by Jerry Cole
“Troubled Waters”
M/M Gay Romance
Jerry Cole
© 2017
Jerry Cole
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
This book is intended for Adults (ages 18+) only. The contents may be offensive to some readers. It may contain graphic language, explicit sexual content, and adult situations. May contain scenes of unprotected sex. Please do not read this book if you are offended by content as mentioned above or if you are under the age of 18.
Please educate yourself on safe sex practices before making potentially life-changing decisions about sex in real life. If you’re not sure where to start, see here: http://www.jerrycoleauthor.com/safe-sex-resources/.
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner & are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Products or brand names mentioned are trademarks of their respective holders or companies. The cover uses licensed images & are shown for illustrative purposes only. Any person(s) that may be depicted on the cover are simply models.
Edition v1.01 (2017.09.15)
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Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Part One - Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Part Two - Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Authors Note
Books by Jerry Cole
Part One - Chapter One
Darren Davis shoved the pile of books on his desk to the side. He wanted no distractions for his next student meeting. He’d been looking forward to this all morning, as he’d been unable to get Cody Dayton out of his mind for the past few days.
Darren had the classic good looks of a romanticized English poet. He was fair-haired and with blue eyes that took your breath away—no matter if you were female or male.
Cody knocked on Darren’s office door and looked in.
“Come on in Cody, and thank you for being so prompt.”
Cody slinked over to the chair in front of the desk and slouched into it, hanging his leg over the arm as he dropped his backpack on the floor.
“Sup?” Cody asked.
This was not the image of Cody that Darren had cultivated in his mind—but then he’d always had the tendency to over-romanticize people to whom he was attracted.
“I believe you wanted to discuss the grade on your last paper,” Darren reminded him.
“Yeah, about that… Seemed a bit harsh to me. I thought I’d done a pretty good job on it.”
Darren picked up a pencil and tapped it unconsciously on his desk. “It was only good, Cody, because it was largely copied from Henderson’s analysis of Henry V in his book The Historical Shakespeare.”
“Ah…”
“Yes. Ah…”
Cody shifted nervously in his chair. “Well, you see, we had this away game and we didn’t get back till after one o’clock the day the paper was due.”
“Then why didn’t you complete it before the game?”
“You see, there was this trig test that day…”
Darren took off his horn-rimmed glasses and rubbed his eyes. “Okay, Cody, enough of the excuses. Yes, I saw you lifted most of your proposition from Henderson, but at least you put it into your own words. Thus the C rather than the D you might have gotten.”
“But Professor Davis, I’ve got to get my grades up if I’m to stay on the team. Is there some way we could maybe work this out?” Cody shifted in the chair. He brought his leg down from the arm and scooted forward, spreading his legs to accentuate the bulge in his crotch, which was considerable. He placed his hand right up next up to it and began to slowly work his cock through the denim of his jeans.
Darren was shocked and appalled. Even though he had fantasized about this very moment, it was so totally inappropriate that he was unsure what to say. He stood up as he was starting to get his own erection and needed to adjust it by putting his hand in his pocket.
“Cody, what are you doing?”
Cody removed his hand and moved back into the chair.
“Sorry, Professor, got a case of jock itch.”
Darren didn’t believe that for one second. However, because he’d had his own questionable motives, he decided to overlook the blatant come-on.
“Maybe I could do another paper, for extra credit then,” Cody suggested.
“I’ll think about it. Suggest a subject to me and I’ll consider it.”
“Oh man, that would be so great. Can’t thank you enough.” Cody stood, picked up his backpack, and scooted out of the office as quickly as he could.
It was clear to Darren that the signals he’d been receiving from Cody were not signs of attraction, but of crass sexual manipulation. He thought himself lucky that he’d not fallen for it; he was going to have to watch himself more closely. But what also troubled Darren was that Cody must know, or suspect, that he was gay. Darren had tried very hard to keep his sexuality separate from his work. He was out, but not open, and he never revealed his sexuality to his students. But this was a close call. He sighed. His forced celibacy was beginning to take its toll.
He collapsed back into his chair and was tempted to beat-off some of his frustration, but, unfortunately, it was almost time for his next scheduled meeting of the afternoon with Melissa Thomas.
***
“En garde,” Darren commanded, as he faced his friend Reggie Baylor with his epée on the fencing mat. They feinted back and forth, taunting each other, looking for an opening to lunge. As he was taller and left handed, Darren had the distinct advantage.
