by GA Hauser
Chapter Three
Angry, tired, feeling completely frustrated, Owen opened the door connecting the garage to his house and dragged his suitcase to his bedroom. After unlatching it and dumping the contents into the hamper, he sat down on his bed and felt furious with himself.
It happened again. They were quiet. They landed. They walked out of the plane as if they were total strangers and stood at the conveyer-belt for their bags in silence. It was making his head hurt so much he wanted to scream.
“Why?” he shouted into the empty room. “Why didn’t you ask him where he was staying? Why didn’t you tell him you want to see him more often? Why, Owen? Why?” He shut his mouth at the sound of his own voice. It echoed back in the sterility of his lonely domain.
Falling back on the mattress with a bounce, Owen stared at the light fixture over his bed and felt as if he could cry. “I’m so fucking stupid.”
~
Taylor checked into his hotel and finally made it horizontal on the double bed. Lying quietly, replaying the events from the moment he noticed Owen in the waiting area to the time they stood side by side at baggage claim, to his ride in the rental car, to where he was now. Alone.
Somewhere between that “hello” and lack of a “goodbye” there had been an opportunity. It wasn’t like him to not verbalize his thoughts and wants. “Oh, Taylor, you must really like this guy if you can’t even ask him his goddamn home phone number.” It was the fear of that heterosexual side of Owen that terrified him. The information that may contain the name of some knock-out female partner and the knowledge he was cohabitating with her. It would kill him if it were the case. “Why?” he asked himself. “Are you that hung up on the guy to be that devastated if he’s not available?”
When he thought about that question, for a long while, he finally said, “Yes.”
Anger began to surface through his exhaustion. It was late. He needed to sleep. Early tomorrow morning he was expected to be sharp and on a job site. He checked his watch. It was after ten.
Sitting up, looking around the bland room with its plain furnishings, Taylor stood and moved to a desk and chair that were crammed into the small space. Sitting down, he opened all the drawers until a telephone directory was located. Taking it out, flipping through the pages, he found Owen’s name listed. Pausing, deciding on what to do, he used the pen and paper supplied with the hotel’s logo on the top, wrote all the pertinent information down, then slapped the book closed and stuffed it back into the drawer with the ever-present Gideon’s Bible. “Okay. Now what?” He stared at the number. Looked at the telephone on the desk. Stared back at the number.
“Augh!” he groaned. “You total chicken-shit! Call him!” Coaching himself, trying to find the courage, the only thing stopping him was the threat of a female answering the phone. Throwing the paper down on the desk, Taylor stood up abruptly, and with his temper raging he stormed to the bathroom to shower and try to get some goddamn sleep.
~
The clock was ticking, the house was dark and calm, and Owen was under the blankets with his eyes wide open. Sleep? Was he kidding? Flashes of Taylor’s large cock slipping up his butt were making him tingle and shiver. Twisting and turning under the sheets, punching at the pillow in vain, he could not get any rest.
What construction site was Taylor working on? Gee, there are only a few hundred around LA. No problem. He laughed at the absurdity. “Why didn’t you get his cell phone number, you idiot?” Owen growled. Knowing he had to get up early the next morning, he sat up, threw the covers off and stormed to the medicine cabinet for a sleep aid. Lying there cursing at himself wasn’t doing him any good whatsoever.
Chapter Four
Behind his desk in his office downtown, Owen sat in front of his computer screen and typed figures into spreadsheets and calculated finances and tax breaks for his various clients. Behind his desk was a large picture window overlooking LA’s skyline. Trying not to be distracted by it, he had to get busy, or he’d spend his whole day staring out at the cranes and concrete foundations of new projects with the intention of driving to each one and searching for the man of his dreams. How insane was that?
Distracted to a fault, Owen prayed, begged the powers that be, that he and Taylor would once again be on the same United flight this Friday night and they could have another hot session in the bathroom.
