The Coffee Shop Pt. 05

The Coffee Shop V: Happiness Is A Handsome Hypnotized Hunk

Disclaimer. The following story is a work of fiction. The characters portrayed within are a work of fiction as well, and any resemblance to any person, living or dead is a coincidence and unintentional.

Copyright 2012. This story is the property of the author, Canadian Cowboy (formerly known as Animal360 and also Animal360too). Any duplication, in whole or in part, is forbidden without the express written consent of the author, Canadian Cowboy.

Author's Note. Since each succeeding story in this series builds upon the events that occurred in the previous stories in this series, I strongly urge you to read the other stories that comprise this series. These stories, in the proper sequence, are:
The Coffee Shop.
The Coffee Shop II: Cowboys and Tuxedos.
The Coffee Shop III: The Good, the Bad, and the Hypnotized.
The Coffee Shop IV: Sex, Lies and Duct Tape.

To all those Dear Readers who were kind enough to write to me: I would like to apologize for the long delay in posting this latest part of "The Coffee Shop" series. There were more pressing demands on my time, such that work on this series had to be postponed. Your patience and understanding is greatly appreciated. It is my sincere hope that this story has been worth the wait.

Chapter 1. A Friend In Need

"You can't put it off forever, you know. You're going to have to deal with this sooner or later," Andy said as he sat next to me on the sofa.

I had invited Andy over to my apartment for a quiet Friday afternoon visit. We had not seen much of each other for the past few weeks through no fault of our own. Our work schedules had not meshed well enough to let us spend any time together. Finally, though, we had managed to arrange an afternoon all to ourselves. I only had to gaze upon Andy's handsome face after he walked into my apartment to know that the effort was well worth it. Of course the fact that Andy was a seriously major league stud muffin, had nothing to do with my desire to spend some time with him. (If you believe that, I know this guy in Nigeria who needs some help moving some money out of the country, and he'll even pay you a ten percent mover's fee.) I guess I can't really blame you for thinking that my interest in Andy was based partly on his physical appearance. I'd have to be dead for three days not to notice how good looking Andy was. Andy was a sweet angel of a man, who just happened to also be a heavenly hunk in tight light blue jeans with killer buns, and a smile that could melt the polar ice cap. Best of all he was all mine, heart, mind and soul. Oh yes, Andy was a most handsome man. He had the kind of muscular build to catch the eye of any living breathing gay man. I am a living breathing gay man so of course I noticed Andy. Well noticed wouldn't quite be the word. The first time I saw Andy my jaw dropped to the floor and I had to wipe the drool away from my mouth. I didn't exactly impress him with that rather adolescent reaction to his appearance. I don't suppose you can really blame me because Andy was so damn good looking in his RCMP dress uniform. Frankly Andy should've been on a postcard or something he was almost too good looking to be true. Later when I found out what was underneath that RCMP uniform, and the mind behind those soft doe brown eyes of his, that's when I really knew that I'd hit the jackpot.

Now try to use your imagination. Bear with me here for a few seconds. Try to use your imagination and picture this in your mind if you can. To begin with Andy is about six feet maybe six-foot one inch in height and he has black hair which he keeps cut very short. His eyes are a warm soft doe brown and glow with a special light that I know is just for me. Those beautiful eyes of his reside in a clean-shaven ruggedly handsome face with a square jaw, a hard Roman nose and firm full even lips; a most handsome face indeed. To put it lightly Andy's body matches his head. Moving down from that firm jaw line, one's eye travels to the muscular neck which slowly spreads out to his broad muscular shoulders. The muscles continue down his arms and forearms to his heavily calloused hands which are both strong and surprisingly gentle. His chest, his wonderfully hairy chest, is a place that I have rested my head many a time and listened to the steady beating of his heart. (God, if that isn't heaven, it's a close second.) The muscles continue down his chest and his back, every pound, every inch of flesh in exactly the place where it should be with not a hint, a suggestion, of flab or fat. As you have probably expected by now, rock hard abs led to a narrow waist. Firmly muscled legs, thunder thighs and of course a bubble butt completed the picture. Even Andy's feet were muscular and kind of sexy. Unquestionably Andy is a beautiful physical specimen of a man. (I hope you've got a clear picture of what Andy looks like in your mind, because that's as close as you're ever going to do get to him, dear reader.)

