by Kris Klein
I climbed out of bed in slow motion, grimacing at the pain in my legs, back and especially ass. Stiff and limping a little, I headed for the door to my bedroom, needing some air …
Which was when I saw it—the folded piece of white notebook paper, torn from a spiral notebook and shoved under the crack of my bedroom door.
I unfolded it, kind of knowing what to expect—yet still surprised by its contents. The writing was messy, a mixture of print and cursive characters, as if done in a hurry.
Jaime,
I’m gonna take off and go back to Austin for the week, after all. Nothing you did, I just need time to sort of get used to what happened. I hope ya understand, and hope you know I think you’re okay—a very cool dude. I hope you like living here. I’ll see you soon, for real, and who knows? Maybe we can repeat the craziness we did today.
I never did this kind of thing with another guy before, so am kind of freaked right now. I don’t know what this means about me, especially as much as I enjoyed it, but I think staying here this weekend, with you in the house, was only going to make things worse. You’re sexy as fuck, dude, and I need to get my head around all this shit before I can let temptation rule my dick again.
Stay strong, bro, and thanks for the best sex I’ve had in years. Oh yeah, and if you show this letter to anyone I’ll break your neck (haha). Seriously —between you and me only, okay man? I’m leaving a note for my mom too, telling her Jen and I had had a fight, but I was going back to Austin because we made up again.
So take it easy, and welcome to Houston. See ya soon. Oh yeah, and sorry about the Speedo. Couldn’t resist, man.
PJ
My Speedo? I looked over to where I’d thrown it on top of my small suitcase, confused by what he meant…only to see it was no longer there. Somehow, without waking me, PJ had come into my room while I slept and taken my swimsuit. Taken it with him back to Austin.
“I’ll miss you too, man,” I said, folding the note up again before tucking it under my pillow.
Sighing, I went back to my bedroom door and opened it, Brian a distant memory as I headed out to ask Charlene what she wanted to do for dinner.
The End
ABOUT KRIS KLEIN
KRIS KLEIN has been writing tales of male-male love and lust since he first published in Torso magazine in 1996. More than a dozen years and fifty stories later, you can still find his work in numerous magazines and anthologies, as well as online. Known for stories ranging from the horniest of hardcore to the most reverently romantic, Klein’s work reflects both his own high-octane sexual appetite…as well as his belief that gay men can still form loving, committed relationships when all is said and done. You can read more about Kris, his work and career, at www.krisklein.blogspot.com.
If you enjoyed PJ’S POOL PARTY, you might also enjoy:
EAST MEETS WES
By Kris Klein
Still nursing a broken heart over the ending of his relationship with Matt, Wes decides its best to pack up and leave Phoenix for good. He takes a job in Seattle, and in preparing to move decides to sell off most of his and Matt’s household possessions…including some valuable pieces of artwork that had been Matt’s favorites. Enter Robert, a blue collar, short and very well-built straight Asian welder-a budding tattoo artist with an eye for fine art who shows up at Wes’ door with the desire to buy but no green to back it up. But Wes, a skillful negotiator, finds other things Robert has that he wants…and indeed, before the evening is over, the divorced, rugged straight man finds the valuable abstract paintings he wants so badly may cost him a lot more then he’s willing to pay…or is he?
Warnings: This title contains graphic language, m/m sex, coercion, anal sex.
Excerpt From EAST MEETS WES:
He was sitting to my left, on the couch, and I caught sight again of the various artwork and designs tattooed up and down his right arm. Casually, I gestured at it. “Looks like you’ve collected some cool artwork already,” I told him.
“Oh, you like it?” Robert rolled up the right sleeve of his gray tee, all the way up to his shoulder, to reveal outlines of even more work, yet to be inked in. Even better, he was now showing off one hell of a muscular bicep. “It’s all my own work,” he said, beaming.
“Really? You drew everything?” I leaned in closer to look.
“Yeah,” Robert answered, proud to admit it. “Well, they’re my designs; I gave them to the guy, and he’s slowly getting them all tattooed onto my arm in a sleeve. Anyway, yeah-they’re my designs.”
I really was impressed-the guy would have made one hell of a graphic novel artist, and I told him so.
“You think so? I just do it for me.” He rolled the sleeve of his t-shirt down again, as I sat back on the couch. Even his fingers were long, clean and well-maintained. Sexy. “So okay Wes, let’s get this out of the way-how much did these cost you?” he asked, gesturing with a thumb at the paintings on the wall behind us.
“Fifteen-hundred dollars.”
Robert’s mouth fell open. “You’re shittin’ me.”
I shook my head. “Nope. Believe it or not, that’s with the $600 discount.”
Robert fell back onto the couch hard. “Damn.”
“I probably wouldn’t ask that much for them, though,” I added. “Besides, I’m always willing to negotiate.”
Robert laughed, looking over at me. “Man, I couldn’t afford anywhere near that. Not with all the negotiating in the world. And I don’t dare ask ya how much for the big one, so I guess that’s that…”
He started to rise but I caught hold of his arm, pulling him back down to the couch. “Hey man-ya never know. For instance-let’s say I started off by saying I thought twelve hundred was a fair price for the big one. Then your counter-offer would be…?”
Robert laughed. “Dude, like I said-that’s still not even in my ballpark, money-wise.”
I shrugged, so turned on by him now I could almost taste his skin. He smelled of Tag body spray and a scent unique to him-clean, yet musky and masculine-and it was driving me crazy. “There are other methods of bartering besides money,” I said.
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