Night Shift
by Azalea Moone
Copyright © 2013 Azalea Moone
All Rights Reserved
Cover art by Erin Lark Designs
Smashwords Edition
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, events, and locations are fictitious or
are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons or events, living or dead, are
entirely coincidental.
This file is licensed for private individual entertainment only. The book contained
herein constitutes a copyrighted work and may not be reproduced, stored in or introduced
into an information retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means
(electrical, mechanical, photographic, audio recording, or otherwise) for any reason
(excepting the uses permitted to the licensee by copyright law under terms of fair use)
without the specific written permission of the author.
Dedication
Thanks to Erika Lindsen, and all the peeps at M/M Critique Group
Night Shift
by Azalea Moone
Part One
Blowing snow flickered in front of the headlights, piling up on the hood and the
ground below. I shut off my lights and the side of the building went dark. The flurries
appeared as little ghost flakes falling around the car.
It was going to be a long night. I glanced at the clock on the dash board, waiting for
eleven so I could start my shift. Working graveyards at a convenience store in the middle
of nowhere sucked. Why the hell they kept the place open 24/7 was beyond me, but this
corner shop was the only stop either way on the highway for fifty miles.
There were nights we’d get busy, mainly weekends when local softball teams came
through. Truckers would stop in too, and a variety of travelers and drunks. But early
weekdays were the pits. Tuesday and Wednesday nights were normally dead, worse still
when it was snowing and the roads were slick.
Driving here in the few inches of snow had already been a chore and it was bound to
get worse.
Eleven o’clock. I pulled my jacket tight and threw open the door. The wind threatened
to seep though my sleeves, straight to the new Celtic sun tattoo on my forearm. I’d been
so damn careful with it, applying fresh lotion and a gauze strip earlier, so I rushed in the
door not wanting it to dry out for a second.
The familiar chime of the door sounded above me and I quickly peeled off my coat
once inside. Carly smiled from behind the counter.
“Just in time, Brandon, like always.” She snickered. “Get your ass back here, I wanna
go home.”
“Careful out there. It’s getting bad,” I said, heading to the back counter. I threw my
coat over the edge of the backroom door and folded up my long sleeves.
“I figured. You’ll have to put some salt down.” She motioned to the five gallon bucket
underneath the counter full of driveway salt, and I rolled my eyes. “We’re also waiting
for the delivery truck that’s running late.”
“In this blizzard?”
“Driver got hung up in Jasper, but he called and said he’d be here within the hour,”
she said while grabbing her coat.
Great, as if this night couldn’t get any worse. Truck usually never came while I was
on duty. That was an evening event that Carly or someone else handled. But the company
did have a lousy track record. They’d been late once before about three months ago and I
remembered needing to take inventory at midnight while we got hit by a local volleyball
team. And, damn, what a jerk that delivery guy was.
I sighed and slipped the bright red store apron around my waist and secured my name
tag to my chest. “Anything else?”
“Um, no. Just don’t forget to stock the bathrooms.” She smirked and I groaned,
knowing the bathrooms were rank from the backed up sewer again. One thing I couldn’t
understand was why the sewer always backed up during a storm. Rain or snow, it didn’t
matter.
Once I grabbed my register drawer from the office and checked in, she disappeared
into the office. I heard the keys jangle, the door to the safe creak open, and she was back,
zipping up her coat and putting up her hood.
“Well, have a great night.” She waved with a smile.
“Ha ha, very funny.”
“Hey, you never know, you might get some people coming in from the cold.”
“Yeah right. I’ll probably just clean something all night.”
Carly gave thumbs up. “Sounds good. I’m sure Sue wouldn’t mind if she came in to a
clean store in the morning.”
Haha, Carly.
I returned the most pleasant smile I could, like I really wanted to clean, and gave her
a quick wave goodbye as she skipped out the front door, the bells jangling behind her.
Damn, what was I going to do? Watch the snow fall outside the glass door? There was
no way cleaning would take a whole night. Inventory would only take about a half an
hour—marking the boxes with dates, crossing them off the list, making sure we received
what we’d ordered. Most of the computer work was our boss’ job. I’d have to make
coffee around three or four—not like anyone would drink it. Then, clean the sick-ass
bathrooms.
