Notes:
Short chapter. Trying to get in the habit of finishing a story every week, even when I don't have much time to write. So we'll get to know Sam and Ken together. Hope you enjoy.
Afternoons in the barracks complex's communal lounge had become a sort of informal study group since the start of my relationship with Sam. I had to work hard to keep up with the math required by our school and there was no way I could concentrate alone in a room with my lover, making a crowded public place the only real option. And it was a tough school, so I seldom lacked for company.
Usually Sam was right there with me, but his math background was strong and when the upcoming test was all about numbers he needed less time with the books than the rest of us. So on this day it was just me and about a dozen classmates, chasing formulae like they were butterflies.
Fortunately we were wrapping things up by the time Sam came in, because he brought everyone's concentration to a sudden crashing halt. The two of us had taken up an evening running habit, and he was in his gear and ready to go. And by
his gear
I mean a scanty pair of running shorts and some Adidas. He looked like a six foot three inch heroic Greek statue, in onyx instead of marble. Every head swiveled, every conversation paused.
"You know," said the girl next to me on the couch, a blonde midwesterner named Taylor, "it's like sixty five degrees. I don't think your roommate is shirtless to stay cool."
"Are you kidding?" I said, in a voice loud enough for Sam to hear. "If they put a big Navy "N" on a thong, this dude would wear it running."
"And you'd wear it to inspection," Sam said with a grin. "Fuck your chin, they'd be checking your bikini line for stubble."
"Yeah, maybe," I said amidst the laughter. "But if I did, you know you'd be ass naked tryin' to show me up. Just stencil your name on your ass and buff up your toenails."
"Shit," he said. "Hey, Taylor, you ever hear of Black's Beach?"
"Yeah," she said. "Nude beach, right? Everybody says they're gonna go, nobody does?"
"Yeah," he said. "Me 'n Kenny went up to Mission Beach couple weeks ago, somebody tells him about it. Says it's up the coast like twenty miles. So this motherfucker just strips off his shorts and starts walkin'. Like,
welp, I'm off
..."
He did a funny walk, toes pointed out and hips swinging like he was waving his cock from side to side. Everyone in the lounge was in stitches. I waited until the laughter calmed down, which took a minute since Sam hammed it up once he saw he was getting the laughs, then nudged Taylor with an elbow.
"He's talking about the beach," I said. "You know what this fool wore that day? I'll give you a hint: It wasn't board shorts."
"Oh no," she said, laughing. "Don't tell me he went European."
"I only wish, Taylor," I said, shaking my head. "I only wish."
Sam raised his eyebrows curiously, since a tight European-style swimsuit was exactly what he'd worn.
"No," I said, "those things have drawstrings and cover a fella's ass. Provide some support. Keep a man
contained,
if you follow."
"I follow, I follow," she said, laughing at the crotch-gripping gesture I made to emphasize the word
contained.
"No," I said, "what he wore was definitely a bikini bottom. And I'm not talking Gidget's bikini, I'm talking strings and side-ties."
"Ass," said Sam, grinning along with the laughter. "It was shorts."
"Sure," I said. "Yellow polka-dot thong shorts."
"Now, see," said Taylor while everyone laughed, "we all saw you two in your underwear. I am one hundred percent sure that Sammy cannot wear a thong. No way it would
contain
him. "
She aped my crotch-gripping gesture, which was somehow even funnier than when I'd done it.
"Oh, it didn't," I said. I put my elbow against my crotch and waved my arm around, wrist flopping back and forth. Everyone laughed again, especially Sam.
"Come on, come on," he said. "Time to run. Get changed, fool."
"Yeah," I said. "Everyone that's coming, five minutes."
We had more company every time we ran. Conditioning tests were infrequent during our school, but not totally absent. And they caught a few people out every time. Nobody was responsible for anyone else's fitness, but I was class leader by rank, score, and appointment, and I tried to lead as much as I could.
Imagine my surprise when I ran into two of our bosses, Chief Duncan and Lieutenant Hitchcock, standing right outside the door smoking and listening in on us. I ran the conversation back in my mind. It was not unproblematic, if they were of a mind to be angry. Fortunately they weren't.
"Sir," I said. "Chief. Good evening."
The Chief stopped me with a small gesture as I started to go past.
"So, sir," he said to Hitchcock, "any more questions about why this class leads by so much?"
"Nope," said the Lieutenant with a smile. "None at all. You lead a study group every night, Fireman Ken?"
"
Lead
is a strong word, sir," I said. "We're here every night, but it's a communal effort."
"This is not a commune, FN," he said. "Your class is doing well. That is largely because its two best students lead it in study every night. Take the credit you're due."
"Well, sir,"
I absolutely did not say at all,
"our class benefits from the fact that my roommate and I cannot study in our room because we start making out the instant we're alone. The only reason it's a study group instead of a study pair is that we're the popular kids. Would seem odd to take credit for that."
"Thank you, sir," is what I actually said.
"Your school," he said, "has a drop rate better than thirty-three percent. You have dropped zero from your class."
"Yes, sir," I said. "They have damn fine leadership, sir."
"Better," he said with a laugh.
"Fuckin' wiseass," said Chief Duncan. But he laughed, too.
Some of our classmates were gathering around Sam in PT gear. I glanced their way, which was really as much of a gesture as I could make.
