Skater Boy

by Ryan Field

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, places, events and characters are fictitious in every regard. Any similarities to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Skater Boy

  Copyright©2011 Ryan Field

  His and His Kisses Edition

  Cover art and design by Dawné Dominique

  All rights reserved. Except for review purposes, the reproduction of this book in whole or part, electronically or mechanically, constitutes a copyright violation.

  Published by

  loveyoudivine Alterotica 2011

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  www.loveyoudivine.com

  SKATER BOY

  By

  RYAN FIELD

  Skater boys know how to ride better, faster, and harder, and they always get what they want.

  SKATER BOY

  When Bradley Klinger moved to the little town of Mt. Saint Hope in upstate New York, he never imagined that a twenty-one-year-old in a hooded sweatshirt would follow him home one night on a skateboard. He was forty-five years old by then but said he was in his mid-thirties and no one ever questioned him. His brown hair was still thick and wavy. His voice still soft and smooth. He worked out daily and watched what he ate, holding onto whatever youth he had left.

  Before he moved, he donated all of his loose-fitting polo shirts and his “dad” jeans to charity. He stopped using words like “dungarees” and “underpants” when he went shopping for new low-rise jeans and tighter T-shirts. He wasn’t denying his age. And he wasn’t planning to buy a skateboard and get a tattoo. But he wasn’t ready to look and sound like an old man yet either.

  Mt. Saint Hope was a quirky town, stippled with art galleries and trendy boutiques. And it was at the foot of the Berkshires, within driving distance from Manhattan. Some people moved there because of the scenery, some moved there because of the artistic surroundings. But Bradley decided to move there mainly because Mt. Saint Hope was that rare mix of quiet small-town living with a large gay community.

  On his first Sunday morning in town, he went for a proper brunch at a local gay restaurant called Marlow’s. As he waited for his food, he noticed the young owner of Marlow’s, Jared Branford, standing near the kitchen door.

  His head went up and his eyes opened wide. Jared reminded him of the young man he’d always wanted to be (or could have been). If you stood them both side by side in a dark corner and dressed them in the same baggy clothes, they could have been brothers.

  Jared’s head went up, too. He kept looking over his shoulder in Bradley’s direction, smiling and nodding. Eventually, he walked over, patted Bradley’s shoulder with his wide palm and said, “Hey, buddy, you’re new here, aren’t you? I’m Jared. My partner and I own this place.”

  Bradley’s lips turned down. He hadn’t planned on the fact that Jared might have a lover. Bradley lifted his head and forced a smile then he cleared his throat and said, “Ah well, yes. I’m Bradley. I just moved into town.” He had trouble finding his voice; it sounded shaky. And when he lifted his hand to shake Jared’s, he almost knocked over his water glass.

  “Where are you from?” Jared asked, looking him up and down. His eyes were dark brown and his lashes long. But there was nothing feminine about him.

  “I just moved here from Brooklyn,” Bradley said. He didn’t go into detail though. He’d been the only child of elderly parents with many health issues. He’d never actually had a career. After college, he’d spent his days caring for his parents and overseeing the apartment houses his family owned. His sexual encounters had been in dark cruise spots, and he’d never had a real lover or life partner.

  “I’m from a small town south of Baltimore called Martha Falls. I haven’t been here in Mt. St. Hope for long, but I like it. The scenery’s great.”

  Bradley had a feeling Jared wasn’t just talking about the mountains and the lakes. “Yeah, me, too,” he said, smiling. “I needed a change, and this place spoke to me.”

  “I’m glad you decided to move here,” Jared said. He looked at the entrance. A large group of rowdy lesbians walked up to the desk and asked for a table. “I’ll stop back before you leave. I have to get to work now. We’re getting busy.”

  Bradley sat up straight and smiled. “I’ll be here.”

