Hanging Drywall

It was the middle of August and the summer heat hadn?t yet arrived. It was beautifully warm, and indeed, very warm if you were working, but the mind-numbing stifling heat that usually arrived toward the end of summer hadn?t yet made an appearance.Logan Ellison was a relatively young entrepreneur who believed in sustaining the past as he pushed ahead to the future. He?d bought this 1930 era house built in the style of Le Corbusier but left to deteriorate until it was almost a ruin.He was spending a lot of money to resuscitate it, which meant ripping out much of the original lathe and plaster interior which had suffered extensive water damage and replacing it with today?s material, but keeping the integrity of the building.Scott Lassiter, the head of the work crew, was pleased that they were actually a little ahead of schedule, and with luck might beat the arrival of the heat. Part of the reason for their efficient progress was that he?d hired the best workers he could find.Dean McMasters was one of those workers. Although only twenty-six, he was an expert with hanging drywall. He could easily read blueprints and cut outlet holes in a sheet with no errors. With a lift, he could do a ceiling without anyone helping him. His handling of the tape to hide butt and corner joints went smoothly, and when he completed the spackling walls they could be painted with no other preparation.He was also one of those people who had outstanding good-looks but acted as though he was unaware of his blessing. He knew his body was well developed because he?d worked on it. He also knew he was well endowed in the genital area because of his rash and rowdy life between the ages of eighteen and twenty-three. Many of the women he?d bedded had told him what he had been gifted with what most men would die for.But even with these physical attributes he never tried to take advantage of them, or flaunt them to gain attention. They were simply parts of his being as were the color of his eyes or generosity of his spirit.Those wild years had come about after the divorce of his strict, uptight parents. He had no desire to choose to live with either of them, and so having graduated from high school, he struck out on his own. The sudden liberty after a life of confinement had led him to go too far. He became a hedonist in all aspects, but he also devoted himself to work, and to becoming the best at what he did.But after five years of mild debauchery, he met Sylvia and fell quickly and deeply in love. She was nothing like the women he?d made out with and yet she was nowhere near the prudishness of his mother. She was sweet, funny, gleeful and bright.He got his act together, dated her, acted like a gentleman, impressed her with his attentions and his work ethic and won her over. They married just months after they met, and for three years the marriage been all they could wish for, including the mutual agreement to postpone starting a family for a few years until they were secure financially.Ellison, the owner of the house, had worked out an arrangement before work had started, that the master bedroom and bath would be renovated first so that he could move in while the other work was being completed. The contractor had tried to persuade him not to follow through on his plan, as there would be constant noise, dust and inconveniences, but he had prevailed and so he was living there.He had assured the contractor that it wasn?t because he didn?t trust him but rather, because he wanted to be a part of the rebirth of this historic house. And so it was he became aware of the existence of the extremely good-looking guy working with the plasterboard.When Logan Ellison was sixteen he realized he was gay. When he was seventeen he had started his first business dealing with recycled electronics. A year and a half later he sold it and invested his substantial earnings into his next venture. Now, at the age of thirty-eight, he was worth a little over two million dollars, and showed no sign of slowing down.He?d tried settling on one lover at a time, but none of the three he?d hooked up with had lasted. None of them could keep up with his high energy nor compete with his overriding interest in his business. There were still women who were unaware of his sexual preferences and yet saw only a physically attractive man who was also worth a lot of money.Several organizations had named him bachelor of the year, some never knowing of their faux pas. And all who did business with him and knew where his interests lay accepted him because of his seemingly innate ability to make money.Dean had heard of him being a whiz at business and was impressed that a guy so young had the fortitude to make his own way in the world. He?d also heard of his sexual proclivities, but didn?t dwell on them.Several times he?d heard some of his coworkers make crude remarks and speculations about the man who was putting a lot of money in their pockets. One of the most prolific of