Strung Tight

by Brown, Berengaria

  “No, but I have a reasonable idea of the work involved. My Dad was military and I grew up overseas. I’ve always worked as a translator and interpreter but decided on a change of lifestyle. A sea-change they sometimes call it. However, I was on my school’s swim team all through high school and earned a Life Saver’s Certificate. I’m not sure what it’s equivalent to here, but I’m more than happy to demonstrate my skills and learn whatever you need,” said Pete, digging his fingernails into his thighs so he wouldn’t display just how desperate he was to get the job.

  Don asked a raft of questions, all of them discerning, but fair, then stood up. Pete stood too, hoping his face didn’t display his anxiety.

  “You sound like the kind of man we need, Pete. Training begins Monday at seven a.m. on the front beach. Testing will be held Monday, five p.m., same place. If you pass, Tuesday through Friday you’ll be on probation and updating your skills. Provided all goes well, you’ll be paid staff and allocated shifts Monday the following week. How does that sound to you?”

  “Excellent, thank you,” said Pete, heaving a huge sigh of relief internally.

  Don showed him to the door, clapped a hand on his shoulder, then saw him out. Pete hurried out of the building onto the sidewalk and looked up and down for Jeff. He was on the other side of the street, leaning against a building, arms folded across his chest, waiting. Smiling broadly, Pete ran across the road, dodging traffic.

  “You look happy. I’m guessing you got the job,” Jeff grinned.

  “Well, I got accepted into training. Training all day Monday, testing Monday afternoon, then if I pass, probation all next week. If I pass that, then I get the job,” Pete explained in a rush.

  “I told you Don was a good man. Wanna, go for a drink to celebrate?”

  “No, I think I’d like to go back to our beach and practice all the life saving techniques I learned at school. It’s been a long time and it might be smart to polish them up a tad. How do you feel about being rescued?”

  “Being rescued by you might be fun. Will it involve mouth to mouth resuscitation?”

  They both laughed and headed back home to change into swimwear.

  *****

  Pete was serious about rehearsing for Monday, though, and Jeff relaxed on the sand and watched him swim up and down the length of the beach. Breaststroke, sidestroke, backstroke, freestyle. After half an hour, Pete walked out of the water and flopped on his towel beside Jeff.

  “Whew! I’m exhausted. I’m so out of practice. And unfit.” He patted his belly ruefully.

  “There’s not an ounce of fat on you,” protested Jeff. “I bet that’s all muscle. But when do I see you do butterfly?”

  “Not in this lifetime. That’s a killer stroke.”

  They joked a little more, then Jeff leaned over Pete, who was now lying on his back, and said softly, “I’m proud of you, Pete. I know how much you want this job, and I really hope you get it. I expect you will. You’re good. But even if you aren’t successful, I’ll still be proud of your skills and abilities and attitude.”

  Pete reached up and pulled Jeff’s head down for a kiss. “Thank you. I love the way you accept me. We have something really good going on together, and it means a lot to me. You mean a lot to me.”

  Pete’s startlingly blue eyes focused on Jeff’s brown ones, and Jeff felt the power behind the statement. He could so easily come to love this kind, thoughtful, talented man.

  They stretched out on their towels in companionable silence for a while before Pete jumped up. “Okay, I’ve got some strength back. Now, come into the water with me and you can drown and I’ll rescue you.”

  “Well, make sure you do. I have no plans on drowning for real, you know. Although, I’ll be looking forward to when we get to the mouth to mouth resuscitation bit.”

  Laughing, they walked back to the water.

  Pete insisted on making the rehearsal as real as possible, taking them into the deeper water and having Jeff hold a dead man’s float until his lungs were bursting before rescuing him, then repeating survival techniques until Jeff’s head was spinning.

  He let himself sink under the water and waited until Pete swam past, then grabbed his legs and pulled the other man under. Pete came down with a “whoosh” of air bubbles, but quickly corrected his breathing and they play wrestled for a while before rising to the surface and splashing around.

