, as long as you're working for me, that's fairly open, until I can
pay back the loan."

   "You mean I don't have to pay it back?"

   "It's only a loan in the strictly legal sense.  I'll have to shuffle
some money around under the table, but I'll handle that.  At most, you can
intern with me for a couple years until you graduate."

   "Okay."

   She's lucky!

   "And when Tracy is ready to graduate, as long as she keeps her grades
up, and takes advanced maths like Calculus."

   Ew.

   "She may qualify for the fund as well."

   "What about Harry.  Jr.  I mean."

   "He's more interest in pursuing a Football Scholarship, or going into
Physical Training."

   "Or maybe construction as a fallback."

   "Oh."

   "We'll talk about it later."

   "We done?" I got up to head back to the couch.  Good, I didn't miss the
dancing part!

   "You can go."

   "Hihihn!" She looks really good, I hope I look like her some day.  She's
hot, and sexy.  I can't find any nudey scenes of her, but her tits look
great, even in that dress.

   "Actually, can I talk business with Mr.  Wright?"

   "Well, as long as you're going to be working with me, you can call me
Everet."

   "Okay, Everet."

   "Here's my card, call me whenever you have any questions."

   "Somebody tooOO!" It got loud.  "LOOoove!" So I couldn't hear any more.

   ;

   Harry (Senior)

   Everet, he tries to be humble, but then he starts talking about his
Uncle Jim.

   Okay, usually when someone asks you why you hate your family, they don't
then go on about how their uncle Jim passed a bill, that basically made it
illegal for long distance flights anywhere but DFW airport, then how much
money he made off Southwest Airlines when they decided to start connecting
non-stop to LA.

   That's Speaker of the House, James Wright.  3rd in line, if the
President and Vice president died, he would have run the country.  The
first House Speaker to ever resign, because of a Scandal, ethics inquiry,
and rumors of war proffiteering in Nicaragua, and Iran.

   No charges were ever filed on him for that.  "Yeah," he shrugs, "My
uncle Jim." Just for example, so when he talks about what he sees, what's
wrong with this country, I tend to listen.

   "So, that's why I only shop at HEB, and Central Market.  Not only is it
a Local Business, but their policies actually ensure that the profits stay
local, and their workers stay happy."

   Which begs the question, "Like what?"

   "F'rinstance, you know how they don't spread past Dallas, and Waco?"

   "Uh uh." My son, eats it all up like he never did in class.  "Well,"
fortunately, he doesn't mind lecturing "What most people don't know is why.
See, Old Howard." That's Butts, Edward being his middle name, "Bless his
soul, he wanted to be sure that his truck drivers could come back home, to
be with their families at the end of the day.  So, the chain only spreads
as far as they can drive, round trip, but the end of the day."

   I got to say, I am grateful for that, why as soon as the school year is
over, they can come down here.  To live, the house is shaping up nice, but
our neighbors the Mendozas decided they'd rather have the trailer right
away, and already got started planting.

   One of his pet project, he was on before we met, he's a Philanthropis,
in either language, but rather than buying up valuable land in say Waco to
develop condos for Baylor girls, he's getting parcels out here so that
Migrants can settle down, and here's the kicker: The racists around here,
just move out, without so much as a "There goes the neighborhood," so that
my daughters can grow up learning Spanish.

   Not high school Tex-mex Spansish, Espanglace, from native Spanish
speakers, because being bilingual is an actual advantage.  Less'n you're
prejudiced.

   "They're taking our jobs!"

   No, uh uh.  They pick up the ones we leave lying around.  My daughter,
Stephany started cleaning rooms in a Hotel, not because there weren't none
back in Arlington.  You kick a can down the street in Arlington Texas,
it'll bounce off the crub of one hotel, and roll into the paring lot of the
one next door, that's where all the truckers stop for the night on the way
across the country.

