Spark

by J. P. Scott

  Chapter Seven

  I bolted out of bed. The day was bright and I knew instantly that I had overslept. The bathroom mirror showed me that I would need to take a shower and pull myself together—my hair was pointing in all directions and would not be tamed by a splash of water and gel. I made quick work of lathering and rinsing and repeating. Most of my clothes at the cabin were casual and stuck to blues, grays, and blacks so I did not have to make too many decisions. By the time I left the cabin, I was late but thankfully not as late as I thought I would be.

  When I entered the lobby, I expected Josh to be waiting but found emptiness and silence. The door to the back office was open slightly and I stepped to it—a replay of the previous day. I pushed it open to find Josh at the desk. He did not see me because he was leaned back in the chair with his eyes closed. He wore only his robe which fell open to reveal his rippled muscles. He was playing with his nipple with his left hand and his right hand was gripped around his cock, jerking vigorously. I could hear faint grunts from the computer, most likely the same site I had seen on the computer before.

  Josh’s breathing increased in pace and he moaned. Cum shot up onto his chest and abs. He breathed deeply and opened his eyes.

  “Good morning, handsome.” He looked down at himself and then back at me, “You’re late.”

  I blushed and he grinned. Then he turned his chair away from the desk and waved me over. “Your first task today is to clean me up.”

  I took slow, measured steps towards him, looking for a towel. Josh shook his head, “No, with your tongue.” He waved again, urging me closer.

  I leaned down and to his chest and smelled the muskiness of his morning run mixed with the smell of the cum that was beginning to run down. I licked between his pecs where the cum had pooled. With each lick I tasted him and held the cum in my mouth before swallowing and going for more. When a spot had been depleted, I moved across his chest for more. I found a drop on his nipple and teased it with a nibble. Josh arched his back. I continued to work my way down. His cock was limp but wet. I took it into my mouth, sucking and swirling my tongue around the mushroom head. He writhed again in his chair. Finally, I stood back up and licked my lips to take the last pieces of him in my mouth.

  Josh stood up as well. He looked me in the eyes, “So dirty, Alex. Today was supposed to be your day.”

  I raised a brow. My day? Just when I thought it had been a one-time thing, an impulse, it turned out that Josh had been planning our next play time.

  He grabbed my shirt and pulled me towards the bedroom. I stumbled over my feet that were slow to respond to the sudden movement. His grip was strong as he continued to pull me forward.

  “You took care of me…I figured I needed to return the favor.”

  With a swift tug my shirt was up over my head and tossed into the corner of the bedroom. He looked me up and down and ran a hand across my chest, stopping to give it a slap. “I love fur on a man.” He grabbed my sides and pulled me closer. I thought he was coming in for a kiss but he made contact with my neck instead, running his tongue up and finding my sensitive spot. I groaned and felt myself harden.

  The shock of what was happening was gone. I grabbed him as well, pushing the robe fully off his body and onto the floor. He continued to work my neck, aware of how good it felt and the reaction it was getting from me.

  Our hands met reaching for my belt. I took over and unfastened it. His fingers unsnapped the button and unzipped the jeans. I kicked off my shoes and pulled my jeans down.

  Josh growled approval and pulled me close again. My cock pressed against him and I could feel him getting hard again.

  He returned his focus to my neck and my eyes rolled back. His hands explored my midsection, caressing, and playing with the hair. His touch was electric and tingles spread across my skin as he explored.

  “Lay on the bed,” he commanded.

  I climbed on top of the comforter and propped two pillows beneath my head. At the foot of the bed Josh stood smiling, “Beautiful and willing.”

  Of course, I was willing. A hot man wanted not just a first round but a second. How could I turn that down? When he wanted it to be about me? Even better.

  He placed his hands on my ankles and put his knees on the bed between them. He slid his hands forward, massaging as he went. His eyes stayed locked with mine.

