Bear Hunt 2: Preyed Upon No More
Chapter 2
by
Hairy1
By
Friday morning, Brad finds himself a bit lonely. This surprises him,
as it wasn't all that long ago that he lived alone, and he has far
more to keep him occupied at the house than he did at the apartment.
It occurs to him that his friends have been asking him to go out to
the clubs with them for a while, something he hasn't done since he
has moved in with Robert. He decides to go for a bit, to hang out
and dance. He knows Robert won't mind, as he has been encouraging
him to keep up with his friends; Brad has just had no desire to go
bar hopping when he can come home to his man instead. He can picture
Robert tell him sternly that he may only have a drink or two at most,
as he will have to drive himself home. He calls his buddy Lee to see
what everyone is planning. It is decided that he will just stay in
the city and freshen up in the office's private dressing room and
shower after working a bit late, join Lee and a large group for
dinner, and then they will hit the bars at 9 or so when the action
picks up. He calls Robert and lets him know he is planning to go out
to dinner and see some friends, but won't be out too late. He does
indeed get that lecture he had visualized, before being told to
behave while he has fun.
Dinner
out is very pleasant, they choose a casual neighborhood place that is
reasonably priced and allows them to talk and joke as much as they
please. It is good to see his friends, and to meet some new guys as
well. As a whole, they would be called cubs, with none of them
dominant or aggressive, and Brad finds himself playing a much less
passive role than he ever had in the past, determining what
appetizers to order when no one can decide, telling a couple guys to
behave when they get into a silly argument. He doesn't realize this
until it has become time to leave, and the others look to him to
choose what bar to go to first.
"I
don't know guys, I haven't been out for a while and don't know what
is hot right now. You pick."
"C'mon
Brad, please. Everything is about the same."
Instead
of letting the discussion spin in circles, Brad thinks a moment and
decides that he has always liked the music and atmosphere at Grind,
and so they head there, everyone happy.
Grind
was exactly as Brad had remembered, crowded on a Friday night with a
variety of types of guys, playing loud music with a roomy dance
floor, and no smoke in the air. They managed to find a small table to
crowd around, and Brad sprang for the first round of drinks, choosing
diet coke for himself as he had indulged in a couple of rum and cokes
at dinner. After those arrive, the group split, some dancing, some
holding the table, others mingling and flirting.
Brad
found that he seemed to be getting more attention than he used to,
and casually flirted with several men, having his ass groped by a few
and dancing with some. He greatly enjoyed it, but found himself
realizing that while the attention was nice and the guys were hot and
friendly, he wasn't in the least interested in considering anything
more, and had to turn several offers down gently. A couple of his
friends did indeed find men they were interested in and bid an early
good night to the group.
He
worked up a bit of a sweat with his dance moves, though he was too
shy to remove his shirt as several guys suggested, and ended up
guzzling down his diet coke and then a second. After another round on
the dance floor, he found he had to excuse himself to hit the
restroom between all the fluids and the shaking of his behind.
Brad
sighed heavily at the urinal, relieving himself in a strong stream.
He heard the door to the restroom open and someone walk up next to
him. By the uneven sounds of the footsteps, it is obvious this guy
has had a bit much to drink. In his peripheral vision, Brad sees a
taller, lanky man with greasy blonde hair. He is clean shaven and
has a scar running down his cheek. His clothing is frayed and looks
none too clean. His sleeveless flannel shirt reveals several tattoos
on his upper arms along with more scars. As there are intentionally
no dividers between the urinals at Grind, he also sees a long thick
cock pulled out of the man's jeans, before the sound of another heavy
stream of piss joins his.
"Bet
ya'd rather be suckin' this monster instead of just lookin' at it,
boy" says the man with a noticeable slur.
"No,
really, that's ok" replies Brad, giving himself a couple shakes
before repositioning and zipping himself up.
"Yeah,
hide that little stuff back up, ya got a real man's cock ta play with
now" the guy says as he turns toward Brad, his stream tapering
off as he starts to stiffen.
"Thanks
but no thanks."
"If
ya don't wanna suck it, maybe ya want ta go over ta the stall and
have me shove it up yur ass. Is that it, ya chubby whore?"
"Look,
I told you no, and I mean no."
The
man reaches out to grab Brad's arm, but Brad sees it coming and takes
a step back. Feeling the situation starting to spin out of control,
Brad manages to quickly move around the man to the door and leave the
restroom. Walking towards his friends, he shudders and realized how
badly the man had given him the creeps.
"Hey
Brad, no action in the bathroom, huh? You ready for another round?"
"Nope,
none. As a matter of fact, seeing as we are all empty, why don't we
move across the street to Keys? I could use a break from dancing and
just sit at the piano bar."
Several
of Brad's friends agree, but some want to stay at Grind as they are
eying certain guys, and so the two groups part with hugs and promises
to get together soon. Brad and three others exit Grind and cross the
busy street, lost in conversation.