  Eventually, they both tired of the game and left the water to lie on their towels some more. Jeff let his gaze rest on the other man. Pete’s swim shorts were not tiny, they hid his tattoo, but nothing could hide the defined muscles of his arms and thighs, his broad shoulders and hard-muscled chest. Their hours on the beach together had given Pete’s skin a sun-kissed, light golden color, which accentuated his blond hair and blue eyes. He did look the part of the traditional lifeguard, and Jeff could imagine some of the town fathers insisting Pete’s picture be included in the next lot of advertising for Resort City.

  But more interesting to him was the fact that, as he gazed at his partner, Pete’s swimwear started to tent up at the most interesting section of his anatomy.

  In response, Jeff’s own cock twitched to life, pressing hard against the fabric of his swim briefs.

  The beach was almost deserted. There were just a few people down the other end of it. Damn it, why not, he thought. “Let’s pull our towels closer to the dune,” he suggested.

  “Huh?” Pete asked, obediently standing up to move his towel.

  Jeff laid their towels parallel to the dune, their heads away from the distant beachgoers, Pete’s back against the sand dune. “Privacy,” he replied, pulling Pete into his arms.

  Pete snuggled in. “Yeah, be pretty hard to see that we’re kissing, though likely they’ll guess.”

  “I reckon they’ll be too busy doing their own thing. Besides, I want to do more than just kiss,” he said, sliding a hand inside Pete’s swim briefs and cupping his erection.

  “Holy shit! Getting arrested is not a good thing, though.”

  “We won’t be arrested. Hardly anyone comes here, you know that. Besides, we’ll be discreet.” Jeff stroked Pete’s cock, reveling in the silky texture of the skin wrapping around the muscles that flexed and grew under his stroking.

  “Hot damn! Discreet huh?” Pete’s hips jerked as he thrust his cock up into Jeff’s touch.

  Pete gripped Jeff’s head and pulled him down for a long kiss. It was harsh, passionate, carnal, and took his breath away. But he didn’t let go of Pete’s cock. It felt much too good in his hand. He ran his thumb over the head. There was a drop of moisture there and Jeff swirled his thumb over it again and again, rubbing the moisture into the cap, loving the feel of the smooth, soft skin under his hand.

  “God, that feels good,” whispered Pete, staring into Jeff’s face, his hands still tangled in Jeff’s hair.

  “Oh yeah, it feels real good,” replied Jeff, stroking up and down the shaft, adding a little twist at the end every second or third stroke.

  Pete’s gasp encouraged him to scrape a fingernail over the head, then down the long vein to the root. He rolled the blond’s balls in his hand, enjoying the coarser texture of the skin, and the growing smell of Pete’s musk as his arousal rose.

  “Not going to last long if you keep that up,” Pete groaned.

  “I must be doing something right, then.” Jeff doubled his efforts, stroking the hot dick in his hand, rolling Pete’s balls, pressing the pads of his fingers into the vein, then slipping the tip of a finger into the eye at the top, loving the dampness of Pete’s arousal.

  Jeff concentrated on using every trick he knew to please Pete, while the other man moaned and gasped and dug his fingernails into Jeff’s shoulders.

  “Gonna blow!” warned Pete, and a stream of ropey white cum, shot out of the top of his cock, coating Jeff’s hand and Pete’s belly as he thrust his hips up hard into Jeff’s grip and his cock spurted again and again.

  “Shit that was hot. Please tell me no one saw us,
” panted Pete.

  Jeff kissed him then looked around. “Nup. No one paying us any attention at all. Told ya so,” he grinned, shifting to give his own aching dick some more space. God, he was hard enough to pound nails, Pete aroused him so much. Giving Pete pleasure was the best thing ever.

  Jeff rubbed his hand on the towel, then swiped the fabric over Pete’s cock. “I’d rather have licked it off, if we had been at home.”

  “Oh yeah, I wouldn’t mind sucking you either. It looks like you’ve got a problem there I can help you with.” Pete leaned up on one elbow, wrapped a calf around Jeff’s nearest leg, opening it wide, then tickled and teased his way across Jeff’s chest and down toward his aching dick.

