Adam and Kyle Ch. 03

Hello once again! This is the third installment of the "Adam and Kyle" series. Also, the identical previous installments are titled under "Friends 'til the End", but will discontinued and simply be "Adam and Kyle". As always, feedback and comments are highly appreciated. I hope you enjoy!

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Chapter 03

"You did WHAT with Missy last night?!"

Kyle nearly swerved off the road when I informed him of the previous nights' sexcapades.

"Yup. You heard me. And watch the damn road! I don't wanna die in some freak accident on my first day of work."

Due to the fact that my family only had one car, I was often handed the short end of the stick seeing that my mom had so many things to do, so I usually walked or bummed a ride off Kyle as my main source of transportation.

"Man. I told you she was gonna try to pull some shit, didn't I?"

"I couldn't help it. She was basically naked and on her knees begging."

I embellished a bit, but hey, what teenaged boy doesn't?

"AND! I got my jacket back. If nothing else comes from us getting back together, at least I have that."

"Pfft. Whatever."

After about 10 minutes on the road, we pulled up in front of the Palms Recreational Center.

"So, how do I look?"

Kyle gave me the once over, and I was sure I was gonna get a smart-assed remark.

"You know how Andre Agassi looked in the 80s? That peroxide-blonde mullet and his neon and paint-splattered get-ups?"

I couldn't help but laugh.

"Yeah, I know."

"Well, you look like that...only gayer."

Seeing as I was wearing a white polo shirt and tennis shorts and had my BROWN hair stylishly combed up, I knew he was really scraping the bottom of the barrel to come up with any good cracks.

"Is that all you got? Man, you're really losing it."

"Whatever."

I opened the door and began to get out.

"Are you gonna be able to get me after work?"

"Uhhh... yeah, unless Jenna ties a leash to my dick and handcuffs me to a pipe in her basement."

"I wouldn't put that beneath her. I'll see ya later." Kyle drove off as I walked down the treed walkway and swiped my employee card to open up the black wrought-iron fence. Seeing as Palms wouldn't be opening for another hour, there was not a soul around.

I walked up the brick walkway and entered the off-white main building where a woman in her mid-twenties was sitting at the information desk. She was rather beautiful; she had long blonde hair that was done up in a neat ponytail and looked like one of those women in a Club Med commercial who was clad in a white bikini and snorkeling among tropical fish.

"You must be Adam. I'm Arin."

"Nice to meet you."

"Sam won't be here for another ten minutes, so if you'd like I can show you the employee locker rooms and give you your equipment."

Sam, being the tennis instructor, I presumed. I was only told that a Samuel Hewitt was the Big Man on Campus here at the Palms and I would be "privileged to work with such a great guy."

"Sure, thanks," I replied.

She led me through a "Staff Only" door and continued walking down the hallway. The floor was done up in some sort of Spanish tiling and the walls were a complementing stucco dark-mustard-yellow.

"This is a really great place," I said, trying to make conversation. "I was only shown the sports facilities yesterday so I had no idea the rest of the place was done up so fancily."

"Yeah, isn't it great? Apparently, some rich guy donated millions of dollars to have this place done up exactly like the tennis academy he attended in Spain and just expanded it to a complete rec center. I guess the nostalgia is worth millions of dollars."

Beautiful and sarcastic; I was beginning to like her.

"Okay. This is the locker room." She pushed through a wooden door that said "Men" on it. "Once Sam gets here, he'll issue you a locker and a combination lock if you don't have one. The showers are all the way on your left through the double archways and you can drop off and pick up your tennis gear at the cage right near the door."

"Okay. Thanks."

"Sam should be here any minute, so if you'd like you can wait for him on the main tennis court since you're already changed. Do you have a tennis racket?"

"Er, not yet."

Arin laughed.

"A tennis instructor's assistant with no racket--Isn't that like a soldier going off to war without a gun?"

I laughed nervously.

"It's okay," she said, "I'm sure Sam will have an extra."

"Okay. Thanks," I repeated.

We parted ways and I headed towards the main tennis courts feeling slightly like a fool.

The court was still empty; Sam hadn't arrived yet. I headed over to the metal bench and just waited. Within minutes, I heard the chain link fence open, then close, and that's when I saw him.

6'3" of Golden God.