  By the time he reached my upper thighs, my cock pulsed in anticipation. I knew the tip would be wet with precum. It would not surprise me if I came quickly.

  Josh began to suck, wetting the shaft and going farther down with each bob. I put my hand on his neck, willing him to keep going deep. He knew what he was doing. I imagined what it might be like to have this waiting at home for me every day.

  I felt an intense desire to kiss him. I wanted to feel those lips on mine, to have our arms wrapped around each other, to have our legs entangled. But mostly to kiss and connect our souls.

  “Kiss me…” I said.

  Josh slowed his movement and then released me to say, “Not yet.” He began to suck again.

  Not yet? I was ready for him. Ready for him to take all of me and for me him. I wanted him and he clearly wanted me. Or did he just want my body? This was hot sex—maybe I equated it to more than it was. Did it mean something else to Josh?

  “Relax,” Josh said, “Whatever just made you tense, let it go. Enjoy.”

  He began to work his tongue down my cock and to my balls. He licked and tickled the small hairs that had grown since my last shave. He continued to move his tongue lower and towards my ass. He shifted his hands to lift me up and spread my legs farther.

  I loved to get a rim job and Josh seemed eager to give as well. I closed my eyes and moaned as his tongue worked the strip between my balls and ass.

  “Josh, are you here?” George’s voice called from the office.

  Josh let go and jumped to his feet. I rolled over to climb off the bed on the far side from the door.

  “Shit!” Josh scrambled for his robe. “I’ll be right there, George!”

  George’s cane tapped the wood floor as he moved closer to the back office. “I wanted to see how things were coming along.”

  “Things are good. Just getting a slow start to the morning.”

  Josh motioned for me to stay in the room. I gathered my clothes and pulled my shirt over my head as Josh disappeared from the room, shutting the door behind him. He must have met George in the outer office because I heard the other door close as well. Their voices were muffled and I could not make out what they were saying.

  I finished dressing and assumed Josh would retrieve me when he was done with George. I walked around the room without a purpose but needing to let out some energy that had built up but did not have a release.

  Josh’s running clothes were in a pile by the bathroom. He must have gone for a run again this morning. On top, I saw the waistband of a jock strap. I reached and picked it up, picturing Josh wearing it, lying in bed and waiting for me. Maybe each day would be a little play for us with a different fantasy played out. Not a bad way to spend the summer. After fingering the waistband, I pulled the jockstrap up to my nose and breathed in Josh’s scent, strong and pungent. The cotton was still damp. My mind flashed back to the day before. Even though he had showered, the manly scent had been present, a scent that was always there underneath any soap, a scent I wanted to bury my face in again.

  I returned the jock to the pile and stood up, uncertain of what to do or where to put myself. I would rather just walk out to the office and let George read into the situation whatever he wanted to. According to him, Josh was not gay and I had to believe he would assume I was working on something in the inner office.

  But maybe Josh was intentionally not coming out to his uncle. Not all gay men, not even ones our age and experience, were ready or comfortable with coming out to family. Everyone had a journey and I needed to respect that. I did not want to force someone to take a step they were not ready to take. If whatever this was turned i
nto more—dare I imagine relationship—then Josh would need to come out.

  I scanned the room and its sparse decorations. There was a queen-sized bed with its now rumpled comforter and pillows, one side table and lamp, a three-drawer dresser, frilly curtains over the window, and a bookcase with a dozen books scattered on the lower shelves and a framed picture on the second from the top shelf. I stepped closer assuming I would find a younger picture of George, maybe with his wife on some trips when they were younger.

  I picked up the frame and realized it was not George but Josh. He was with another man, also young, cute, and smiling. His hair and eyes were dark like mine—the style was even similar to how I wore it last year. Someone who did not know any better might even mistake it for me.

  The other man had his arm around Josh and was kissing his cheek. They appeared to be at a festival—a Pride festival, I assumed. The buildings behind them could have been anywhere. The figures in the background were mostly men but there were no flags or signs that confirmed it to be true.

