The Boys of Banana Court: Box Set

by Alex Carreras

  “When I fantasized about doing this,” Isaac began, “I never imagined it being this good.”

  Mohammed chuckled. He reached down and slid his cock out of Isaac. “Promise me something.”

  Isaac looked over his shoulder, a film of perspiration glistening across his forehead. “What’s that?”

  “When you want another sexual fantasy fulfilled, I’ll be the one fulfilling it.”

  A lazy smile slid over Isaac’s handsome face. “That I can definitely promise you.”

  Chapter Six

  Isaac crept into his house. The last thing he wanted to do that night was have yet another conversation with his parents about his bleak future if he didn’t transfer schools the next year. Shouldn’t that be my decision? According to Sandra and Samuel, it was theirs. After closing the front door, he wondered if he could hold his breath and run up a flight of stairs and down the hall to his bedroom without passing out. He was willing to give it a shot, anything it took to dodge his parents. He took in a deep breath, and when his foot hit the first step, he heard his mother call out his name.

  “Isaac.”

  Exhaling, he punched the air, cursing under his breath. What a rotten way to end the perfect evening, Isaac thought as he walked to the living room. He tapped the doorjamb and looked into the half-open door. He blinked into the dim lighting of the room. Isaac always entertained the idea that his mother was half bat. Once inside, he looked around the room, which some might consider cozy but he considered claustrophobic.

  “How was work?” Sandra asked. She was sitting in an antique floral chair, her legs tucked up under her and a hardcover book lying open on her lap, a pillow tossed on the floor. Her eyes looked groggy as she peered over reading glasses that could use a cleaning.

  Isaac wondered if his mother truly cared how work went, but there was no point in giving her a rude retort. “Good. Non-eventful.”

  “Do you consider that to be good?” Sandra obviously didn’t have an issue with giving a rude retort.

  “Most people would.” But she was not like most people. “Where’s Dad?”

  “He’s already in bed.”

  “Still suffering from carb overload from this morning?”

  Sandra looked at him funny.

  “The pancakes,” Isaac reminded.

  “Just tired, I presume.” She was never one to joke. “He has a long day tomorrow, as do I.”

  Isaac watched as Sandra removed her glasses and, with a sigh, rubbed the bridge of her nose with thumb and forefinger. She looked tired and older than her forty-one years.

  A feeling of concern for his mother washed over him. “Are you okay?” He rushed over to a chair beside her. “You would tell me if you or Dad were sick?”

  Sandra lowered her hand and looked through narrow eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic.”

  “So, you’re not sick?”

  “Do I look sick?”

  He wanted to answer her honestly but thought better of it. “You look tired.”

  “That’s because I am. I’m tired of worrying about you.”

  Isaac laughed derisively. “Me? Why?”

  “Do you really want me to answer that?”

  “I’m doing well in school. I’m gainfully employed. And as I just found out, my parents have their health. There’s nothing to worry about.”

  Her sigh was longer this time, and it filled the room.

  How can a sigh be so loud? Isaac thought, as he waited for his mother’s next barbed or unsolicited comment.

  It seemed that dark shadows washed over her eyes, coloring them a deep grayish blue. Her once tight jawline looked flaccid.

  “Sweetheart,” Sandra began. “Your father went to bed because he didn’t have the strength to have this conversation. He was always good at burying his head in the sand.”

  “Well, please let him know when it’s safe to pull it out.” Isaac stood abruptly, urgent to get out of the room and away from his mother.

  “Whether you like it or not, you won’t be going to that school next year. It’s below you, and you’re jeopardizing your future. Why is it so important that you stay?”

  “Mom…” Isaac wanted to bury his head in the sand too.

  Sandra uncurled her legs and sat on the edge of the chair. “I’m listening.”

  But are you really? Isaac figured he had nothing to lose by explaining the major reason why he didn’t want to transfer. He looked down at his mother but did not sit. “I’m not ready yet. I like it in Sarasota. My friends are here, I feel comfortable. I know the streets and the stores and the beaches. If I go, I won’t know anything. Every aspect of my life will be new.”

  “But how exciting.”

  “You say exciting, and I say scary.” He shifted his weight from foot to foot and ran his fingers through his hair. He hated spilling his guts, especially to his mother. “And what if I totally mess up school and waste your money and really mess up my life. Being the big fish in a small pond is underrated.”

  She angled her chin and squinted. “Are you sure it has nothing to do with whoever gave you that mark on your neck?”

  Isaac’s hand flew to his neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You didn’t have that when you left for work this morning, so somewhere along the way, you got a love bite. And you said you had an uneventful day.”

  “Can we not talk about this mark on my neck?”

  “So, you are admitting to it then.”

  “No,” he spat back in frustration. “Maybe it’s dark in here, or maybe you need your eyes checked or both.”

  “If you don’t want to leave Sarasota because of some silly boy, I will be greatly disappointed.”

  “I told you why I don’t want to leave. Were you even listening?”

  She fluttered her hand absently, an act of dismissal. “Everyone feels that way once or twice in their lifetime, but you have to take the jump. Do you expect to stay in this house forever? No offense but I eventually want to sell and buy a condo on the beach. I’m sick of maintaining a lawn. It’s cumbersome.”