After a heated eleven-minute exchange, the match ended with Darren one point up. Both men whipped off their masks and shook hands.
“Wait ‘til next time,” Reggie insisted. “I’m gonna kick your butt.”
“Maybe…” Darren put his arm around Reggie’s shoulder. “Shower? I’ve had quite enough. It’s been a brutal day.”
“Oh?” Reggie sounded intrigued. “Do spill al
l.”
Reggie was the provost of the Sanderson Library and slightly older than Darren. He appeared rumpled looking, no matter what he was wearing. His sandy hair was thinning; his high forehead accentuating his small eyes, giving him the look of a startled wombat.
“Over drinks?” Darren asked.
“Absolutely. Diane won’t be home ‘til after her bowling, so I have plenty of time. Maybe dinner as well?”
“Why not?”
They reached the changing room and showered and dressed.
“Where to?” Darren asked as they stepped out of the gym.
“What do you feel like this evening? Italian, Thai, junk food… you name it.”
“I know it’s absolutely gross, but how about pizza and beer? It’s been that kind of day.”
“Carbonara’s, then?”
“Perfect. But I’ve got my bike. It’ll take me a while to get there.”
“Pop it in the back of the Land Rover—plenty of room,” Reggie said.
***
They’d ordered a pitcher of pilsner and were down two glasses each by the time the pizza arrived.
“So tell me about this unruly day of yours,” Reggie said.
“Oh, Reg, I was almost a very bad boy.”
Reggie leaned forward as he pulled at a string of pizza cheese streaming from his mouth. “Don’t spare a detail. How I love a bad boy story. Is daddy going to have to send you to detention?”
Darren laid out the whole sorted Cody episode.
“Oh, the little minx. That is a naughty boy story! But it seems to me he is much more at fault than you are.”
Darren smiled slightly and shook his head. “Outwardly, perhaps. But I was harboring the wickedest thoughts in my breast.”
“Oh Jane Austen, where are you when we need you? All those tormented nineteenth century maidens. Squirrely with thoughts of mad passionate sex, and yet spending their days knitting booties, or agonizing over fortepianos, plunking out Mozart sonatas.”
“So I’m Jane Austen?”
“Oh no, my dear. I see you as Mr. Darcy: brooding, enigmatic, and tortured, but ultimately lovable.”
“So much better than Middlemarch’s detestable Nicholas Bulstrode—the very embodiment of hypocritical evil.”
Reggie shot a puzzled look at Darren. “Why on earth does a springy hunk like you not have a dreamy boyfriend?”
Darren sighed. “It’s exactly what my mother asks. It’s what I ask. It’s what the universe asks. It surely is a mystery.”
“Look at me,” Reggie said, shaking his head. “A sagging, fading wreck, and yet I have the delectable Diane—a sweet wonder. Where’s the justice in that?”
“Oh, Reggie, as you so well know, there is no justice, only irony.”
“I’ll drink to that,” Reggie said, raising his glass.
Darren took another swig of beer after saluting his friend, and after carefully studying him, said, “You know, you are the gayest straight man I have ever known.”
Reggie laughed. “And you are the straightest gay man I have ever known.”
***
It was a six-hour drive from Sanderson College to Philadelphia, where Loretta, Darren’s unconventional mother, still resided in the family mansion—the only inhabitant besides a few attendants. Darren drove up to the house and got out of the car. He stretched to take the kinks out of his back after the long drive, picked up his overnight bag, and went inside.
“Mother?” he called out.
“Darren?” Loretta answered, and started, barefoot as usual, down one side of the split marble staircase to the entrance foyer.
He went over to greet her and took his slender mother in his arms in a generous hug.
“You look well,” she said, pulling back and examining him.
“Ever a mercy,” he said, smiling. “Not lookin’ bad yourself.”
“And how is my adorable morsel of a grandchild?”
“Tasty as ever. And aren’t you due for a visit soon? He asks after you regularly.”
“I should. But when it comes to driving all the way up there, I just wilt.”
“I could bring him down here sometime. Maybe for Easter.”
“Perfect. What would I do without you?”
“Well, you don’t have to.”
“Staying long?” she asked.
“Got all weekend. Classes on Tuesday.”
“Go ahead and take the bag to your room and freshen up if you like. I’ll meet you in the library.”
“Okay.” He started up the stairs.
“Want anything?” she called up. “Coffee? Snacks? Could do a lunch if you missed out.”
