Anthony got on the phone and called Stanley Wilkins, his Public Relations liaison. He told Stanley to get word to the press that he was endorsing Doug for Mayor and was lending his talent, voice, and physical presence to the campaign. Stanley assured him that he'd get in touch with Doug's campaign manager so that he'd be alerted to any and all upcoming events concerning the election. Anthony thanked him and ended the call. As the brunet walked into his bedroom and sat on the bed, tears filled his eyes from the happy memories of being with Hunter. He leaned over and retrieved a tin box from the second shelf of his bedside table. He smiled as he remembered finding the box at a toy store's bargain bin for five dollars. It was mostly yellow and red and was decorated to look like a Coke-a-Cola jukebox. He opened the top and flipped through the letters he'd received from Hunter since they found their own paths to achieve their desires and dreams. In his heart, soul, and every fiber of his being, he knew that he and his Hunter were ready to settle down together and commit themselves to the most important dream and endeavor they'd ever set out to realize, which was creating a life filled with love and devotion for each other and their boys. Anthony sighed happily and dried the tears from his eyes."It's our time, babe, and we're gonna make it amazing," he softly but firmly vowed as he put the box back in its place. He stretched and softly moaned as he got up and walked into the bathroom.

Steam formed on the glassed-in shower stall as the hot water from the rainfall shower head cascaded onto Anthony's body. His lightly tanned skin glistened in the sunlight that streamed through the window. The effect caused an ethereal glow around the mid-thirty-year-old. The brunet closed his eyes and conjured an image of the last time he and Hunter were in bed together. His right hand gently gripped and slid along his hardening manhood as his breaths became heavier and more rapid. Anthony's bubble butt muscles clenched and unclenched as he remembered the feeling of his soulmate's penis slowly penetrating him. Moans escaped his lips when he felt phantom sensations of the slightly older boy's fingers massaging and caressing his body. His masturbation rhythm matched the memory of the most unforgettable love he'd ever made with a man, the only man he'd completely given himself to. His moans deepened, and he used his left hand to steady himself against the shower stall's wall. The cum rose in his shaft, and at the time of his memory's release, he coated the tiles with five explosive shots of semen. After ejaculating, Anthony's body was so sensitive that his ticklishness was heightened. The water from the shower head made him giggle and slightly squirm, so he had to step out of its range. It took a couple minutes to compose himself before rinsing his body and the shower stall. As he whispered I love you to the mental image of Hunter, he could feel his mate sending his love to him.

After drying off, Anthony hung up his towel, styled his hair, slipped on his flip-flops, and walked into the bedroom. He chose green bikini briefs, pulled on a tight grey tank top, put on light tan khaki pants that fit him as if they were his skin, added a grey fabric stretchy belt, and tucked the tank top into his pants. The next stop was the walk-in closet. He grabbed a short sleeve silk burgundy shirt, donned the garment, and left it unbuttoned. He sat on a bench, placed against one of the walls, and after applying some witch hazel to his soles, slipped a pair of off-white deck shoes with tan patches on the top onto his bare feet. He stopped to appraise his attire in the door-length mirror before deeming his outfit acceptable for the evening. Anthony walked through the house, locked the doors and windows, and set the alarm before going to the garage where his Nineteen-Eighty Corvette convertible and Ford Bronco sat. He opened the garage door, got in the convertible, started it up, backed out, hit the button that closed the automatic door, and left the driveway.

*****

Hunter flipped on his signal and made a right hand turn into the parking lot of the building where his salon was housed. He smiled and waved at a couple of the patrons, standing outside smoking cigarettes as he drove around to the rear entrance. Because the family owned the building, the stylist didn't have to worry about paying rent. An annoyed expression formed on Hunter's face when he noticed a blonde-haired male with a smug smirk leaning against an overly expensive Bentley parked in his parking spot. He stopped before reaching the other vehicle so that he didn't box the man in, got out of his car, and walked to the hood of his car. Even before they exchanged words, he suspected this was the infamous Brent Oaks.

"Not to be rude, Sir, but you're in my parking spot," Hunter said in a firm but nonabrasive tone. "Please, move your car."

"I've got to say," Brent started with a judgmental quality to his voice. "Your place is...," he paused and adopted a dissatisfied facial expression, then continued, "quaint, but I've seen better hairstyles on the homeless ruffians residing in the gutter."

Having such politically involved parents, Hunter was used to goading tactics and was a pro at not taking the bait. "Do you have any suggestions for improvement? I'll be glad to take them into consideration."
     "Oh, fuck this," Brent sneered, "that sweet piece of hot, sexy Daddy ass is mine. I'll leave you what's left to fuck, that's if you're dick's able to still get hard, you old bastard."

Despite wanting to take this childish twerp's head and beat it against his expensive car, Hunter maintained his composure and poker face. "Young man, first..." he paused, smacked his forehead, and shook his head. "Damn it, I sound like my dad," he said. "First thing, that sexy daddy has a name, it's Anthony, and he's a human being, not a piece of meat to be claimed."

