Steve Cochran was a natural entrepreneur.

 

In elementary school, he delivered newspapers in spite of frigid winter weather and scorching summer heat. His charm and persuasiveness convinced many residents in his neighborhood to subscribe to the newspaper. As a result, he doubled the number of his customers within a year. It was the practice at the time that a boy (There were no girls delivering papers then.) would have to buy a route from the departing paper boy. Larger routes cost more money so Steve made a handsome profit when he sold it. His windfall, added to what he saved during the year, went straight into the bank.

 

While in high school, he worked in his father's small (and marginally profitable) auto repair business. There, he taught his father the fundamentals of running a business: make sure the customers left happy, maintain tight control of inventory, keep records that could be analyzed for improving efficiency, and be perceptive to emerging trends that could be leveraged for growth of the business. During the summers, however, he struck out on his own and set up a yard care business that soon grew to 15 high school and college age employees.

 

He expanded from yard care to landscaping during his college years and had several crews working for him. He earned all of his college expenses during the summer months and was still able to put a lot of money into the bank. When he graduated from college, he owned (with his bank holding a mortgage) a greenhouse, a retail store, a fleet of trucks, and all the equipment necessary to satisfy the needs of an increasing base of loyal customers. If that sounds improbable, you don't appreciate Steve's, ambition, initiative, and interpersonal skills.

 

One sacrifice he made to achieve his success was his social life. He dated occasionally in high school—invariably the most attractive and popular girls—but only to maintain the respect of other students in the cauldron of teen peer pressure. The girls he dated (seldom more than once) were spellbound by his good looks, his manners, and personality. Many girls were disappointed that he didn't kiss them, much less suggest more intimate contact. What they and everyone else didn't know was that Steve had no interest at all in female companionship. The occasional date was just for show. His real interest lay elsewhere, was unmentionable, and he would pursue it when the time was right. The time was not right through his college years because he was occupied with his fledgling business and a demanding study schedule. That provided a convenient excuse to parents and friends for not dating until he got his degree.

 

Three years after graduation, Steve's business had become a regional powerhouse with customers in five counties. He honed his business skills during that time, focusing on the affluent customer, professionals who appreciated the very best and not insignificantly, were willing to pay handsomely to get it. Some were demanding but Steve had also been able to attract and train employees to cope with fussy clients. His reputation as a business leader in the community was secure.

 

But he tired of the routine of running his business. His real joy was starting something and building it. He needed something different, something more challenging. So when three of his managers offered to buy the business, Steve was receptive to the idea. All that remained was to agree on a price.

 

He moved to Miami as a 22-year-old millionaire, bought a beachfront condo, and began to enjoy the balmy climate. After less than two weeks, however, he was bored and frustrated. He needed a new venture on which to apply his insatiable ambition. None, however, were evident or appealing.

 

On a fateful day in late summer, he was watching a group of nearly naked hunks play volleyball on the beach. He admired their physiques and athletic ability. He engaged in a mental game, ranking them from most to least handsome. He often did that but the criteria had always been which employee was most deserving of promotion. This was different. He allowed himself to consider their physical attributes and desirability as a bed mate.  Having identified the number one specimen, he let his imagination roam, trying to visualize him naked, erect, and lying in bed. That mental image aroused him. He discretely adjusted his own erect cock to a more comfortable position. He then imagined himself joining the embodiment of masculine beauty in bed, exploring with his eyes and hands the firm muscles and ... and what? Sadly, his mental imagery failed him since he had no experience and wasn't sure what to do. He'd never had a gay experience and was unsure of what happens or how it feels. His only sexual outlet had been masturbation. He had been too busy building his business to seek a sex partner and feared that becoming known as a gay man would jeopardize the growth of his business.

 

After a while, he wandered off to find a bar for a cold brew. He entered the first place he found, a rather dingy place in a run-down neighborhood but his objective was a refreshing, cold beer, not elegant dining. He sat at the bar and ordered a beer. Influenced by his recent fantasy of being in bed with a handsome hunk, he took special notice of the bartender who was quite handsome. Steve guessed that bartender was perhaps in his early 30's.  He was not as muscular as the hunks on the beach but was nevertheless attractive.