“I must be absolutely nuts. My entire sex life is in the toilet. How ironic is that? I ask you?” Looking up, making sure no one was walking by his office and could hear him babbling to himself, Owen shook his head to clear the image of Taylor’s unbelievable naked lower half and ground his jaw to force himself to calculate dry numbers.
~
“Taylor! Taylor! Hey, Madison, are you awake?”
Snapping out of his trance, Taylor looked up from a blueprint he had in his hand even though he wasn’t even reading it and found the foreman shouting at him. “Yes?”
“They need you down there.”
“Okay.” Taylor rolled up the paperwork and made his way through the rubble and debris to the waiting workmen. The sun was blazing and warm even though the summer was melding into fall, and the brightness blinded his eyes. Adjusting his yellow hardhat, Taylor met the men who needed him and listened to their query, all the while he kept telling himself that he would call Mr. Braydon, today, after work, no excuses. If a woman answered, he’d hang up. No big deal.
Handling one crisis and moving to the next, Taylor had to keep remembering he was on a construction site and this was no place to lose concentration and be nailed with some heavy machinery or concrete. If he could get the sensation of Owen’s body, scent, and taste out of his mind, then he’d be all right. But that wasn’t as easy as it sounded.
~
Eating a sandwich at his desk, Owen felt his mobile phone vibrate and looked down at it. Leah had text him a message. Smiling in delight, he set his food down, then answered her back. “I miss u 2!” Waiting for her to reply, Owen felt slightly sick about her being so far away. But at least they had this communication to share, along with the emails, phone calls, and his weekend visits.
When five o’clock rolled around, Owen closed down his computer program and straightened up his desk. He was self-employed and leased an office in a large complex so he could be easily accessed from downtown LA. Locking his door, pocketing the key, he made his way down to the parking garage to his Lexus. Owen stopped before merging to the street from the garage. On one corner of the intersection directly across from his office there was a huge construction project. On the billboard it advertised both retail and office space. Could it be? That close to his office? What where the chances? “None.” Owen hit the gas when there was a break in the traffic, stopping off at the grocery store for some dinner before heading home.
~
Taylor walked through his door of his hotel room, threw down his key and sat at the desk. He picked up the phone and before he could change his mind he dialed Owen’s phone number. It rang. The answering machine picked up. Taylor panicked and hung up. He wasn’t prepared for that. He hadn’t decided what to say in case he had to leave a message. It had been Owen’s voice and on that message Owen didn’t say, “Leave a message and we’ll call you back,” he said, “Leave a message and I’ll call you back.” Singular. Not plural. Was that verification he lived alone? Or was that just the way some people made their messages?
“Why am I overanalyzing this?” Taylor scolded himself. “Just leave a fucking message!” He picked up the phone, then set it down. Unable to decide what to say, Taylor headed to the shower to wash off the dirt from the construction site, hoping while he was scrubbing, he would come up with something.
~
Owen came through his door with a bag of groceries. Checking the answering machine, he hit the play button as he made his way to the kitchen to set the bag on the table.
“Hi, it’s Jenna. I just wanted to let you know that Leah needs to go to the orthodontist. She may need braces. I wante
d to check if your insurance will pay or you will. Call me.”
Making a sour face at the tone of his ex’s voice, Owen erased it, continuing to put away his food, leaving a frozen dinner out to stick in the microwave.
Once he was out of his suit and tie and in comfortable clothing, the phone rang. Answering it, he sighed in annoyance and said, “I got the message, Jenna. Yes, I think it’s covered, but I have to check.”
“Can you please let me know?”
He walked with the cordless phone to the kitchen and stuck his dinner into the microwave. “Now? Why the hell do you have to know now?” Trying not to get unreasonably angry, Owen made his way to his file cabinets and began searching for the paperwork as he cursed at her under his breath.
~
It was busy. Taylor kept hitting redial. After ten minutes he gave up, grabbed his key, and headed to the hotel restaurant for dinner. It just didn’t make sense to keep trying. It wasn’t going to work, and even if it did, he was in Denver and Owen was in LA. What was the fricken point?