Yet for all his size Andy was a surprising gentle and kind hearted man. Andy had a sweetness and kindness that didn't always come through that easily when you talked with him. I suspected a lot of that had to do with the fact that his being a police officer (an RCMP constable actually) meant that he often had to be a tough strong policeman all the time. Looking at him I couldn't help but think how lucky I was to have not only met this man but also to have become involved with him. I was blessed to be more than just his friend. I was someone that he cared about, someone that he trusted, someone that he loved. It brought a warm glow to my heart to realize that with each passing day the trust and love we felt for each other became stronger and stronger. Yet we had still not become lovers in the true sense of the word. We were very intimate and there was a lot of touching and feeling going on, but we had not yet consummated our relationship. Andy had told me that he wasn't ready for that step. If the truth be told, neither was I. We agreed to take things slow, one day at a time, and see where they lead. We were both new at this sort of thing, being in a gay relationship, and we did not want to rush into anything. Still, it amazed me at times, at just how lucky I was to have found someone like Andy, and to have had the two of us fall in love with each other. I guess I must have done something good in my life to have had Andy become a part of my life For the all the green tea in China though, I could not tell you what that something good might have been.

"I suppose you're right," I sighed in agreement. It took only a few seconds for my reminiscing about Andy to flash through my mind. I focused my attention back on the conversation at hand. "But does it have to be tomorrow?" I asked with a plaintive tone to my voice.

"Hey you picked the date, Texas, not me," Andy said with a sly grin and a twinkle in his eye.

I smiled back at him, as I felt my spirits rise. Somehow Andy always seemed to know what to say to cheer me up. "Okay, you've got me there. But at least we have the rest of the afternoon and evening to spend together," I replied, as I contemplated an evening of snuggling and cuddling with Andy on the sofa.

"Indeed we do," Andy agreed. "Now how about?." His words were cut off by the sound of the apartment doorbell.

"Damn!" I muttered as I cursed whatever entity it was who had seen fit to arrange for this interruption. I got up and walked over to the door, not in the best of moods. I wrenched the door open, venting part of my frustration in the process.

"I didn't know where else to turn. Please, can I come inside and talk with you?" Pleaded the city police officer standing at my open front door, looking a tad nervous, and very upset.

I gulped as I stood there in silent shock, my moth hanging open in stunned surprise. The last thing I had expected to see was a police officer on the other side of the door. That's what I got for not looking through the peephole first. Considering what the Council of Coins had told me a few weeks ago, I would not have been all that surprised to have seen a member of the Council or a representative from the Council, appear on my doorstep. I was still feeling slightly paranoid since my meeting with the Council. I suppose it was understandable, after all they had told me that they were going to 'watch and wait'. Such a declaration did not give me a warm and fuzzy feeling. I started to feel like I was being watched, wherever I went. After a few days of that though, I decided that if the Council of Coins wanted to keep track of my activities, there wasn't much if anything, that I could do to stop them. I couldn't go to the police or to the courts and ask for a restraining order. How in the world would I begin to explain such a situation? I didn't have any hard proof that I could show anyone. The Council of Coins had years (more likely decades) of experience in keeping a low profile and covering their tracks. They were more than capable of handling any police inquiry that I might be able to send their way. So, I shrugged it off and went about my normal routine, but with a slightly heightened sense of caution. I found myself paying more attention to the people and events around me. I took less for granted, and kept my guard up. The only time I really relaxed was in the privacy of my apartment, or when I was with Andy.

During the intervening weeks between my 'test' with the Council of Coins, and this unexpected visit from a city police officer, Andy and I had been spending as much time together as we could arrange. After thinking that Andy had been killed and that I'd lost him, I was scared every time that he was out of my sight. It took several weeks, and a lot of long talks with Andy, for me to work through that fear. Finally though, I was able to let Andy go off to work with a sincere smile on my face. I still worried about Andy when he went off to work, but they were worries that I could deal with and conquer. I wasn't terrified that I would never see Andy again. One unexpected benefit of our experience with the Council of Coins and their 'test' was that I had discovered a new and profound appreciation for Andy and the time I was able to spend with him. However, I was miles away from forgiving the Council of Coins for putting me through their little test in the first place. But, I am drifting away from the story.

