by Nya Rawlyns
Damn those water and boat metaphors. It was time to recognize them for what they were … excuses.
Jack was working two jobs, neither paying squat, while dealing with what he saw as failures instead of having the time to explore his options. Building a solid business plan to take to the banks, hitting on the commercial realtors, checking out locations. Jack had once been hugely successful. He’d been on the fast track to the kind of fame most chefs never came close to. He’d had his own restaurant and the reviews had been glowing. Jack Lambert had the chutzpah to take on a volatile market and the talent to turn patrons into repeaters and word-of-mouth fans.
Jack stirred and stretched. Alan shivered as cool air skimmed the warm spot that had cradled his lover’s head.
“You awake?” Jack’s voice was a rich baritone, like a silky smooth chocolate ganache. Decadent, sultry, sexy as hell. “Be right back.”
Alan admired the view as Jack headed for the bathroom. Tall and lean, he had the build of a cyclist with zero body fat, muscles clearly defined and veined under thin skin. The man was built for stamina, in bed and out. That thought left Alan grinning.
“What are you smiling about?”
“Nothing.” Everything.
Instead of sliding next to him, Jack straddled his body. “I don’t have to be on campus until noon today.” He waggled his eyebrows. “And you still owe me.”
“Owe you what?” Alan knew the answer to that. Instead of waiting for Jack to reply, he dug his fingers into the man’s thighs and urged him forward. His lover’s cock bobbed temptingly close to his mouth. Jack hissed as Alan’s tongue teased the tip, flicking along the prominent vein as his fingers massaged the flesh on Jack’s inner thighs.
“Shit, man. That feels so damn good.”
Jack slapped his palms on the wall and braced as Alan swallowed the thick length, his tongue vibrating and gorging on a taste and scent he couldn’t get enough of. Relaxing his throat, he took as much as Jack would give him, letting his lover set a punishing pace as springs groaned under the onslaught, and grunts echoed and tailed into a howl of pleasure. Sweet and salty, hot and heady with the scent of musk, the cum plummeted down his throat and leaked out, dribbling down his chin. He sucked hard, extending the moment until Jack panted, “Get inside me. Now, dammit,” the words a symphony of agony and lust.
Jack rolled onto his hands and knees, still shuddering from the violence of the orgasm. Alan spread the cheeks and stroked his thumbs along sensitive flesh, massaging and flicking at the pucker with blunt nails. Jack groaned and reared back at the first penetration, a forefinger slathered with his own cum, then two, and Alan worked at the opening, scissoring to relax it.
Alan pressed Jack’s shoulders into the bed with one hand as he lubed his own aching cock, the gel punishing like ice on hot coals. The quiver in his loins gyrated in sharp stabs, descending along his thighs in a slalom rush to his toes. Whatever control he possessed, it wouldn’t last long.
Licking at the cum still coating his lips, he gently eased the head of his cock into the pucker, retreating and advancing, until the muscles surrendered. The tight, white hot channel gripped him, owned him, devoured him. He withdrew, nearly to the tip, and whispered, “How do you want it?”
Jack groaned, the sheets fisted in his hands. “Slow. I want to fucking beg for it.”
“Christ, Jack. I can’t make any promises…”
“Then, move. Just. Move.” Inhaling on a sob, he begged, “Please, love. Please.”
With blood pounding in his veins, Alan lost himself to the exquisite sensation of possessing the man he’d give his life, his everything for. Every thrust, every parry brought him closer to the point of no return. Jack’s muffled, “Unh, unh, oh, God, there… So good. Oh fuck…” drove him insane.
The slap of balls to hard muscle, musk and sex and sweat assaulting his nostrils, the death grip of his fingers mauling Jack’s flesh as he pounded to a bass beat of lust and need, it all sent his nerves into a cascade of near pain, then explosive pleasure, as the orgasm rocked him, tilting his world on its axis. Bucking and wailing his joy, he emptied his cum deep into Jack’s ass, their mutual spasms carrying them on a tidal wave of release so perfect he had no words to describe it.