  “What’s cumbersome is this conversation. I tell you how I truly feel, and you flick your hand in the air, roll your eyes, and basically tell me to get over it.”

  Sandra’s eyebrow arched and a shoulder lifted. “Fly, baby bird. Fly.”

  “I’m flying, alright,” he hissed, “to bed.”

  Hot tears of frustration spilled down his cheeks as he ran out the room and up the stairs, taking them two by two. Once again, he felt more like his mother’s patient or science project rather than her son. She was mistaken if she thought that opening himself up to her was a simple and natural act. It was just the opposite. She never made him feel loved or nurtured in any way. She was cold and always had been. The first thing he did when he got in his room after switching on the light was race to the mirror over his dresser to survey the damage.

  Fuck. Isaac had never seen a hickey that big in his life.

  He wiped away the tears with the backs of his hands, his frustration turning to embarrassment as he examined the yellowish purple bruise that would no doubt be the topic of conversation with his friends for the next few days. Unlike Sandra, he did have a sense of humor, and when he began to laugh, he was thankful that he recognized the humor in his current situation.

  * * * *

  Mohammed had a problem … and he was called Isaac.

  On the drive home from the mall, all he could think about was Isaac’s smooth tatted skin, his sinewy body, the perfect amount of chestnut hair on his defined chest, and those hazel eyes that appeared to want him, understand him, and forgive him all at the same time. He almost blew through a red light just thinking about the golden flecks that surround his irises. Yep, I definitely have a problem.

  After letting himself into the building and walking up the short flight of stairs that led to his apartment, he caught a scent of a perfume that reminded him of Emma’s, no doubt left behind by his neighbor who shared her love of the inexp
ensive but still nice fragrance. It was youthful, exuberant, and playful, much like Emma. He loved Emma in his own way, but he wasn’t in love with her, two very different things. He kicked himself for even thinking of her now. As he always told himself in the past, having sex with Emma and having sex with men were not connected, the latter a carnal need that he refused to give up especially since Isaac came into his life. As he unlocked the door and switched on the light on the wall, doubt began to settle inside him and the nagging questions that poked at him whenever he cheated started to rattle around in his brain. What if Emma ever finds out? And if she does, would it destroy her?

  “Of course it would,” he mumbled to himself, shutting the door behind him. That was the last thing on earth he ever wanted to do to her. Stop it! Shut the fuck up, he battled internally. Don’t ruin this night.

  But it was too late. The deed was done and now the dread set in.

  He was no better than a self-loathing alcoholic full of regret after a bender, except for him, there was no twelve-step program to attend or expensive Malibu retreat that promised a successful recovery, making his life all better. He had to cope on his own, which he was used to doing … but for some reason, it was getting harder and harder to do just that.

  He tossed his keys on the coffee table and stripped off his clothes in the middle of the room. He couldn’t wear them any longer. They smelled of sex.

  As he waited for the water to warm in the shower, he refused to look at his reflection in the small bathroom mirror. He didn’t have the strength to look into the face of a liar. Only after standing in the shower for far too long, so long that the water ran cold, did he begin to feel like a man in control of his senses.

  When he closed his eyes that night, it was Isaac’s arms he wanted wrapped around him, not Emma’s. And when he woke the next morning, he dreamed of sharing his bed with Isaac, having breakfast with Isaac, getting ready to go to work with Isaac, having a life with Isaac.

  Not Emma.

  Chapter Seven

  Isaac stalked through the doors at IGNITE still reeling from the conversation he had last night with his mom. She was impossible. Unbelievable. And on some level … right.

  He knew he had to come to the realization that one day he would have to move. Most people did. But did it have to be so damn soon? Couldn’t it wait until after he graduated college? A degree, is a degree, is a degree, and Isaac saw no difference in where he got one from, but his parents were not convinced, and they were the ones who needed convincing. Hopefully, after an hour of cardio and an hour of weight training, the exercise would offer some much-needed clarity. Also, having Josh as a workout partner wouldn’t hurt either. He was always a good sounding board and never judged too harshly. His parents had been less than pleased with him after coming out, moving out, and getting a boyfriend so he understood how shitty life could be when one’s parents were being dicks. For Josh, things were improving with his parents, Isaac was happy to know. But it was still slow going since they were the type of Christians who believed that homosexuality was a cardinal sin.

  After swiping his gym identification key card at the front desk, he nodded a few quick “hellos” to a couple of guys he knew from Banana Court where Mitch and Josh lived. They were lucky to have that place, and he would be living there too if folding T-shirts paid a bit more. It didn’t.

  “Hey.” He turned to see Josh sidling up. He appeared bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and ready for a workout. How annoying.

  “Hey,” he returned with less enthusiasm. “You look cheerful.”

  An all-engulfing smile overtook his lips, his white teeth catching the bright lights of the gym. He looked like a Crest commercial. “It’s because I am. Darius surprised me with breakfast in bed this morning for no apparent reason. He said it was because he loved me.”

  Isaac was genuinely happy for his friend. “That’s nice. You’ve found a great guy, and he found one in you.”