"Uh?.yes, sure," I answered after a second or two. It took me that long to recover from the initial surprise of seeing this man on my doorstep again. "You know you're always welcome, Steve." I moved back to let Steven Stokes my long time friend, and former hypnosis subject (and my first love, too) into my apartment. "Come and sit down. Do you want something to drink?"

"Uh, no thanks," Steve answered absently as he headed off to the living room. I followed him into the living room, and admired the view of his butt in those snug uniform pants of his. So maybe I couldn't touch, but there is no reason why I couldn't look, and believe me, Steven Stokes was something more than an eyeful to look at. Steven plopped himself down on the sofa. He removed his uniform hat from his head and placed it beside him on the sofa as he wiggled around trying to get comfortable. It took me a few seconds to realize that Andy was nowhere in sight. He must have headed into the kitchen for a glass of water or something.

For those of you who haven't met Steven Stokes (and even if you have, I'm sure you'll enjoy this anyway), he was about 28 years old and a police officer in the local city police force. So, while he was not an RCMP constable like my 'dear heart' Andy, Steve could still have given Andy a run for his money in the good looks department.

Steve was at least 6 feet tall, and maybe 220 pounds. As I took in an eyeful of him, it dawned on me that Steve was a bit more buff than the last time I'd seen him. I concluded that he must have been working out at the gym more than usual. Steve was built like a brick blockhouse, with well muscled arms and legs, a beautiful torso and clean cut almost chiseled features. Add to that short cropped brown hair, deep olive green eyes that made you want to dive into them, and a smile that could melt the heart of any gay man in the immediate vicinity. When Steve moved you finally knew what 'poetry in motion' meant. He was graceful, and controlled. The uniform that he wore had to have been tailored to fit him. It could not have been off the rack. The uniform consisted of a light blue long sleeved shirt, which emphasized his muscular arms. It wasn't so much that the sleeves were narrow, rather that Steve's arms were so muscular. There were two open chest pockets on that shirt, with a silver pen clipped inside of the left pocket. The dark blue pants were well fitting, with a red stripe down the outside seam of each leg. The front pockets of the uniform pants were side angle pockets. I could not see Steve's backside, but if I remembered correctly those uniform pants would be a bit on the snug side, with two welt pockets one on each side. The left back pocket would have a button tab closure. If Steve was carrying his wallet, and I hoped that he was, it would be in the right back pocket of those uniforms pants, causing them to become somewhat tighter across Steve's buttocks. These thoughts flashed through my mind quickly followed with a flush of sexual excitement, as I gazed upon the front of Steve's uniform pants for a moment or two. Black polished shoes, dark coloured socks, a dark blue standard police officer's hat and a dark navy blue plain tie, with a simple silver tie clip completed the outfit. It was unusual for Steve to wear a tie with his working uniform. Cops don't wear ties on duty, for safety reasons, so I found it a bit odd that Steve was wearing the black leather gun belt with his uniform. I examined Steve a bit more intensely. His uniform was sharply pressed and looked fresh, as if he had just changed into it. His face was not only clean, but remarkably free of any five o'clock shadow, especially considering that it was about 4 PM. His hair was neatly combed and looked as if it had just been washed. Heck it even looked a little bit damp. Putting all the clues altogether, I came to the conclusion that for some as of yet unknown reason, Steve had decided that he wanted to look his very best before coming over to see me. An interesting, if somewhat naught idea sprung up in my mind, but I savagely pulled it out and tossed it away like an unwelcome weed discovered in a flower bed. Steve was my friend, and such thoughts, as interesting and harmless as they might have been, were a dishonour to him and to our friendship. (Damn my morals and ethics, they never let me have any fun!)

I sighed with delight at the remembrance of the many nights that I'd had the joy and privilege of helping Steve to become 'out of uniform', if you catch my drift. Then I caught myself and remembered that Steve wasn't mine to play with any more. Steve belonged heart and soul to Jack Jones. Steve was still a very close friend. He was a good friend, too. I sat down in the chair next to the sofa and looked at Steve, waiting for him to speak.

