by GA Hauser
On the contrary. He was very attracted to a man at the moment. This man. The one whose voice was sending chills up his spine.
“They’re so young. I feel like a perv,” Tyler said.
“They are. But I bet older men were drooling like that over you when you were their age.”
“Yeah. I know.”
Jordon paused, watching another athlete’s slow-motion replay. Jordon tried to think carefully before he asked the next question. Screw it. He just dove in. “You… uh, prefer young men? Like the gymnast?”
“No. Not at all.”
“It said on your MySpace you’re twenty-eight. Is that up to date?”
“It is. I got a friend request from you, and I assume your brother. Bryan Buck?”
At the mention of his brother, Jordon frowned, then watched the young athlete’s perfect dismount.
“Oh, that is so hot.” Tyler had obviously caught the performance as well.
At Tyler’s enthusiasm, Jordon laughed softly. “Yes, Bryan’s my brother. Look, ignore Bryan. He’s a flighty pain in the ass.”
“Why on earth would him being a pain in the ass have anything to do with me?”
“In case he emails you, you know.”
“Check the next guy out. What do you think?”
Jordon looked up at the television. “Nice deltoids.”
“Christ…”
Jordon whispered, “Ya got your hand down your shorts, Mr. Holliday?”
“I’m restraining the desire. They’re too frickin' young. I had nightmares about older men attacking me in my youth. I can’t do it to them. Anyway… we digress. I assume you want to talk to me about the date I left on your answering machine.”
Disappointed by the change in topics, Jordon gazed in awe at the man on the rings as he imagined him and Tyler doing some gymnastics of their own, horizontally. “Yeah. Uh, she’s game for the one that’s a week early.”
“Good.”
“And she wants me to get started on the other crap. All that’s important to her is the menu and her dress.”
“Check him out. He’s going to get a ten. Look at that replay.”
Jordon did. “They never give Americans a perfect score. It’s all rigged.”
“What a cynic!”
“Come on. The host country will win. You watch.”
“Remember Mary Lou Retton?”
“In Los Angeles. No Eastern block countries. I rest my case.”
“You are right… shoot, look. Nine point seven five.”
“Told you.”
“Why am I the only one selected as your MySpace friend, Jordon?”
“What?” Jordon’s skin crawled.
“Your site. I’m it. Except for that Tom guy who’s on everyone’s.”
“I just set it up. I’ll get more friends.” Jordon’s forehead break out in a sweat.
“Not even your brother is on it.”
“He will be. I just haven’t gotten to him yet.”
“But you got to me.”
No. You have gotten to me, you fantastic man. “You must rate.”
“I must.”
“You’re the one who said yes. You could have said no.” Jordon was in heat. This was fantastic. Flirting! He couldn’t remember the last time he flirted with someone he had the hots for.
“I did. I don’t say yes to everyone. But you were special.”
“Was I?”
“Yes.”
“Why was I special?” Jordon had one hell of an erection, and unlike Tyler, he wasn’t sure he was going to resist handling it.
“You didn’t judge me because of my past.”
“Why would anyone do that?” Jordon stroked himself, his shorts pulled back around his balls.
“You’d be surprised. It’s one of the reasons I’m in this present line of work.”
“Really?”
“Yes. No one will hire me.”
“That’s insane.” Jordon stood, walked to his bedroom, picked up the photograph he had printed, and brought it back to the den with him. He much preferred the sight of Tyler to the young boys on the pommel horse.
He placed it where he could admire it and resumed his stroking.
“I know. Unbelievable. I suppose if I knew then it would make such an indelible black mark on my resume, I may have reconsidered.”
“You were so young, Tyler. Eighteen.”
“Shh… I was sixteen. Don’t tell anyone.”
“Christ. That’s horrible.”
“That’s more like the comments I’m used to.”
“No! No, not you are horrible, that someone could have exploited you at such a young age is.” Jordon stilled his hand at the topic of conversation.
“I know. I thought I was so smart, Jordon. Look at me! Aren’t I a sex symbol! What a complete moron I was.”
“Did it at least pay well?”
“No. The pay sucked. A hundred here or there.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Why should you be? Hey, I made my bed, I suppose I’ll sleep in it.”
“Alone?” Jordon had no idea why this conversation felt so familiar that he was able to relax and say things he would be mortified to have said if he had planned it.
“Sadly.”
“Why?”
After a deep exhale, Tyler revealed, “I feel like the men who are after me see me as that eighteen-year old. It makes me ill when they gush on and on about those old movies. I hear how many copies they have, how many times they’ve seen it. Makes me sick.”
