Trading Places Ch. 2

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Fine print works both ways.
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Part 2 of the 7 part series

Updated 10/31/2022
Created 06/16/2002
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Bob Peale
Bob Peale
97 Followers

©June 2002 by Bob Peale

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Author's Note:

This story was originally distributed in 7 chapters. If you missed the other installments, check my author's page.

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without the written permission of the author.

This story may be freely distributed with this notice attached, as long as no charge is made for it and it isn't changed in any way. If it is archived or displayed, it is done so with the understanding that the author will have unrestricted access to the archive or posting.

Please address all feedback, inquiries, marriage proposals, etc. to the author.

*******

It was Bill's idea to start the annual trip. Between work and married life he missed the time spent with "just the guys", doing stupid things and getting sloppy.

It started out as him and Dan, out and about in Vegas. They met Jeff on the third testosterone pilgrimage. Now a gang of three, the responsibility for planning the getaway rotated.

Naturally, Bill had the honors for the tenth anniversary trip. He was very secretive about his intentions, unwilling even to give hints to Dan and Jeff. When it finally came time to go, Bill provided Jeff with an address (because he had to fly in), but he insisted that Dan meet him at his house so they could ride together.

"Dan, this is Mark," Bill gestured into the back seat as Dan opened the front door of Bill's SUV. "He works with me. I was telling him about our trips and he said they sounded like fun, so I invited him along."

Dan nodded a "Hello" and slid into the front seat of the Rover. "So, are you ready to tell me where we're going?"

"Nope," Bill smiled, easing the car into drive.

From the direction they set out in, it was obvious clear that they wouldn't be taking a plane to their destination. Determined not to let Bill know that the suspense was killing him, Dan opened the glovebox, fished around for a CD, and popped it in the player.

As the drive stretched first into 1 hour and then into 2, Dan wondered how much Mark knew. He looked over his shoulder; Mark was clearly unconcerned. Sighing irritably, he settled into the seat and watched the landscape roll by.

By the fourth hour the early morning twilight had given way to the chalky gray shimmer of a pending storm. The trees swayed and bent under the near constant pressure of high winds, and in the distance electric blue zig-zags of lightning split the dark sky, accompanied by muffled claps of thunder several seconds later.

Dan looked over at his friend. His jaw was set rigidly, a sure sign that something was bothering him. He was also gripping the steering wheel tightly, and his attention was focused straight ahead.

Almost 6 hours after they started out they pulled onto a well-worn dirt road, bouncing along uncomfortably as the sky opened up and a solid curtain of water surrounded the Rover, hammering the exterior with thousands of tiny streams of water. Bill slowed down to avoid running off the road or running into another vehicle, the muscles in his jaw bunching and releasing spastically.

The visibility was so poor that none of them saw the steps until it was almost too late. Like a ghostly manor floating in and out of permanence, several long, wide, wooden steps suddenly materialized a few feet in front of them, filling the windscreen and stretching off in either direction. Bill slammed on the breaks, biting into the loose mud and sliding forward until the first few steps slid under his bumper. All three men winced at the solid "thunk" sound of the bottom step connecting with the thick tires of the Rover, expecting it to be followed by the sound of splintering wood. It never came, but the car did come to an abrupt stop.

Putting on his game face Bill smiled and turned to his passengers. "We're here," he sang with false jocularity. Then he threw open the driver's side door, jumped out, and bounded up the stairs they'd just collided with.

"Where the fuck are we," Mark asked from the back seat.

Dan turned to face him. "I was hoping you knew." Mark shook his head. "Well then, I guess the only thing left to do is follow."

Bracing against the downpour both men struggled out of the car and shouldered their way up the stairs and through a wide wooden doorway. A little over 3 feet forward, shielded from the elements, were 2 thick, rustic looking doors that swung open surprisingly easy. Inside was a faux wilderness decorated lobby, with a large carved wooden desk. Bill stood in front of it dripping on the unrealistic looking grizzly bear carpet, talking to a pasty-faced man in a tacky black and red checked flannel shirt.


"What do you mean 'normal'?" Bill asked in a simmering tone. "The webpage didn't say anything about this place being in the middle of a monsoon belt."

The man struggled not to smile. The look on his face plainly said, "Looks like we got us another one."

"Sir," Flannel Shirt said politely. "The website did say that this was our off season."

"I know that!" Bill snapped. "But I don't remember the fucking waterfall being mentioned!" he barked, gesturing out the window at the torrential rain.

"In all honesty, it is seldom that bad for any length of time."

Bill's shoulders relaxed slightly.

"Usually all we get is a constant drizzle this time of year," Flannel Shirt continued.

"Look asshole," Bill screamed, reaching across the counter and grabbing Flannel Shirt. Dan rushed forward quickly and separated them.

"Bill, calm down…"

"These fucking crooks…" Bill sputtered, unable to complete his sentence.

Dan turned back to the desk, "Do you have a bar or a lounge around here?"

Ruffled, Flannel Shirt gestured across the lobby at a doorway with the words "Last Roundup" painted to look like they had been burned in overhead. Dan led Bill to it, calling for Mark to follow them. A few minutes later he returned alone.