The first thing I noticed was his slight Five o' clock shadow; it gave him a ruggedly handsome look. His long sun-kissed sinewy legs seemed to glimmering in the early morning sun and his tennis shorts (which looked more like boxers) seemed to make them look even longer than they actually were. His damn-near transparent cotton t-shirt was doing complete justice to his sturdy, muscular torso and defined abs. His beautiful biceps were bulging under the strain of multiple tennis rackets in one arm and dragging a ball cart with the other.

"Would you mind giving me a hand!" He yelled from across the courts.

Oh God. My first day and I've already managed to completely make an ass out of myself. I nearly tripped over my feet trying to rise from the bench. I ran over and grabbed the rackets from him.

"Sorry about that. I was kinda in another world."

"No worries, mate."

His thick Australian accent seemed to be dripping with honey and made him all that more appealing.

"Sorry I'm late. Traffic was murder."

He took off his UCLA Bears hat and I got the first real good look of his face. He had unruly light brown bed-head hair; lighter than mine, but just as thick. The brightest blue eyes I had ever seen, a nose that was a work of art-- a jaw and chin to match--and thick, pouty lips that seemed to be plastered in a smile that most definitely charmed every single woman he ever met.

"So as you probably guessed, I'm Sam Hewitt, the tennis instructor. Sorry I couldn't make it yesterday to meet with you during orientation. I had some things I needed to take care of."

"I'm Adam, and it's cool." His rugged good looks left me with a feeling of powerlessness. I felt like some blathering idiot around him and I if I was going to be this distracted whenever I was around him, working at Palms was either going to teach me a lot of self-control or end in utter embarrassment.

"Did Arin get to show you all our facilities and Staff Areas?"

His question snapped me back to reality.

"Oh. Uh, yeah. But I don't have a tennis racket yet."

He laughed. Oh god, that laugh.

"A tennis instructor's assistant without a tennis racket, eh?"

I couldn't help but blush at this.

"Ha ha. Yeah, Arin said the same thing."

"Well, I still need to change into my work uniform so if you come with me to the locker rooms, I can get you a better racket from the cage."

"Yeah, I noticed there's a slight difference between our outfits."

He looked at my crisp white polo and tennis shorts, then glanced at his ratty tennis shoes, what seemed to be boxer-briefs, and his thin cotton t-shirt. Again, he laughed. I could've sworn that I felt a stirring in my loins every time I heard his deep voice.

"Yeah, to tell you the honest truth, I kinda rolled out of bed and sped here. Didn't want to be any later on my apprentice's first day."

He socked me playfully on the shoulder and I felt a jolt of electricity run through my body and end at my cock. Oh god. This guy was doing something to me that I couldn't even explain. At this rate, every time the guy touched me I was gonna have to go take a cold shower and jerk off.

"Shall we?"

We left the mediocre rackets and cart of tennis balls on the court and we began the walk back to the locker rooms. As we entered the off-white building, Arin gave us a wave and batted her long lashes at Sam.

"Well look who finally decided to show up."

"Arin, darling, you know the only reason I actually come to work is to see you."

She flashed him a huge smile and looked a bit flustered.

"See you boys later."

As we pushed through the "Staff Only" door, Sam led the way and basically gave me a quick recap of the rules at Palms while I was enjoying the view—him. "You can only enter and exit through the same gate when coming to and leaving from work."

"Got it."

"Make sure not to clock in any earlier than your designated time otherwise the general manager will be on you like flies on shit—excuse the language. You get the point."

"Sure."

"Despite the fact that we have an extremely good-looking staff and clients, there is no fraternizing among them. You can easily lose your job over that."

I shot him a somewhat disappointed look, which evoked another one of his loin-stirring laughs.

"Had your eye on someone already?"

"Well, not anymore I suppose."

If he only knew.

"I know how you feel though. I actually met my girlfriend here but since we weren't able to date, we had to sneak around until she quit last month."

So he was straight. And taken.

He pushed through the men's locker room door, headed for the cage, and pulled out a ring of keys from his pocket.

"As I'm sure Arin already told you, this here is the cage. You can drop off and pick up your equipment here, and on days when you arrive earlier than I do, you can also grab a cart of balls from here as well."

I nodded.

"Okay, so let me assign you a locker and a combination lock as well."