the Bostancı Escort speculators was a guy Dean thought of as a slob, a jerk and a fuck-off on the job.He made one remark that set Dean?s teeth on edge and he?d fired back at the goon.?What the fuck do you care? He sure as hell isn?t hot for your stinkin? ass.?The target had shrugged and walked away without retorting.Tucked somewhere deep in Dean?s sub-conscientiousness was a seed of guilt. When he was in his*teens his older sister had taken an art history course and had a book of Greek and Roman sculptures that she had kept secreted from their parents.Because he knew she had hidden it, he was curious and when he had a chance Dean had looked through it and been struck by the symmetry of the young athletic male bodies depicted. It had produced some sort of goal of perfection which had guided him in developing his own body. But it had also made him aware of the bodies of other guys he saw exposed at the gym, swimming pools, at track meets or anywhere else where they were nude or scantily clothed.An amateur psychologist might tell you that seed of guilt was responsible for those early lecherous years, for proving his virility with those many young women.And there were still times when he got an unexpected electric jolt by looking at a particularly well-built man. His feelings when seeing smooth flesh stretched over strong muscles would perplex him and a desire to touch would become entangled with shame. But he could soothe his ruffled feathers by remembering no one knew what he was experiencing.One of the people whose body he ?admired? was his current employer, Logan Ellison. Logan had learned long ago that a nice body was bait for attracting the men he desired. As a very young man he?d had to find ways to develop his physique, but when he?d become financially successful he?d engaged body trainers. When this house was complete it would contain a private gym with the latest equipment.In the weeks he?d been working on the house, Dean had noted how well Logan?s clothes fit, whether wearing a three-piece Armani suit, or Hugo Boss chinos and a Ralph Lauren polo shirt or gym shorts and a tank top. He knew it wasn?t just the quality of the clothing, but was largely due to the frame upon which the clothing hung.Logan Ellison?s success wasn?t only based on his being an astute businessman. He also understood human nature. He knew that to assure his house turned out as he wanted, it was necessary to frequently consult with the foreman, Scott Lassiter. But he also knew that constant surveillance could foster unrest, which could lead to sloppy work purposely being done.He had used the pretense of needing to vacate where he?d been living, as an excuse to move into the master suite of this house. Therefore he had a reason to be coming and going every day.He also knew that praise got better result than complaints, so he would often stop and make encouraging remarks to individual workers on work they were doing or had completed.One of the workers he often complimented was the handsome young man who was installing the drywall. But in this case, it gave him the opportunity to linger and appreciate the roundness of Dean?s buttocks, the firmness of his biceps, the shape of his back, the curve of his neck, the strength in his legs, the bulge in his crotch.And for the past few weeks, he had occasionally made comments calculated to make the young man more aware of him. Once he had watched,*as with deft movements, Dean had applied long strips of joint-hiding tape without a mishap.?Boy,? he?d said, ?that tape covers that joint as smoothly as those jeans cling to your ass.?Dean had been completely caught off guard and couldn?t find any words to say. He?d looked at Logan with his confusion clearly showing on his face. Logan had responded with a mischievous smile, which threw Dean even further off balance.But it was only the first such comment.And as they progressed Dean began to look forward to them. Some of them made him smile. Some surprised him. A few mildly embarrassed him. But all of them pleased him.And sometimes Logan innocently remarked on an aspect of his musculature. Those times Dean could find the words to return the compliment, or to complete a short exchange about their comparative ways of working out.But more often than not the comment would take him by surprise and he?d be unready to reply.As when one day very recently Logan had just stopped and watched as Dean, who was up on some scaffolding, skillfully smeared spackle onto the sunken screws and with two swipes left the surface completely smooth. He noticed Dean looking around as if he?d dropped or lost something.?Do you need me to hand you a tool?? he asked.?No,? Dean said absently. ?I have the only tool I need here.?Without skipping a beat Logan said, ?I bet you do. And I bet you know how to use it.?Dean quickly looked at Logan. Logan gave him that wicked smile Bostancı Escort Bayan again and ran the tip of his tongue over his top lip.Dean had known he was being flirted