I maneuvered around the counter to the backroom and adjusted the in-store radio. No
way was I listening to country music all night. Besides, who would give a crap if no one
came in? After tuning in the metal station, and listening to the brief weather warning,
“Winter storm warning has been issued for the following area—“, I strolled back to my
spot at the register and leaned back against the counter.
Headlights turned into the parking lot. They grew closer past the gas pumps, and
parked out front. A woman and child hurried out of the car and into the store.
She shook off the snow from her coat and blew out a whistle. “Jeez, it’s horrible out
there.” She looked up at me. “We’re headed west, here. Know where the nearest hotel
is?”
“In Jasper, about fifty miles down the road,” I answered.
I could hear her cussing under breath. She cupped her son’s hand in hers, said a quick
“Thanks,” and walked him towards the bathrooms.
Man, I hope they don’t stink too bad.
The toilet flushed and muffled talking followed. Another pair of headlights turned
from the highway and into the lot, stopping next to the gas pumps. Ding, ding.
I hit the switch to turn on the microphone. “Need to prepay.”
A low pitched huff in disappointment followed. I couldn’t blame them. I never liked
prepaying either, but it was a requirement this late.
The guy ducked his head, bundled his coat around his waist, and came inside.
“Fifty on pump five,” he groaned, throwing crumpled bills on the counter. Then, he
grabbed a bag of chips from the front display. “Make it forty five.”
I rang up the sale and clicked the button to let him fill up. He was out the door in an
instant. The beep sounded that he’d filled his tank to the amount he’d paid and, after a
moment, he was gone.
“Mommy, I want candy.” The kid was tugging on his mother’s coat as they came out
of the bathroom.
“Not this late. We need to go, Timothy.” She wrapped her hand around his and led
him to the door. After zipping up his coat and hiding his head under the way-too-big
hood, she smiled up at me. “Thanks a lot.”
“Be careful out there. Roads are getting pretty bad. They’re closed past Jasper.”
“Yeah, I heard that on the radio report. Well, thanks.” She turned, opened the door,
and left with child in tow.
She escorted him to the passenger side of the car, when my attention was drawn to the
thickness of the snow coming down. Drifts had already piled up on the sidewalk and the
lot. Snow blew and fluttered sideways. The sign on the corner of the road flopped around
with the wind. It howled against the windows and door. Wow, I hadn’t even noticed how
awful it’d gotten in the last fifteen minutes.
Hope they make it to Jasper okay.
I’d known it was going to be a slow night, but I hadn’t thought the storm was
supposed to get this bad around here. The highway had gotten darker, lonelier—ghostly. I
could almost imagine how slick it was now. There was no way the delivery driver was
that crazy.
If only I could just close up and go home. In this weather? I’d have to sleep on the
benches in the front of the store, or cuddle up on boxes in the back until morning.
I stifled a yawn and drummed my fingers on the countertop to the song playing on the
speakers. Be nice if I could crank up the music a notch or two.
A glance of the clock on the wall overhead read 11:45. Fifteen more minutes and the
truck should be here. I grabbed a wet cloth and wandered away from the register to the
condiments stand. Suppose I could get a little bit of cleaning done until the delivery
showed up—if it did at all.
I wiped at a sticky pop stain next to the machine. Then, at a pile of sugar near the
coffee pot. I clicked the machine off while I was at it. No use wasting electricity on
something no one would drink. A little less than a cup was left in the pot, so I grabbed a
Styrofoam coffee cup. Sugar. Cream. I stirred the liquid with a straw and took a sip.
Damn, it’s old.
Oh well. I slurped at it while cleaning underneath everything, singing the tune that
was playing on the speakers in my head.
Wiping off the nacho cheese machine, I cringed to the irritating sound of a horn
honking, not once but three times, at the back of the building. I threw the towel on the
counter and pushed open the door into the back room. “Finally,” I said, opening the heavy
delivery door.
The truck motor hummed, parked too damned close to the building, rattling its back
fender and license plate. I grabbed my clipboard, ready to take inventory as soon as the
driver was ready.
Come on, what’s taking so long?
It took a while—was the guy even alive in there?—before the truck’s engine shut off.
The driver’s door slammed. Boots crunched and left prints in the snow as the driver came
around the side of the building.