"Look…" he looked at the name badge askew on Flannel Shirt's breast pocket, "…Chad. It appears we have a misunderstanding."

Chad brushed away an imaginary piece of lint. "'We' don't have anything, sir. Your friend is the one with the problem."

"He feels he was suckered. He tried to plan this great trip, loved everything he saw on the web, and he doesn't think this place did a good job of helping him understand what he was getting into."

"Well, he sure looked like a grownup to me. He can read, can't he?"

Now it was Dan's turn to struggle to stay calm. A 6 hour car ride wasn't overly conducive to level headedness as it is; add to that the fact that "Chad" was a grade A asshole and it was almost a foregone conclusion that this was going to end badly.

"Look Chad, why don't we see if we can all walk away from this happy. I talked to my friend; he says he had to pay for the week in advance. What say you give us back half the money and we call it even?" Dan asked in his best Can't We All Get Along voice.

Chad looked at him, unblinking, for several long seconds. Then a smile crept across his face.

"Of course," he said amicably. "Just as soon as the Queen Mother walks through that door and sucks my left nut."

Dan's hand was halfway to Chad's throat before he got himself under control. "There's no reason to be a dickhead," he said ominously.

"Look sport," Chad said irritably. "We're running a business here. Your buddy wanted a resort that 'catered to all lifestyles in a free and open environment', and that's what he got," he said, reciting the marketing spiel from the website. "But our confirmation plainly states that any cancellation less than 72 hours before arrival will result in forfeiture." He shrugged. "Maybe you should find friends that aren't so interested in saving a buck."

"What do you mean, 'all lifestyles in a free and open environment'?" Dan asked, seemingly changing the subject.

Chad flashed him a lewd smile. "You like that, huh? In season, this place can get pretty wild. On the grounds, pretty much anything goes--one big orgy most times. All kinds of couplings; hell, half the time people don't even wear any clothes."

"Does that only apply to 'In Season'?"

Chad shrugged. "Technically, no. But the people we get up here this time of year aren't usually as adventurous. Because the weather sucks, all of the beach bunnies stay home. Mostly we get corporate offsites, a few families from places with even worse weather, young couples, and cheapskates," he finished, fixing Dan with a pointed glance.

Dan nodded his head knowingly. "But you still offer all the same amenities, right?"

Chad looked suspicious. "We offer everything it states in our literature," he confirmed.

Whistling innocently, Dan turned and rejoined his friends in the lounge. Twenty minutes later all 3 emerged, stark naked, and walked over to the counter.

"We'd like to check in, please," Bill said pleasantly.

Chad's face went white. "Gentlemen, I'll have to ask you to put on some clothes."

"Why?" Mark asked innocently. "I thought you 'catered to all lifestyles in a free and open environment'"

Chad shot Dan a look that would peel paint right off the wall. When a loud ding announced the arrival of an elevator, Bill, Dan and Mark all turned so that the occupants got a full view of them in all their glory. Three couples emerged, all in their fifties, shock registering immediately on their faces. The women quickly averted their eyes and the men glowered at the trio as they hurried past. They turned back to Chad.

"Sir, our business office is closed today, but if you'll give us a call first thing Monday morning, I'll be happy to arrange a full refund." His voice quivered noticeably.

Bill shook his head. "No, it's fine, really. You are absolutely right; we have a binding agreement." He filled out a registration form and slid it across the desk. "My key, please."

He read Bill's name off the form. "Really Mr. Kendall, I don't think…"

"Mark, do you still litigate discrimination cases?" Bill interrupted.

Chad's shoulders stiffened. This clearly wasn't a fight he wanted to pick. Irritably, he reached under the counter and yanked out a key, tossing it at Bill. Smiling, Dan and Mark filled out their forms and accepted their keys as well. Laughing, they walked out to the Rover, unloaded the car, and then got settled in their room. When Jeff arrived later that evening, they explained the situation.

The web made this place sound like a Club Med style dude ranch. In all fairness, during part of the year it probably was, but this wasn't that part of the year. Even if the rain did abate, they weren't holding out much hope for sunshine. But since leaving meant a loss of almost $2,000, they were determined to make the most of it.

Hence, the nudism thing. Although none of them had ever walked around naked intentionally, if doing so would irritate the sanctimonious assholes that ran this place, they were willing to deal with the stares and their own self-consciousness. Hell, if they were lucky, maybe they'd even get a little pussy out of it.

*******

Disclaimer:

This story is a work fiction. None of the characters or events herein are based on real people, either living or dead.

It was produced for the entertainment of ADULTS ONLY, and contains descriptions of explicit sex. If you are not an adult, or if reading stories of a sexual nature upsets you, do not read any further!

By reading it, you certify that you have accessed/requested access to this material willfully, and that you are an adult 21 years of age or older.

You also certify that you are NOT a city, county, state, or federal law enforcement officer, official of the United States Postal Service, acting in the capacity of a representative of a telecommunications firm, and that, to your knowledge, this material does not offend the standards in your area, nor is it in violation of any of local, state, or federal law.

No animals were harmed in the manufacture of this product.

Bob Peale
Bob Peale
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