“Good. You’re home. When Ray calls, whatever he says about catching me over at his place getting spit-roasted on his time, you tell him it was all a big misunderstanding.”

“Spit-roasted?”

“That’s what Ray called it. I was just the messenger.”

“That must’ve been some message.”

“It was nothing. A little miscommunication.”

“Which got you spit-roasted?”

“It’s not as bad as you make it sound.”

“So how is it you end up with a dick in each end—by accident?”

“I didn’t say it was an accident, I said it was a misunderstanding.”

“What’s the difference?”

“Calm down and I’ll tell you. Elinore called me today around lunchtime all in a panic.”

“Of course. Elinore.”

“It’s not always her. But today it was. She was stuck getting her nails done, and the guys were at her place to collect for the sun deck they’d put in. She was still at the salon and didn’t want them leaving before she got there. I told her I could pay them, but that she’d have to pay me right back when she got home. She said no, no, no, she had to take care of them herself before Ray found out or he’d be sooooo pissed.”

“Take care of them herself?”

“Take care of them herself. Or Ray would be pissed at her.”

“We’re talking her taking care of them. Herself.”

“I keep saying that, Earl. Or Ray would be pissed.”

“And these guys were—who?”

“You know them. You see them around all the time. Donny and Slim. A couple of kids from the college. Slim runs track, and Donny’s on the swim team. They hire out for construction in their off-season.”

“What exactly did she expect you to do about it?”

“Just keep them there, she said, and under no circumstances let them leave or call Ray.”

“Okay, now I see. I see. That’s how it ended up being you getting yourself spit-roasted.”

“No, you don’t see. That’s not it at all.”

“But she didn’t have the money, probably spent it all on her nails, and now she’s got to go the extra mile with these guys. And she sweet-talked you into doing it.”

“That’s not it at all, Earl. If you’d hush up, I’m telling you how it was. It’s nothing but a big misunderstanding, no matter what Ray thinks he saw.”

“So he didn’t see you getting spit-roasted?”

“Calm down and I’ll tell you exactly what happened.”

“Not every single detail.”

“Yes, every single detail. I won’t have Ray throwing in stuff that him and his over-active imagination dream up. Anyway—I told her I could do that. Stall them, I mean. Get out a couple of beers or something. Chat ‘em up.”

“Chat ‘em up.”

“That’s all. Just tell them she’s running a little late and for them not to leave. So I went over next door to do just that. Deliver the message, get a couple of beers out for them. Wait for Elinore.”

“How was it exactly they ended up with their dicks in your—?”

“I told you. It wasn’t planned. Didn’t I say it was a big misunderstanding? When I got inside the trailer, they were sitting on the sofa having a smoke—completely naked. Completely. Weren’t even wearing their tool belts.”

“Because—Ray lets them shower at his place when they’re working on days they have to get back to class.”

“Well, I know that now, Earl. But at the time, seeing them there like that, and Elinore saying she’d ‘take care of them herself.’ What was I supposed to think?”

“You might’ve thought to ask them why they weren’t wearing any clothes.”

“Well, I’m sorry I didn’t think of that. It kind of took my breath away, seeing them there like that, all buff and tanned, those thighs of theirs hard as smoked hams, covering their packaged goods with their ball caps.”

“That was gentlemanly of them.”

“I shaded my eyes, Earl, and I told them to relax. I’m just the messenger. I told them Elinore’s on her way. Of course, you and I both know she wasn’t. I offered them a couple of beers from her fridge, but Donny said no, thanks, they should just get dressed and go see Ray. I say no, Elinore’ll be here any minute. But—I’m dreaming if I think that it’s the least bit true. I’m racking my brain for something to make them sit still.”

“Why? You gave them the message.”

“Because Elinore’s counting on me to make them to stay put. So, Donny goes to scooting off the sofa, keeping his hat covering himself, and I tell him that Elinore said I was supposed to sit on them if they tried to leave.”

“Did she actually say that?”