Jordon suddenly realized Bryan’s tactics would get him nowhere. Good, ya fucker.
“I’ve never seen one. Nor have I the desire to, Tyler. I can’t imagine the image of a teenager exciting me.”
“How old are you, Jordon?”
“Thirty.”
“What age… uh… person… does excite you? How old is Fawn?”
“She’s twenty-six. But if I were to watch porn, which I never have yet, I think I’d prefer late twenty-year-olds to mid-thirties.”
“Me too. Can’t stand the twinks.”
“What the fuck is that?” Jordon had heard his brother use that term.
“Young, post-pubescent, blond boy bimbos.”
“Christ, no.” Jordon cringed. “I’d much prefer a mature man.”
Silence followed.
Jordon listened and wondered if the connection went dead. “Hello?”
“Did… did you just say you preferred a mature ‘man’?”
A frigid chill washed over Jordon’s skin. His dick had gone soft so he pushed it behind the material of his shorts. “Did… did I say that? I don’t think it’s what I meant.”
“Did you mean you preferred a mature woman?”
Holy fuck! It’s a trap! It’s a trap! Run away!
“Uh, anyway, I guess we need to meet again and decide on the photographer, invitations, flowers… you know.” Jordon sat up on the couch and caught some spectacular leaps over the vault still showing on the television. Twinks playing gymnasts.
“Yes.”
“So, uh, anytime good for you, Mr. Holliday? What’s your event planner look like?” Act casual. Breathe. No need to panic.
“Let me see. Hold on. It’s in the other room.”
“No problem. Take your time.” Jordon imagined him stark naked. Bet you have a big dick and long, soft testicles, Mr. Holliday.
“Right. What’s good for you? Lunch? After work?”
“I eat lunch at my desk. Not lunch.”
Tyler chuckled. “Stockbroker,” he said with a deep, serious voice, “eats his lunch at his desk while he share trades.”
“You teasing me?” Jordon grinned. How much did he adore this man? Huh? How fucking much?
“Yes. I’ve never met a stockbroker before. Do you stand on the floor of the New York Stock Exchange, screaming and waving like a madman?”
“No. I sit very civilized in an office and click computer keys with a phone wire wrapped around my head.”
> “Exciting!”
Jordon loved this banter. He’d never exchanged any like this with Fawn and found it infinitely appealing. “And you, Mr. Wedding Planner? Any better? On the phone liaising and negotiating on the price of posies?”
“Ouch!”
Jordon cracked up. “Gotcha.”
“Hey, if you can get me an audition with a talent agent, I’d be modeling, believe me.”
“You’re certainly good looking enough, Tyler.”
“Yeah?”
Jordon kept putting his foot in it. Was he coming on to this man or not? Or cock teasing like poor Adrian always accused him of?
“Am I?”
“You need me to tell you?” Jordon’s cock went rigid again.
“I’ve never had a thirty-year-old stockbroker tell me I was good looking.”
“I suppose it’s about time.”
“Can I ask you something?”
Uh oh. Jordon froze. “I’m not sure.”
“I won’t, then.”
Damn! “What… what was it about? The wedding?”
“No.”
“Olympic twinks?”
Tyler roared with laughter.
Jordon brightened up at getting a rise out of him. If just making him laugh felt this good, giving Tyler an orgasm would be out of this goddamn world.
“You learn very quickly, Mr. Buck.”
“Yes. I am a fast study.”
“Back to our meeting. Okay, lunch is out. You mentioned dinner once… uh, that still on offer?”
“Only if it’s my treat.” Christ, was this a date? It was playing out like a first date.
“Pick a night.”
It sounded so sensual, Jordon was dizzy. “Tomorrow.”
“I like your assertive attitude, Mr. Buck.”
“You obviously also like my name.” Jordon couldn’t be more amused.
“Buck. It sounds very manly. Stags, bucks, studs…”
“As opposed to Holliday, which is right out of a Truman Capote novel?”
“Damn, you are so cruel.”
He heard the smile in Tyler’s voice. “No. I’m a nice guy. Honest.”
“Nice and honest? I have to admit I haven’t met many of those.”
“I’m sorry.” And Jordon meant it. “Tyler, I can’t imagine being judged so harshly on something I did at sixteen. If we were all held up to the same scrutiny, which of us wouldn’t be ridiculed?”
After a pause, Tyler whispered, “Thank you, Jordon.”
“No need, Tyler. As far as I’m concerned, you are the man you are today. Not the twink you were at the tender age of sixteen.”
