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The Sheath- Brief (revised) (mm)
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
The Sheath-Brief (Revised): m/m+
"It'll just be for this one night, Neil." Todd had asked me to
cover for him that night as a male model for a private showing of
intimate male attire. Todd had taken a summer job working as a
"model" for a company that worked for a company that marketed
"creative" new men's underwear. In more concrete terms, Todd had
been hired to display the new - "creative," if you will - styles of
men's underwear for selected groups which his employer had
identified as potential buyers.
When Todd had earlier told me of his summer job, I voiced
some skepticism. "Why would they hire you?," I asked. His
response: "I'm here; I'm cheap; and I must measure to industry
standards. I quite honestly don't really know; but who cares, and
who's asking? It pays well and the hours are great ... and the work,
well, the work's fun."
Despite my continuing doubts about his employers and their
motives, I could see the cogency of his points. Besides he was quite
good looking, and even more so, I imagine, sporting his new
employer's new products. I'd not actually ever seen Todd so clad
(read "unclad"), but sometimes the imagination produces a more
stimulating effect that reality.
As a "boy watcher" from way back, it had been hard for me
not to fantasize about Todd - fantasies which were refreshed and
revised every time we got together. On those rare occasions when
we found ourselves naked at the same time and in the same place -
like showers after phys. ed., I'd adopted a studied nonchalance to
avoid detection as being what I was. Against this background ...
"OK," I finally agreed, but with only feigned reluctance since
I was now genuinely turned on by prospect of subbing for Todd that
night. I was imagining myself strutting out in front of the "buyers"
in an assortment of briefs, really sort of hoping that their interest
would be unevenly divided between commercial interests and
interest in my now aroused male body.
"Great. Nothing to it, either," he said handing me a card.
"Just show up at this address about nine tonight. I'll let Martin
know you'll be coming."
Was it my imagination or did we both pick up on the double
meaning of his parting remark? And I hadn't even asked who
Martin was, what exactly I was expected to model, how much I
would be paid, who else (if anyone) I would be working with, or
what kind of a group the "potential buyers" might be. I figured that
I'd just have to show up and find out.
I was mindful enough to shower and shave first. I showed up
precisely at 7 o-clock at Martin's place - which turned out to be a
restored Victorian in the older part of town - ready for work. In
any event, how bad could it be? Surely the buyers would tire after
an hour or so if their only interest was in corporate profits. And if
their interests were on other things, well....
"Hi, Neil," Martin greeted me at the door. "Todd is inside
getting ready. I persuaded him to reschedule his other
commitments tonight and work with you. It turns out we have
twelve buyers with us tonight from out of town, and a larger, and
newer, product line to display than I'd planned for. We needed the
extra help, and it just worked out that Todd had lined you up."
Well, how about that. He never called to tell me either.
"No prob," I responded. "What do I do?"
Martin walked me through the large foyer of the old
Victorian house to a dressing room in the rear; but to my left I
caught my first glimpse of the twelve buyers - all young women of
varying physical specifications, all milling around a one foot high
rambling wooden walkway, which I took to be my evening's
workplace, all with glasses in hand. I guess I'd assumed the buyers
would be men. But then did it really matter? Probably not, unless
perhaps I should contract a chronic case of erectionitis before the
buyers, thereby making a mockery of my temporary employer's
product line, not to mention putting my night's pay in jeopardy!
"Hi, Neil," Todd greeted me as I entered the room. "Sorry I
didn't get to you about the change in plan. It was very last-minute."
"Here's the stuff for tonight," Martin interrupted, pointing to
several unopened boxes on the table. "Since I haven't worked with
you before, Neil, I'll leave it to Todd to divide up the display items
between you. Neil assures me that your "equipment," shall we say,
is very much as able to bring out the best of the product line as his
own. Martin looked at Todd, then at me, then grinned ... then
moved over to the table covered with partly opened boxes of men's
underwear.
Just how Todd knew anything about "my equipment" remains
a mystery to be explained."
"I guess so," I muttered to Martin, who was now, with Todd,
turning his full attention to the underwear that he drew from the
first box. Together they pulled out a dozen or so briefs of various
styles, colors and fabrics, ranging from full white cotton Calvin
Klein-types to low-rise nylon bikinis. They look much like what I'd
been buying for years, I thought, prompting me to wonder what
these buyers could possibly find in them - other than Todd and me,
of course - warranting either their employers' capital or interest.