“Hey, sorry I’m so late. Got stuck in Jasper. The roads are horrible,” he said.
“As long as everything is here, I’ve got no problem with it.” I kept my eyes on the
inventory sheet, taking note of what we ordered so I didn’t get confused.
The driver chuckled. “Yeah, well, if anything’s missing, take it up with my boss, eh?”
Same jerk off as always.
He peeled away the hood from over his head. I expected to see the same asshole I
remembered from three months ago, but he looked different. I swore up and down he
used to be this skinny little bastard. But now his face was rounded, stocky, with a
trimmed goatee on his chin. I’d almost wanted to ask what the hell happened. The black,
bulky coat looked awkward on the outside, but being unzipped, I could see the outline of
a chiseled chest underneath that work shirt.
He didn’t move. Just returned my curious gaze.
“You gonna start bringing everything in?” I asked, motioning with the pen to the
truck and taking my eyes away lest I say what was really on my mind.
“Yeah, man.” He cleared his throat and turned around.
He unhitched the back door on the truck, sliding it up until it latched. Once he jumped
inside and out of sight, I released a sigh. He was the same delivery guy as before; I could
tell by that visible shit-eating attitude—that I don’t give a fuck ‘bout nothing posture of
his. But how the hell does someone physically change that much in only three months?
He slid a long ramp from the back until it hit the snow. The ground was even there,
but he still jumped out of the truck and adjusted the ramp until it was steady to the snow-
covered concrete. Then, he disappeared again.
The thump of boxes followed next. I meandered to the back of the truck, shivering at
the cold air—damn I wish I remembered my coat—as he piled boxes on a dolly with
ease.
I didn’t even notice the ache from my tattoo until I started to shiver. Go get your coat,
dummy… But I stayed there, eying him as he bent down, grabbed a box, and hefted it on
top of the others. After the third large box, he pulled back the dolly and began down the
ramp.
I could barely catch the labels on the boxes because I was too busy studying him. Be
better if I waited until everything was unloaded anyway. Once he left the pile of boxes
right inside the door, he passed by with his dolly, and I caught the flash of a name
embroidered into his blue work shirt.
“James?” I said aloud. Damn.
“Yeah?” he answered back from inside the truck.
“So.” God, I had to think quickly. “Have any other deliveries tonight?”
“Nope. My last one.” He stepped to the edge of the truck with his piled-high dolly.
“But I don’t know if I’m going to be able to make it back to the warehouse with the roads
the way they are.”
“Yeah.” Desperate to look away, I focused on the inventory sheet and pretended to
check things off with my pen instead. “You gonna go on to Sommersville, then?”
“Road’s closed in Sommersville, too. We’re like the only area that’s not getting hit so
bad,” he said as he passed by me again.
“Unbelievable, huh? So what are you gonna do?”
He stopped and shrugged, his baggy coat rustling. “Dun know. Stay in the truck, but
there’s really no where to sleep in there.”
True. That wasn’t exactly a big rig he was driving.
“Why don’t you guys close up on nights like these?” he asked, and it’d taken me a
moment to realized he was back in the truck.
That was a very good question.
“I wish. But the company thinks we’d benefit by staying open rain or shine. Or
snowing to beat hell.”
“Yeah. Sounds like where I work.” He passed by with another load of boxes. After
leaving the pile on the floor, he stopped and casually wiped his brow with the back of his
hand.
“Have you been working for them long?” I muttered, unable to pull my attention
away from him as he yanked up his sleeves and they bunched up around his elbows.
“About a year and a half.” He turned in curiosity. “You?”
“A year.” I hid behind the clipboard, checking the list for the millionth time.
“Cool.” The dolly creaked and the ramp thumped as he walked back into the truck.
There was more pounding inside. The truck shook as he loaded up his dolly for the
fifth time, then he wheeled it back down with only two boxes this time. “Well, that’s it.”
He pulled the dolly out from under the boxes and disappeared up the ramp.
Leaving his dolly inside the truck, he jumped to the ground, scooted the ramp back
into the truck, and pulled the rope to close the door with a slam.
“You don’t mind if I hang out here for awhile? At least until the road crews come by,
do you?” He secured the lock on the sliding door.
