by J. M. Snyder
“Why don’t I stay here with you? I can help out in the morning, and we can both go back when it’s squared away. I don’t have to be on campus until eleven.”
He looked down at me, his handsome face lit by the moon and stars that were starting to come out from behind the clouds. It hadn’t felt this nice out in a long time. The cool breeze was such a relief, and everything smelled clean and fresh..
“A sleep over, in my room. I would say it could be some porny dream come true if I weren’t so wiped out.”
We changed course from the truck to the house. It had been a weird and kinda scary night, but a really awesome one, too. Going through it with Marcus made me want to stay with him for a good long time. Sure we were good in bed, but just as good out of it, maybe even better.
“We’ll save the porn for another night,” I said. “Besides, after what you did earlier, I’m not sure I’ve got the stamina for more.”
Weariness crept in as I slowly climbed the stairs to the front door. After going in, we went straight to his room. It looked stuck in time from six or seven years earlier. There were posters of hot actors on the wall, some old CDs on a shelf, and a couple Dungeons and Dragons books sitting on the desk. I’d have to ask about that later. Along the back wall was a double bed, barely big enough for both of us. I suspected it was going to be nice being that close to him.
“I’m gonna grab a quick shower to get the dirt off before we crash. You wanna shower with me, or go second?”
I stripped off my T-shirt. “Let’s go together. We’ll be able to go to bed faster.”
“You gonna be okay this close to me all night? This is not a big bed.” He shucked his dirty clothes.
“It’s gonna be great, I think.” I smiled at him and he smiled back.
As I dropped my jeans and boxers he stepped up close. He kissed me deep and it was obvious how tired we were since our cocks didn’t budge.
“Remember how you said you were falling earlier?” he asked, continuing to hold me tight.
“Yeah.” I snuggled my head against his shoulder.
“I think I’ve fallen, too, so I’m going to say it. I love you, E. I’ve never met anyone like you and I’m glad we’re together.”
“I love you, too.”
After the shower, I curled myself into Marcus and he conked out fast. As I dozed off, I actually was thankful for the heat wave. While it was a nasty few weeks, without it I might not have met Marcus. While we started out just getting off in the steamy night, we ended up with something more. Something that felt like it was going to be good and hot for a very long time.
Heat Wave: Traverse City by Terry O’Reilly
“Damn!” Cameron Mitchel exclaimed at lunch as he sat in the staff lounge of the software design company where he worked. The group gathered there were watching the weather report on the news. A dorky looking weather guy, who looked like he was practicing the hula as he gave his forecast, had just proclaimed that the city’s string of ninety degree plus days with high humidity, would continue through the upcoming holiday weekend.
“What’s the problem?” co-worker, Alan Grafton, asked as he munched on a bag of Doritos. “You got something against hot summers?”
“Yes, when your A/C has been out in your condo for the past week and the super tells you it’ll be another week before they get around to fixing it, I do!”
“That’s rough, Cam. I hope they’re giving you a break on your rent,” Margaret Maxwell, another programmer added.
“Fat chance!” Cam replied. “Not bad during the week when I’m here at work, but the nights are hell, and now with the long weekend coming up. You can only spend so much time at the bars before they kick you out for loitering if you’re not buying enough drinks. Besides, I have my dog. I can’t let him suffer alone in this heat.”
“Churches are air conditioned. You could go there on Sunday,” Alan teased.
Cam knew Alan was aware of his aversion to religion, based on his overly-strict Catholic upbringing.
“Very funny,” Cam retorted.
“Why not get out of town for the weekend—go somewhere cool?” Margaret offered.
“Would be nice,” Cam said. “But funds are short. I couldn’t afford it.”
“My folks have a cabin on Horseshoe Lake near Traverse City. It’s available this weekend. Dad told me they weren’t going up, because—uh—for some reason. I forget what. Anyway, I know they wouldn’t mind if a friend of mine used it,” Alan suggested.
“That’d be great,” Cam replied. “But what about you? What are you doing this weekend? Wouldn’t you want to get up north, away from this heat?”