He snatched a lock from beneath the desk somewhere and turned it around to find the combination lightly etched into the metal.

"Here we are."

We left the cage and began walking through rows 1-4 of the lockers.

"Locker #361 is all yours and the combination is 11-23-37. Feel free to keep your uniform here so you don't have to constantly be dragging it back and forth. I have locker #397, just down at the end there, so if you need to leave me a message and I'm not around, feel free to just drop it in there."

I nodded once again. I seemed to have lost the ability to articulate words and form them into sentences when I was around him. He entered the combo into his lock and the locker popped open, meanwhile I was still standing there, unsure of what to do or where to go.

"Well mate, I suppose you can just stand there and watch me change, but if you'd like you can go grab a good racket from the cage."

There wasn't a mirror around, but if there was, I'm sure it would' I turned every shade of red ever imagined.

"Oh, uh, yeah, sure."

I practically ran back to the cage and cursed myself the whole way for being such a fool. I opened one of the lockers in the cage and found a large array of rackets.

"Wilson, Prince, Head...what's the difference," I whispered to myself. After holding several rackets in my hand, I finally decided on the Wilson Fusion. I started to put all the rackets back when I caught sight of him.

He had pulled a bag from his locker--presumably containing his uniform--and had placed it on the changing bench. His back was facing me, but what a sight it was. He pulled off his white t-shirt and ruffled his already messed hair. His tan, broad shoulders seemed all encompassing and his muscles flexed although he wasn't exerting any strength. With his back still facing me, he swiftly pulled down his shorts and to my surprise and delight; he was not wearing any underwear. I nearly shot my load right there. It dawned on me that this was the first time I'd actually ever looked at another man naked, and enjoyed it. Sure I'd seen the guys on the wrestling team naked hundreds of times, but this time was different. I was actively looking at this guy's body, and deriving pleasure from it. He stepped out of the shorts and turned to the side to pick them up, and that's when I saw it—the largest dick I'd ever seen. Now, don't get me wrong, it's not like he was John Holmes big, but considering the fact that I'd really only seen my dick and a few other guys' from wrestling, it seemed huge to me. Perfectly thick and straight, cut, about 8 inches soft and only a shade lighter than the rest of his perfectly tanned body—it seemed damn near ideal. He threw his shorts and t-shirt into the locker and bent down and grabbed a pair of grey briefs from the bag. He slipped one foot into it and glanced quickly towards the cage.

Oh shit. I've been caught.

He quickly went back to slipping on his underwear, but then did a double-take once he realized I was standing there staring at him.

My heart was about to burst out of my chest it was beating so fast, and I'm sure all the blood had drained from my face. I was a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, or rather, his pants. I didn't know whether I should duck down real quickly and try to play it off or just pretend that I was looking somewhere else—but where? We were in the damn locker room and we were the only two people there. Not knowing what to do, I just stood there, still staring.

That's when it happened. We were staring at each other, neither one of us moving, when all of a sudden, he flashed a cocky smile and quickly raised one of his eyebrows. It only lasted for a split-second, but I was sure he did it. He looked away, bent down and continued pulling up his briefs. I grabbed my racket and headed for the door. Once I exited the main building, I practically ran to the tennis court and just sat there. What just happened? Was Sam going to fire me because he caught me checking him out? What am I going to say to him? How should I act? Should I tell him I'm confused about what I am and was merely dazing off into space and just happened to be looking in his direction? A million questions ran through my head, all of which the answers scared me.

I was sitting on the metal bench for what seemed like an eternity--but in reality was probably only ten minutes, when people started to pile through the chain-link fence. The majority of them were high school girls that I recognized as freshmen and sophomores at Thurgood and a few male seniors. Oh great, just what I needed. I had just gotten away from this place and now I'm forced to relive the memories.

I assumed Sam still hadn't finished changing (either that or he was already on his way to the Rec Center director and telling him how he was sexually harassed by some new hire) so I took this time to introduce myself.

"Hi, everyone. My name's Adam and I'm Sam's—I mean Coach Hewitt's assistant."

Dull murmurs and greetings were heard all around the class of thirteen people. One arm shot into the air.

"Yes?"

"Didn't you used to go to Thurgood?"

"Yes I did. Just graduated."

"I knew it! I think you went out with my sister, Lisa."