"I'll be in and out to let you know what they want to see. That
very much matters tonight, as Todd has probably already explained
to you. I've more or less given our guests an overview of tonight's
product line, including the introduction of our new 'Sheath-Brief.'
And Neil, I assume that Todd has also explained to you about the
sheath? It'll be our final display item, and most of our guests are
only here to see that and little else. It's our newest product, and
this will be its unveiling, so to speak. So we'll show them our
regular line for about an hour or so, then move into the sheath ...
or that is to say, you two will" He chuckled at his cleverness,
grinned again, and left to be with his charges in the voyeur's
gallery.
I looked at Todd quizzically: "The sheath? Want to fill me
in,? It seems that there's been a lot of assuming about what I've
been told about tonight's show. I'm beginning to think I've been
set up. Care to explain, Todd?"
"Hey, guy, you're gonna get paid well for a couple of hours of
- admit it - interesting work, prancing up and down in front of
twelve gawking female types whose sole interest in being here is to
study the fine details of your crotch stuffed into our employers
stuff. Hey, it could be worse, no?"
He had a point, of course. In fact, several points.
"I still prefer to be brought in on the plans in advance, rather
than discover them as they happen," I said. "Start by telling me
about the 'sheath-brief,' that appears to be the cherry on tonight's
cake."
Todd hesitated, then pulled from one of the boxes several
items of various materials (and not much material at that!).
Putting the sheath-briefs on the table, he said: "These are designed
along the lines of something worn aeons ago by some indian tribe.
Our employer feels there could be a market for them, particularly
among gay men and horny women.
As you can see, the rear of the sheath-brief is designed
something like a regular low-rise brief, but some come in the style
of the string bikini. In the front, instead of a pouch, they have a
sheath - thus the name."
He held up one such product, which couldn't have set our
employer back much for raw material costs. It was hard at first
glance to see how the damn thing actually worked; but with a little
attention to detail, it was soon clear enough.
The "material" part of the sheath-brief had, at the back,
much of the traditional design of the low rise; but there the
comparison ended. From about the perineum forward and up-ward
it looked more like a cloth sausage open at the bottom and closed
at the top where it connected to the thin waist band. It rather
resembled a large cloth condom which was wide enough at the
bottom to enclose (by a cloth covered elastic element) the entire
scrotum, much in the manner of an ordinary cock ring. The tip of
the sheath was held in a permanent "up" position by a small
connector string, or cord, which held the tip to the front of the
waist band near the belly.
It was abundantly clear that wearing it positioned the penis
up and out, and held in the erect position, but pulled back toward
the pubic bone. The overall net effect was to cover just the
genitals, mimic the geography of an erection, but cover literally
nothing else including the full pubic region.
The other models Todd pulled out differed in details but all
shared this common design feature. Some were white cotton, some
nylon, some a stretch fabric of indeterminate type; some had a
little more and some a little less material; some were finished off
in back with material like the low-rise, and some were in the style
of the string bikini.
All were sheath-briefs. And picturing myself sporting any
one of them was enough to cause me to sport an immediate
erection as well. That I could quickly see would be my professional
hazard for the evening.
"Hey, you didn't tell me I'd be modelling next to nothing in
front of twelve, potentially horny females."
Todd had no answer. "Well, you may actually have a good
time, Neil. And besides, there's something else didn't tell you. For
tonight's show our employer is giving us a "hazardous duty bonus,"
he said sheepishly. He paused, then said: "Let's talk about it later.
Right now, we have these early models to run by the buyers. Come
on, let's go."
Hazardous duty? As a poor student, I was never averse to
making a little extra money. But how much money, and for exactly
what "hazards?" Those words lolled around my brain for the next
hour or so, as Todd and I slipped in and out of our dressing room,
and in and out of an assortment of briefs which, as the night went
on, got briefer and briefer. At first I didn't know how to move
about among our guests, but quickly followed Todd's manner of
slipping in and out of the tables where our guest were seated,
rather than staying on the walkway.
Martin was diligent in seeing that the buyers' glasses were
kept filled. And with something alcoholic, judging from the way in
which our guests come to be more involved and more "friendly"
with Todd and me.