   Thing is, white girls don't even think about applying for that, it's
"Mexican work." So, no.  They don't take our jobs, they take their jobs,
and keep moving when the crops rotate out.  Unless you actually look, you
wouldn't know that they're the backbone of our economy, because they heard
there daddy yell "Go back to Mexico!" out the pickup on the way bye. 
Instead of their daddy telling them that if that happens, the state would
crash, the crops die, and we'd go back to the Dust Bowl, just like happened
the last time Tornado Alley tried that, because times were tough.

   Americans, are so selfish, and insecure, when times get tough, we make
it worse.  That's what started the stock market crash in the first place,
and when that wasn't enough, they tanked their crops, and created years of
Dust Storms, because they got depressed.

   Mexicans pack up, and looke for a place to find a better life.  Tejanos
anyway, Mexican Americans, Guatamalans, Nicaraguans, and even some from the
Guyanas.

   Now, if you go into a Hotel in Arlington, the first question is "Can you
speak Spanish?" If not, you can't even learn the job, because Abelita
doesn't speak English that well, and she was born there.

   Well, Abiline.  In 1953.

   Unless you happen to be friends with her great-grand daughters.

   ;

   Harrison (Junior)

   "Uncle Jim?"

   "What's up, sport?"

   "You remember when you stayed with us, way back when?"

   "Yup." Times were tough, just needed a place to crash, until I got set
up with one of my own.

   "Well, I been practicing what you taught me, and.  Well, I igured
something out."

   "Isat, right?"

   "Yeah, uh uh." He was all red in the face.  "Well," he looked down, "It
really helps if you.  Know what to think about."

   "What are you on about, son?" I took another drink.

   "You know, other guys like us?"

   "I don't know what you mean by, other guys like us, but.  Thanks for the
beer." I pitched the old one, pick it up tomorrow, wheni feel like getting
up.

   "You know.  Uh.  Gay?"

   "Haha, I ain't gay!  I got a wife'n kids, you know that."

   "Well," he nodded.  "That explains it."

   "Damn it," I didn't want to get up, "Explains what?"

   "You are." He sighed, "A child molester, then."

   "Boy, don't you ever!"

   "Son of a bitch!"

   "Uhn!"

   "Don't you hit me!"

   "Wugh!"

   "Don'tcu, Ever!"

   "Uhn!"

   "Touch me.  Again, you hear!"

   "Uhhhn!" I managed to crawl to the truck.  "Fuck, man!" Think he cracked
some ribs, but I managed to get up to the handle.  "Nh!" Get it open, and
slump in the seat.  "Huh!  Whew!" Shake my head, and blink.  Again, both
eyes this time.  "Now where's my keys." I think I can get to the hospital.
Get checked out.  "I fell."

   I'm drunk, they'll believe me.

   Little Harry Junior.  Why I remember when I useta bounce him on my knee.
He growed up, sucker punched me, when I was drunk.  But other'n that, he's
a chip off the old block.

   Damn shame, could've used the work.

   "Ah, damn." I done fucked up again.

   ;

   Mr.  Wright

   "You all right?" Now what's gotten into him?

   "Uh huh nh?" He's 16, too old to be crying like that, so I just patted
his back.  Sat down.  "What he say to you?"

   His uncle Jim, not much of a Coincidence.  Texas, most kids have an
uncle Jim, been a common name for generations.  "He's just drunk, he really
shouldn't be driving off like that."

   "I don't care, I hope he does buy a telephone pole, and die!"

   "Now, Harry." No need to call him Jr.  without his father around,
"That's not a nice thing to say."

   "Snh!" he hugged, me.  So, I hugged, him, and patted his bad.

   "Sh, it's all right.  You don't have to talk about it, if it's too
painful."

   "Thanks, mister Wright."

   "Call me Everet."

   "No," he looked up, wiped his eyes.  "It's true.  You are mister right.
You're perfect, and." he choked up, "And, I love you."

   He kissed me, and for a moment, I didn't know what to do.

   "There." I felt his shoulders.  "You feel better?"

   "Yeah.  Um.  You're not gay, are you.  Everet?"

   "No, of course not." I just hugged him.  "There's nothing gay about it."

   "Oh," He just curled up, thank goodness not in my lap.  "Okay."