Keys
is almost as busy as Grind, but more subdued. The piano bar has room
in a booth for them, and the singing is very pleasant. Instead of
wild dancing, the dance floor is full of slow close movement. Lee
convinces Brad to have one more drink, and he consents to a sweet
fruity concoction with umbrellas that he knows Robert would roll his
eyes over, enjoying it immensely. Soon he discovers that he is
singing along with the piano man rather more loudly than he thought,
much to the amusement of his table mates, and switches over to
espresso. They spend an hour or so alternately listening to the
music, dancing as friends, and in light conversation. As the others
begin to mingle more, Brad decides it is time for him to head home.
Again hugs and promises to do this again are exchanged. The hugs are
very pleasant, not sexual but friendly, warm and comfortable.
Brad
walks out into the cool night air, finding it refreshing, ready for
the walk of a couple blocks to get back to his car. As he starts to
move down the street, he doesn't look into the adjacent alley,
doesn't see the shadowy figure begin to detach itself from the wall
where it has been leaning.
"Hey,
Brad, wait up" he hears Lee shout from Keys' entrance.
Turning,
he sees Lee and an older guy with a salt and pepper goatee hurrying
towards him.
"Brad,
do you remember Gary? He was the pool party last summer, I know you
met."
"Hi
Gary. I do remember you now. It's nice to see you."
"You
too Brad. Hope all's well."
With
a big smile, Lee mentions that Gary had spotted him just as Brad had
gotten up, and invited Lee to come back to his place for a night cap
instead of staying at the bar. "You want to come, Brad?"
"No,
I've had enough. And I figure you two want to be alone anyway."
"That's
true. We can all walk together to the cars though. I'm parked in the
same lot as you."
The
walk passes even more pleasantly with company, and the three stand
talking for several minutes at the parking lot before going their
separate ways.
********************************
Before
setting off, he sends Robert a quick text letting him know he is
headed for home, feeling that if midnight paintball is still going on
a phone call might be distracting. The car ride is uneventful, though
seeing multiple flashing lights as other cars are pulled over makes
Brad glad that he was careful with his drinking. Not that long ago,
when home was just a cab ride away, he would have drank himself
silly. He realized that he had actually had more fun with his
friends this way, was more relaxed and remembered the evening. It
helped that he was with actual friends who hadn't been pressuring him
about finding a guy for the evening, but who had asked with much
curiosity about Robert and their life together and been happy for
him. Traffic lightens as he leaves the city, though there is still
an occasional police cruiser off to the side of the road, and then
for a long while there isn't another car in sight except for one in
the distance behind him. After all the noise and lights of the
evening, he drives without music with the window down, enjoying the
fresh air and quiet.
Pulling
up to the gated drive, he punches in his code and slowly pulls
through, carefully resetting the gate once he has pulled through,
remembering his forgetfulness of the other day.
"Robert
would never let me live it down if I forgot again, especially after
going out."
He
pulls into the garage and gets out of the car. The entire security
panel shows a steady green, and he kicks off his shoes heading into
the house. He checks his phone to see that Robert has responded to
his text, confirming that he is playing paintball but almost done,
and to drive safely, he'll call later. Setting the phone on the
kitchen counter, he reaches up to grab a glass to fill with cold
water. Just then, he hears a sharp beeping noise, and glancing over,
sees that the security panel is now blinking red, signaling an alert
at the driveway gate. Walking over, he quickly types in the override
code, figuring he must have miskeyed something earlier, but to no
avail.
"Oh
damn, I was so smug, I must have drank more than I thought and bumped
the gate or something. I better go see what I did now."
So,
shoes off, he hurries out of the house and down the long drive
towards the gate, trees and darkness on either side as he gets
further from the house.
A
bit winded, he nears the gate, and just as it registers on him that
the chain link has been cut and pried open, a shape leaps from the
brush to his left and shoves him to the side. Before he can regain
his balance, a fist punches him hard in the shoulder, spinning him,
then with an uppercut another hits him square in the face, knocking
him flat on his back.
Struggling
to catch his breath, blood flowing freely from his nose, Brad blinks,
trying to clear his head, and sees the man from the restroom at Grind
standing over him, a wicked grin on his face.
"Not
so fulla yurself now, are ya, slut? What, I wasn't good enuff fer
ya?"
"Huh?
What ..."
"Fuck,
ya don't need to use that purty mouth to talk with. Clint's got what
we need ta fill that there mouth with" says the man as he
reaches to unzip his pants.
"No!"
"Yeah,
that's yur problem, ya think if ya talk ya have the right ta say no.
Well, let me tell ya now, slut, bottom boy whores like ya don't ever
tell a real man like me no. That just ain't right. Yur gonna pay fer
makin' me wait, slut, we're gonna tear that ass o' yurs wide open
after whippin' it raw."
The
Brad of just a year ago would have cringed and panicked. His mind
would have raced with worst case scenarios and he would have been
paralyzed with fear.
Clint
slowly and purposefully approaches the prone Brad, a sneer on his
face, the ruthless predator stalking his prey, knowing what he wants
is within easy reach.
Without
thinking, lying on his back on ground, Brad shifts from his back to
his right side and sweeps out with his left foot, catching his
assailant behind the right ankle and causing him to fall backwards.
Brad continues the roll and somehow ends up on his feet.