  Bradley couldn’t stop smiling through the rest of the meal. Jared looked like one of those young guys he saw walking around in packs, carrying skateboards and tossing cigarettes into the gutter. He didn’t look like a restaurant manager in his baggy short pants, which fell below his slim waist and rested on his hipbones. His shirt was two sizes too large and hung from his shoulders. The front of the shirt was tucked into the buckle of a wide, studded belt, and part of his underwear was showing. He wore a black baseball cap on his head and bulky shoes on his feet. Though his shorts were long, Bradley saw that Jared had shapely calves covered with a fine layer of dark brown hair. When Jared wasn’t looking, Bradley stared at his legs and inadvertently puckered his lips.

  * * * *

  Mt. Saint Hope was a small town; people talked. Over the next week, Bradley heard Jared was the lucky twenty-one-year-old lover of a sixty-year-old multi-millionaire from Manhattan. People said the restaurant was a toy, just something to keep Jared busy while the wealthy lover worked in New York all week. Jared drove a flashy Bentley Continental to go to work in a restaurant where everyone else drove either a pickup truck or a beat up Toyota. He always dressed as if he were going outside to ride his skateboard, and when he passed other gay men in town, he had a tendency to look in the opposite direction.

  * * * *

  When Bradley returned the following Sunday for brunch, he and Jared joked around with each other, passing flirtatious comments back and forth as if they were the only two people in the room. Bradley smiled and sighed when he watched Jared lope from one table to the other. The way Jared’s back pockets moved when he crossed to the kitchen door caused a sensation between Bradley’s legs that he hadn’t felt in years.

  Jared’s fingers were long and thick, with knobby knuckles and wide, flat nails. Unfortunately, the food in the restaurant wasn’t that great. But the broken hollandaise sauce on the eggs benedict, the burnt English muffins and the stale coffee tasted better than any food Bradley had ever eaten, as long as Jared served it to him with his large, rough hands.

  Jared Branford was every sexual fantasy Bradley had ever pictured. When Jared brought him the check at the end of the meal, Bradley praised the food as the best he’d ever eaten. He raised his hands and pressed them together as if he were about to give a blessing, and said, “This was great. Really. Loved everything.”

  Jared put his arm around Bradley’s shoulders and leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek. “You’re a sweetheart,” he said. “I know this place is still a work in progress, but it’s nice of you to say it was good.”

  * * * *

  Bradley thought about Jared all week. While he masturbated in the shower, he fantasized about dropping his pants for Jared, bending over the restaurant table, and spreading his legs as wide as they would go. He imagined wrapping his naked legs around Jared’s tight waist and running his fingers through Jared’s shaggy brown hair. When he came, he licked his fingers clean, pretending he was licking Jared’s fingers.

  * * * *

  The next Sunday morning, they started talking about movies they loved. When Bradley mentioned he was a fan of zombie horror films, Jared pulled out a chair and sat down at his table. “I love horror films—can’t get enough of them,” Jared said. “My favorite is this ol
d zombie movie called ‘In This Our Day,’ even though I haven’t seen it in ages.”

  “No way,” Bradley said. “That’s my favorite, too.” He lowered his voice so it wouldn’t carry over the lunch crowd. “The zombies are real hunks.”

  Jared laughed and reached beneath the table and squeezed Bradley’s leg. He smiled and said, “I like talking like this, man. We should hook up and watch some movies sometime.” His voice was deep, with a rough, raspy tone, an unexpected bonus for a guy with such tender eyes.

  Bradley spread his legs wider and took a short breath. Jared’s hand was sliding up his leg, and he didn’t want him to stop. He wanted this skater boy’s hand inside his pants. “When I come in next Sunday, we’ll set up a time,” Bradley said. “I have a collection of movies you’ll love.”

  Despite this promise, Bradley was apprehensive about going back to the restaurant the next Sunday. There was, after all, almost twenty-five years between them. Bradley wanted to make sure that Jared wasn’t playing games with him. And Jared never talked about his older lover. The odds were that Jared would either forget all about it or pretend that it had never happened. When he’d been Jared’s age, that’s probably what he would have done.