   "I love you too." not as much as his daddy, but.  i guess i sated
calling him son, fondly.  He doesn't seem to mind, but I don't think my
lap's rated for the likes of him.  His emotional outburst notwitstanding,
he's not a little boy.  He's a young man, but a large one.  Like his daddy.
"Now, if you'll excuse me." I got up.  The chair wobbled, but he was nice
enough to hold it till I got steady.  "Thanks," I was a little wobbly too.
"Just got to dump my boot out." I made it to the end of the porch, but it
started swaying like a deck, and I fell over the rail.  "Hruhlk!  Kuh! 
Spt!" Wipe some, "Hmruahlugh!  Uhn." Chunks of, "Krawlk!"

   There, I think thats it.  Should've waited to wipe my mouth off on my
sleeve.

   "You all right?" He rubbed my back.

   "Yeah, you mind helpin' me up, hlWM?" False alarm.  "Hup, in.  In the
house."

   Yup, think I'll pass out on the couch.

   ;

   {IK, this alternate timeline stuff is complicated enough to follow
without the technical notes, but let me wrap up with one, for Continuity
sake.  Since this is actually foundational to the timeline, certain things
are different, while others are the same.  Like Stephanie being
stalked/exhibitionistically masturbating for her boyfriend Terrance. 
Instead of going out with an intersexed guyl, and having completely
different semisiblings, with a step father, instead of her real father's
creepy uncle stay with them after his wife lost her job on maternity leave,
and eventually losing their home...

   So, anyway history isn't something that happened, it continues to
happen, just like evolution.  Just generally so slowly, we don't really
notice in the present, or 1 lifetime, barring a quantul leap like an
Impactor from the Aten belt, or the development of Artificially Intelligent
Neuronano.  However, it can diverge, then reconverge at the same basic
point, whether we're talking about species as superficially similar as
Hedgehogs, and Echidnas, or technical advances like Smartphones.

   This is during a side branch, where PDAs, and Pagers diverged with
Cellular Text, before the Digital Mobile network neccessary for the modern
Smartphone.  Which brings us to the divergent point in both timelines: The
NEC Mobilepro (Used Without Permission) was a Japanese professional
display, with a Touchscreen (The first ones were monochrome) and Keyboard.
Then came the Moblepro Color, and so-forth.  About half a decade before the
modern tabtop netbook, they will-have-had (In the Atrocity Wars Timeline,
Earth-1 in the Basiatus continuum) developed an all in one device combining
a detachable touch-screen, peripheral plug, and play keyboard, hinge
mounted scrollhat, click stylus/powerpointer, wireless (Bluetooth)
connection from the input-to-display, Cellular Text/Phone radio, Ethernet
Modem, and (Key) board mounted pinhole camera.  (What we'd call a Webcam.)
That's the Keybook (F) for Fictional Trademark.

   For professionals, hence the name Mobile-Pro.  Here in America, domestic
companies like Motorola, will-have-had rushed to catch up, shortly after
Blackberry was basically smothered in it's crib.  The Texas Instruments
model being in a distinctive Metallic yellow (Emulating Titanium Nitride)
or "Ti Gold" finish, as well as other available fashion color cases.

   Also, [INS] is essentually [IDK] Txt shorthand that Amanda Hunt uses,
because she's from this universe as well.  In fact, she's still alive,
because she hasn't been captured yet.  Fortunately, she's in Northern
California hunting the Hunger and Heroin rapist, instead of in central
Texas where she can interfere with this storyline.

   Incidentally, that's why Harry was born instead of Henessie, in this
timeline.  Because She hasn't gone back in time, then through hystery to
ultimately possess Euphrat, and make hir into a living weapon, because
that's what she does, eventually.  She's still in the serial psychotic
revenge killing stage where she lured rapists with her own body to fuck
them to death with semi-serrated daggers.  Before she was captured,
partially converted into a Cyberserker, murdered, possessed and copied by
Basiatis.  (Or actually a copy of IT.) To take Her back in time, basically
as IT's id.
   But that's neither her, nor now.  So, moving on...}