I'd like to begin this new story with a note of gratitude to Rockhunter for all his diligent labor in making it readable. Thank, Rock.

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John

I'm not into small guys, Okay? I just want to make that perfectly clear before I proceed - we got that straight? Good. We'll just mark that one day up to temporarily insanity.

This is what happened while waiting in line to put in my order at the electrical wholesale supply... I discovered that I was fantasizing about this little dude in the other line. When I realized what I was doing, I couldn't believe that I was actually wondering what it would be like to hold him... snuggle him... wrap my big frame around him... protect him.

Ha! Like he needed protecting, he looked to be only about four foot three, but the way the little guy carried himself, he looked like he could well take care of himself... scrappy, you know what I mean? I tell you, looking at him was like looking at a big strong guy, like myself, through the wrong end of a telescope. He was perfectly proportioned. You get the picture?

Anyway, I'd made myself uncomfortable with my thoughts about him, so I turned to watch the man at the front of the line who was trying to convey to the Chinese fellow behind the counter what he wanted by speaking slowly, and loudly enunciating each word clearly as though he were speaking to a mentally deficient deaf person.

The Chinaman had his head cocked to the side looking like he thought the man was nuts. When the man quit talking, the little Chinaman grinned and said, "Solly, I no unastan," then he shoved a big chart that supposedly showed a picture of every item they carry across the counter to the man and said, "Show me, please"

Still red faced, looking like he might explode, the frustrated man stared at the Oriental a moment, then it was like he imploded, he shrank in on himself, lost his pomposity. He took the chart, studied it a moment, and then pointed at an item on the chart with a pleading look at the little Chinaman as though begging him to understand.

"Ahhh, dot one. How many, please?"

The man held up both hands, fingers spread. "TEN," he enunciated.

The Chinaman grinned and nodded his head vigorously as he said, "Yes, yes, I get now." He literally kowtowed as he backed away from the counter.

Probably every man in line had gone through the same thing their first time ordering here. There was a lot of chuckling, but the man ignored it.

Everyone else knew the drill and quickly placed their orders either by pointing at items on the chart or handing them a written order. I watched the little guy step up to the counter and study the chart, then shake his head and say, "It's only an eighth inch IPS nipple I want." His server shook his head and called another Chinaman over, and the little man said it again, only to see the men on the other side of the counter shake their heads.

The little man turned away from the desk in frustration and caught me watching him. He grimaced and walked towards me. Glossy black strands of stray hair fell across his forehead touching his eyelids. He brushed them away as he looked up at me and asked, "You wouldn't know where they keep 1/8 IPS nipples, do you?"

His voice, which I suppose I'd expected to be like a little boy's, was a warm baritone. It reverberated in my head and went straight to my cock. It took me a minute to register the question; I'd gotten lost in his eyes and then his sweet mouth that was asking the question. My cock gave a nod as I noticed the tuft of black hair that stuck out of the neck band of his T-shirt. I glanced down his front noting how his muscular pecs pushed his nubs against the thin material. I wanted to tell him that he already had two hot little nipples, but didn't think he'd find it amusing.

Even though I was next to be waited on, I didn't hesitate to step out of line, saying, "Ahh... ahh... sure, let me show you where." I'm sure I came off as a dunce.

As I walked down the aisle I could feel the little man's eyes on my butt. I was aware that the tight Wranglers I wore accented it, so... how could the fellow not be looking since my butt came almost up to his chest. I led him through the maze of aisles, between shelves stocked to the ceiling with electrical stuff, to a remote corner that had several stacks of small drawers. I knelt down on one knee and studied the tags on the drawer fronts. I could easily have just bent over, but for some foreign reason I didn't want to offend him. I could feel the heat from his body on my bare arm as he stood next to me while I was looking for the right drawer.

"If this wasn't an emergency," the little dude was saying, "I'd just wait until my order from American Lamp Parts arrives by UPS on Monday, but I promised a lady that I'd have her chandelier ready this afternoon."

"Let's see... somewhere in these drawers we should be able to find what you want. Ahh, eighth inch IPS. Right here. Yes, this is it," I said, as I pulled out the drawer. "What length do you need? When he leaned forward to pick out the length he wanted, his arm brushed my arm, but worse, his thighs pressed against my leg. I was getting very uncomfortable. Dammit! Why am I reacting this way to him? Like I said, I'm just not into little men.

He straightened up with the little tube in his hand and smiled at me. With me kneeling, we were eye to eye and I was immersed in the liquid depths of his 'oh so blue' eyes. I wanted to taste his smiling lips.