I stood stock still a moment, pondering his question. It’d be an awfully long night as
it was without any customers. And I was sure that old, small truck couldn’t handle well
on the snow.
“I guess—“
“Great. Ring me up, Brandon.” He slapped my arm, then slipped his coat off and
threw it on top of the boxes he’d just piled up.
“Wait.” I dropped my clipboard next to his coat.
He sauntered right into the store, barely giving me time to close and lock the back
door. When I caught up to him, he was already at the condiments counter, bitching about
the empty coffee pot.
I circled back around to my spot at the register and crossed my arms. He pulled out a
big fountain soda cup from the display. Leaning over the countertop to fetch a straw,
muscled arms went taut as he reached across the counter for a lid. His long legs stretched
in faded blue jeans.
Good God, he has a nice ass.
If I wasn’t at work, and if I’d known the guy a little better, I may have jumped him by
now. Turned him around and asked, “What the hell happened to you?” before pressing
my lips to his.
“Where’s the pisser?” he asked, coming up to the register.
Nice attitude fella. To hell with that thought.
“In the back,” I answered coldly—hoping he’d noticed it too—and rang up his soda.
He threw a couple dollars on the plexi-glass countertop and walked back to the
bathrooms.
Damn, I forgot to clean them. Fuck that, he wasn’t that good looking. Hope he chokes
on the sewer smell.
The faint sound of whistling came from the back. Making his change and setting it
back on the counter next to his drink, I wished I’d never agreed to let him hang out. Who
knew when the road crews would be around? With the county’s fiscal crunch, they might
not even clean up the roads until morning. Hell, I’d be stuck with this guy until then?
The toilet flushed, more whistling, and he opened the door with a scowl. “Damn,
man, it stinks back here.”
I tried to hide the laugh, but couldn’t. “Yeah, our sewer backs up.”
“Could have told me.” He was back at the front of the store, pocketing his change and
sipping his drink. He glanced around at the gum and candy displays on the front of the
counter, reached down to pick up a pack, read the label and put it back. Then, he stifled a
yawn.
“You’re not gonna pass out on me, are you?” I snickered.
“Shit, kid. What are you, five years younger than me?” he chided, then added, “If I do
I’ll just crash on your shiny floor here.”
“I don’t think so, old man.”
He turned his back to me to look around the store, and though he still had that shit ass
attitude, I couldn’t help but glance up and down, taking note how that blue short-sleeve
twill work shirt hugged his chiseled back, the tattoo on his right arm snaking out from the
hem of his sleeve, and another tattoo at the base of his neck that read “Allyson.”
“Who’s that?”
He tilted his head, peering at me with intense eyes. “Who’s who?”
“Allyson? The tattoo on your neck—“
“My daughter.” He sauntered to the benches in the back of the store. Plopping down
at the furthest one, he flipped open yesterday’s newspaper and hid himself.
I must’ve hit a sore spot.
“Got it done when she was born,” he said from behind the paper. “She’s with her
mom now.”
“Ah. You two—“
“Yeah. Divorced six months now.”
I glanced at the gauze covering my healing tattoo. I couldn’t imagine tattooing
someone’s name on myself. Of course, I never had a someone to care that much about.
“Sorry to hear.”
“Are you kidding me?” The paper crinkled and James glared over the top of it.
“Fucking cheatin whore. I’m just lucky I never tatt’d that bitch’s name on me.”
And there it was. Of course, why have the name of your ex tattooed in permanent
black ink?
He unfolded the paper further, hiding completely behind it now. Sipping his drink, he
went silent and I took that to mean no more conversation for now.
I glanced up at the clock. 12:45. The weather report sounded over the speakers and
with a brief look out the window, it had gotten worse outside.
Taking the quiet moment, I turned and shuffled the cigarette packs in their case,
bringing them all to the front of their rows and taking a mental note of how many packs I
needed to replace. Carly had left me one other job, full cartons of cigarettes that needed
to be restocked.
Half way through, James began to whistle and hum something completely off tune.
The paper rustled again and he suddenly went silent. I hadn’t turned around, only kept
stocking.
“What the hell is this shit that’s playing?”
“Music,” I answered.
“Well it sounds like shit.”