  Josh’s smile lessened. “Speaking of cheerful. You’re not looking that way.”

  When Isaac had texted Josh asking him to meet at the gym for a workout, he didn’t go into specifics about his “fuck session” in the dressing room with Mohammed or the disappointing conversation with his mother.

  Isaac pointed to the row of treadmills. “I’d feel better if I told you this while burning fat cells.”

  Josh followed as Isaac found two side by side that afforded a somewhat private conversation.

  After a few minutes at a fast-paced stride, he was able to unload. “I let Mohammed fuck me at work.”

  Josh stumbled and grabbed the side railings to steady himself. “I knew it,” he hissed. “I knew you wouldn’t stay away from that guy.”

  “You saw him?”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “We did it in a dressing room.”

  “Hope you cleaned the mirrors afterward.” They walked a few strides more. “But something tells me that is not the reason you’re upset.”

  “Mom keeps nagging me about transferring. Says I’m wasting my life at the community college. Do you think I’m wasting my life?”

  “Of course I’m going to say no since I go to the same school.”

  “She’s hooked on me attending a northern school, one that carries clout.”

  “And a massive price tag.”

  “My parents have offered to pick up the tab. How can I say no?”

  “Simple. N—O,” Josh spelled out. “Not that hard to do.”

  “They don’t seem to understand that word. I hear myself saying it, and they keep ignoring me.”

  “I can see your dilemma.”

  “What would you do?”

  “Since we’re here doing this, I can assume that you’ve done the heart-to-heart soul-baring speech already.”

  Isaac pushed up the incline and lengthened his stride. His tank was beginning to stick to his chest and back, and he was ready for a good sweat. “Deaf, deaf, deaf. Old Sandra didn’t hear a word.”

  Josh matched Isaac’s incline. “You can crash on the couch if you want. Maybe you need a few days away until the air clears?”

  “Thanks, but I don’t want to run away from the problem.”

  “That’s very adult of you.”

  “What choice do I have? If I don’t either cave or move out, they are going to keep nagging, and I’m going to keep on bitching. I don’t want to bitch anymore. I’m tired of it.”

  “I’m sorry,” Josh offered. “I wish we had an extra room you could rent.”

  “Yeah, I do too.” Transitioning to a slow jog, Isaac said, “Let’s talk about something more pleasant.”

  Josh chuckled. “What, like dick?”

  “Is there anything more pleasant?”

  “Not in my book.”

  “Mohammed has one heck of a biggie, and the boy knows how to work it. I’ve never had sex like that before. It was … magical. Out of this universe kind of magical.”

  Josh went from a walk to a jog. Sweat rolled off his face, dampening his sinewy neck and chest. “I know what you mean. I had the same experience after eating my buttered toast this morning.” Josh hummed adding a smile. “Darius can do things to me that make my eyes roll back in my head.”

  “Mohammed does this thing with his tongue. Zero to sixty in seconds flat. Honestly, I was a little embarrassed because I couldn’t hold it any longer.”

  “Sounds nice.”

  Reliving the details in his head, Isaac said, “It was.”

  They kept in stride, losing themselves in the workout.

  “Now what happens?” Josh asked, breaking the momentary silence.

  “Secret lovers? Fast fucks when Mohammed can find the time?” Isaac mused. “I’ve never done this before, so I don’t really know what to expect.”

  “Try not to get too serious. Have fun with it. Don’t get caught up in the whys and hows.”

  “Would you be fooling around with a straight guy who has a girlfriend?” Isaac was afraid to hear Josh’s answer, but deep down
he wanted to know the truth.

  There was a look of hesitation on Josh’s face, a furrowing of a brow or a hint of a twisted lip. “It’s hard to say.”

  “Is that you saying that you don’t want to tell me?”

  “No. Not really. I can understand the appeal especially with a man who looks like Mohammed. Not a lot of strings. Good sex.”

  “But?”

  “I like the strings,” Josh admitted. “I like the good sex too, but I definitely like the strings.”

  Isaac nodded involuntarily. He was genuinely surprised by that. He kept telling himself that he didn’t want attachment right then. He had too many things to achieve before settling down. Hell, he needed his own place to settle down in! So why did he nod?

  “I’m not ready for that yet,” he said. “I’m sure I will be one day but not now.”

  Josh’s sideways glance said he was skeptical.

  “I have enough on my plate,” Isaac said as convincingly as possible.

  “Yes, you do but don’t add to it by taking on something that will cause it to overflow. As I said before, closeted dudes can lead to loads of trouble. Make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  “I know. You’re right,” Isaac said. “And I will.”

  Isaac heard himself saying the words, but he was having difficulty believing them.

  * * * *

  When Mohammed got the phone call from his mom asking him to have lunch, he started to get nervous. And suspicious.

  She was the type of woman who preferred her own cooking to restaurant food, so there was definitely an ulterior motive. But what?

  He didn’t have the heart to refuse her invitation. He also didn’t have the heart to rake her over the coals when she extended it. He simply agreed to lunch. She even chose his favorite hole in the wall that had little to offer in décor but had sweeping views of the Gulf of Mexico, and the grouper sandwiches weren’t too bad either.