"Thanks for your help," he said and stuck out his hand. I glanced at it, noting that it may have been small, but it was definitely a man's hand; the fine black hair that was abundant on his forearm fanned out across the back of it with tufts on the first knuckles. As I enveloped his hand in mine, I again glanced into his eyes. Then I felt the calluses on his fingers and palm, and my heart rate increased... a man that works with his hands. I had to say something, so I asked, "Did you need anything else?" The little fellow was staring at my bicep. I involuntarily flexed the big muscle and his eyes startled and got big as he glanced red-faced at me.

"You asked something?" he asked.

I stared into his big blue eyes and said, "Yeah, what's your name? I'm John Reed." I held out my hand. "Some of my friends call me Tiny." I could feel the heat rising in my face. Wondering why I had told him that since no one had called me that since I left the Corps.

I watched him look at my big ham of a hand in which his was lost, then his eyes traveled up my arm to my bicep that was as big around as his thigh, and on up to look me in the eyes as he asked, "For any reason, except that you're anything but?"

I had to chuckle at his forwardness. "No, no other reason."

"I'm Frank," he said.

I couldn't resist the pun. "You certainly are."

This time, he blushed, and that turned me on even more, adding to my discomfort.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I seem to always say what I'm thinking,"

"That's cool, but doesn't that get you into trouble?" I asked.

"It did a bit when I was a kid. However, I quickly learned that there is a distinct advantage to being down close to the bully's family jewels. It's difficult to bully someone while using both hands to protect them. I got a reputation for attacking bullies and they let me be. Of course I had a couple of big brothers to back me up."

I chuckled envisioning this feisty little man taking on a big bully.

"By the way... thanks for coming down to my level," he added.

I glanced into his smiling eyes and quickly looked away. "Think nothing of it," I said, then cleared my throat and stood up. I immediately knew that was a mistake. I was sporting some major leaking wood. The difference in our height put my crotch nearly in his face.

I glanced down at his pants front, surprised at the size of the shaft running down the left pant leg of his Levi's. When I looked up at him, he grinned insolently at me. I had to get out of there. I stuck my hand in my pocket to hide my state of excitement and simply fled. I'd have to come back for my order later. Like I said, I'm not into small guys.

Frank

Wondering what had just happened; I just stood there in that corner and watched that big beautiful man hurry away from me. At the same time, I couldn't help but admire those two tight hard melons jostling each other in his tight fitting Wrangler's. He was definitely not wearing underwear.

At first, I thought that seeing I had a hardon might have put him off, but then he'd stood up and nearly knocked me over with that big tent in his pants. I must have turned him on from the big wet spot on the front on his jeans.

Gathering my wits, I found my way back to the order desk. John Reed was nowhere to be seen. I presented my little threaded nipple to a man behind the desk and was directed to the cashier in her little glassed in cage. I gave her thirty five cents, and she gave me a sneer - for buying so little, I supposed. It didn't matter, since I wouldn't be back there except in another emergency.

Back in my little shop, I absentmindedly finished attaching the last chandelier arm back onto its central spider using the nipple I'd just purchased and then wired all six arms into the stem. After I'd put bulbs in the sockets and tied a tail with a plug on it to the wires that would go into the ceiling connection, I plugged it into a receptacle. I was glad I'd checked it; one bulb didn't light up. I double checked the bulb to make sure it was good, and then dismantled the stem to recheck the connections.

Yep, one of the wires from that arm wasn't tied in. I quickly added it to the connection, put the stem back together and checked it again. It lit this time. With a sigh, I placed the chandelier on the counter ready for Miki Worth to pickup. It was Saturday; she's my only client I'd do work for on Saturday, but then she's willing to pay for it without bitching about the charges.

I thought about earlier watching John Reed who was being amused watching a man having difficulties giving his order to the oriental behind the counter. I've always fantasized about big men, but when it comes down to real life, I've always picked someone close to my own size. I liked the gentle look of this big man. His size... gee, he had to be at least six seven, but what really thrilled me as I'd studied the man was that he was proportionately built with wide shoulders, narrow hips, muscled chest, flat stomach and long sinewy legs. He was perfectly big where I was perfectly little. After seeing the tent in his pants before he fled, I figured we were about the same size in the cock department. But I was aware that mine looked so much bigger because I'm so small.

I've been doing work for Miki Worth for several years. One could say that she's my best customer. She's an interior designer, much in demand. I'd never think of calling her a 'decorator'. I have several of those as clients, too. I always get the feeling they're just frustrated housewives that need something to keep them occupied, so they 'decorate' other people's homes.