“Fifteen, shh, don’t tell anyone.” Tyler laughed
Jordon hoped he was kidding. “Fine. Where were we? I can’t keep track. You keep distracting me.”
“Growl!”
Jordon’s hair stood up on his neck. What the fuck? “Did I say something controversial again?”
“No. I’m playing with you. Don’t I wish! Uh, hmm. Okay. Tomorrow… want to meet in the lobby of your building? You mentioned a restaurant.”
Playing with me? Don’t I wish? Augh! I’m dying here!
If they had dinner in his restaurant, that meant they had immediate access to a private bedroom. Oh, dear. Was that wise?
When Jordon didn’t reply, Tyler did. “No? Shitty food?”
“No. Good food. Sure.”
“Six?”
“I… I usually work out first.”
“Me too. Where do you go?”
“There…” Jordon grew clammy and his stomach tightened. “There’s a gym in my building.”
“Nice. Hey. I got an idea.”
Jordon shivered, knowing the idea was going scare the bejesus out of him.
“Why don’t we work out together? Do they do guest passes?”
“Yes.” Jordon was going to faint.
“Cool. If that’s okay. We could get our workout in, then enjoy dinner after. That would give us plenty of time to get everything done.”
Oh my fucking God.
“Is that okay? If you’d prefer we didn’t--”
“It’s okay.”
“Good. So what time to do you get to the gym?”
“Right after the market closes.”
“And that is?” Tyler laughed.
“Four.”
“Four. At four-ten, I shall be waiting for you in the lobby, ready to go.”
“I’ll have to change.” Jordon was so nervous he was shaking.
“Okay. See you tomorrow at four-ten, Mr. Stockbrocker Jordon Buck.”
“Yes. Tomorrow.” When he hung up he realized they’d been on the phone for twenty minutes. He couldn’t remember a conversation that long with Fawn.
Fawn. Fawn who?
Jordon grabbed the naked photo of Tyler, shut off the television, staring at the photo. He turned on a light, closed the door of the den, and stripped naked. He splayed out on the couch, and once again fisted himself with that tantalizing photo of his wedding planner, while Tyler’s voice and flirting playfulness was still rebounding in his head.
He was surprised at how quickly he brought himself up to a climax. Jordon had usually struggled in the past, and it was one of the reasons he didn’t masturbate very much.
He peeked down at the spray of creamy puddles on his chest, along with the printout of the fabulous Mr. Holliday, and put two and two together. Only the equation didn’t make him happy.
“This is getting habit forming. That is so not good.” He set the paper aside. “What am I doing to myself? Going into heat over this guy? While I plan my fucking wedding?” Jordon’s head dropped back against the sofa cushions. His temples began to throb with the decisions he would face if he allowed himself to continue jerking off to the image of this man.
Complicated didn’t even begin to describe what it would become. Hell, more like.
He moaned and promised himself, once again, no more. He stood, wobbling as he caught his balance. Jordon dragged his heels to the bathroom to clean up, cursing himself for making such a mess of his life when the plans had all been set for his future.
Chapter Six
The next morning, in a world of his own, Jordon woke up when an arm poked through to part the elevator doors. “Hello, Adrian.”
“Jordon.” Adrian stood beside him, smiling.
“You almost missed me. You’re slipping.”
“I am. You were right about one thing though.”
“Was I?” Jordon watched the numbers light in succession.
“Your brother is beautiful.”
“Oh? Found him?” Jordon grinned.
“His MySpace. What a pretty, pretty boy.”
“He’s twenty-seven, Mr. Tripp.”
“Simply a figure of speech, Mr. Buck.”
They exited the elevator, walking side by side down the corridor. “I emailed him. Is he good about corresponding?”
“I assume so. Will he see a photo of you?” Jordon paused at his own office.
“Of course!” Adrian batted his lashes.
“You’ll get an email in return, Mr. Tripp.”
“I’ll keep you posted, Mr. Buck.”
They parted ways. Jordon removed his jacket and hung it on his door, thinking about Adrian and Bryan hooking up. “Not a bad match.”
Anything is better than you vying for Tyler’s attention, little brother. Good. Go get him, Adrian. Get him and keep him busy.
***
The afternoon flew by as the Dow made a late rally and the NASDAQ closed on the rise. Jordon shut down his computer, straightened up his desk, and removed the wire from around his head. He checked his watch.
“Shit.” He jumped to his feet and made his own late rally, grabbing his suit jacket and hurrying down the hall to the elevator.