“What do you want to hear, then?” I stood and faced the benches. He was staring up
at me, the newspaper back on the table.
A smile spread on his lips. “This channel’s fine. I just hate this whiny ass song.”
I rolled my eyes and went back to stocking. This guy was going to get on my nerves.
Part of me couldn’t wait until he passed out.
Silence followed despite the music overhead. Minutes later, I heard his footsteps
around the store. Looking over my shoulder, he was at the magazine rack. He picked one
up and flipped open the pages.
I finished stocking the last cigarette pack, my knee bumping the bucket of ice melt as
I straightened my spine. I should shovel the sidewalk and put salt on. He would be okay
alone, wouldn’t he?
He didn’t look the type to steal and my register was locked, the office door was
locked. The back door—unless he wanted to steal what he’d just brought in or something
from the shelf.
I grabbed my coat from the door and slid it on, taking care not to bend the gauze on
my arm, then picked up the bucket. “I’m going to go shovel the walkway out here.”
He waved over his shoulder. On my way out, I grabbed the shovel by the door and
went to work.
After a few scoops near the entrance, I was already tired. Damn wet, heavy snow. I
stopped to catch my breath and peered inside. James was still where I’d left him, reading
over that car magazine with the half-naked woman on the cover.
I scooped some more, taking brief time-outs to look him over. Okay, so I was making
sure he wouldn’t steal anything, but part of me was also checking him out. I should ask
him if he works out or something.
What’s your secret?
That’d be lame of me, wouldn’t it? And I trusted him just a little too much, leaving
him in the store like that. I had to finish shoveling and salt everything down before going
back inside, though, or it’d never get done.
I sped my pace, scooping snow until my arms and back screamed at me to slow down,
but I’d already finished that part. Next was the bucket of salt. I splattered heaps full onto
the slick sidewalk around to the side of the building.
The salt crunched under my shoes as I headed back to the front and glanced into the
windows. He was gone. Maybe the sunglass display was in the way, but when I tilted my
head, looking past it, I still didn’t see him.
Quickly, I threw open the door.
Where the hell had he gone?
His boots sounded on the floor and I spotted the top of his forehead on the opposite
side of the shelves.
“Done already? How’s the weather?” he said from behind the potato chip rack.
“It’s shitty.” I sighed and brought the snow shovel and still heavy bucket back inside.
“Won’t be surprised if no one comes in tonight.”
He huffed and went back to tinkering with things on the shelves.
When I went back to my spot behind the counter, I eyed him between the shelves with
the magazine in his hands. Why was he standing? Maybe it helped him stay awake. I
know when I first started this shift a year ago, I had to keep up with work so I didn’t fall
asleep. Now, I couldn’t even think of sleep until dawn.
I dropped the bucket off near the counter and fetched a bowl of hot water from the
coffee machine to soak the pop machine nozzles. I figured I could get a lot of the stuff
done I’d usually saved for later. Nozzles would need to soak for at least an hour while I
reorganized store shelves and cleaned the nasty bathrooms.
Footsteps sounded again. He’d sauntered back near the benches and I went back to
my spot behind the register as he scooted into a bench closer to the door. I couldn’t help
but wonder why he kept moving around. But if he wouldn’t stop that, I may not ever get
any work done.
He’d hidden his face behind the car magazine, humming another tune different than
what was playing overhead.
I breathed. Okay I need to get stuff done.
“My name’s not really James,” he said suddenly, stopping me mid-step.
“Huh? What is it then?”
“Jamie.”
“Okay.” I stepped towards the shelves. “And?”
“I know what you’re thinking, that’s a chick’s name, right?”
I shook my head—though the thought did cross my mind—and knew he couldn’t see
it from behind the magazine. “No. Some guys have names like that.”
He closed the magazine and set it on the table, hands folded on top of it. “Yeah? I’ve
never met another Jamie from around here.”
I shrugged. “I’ve only met a couple other Brandon’s. Who cares, man? It’s a small
town.”
He narrowed his eyes and smiled. “You know, you’re okay, Brandon.” He stood up
and wandered to the magazines. Browsing the rack, he picked up another magazine—a
tattoo one—and then slid it back in place.
Then, he casually sauntered back up to the counter. Pulling out his wallet from his
back pocket, he thumbed through and slammed his identification card on the countertop.