From time to time, Todd would slowly spin around his lower
torso around directly in front of each guest, in his own
up-close-and-personal way of displaying our employer's product,
clearly recognizing the buyer's greater interest in his own
well-filled pouch.
From time to time, a "buyer" would want to test the strength
of the waist band or feel the fabric; but as the night went on, the
places where there was fabric to be felt decreased at approximately
the same rate as the boldness of the buyers increased.
By 10:15, I'd actually become accustomed to having my butt
and my crotch fondled in the interests of commercial science, and
in a collective indulgence to the fiction of their business purpose
for being there in the first place.
Both Todd and I were apparently able to maintain modestly
engorged cocks short of full-blown erections, highly suitable for
showing off the best of the product and its user-pro tem. But we
were both somehow able to suppress full erections which would
make fair modelling of the product impossible.
"So far, no hazards," I ventured. "No, not yet, Neil," he
responded with a curious grin. "But Martin has just given us the
signal to move on to the sheath-briefs. I guess our merchant ladies
have been primed well enough for the kill. I'll go first."
I watched as he slipped a white cotton sheath-brief up over
his knees. The back side of the sheath-brief slipped up over his
firm buttocks, as the front of the waist band came up to his belly.
Skillfully he pulled the sheath forward and down, slipping his penis
into the sheath, and pulling the bottom of the sheath down around
his scrotum. The installation was complete. His genitals were fully
covered, the inside bottom of the sheath snugly wrapped around the
base of his cock and scrotum but revealing his entire pubic region.
The tip of the sheath, now housing the tip of my friend's
unrestrained erection, lay like a huge, cloth covered sausage resting
against his pubic bone and kept in place by the waist band.
The genius of the indian tribe that came up with the design
was that if its user didn't have an erection when he put one, he
would immediately thereafter. Todd was certainly no exception to
the Indian's rule.
"It's supposed to work this way," he said, as his swelling
manhood filled out the full length of the cotton sausage into which
it had been plugged. I could see the tip of his cock pressing up
inside the top of the sheath, which was bent back at the top where
it was connected to the front of the waist band. "Some of the ones
we wear later," he said, "have a small stretch cord from the tip of
the sheath back to the front of the waist band, permitting its fully
erect contents full range to erect upwards and outward at more or
less a 45 degree angle."
My mind was reeling at what we were about to do; and I had
just lost any chance of keeping a full blown erection down. And
judging from Todd's last remark and the behavior of his cock, I'd
day we had reached the point in the evening's festivities where now
having a full-blown erection was exactly what would display our
employer's product best.
As Todd went out, I heard a number of un-buyer-like
whistles, and a general elevation of the noise level in the viewing
room. Todd's movements tracked those of earlier, but now little
attention was given to the fabric covering his butt. I could also
notice distinct increase in the testing of the elastic elements, and
the softness of the sheath material at its various parts of interest,
which by design meant only cock and scrotum.
One buyer - whose glass had been filled with somewhat
greater frequency that the others - actually announced that she was
fearful that the product might pick up static electricity if made of
cotton, and began to stroke up and down the outside of the sheath
(with Todd's cock inside it) to see if a static electrical discharge
would result. Someone told her to stop lest there be a discharge of
another sort to contend with. She reluctantly complied but
reluctantly, announcing triumphantly that the product was
electrically safe, and that future users would not be electrocuted by
wearing it. Her associates hooted their relief and gratification. My
friend stood firm during the test, showing no obvious discomfort or
impulse to move on.
It was my turn, and it was time to test nylon. Emboldened by
the prior display, no fewer than three buyers simultaneously
performed all necessary manual testings of the product I wore. I
found myself not moving around as much as the buyers, whose
hands were stroking my scant garment (and my now rigid
equipment beneath) with an intensity that prompted Martin to offer
refills and to direct me to my next brief. Martin no doubt equated
my premature discharge with the end of his show, and needed me
for later products.
I withdrew just as Todd emerged in a string bikini style
sheath-brief, his now fully erect penis stretching the sheath to it
upper-outer limit, and held back toward his belly by a two inch long
stretch cord. His buttocks were now fully exposed, except for the
barely discernable line of fabric than ran from the base of the
sheath-brief, under his perineum, up his butt-crack, and connect to
the rear of the waist band.
More hoots. More hollers. I was beginning to think that I
was about to earn my hazardous duty bonus. I did not watch the
testing techniques invented by our buyers to put Todd's model
through its paces, knowing that I would be next with a product no
doubt offering our guests even less to test.