“I’d love it, but Jenny and I are painting the living room,” Alan said with a frown. “Ah, the joys of wedded bliss.”
Margaret chuckled. Cam smiled. Although same sex marriage was now legal in Michigan, the thought of life tied to one partner didn’t appeal to Cam very much. Much of that attitude was generated by two failed long-term relationships which had made him gun-shy. One of his lovers, Danny Richards, had turned out to be a bully, the other, Mickey O’Rouke, a philanderer. Cam had promised himself that sex would be just for that, sex alone; there was no need to add emotional attachment to the equation. Despite what his therapist told him, relationships only led to pain and heartache. But Cam had to guard himself. He fell in love easily, too easily. He often found himself in over his head by the time he realized he had made a mistake. That was how it had been with both Mickey and Danny.
Cam had met Danny at a bar, spent a weekend with him. Danny had moved into Cam’s place the next week.
Mickey was even worse. They’d met while shopping at the grocery store. Mickey had come on to Cam. They went back to Cam’s condo and Mickey never left—not until Cam threw him out.
“Well, if you’re sure it’ll be all right with your folks…” Cam said to Alan.
“Absolutely! They’re always saying it’s a shame the cabin sits empty so much of the time.”
“Oh, but what about my dog? I’d want to bring Mr. Magee. I hate to board him,” Cam added.
“No problem! They have a beagle and a lab. They take them up all the time.”
“Okay then,” Cam said enthusiastically. “Thanks, I’d love to get out of my sweatbox of an apartment for a while.”
“Go for it, man,” Alan said. “Enjoy!”
* * * *
Friday afternoon, Cam picked Mr. Magee, his tri-color basset hound up from doggy day care and was on the freeway headed out of the city in his yellow Ford Mustang as fast as he could manage. He slipped a CD into the dash player. As strains of a Barbra Streisand classic burst from the speakers, Cam leaned back and relished the cool of the air conditioning. He reached out to stroke Mr. Magee’s long ears and sighed.
“Ah, feels good to get out of the city heat, and be headin’ for the cool of Northern Michigan, doesn’t it, boy?” Cam said to the dog sitting in the passenger’s seat.
Mr. Magee turned his big head with his droopy sad eyes and floppy ears, and licked Cam’s hand.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Now, you let daddy know if you need to go and we’ll stop, okay?”
Mr. Magee lowered his head—which accentuated the folds of skin on his face, making his eyes look even more pathetic—and gave a soft woof.
Cam laughed and started to sing along with Barbra.
About an hour later, it was Cam who had to use the facilities. He pulled off the I-96 freeway into a rest stop just outside the city limits of the state capitol. This particular rest stop was long known for being a cruising area.
Cam was not interested in that aspect of the place. He just needed to pee. Cruising had never really appealed to him. As he’d gotten older he found his tastes were growing more restrictive. Not that he didn’t find men in general attractive, it was just that those that really turned him on and with whom he had the best sex, seemed to be falling into one specific category. Finding those that fit his criteria wasn’t easy, and visiting cruisey spots didn
’t often prove fruitful in that regard either. Added to that was the awkwardness of rebuffing someone who came on to you, who was never going to score, no matter how horny you were.
And hit on him was something many men did. Cam was tall, six foot four and strikingly handsome with deep-set, dark, bedroom eyes. He had close cropped, black hair, with a matching well-trimmed beard which was a shade more than scruff, and a skosh less than fully grown. He was, as what was described on the hook-up sites, a slender jock. He had well-toned, well-defined muscles, a small waist, and broad shoulders. In short—a hunk by most anyone’s assessment.
Cam pulled into a parking space and switched off the ignition. Turning to Mr. Magee, he said, “I’ll be back in a flash and then it’s your turn, okay?”
The hound gave him a soulful look.
Cam cupped the dog’s head and kissed his nose. “You’re so homely you’re beautiful.”
Mr. Magee responded by licking the man’s cheek.