  * * * *

  On Thursday night, Bradley met a few friends for dinner. When he drove back to his condo and pulled into his assigned parking spot, he got out of the car and locked the doors. As he crossed toward the sidewalk, he heard a peculiar sound from across the street. The noise reminded him of scraping hollow plastic against the pavement.

  In the shadows, on the other side of the parking lot, a dark figure wearing a hooded sweatshirt was riding a skateboard in circles. He was agile and knew how to handle the skateboard. Bradley assumed it was a man; the guy’s long legs were slightly bowed and his loose jeans fell against narrow, masculine hips. The guy’s hands were in his pockets and his head pointed down. Bradley felt something move between his legs. All the furtive encounters he’d had in the past with anonymous young men came rushing back. His heart started to race and his breathing increased. But he wasn’t taking any chances either. In the past, his encounters had always taken place in known cruise areas. This was his home.

  He clicked the door locks again and the car alarm sounded twice. The guy in the hoodie jumped off his skateboard and started walking toward him. He loped with large, heavy steps, carrying the skateboard under his right arm. When he reached the middle of the parking lot, he said, “Hey man. It’s me, Jared.” His voice was low and soft. The right side of his angular face went up and he smiled.

  Bradley took a deep breath and said, “Why on earth are you lurking around in the dark like this. I was almost ready to pull out my gun and shoot.” He didn’t really carry a gun, but he wanted Jared to think he did.

  “I looked you up and figured I’d stop by and see if you were home tonight,” Jared said, shrugging his shoulders. He lifted his arm and waved a DVD jacket. “I bought a copy of ‘In This Our Day.’ I figured I’d stop by and see if you wanted to watch it tonight.” Then he motioned toward the other side of the parking lot and pointed to his Bentley. “I hope I parked in the right place. I don’t want to take anyone’s parking space. My car doesn’t exactly blend in well around here.”

  Bradley hesitated. His mouth opened halfway, and he stared at the DVD. He looked at the car and said, “You’re fine over there. It’s for visitors.” Then he looked at the skateboard and said, “You’re very good. I saw some of your moves.”

  Jared shrugged. “I used to complete when I was kid.”

  Bradley rubbed his jaw. He knew Jared was twenty-one, but he still looked like a kid. “I see.”

  Jared crossed toward him and smiled. “Can we go inside and talk?” He had an innocent expression; his eyebrows went up and his lips turned down. There was a thick layer of stubble on his face, as if he hadn’t shaved in a few days. “You know I’m not just here about a movie.” He reached down between his legs and adjusted his crotch.

  Bradley could see the outline of a large dick swing back and forth. Bradley tilted his head and pressed his lips together. He suspected there wasn’t much innocence left in Jared. Then he said, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Your lover might not like it.” This was the first time that Bradley had mentioned Jared’s older lover openly. Though Bradley had never had a lover of his own, he despised infidelity.

  Jared laughed and said, “You’ve been listening to too much gossip around town. My partner and I are just very good friends. He can’t get it up and there’s no sex between us. In a way, I’m like an investment for him. He’s always wanted to own a restaurant but never had the time to do it. And in return, he’s giving me a chance to learn the restaurant business. He actually put the place in my name, but no one else in town knows that.”

  Bradley rubbed his jaw. “Ah well,” he said, “But what would people think? You’re much too young for me.” Then he turned his back and walked toward his front door.

  Jared reached for his arm. He grabbed it and said, “But I am a man, in case you haven’t noticed.” He scratched his dick and laughed. “I’m all man.”

  Bradley pulled his arm back and squared his shoulders. He looked down at his shoes and rubbed the back of his head. “I notice everything about you, just so you know.”

  Jared blinked and his head jerked. “We really need to talk,” he said, “It’s important. And what I have to say is the reason why I’m lurking around in the dark like this. You might not want to hear it, but I can’t keep it inside much longer.” His voice went up with a slight lilt, and he lifted his arms in surrender.