I was right. My next item was styled like the one Todd wore,
but was made of thin, virtually transparent, netting material which
made every ripple on my cock and every hair on my scrotum visible
through the material. It also had the elastic extender permitting
my now huge member to adopt its almost natural 45-degree salute
up and out several inches from my belly.
The testing of this product included a full finger testing of
the scrotum ring to make sure it wouldn't stop the circulation of
those who bought it from the company later. Their sensitivity to
their employer's product liability was - literally - touching. After a
few pulls of the sheath down in front to test the tensile strength of
the top cord, my run was complete and I withdrew to where Martin
and Todd were discussing our next moves.
It seems that the final models had tiny flys just below the tip
of the sheath, so as to permit its owner to slip his penis out for all
usual purposes and motives. We were to model two such products;
and the buyers had indicated to Martin that they wished to compare
the ease with which the flys of both models worked. We were to
proceed together this time, and to permit simultaneous side-by-side
comparison testing of both sheath-briefs.
We walked to where the buyers awaited us, moving sensitively
into the position Martin suggested for an adequate simultaneous
testing of both products. The buyers had in our absence
determined that two of their number only would perform all
necessary tests. They moved into position and began manipulating
the front of our sheaths so that our cocks sprung out of the little
flys, up, out, and freely throbbing in mid air! Hoots. Hollers.
"Now we have to make sure that you can stuff your body back
into the sheath easily," one said, and began trying to stuff my fully
engorged cock back in through the tiny fly - without, I must say,
much success, not having lived a full lifetime as a male. I came to
her assistance and completed the insertion, and the sheath again
took up its salute posture. Todd's handler had succeeded on her
own, and she was quite pleased with herself. The others hooted
their concurrence.
That test was over, and Todd's sheath-brief won the contest.
As we withdrew Martin now announced that we were about to
earn our night's bonus. The buyers wanted to see the effects of an
ejaculation while wearing the sheath-brief, since it was - in their
studied opinion - likely that the ultimate buyers may on occasion
experience such an incident. Moreover, out of delicacy, they
declined to perform this test on their own, but insisted that Todd
and I assist each other in the testing.
Two tests were planned, and - for reasons know best and only
to themselves - one test was to be self-induced masturbation, and
the other was to be masturbation at the hand of another. Since
they felt it might be awkward for Todd and I to determine which, a
coin was to be tossed. It is still not entirely clear to me who won
and who lost; but in any event, we presented ourselves for our final
performance of the evening. The coin announced that Todd's
model would first be used to demonstrate the effect of
masturbation through the sheath at the hand of another to the
point of ejaculation. Martin made some comment on his product's
design capacity to absorb semen, and the ease with which semen
stains could be removed.
Todd was positioned in front of our twelve inspectors. I was
positioned behind him, and told to proceed at will in any manner
nature moved me.
I figured I would earn my bonus by making this good for
Todd as well as the voyeur-buyers. Slowly, softly, I moved my
palms around Todd's hips till my fingers locked together on his
pubic patch. For several minutes I gently massaged his patch with
my left hand, and gradually drew my right hand under the base of
the sheath-brief where it cupped Todd's scrotum. I kneaded his
balls, pulling his scrotum up so as to make his rigid cock vibrate
back and forth in the sheath-brief, his swollen glans pressing hard
against its inner top.
Gradually I slipped my right hand up the front of Todd's
sheath-brief, and began to stroke my friend's penis, now moving my
left hand under his balls for resonance. Moving in on the kill, I
stroked up and down the full length of the sheath, slowly, softly,
noticing as I did so the intense and quiet attention that the
movements of my hands and the involuntary movements in Todd's
body drew from our audience.
With a building crescendo of genital throbbing, I could sense
that the test was rapidly coming to its peaking and inevitable
climax. Todd's now fully aroused maleness caused his whole body
begin to shake. His cock began to throb visibly through the sheath,
and his whole lower body started to jerk back and forth. The
sheath itself was slipping up and down between the fingers of my
right hand, until the final and convulsive eruption of Todd's full
load of semen pressed through the tip of the sheath-brief like fresh
grapes through a mill in the making of wine.