 

He downed his beer quickly and ordered another. After his third beer, the bartender struck up a conversation with him (there being only two other patrons in the bar to be served).

 

"Not too busy today, is it?" Steve asked.

 

"No," moaned the barkeeper. "Been like this all summer. Can't make ends meet. I'm thinking of bailing out and getting a job someplace. A job that'll give me a steady paycheck."

 

"You own the place, then?" Steve asked.

 

"For the time being," the bar owner sighed. "I expect an eviction notice any day now. I owe the bastard landlord three months' rent."

 

"Seems to me," Steve said, "that all you need is to spruce up the place and the right kind of advertising. That'll bring in the beach crowd and, for that matter, the whole neighborhood."

 

"Sure," the barman said sarcastically. "And how am I s'posed to do that when I can't even pay the rent?"

 

Being the owner or part-owner of a bar was not the sort of challenge Steve was seeking but, in spite of the effect of three beers, he recognized an opportunity when he saw one. He knew of the planned construction of two upscale hotels nearby that would transform the entire neighborhood. He also knew that timing was critical; establishing the bar as a go-to watering hole before the area was gentrified would provide a substantial competitive advantage over the late-comers.

 

"Tell you what," Steve began. "Take me in as a partner and I'll freshen up the bar to make it more appealing. When that's done, I'll pay for the advertising. What've you got to lose? You can tell me no and lose the bar or you can accept my offer and—I promise—you'll be part owner of a very popular and very profitable bar."

 

The man stared at Steve for a long time, disbelief tinged with suspicion in his eyes. Finally, he asked, "Why? Why do you want to put money into this dump?"

 

Diplomatically, Steve replied, "It's not a dump. It's a diamond in the rough. What it needs is a little investment. And I'm looking for something to invest in. How 'bout it?"

 

"You're crazy!" the confused bar owner exclaimed. "You can't be serious. It's the booze talking. When you sober up, you'll realize how foolish your offer is. Now if you'll excuse me, I got two other customers who need refills."

 

"Wait," Steve said. "At least let me explain my ideas for the place. And I'll do that when I'm sober. Would you be willing to come to my condo after you close up for the night? We can talk about it more ... when I'm sober. Your other choice is to forget about me and lose the bar."

 

The bar owner realized that this was his only chance to save the bar even if he would have to take on a partner. He agreed to meet with the crazy stranger after closing up the bar.

 

"Great!" Steve exclaimed. "Here's my address. Tell the doorman you've come to see Steve Cochran. I'll let him know I'm expecting you. Who shall I say is coming?"

 

"Rod Jackson ... Full name is Rodney Jackson but I hate 'Rodney'."

 

"Very pleased to meet you, Rod.  I'll be waiting for you."

 

Rod arrived at Steve's place at 1:30 the following morning, still very dubious about this crazy guy and his crazier offer. In the ensuing hours, Steve had been busy gathering information and making plans. He welcomed his guest (and, he hoped, his new partner) and said, "Thanks for coming. I hope your being late won't upset your wife."

 

"Ain't married anymore, thank God. Divorced about a year ago."

 

"I'm sorry," Steve said. "But maybe I shouldn't be. Sounds like you're happier without her."

 

"That I am. Gave me a chance to spend the time it took to run the bar. But that turned sour, too. Which is why I'm here. Were you really serious about fixing up the place and advertising and all that?"

 

"Indeed I was. In fact, I've gotten very excited about the possibilities."

 

"And what do you know about running a bar?" Rod challenged.

 

"Yesterday? Nothing. Right now? Enough to have some ideas that will make us both a pot full of money. I've done a little investigation and I've hatched some ideas. Wanna hear them?"

 

"Won't do no harm to listen, I guess."