  More importantly than where they were located was who was this man? A boyfriend? An ex? A friend being silly in the moment?

  Was Josh in a relationship? Far away from his lover and under stress to run his uncle’s business, managing George’s health and care, and being stuck in the middle of nowhere—what man would not seize the opportunity to play with a willing stranger?

  I had been monogamous in all of my relationships but had known couples who were open—some even recognizing the strains of being apart for extended periods of time and giving each other a pass to be with other men to take care of each other’s needs. Josh might have the freedom to play—or he might be a cheater—or he was single. I set the photo back on the shelf. The photo was not the present and could be just a bittersweet memory of good times.

  I sat back down on the bed, nervous about finding anything else in the room that might point to Josh not being available. I jerked my head at the sound of the door opening.

  Josh entered the threshold and leaned against the side of the open door. “All clear,” he said, “I waited until I saw George go into the main part of the cabin. Then I counted to ten.”

  “I’m sure he doesn’t suspect a thing. He told me I would be barking up the wrong tree with you.”

  Josh’s cheeks reddened, his confident demeanor gone, “Oh, really?”

  “I guess I have better instincts.”

  Josh picked at something in the doorframe and did not look at me. However good my instincts were, they were telling me that Josh did not want to talk about this right now. Would he ever want to talk about it would only be revealed in time.

  “I was thinking maybe I’d let you have your day back. I’m not sure there’s anything that needs to be done today.”

  I needed to be done today, I thought to myself. His tongue had been so close to exploring me. To stop now was nothing but frustrating. Watching porn and jerking off would not be the same as tumbling around naked with Josh.

  “Sure…we can call it a day. I might grab one of those file boxes from the corner. I can go through it up in my cabin later.”

  Josh still picked at the doorframe. I was certain whatever drew his focus was imaginary. “Yeah, I guess that works.”

  I stood and headed towards the door. He stepped away to let me through but kept his gaze off of me. I picked up the top box from the pile in the corner and found it heavier than I had imagined.

  “Okay then, I’ll see you tomorrow.” I left without looking back, confused. Josh’s mood had changed so dramatically. He had looked at me with intensity and hunger and now was cold. I had seen this behavior in me before—we had done the deed and either he regretted it or had only been looking to get off and did not want any personal connection. Were one of those Josh’s motivation now?

  Back in the cabin I dropped the box on a chair with no plan to touch it today. I needed to write and get some work done. Beau appeared from the bedroom. “You’re probably the best guy to hang out with anyway.”

  Chapter Eight

  Beau’s constant patience with me had earned him an extra-long walk which allowed me some time to think about Josh and his change in mood and what it meant. Nothing made sense to me about the sudden shift. If Josh was with someone already, a chat with George would not be related—George did not know Josh was gay. I had to chalk this up to Josh being like other gay men I knew—confusing when it came to sex and love.

  I did decide to make going through the boxes a priority over working in the office itself. If Josh had other chores, he could ask me to spend time in the office. Going through boxes could be done in my own cabin and with my clothes on.

  I focused on editing for the day and found a couple scenes that needed to be fleshed out with more detail. Another needed a major overhaul. I was grateful that most of what I had written did not elicit a “What was I thinking?” reaction. My last task was to send off an email to my editor to update him on my status. Next week I should have several chapters to send to him plus an overview of where I thought the novel was headed.

  As I powered down the computer, I noticed the notebook from the restaurant sitting at the edge of my desk. I flipped it open to the page where Cody had written his number.

  The memory of him finding me in the dark outside of the restaurant made me smile. He acted innocent but had a devious plan all along. There was more than meets the eye with him.

  Now what someone ten years my junior would want with me, I did not know.

  I picked up my phone and looked at my earlier test. It shows as delivered but not read. When he did read it, would he realize that I was from a different generation—no acronyms or abbreviations. I did not know what most of those were when I read them. I hoped he would not care—and also hoped he did not used them himself. More importantly, I did not want to over-text and appear foolish.