“Or course not. But I had to say something. Well, that struck Slim as funny and he made like he was going to get up, too. So—I did—I sat on him.”

“Slim’s not wearing a stitch and you sat on him.”

“Just enough to keep him from getting up. Which was all in fun, and got Donny laughing, saying ‘guess you’ll have to sit on me, too.’ So I swung my legs over his, and said, both of you, just stay put. But—honest—it was all in fun.”

“Forgot all about the beers?”

“No, I didn’t. I made both of them promise not to move and I’d get us all something cold from the fridge while we wait. I gave them a little wag with my finger, scolding them, and them looking all sideways, teasing me.”

“If Donny didn’t have his pants, he wouldn’t have his keys. You could’ve locked their clothes in their truck.”

“I’ll remember that for next time, okay? But I didn’t. I did the next best thing. I gave them the beers and then sat myself right down between them.”

“Them still covering themselves with their hats?”

“Of course.”

“But I’m not much for conversation with a couple of boys hiding their peckers under their hats. You know how I get when I’m nervous. I have to keep my hands busy. So, I start running my fingertips along the tops of their thighs, trying to think what I can talk about. First Donny, then Slim, switching my beer from one hand to the other, trying to make it look natural.”

“Seems a looooong way from just being a messenger.”

“I promised Elinore I’d keep them there. But what surprised me? Completely not expecting it?”

“What?”

“I could see them getting goose pimples! Those legs of theirs all brown and hard and me being almost twice their age, and I’m giving them goose pimples like they’re kids.”

“Don’t know your own strength.”

“I guess I don’t. Anyway—I started moving my fingers down the insides of their legs.”

“Because—?”

“Because—Earl—I got them to sit still.”

“And they’re not thinking it’s the least bit unusual?”

“Well—Donny did flinch a little when I reached that spot there at the crease between his leg and his belly, then he said to Slim that they ought to be going and he made as if to move off the sofa, but Slim’s the one that asked if I ever drove a stick shift. He’s looking all innocent, but I knew what he meant, and I said not with my left hand, but I figure it works the same way. So I reach under his hat. And just so’s Donny doesn’t feel left out, I reach under his hat. I’ve got hold of them both and they are both stiff as roofing hammers.”

“Because you just being a good messenger.”

“Exactly. Thank you. So, there I am with Donny’s cock in my right hand and Slim’s cock in my left, starting to stroke them, but casual-like, not paying close attention, so it doesn’t seem like I’m serious. Like I just happen to find something under those hats.”

“What happened to your beer?”

“What do you think? I finished it. I needed both hands free, Earl. You’re not using your head. But—I don’t want them to get the wrong idea.”

“Wrong idea?”

“Hey, I’m still thinking Elinore’s the one who’s going to ‘take care of them.’ Not me.”

“But she’s not there yet.”

“No, she is not. So I start making small talk.”

“I thought you got nervous making ‘small talk.’

“Not when my hands have something to do, Earl. Anyway, I start chit-chatting, keeping it work-related. Asking things like was it a lot of trouble putting in the deck? How did they like working for Elinore? That kind of thing.”

“Just to keep them talking.”

“Right. Trying to keep their minds from wandering. Deciding they have to go. I keep on stroking the two of them while they tell me all about putting in the support posts, nailing in the rim joists, setting the rail cap, and I’m going along, saying, ‘I see, mm-hmm, isn’t that interesting,’ while I’m glancing toward the front door watching for Elinore. Good thing I twirled batons in high school. Taught me to concentrate on two separate things at once. I’m sliding up one cock and down the other, working them like a pair of joysticks. I’m fingering the spot just under the tip, thumbing the head. Running my nails up and down the shafts, fingering their balls. Like I’m not thinking about it.”

“I said I don’t need so much detail.”

“And I said, I don’t want any of Ray’s embellishments finding their way into that brain pan of yours. Where was I? Oh—dry—I could feel I was rubbing them dry. They’re too polite to say anything, but that won’t last. So I use that little drip at the tip that always precedes the festivities, using it to keep them slick. That stuff does have its uses.”