 

"Okay," Steve said, eager to explain his vision for the new venture. "First, I'll catch you up on the rent. Next, we'll expand into the empty shop next door. I've talked to the landlord who's anxious to rent the place. At a reasonable rate."

 

"How'd you know who the landlord was?" Rod asked.

 

"Easy. I called the phone number on the For Rent sign. We remove the wall to double the size of the bar. Then, we do a complete remodel—new bar with more stools, new lighting, booths, tables and chairs—the whole place will be fresh and inviting. With the added space, we can put in a sound system, a small dance floor, and a stage. The entertainment will draw crowds and boost the sale of liquor."

 

"Whoa!" Rod interrupted. "You're talking big bucks. I can't afford all that!"

 

"But I can," Steve countered. "Believe me. I wouldn't do it if I wasn't absolutely convinced that my investment would pay off. The only thing I ask is to be a 50/50 partner, sharing the routine expenses of the bar when the expansion and remodeling are finished and sharing the profits, which, by the way, are bound to come rolling in."

 

"Hold on!" Rod exclaimed. "You expect me to believe that you'd sink all that money into the place for only half ownership? What's the catch?"

 

"No catch. I provide the money to remodel the bar. You provide the experience in running it. As you said, I don't know much about managing a bar but you do. So, you see, we're both contributing to the success. I think a 50/50 split is fair. Are you okay with that?"

 

"Keep talking," Rod said noncommittally.

 

"I'll take that as a yes," Steve said hopefully. "Now comes the twist that will set us apart from all the other bars in the area ... and the 'hook' that will fill the new bar with paying customers. We hire some young hunks for bartenders and waiters. They'll be dressed in tight fitting Lycra pants—the kind cyclists wear—no shirt, just bare flesh above the waist. We'll hire only the best looking ones; we can easily train the waiters but the bartenders might require more extensive training. The entertainment will be other studs dancing seductively on the stage. No full nudity. Nothing more revealing that a G-string but plenty of sexy gyrations."

 

"Oh my God!" exclaimed Rod. "You're talking about a gay bar!"

 

"Yes. As I've said, I've done some investigation. There's nothing like it within miles but there are a lot of gay men looking for a place to hang out. If we opened a plain, straight bar we'd compete with a dozen similar bars nearby. We'll provide a place that's completely missing and that would attract a lot of business."

 

"But a gay bar. That's ..." Rod mumbled, unable to voice his feelings.

 

"I figured that might turn you off. Do you have something against gay men?"

 

Rod dropped his eyes to the floor and sat silently for several moments.

 

"Well?" Steve asked impatiently. "Do you?"

 

"No," Rod said without looking up.

 

"So what's your problem with running a gay bar ... with a gay partner?"

 

Rod's eyes shot up, his jaw dropped, and he stared at Steve incredulously. "You're gay?" he asked.

 

"Yes. I don't broadcast it but I don't conceal it, either."

 

"Sonofabitch!" Rod gasped. "So am I. That's what caused my divorce. My wife was gone for the evening to some church function. She came home early 'cause she got sick. She caught me and another guy in bed. He'd just shot his load into my mouth and I was on the verge of doing the same to him. She screamed some filthy insults and filed for divorce the next day. As long as I'm telling you the sad truth, let me say something else. When you walked into the bar, I almost got hard looking at you. The more I talked to you, the more I felt like I wanted to take you to bed. But, of course, I knew that was too far-fetched. So there's my hang up with your idea. I appreciate your offer. I would be glad to have you as a partner ... in the business, I mean. But to tell the truth, I'm not sure I could work with you. I'd always be thinking of what it would be like to have sex with you instead of thinking about running the bar. Therefore, I don't think we could..."

 

Steve interrupted, "Listen, Rod. I was attracted to you, also. But that has nothing to do with my ideas for a gay bar. That idea is strictly business to me. I want to be your partner in the business. But as long as we're being honest with each other, there's a part of me, a personal part. I would very much like you to spend the night with me ... just for some sex ... with no obligation to do it again unless you want to. Let's not even think about a long-term commitment. Do you think we can be business partners and sex buddies ... without getting the two mixed up?"

