I'd really appreciate comments on my stuff -constructive or anyhow.
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I used to work for the federal government, doing construction and maintenance on radio towers for the Department of Transport. A couple of years ago they privatized the whole section, and I ended up with the choice between working for whoever took it over or taking the work myself. Well, I took it on and now actually do less work for more money. The catch is if there's a problem in the middle of winter, I've often only got a reduced crew available to deal with it.
High winds on iced-over antennas caused two of them to break on a tower aways out of Prince George, and I had to go replace them. I took a fellow along that works for me in the summer. We did half the job but had to call it a day when the wind and snow got too fierce to see what we were doing.
We adjourned to the pub -the infamous Inn of the North -known locally as the End of the North. My guy isn't much of a beer drinker, and left for some supper. Myself when I get a few brews down, tend to lose interest in food. Usually I just grab a burger in the bar.
I'd been there a couple of hours, and when I get semi-drunk I get careless, and I guess I've been staring at this guy a couple of tables over -too often and for too long. The guy is easy on the eyes though, he's muscular, with a deep tan, curly black hair under a black cowboy hat. He has a snub nose on a bit of a baby face -but that's saved by a wide moustache. At about five seven or so, he looks to be a little smaller than me, and when he goes for cigarettes I see he's bowlegged, too, and has a tight little ass at the top of his bandy legs.
I go to the can to unload some of the beer, and when I'm coming out I meet him going in. "You been fuckin' starin' at me all night," he snarls. "Whatta ya want, asshole?" "Nothin' much," I tell him.
Well, semi-drunk is sometimes more than semi-stupid, and I say, "I been wonderin' what your asshole would feel like on my cock, you little prick."
He howls and throws a punch I easily dodge. I throw one of my own and I don't miss. I knock him on his ass on top of a tablefull of beer. This produces the usual hullaballoo, a whole lot of spilled beer, cursing, scraping chairs and broken glass. Somebody grabs me, I pull away, lose my balance and land on top of the cowboy on the knocked-over table.
Trying to get up, we struggle amid all the beer and broken beer glasses. When they pull us out of the mess his face is covered in blood and me, I'm bleeding like a stuck pig from a cut on my forehead.
My guy Jerry -back from supper, sees what's going on, and comes charging over. Him and a couple of bouncers get there at the same time. The idiot cowboy is no longer in fighting mode, and all three of us get thrown out on our asses. Jerry takes a look and decides he'd better take us to the emergency to get looked at proper.
On the way to the hospital, the three of us are in the cab of my truck. With just one seat, we're jammed in fairly tight and I'm in the middle. After a few minutes, I feel the cowboy's knee against mine. I move away a bit, but a minute or two later, I feel it again. I glance over at him. He's looking at me, and despite the bloody face, I think I see a strange half smile. He looks away, and moves his leg away as well.
The Emergency Ward is the usual laugh riot on a saturday night. A whining kid with a broken arm with his mother, a couple of whores, one clutching her hand and weeping, the other swearing a blue streak, a strung-out druggy or two, various old parties looking distraught, some old guy moaning in the corner, and a drunk puking in the hall. Nothing very exciting.
They clean him up first, and he's not as bad off as it looks. He's got several small cuts on his face from the broken beer glasses and one about an inch long on his neck, -along with a broken nose, I note with some satisfaction. They stitch him up, slap a plaster over his nose, apply a few bandaids, and give him some pills for any pain he might have.
Before they cleaned him up, he looked like he'd stuck his head in a cement mixer while I, seeing my image in a mirror as the doc sews me up, think I look downright fetching. I get eight stitches, but one bandaid will cover it up. That, and a few minor cuts stopped with styptic.
I look over at him and laugh. "Don't fuckin' make me laugh, pervert," he mutters. "What were we fightin' about anyways?"
"Fucked if I know," I say, and smile. I can't keep the smirk off my face. A broken nose is gonna make him cuter than ever.
"I could stand another beer or three," he says. "Ya wanta risk some more?" "Why not?" I reply, "You done tryin' to beat me up?"
"I told ya, don't make me laugh," he says, -and away we go.
Back at the Inn of the North, getting in through a different entrance than the one we were thrown out of, Jerry says to me -"I've had enough excitement for tonight. You guys kill each other if you want, I'm gonna hit the sack. See you in the morning."
The cowboy and I put back a few more beer without saying much. After a while Mark, that's his name, turns to me and says with a smile, "So what was your plan, pervert? After you fucked me and sucked my cock, what did you have in mind?"
"I dunno," I tell him, "Maybe kiss your ass or somethin'. I don't plan ahead, I like to improvise."
After a long pause, he leans over and says, real low, "So, you wanna go somewhere, do somethin?"
I've got a box of beer in the truck. Mark says he wants a real drink, so he picks up a bottle of rye. I've told him what I'm doing in Prince George, and he says, "Show me your fuckin' tower, why don't ya?" So we take my truck up the mountain, and I show him the tower I'm working on. He says, "You're fulla crap. You don't go up that."
"Oh yeah?" I say, "C'mon, chickenshit, it's only two hundred feet. I'll race ya to the top!"
"Alright, alright," he says, "I believe ya. It's too fuckin' cold for that BS."
Back in the warm truck, I down another beer, Mark sips from the bottle, and we sit there quietly. I get out to take a leak, and he comes with me. When we're done, he says, "So when are you gonna suck my dick?"
For some dumb reason, I do him out there in the cold. It's fuckin' freezing, but his nifty dick is hotter'n a firecracker and doesn't take much longer than one to go off. When I straighten up, -without a word he reaches over to my dick. Then he mutters, "Maybe I'll give it a shot," and "I don't
do this