After a minute or so of him looking around nervously, I finally broke the stony silence. "So what can I do for you, Steve?" I asked him with a warm and welcoming smile on my face.

"Help, yeah right," Steve answered in that same disjointed and distracted tone of voice. "I guess that's why I'm here, but I don't know what you can do. It's just not fair. I thought we had something special. And now he won't even look at me. Hell, he won't even touch me! It's been three weeks or more I guess. I'm not sure. I've lost count. But it's not fair is it? I've done everything that I know how to do, and it doesn't seem to make any difference. Am I asking too much? Or maybe I'm not pushing hard enough? What do you think?"

The barrage of questions and disconnected sentences tumbling out of Steve's mouth like water going over Niagara Falls, caught me completely off guard. I could only sit there and blink in confusion as I tried to piece together the tatters of his conversation and try to understand what he was talking about. Steve looked at me for a few seconds and then started to speak again.

"Look I know you're not an expert on this, but I thought you'd have some idea," he started saying. "I thought at the very least you'd have an objective viewpoint and might be able to see something that I've missed. So what do you think?" He paused to catch his breath. I jumped at the opportunity to get in a few words edgewise.

"Could you please cut your warp engines, and go to impulse?" I asked to him in answer to his last question.

"Huh?" Steve asked, perplexed. "What are you talking about?"

"It refers to Star Trek," I answered him. "Yes, I know that you don't follow that show, but it got your attention, Steve. I'm sorry, but I have no idea what you've been babbling on about for the past few minutes. I gather there is a problem, but I have no clue as to what it is. Could you please calm down and explain it to me?"

"Calm down?" Steve asked with a slight edge to his voice. "I wish I could. I guess I'm so upset that I can't even think straight any more, well except when I'm at work."

"No kidding, Steve," I agreed with him. "You're as nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs." I smiled at him as I tried to lighten the situation.

Steve smiled back at my comment, but it was a faint smile at best. He fidgeted about on the sofa. He was so nervous that he could not even sit still for more than a minute.

"Steve, can't you calm down at all?" I asked more puzzled than ever. "I don't see how I can help you, if you can't talk to me about whatever it is that has you so upset."

"I suppose not," he admitted. "I guess this was a bad idea. Maybe I should just leave and not dump on you." Steve stood up and put his uniform hat back on his head in preparation to leave my apartment.

"Hold it right there, Mister!" I barked out at him in a forceful and commanding tone of voice. Steve looked at me in surprise and stood there with his hat on his head looking down at me in startled confusion. "Sit back down!" I yelled out at him. Stunned, Steve complied.

"Steve, we've been friends, good and close friends for a long time now," I said in a much softer and friendlier tone of voice. "Don't you know that I'm always here for you, whenever you need someone to talk to? There can't be anything you can tell me that could be that bad. Don't you know that you were my first love? You're not mine any more, true, but I still care about you, a lot. I always will." I smiled at him, and held out my right hand to him.

Slowly he took my hand in his right hand and grasping it firmly he nodded his head in silent thanks. I saw him swallow as he tried to speak past the lump in his throat. I waited patiently. He would speak when he was ready and able.

"Thank you, Paul," he finally said in near whisper. He took a deep breath and let it out in a long slow sigh. Steve smiled at me and took another breath as he prepared to speak. "It's just so hard to talk about," he finally said in a normal speaking voice. "I wish I could just open up and tell you everything, but I just can't seem to talk about it, as much as I want to."

"What's so hard to talk about?" asked a sexy warm honey smooth tenor voice, from somewhere behind, above and off to the left of Steve.

Steve turned his head to his right, as I looked up to my left, to see Andy strolling up to the sofa. Andy was dressed in a pair of snug, but not tight light blue jeans without a belt. A bright red T-shirt with an RCMP crest over the left breast, clung to Andy's magnificent torso. Andy took a deep breath and I couldn't help but wonder why that T-shirt didn't split at the seams. I also couldn't help a smile from breaking out on my face. Andy has that effect on me, even if all he does is take a deep breath. (Yes, I am most definitely smitten with Andy, and frankly, I wouldn't have it any other way.)