 

"Maybe. I don't know for sure," Rod replied. "Don't get me wrong, I'd like that. But I can't help thinking you're using sex to win me over. Just to get me agree to your plan, I mean."

 

"No!" Steve said emphatically. "I want you to accept me as a business partner only if you believe we can work together. I asked you to spend the night for another reason. Let me explain. I'm embarrassed to admit this, but I've never been with a man. Not even in high school or college. I'm a virgin, Rod. But I crave man-to-man sex. Would you stay the night with me? Show me what it's like to share our bodies? Teach me how to experience the joy of gay sex?"

 

"Does a bear shit in the woods? Of course I will."

 

Both men beamed, their broad smiles virtually shouted their happiness. Steve rose from his chair and extended a hand to Rod who grasped it and stood. Steve led his guest to the bedroom. Even before they got there, each of them felt the stirrings in his crotch as he anticipated the night ahead of them.

 

*******

 

As morning dawned and the rising sun threw beams of light across their naked bodies, it was clear they had fallen asleep with arms and legs intertwined and had not broken their grasp on each other. Steve, no longer a virgin, stirred and gradually gained consciousness. As he did, Rod's remarkably fit body pressed against his own triggered memories of the sheer joy he had experienced just hours before. He wasn't thinking of his plans for the business partnership; his only thoughts revolved around how much he enjoyed being with another man ... and Rod in particular who was sexy as hell and knows how to thoroughly satisfy a bed mate. He did not immediately rise from the bed as was his normal habit. Instead, he lingered to enjoy to the fullest having a naked man in his arms, a man who had introduced him to the exhilaration and sheer joy of sexual intimacy, a man with whom he had explored a new trail—from foreplay to delicious sexual contact, to a mind-blowing orgasm, and then slowly down to blissful togetherness.

 

For nearly half an hour, his thoughts centered on a mystery: "All my business success, all my wealth, all the respect from other people paled in comparison to the happiness I feel. How can that be? One night of sex surpasses years of success in school and business?" It was a difficult mystery to solve.

 

Before he could solve the mystery, he realized that he desperately needed to go to the bathroom. Most reluctantly, he carefully extracted himself from Rod's embrace so as not to wake him. Returning to the bedroom, Rod's naked body that now sported a morning woody drew him irresistibly back into bed and back into the tangle of arms and legs he had unwillingly left moments before. He lay there for a long time admiring Rod's body, remembering the ecstasy they had shared, and wondering ... wondering what the future might bring. Would he and Rod become business partners? Would they continue to have sex? He even dared to think, might it be possible that he and Rod would live together as a loving couple?

 

Steve couldn't remember lingering so long in bed. He was normally up and going full speed within minutes of awakening. But linger he did to enjoy the pure pleasure of cuddling with a man. Lost in thoughts of his first gay experience and the potential for many more, he didn't notice Rod stir. He was only aware of his guest's awakening when Rod pulled him into a tight hug and kissed him long and passionately. The kiss escalated into a repeat of the previous night's performance.

 

By the time breakfast was over, Steve and Rod had agreed to a business partnership. Rod was still uncertain about the viability of an expanded gay bar but Steve's confidence and enthusiasm won him over. They joked about the name for the bar—the first part of Steve's last name and Rod's first name: CochRod—but settled on a name that would immediately identify what it was: The Man Cave.

 

They also agreed to continue having sex as long as both of them were willing but there could be no guarantee of a long-term commitment. Each promised to be honest with each other should either decide to have sex with another person.

 

*******

 

In a surprisingly short time, all the details and architectural drawings were completed and contractors were selected to transform "Rod's Bar" into "The Man Cave." Rod still had a few worries about whether the venture would succeed but Steve's enthusiasm and confidence was the momentum that kept the plan alive. They continued to have sex, which only got better as each learned the best way of satisfying his bed partner.