Alan rolled on his side and pulled Jack with him, his cock still buried deep in his lover’s ass. Wrapping his arms around the lean body, he murmured, “I’m sorry.”
Jack pulled the blanket over them, drawing Alan’s arms tight across his chest as they cocooned together.
“You need to tell your family, Alan. There’s no disgrace in what happened.” Jack shifted so he could turn his head. He looked like a man stuck between a rock and a hard place. And Alan recognized all too well that he was the one who had put his lover there.
“Yeah, I know.” There was no harm in agreeing, although the reality of confronting his mother and the rest of his extended family brought forth the inevitable, “But…”
“But nothing. They love you. And hell, they might know somebody who knows somebody.”
Chuckling, Alan said, “That’s the problem. They do know everyone. When my sister got divorced the first time, they nearly drove her insane.”
“How so?”
“Signed her up for every singles group they could find. Even with the Methodists. Blind dates. Set-ups at the supermarket. You name it, they tried it.”
Jack turned over and faced him, a grin upticking the corner of his mouth. From what Alan knew about his lover’s family, he was no stranger to that kind of smothering.
“So what happened then?”
Alan chuckled. “By the time she was on her third divorce, Mom had turned the spare bedroom into an exercise room and was saying Hail Marys like there was no tomorrow because Esther threatened to move back in. With an infant and a five year old.”
“Esther. The one down on the Eastern Shore?”
“Yup, that’s the one. My balls-busting older sis. She’s on number four. Don’t know if it’s gonna last, but so far it looks good.” Alan glanced at the clock. His stomach growled. “Come on. Let’s get a shower and some breakfast.”
He swatted Jack’s rump and told him to go first. “You get breakfast started while I clean up and change the sheets.” When he got to the door, he stopped and said, “Shit, sorry. I forgot. Call your sister. She said anytime today is fine.”
“Great. Talk about crosses to bear…”
“They’re not so bad.”
Jack grimaced. “You haven’t met Ted, the brother-in-law-from-hell, yet.”
****
Alan was sitting in his car, staring at the stack of temp applications when Rae parked next to him. He rolled down the window and cringed. The employment agency was located in a strip mall, bookended by a pet store and a Tai Kwon Do training center, neither of which he was likely to need or use.
The petite girl leaned in the window. “Why didn’t you just tell me?” I didn’t want to impose. I was too embarrassed. My life sucks… “I thought we were friends.” Ouch, that hurt. “Friends tell friends shit like that.” Right, friends share shit.
“I’m sorry, kiddo?” She stared down at the floor of the car, waiting for a better offer. “I mean … if they share shit ’n all, shouldn’t they share a sorry?” Her middle finger flicked at the thumbnail. She was thinking about it.
Hunching her shoulders, she grumbled, “I guess.” She looked at him, green eyes gone soft, melting him like they always did. Then, as usual, her attention span leaped into another dimension. “You want to come in?”
“In.”
“I need crickets.” He gave her the look. She countered with, “For Hank?”
This was news. “Hank is … your new boyfriend?”
“Uh-huh. Well, yes and no.”
He set the sheaf of papers on the passenger seat and unfolded himself from his too-small-for-his-height vehicle. He mumbled, “When I get back on my feet, I’m buying a truck.”
“What?”
“Truck.”
<
br /> “Ford’s are good.”
“But not as good as crickets.”
Trilling a laugh, the red-haired girl entered the pet store and made tracks for a tank offering a selection of insects. Alan hung back, watching with growing concern.
While the young store clerk split his attention between snaring a bag full of bugs and eyeing the curvy frame of his young neighbor, he sidled up to Rae and said, “Um, about this yes and no. Yes, Hank’s the new boyfriend?” The “no” was bothering him, especially when he mulled over the possible reasons why anyone would purchase a bag of crickets in the middle of winter.
“Sort of. His name’s Hamish…”
The drooling clerk paused to wipe his mouth on his sleeve, his attention riveted to this unwelcome news about Hamish. Rae smiled, the young man paled. The bag dangled precariously from the kid’s finger tips. Alan rescued the cargo and suppressed a shiver. He was happy for Hamish, delighted Rae had a new friend.
