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privateinvestigationsWho: Clint Chevalier and Lincoln Cole
What: Alone
Where: Fire Island, NY
When: Early Friday evening
It was about a two hour drive to Fire Island out of the City. The drive was nice in Clint's brand new sports car he wanted to take for a bit of a road trip, and they arrived just after lunch. It was a private beach house they hired. It was huge, and they had the whole place to themselves. Perfect for some timeout from the rat race they left behind. Although the moving had all been done, they were leaving the unpacking until they got back.
Lincoln was a bit wiped out from the drive, so he crashed on the massive bed in the master suite with huge windows overlooking the beach. Clint opened the doors onto the balcony right up for him so the sea breeze would come into the room while he snoozed. Lincoln was asleep in minutes and Clint unpacked their shit because he knew Lincoln hated nothing more than living out of a suitcase on trips. For all the travelling he had done as a model, he unpacked every fucking time. Clint didn't care, but he did it because he knew Lincoln was OCD about it.
He checked out some of the information leaflets left about the local areas, scoping out what was available to eat. But, as per their reservation, they had a fully stocked fridge and a fully stocked bar at their disposal. They could even call on a personal chef to cook for them if they wanted it. Sounded like it might be a good option. Clint had a lot of money he had saved over the years doing the not-so-above-the-line PI work he did. He was actually a millionaire in his own right, but not many people realised that. He had paid for his and Lincoln's share of the new house outright, paid cash for his new car, and when he booked this place for their weekend away, it was one of the best on offer.
He let Lincoln sleep as long as he needed to. After indulging in a couple of smokes out on the balcony, he went back inside and found the bed empty. He heard the toilet flush in the adjoining en suite that also had views out of the beach from the bath and shitter. It was all very posh and luxury; right up Lincoln's alley. "You hungry, babe? It's almost dinner time. What do you want to do? Get food, and go for a walk or some shit?"
What: Alone
Where: Fire Island, NY
When: Early Friday evening
It was about a two hour drive to Fire Island out of the City. The drive was nice in Clint's brand new sports car he wanted to take for a bit of a road trip, and they arrived just after lunch. It was a private beach house they hired. It was huge, and they had the whole place to themselves. Perfect for some timeout from the rat race they left behind. Although the moving had all been done, they were leaving the unpacking until they got back.
Lincoln was a bit wiped out from the drive, so he crashed on the massive bed in the master suite with huge windows overlooking the beach. Clint opened the doors onto the balcony right up for him so the sea breeze would come into the room while he snoozed. Lincoln was asleep in minutes and Clint unpacked their shit because he knew Lincoln hated nothing more than living out of a suitcase on trips. For all the travelling he had done as a model, he unpacked every fucking time. Clint didn't care, but he did it because he knew Lincoln was OCD about it.
He checked out some of the information leaflets left about the local areas, scoping out what was available to eat. But, as per their reservation, they had a fully stocked fridge and a fully stocked bar at their disposal. They could even call on a personal chef to cook for them if they wanted it. Sounded like it might be a good option. Clint had a lot of money he had saved over the years doing the not-so-above-the-line PI work he did. He was actually a millionaire in his own right, but not many people realised that. He had paid for his and Lincoln's share of the new house outright, paid cash for his new car, and when he booked this place for their weekend away, it was one of the best on offer.
He let Lincoln sleep as long as he needed to. After indulging in a couple of smokes out on the balcony, he went back inside and found the bed empty. He heard the toilet flush in the adjoining en suite that also had views out of the beach from the bath and shitter. It was all very posh and luxury; right up Lincoln's alley. "You hungry, babe? It's almost dinner time. What do you want to do? Get food, and go for a walk or some shit?"