 

It was during their third night together, as they lay blissfully coming down from intense orgasms, that Rod said, "I've got to go to Fort Lauderdale tomorrow. I need to straighten out our order for beer mugs and glasses."

 

Steve propped himself up on one elbow, looked down at Rod, and said, "That's fine. But we're having sex right now. Didn't we agree to keep business and sex separate?"

 

"Yes, but ..."

 

"Don't get me wrong," Steve interrupted. "I thoroughly enjoy sex with you and hope we can keep it up. Let's not take away from it by talking about business. Or, for that matter let's keep sex out of our business partnership. I think it will only cause problems ... for the business and for us. I guess I'm asking you to be two people—rational business owner during the day and fantastic lover at night. Can you do that?"

 

"I'll try, Steve. But it'll be hard. Whenever I look at you during the day, I can't help thinking about getting in bed with you."

 

"I'll take that as a compliment. I often think the same thing when I look at you. But for the sake of the business and to protect what we enjoy in bed, we have to focus exclusively on either the business or pleasure, never both at the same time."

 

"I know you're right, Steve. I guess I'll just have to behave myself."

 

"Speaking of behavior, why don't you give me one of your spelunking good-night kisses."

 

Rod chuckled and complied. They settled in for a night's rest with the usual entwining of arms and legs.

 

******

 

During the next few weeks, Steve orchestrated an advertising blitz and recruited waiters and erotic dancers. Rod took charge of securing permits, supervising the construction crews, and ordering new furniture, fixtures, supplies, and booze. Their days were long and hectic as they attended to the interminable details of re-inventing the bar. Even Rod did not become too distracted by thoughts of his evenings alone with Steve. But, after a long day's coping with one problem after another both men were quite willing to leave it all behind and take pleasure with each other in bed.

 

Only two incidents threatened their relationships (business and pleasure) during the preparations to launch "The Man Cave."

 

The first happened over lunch when Rod said, "Remember I told you that my ex caught me in bed with another guy. Well, that guy called me this morning. He wanted us to get together again."

 

Steve responded immediately. "Do you want to? It's okay with me."

 

Rod was crushed. Before Steve's comment, he was going to say that he had turned down the invitation and that he had everything he wanted and more with somebody else. "You don't care?" he exclaimed.

 

"I don't own you, Rod. I can't dictate what you do. That's all I meant. If you want..."

 

"God damn it, Steve!" Rod almost shouted. "You DO own me! You own my heart. You own my mind. You've become the center of my life and I'd never do anything to lose you. I told the guy, 'no way' we could get together. I'm happy with you. If you cut me loose, I ... I ... it would be the end of my world."

 

"Calm down, Rod. I apologize for what I said. I feel the same way about you. But because I want you to be happy, I'd let you do it. I wouldn't like it but I'd let you do it. And let me say one more thing. I thank you and admire you for being honest with me about the phone call."

 

Threat one was eliminated.

 

Threat two happened when Steve was auditioning dancers. A very well-built young man had completed his routine and stood on stage wearing only a G-string that couldn't conceal a huge package. "Thank you, Brad, but I'm afraid we can't use you. You've certainly got the body but you don't have the moves. Come see us again after you've had some dance lessons."

 

The would-be dancer stripped off his G-string and cooed, "Would this change your mind?" He swayed his hips causing his massive cock and balls to sway back and forth.

 

"Very impressive equipment, young man but irrelevant. We don't allow full nudity."

 

Brad jumped down from the stage and strutted over to stand in front of Steve. That's when Rod came out from the store room to see a naked, muscular stud wagging his long, fat, half-hard cock within inches of Steve's face. He saw Steve grasp the young man's cock and stroke it. Unfortunately, Rod couldn't hear Steve's comment over the loud music still blaring from the speakers above the stage. He turned and went back into the storeroom thoroughly upset.

