CHUCK (pt. 1 of a same-sex story) Sometimes I feel like I live in Wal-Mart. I'm always there picking up odds and ends, whether I really need them or not. A couple of nights ago I was there to have some keys made, and could not find anyone on the floor to help me, inspite of the fact that the store was practically empty. I walked around for what seemed like an eternity before I finally spotted someone...him. His name is Chuck, but we'll get to that in a second. His royal blue shirt (part of the Wal-Mart uniform) was half tucked into form-fitting, khaki pants. The first thing that caught my eye about him was his physique. He's at least 6'1", maybe 6'2", and sturdily built. He was several feet away at the end of the isle and walking away from me, and I couldn't help but stare at his beefy ass as he went. I yelled a tepid "Hey," which he didn't seem to hear, because he kept going in the opposite direction. I hastened my steps a bit to catch up to him, and when I was within earshot of him, I said, "Excuse me. I was wondering if you could help me with something." He turned, and I just about lost control of my footing. Striking blue eyes and a gorgeous smile greeted me as he turned to acknowledge me. His hair, dark and thick, was slightly mussed from what I assumed had been a long day of work, and his face was covered with just the slightest bit of stubble. "How may I be of service?" he asked, his voice pentratingly deep yet animated and inviting. "I need a key made, and...I didn't see anyone back by the machine..." "Ahh, yes...the ever-empty key-grinding station. For some reason people just don't like to hang around that thing!" I was taken by his sense of humor, and even more taken by his burly chest that heaved as he spoke. Two or three buttons were undone on his shirt, and tufts of thick, dark hair peeked through. It was apparent he wasn't wearing an undershirt because his nipples were nearly ready to pierce through the cotton fabric. "Follow me." I followed him, alright. I watched every inch of his strong, strapping body as we made our way to the back of the store. He carefully tucked his shirt all the way in as he moved, which made the shape of his ass all the more visible. We approached the key-grinding machine and I could hardly remember what I was there for. "How many would you like made?" he asked. "Just two. You never know when you might need a spare." "True," he said. "I always get at least three keys made because I'm notorious in losing them." Just then he bent over to plug something up behind the machine, giving me a full-moon shot of his glorious ass, and I was beginning to think that he was trying to tell me a little something. He crouched even further on the floor, which made his ass go up even higher, and I suddenly felt my cock jump in my pants. "There," he said, exhaling as he stood back up. "Somebody left it unplugged. So, you said two, right?" "Uh...yeah...just two." I could feel my face turning red as I handed him the key. His hand, big and strong, touched a few of my fingers in the exchange, which made me blush even more. He was without a nametag, and I knew that I could not walk away without even knowing his name, but I just didn't know when or how to bring it up to ask him. He placed the key into the machine, hit a few buttons, and as it slowly hummed to life, he hopped up onto the counter beside it while we waited. I nearly gasped at the sight of his thick, muscular thighs straining against the tight khaki material of his pants, and a little further north revealed a solid, thick, round bulge. I knew I had to say something before the drool started to drip from my mouth. "Gee, the store's awfully empty for a Friday night, eh?" I said. "Thank goodness," he sighed. "I've spent the last eight hours on my feet and these dogs are barking. Say, didn't I see you in here the other day carting out some boxes or something?" 'Yes!' I thought to myself. He's seen me before, and better yet, remembers me! This would be the conduit for me in asking his name. "Probably," I said. "I'm in the process of moving, and a guy that works here gave me a bunch of boxes." "Moving? In all this heat? I know that must be hell, no pun intended." "Hell is right. You don't know how much stuff you have until you move. And what's worse, my apartment building's on a street that inclines." "Really? Where about do you live?" "Catontown, just down the road." Okay, he asked me where I live. A few more seconds and I will have his name, damnit. 'Ask him, ask him!' I was screaming to myself. "No kidding. That's where I live. Chesterfield Apartments." "Get out of here!" I'm in Chapel Hills, right across from Chesterfield." "Small world," he said. "Small indeed. Say, I don't think I caught your name." Phew, I asked...finally. Just then the machine stopped, and he hopped off of the counter and quickly grabbed the keys from it. He walked over to me and, while handing me my items, said, "Charles. But everybody calls me Chuck." "Okay, Chuck. So what's my damage?" "Shhh...," he said cheekily, putting a thick finger up to his lips. "It's on the house." "No, seriously..." "On the house. I know what moving's like, and, well, I feel like it'd be adding insult to injury if I charged you. Besides, with us being neighbors and all..." "Well, what can I say? Thank you so much." I was grinning ear to ear and so was Chuck, and, as we stood there in the nearly empty back of the air-conditioned store, I could feel a little heat brewing between me and the hunky Wal-Mart guy. "What time do you knock off?" I asked, slightly surprised at my bluntness. "Actually, I was just leaving about ten minutes ago." "You mean, I stopped you from leaving..." Suddenly Chuck burst into laughter, and said, "No worries! The longer I stay on the clock the more money I make...so..." "Well, since we're neighbors and all, how would you like a lift? Do you drive?" "As a matter of fact, I do. However, my car's in the shop, so I've been getting here on my trusty 10-speed. Just let me tie up a few odds and ends up front, and I'll meet you outside." "Sure thing. I'm in the dark blue Honda. I'll pull right up." Chuck walked ahead of me with a little spring in his step, and I was glad because if he had stayed a little longer he would've surely seen the full wood I was sporting.