  I set the phone aside and started to put my mind around what to do for dinner. The contents of the fridge and cupboards did not inspire much but I pulled out some vegetables, ground turkey, spices, sauce, and some pasta, forming a line of ingredients on the counter. Simple, easy to make, and went well with wine. I settled on a pinot grigio and poured myself a bottle.

  I heard the phone buzz as I chopped the onion and peppers and took a peek—Cody had responded.

  I cleaned my hands and swiped to bring up the thread. He had spent most of the day at the restaurant and was on break before the dinner rush. “What are you up to?” and, “I’d love to hang out?” were his final comments.

  “Cooking dinner and drinking wine. When are you free?”

  His work at the restaurant would be the main obstacle in finding time to spend together. Molly and Jim were probably using him as much as they could to prepare for the babies. Even though I tried to keep a schedule, my work could really be done anytime and anywhere.

  I also had the option of hanging out at the bar—but that would be in front of everyone. If this was a date, we might prefer some privacy and limited interruptions by patrons who needed a beer.

  “I’m off tomorrow,” Cody texted back. “Breaks over, talk to you later.” He missed his chance to use a common texting abbreviation and he did not take it. I smiled. Everything he had sent to me was spelled out, properly capitalized, and punctuated.

  I finished the chopping and focused on the pasta, sauce, and browning the meat. Beau stared at me, sitting by my side in anticipation of some of my food falling to him. Instead, I grabbed the bag of treats from the cupboard and led him through our routine of shaking, laying down, rolling over, and speaking.

  I decided to be fancy and use actual plates and silverware for dinner. When I am by myself, I tend to opt for the convenience of items that I can toss. The wine was putting me in the mood to be a little bit more grown up. Brushing up on my manners might also be a good idea if I got company tomorrow.

  The last time I had dated anyone close to Cody’s age I had been that age. My boyfriends and interests had trended older versus younger, b
ut there had been a few times my boyfriend had been around my age. I was drawn to men that had a maturity about them. Younger guys were more insecure and adrift in life. Older guys had spent time pursuing their goals and finding out who they wanted to be and what they wanted to do.

  So, what about Cody? He was young, for sure. Still, he had confidence. Jim and Molly thought enough of him to hire him in their time of need. But what else was he doing with his life? A bartending job for the season was not much. Was he working on some other career goals? Did he have aspirations beyond a rural Arizona life?

  And did it matter?

  Chasing after men who seemed to have it all together had not really worked out all that well. I had been single for more than a year and had started losing hope. Was there room in someone’s life when they seemed to lack for nothing?

  Maybe Cody lacked direction, but it could be he was unburdened by things and could be totally open. A man set in his ways was sometimes unwilling to be that open.

  I finished the last of my meal and said aloud, “Alex, you haven’t even hung out with him yet. Calm down. Stop overthinking this.”

  I cleaned up the kitchen and put leftovers away. I topped off my glass with the last of the bottle and made sure there was another bottle chilling. I had not realized how quickly I had finished the first. Good thing I had nowhere to be in the morning.

  I took the glass out to the front porch and sat down in one of the rocking chairs. George’s second story bedroom light was on and I could see a portion of the TV. He must be settled for the night. I never knew him to be much of a TV watcher before, but now that he was not running the business there was not much else for him to do. I should go spend some time with him.

  Downstairs, I saw some movement in the shadows and the small flare up at the end of a cigarette. Josh must be smoking. I had not picked up on any signs that he smoked before—not even a faint odor. The best way to know was with a kiss—even the most vigorous brushing and mouth rinse left some signs. Everything up until now pointed to Josh being healthy—the running and the foods he wanted George to eat. Maybe it was stress bringing back an old habit. I heard the faint squeak of a screen door and assumed he had gone back inside.