 

"You've got an impressive tool there," Steve said as he stroked it. "I'm sure there are many uses to which you can put it. But none of those uses belong here." He stood, pointed to the entrance door, and forcefully said, "Get dressed. Goodbye."

 

That evening over supper, Rod was quiet and moody. "Bad day?" Steve asked.

 

"You could say that," Rod replied sarcastically.

 

"Wanna talk about it before we go to bed?"

 

Rod's disappointment and jealousy had been simmering most of the day and it erupted when he replied angrily, "You bet your sweet ass I wanna talk about it! I saw you fondling that dancer. No, not fondling, you were jerking him off. You probably made arrangements to meet him some time. He's got an impressive cock that sure puts mine to shame."

 

Steve was stunned more by Rod's anger than by having been seen touching the dancer's cock. But he controlled his urge to fire back angrily. Very calmly, he said, "Listen, let's get things straight. You're the only man in my life. I have never and will never cheat on you. There's one thing that's essential in a business partnership or a personal relationship. That's trust. Without trust, there's no hope. You saw me touch a dancer's cock. But let me be very clear. I was not aroused. In fact, I was repulsed by his brazen attempt to get a job that I had already said he couldn't have. I touched him to emphasize what I was telling him—that he had great equipment but there was no place for it in our bar. I shouldn't have touched him and I apologize. I told him in no uncertain terms to get lost. You've jumped to conclusions that are simply not true. If you ever doubt my loyalty to you again, please—please—talk to me. Don't let things boil over into anger."

 

So convincing was Steve's explanation and sincerity that Rod was ashamed of fabricating the worst out of just a snippet of an event. "I'm sorry," he said. "I should have trusted you. I shouldn't have assumed you were coming on to each other. It's just that you mean so much to me. I know we agreed that there was no long-term commitment between us but, dammit all, I don't want to lose you to a younger guy with a bigger cock."

 

"Apology accepted," Steve said. "If you will forgive me for touching the guy. That was a foolish mistake. Sure, he was younger than you and had a bigger cock but he had lacked what you have: character. He was immature. He was willing to stoop to gross, inappropriate behavior to get a job that he had no talent for. He was disgusting. You, on the other hand, are honest. You have admirable character. And, by the way, you're sexy as hell. In short, Rod, you're everything I want and more in a companion. Now let's put it all behind us and go to bed early 'cause I'm horny.

 

*******

 

Preparations for the re-opening of the bar continued and both men were impatient for the Grand Opening Gala, scheduled for a Friday night. Rod would manage the operation of the bar including inventory and supervision of the bartenders and waiters. Steve would supervise the entertainers, be in charge of marketing, keep the financial records, and act as official host by chatting up the patrons to be sure they were happy enough to spread the word about the bar.

 

They awoke early on the day of the Grand Opening and indulged in no more than a kiss before grabbing a quick breakfast and rushing to the bar. Rod grew increasingly nervous through the morning and early afternoon but Steve was able to concentrate on instructing the waiters and critiquing the rehearsals of the performers.

 

At four in the afternoon, the scheduled opening time, there was already a crowd outside the bar waiting to get in. Rod was awe-struck and, for the first time, truly agreed with Steve's optimism about the eventual success of the new business. Steve, by contrast, was not surprised and even indulged in a compliment to himself for his admittedly risky investment of time and money.

 

When the doors opened, each patron was given a specially printed souvenir menu, autographed by Rod, Steve, and each of the dancers who would be entertaining that night. After considerable discussion and debate, Steve and Rod included a brief message at the top of each menu:

 

WELCOME.

 

Thank you for choosing us to entertain and delight you.

We will strive to be the perfect hosts

and ask that you observe a few rules as our guests.

 

1. Drink but don't drive if you're drunk.

2. Dance, hug, and kiss if that's your wish

but NO fondling of yourself or others, please.

3. If you appreciate the waiter's service, tip but don't touch.

4. Cheer and applaud the entertainers if you like but please stay off the stage.

 

The prices on the menu were ten to twenty percent higher than Rod had previously charged but no one complained. Rod and Steve were dressed in tuxedos and made it a point to "work the crowd," giving a personal welcome to everyone. Both men were elated at the size of the crowd. The bartenders and waiters had to hustle but were pleased with the size and number of tips.