"Ooh, struck a nerve, did I?" Brent taunted. He looked Hunter up and down, then turned his head and spat on his Camaro. "I can understand why Anthony would hesitate to sleep with you. I mean, look at you. You're nothing but a piece of public servant trash."

"It's rude to interrupt someone when they're speaking. Second, Anthony would never give himself to someone so vulgar and entitled. I suggest you remove yourself and your vehicle before it's removed for you."

"Make no mistake, bitch, that ass is mine. Whether he's willing or not, I'll take what the fuck I want."

Hunter's eyes darkened. "If I were you, I'd be careful about making threats, and if you ever try to harm Anthony, I'll make damn sure you never see the light of day except through the bars of a prison cell for a very long time." He smirked and pointed to a camera mounted onto the corner of the structure.

A tow truck drove around the other side of the building. Brent gasped and started hurling insults and threats at the driver as he hooked the Bentley to his crane and took the car away, leaving Brent to huff and puff.

"Have a nice day," he said after parking and locking his car. As he walked to the sidewalk, Hunter could hear Brent's heavy breathing, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw him take a swing. He ducked, spun around, and punched the younger man in the gut, knocking the wind out of him and his body to the ground. "I hate violence," he said as he opened the door and walked inside.

*****

He hadn't been to the summer home since his dad died, so fresh tears welled in Anthony's eyes when he turned into the property and headed up the long, curvy driveway. However, the images of playing with Hunter and their families being together balanced the sorrow of not physically having his father around. Anthony parked the Corvette in the carport, and since he was on secured property, he didn't feel the need to lock the doors or put the top up. He exited the vehicle and smiled because Tim was standing outside the garage.

Silently, the brunet approached the mountain-like, muscle-bound blonde-haired man. He formed a gun with his index and thumb and poked the older male in the center of his ribs. "Give me all your cash," he said in a low and raspy voice.

The ever-watchful head of security had already seen his original charge's arrival and grinned. "Ya know, you'd be a much more successful robber if you weren't so ticklish," Tim said as he reached back and tickled his would-be assailant's stomach. The fifty-year-old chuckled as Anthony squealed, giggled boyishly, and doubled over. "That'll teach ya to sneak up on a helpless old man."

Anthony giggled, launched himself into Tim's arms, gave him his best bear hug, and kissed his cheek. "You're as helpless as a ravenous grizzly bear coming out of hibernation," he said.

"Ang, and I loved your last show, kid. You're truly one of the best performers working today," Tim said as he returned the affection.

"I really appreciate it. I'll get you guys a copy of the new album as soon as it's finished," Anthony responded as he released Tim. "Where are you off to? I was hoping you'd stay and visit some."

"I gotta go pick up your Mom and son," Tim chuckled. "I think they're just a bit more important than visiting. Don't ya think?"

Anthony giggled and nodded. "Definitely! I sure don't wanna face Mom's fury and Xander's even worse. I have to live with him." He and Tim shared another hug before they parted.

*****

"MAMA ELAINE!!!

Elaine and Xander turned toward the foghorn-like bellowing voice that boomed and echoed through the airport terminal.

The six-foot-tall drag queen, dressed as Tina Turner, running and waving her arms in the air, made people grab their phones and take pictures as they parted like the red sea while Jaqui D'Mille barreled through in her seven-inch stilettos. She only stopped when one thin man was so shocked at the vision that he became immobile and stood in the middle of the floor with his mouth open. Jaqui paused and shook her head. "Bless your heart,"  she said as she gently closed his mouth with her index finger. "Oh, Honey child," she cooed. "Obviously, you've never been in the presence of such utter fabulosity, so I'll let this slide. However, in the future, please remember this one rule. There are two times when you never get in a drag queen's way when she performs and when she runs. In both instances, she'll plow you over like she's a Mack truck going downhill with no breaks, and you're a Toyota Prius." Jaqui gently guided the man to the side and continued running. "This is it! I'm gonna kill that motha fucka," she hollered.

Elaine and Xander were leaning on each other, hysterically laughing. "Who are you gonna kill this time, Jaqui?" Elaine asked.

"Who the fuck else, that little militant midget husband of mine, Edwin."

"What did Papa Ed do now, Mama Jaqui?" Xander asked as he hugged Jaqui.

"Boy, you're growin' faster than my fan club after a performance," Jaqui said as she kissed the teen's cheek. She embraced Elaine and clasped her hands. "That man had the nerve to scratch my red Cadillac convertible and this close to the pride parade. How the fuck am I supposed to do my queen's wave in a scratched car?"

Elaine shook her head and giggled. "Jaqui, I've got a spare Caddy you can borrow if you can't get yours painted. That way, Edwin can still breathe, and I don't have to keep your fabulous ass out of jail."

“I always knew I could count on you," Jaqui said before hugging the chuckling grandma and grandson. "I'll tell Edwin he's got a reprieve... for the moment, anyway. Love ya more than my luggage," She said as she ran back, screaming Edwin's name.

Elaine and Xander were still laughing like hyenas when Tim pulled the car up to the curb.

To be continued...

Posted: 08/04/2023