She'd said she would do a pick up at 2:30. It was only 2:07, so I puttered around rewiring a pair of '20's sconces that I'd purchased at the Alameda Swap meet last Sunday. I couldn't get the image of Tiny... no, he's not my friend, so I'll not call him that. He's John Reed. I couldn't get the image out of my mind of John kneeling next to me, smiling as he looked directly into my eyes. His warm chocolate eyes... God, I could have stared into them for an eternity. Then I thought about that last look, when he stood up. I couldn't figure it out.... confusion? Maybe. I didn't know what that look had meant, but it certainly left me confused.

I'm a top. It's not that I don't like receiving, I've bottomed, and enjoyed it, but not for any man more than a few inches taller than me. I don't like the assumption that big men seem to make about men my size. With their attitude, there is no way I would raise my legs for one of them. But John.... now he's something else. When he knelt down to look at the drawer labels instead of just stooping like most tall guys would do... well... I can envision giving myself to him. The thought of him enfolding me in his arms and cuddling up. Damn, Miki Worth was due through the door at any moment; I had to think of something else. Only once has she ever been late, and she'd called that time. She would most likely be right on time today.

I laid down the sconce I'd been fiddling with, wandered over to the front counter and rested my elbows on the counter top, and cupped my chin in my hands. I liked John's hair cut... an overgrown Marine high and tight. The longer hair on top of his head looked so soft. It was a dark blonde, almost golden brown, with a slight curl to it. I dreamed of running my finger through it... I then imaged what it would feel like to let him brush the sides of his head up the inside of my thighs.

I saw Miki's bright red utility van pull up in front of my store. Her white logo painted on the side of it read: 'Miki's Design Service.' I envisioned her driving a long sleek black Jag convertible but she looked right at home in this little red Dodge van. I straightened up and adjusted things down below to look respectable, and with a smile, greeted the elegant woman as she came through the door. She was dressed in an ecru trouser suit, a brilliant blue blouse opened at the neck, and wearing two inch heels. She looked like she'd just stepped off a model's runway.

"Frank, my dear, thank you for waiting for me. I wish everyone would be as accommodating as you.," she said with a big sweet smile.

If I were straight and at least a foot taller, I would woo this woman. But since I'm only four foot three and not straight, I simply smiled back at her. I processed her Visa card and then carried the chandelier out to her van.

As I watched her drive away, a vision of John's big bicep, with a tattoo of a vicious bulldog leaping toward me, filled my thoughts. I think his bulldog's the Marine mascot. I'd dreamed as a young boy of becoming a big bad-ass Marine, but I'd not grown tall enough to be accepted. That was probably my biggest disappointment in life.

Oh well, I became one tough little shit anyway. After years of training in karate and other hand to hand combat martial arts, no one fucks around with me... well, not more than once. I've had to put several big fuckers flat on their faces where they'd suddenly find the sole of my boot resting on their necks. It amazes me how many big men don't understand that 'NO' means no.

Unfortunately, defending myself has given me a reputation. Especially, after last year when a big, small-brained brute, named Robertson, decided that maybe I didn't really mean 'NO'. He couldn't comprehend that I could lay him out, totally unconscious. I finally had to. Even then, a couple of weeks later, he surprised me by grabbing me from the back. Stupid man didn't realize that elbows and heels can be so effective in an unequal fight.

Unfortunately, my picture was on the front of the Chronicle the next morning with a headline of "A Modern Day David and Goliath." I still haven't figured out what the hell a reporter with a camera was doing in a gay leather bar. But still, it didn't stop the lummox. He somehow got hold of my home phone number and started making threats over the phone. I finally had to get a court order for the stupid brute to stay away from me and leave me alone. I suspect that he liked being humiliated. God knows that after his last attack, I left him sorely bruised.

It's not like I go around attacking big guys; I simply refuse to let them bully or razz me because of my size. Anyway, after that 'so well publicized' incident, I find it difficult to attract the kind of guys I like. I wondered if John had suddenly realized who I am, and that was why he fled.

With a sigh, I forced all thoughts of John out of my mind and closed up my shop. I looked around at my darkened little store with the ten chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and decided it was time to start looking for a bigger place. I make a good living here, but with the refurbished light fixtures I have stored away I could stock a store three times this big. I liked the idea and decided it was time to buy another building and do it up right with a big enough supply of electricity to support a big display of all kinds of lighting. From day one, I've had trouble with the electricity in this building.

I locked up, got on my Harley and sped toward Noe Valley and home where Spike, a semi-domesticated alley cat that had adopted me, awaited his supper.