with, but it had only seemed like a harmless game, but now he realized he was being propositioned in a way it had never happened to him before. And he was intrigued.How far would this go? How far would he go? He?d never been faced with such questions before, but he didn?t reflect on why he was thinking them now. He didn?t wonder why he was considering these questions, or their answers. What he did realize was that his cock was getting hard.He?d only glanced at Logan, but now he looked back. Was this good-looking gay man who he held in high regard seriously offering him an experience he?d never had? Was it an experience he?d like to have? If so, then this was definitely the person he?d do it with.Logan winked and turned and walked away.That was on a Friday. Late Monday afternoon Dean was standing high on the scaffolding. He saw Logan conferring with Scott. He stood holding his hawk piled high with mud and his putty knife, watching Logan. When Logan turned in his direction and walked his way he quickly resumed spreading and smoothing the spackle. He steeled himself for the expected quip.To his consternation, Logan passed without glancing up at him, but then turned back.?Dean,? he began, calling him by his name for the first time. ?I had the gym equipment installed over the weekend. Would you like to see it???I...*I,? he stammered, wanting to curse himself. ?I?m working. I can?t stop. Thanks, but you know.??No, no. I didn?t mean right now. After you get off work.?Dean?s mind and tongue wouldn?t work together.?I have, I don?t think I can. I have to go home, you know, to my wife. She?ll be waiting, I think.??Oh, well. Tell you what. Think about it and I?ll check back in fifteen minutes.?Logan turned and walked away. Dean stood still, watching him as he went up the staircase to the second floor. A few minutes later Dean climbed down from his perch and went to Scott.?Lassiter, I was thinking. I could stay late tonight and finish up in the dining room, so then your boys can get in there first thing tomorrow morning.?Scott frowned. ?Sounds great McMasters, but I can?t authorize overtime. You know they want me to do everything to keep under budget.??Yeah, but what if I take half a day off later in the week. Just count it as regular time. It?ll only take me a couple of hours, three at the most.??And then you want to take off half a day??Dean shook his head. ?No, man. I just said that. I could come in a couple hours late, or knock off early. I won?t try to screw you,*man.?Scott slowly nodded his head. ?It would let me get the painters started early. Okay, but first I have to run it by Mr. Ellison. He might not want anybody hangin? ?round here.??Cool.?Dean went back into the dining room and swung back up on the scaffolding like an agile monkey. Logan came back down the stairs. He?d changed from his suit to a pair of cargo pants and a matching shirt. He looked great.?Well???Talk to Scott. Lassiter. He?ll explain.?He watched out of the corner of his eye as Logan talked to Scott, nodding his head and then patted Scott on the shoulder.He came back by and without stopping said, ?When you?re done, come upstairs. I?ll be waiting there.?As Dean spackled over more screws he thought, ?What the hell am I setting myself up for? And why??The crew knocked off at five, as usual. Dean called Sylvia on his cell phone and explained he was going to work until about nine, so not to wait dinner on him. He worked feverishly for the next two hours, making sure he wasn?t compromising the quality of his work, but knowing he had to finish this room before it got so late he?d have to head straight home.It was almost eight by the time he?d completed the work, cleaned up his tools and torn down the scaffolding. He went up the stairs slowly, feeling as if he were trespassing, entering into someone?s private domain.He hadn?t been here since he?d installed the drywall several weeks ago. Then everything had been raw. Now he was amazed at how it looked with the walls and woodwork painted, the floor tile, the window treatments, the lighting fixtures all installed.He stopped at the top of the stair, not knowing which way to go.?Hello,? he called out. ?Mr. Ellison?? ?Hello??A door opened and Logan came out.?Okay, let?s start this by getting something straight. When you talk directly to me, I?m not Mr. Ellison. I?m Logan. You got that??He had spoken in the most serious tone, as though chastising an employee who?d made a serious business error. But then he grinned and laughed, making Dean feel much more comfortable.?Got it,? said Dean, returning the smile. ?Sorry, it?s so late. Is it too late???No, not at all. Follow me,? and he turned toward the door to their right.He opened it and went in, holding it back for Dean to enter. Dean Escort Bostancı stopped just inside the door, stunned. One side of the large room was floor to ceiling windows. The opposite wall was mirrored. Logan touched a switch on the wall and vertical blinds slid across the windows. Another