“Here,” he said and I leaned over, eying the name, the date of birth, and the other
essentials.
Jamie Brockman Jr. Birthdate: 1984. Why the hell do you want me to see that?
He slapped a crumpled ten dollar bill next to his I.D. “Why don’t you gimme a pack
of Marlboro Reds.” I gazed into his gorgeous brown eyes, realizing he was leaning close
enough I could hear his unsteady breath.
I straightened and reached up to pull a pack of cigarettes from the case overhead.
“Can’t smoke in here,” I added, taking his cash and making change.
“No shit. I shouldn’t really be smoking at all.” He tapped the pack on his palm. The
plastic rustled as he tore off the seal and opened the box. With a cigarette bobbing in his
mouth, he said, “Quit about two months ago.”
“Then, why the hell are you about to have one?” I asked, tempted to rip it from his
lips, but decided against getting anywhere close to him for fear I’d lose myself in his
eyes.
“I guess I just started up again.” The chime of the door sounded and he stepped out.
After lighting his cigarette and exhaling the first puff, he jammed his hands in his
pockets. Crazy bastard. Standing in front of the door, shivering without his coat, he
puffed on the cigarette, sending wafts of smoke and heat into the frigid air.
Large snowflakes fell around him; the short awning above the door and windows
never prevented anyone from getting wet. Flakes landed on his hair, mingling with the
dark brown, like little white spots on dark paper. Just short of amazing—until I caught the
trembling in his legs straight up to his taut ass.
Imagining he ought to be cold out there, I’d opted to retrieve his coat from the back
room and take it outside for him.
“Forgot your coat,” I said, suddenly remembering I’d forgotten mine.
He replied with a grin, “Thanks.” And slipped it on.
Piles of snow had already built up on the sidewalk where I’d shoveled fifteen minutes
ago. The ice melt was covered and I figured I should probably shovel again.
Before I could go back inside and grab the shovel, he threw his half-smoked cigarette
on the ground and the snow stifled it. “Why don’t you hand me the shovel. I’ll work on
this for ya since you don’t have your coat.”
Maybe he’s not as bad as I thought.
Part Two
“Okay.” I popped in the door, grabbed the shovel, and handed it to him.
Without a word, he began to dig out the sidewalk. He moved quicker than I had
earlier, despite the snow was deeper and coming up to our ankles. I went back inside,
wiping snowflakes from my shoulders, threw my coat on, and joined him with the bucket
of melting salt.
As he shoveled, I sprinkled it on the areas that began to freeze up again. Tire tracks
from earlier had already been covered by the snow as well. I’d have to call Sue later in
the morning and see when she could get a plow out.
I followed close behind him, the snow fell between us and the wind howled.
Hopefully I could get my car started in the morning. With that thought, I smacked into a
hard body. James had stopped at the side of the building.
“Hey,” he griped.
Quickly, I stepped back, pouring the last of the ice melt on the freshly shoveled pack.
“Sorry.”
“Eh, no prob.” He pulled the pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket and lit another
one. More puffs of hot smoke lifted in the air, carried by the wind in a whirl.
I turned and led him back to the entrance of the store, but stayed outside while he
finished his cigarette. Once inside, the warm air sent a shock through me after being in
the cold. Goosebumps formed on my arms, underneath the gauze and against the tattoo
making me cringe.
I was back behind the counter, staring out the window, wondering when—or if—the
next customer would come by. James leaned against the front of the counter, picking at
the edges of the plexi-glass insert.
“What happened?” He bobbed his head at me.
“What?”
“That gauze on your arm. You get bit by a dog or something?” His breath reeked of
cigarette smoke.
“No. It’s my new tattoo. Got infected.”
“Really? Let me see.” James reached out along the countertop and I leaned in,
holding out my arm. Gripping my hand tight, he slowly peeled off the tape I’d
meticulously put on earlier in the day and pulled back the gauze revealing red, oozing
skin around the black ink. The tattooist tried to color it, leaving bits of blues and purples,
but had to stop that day. “You shouldn’t keep it covered like this all the time.”
“That’s not what the tattooist said,” I answered, feeling a little aggravated that now
James was acting like a doctor trained in treating tattoo infections.