But on the subject of Hank, he had questions. Questions that had to wait until the sale was completed and the “I’m Dave, if you have any problems I’d be happy to, you know, maybe help you out. I can come to your house if you want…” wound down to an awkward pause.
Alan quickly interrupted before poor Hamish got kicked to the curb. “Thanks, Dave, but we can take it from here.” He steered the bugs and his neighbor into the chilly air.
“What’s your deal, Alan? He was just being nice.”
“I want to hear about not-Hamish.”
“Oh, you mean Hank?” Yes, I do. I can’t wait to hear about Hank the tortoise, or Hank the tree frog. Not Hank, your friendly python. She smiled brightly. “He’s a beardie.”
“A what?”
“You know, a beardie?” She frowned, gave him the ‘you’re a dumb cracker look’ and stated, “Bearded dragon.”
“I don’t know what that is.” And he was fairly sure he didn’t want to be enlightened.
The problem with friends was they not only shared shit and sorry, they often had to do double duty as pet sitters. Hamish sounded like the traveling sort, someone who’d pick up at the drop of a sporran and head for the Appalachian Trail for an extended weekend adventure. With his neighbor and new bestie shit-sharing friend in tow.
That was a just guess.
“Oh no, I forgot!” She darted into the store leaving him holding the bag, literally and figuratively. When she came back out, she held up another purchase. “Hamish told me I have to gut load first.”
“Do I want to know what that means?”
“Well, you have to prefeed the crickets, get them fat or something, before Hank chows down. ‘Front loading nutrition’ Hammie called it.” She rattled the small plastic bag. “Cricket food.”
“Right.” The mention of food rang a bell. “Well, I need to get home and make dinner. You want to come over?”
Rae took the bugs and checked her watch. “Rain check? I need to figure out how to contain these…” She waved the cricket carton in the air.
“Then this weekend? Jack picked up a new slow cooker. I wanted to try it out.” He thought for a tick, then added, “Bring Hamish, too.”
Her smile nearly lit the parking lot. “That’ll be great. And I can bring Hank over for a visit so’s you get to know each other.” She hopped in her car with a, “See ya,” and drove off.
Alan took his cell phone out and tapped “bugs” onto the notepad page holding his grocery list.
The lady at the temp agency had been confident they’d find him part time work eventually, but full time was off the table. She’d made the usual suggestions: returning to school for an MBA being number one on everybody’s list. Unlike most people, he never considered himself management material. He was solitary in his habits, too opinioned to be a team player and not good with the whole delegation strategy, preferring to do it himself, whatever “it” was.
That last trait got him and Jack into a few my way or the highway situations when it came to kitchen duties, generally resolved amicably with one or the other of them bent over the counter and taking it like a man. He grinned.
For the first time since the big boss had sauntered in with a cardboard box and his pink slip, he felt optimistic. He’d been stupid to hold it in. And Jack was right. He needed to tell his relatives and suffer their concern and well-meaning efforts. They were family and that’s what family did, they shared shit.
Funny how a newly minted twenty-one year old could be such a font of wisdom.
Before he could insert the key in the door, it opened. Jack took his elbow and steered him backwards. “Um, we have company.” Alan raised his eyebrows, questioning. “My sister.”
“Oh, good. I had invited Rae but she’s got a thing…”
“And Ted.” Jack’s color had gone from normal to guilty-as-sin in the blink of an eye.
“Wanna tell me what’s up?”
He shook his head no. “Come in. I’ll let them tell you.”
Alan stared down the hall, then at his apartment door. He had a choice. Bearded dragon and front-loaded crickets. Or the brother-in-law from hell, the infamous homophobic Ted Mayer of Mayer Automotive New and Used Vehicles.
The beardie was about to win out when Jack yanked him into the apartment and shut the door securely. He might have imagined the deadbolt being thrown. Clutching his paperwork to his chest he yielded to Jack’s prodding and approached the living room, feeling much like a condemned prisoner heading for the firing squad.