~
His microwave food eaten, Owen sat with an empty wine glass in front of him and daydreamed. Having lived in his fantasy world since he was a young child, Owen felt he hadn’t matured a day past sixteen years old, and didn’t want to. Annoying flashbacks of being roughed up by bullies on the school grounds came back to him. He was chubby. He had braces…maybe a pimple or two.
Standing, washing his plate in the sink, Owen headed to his bedroom and opened the closet. On the top shelf he found his old high school yearbook. Bringing it to the den, he thumbed through the pages knowing where his photos were by heart. The chess club, the math club, the computer science club…no, he wasn’t Mr. Popularity. Never voted best looking or most likely to succeed, Owen wondered what his ex-classmates would think of him now. He was making a six-figure income, had lost his childhood chubby-cheeks, and even gained some bulk from working out at the gym. Seeing how he looked at sixteen, he cringed and shook his head. “Man, was I a geek.”
As if to reassure himself, Owen set the book aside, walked to the bathroom and switched on the light. In the reflection of the mirror he studied his face. His skin was smooth and clear, his brown eyes were framed by long dark lashes, his brown hair was thick and soft, and his teeth were perfectly straight. With more scrutiny than he deserved, he judged himself in that mirror. “I’m not ugly.” It was the best he could do.
“Taylor, on the other hand…” Closing his eyes to relive the touch of that man’s lips, hands, and cock, Owen imagined Taylor was the high school’s prom king, captain of all the sports teams and dating the head cheerleader. Blinking his eyes open again, Owen asked his reflection, “He’s using you for sex, Owen. What makes you think you’re in his league?”
Chapter Five
The long week passed. Though it seemed like forever, Owen was glad when Friday had come and he was relieved from his office duties for two whole days. Would Taylor be on his flight? Would they hook up again, or would they ignore each other as if the last time was the end of these silly sexual antics and they couldn’t possibly keep it up eternally?
His bag checked, his boarding pass in his hand, Owen actually asked the attendant, “Can you tell me if Mr. Taylor Madison is on this flight?”
“No, sir. I can’t. There’s a privacy law that forbids me to.”
Nodding, feeling foolish, Owen thanked her and made his way to the security checkpoint. Worried that he would never bump into Taylor again, Owen slumped over and didn’t make eye contact with anyone as he put his wallet, keys, and cell phone in a basket on the conveyer belt and passed through the metal detector.
~
Taylor began his search for Owen the moment he stepped into the terminal. Hating himself for not calling him, knowing he was a complete coward, Taylor promised himself this time he would make that effort, ask for Owen’s home information and meet with him during the week. Like a soldier that has a battle plan, Taylor hurried to the check-in desk and set his bag down so it could be stowed in the hold of the airplane. As he showed the woman his ticket and ID, he asked, “Sorry, but could you tell me if Owen Braydon is on this flight?”
She blinked, stared at him curiously, then said as if he were hard of hearing, “No, sir. I can’t. There’s a privacy law that forbids me to.”
He couldn’t understand her strange tone or attitude. “Did I say something wrong?”
As if she were unable to prevent it, she replied, “It’s just that he was here asking me about you!” Then, realizing she had broken her own rules, she turned bright red and pretended she hadn’t said a word, clicking the keys on her keyboard. “Uh…you want the seat next to him?” she whispered, looking around sheepishly to make sure no one heard.
“Yes, please. And I will never tell a soul, promise.”
Her expression dissolved into a soft, shy smile. “Here you go, Mr. Madison. Gate fifty-nine, row thirty-seven, seat B.”
“You’re a doll.” He winked at her, took the pass, and raced to the security checkpoint.
~
The latest Newsweek in his hand, Owen stuck his change into his pocket and was about to leave the store when someone body-slammed him hard enough for him to drop his magazine. Shocked by the alarming contact, he was about to reach down to retrieve it when the man had already done so. Standing straight, Owen looked directly into the wicked smile of the sex god he had been pining over for a week. “Taylor!”