  “God, yes,” whispered Jeff, his cock almost breaking through the fabric of the swim briefs in its desire to get free.

  But Pete continued to tease and torment him, running his hand along Jeff’s lower belly, grabbing a handful of sand and letting it trickle through his fingers onto Jeff’s torso, then swirling it in patterns across Jeff’s belly, lower and lower, until, finally, he let his hand sink down into the swimwear and run along the length of the guitarist’s engorged cock.

  But instead of stroking his dick as Jeff was desperate for him to do, again Pete tickled and teased, his touch so light it almost wasn’t there are all.

  “Dammit,” groaned Jeff.

  “Bit needy, are we? Wanting something more?” Pete’s touch firmed a little, then, with no warning at all, his fingers dived in and tugged on the barbell.

  Jeff erupted into a massive climax, seed spurting hard from his cock, over and over again. Pete stroked the erection, milking it for more cum, then rubbed some of the fluid into his owns hands before offering a finger to Jeff to lick, and sucking one himself.

  They were both still resting there breathless when they heard voices approaching. Hastily, yet as unobtrusively as they could, they tidied themselves a little. But the young couple walking up the beach was engrossed in each other and in their conversation and never even looked at Jeff and Pete lying so close together in the lee of the sand dune.

  *****

  They spent every possible moment together over the weekend, knowing Pete would be fully occupied with lifeguard training and learning his new duties the following week.

  In the evenings, Pete sat at a table in the strip club, fiddling with the candle on the table as Jeff played guitar, absorbing every note of the music, loving it. He didn’t even bother to watch the strippers perform when Jeff wasn’t onstage.

  Monday morning he was on the beach at ten to seven, nervously awaiting his training session. Don took the process seriously. It would be bad publicity for the entire town if anything happened to a tourist, no matter how drunk or stupid the tourist happened to be at the time. Fortunately, many of the lifeguards were men who’d lived all their lives in Resort City, had spent most of their spare time on the beaches and in the water. They were well aware of every nuance of tide and current here.

  There were no dangerous rips or undercurrents to fear, so it wasn’t a very difficult job. Discouraging drunks from thinking they were Superman and preventing the lewd from taking photographs on the nudist beach seemed to be the greatest challenges, as far as Pete could tell by the end of his first day.

  When it came time for their test, a group of existing lifeguards was sent out into the water to pretend to be drowning or in trouble. The new recruits had to bring them in. Some of them pretended to be in genuine difficulties, others to be troublemakers.

  Pete told his troublemaker about the shark he saw take a man’s leg off, and his victim became instantly amenable to being towed in.

  “You realize there aren’t any sharks here,” the man said to Pete after they were back on shore.

  “I didn’t think there were, but I was betting a tourist would believe me enough to calm down.” He grinned.

  “Nice technique,” said Don patting his shoulder and handing out their shifts for the rest of the week. Each newbie would always be accompanied by an experienced lifeguard, and they would have a turn at patrolling each of the main beaches. Pete was paired with Damien on the seven thirty a.m. to three thirty p.m. shift.

  “When your probationary week is over, I’ll rejig the rosters. I know quite a few men want to change shifts,” promised Don.

  *****

  “It means I’ll hardly see you this week. By the time I get back from work, you’ll be getting ready to start at the club. And I can’t stay there until midnight, or I’ll never be able to get up in the morning.” Pete sighed when they reached home that evening.

  “It’s great you got the job, though, and it’s just for a few days. I’ll get up in the morning with you and go back to bed after you leave, which will give us a little more time together,” replied Jeff.

  So that’s what they did Tuesday and Wednesday. But by Thursday, Pete was too tired to go to the club even for a few hours, asking Jeff to wake him when he got home. And on Friday morning, Jeff was too tired to get up with Pete, mumbling a greeting then rolling over in bed without ever really walking up. Pete consoled himself with the knowledge that this was his last day on this shift and, with luck, he’d get one that suited Jeff’s schedule better.