Marie he knew slightly. The two kids very well, especially young Mark. Ted was a complete unknown. And if half of what Jack said was true, he’d have been content to leave Mr. Mayer an unsolved mystery. Indefinitely.
Ted stood, held out a hand. Alan had dated a linebacker once. Ted reminded him of number fifty-two. He couldn’t recall the man’s name to save his life but his jersey number? No problem. Ted Mayer was a big man, the kind who’d once been an athlete and still carried himself with power and grace. Alan could see where young Mark had gotten his height, though the kid had yet to grow into his frame.
Marie rushed into the kitchen. Alan listened to the noises of coffee brewing, cups and spoons settling on the counter, the refrigerator opening, then closing. He sat in the chair across from the couch and Ted the homophobe. Jack perched on the chair arm, close but not touching. To say the air was electric wasn’t putting too fine a point on it.
Still wearing his winter coat and clutching the job application forms, Alan waited for someone to break the silence.
“Jack, dear, can you give me a hand?” Jack darted into the kitchen, leaving a vacuum that quickly filled with menace.
Ted spoke. “I hear you got canned.”
“Downsized, sir.” Alan swallowed spit and bile. Jack had obviously spilled the beans. They’d have a talk about that later.
“Find anything?”
“No, sir.”
“Ted.”
“Yessir. Ted.”
Alan felt his mouth go dry under the big man’s scrutiny. He had no idea why he was being grilled by a perfect stranger, even if he was Jack’s family.
“He tells me you’re an accountant.” Alan took note of the emphasis on “he” instead of using Jack’s name. That set his teeth on edge enough he missed the next words out of the man’s mouth.
“Um, what?”
“I need one.” Bully for you. “An accountant. Short term. Four, maybe six months.” Ted-the-ogre sat back, crossed his right leg over his left, and raised his bushy eyebrows. “You interested?”
Desperate, Alan turned to look for Jack but he and Marie had disappeared from view, probably cowering in the bathroom while he and Ted did the thing. Whatever the thing was.
“Well? Yes or no?”
“It’s a car dealership.” Hope had blossomed in Alan’s chest. He could handle any kind of bookkeeping, and a dealership was mostly automated, with decisions based on credit scores and fudge factors that shouldn’t be too difficult to learn.
Ted waited, the window
of opportunity closing rapidly.
Alan knew enough not to say yes immediately. So he asked, “What kind of salary and benefits am I looking at?”
Ted named a figure, less than he’d been making but far more than unemployment benefits would bring in. The hours would be a bitch, but he’d been used to fifty and sixty hour weeks.
“That seems fair. When would you like me to start?”
“Come in Saturday. We open at eight. It’s slow this time of year. Give you a chance to look around.”
“Will I be working the floor?” That meant poking his head out of the office and making nice with potential buyers. Not his favorite thing but for six months, he could scrub toilets at a scout camp if it paid well enough.
“You’ll have an office. That way you don’t have to…” He looked from Alan to a point on the wall behind his shoulder and let the thought trail off. But it was clear what he was leading up to. Alan, and “his kind,” would be out-of-sight and out-of-mind until needed to wave the magic wand over credit scores and vehicle upgrades.
Marie appeared from nowhere. “Ted, dear. We need to get to the meeting. You can fill Alan in on all the details later.” She kissed Jack, squeezed Alan’s shoulder and hustled her husband out the door. How she managed to avoid tripping over her husband’s cluelessness was a minor miracle.
He and Jack sat staring at each other for a few minutes. Finally Alan said, “That was nice of Marie. You shouldn’t have said anything but I appreciate…”
Jack held up his hand and shook his head “no.” “She didn’t say anything. Ted overheard us talking. This was his idea.”
“For crying out loud, why?” Given that little hesitation about the office, it was a reasonable question to ask. Owners of car dealerships and altruism didn’t often go hand-in-hand.
“Fuck if I know.” Jack dug his cell phone out of his pocket. “Call for Chinese?”
“Sure. My treat.” There was nothing quite like feeling flush in the wallet. It might be a short term posting, but it would be enough to buy him time to figure out how to move Jack’s dream forward.