 

The bar was packed for the first performance at five. Just before the show at seven, there were several dozen guys on the sidewalk disappointed that there was no room for them inside. They were appeased when Steve went out and announced, "Thanks, guys, for coming ... ahh ... no pun intended." (Laughter erupted, easing the crowd's disappointment.) "I hope you come back later. If you do, have a free drink on the house." He handed everyone a business card on which he had written, "Have a free drink on me. Steve."

 

The third show, at nine, was boisterously cheered by another full house. At one in the morning it was time to close but the bar was still-crowded. Steve got up on the stage with a microphone and announced, "Sorry guys, but it's time to call it a night." (Loud moans and boos reverberated through the bar.) "We can't serve any more drinks but we can stay open for another half hour so you can finish what you have and ... how shall I put this? ... make you plans for the rest of the night." (Riotous laughter and applause from the crowd.)

 

It was three in the morning when Steve and Rod got home. They were both exhausted but euphoric. They celebrated with a glass of Champaign while they told each other the comments each had received from the patrons.

 

An hour later, Rod got a serious expression and said, "Steve, I have to tell you two things. One is business. The second is pleasure. I apologize for ever doubting your ideas. They seemed like a real stretch at first but you pulled it off magnificently. I simply can't tell you how grateful I am for saving the bar ... and saving me. I can't imagine a more perfect business partner."

 

"You did your share," Steve graciously said. "I couldn't have done it without your knowledge of the bar business and taking care of the operational details."

 

Rod grinned, left the room, and immediately returned.

 

"What was that all about?" Steve asked.

 

"The guy who left the room was your business partner. The guy who came back in is your pleasure partner, your adoring lover, and your companion who is eternally grateful for filling nights with joy."

 

"Thanks," Steve said. "But you didn't need a dramatic exit and entrance to say that."

 

"Wrong, my friend! You said we must never mix work and play. I wanted to leave business behind out there in the hall. I'm ready for play, serious play, with hot, steamy sex. How 'bout it, stud?"

 

Steve showed no reaction, which worried Rod but he was relieved when Steve stood and took off his shirt in an amateurish but seductive mimic of the dancers at the bar. Rod's cock began to swell. Steve continued the strip tease until he was completely naked and half-hard. Rod's erection was at full mast, throbbing, and leaking. Steve gave Rod a devilish grin, and said, "I'm yours, big boy. Rape me."

 

*******

 

Three months later The Man Cave was consistently full of appreciative patrons who spent lavishly because of the excellent service, congenial atmosphere, and spectacular entertainment. It had become the talk of the town. The gay community flocked there. On Friday and Saturday nights, a capacity crowd was normal. Except for a handful of puritanical protesters one evening, there were no glitches in stunning success of the bar.

 

To celebrate their success, Steve and Rod treated themselves to a rare weekend off, confident that the staff would capably manage the evening's operation. They flew to Cancun on Friday morning, enjoyed a luxury suite at a resort, swam or relaxed at the beach, and—of course—made passionate love frequently. On Saturday night, Steve surprised Rod with a pair of commitment rings that he had purchased in Miami and brought with him. Rod was in tears as he accepted his ring and Steve's solemn promise to love, honor, and cherish forever. They returned to Miami Sunday night as a couple, each happier than the other over the success of their business but positively elated over the pleasure he received from and gave to his life partner.

 

The former owner of a debt ridden, dingy bar who questioned the sanity of a stranger's wildly optimistic plans, offered no objection when his business partner and lover suggested they open franchise establishments throughout the country.

 

They kept their business and personal lives separate but neither of them had any doubt about which had become more important.

 

The end

 

AUTHOR’S NOTE: My thanks to Iatia for his meticulous editing, his continuing support and encouragement, and his treasured friendship.