The rolodex in my head started spinning and I was trying to match the name to a face. Lisa...Lisa...Lisa. I was so close to remembering when I heard the chain-link gate slam shut and saw Sam dressed in the official Palms Instructor uniform: a crisp white polo and white shorts.

"Welcome back everyone! Looks like we got a couple new faces here."

The class heartily welcomed Sam and his thousand-watt smile beamed.

"If you'll all just have a good stretch, we can start with a warm-up of just reviewing the basic back and forehands."

The class scattered and Sam walked right over to me. Immediately, my heart started pounding and I felt the need to flee. I was sure he going to call me a fag and say that "My kind wasn't welcome here."

Of course, that didn't happen.

"What I'm gonna have you do is simply go around and scoop up the balls that they hit so we don't have to stop and waste any class time to pick them all up. Also, do you know how to hit a back and forehand?"

I nodded once again.

"I think so. The last time I did was a while ago but I'm pretty sure I can still do it."

He smiled and I swore my knees got weak.

"Okay. If anyone has any questions, answer them if you can otherwise just wave me over."

"Will do."

Okay; Now it was time to be confused. Did he really not notice what just happened in the locker room? Was he just going to play it off and act like it never happened? I wasn't sure if I was glad about it but I didn't have time to sit around and ponder it. The students were smacking forehands left and right and I was scurrying around the court trying to pick all the loose balls up before someone slipped on one and broke their neck.

Despite the fact that I was in very good shape, I found myself constantly wiping the sweat off my brow and having to take short breathers. Wrestling was a very physical sport but it was always done in a nice air-conditioned gym—not outside in the Los Angeles heat.

After about an hour and a half of constantly bending over to pick up balls, I was soaked in sweat and was getting a cramp in my thigh. Luckily, class was just about over.

"Okay everyone. Great job out there! I know this seems rather boring to all of you seeing that it's all basic, but practice makes perfect so this'll be the last time we go through the fundamentals. Ah, that's about it for today so I'll see you all tomorrow."

The female students lingered and made small talk with Sam while they batted their eyelashes and twisted their hair.

"How pathetic," I muttered to myself while continuing to pick up balls, "But then again, that's probably what I'd be doing if I had tits." I felt a pang of jealousy but then realized that these were 15 year old girls trying to woo a 25 year old Greek—or rather Australian—God whose girlfriend was probably just as gorgeous as he was.

The other students were saying their goodbyes to each other when I saw Lisa's sister—the one who asked me if I went to Thurgood—shoot me a look of arrogance and disgust. I cringed thinking about what Lisa had told her about me and the reason why we broke up.

After about five minutes, Sam and I were the only ones left on the court. I was finishing picking up the balls and he was scribbling something into his binder. I managed to pick up the remaining balls and was wheeling the cart over to Sam.

"You did a great job out there today."

Ha. Still acting like a coach, I thought.

I couldn't help but scoff. "Well, you know how imperative it is to ensure the students' safety by making sure there's no loose debris on the court," I said sarcastically. Once again, he flashed his gorgeous smile and I felt my stomach turning in knots.

"Well mate, you got me there," he said while laughing. "But really, you're doing great."

I smiled and gave a weak nod. I grabbed the ball cart and tennis rackets and started heading back to the locker room when Sam called my name and walked over.

"Since I didn't get to meet with you yesterday and get to know you all that well, did you wanna maybe grab some lunch? You deserve it for picking up after them."

My throat went dry and it wasn't because of the heat. Me and him? Sitting alone? Together? Having to converse? No Adam. Don't. Don't do it. It'll be an enormous embarrassment and you're going to regret it.

"Sure."

I truly was thinking with my dick.

"Great. Just let me finish up here and I'll meet you in the lobby in about half an hour. Do you have a car?"

"Er, no. I bummed a ride here off a buddy of mine."

"No worries, we'll take mine."

I nodded once again and continued my walk towards the main building.

I entered through a back door that led directly to the Men's lockers and pushed the cart and rackets into the cage and made sure to lock it. I wiped my hands on my not-so-white polo and realized how sweaty I was. I couldn't go anywhere like this, let alone with the hot Aussie, so I decided to take a quick shower. As I grabbed a towel from the cage, I heard the showers running so I knew I wouldn't panic at the possibility of being in the locker room alone with Sam again.