My friend's jerking spasms continued for a bit, but then
subsided. His sticky white male juice seeped through the top and
sides of the now adequately tested sheath-brief, leaving several
inches or so of slippery, cum-wet product for the buyers to feel,
squeeze, assess.
My fingers were wet with Todd's sperm. I rubbed around the
tip of the sheath above his glans, to make as much of his boy-cream
ooze through the sheath-brief for their final inspection. I could tell
they were aroused almost to the point of climax at what I had just
done with my friend's body. I pushed my points even higher by
slipping my sticky cum-wet fingers into my mouth. Several moans
from our guests now joined those which Todd had uttered. All of
them, without exception I believe, reached out to stroke up and
down the wet length of Todd's sheath, into which my friend had just
ejaculated (with my capable assistance) a week's supply of his cum.
I have no idea how their final assessment of Todd's
sheath-brief went.
Todd sat down. It was my turn to show how the sheath-brief
I was wearing would stand up - excellent verb choice - to a good,
old-fashioned, self-induced masturbatory hand-job.
One of the buyers asked if I would lie down on the large
coffee table around which they had gathered, and from which they
had now removed their empty glasses. I was happy to
accommodate.
From this position, and surrounded by our twelve eager
potential buyers of the product, I began the hazardous duty for
which I was to be so liberally paid for being so liberally laid. In
this position, with my legs spread-eagled on the table, my lower
legs hanging off the coffee table, I began to masturbate slowly
through the sheath. I first began to massage all around the suburbs
of my genital business district, gradually moving in on downtown
itself.
As I stroked myself through the sheath, I invited the eager
hands of our potential buyers to play supporting roles by stroking
the insides of my thighs, my nipples, my temples, my belly, and any
available part of my aroused male body other than my penis. My
penis, let there be n doubt, was my exclusive field of operations.
The sheath-brief held up as admirably as my encased penis as
I stroked up and down, building to the climax I was sure would
happen soon. At the onset of the first ripple of my orgasm, I
quickly slipped open the tiny fly of the sheath-brief, exposing the
full length of my throbbing shaft, which was now wavering
convulsively. A brief moment of stillness - then a veritable
Vesuvius of semen erupted from the head of my cock, into the air,
on my belly, even hitting me on the chin. Spasm after spasm kept
on yielding up more long white ropes of my sperm, till finally I
looked like I was had just taken as shower in a waterfall of cum.
Being hard for a couple of hours without release had produced an
awesome supply of semen.
Spent, I lay there, exhausted, looking over to Todd whose
hardness had magically returned, coaxed along by my arousing
performance. Almost oblivious to our guests, he reached over and
massaged my spent body with the satin boy-cream that I had
ejaculated moments ago in the sole interests of commercial science.
For several minutes the buyers caucused to discuss their
findings and to reinforce each others determinations of whether
their employers could find a market for the products Todd and I
have given our all for. Martin handed Todd and me a drink, and
accompanied us back to the dressing room.
"I'm afraid you may have to make change out of your
hazardous duty bonus," he said. Both Todd and I looked at each
other then back to Martin.
"Care to explain, Martin?" Todd said.
"Well, our guests would like you to model one of our more
successful older products. Here, let me show you." He handed to
each of us a pair of white cotton briefs that looked so ordinary that
at first we were more confused than before. On closer inspection,
however, their distinguishing feature was apparent to us both.
These briefs, which had no fly as such, had instead a change pouch
in front with a horizontal slit through which coins could be put and
withdrawn. The money pocket was large enough for a single hand
to slip and move around.
"This model has been popular at strip bars," explained
Martin. "In any event," he continue, "our guests want to thank you
personally for performing so well, but may wish to make charge, if
you get my drift."
After the sheath-brief, putting on these change briefs felt
like getting into an overcoat. Before returning to his charges,
Martin with a curious smile came over and gently inserted several
dollars in mixed change into our purses ... "just to start you off for
making change." Cupping and patting our scrota with the
contentment of a job well done, he withdrew to his duties.
We moved back out and among the guests, our now flaccid
peni well cloaked behind the white cotton cash bags. Martin had
paved the way for us by inviting his charges to show whatever
generosity they were motivated to do. A polite scrambling in purses
and pockets yielded a queue of grateful tippers, the first with a
twenty dollar bill who announced gleefully to her companions that
she wanted to give a $18.73 tip. She went up to Todd, slipped in
the twenty, and inserted her hand in his chance pouch to grouse
around for the right change. Whether she found it or not I can't
rightly say; but she was urged to move on by those behind her in
the queue. The scene repeated for both of us, with a variety of tips
and an assortment of change requirements.
