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Corpus Christi It felt strange wearing nothing but civilian clothes. It felt really strange not having the base to go back to, his bunk in unmarried quarters no longer his own. Funny how one thing he and all the guys groused about was not having a room to themselves and here he was in Florence Mae's Boarding House with a room all to himself and he found it lonely and too quiet of snores and sniffles and the smell of other men sleeping. He didn't know who Florence Mae was, but she sure didn't own the boarding house anymore. Now it was owned by a chubby guy who made great chili and lots of it. Thing was, that's all that was made for supper and while you could have as much as you could eat, after a couple of days of it, Jeff just couldn't eat anymore. So after a day of testing out at the DEA's Corpus field office, he went out to find a diner or bar or somewhere he could get a warm meal that wasn't too expensive and wasn't chili. Naval Base. It had been an easy decision to decide to find something here, given he had no reason to go home. He missed the easy camaraderie, even if some of the guys were assholes. The world felt a lot bigger when you faced it on your own. He followed the Kennedy Causeway south toward Padre Island, looking idly for somewhere clean and decent and not frou-frou. He saw a bunch of trucks at this little place called The King's Sword. Looked busy enough, decent, and the sign out front offered burgers and beer. Worked for him. He let himself in, the smell of smoke and beer hitting him as opened the door. He snagged himself a little table in a corner, and sat with his back to the wall, looking around. The place wasn't big, was homey and simple. Little bar. Little dance floor. Little stage with a trio of cowboys setting up. his face. "Hey stud, what'll it be?" He blinked. "Um... a draft and burger, please." "A tall cold one like yourself? And you want that burger with the works? Fries on the side?" He blinked some more and nodded. The guy was coming on to him. Or flirting anyway. He nodded. The cowboys on the stage got settled -- two guitars and a violin. They must not suck because the bar went wild, hooting and clapping. One tall red-headed cowboy leaned towards the mike, smiling. "Howdy, y'all. Happy Friday." Man, talk about drawl. His waiter brought over his beer and gave it to him along with a wink. "You're in for a good time tonight." He buried his face in the beer. The music wasn't earth-shattering, but it was good and everyone knew all the words. At one point, the red-head took off his hat and the bar hollered, "Take it off, Hunter! Take it all off!" They got a sexy little laugh and the finger, those eyes bright green in the lights. Jeff’s burger was delivered while he watched and his waiter pouted at him. "Oh, now you've seen Hunter in action a poor serving boy doesn't stand a chance." He looked up, frown between his eyes. "Oh, don't worry, honey, I'm only teasing you. You want another beer?" He nodded his yes, eyes going back to the band and Hunter. The man was older, skin tanned and leathery, red hair left sort of long, curling around the black collar of his shirt. The jeans were old, ragged, drawing attention to long, long legs. Man, those legs went on forever. He spread his own legs as his prick started to fill. Damn, he was looking too hard. He turned his attention to his burger, spreading on some A1. The band played a good while, Hunter singing. The songs were mostly funny, a couple of slow ones thrown in. Then they stopped, took a break, those long legs heading through the place, towards the bar. Oh, the man's ass was something else. A tight, high little cowboy butt. He bet those ass cheeks would feel real nice in his hands. He shoved a few fries in his mouth, trying to think about something else. Like how tired he was going to be on Monday when the physical tests started up. Of course, when that tight, high little ass headed his way? He wasn't thinking about Monday at all. "Hey, sailor. You mind if I share? The place is packed." |