  Bradley took a short breath and said, “You can come in for a minute. But not for long. I have a busy day tomorrow.” He didn’t have any plans, but having Jared at the house made him nervous, and he wanted to have an excuse prepared.

  Jared followed him down a narrow brick path. They passed well-manicured gardens and perfectly pruned shrubs. Bradley liked order and neatness and perfection; this place had it. When he unlocked the front door, Jared was standing so close he could feel the younger man’s warm breath on his neck.

  Bradley crossed into the front hall and led Jared toward the living room, his favorite room in the house, with warm earth tones and a few Italian antiques. The large urn beside the hearth, used to hold split wood, was sixteenth century. Bradley preferred a Tuscan style to stark and modern. But what Bradley loved the most were the Diane Arbus photographs on both sides of the fireplace. They were out of character with respect to the overall design of the room, but Bradley liked quirky things, too.

  “Have a seat,” Bradley said. He sat down on a chocolate suede sofa that faced the limestone fireplace. Bradley had been told that the sofa was an exact copy of the one Coco Chanel had used in her Paris apartment.

  Jared removed his hood and sat down on a persimmon club chair beside the fireplace. His legs were long; he had to spread them wide to get comfortable. But he didn’t waste time. Jared looked into Bradley’s eyes and said, “I’m extremely attracted to you. I’ve been watching you from the first day you walked into the restaurant.” Then he ran his large hand through his thick, brown hair. He rubbed his chin and said, “You’re the only guy I’ve ever been so honest with, man.”

  “Why me?” Bradley asked. “You’re young and handsome and fucking hot. Why on earth would you be attracted to me? There must be hundreds of other guys with skateboards who would be willing to be with you.”

  Jared sat back and shrugged his shoulders. “Because I like you.” He stared directly into Bradley’s eyes and smiled, then he boldly pulled off his hooded sweatshirt and said, “And I want to get into your pants. You have a hot ass.” He lifted his arms in surrender and shook his head. “I’m honest. I’m an ass pirate. I could feed off an ass like yours for days.”

  Bradley’s eyes opened wide and he laughed. He straightened his back and folded his hands on his lap, trying not to stare at Jared’s body. Jared’s naked, hairless torso was long and firm; his lanky stomach m
uscles led to square chest muscles. He wasn’t a body builder, but there wasn’t an ounce of flab or loose skin anywhere.

  Then Bradley stared into the fireplace and said, “Well, to be honest, I like you, too.” Bradley wasn’t sure where to look anymore. He wasn’t sure what to do or how to respond. He’d been dreaming all his life about young men just like Jared. But no one had ever made his heart beat so fast, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about all this.

  There was an extended moment of silence, and then Jared stood and crossed to the sofa where Bradley was sitting. He lined his crotch up with Bradley’s lips. “Pull down my zipper. I know you want to.”

  Bradley stared at Jared’s crotch. He gulped and said, “I thought you wanted to watch a movie.”

  Jared leaned forward. He rubbed his crotch against the side of Bradley’s face. “We can watch the movie later, man. Pull down my zipper, and put my dick in your mouth.”

  “I don’t know about this,” Bradley said. He took a deep breath and inhaled. “You’re very young. I could be your father.” He was staring at a Diane Arbus photo of young twins from New Jersey, but he could smell the strong, masculine aroma coming from between Jared’s legs. It was tweedy and damp.

  “I’m a man,” Jared said, “I know what I’m doing, and I know what I like. We’re both grown men who are attracted to each other, and there’s nothing wrong with that.” He reached down and cupped Bradley’s chin with his hand. His long fingers massaged Bradley’s jaw.

  Bradley sighed and opened his mouth. He stuck out his tongue and licked the front of Jared’s jeans. He pressed it against the large bulge in Jared’s crotch and took a deep breath. Jared’s dick was already hard; it jerked a few times.