The technique which proved most effective for our tippers
was to perform the entire operation from behind, arms wrapped
around our respective waists, and the action center of the tip open
to view by those waiting to be served.
My friend and I didn't make finding loose change easier by
once again having achieved full-flowered tumescence. But it was
obvious that our tippers didn't mind the extra burden.
Two of our guests announced that their intention to conduct
the entire tipping operation without benefit of hands, and
proceeded to transport twenty-dollar bills in their teeth to our
respective pouches. They then proceeded to hunt for the right
change by depositing their faces and tongues at our crotches,
rooting around with their noses and tongues to locate in search of
the right change to slide up and out of our brief banks.
It didn't take much tonguing of my crotch to make the whole
front of my briefs wet with saliva from without, and from within by
my own precum. This of course had the benefit of making
identification and abstraction of coins a bit easier. With her near
success in bringing up a quarter, my tipper's mouth discovered that
portion of my bulging briefs which covered my cockhead. She
immediately let the quarter drop, and shifted her attentions to the
throbbing tip of my penis, sucking it passionately through saturated
white cotton. There were murmuring echoes of approval from
those behind her. I joined in the spirit of the moment by gyrating
my hips and pelvis in a physical accompaniment.
I could only last a short while, before those familiar
contractions began to build in the wellspring of male sexual
pleasure lying in that mysterious somewhere between my anus,
perineum, and prostate. I permitted those intensifying stirrings
deep inside my aroused male body to build to their inexorable
fulfillment. My torso began to jerk in orgasmic spasms as my
sperm gun shot out my freshly-made supply of my boy-cream. My
tipper moaned her approval, sucking out of my wet briefs all the
cum should could find. Forgetting the quarter, she withdrew to the
collective applause of her peers.
The young lady trying the same approach on Todd apparently
met with less success, and Todd - although fully erect - could hold
on with more confidence. In any event, several of the buyers, una
voce, urged me to show her how it should be done. I was physically
guided to where my face was placed in the position of honor in
front of my friends crotch. I was more than accommodating to this
turn of events, now being drawn to the mind-blowing beauty of my
friend's aroused genitals.
In the spirit of the of the evening, but more significantly in
response to the irrepressible urgings of my own body, I proceeded
to "find a quarter" in Todd's pouch.
I'd come to suspect that Todd's sexual preferences also ran in
the direction of male/male sex, but I had no proof - until now.
From the moment my tongue began to root under his scrotum for a
coin I could tell that his level of arousal went up a notch or two. I
could feel his rigid dick throbbing against my cheek, and as I
manoeuvered a coin up along the engorged length of his erect
penis. I could sense the enormity of sexual response in his aroused
body to my face and tongue.
Letting the coin "accidentally" drop back into the pouch from
near success, I shifted the target of my mouth to my friend's
swollen dickhead and began to suck it in earnest through the white
cotton briefs. He rocked back and forth joining me in a finely
choreographed sexual duet.
Unable to sustain this intense level of arousal long, Todd
yielded to temptation, and pulled his cock up through the waist
band of his briefs, while I turned around facing the tippers and
moved my under his scrotum to began tongue-massaging his
perineum above the white cotton. Together we performed our
sexual finale. Spurts and spurts of my friend's fresh male fluids
burst out of his throbbing penis, in long white ropes extending
down to my own belly - all to the hoots and hollers of our grateful
audience.
By this time, Todd and I had shifted into our own separate,
sexual universe, in an obvious preference for each other's bodies
than for the buyers or their tips.
By time we had once again become aware of where we were,
the buyers had already left. The products - at least the dry ones -
had been re-boxed and carted off. Martin had gone off, leaving
Todd and me to share our curtain call alone. To this day I don't
know whether the products passed muster, Todd for the record
book having demonstrated that the sheath material can absorb both
the rub and the load, and I that its user can quickly and efficiently
access its fly in the hour of need.
Todd and I slipped back into our street clothes and prepared
to leave. We looked at each other, and smiled. And we left.
Oddly, neither of us thought to collect our pay till the
following day. The tips were modest. The memories of that night
were not.
1995, Aristos
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