Cam cracked a window, opened the door, and was hit by a blast of hot air. “Whoa. Sun’s still up. Not cooling off yet! Better turn on the A/C for you.” He pulled his backpack from the backseat and fished out his spare set of keys. He always carried them with him for situations like this. Cam restarted the car, turned on the A/C, and rolled up the window. “That should take care of you,” he said, ruffing Mr. Magee’s long silky ears. “Be right back.” He got out and locked the door.
He jogged to the structure that housed the johns and went inside, holding the door for a middle-aged woman, who gave him a warm smile and a quick once over. “Nice shirt,” she said flirtatiously.
Cam had no doubt that his sleeveless black tee and khaki shorts showed off his superior build well.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he replied. Cam could tell by her scowl his addressing her as ‘ma’am’ hadn’t pleased her. He smiled as he made his way to the men’s room.
There was only one other person at the urinals. He was short and stocky, with a slight belly. Cam estimated him to be in his late forties or early fifties. He was bald, with a good two days’ worth of stubble. He wore a dirty white tee shirt and jeans.
The man looked up as Cam entered. “Evenin’,” he said, nodding in Cam’s direction.
Cam nodded back, unzipped his shorts, and fished out his cock, which was impressive even in its flaccid state. Cam was aware the man was surreptitiously glancing his way, as well as leaning slightly backwards to get a peek at Cam’s equipment. Cam briefly thought of giving the man a little tease by slightly stroking his dick, but remembering all those awkward times at other rest stops, he decided to forego the momentary pleasure of being a bit of a tease.
As the man finished his piss, he took a half step back from the urinal to shake the last few drops from his semi-hard prick, making sure Cam had a full view. Cam could scarcely suppress a chuckle at the blatant attempt to attract him.
Just then another man entered the room. The prick teaser quickly stuffed his cock into his jeans, flushed, and left.
Ah, not a hand-washer. Another strike against him, Cam mused as he finished up and went to the sink to wash.
Walking back to the car, Cam again marveled at how the heat of the day could linger so long into the evening. When Mr. Magee caught sight of Cam, he put his big paws on the window, threw his head back, and gave out a series of long, basset bah-roos, just to let Cameron know he had missed him.
Cam opened the driver side door. Mr. Magee jumped the console between the seats and stood with his paws on Cam’s chest, licking Cam’s face furiously.
“Okay, okay, I’m glad to see you, too. But I’ve only been gone a few minutes.”
Cam gently returned the dog’s feet to the seat, then tried to slide in next to him.
“Okay, buddy, move over to your side,” Cam urged.
There was no response.
Cam then lifted the hound and deposited him on the passenger side.
“God! Magee, you are so hard to maneuver! You’re like a slinky with that long back of yours. You’d think you weighed a hundred pounds.”
Cam started the car and drove to the far side of the parking lot where the dog run was located. He pulled up next to a rusted out old Ram pickup. When he opened the door he was again hit with the oven blast of hot air.
“Come on, Magee. Your turn now! Let’s get this over with and out of this heat.”
Aware that if a basset hound catches a scent, all obedience training goes out the window, and your dog is gone, Cam attached a leash to Mr. Magee’s collar. The dog galumphed out of the car and went immediately into scent hound mode—nose to the ground and white-flagged tail wagging furiously.
“Let’s get this over with, buddy. I’m sweating up a storm already,” Cam urged as Mr. Magee dragged him back and forth across the wide lawn that served as a doggie latrine. As Cam waited for the hound to find just the right spot to leave a message that he’d been there, Cam wondered where the occupants of the old truck and their dog might be.
Mr. Magee pulled him to the edge of the manicured grass. A path led into the trees. A little pink flag went up in Cam’s mind, but since he was hot and sweaty, he decided it would be cooler in the shade of the trees. Maybe the hound would more quickly find a place of his liking and get on with the task at hand.
Two things altered Cam’s logic and convinced him this might not have been the best of ideas. First, was the swarm of mosquitoes that immediately descended on him and the dog. Second, was the presence of the guy from the john, who sat on a stump, apparently oblivious to the insect attacks, stroking his swollen dick.