button and the blinds closed.There were half a dozen machines, such as a rowing machine, elliptical, a treadmill, each of them better than anything that was available at the gym Dean belonged to. There was a set of weights next to a bench plus kettlebells.There were two punching bags, a chest press and a leg press, and a cable biceps/triceps bar.Dean managed a ?Wow.?He walked around, touching a machine, almost caressing another. At the bench press, he looked at Logan. ?Who spots you???I got a guy who works with me a couple times a week,? was all Logan volunteered.?A personal trainer?? asked Dean.Logan was a little uncomfortable admitting to his ability to indulge, despite the obvious wealth on display.?Yeah,? was all he said. He thought it best they leave the gym. ?Come this way.?He went through another door which led into a bathroom. Dean looked at the Jacuzzi bathtub, the glassed-in shower stall which looked large enough for four people. He counted three different shower heads. All surfaces were covered with pink marble. He?d never seen a bathroom this big or luxurious.They went through another door and walked through a closet that was like a shrunken men?s clothing store. Rows of suits, slacks, coats and jackets and shirts lined the walls. Spaced between them were stacks of drawers and racks of shoes. Dean wondered how a man could ever wear all those clothes. His entire wardrobe would take up an eighth of one wall.They went through, without stopping, into the bedroom. Again Dean paused just inside the door. The room appeared to be larger than his and Sylvia?s apartment. The king-size bed had a padded headboard that extended up to the ceiling. Opposite the bed was a fireplace flanked by two short sofas, each with its own coffee table. There were a couple of other chairs of different styles, small tables holding lamps, a desk and chair.Other decorative chests and consoles were against the walls around the room. The entire room and its furnishings exhibited good taste and luxury. Unknown to Dean was the fact that a professional decorator had decorated the room, as she would the downstairs when the workers had completed their tasks.Logan spoke for the first time since they?d left the gym. ?I expect you?re hungry, so I got a little something for you ? or rather, us.?One on of the coffee tables was a warming tray with a dozen small pizzas, each about three inches in diameter. There were dishes of olives and peppers, pieces of crusty bread with little dishes of pesto in olive oil and frosted steins of beer.?God, I hadn?t even thought about it, but yeah, I?m starving.?Logan smiled, satisfied. ?Then come on and dig in.?Dean looked at the sofa. ?I can?t sit on that. These jeans are filthy. My shirt too.?Logan kind of scoffed, but didn?t say anything. He went to the bed and pulled off the heavy bedspread and let it drop on the floor. He grabbed a corner of the top sheet and walked around the bed, pulling it free from the mattress. Without saying anything he went to the sofa and threw the sheet across it.?There. Now sit. No more bullshit.?Dean lowered himself onto the sofa, not knowing what he should say. Logan sat down a couple feet from him. He handed Dean a small plate and a cloth napkin.?Eat, for god?s sake. And tell me something about yourself.?Dean took the plate and napkin, but waited for Logan to take the first pizza. ?Like what? What do you want to know???Just about everything, I guess. But why not start with where you?re from, your family, education, dog, first car. You know, your life.?Dean had bitten into his pizza. ?Shit,? he thought, ?this isn?t frozen crap. He ordered these from some fancy joint.?For the next half hour, they ate and talked. Dean made several stabs at talking about his youth. When he faltered, Logan asked questions which easily put Dean back on track. Logan added to the dialog by telling things about his own life that resembled or contrasted with events in Dean?s life.Logan refilled Dean?s beer stein. The alcohol helped loosen Dean?s tongue and put him more at ease. He spoke of the frustrations he experienced being brought up by parents who found sin in everyday life. Some of the tales he told were of the years of hedonism before he met his wife. He was neither ashamed of what he?d done, nor did he boast of his sexual accomplishments. Logan found these stories intriguing.Their talk came around to their mutual interest in developing their bodies. They agreed that some guys took things too far, throwing proportion out of balance. Logan acknowledged he?d started exercising in earnest later in life than had Dean, and had not been as successful in reaching his goal.Dean told Logan he thought Logan?s body was great for a man of his age and loved the way his clothes fit him. Logan ran his hand up under Dean?s shirt sleeve, telling him how his biceps and triceps were perfect for the rest of his body, and how much he liked the way blood vessels traced their way down his arm to his strong hands.