*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.
*****
The late October rain seemed relentless, made all the worse by a cold, biting wind. It had been raining off and on all day, thoroughly saturating the campus of the University of Louisiana at DeGarde.
Many students clumped together by the glass doors of Goldberg Hall, just waiting. Terrence Davis joined them, looking and waiting for a break so he could race for the male dormitory.
"Hey, Terrence," Glen Strand, an older student said, joining the throng at the glass doors. "Uh, where's your buddy, Chad?"
"He's sick; got the flu I think," Terrence said.
"Aw, that's a bitch," Glen said. "Going home this weekend?"
"Uh, no, no, went home last weekend," Terrence said.
"Hell of a way end the week, huh?" Glen said, nodding to the pounding rain.
"Oh!" a collective gasp went up as a flash of lightning pierced the darkness.
"Oh!" the same gasp was heard when the clap of thunder followed almost immediately, loud and booming.
And many of the students laughed at each other's reaction.
"So what you doing then," Glen asked Terrence.
Terrence had to look up to see Glen's face. Glen was six foot two and Terrence was nearly a foot shorter at five four. Glen had a shaved head, and a neatly trimmed blonde goatee. His physique was a muscular one, evident even as he stood there in jean jacket, tee shirt and snug button fly blue jeans. His blue eyes looked into Terrence's brown eyes as he waited for Terrence's answer.
"Don't know," Terrence admitted.
A second flash of lightning, then a moment later, a slightly fainter clap of thunder failed to get the same reaction the earlier display had. Glen peered out to see if the torrent had faded any.
"I mean, there really ain't much to do, and is there?" Terrence went on, also looking at the pouring rain.
"Well, soon as I can, I'm going home..." Glen said and looked around to see if anyone was paying them any attention.
No one was so he leaned a little closer to Terrence and lowered his voice.
"...get out of these wet clothes and spark up my bong. Just got some killer Jamaican. Jah Mon!" he said.
Terrence's eyes opened wide and he nervously brushed back his slightly long brown hair.
"You're cool?" he asked, also keeping his voice low.
"Don't know if I'm cool, but fuck man, it's Friday, know what I'm saying?" Glen said.
They continued to chat for about fifteen minutes. There were no further claps of thunder and finally, it seemed as if the rain had exhausted itself and the hall started to empty out.
"So, you uh, you want to come on over?" Glen asked Terrence. "Smoke a couple of bowls, watch a movie or something?"
"Sure!" Terrence agreed.
"Oh, hey, tell you what, why don't you grab your clothes; remember my first semester here, laundry room sucked big time," Glen suggested. "You can wash your clothes; I won't even charge you five quarters a wash, huh?"
"It's six a wash now and for to dry, but okay," Terrence happily agreed.
"Sharp shire Dorm, right?" Glen said. I'll be right out the front door; gold Jeep Wrangler, all right?"
Terrence scampered away and Glen hurried to his Jeep in the parking lot.
In his dorm room, Pedro, Terrence's roommate chattered on his cell phone. Terrence wondered when the young man ever went to class; it seemed like any time Terrence was in the room, Pedro was in the room, on his cell phone, screaming and laughing in Spanish to his family back in Great Oaks, Texas.
He gathered his clothes into his laundry bag and scurried down the three flights of stairs.
On the sign-out sheet, for 'Back By:' column, he just put a question mark.
They chatted pleasantly until they pulled up to a modest brick home, nestled among other neat homes on a dead end street. Glen reached up and hit a remote control and the garage door went up. Then Glen pulled into the garage and lowered the door.
"Washer and dryer right there," Glen nodded toward the appliances. "You go ahead and get started. I'm just going to get out of these, get comfortable."
Terrence dragged his bag and dumped the clothes on the floor of the garage. Glen left the door to the house open and Terrence could feel the warmth seeping into the chilly garage.
He dumped a load of darks into the washing machine, used his own liquid detergent, and started the machine.
Then he entered the house, stepping into the kitchen. Glen was standing in the kitchen, dressed in only a pair of nylon running shorts. Terrence looked at the man's muscular back and thighs as Glen stood at a cabinet.
"Good to go?" he asked without turning around.
"Good to go," Terrence smiled.
"Want something to drink?" Glen asked. "Got beer, vodka, um, gin, oh, here's some rum and got to have the whiskey, am I right? Oh, and got peppermint Schnapps and Cinnamon Schnapps. What you want?"
"What's Schnapps?" Terrence asked, still staring at Glen's muscled physique.
"Some kind of liqueur, not really sure, but love mixing it with the rum," Glen smiled turning around.
Terrence fought hard against the squeal. Glen's cockhead was just visible, dangling out of the left leg opening in the shorts.
Which meant he was looking. And Terrence didn't want to admit, he was looking.
Glen's chest was broad, muscled, and his abdomen was the 'six pack' type the exercise machines promised to deliver.
"Um, you are eighteen, right?" Glen asked.
"Yeah, and a half," Terrence agreed and Glen smiled.
"Why don't I make us a couple of drinks; you like peppermint or cinnamon?" Glen asked, already getting out the rum and two Schnapps bottles.
"Um, peppermint," Terrence decided.
"And uh, those clothes are all wet; need to get out of them unless you want to wind up like Chad," Glen said.
Terrence blushed hotly. He'd worn the white briefs his sister had given him as a joke, the ones with lips printed directly over his crotch.
"What size are you?" Glen asked as he poured the two drinks and dropped a couple of cubes of ice into each glass.
"Um, twenty eight waist," Terrence said.
"Think a got a couple pair of shorts that'll fit you," Glen said.
He went out to the garage where the washing machine was still filling with water. Glen opened the lid and nodded his head.
"Yeah, there's room for them jeans. Your sweatshirt can go with your lights," Glen agreed. "Go ahead, dump them in here and I'll get you your shorts."
