Achieving Loft 1

'I'm going to love this car!' became my first reaction, as I pulled out of the driveway.

My new car, a leftover 2005 Jaguar XJ Super V8. I got it for a 'steal', at $90,330.00. I told the Jaguar agent that I wouldn't be needing child locks, since I'd never be carrying a child in the car, so he deducted $10 and threw in his cousin's guitar CD. Hey, nothing wrong with some lite classical guitar music, while cruising the countryside.

I entered Rt. 78, after journeying from Washington Rock Road, via Mountain Blvd, up the hill, which I only new as the 'steep hill', not worrying about what it was actually called. , after zipping down the long and winding road at speeds unmentionable. What a joyride, I can tell you! I could probably outdo any cop cruiser, but kept to the 35 mph speed limit, til I reached the turnoff for 78. I knew the cops didn't tolerate speeders along this drag of highway, but often saw some hot ones cruise by. Sometimes I wondered if it would be worth getting a speeding ticket? Nah. However, maybe I'd be getting my wish, as I saw the red lights flickering behind me. I pulled over on the shoulder of 78, right before the Berkeley Hts. turnoff.

The pushbutton did the hassle of turning the crank, to get the window down.

"Good morning, Sir," was all he said, bending down, looking in, his eyes swiping over the dashboard, from left to right. After whistling, he replied, "Nice piece of equipment you have here!"

I might have been mistaken, but I wasn't sporting an erection!

"You mean the car, officer?"

He looked me straight in the face and giggled. I realized what I had just said.

Brazenly, he replied, "Yeah, I meant the car, but hey, if you're willing, I am too!"

With entrapment on my mind, I offered back, "Do you always stop motorists, with picking them up in mind, officer?"

He changed his tune, immediately, saying nervously, "I... ah... um, didn't mean anything by it, sir, I can assure you that..."

It became my time to laugh, at this cop falling all over his words.

"It's okay. What's your name? Luke, here," I said, more comfortably, extending my shaking hand, putting my arm across my chest.

"Whew! You really had me going there, Luke. John Newcomb's the name."

"Nice to meet you John."

"Hey, look, I'm sorry I pulled you over, Luke. It's just that in this area there's some beauties that go by and sometimes I can't pass up seeing what the vehicle holds, on the inside."

"I'll take that as a compliment, John."

He most likely meant the guts of the car, but I loved to tease!

"Looks like I'm getting myself in deeper and deeper, huh Luke?" I knew he realized where I was going with this, "I didn't mean... oh yeah.... hee heee."

"Well, I need to get going John. Nice to meet you. Maybe we'll run into each other again sometime."

I could sense his disappointment. In a way, I had the same inclination. From what I could see, which was more than a good looking kisser, I wouldn't mind getting to know John, beyond our highway encounter.

"Say, would it be okay if I left my number with you, Luke?"

He did seem a bit edgy, as a cop handing a motorist personal information, so I tried to ease it over. I did want to keep in touch, as well.

"I see. You want to try out my Jaguar for yourself sometime, huh John?"

"Um... yeah, that's it, Luke. You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all John, here's a piece of paper."

"Thanks, Luke."

As I pulled off of the shoulder, he already warned me to be careful, as to not have my tires spitting up any loose gravel. A very pleasant man, John wished me 'good luck' and to be careful, as with any motorist.

He followed me up the road, until I make the left turn switchover to Rt. 24. I had to piss something fierce, so turned off at the Short Hills exit and proceeded to the mall entrance. What a nightmare of mazes! Finally I found a parking place almost directly in front of Nordstrom's. I figured they 'have' to have a jon. Most likely somebody would be cursing me out, as I took up two parking spaces, the white line running underneath the middle of my sportscar. As I proceeded to the store entrance, I spied back at my brand new Jaguar XJ, no less than five times.

My attire was more suited for dinner with a client, but I didn't feel like zipping around in my casual jeans and tee shirt. No wonder, with my $800.00 Hickey tween sport coat, $225.00 flat front pants, and the Tommy Hilfiger windowpane dress shirt, that set me back $60.00, that somebody didn't beg to help me. No, I waltzed right through the men's department and near the customer service area. Yeah, alright, two teen guys did give me the once or twice over. I smiled at them. Nice of them to think of smiling back. They didn't slouch, as far as the high ticket clothing, covering their later teen bodies, had been concerned. Why should I be surprised? This is the mecca of Short Hills shopping!

Usually, when dressed to the 'T', I took on a stall, which I proceeded to do. Suddenly, the penne dish I had at Paisano's began to filter through my system. Off came the sport coat, hanging it on the hook of the back door. I quickly removed the tweed coat away to read, scratched into the door, 'if you can read this, you're gay!' I laughed, grinning to nobody but the interiors of the stall. Typical high school stuff. That wasn't the end of it. After making sure the toilet seat was spotless, both sides, I dropped my pants, low rise CK's and sat down just in time. I didn't think I was too vocal.

'Ooooooh!' at the relief of the fare from last night leaving my system.

"I know how you feel, mister!"

'How I feel?' I leaned to my left, bracing my arm against the stall wall. Sure enough, a pair of jeans sat on the floor. I wasn't clued in to how old the occu'pants' could be, but the voice sounded young. Silence followed for awhile. I did my business, pissed out a few, wiped, stood, pulled up my briefs, pants, latched the buckle, then went for my jacket. The same time I threw the bolt on the stall door, I heard the one next to me disengage. I have to admit that it piqued my curiosity to see whom those jeans belonged to. I looked in his direction.

"Hi!"

"Uh, hello there," I decided not to be too friendly, heading for the sink.

"I'm Roberto."

"Oh, okay," I plainly said to the kid that looked to be somewheres in the early college stages.

"I didn't get your name, mister?"

"That's because I didn't give it," I informed Roberto, not seeking to be highly friendly.

"Oh."

Looking in the mirror, he looked kind of sad. My immediate reaction had been 'drugs'. That's when the men's room door flew open.

"Oh, so here you are, Roberto! I've been looking all over Nordstrom's for you. Ro-ber-to, come on. You know you've got to tell me when you've got to go."

"Sorry Alberto. I'm always a problem for you, aren't I?"

"No. Never, Roberto. I just have to know where you are. You know that, Roberto."

I then felt like a real heel. Obviously, there had been something dibilitating about Roberto. Thinking back to his remark, it struck me as comical.

"Did you get dad on the phone, Alberto?"

"No. Probably he's still at work. We'll have to walk home."

I then figured out that the two looked like, most likely had to be, brothers. Alberto, doing his caretaker's job of keeping track of Roberto.

"My feet hurt, Alberto."

"I'm sorry about that, bro, but I don't have money for a taxi."

"Thanks for the ice cream, Alberto."

What a tender moment, as Roberto rushed Alberto, putting him in a huglock, the caring brother resigning to placing his arms around his younger brother and hugging him back. Looking up, he caught me eyeing the two. I figured I'd get a rude comment back, like 'mind your own business'.

Instead, Alberto informed me, "My brother," as if he thought I thought something 'gay' about the two of them embracing!

"What Alberto?" Roberto asked, as the younger brother broke the hugging action.

Become a Patreon to support Taletopia!

The story continues in

written by achieving_loft