Cam turned and dragged a protesting Mr. Magee from the woods. The man followed, pushing his cock back into his pants. As they reached the lawn area, the guy caught up with him and said, “Hey! Come on now. I been waitin’ for you out here in this frickin’ heat, swattin’ these fuckin’ bugs soon as I figured that fancy car with the mutt in it was yours. I could tell in the john you were interested. Bet you got as big a dong as that mongrel a yours. Mines pretty nice, too.” He patted his crotch which now concealed his nice dick.
Cam stopped. He turned to face the jerk who still stood with his hand cupping his package. “First, he’s not a mutt or a mongrel. He’s a registered basset hound.”
Mr. Magee took no interest in Cam’s defense of his honor and continued to sniff for a place to make his deposit.
“Second, you’ve got to be dreaming if you think I’d have the slightest interest in you, no matter how nice you think your dick might be.”
“Ah, you rich city guys are all alike. Think your shit don’t stink like everyone else’s, and your cum tastes sweet as honey.”
“Well, you’re never gonna find out, are you!” Cam returned. “Come on, Magee.”
Luckily Mr. Magee had finished his business and was willing to be led back to the car. However, before he hopped onto the seat, he made one stop. That was to nonchalantly lift his leg to a tire of the rusty old pickup. Cam chuckled as he and Mr. Magee drove off, leaving the truck’s driver swearing up a storm, as he tried to fend off the mosquitoes.
* * * *
The sun had set by the time Cam and Mr. Magee had pulled off the freeway and onto M-115, the two lane state highway that would take them to Traverse City. They had entered Clare County, billed by the state’s tourist bureau as The Gateway to the North. Cam smiled as he pulled into a gas station just off the exit ramp. He could almost imagine the feel of the cool northern air. So he was mildly surprised when he got out of the car to find the air was still oppressively warm, and the humidity, if anything, had increased.
“Oh well,” he said to Mr. Magee, “we did just pass The Gateway. We’re barely in the North Country. It’ll get better. I’m gonna fill up and piss, then I’ll take you for a walk.”
Mr. Magee’s tail thumped the seat.
Those things accomplished, the pair drove out onto the highway. While the heat situation had not seemed to change, Cam knew they were leaving the southern part of the state behind. Gone wer
e the rolling farmlands, replaced with dark stands of pine and white birch, which Cam could make out even in the gathering dusk. He was tempted to open his windows to see if they had indeed escaped the heat, but decided to give it a few more miles just to be sure. In the meantime he and Mr. Magee munched on the snacks Cam had purchased in the gas station’s convenience store—chocolate bars for him and beef jerky sticks for the hound.
An hour later they were driving slowly along a county road. “Keep your shirt on,” Cam said to the driver behind him, who was following right on his bumper. “I’m a tourist!” To Mr. Magee, who was dozing on the seat next to him, Cam added in a quieter voice, “I’m sure glad we have GPS. I’d never find this place otherwise.”
Just then, the mellow female voice announced, “Left turn in one half mile, Lake Shore Drive.”
Cam slowed further and switched on his turn signal. The car behind flashed its lights and pulled around to pass Cam.
“Asshole!” Cam yelled into the darkness. “Are you blind? Can’t you see I have my blinker on?”
Cam’s outburst roused Mr. Magee, who rose and yawned. He looked at Cam as if to say, “Are we there, yet?”
“Gurtie Garmin says just a mile more,” Cam said as he negotiated the turn onto the Horseshoe Lake Peninsula.
Lake Shore Drive was darker yet. It wound leisurely through the woods. Cam could just make out the dark form of Horseshoe Lake through the trees.
“Arriving at 9650 Lake Shore Drive on left,” the smooth GPS voice announced.
Pulling into the drive, Cam’s headlights picked out a small yellow cottage. Behind it was a white garage trimmed in green.
Cam turned the ignition key. The engine stopped. “Here we are,” he said looking over at the hound.
Mr. Magee stood, stretched, yawned, put his paws on the door armrest, and looked out the window, tail wagging furiously.
Cam switched off the headlights, then quickly turned them back on. The moonless night had enclosed them in almost total darkness. The only light came in pin points from the homes across the lake, and from windows in the house next door. Next door was not really a proper description, as the house was a good fifty yards away and obscured by trees.