  On Friday, he came home from work to find the trailer full of men and musical instruments. Jeff’s old band had come to see him and “talk business”. Pete was surprised. Had Jeff told him they were coming, but he’d been too self-absorbed and forgotten? No, I’m sure I would have remembered.

  The living area of the trailer seemed to be full of big men with long hair and ragged jeans and lots of metal studs and jewelry about their clothing and person.

  Jeff rushed over to Pete and gave him a bear hug. “Let me introduce you to everyone. This is James, our drummer. Sam, he plays bass and is on vocals. Lonnie is the lead vocalist and also plays guitar. And this is TJ who’s on keys and our backup vocalist.”

  Pete nodded and smiled, hopelessly confused about who was who. And what the hell was keys? And did he mean bass, as in bass guitar, or the stringed instrument? Ah fuck, who cares. I’ll work it out later.

  Still trying to figure out exactly what was happening, Pete went to shower and change for the evening at the strip club. It seemed the band, Green Fire, was coming along, too, although Pete wasn’t sure why or what they were doing. Would they, perhaps, be playing there, too? Oh hell, was Jeff going to rejoin the band and play with them? Ah fuck! Just when I got a job here. Hell! Will I have to throw it in and travel with the band? Will Jeff even want me anymore once he’s back with the band and all those groupies? Fucking hell!

  The next hour was one of noise, movement, and chaos as the band members got changed, loaded their equipment back into their truck—a truck Pete hadn’t even noticed as he’d come home despite it being parked beside Jeff’s trailer—and they all went to The Howl and Pussy.

  Jeff raced in to get ready and Pete sat with the band at one of the front tables. They were loud and messy and there seemed to be far more of them than just the four as they all ordered drinks and snacks and made comments about the décor and the girls. But when Jeff played, they were silent and attentive, one or another of them nodding, or occasionally tapping a finger in time to the beat, but all of them giving Jeff their undivided attention.

  Every other male in the building is leering at the girls, but they’re only interested in Jeff. Reckon my time with him is over now. They’ll entice him off with them. Why else would they be here? Plus, they obviously adore his music.

  Pete’s stomach was churning and his heart was breaking. He had nothing to offer Jeff but his devotion. Green Fire had the world at their feet and it sure looked as if they wanted Jeff back with them. Even if Jeff invited him to travel with the band, how would he support himself? And could he cope with the endless noise and chaos of these men. They were all so big and loud, almost manic in their movements at times.

  Pete couldn’t stand it anymore. He muttered some excuses and left, walking outside into
the warm, salt-scented air and breathing deeply. Only when he reached the parking lot did he realize he’d have to walk home as it was too late for the bus service, and he wouldn’t take Jeff’s car in case Jeff wanted it. Besides, the walk would do him good, give him time to think things through. Could he go on tour if he was asked? Could he cope with endless motel rooms and concerts? Well, he’d tried a career as a tour guide and the travel hadn’t bothered him, only the idiot tourists had. So maybe…

  Pete’s mind was churning as much as his stomach was as he walked toward the trailer park. Realistically, Resort City was no more home to him than anywhere else and the travel wasn’t the issue. It was more that he wanted his independence, some sort of a job. Could he get work with the band? As a gofer maybe? Or selling tickets perhaps? He was pretty familiar with working online so maybe there was something…

  But did Jeff even want him? Would Jeff relish being back in the lifestyle after his break, enjoy the parties and the groupies? Pete was adamant he couldn’t share Jeff. He’d rather part than see Jeff sleep with other people.

  Ah hell, who knows. I’ll just wait and see what happens.

  *****

  “Where’s Pete?”

  “Dunno.” It was James who spoke, but as Jeff looked around the table, each man shook his head.

  “He was probably too tired after his day at work,” Jeff surmised. “Did any of you mention the translation plans to him? I’m sure he’d be the ideal person to discuss it with. He speaks several different languages and used to live overseas so would have the cultural aspects down pat, too.”

  “Nah, he’s your friend and it’s your news. It’s up to you to sound him out. Most of the songs we’ll be selling internationally are yours, too. There’s not as much interest in the ones TJ and I wrote,” James added.