“Maybe a toasted cheese sandwich?”
She nodded and headed to the kitchen.
***
Loretta and Darren jointly managed the Davis estate and were actively involved in the family’s various charitable organizations. They’d spent all Saturday working through the various decisions needed to manage the estate, and that day they were to tackle the charities—always their favorite activity. They’d spent the morning funding projects and were now taking a break.
Stretched out on the loveseat with an open book resting on his chest, Darren briefly closed his eyes. Loretta sat at her desk opening mail.
“My darling, how long has it been now?”
Darren opened his eyes, peering over at her. “How long since what?”
“Since you last got laid?”
He rolled his eyes. “Mother… Really…”
“No, it concerns me. You’re up there with all those luscious, off-limit young students, horny as rabbits, and you just sit on your hands to keep from grabbing at all those football players and fey drama students. You need to pounce on something.”
“I think you mean someone.”
“It’s been, what, five years since the divorce? Have you had any meaningful relationships since then?”
“Well… I’m afraid the pickings are slim at Sanderson. Like you say, the students are off limits, and most of the available profs are either ancient, lesbians, or tortured closet cases.”
“Too sad. Then what’s to be done?” She tapped her chin. “Maybe I should hold an eligible bachelors party here at the house. Philadelphia is overflowing with delicate young men. Certainly, there must be someone suitable amongst the bunch.”
“I’m not about to commute two hundred and fifty miles each way for a date, mother.”
“You know there are all those websites for straight gentleman to find willing Russian brides to import—maybe there’s something similar for gays.”
“I’m just fine.”
“Well, if you’re anything like your dear departed father you’d be randy as a mink by now.”
“TMI.”
“I’m just saying.”
“Can we talk about something else, please?”
“But you are such a catch, my darling. I would think there’d be a line of eligible young men winding down the block seeking your favors.”
Darren tried turning the tables. “And what about you, then? Any new gentlemen callers?”
“I’m afraid I’ve learned from several unfortunate experiences that the only aphrodisiac that turns on most of my dates is money.” She paused to consider. “You know our trouble?”
“And what’s that, mother dear?”
“We have too much good taste and integrity. Commodities far too rare in this dreadful age.”
“You are too wise.”
Loretta shook her head and swept a stray lock behind her ear. “And so we battle the forces of darkness in our modest way.”
“Mother, seven hundred and eighty-three million dollars is not exactly modest.”
“Yes, but most of that is tied up in all those horrible polluting investments.”
Darren sat up and closed his book. “But we are divesting ourselves of those, slowly but surely.”
Loretta put her opened mail aside and asked, “What are your plans for the summer break? New book? Travel? Laz
y summer?”
“Actually, I have been filled with wanderlust lately. Thinking of maybe sailing the Greek isles. Do a bit of writing, a bit of swimming, and a whole lot of fresh calamari and baklava.”
“With or without your devoted mama?”
“Without this year, if you don’t mind. And per our previous conversation, I thought of seeking out, and engaging in, copious amounts of fellatio and sodomy.”
“And what was it you said earlier? TMI?”
Darren laughed and stood up. He went over to the library table where they had their work spread out and studied it. “Then perhaps we should get back to work and spend some more money on some of these worthwhile projects.”
“What takes your fancy?” Loretta asked.
Darren glanced through a number of portfolios and grant applications. He shook his head. “These are fine and worthy, but I’m hankering for something bigger. Something that would really make a difference. We dole out a pittance here and a pittance there, and it helps, but it’s not—you know—earth shattering.”
“What are you suggesting?” she asked.
“We need to look at what’s really needed and act on that.”
“But my dear, our resources are limited. We’re not a Saudi oil cartel.”
Darren turned to his mother. “But what? What do you think is something really important that we could tackle and perhaps influence in some meaningful way?”
Loretta considered, then said, “Hm. Interesting to contemplate. Climate change?
“Too big—out of our range.”
She thought some more. “The income gap. Education…”
“Same. Same,” Darren said, still struggling. Then he said, “Water. What about water?”
“What about it?”
“That’s going to be perhaps the number one issue sooner than we think. It might be something we could address. We could start small and grow as the issue expands.”
“Hm. I like that. We could start with third world countries where good water in non-existent or polluted. Small teams of experts hooking up one community at a time and moving on.” Loretta began making notes. Then she had a thought. “You know, I think your uncle is working on some water projects in Africa. We should speak with him. He might help, or know directions we could go.”