Clint
also rises and now lunges forward, even more enraged, his face red
with anger. Brad swings his right fist low and hard, which combines
with the Clint's forward momentum, the additional force jolting
Brad's arm as he connects, turning him sideways. He strikes Clint
right in the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him.
As
Clint is bent over gasping, Brad clasps his hands together, quickly
raises them over his head and then brings them down hard on his
opponent's back, driving him to the ground. Brad quickly places a
foot on the back of the guy's neck, pressing and holding him down,
making it harder for him to regain his breath.
Breathing
hard, tasting his own blood which still runs freely down his face,
Brad finally has time to think again, the events of the last few
moments finally catching up with him. But before he can even begin
to ponder what to do next, flashing red and blue lights approach
rapidly, and a police cruiser crunches to a rapid halt right outside
the gate.
"No
one move!" declares a loud deep voice as the car doors swing
open, and two officers emerge, one with his gun drawn, the other
swinging the spot light mounted on the outside of the car over onto
the two men.
Brad
slowly raises his hands in the air, panting, noticing a second squad
car several hundred feet down the road near a dark old car. Still
covered by the gun, Brad watches as the one officer walks over and
punches a code into the gate keypad, causing the fence to open
partway before jamming.
The
officers approach slowly, stating "This is the police. No one
move."
This
has given Clint enough time to partially regain his breath, and he
struggles to roll, but Brad just presses down harder with his foot,
pressing Clint's face into the gravel, those extra pounds serving a
good purpose now.
"Officers,
this man broke in, I live here, let me go to the house, and I can
prove it."
The
older officer, a large bearded man, obviously in charge, responds.
"No need for that. You must be Bradley. You look just like the
pictures Robert brought in when he notified us that you were co-owner
of the place and to update our security protocols."
"Sir,
he did what?"
"No
need to call me sir, I'm Sergeant Jones. And yes, Robert came in a
while back and informed us you had full rights in case the alarm went
off and alerted us. As a matter of fact, he told us exactly how
pissed he'd be if the alarm sounded and we didn't get our tails down
here within 5 minutes to make sure you were ok. Johnson, cuff the
guy on the ground."
As
Officer Johnson steps forward, placing a knee on Clint's back and
grabbing his arms to place handcuffs on him, Brad takes a step back.
"Now
officers, we was just havin' some fun. The fat boy here done invited
me over. Ain't that so, boy" slurs Clint, spitting gravel from
his mouth.
Just
then, Sergeant Jones' phone beeps, and another officer's voice sounds
over the speaker.
"Sarge,
the car back here matches the description of one that we were to
watch for, registered to one Clinton Gorsky, who jumped bond and is
wanted for assault and armed robbery. He lists as armed and
dangerous."
"Well,
now, Mr. Gorsky, I assume, seems to me we have some talking to do.
Those cutters right outside the gate don't lead me to think you
really had an invitation." Sergeant Jones says as he holsters
his gun.
"Sergeant,
he was certainly not invited. I'll be happy to make a statement."
"Thank
you Bradley. It would certainly help, even though the warrant
already out for him is enough. You don't have to press charges."
"I
think I do. Someone like this needs to be locked up. I won't back
away just to make it easier for myself, that would just lead to
someone else getting hurt."
Sergeant
Jones hands Brad a handkerchief to wipe his bloody face. "Thank
you, son, I can see why Robert is so taken with you."
After
Clint is dragged off, putting up a fight all the way to the second
squad car, Brad spends the next hour telling his complete story to
Sergeant Jones while Officer Johnson takes notes. He even insists on
a breathalyzer test after admitting to his few drinks earlier, the
results of which come out well under the legal limit. He wants there
to be no question that he is clear on all the facts. He tells them
that he will make sure that they are supplied with the raw data from
the security cameras, which will support the charges of trespass and
assault.
Finally,
Sergeant Jones stands up and offers his large beefy hand.
"Thank
you Bradley, you have been very helpful I'm sorry we had to meet like
this, and am glad you are alright. We will be in contact if we need
anything."
"Thank
you, Sergeant" Brad says, taking the offered hand.
"Son,
you are shaking all over, and it is still a warm night. I think the
shock of this all is hitting you. Will you be ok alone?"
"Sure,
I'll be fine, it was just all so fast, and telling it, I keep
thinking what if..."
Jones
throws a friendly arm around Brad's shoulders. "Son, look at me.
Off the record now, I'm going to tell you exactly what Robert would.
Stop thinking about what ifs, you can't change the past. And what
happened, you did exactly the right thing. You acted quickly and
decisively and took yourself out of danger. Each case is different,
it might not always be right to fight back, but you did well."
"But
what if I wasn't good enough..."
"The
point is, you were. You kept your head about you and handled the
situation. I didn't mention it before, but Gorsky also had a
switchblade on him, I don't doubt he planned to use it."
"A
knife?"
"Yes,
son, a knife. Things would have gone from bad to worse if you hadn't
acted."
"But..."
"No
buts about it, you did good, Bradley, and you should be proud of
yourself. Now go clean up and get some rest. Call if you need
anything."
And
with that, the Sergeant and Officer Johnson walk to their squad car
and head back to the station.
To
be continued …
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