“Hello, beautiful.” Taylor handed him the magazine.
Owen took it, trying to get over the surprise. “I can’t tell you how glad I am you’re on my flight…wait. You are on my flight, right?” Owen began fumbling for his ticket.
“I am.” Taylor stopped him, touching his arm. “I’m even in the seat next to you.”
“How did you do that?”
Taylor looked around, grabbed Owen’s arm and dragged him to the men’s room, which happened to be nearby. Once inside, Taylor gave the cavernous space a once over and pushed Owen into a stall.
Falling backwards from the manhandling and unsure of what Taylor was trying to accomplish, when Owen found himself straddling his legs over an open toilet, he reached out for the walls of the stall to steady himself. Shutting the door behind him, Taylor went for Owen’s lips and gripped the back of Owen’s head for a good, sexy, passionate kiss.
On contact, Owen ignited. Throwing the magazine down on the floor, Owen wrapped around Taylor’s body and embraced him tightly. That tongue, that glorious masculine tongue was seeking his tonsils it was so aggressive. The taste and scent of Taylor was making Owen’s cock so hard it was painful. Losing his breath from his excitement, wondering how many cameras were focused on their necking, since everyone was caught having sex in the men’s room of airports lately, Owen parted from that kiss and gasped for air. “Look, Taylor…”
“Don’t.” Taylor stopped him again.
“Why won’t you let me say what I need to say?” Owen tried to keep his voice down but he was exasperated.
“Because I don’t want to hear it.”
His expression going blank, Owen felt crushed. “But…” he stammered, trying to gesture in secret sign language that he needed him, even if Taylor wouldn’t let him say it.
~
Taylor could hear men coming and going around them. Toilets and urinals flushed, voices echoed. If he had to endure Owen telling him how he couldn’t get involved because of his girlfriend back in his house in LA, Taylor knew he’d be completely crushed. “We can’t stay in here. Let’s grab a drink.”
Owen agreed, nodding for Taylor to open the stall door.
Wanting one last kiss before he did, Taylor cupped Owen’s face and licked at his lips and tongue, causing Owen to groan in longing. Pulling back, seeing Owen’s eyes closed and the expression of euphoria on his handsome face, Taylor sighed and opened the door. He didn’t care that they both came out of the same cubicle. He’d never see these people again. Making sure Owen was in front of him, Taylor followed O
wen out after Owen had picked up his magazine and left the bathroom.
Walking silently side by side, Owen gestured to the same bar they had drank in previously.
Once they had drinks in their hands and were sitting at a table for two with a view of the tarmac and planes, Owen asked, “Why won’t you let me talk? Please, Taylor.”
Taking a deep swallow of the draft beer, Taylor set his glass down and replied, “Because it’ll kill me, Owen.”
Owen tilted his head, a perplexed expression on his face.
After another long drink from the beer bottle, Taylor said, “Fine. Okay? Fine. Go ahead. Tell me all about the fricken female you’re shacked up with. Go on. Tell me all about how you can’t have a male relationship because she’ll find out about it. Go ahead. I’ve been expecting it. Shoot.”
Owen appeared stunned. About to top off his wine glass with the miniature bottle he had in his hand, he stopped mid-pour and gaped at Taylor in amazement. “You…you…”
“Me? Me?” Taylor replied in fury. “Yes, me! Remember me? The guy who’s nuts about you and knows he can never have you?”
Without realizing it, Owen splashed the wine all over the table. When Owen finally noticed the running spill, he set the bottle down and looked helplessly for something to wipe it up with.
In complete frustration Taylor stood and went to ask the bartender for some napkins.
~
When Taylor had left the table, Owen was so stunned he couldn’t believe what he had heard. As the wine ran in a slow stream down the corner of the table, to drip, drip, drip onto the tile floor, Owen tried to believe it. In his head he muttered, “Did he just say, ‘The guy who’s nuts about you and knows he can never have you’?” Nuts about me? Taylor is nuts about me?