“You got a shitty artist, then.” He pulled his hand away and retrieved a small tube of
something from the pocket of his coat. First aide cream? With a snap of the lid, he daubed
some on a tissue, and patted it on my arm.
I winced at the ache. It wasn’t pain, but a dull ache across that part of my arm and the
skin surrounding it.
“Good lining job on it, though,” he said, tracing the lines with the tissue. He pulled
away, leaving the smooth greasy film of cream. “Leave it uncovered tonight.”
“Okay.” I drank in his mysterious but soft eyes. He was standing close. Too close. A
warm heat swept through me and, damn, had it gotten hot in here.
His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. Meeting my gaze, his brows narrowed and the
smile on his lips wavered. He let go of my hand and straightened, brushing his hand
through his hair. “Anyway…”
I backed away from the counter and leaned against the cigarette racks behind me.
Glancing at my arm, he’d done a good job covering the irritated area. I tossed the gauze
in the trash; I could follow his advice. Besides, with the way the snow was blowing, I
surely wouldn’t be going back outside to shovel again until early morning.
“Is that your first tattoo?” he asked, eyes focused on the candy shelves under the
counter.
“My second.” I crossed my arms, taking care not to bump my forearm. “Guy in Jasper
did it for me.”
He bobbed his head, and then rolled back his sleeve over his shoulder, revealing the
large piece of artwork tattooed across his upper arm, shoulder, and stretching down to
hide under his shirt. Stepping closer, he set his elbow on the counter, giving me a better
look.
“Been working on this since I was 15.” He traced the black outlines of birds and roses
with his fingers. Colors aging in spots, the tattoo—more like a collage—was a mix of
several things. Skulls wrapped around thorns around his underarm, birds with wings
spread wide and strange lines and curves and colors that I couldn’t see unless he’d taken
off his entire shirt.
“Damn.” I breathed, leaning in. “How far does it go?”
“All the way across to the other arm. Not done yet. I’ve been working on my back.”
He turned and pulled up his shirt and I spotted the clean, sharp black outlines and
coloring of a dragon and Celtic symbols. I could almost imagine the tattoo stretched to
the name cursived into his neck.
“Wow.” I wanted to touch. To look past the dark ink and feel his muscles strain
against my fingers. I opted against that, too. “You gonna fill up your arms too?”
“Damn right. Planning sleeve work next year.” He turned around, pulling his shirt
back down and motioned across his arms. “Been looking at designs. I have the first
sleeve planned, but not sure about the second.”
I nodded quietly. There was something about him—hell, everything about him—that
I’d wanted to know more about. How did he get so buff in just six months? What were
his design plans for his first sleeve? And did he have a girlfriend now?—which would be
great if he’d said no.
“What about your other tattoo? Your first one?”
I perked up. It was something I’d never really shown anyone, since it wasn’t easily
visible like an arm or leg. “Um, it’s a Kanji symbol on my hip.” I pointed out the location
just under my waist line.
“Really?” he asked in a semi-curious, semi-sarcastic tone.
I shrugged. “Yeah.”
“That hurt for your first tat?”
“Not as bad as they say it does.”
He rolled his eyes and shook his head, almost in disbelief. Then, his eyes went
serious. “Can I see it?”
I huffed. “No. But it’s the symbol for happiness with a few little stars around it.”
He paused a moment, something passing through his expression—maybe it was
partial interest—then he smiled. “You know, I never thought about symbols other than
Celtic stuff. Well, like Japanese and Chinese type symbols.”
“It’s an idea,” I said, then leaned down to grab the towel. No reason why I couldn’t be
cleaning while having this discussion. I was at work after all.
I walked around the counter and to the pop machine, wiping at the nozzles which had
since cooled. His footsteps followed and stopped behind me—I could feel him close—he
stepped to the side to lean on the edge of the counter.
I eyed him. Damn I wished he would just go read something again, or play with stuff
on the shelves. Not that I didn’t like him being near, I just felt a little off balance when he
was. “Bored?”
“I’m not used to staying up all night.”
“Why don’t you go lay down on the bench or something.”
“Nah, I’m cool. Just waiting for you to finish that so I can refill my cup.”
Whatever. I turned back to my work, finished putting the nozzles on the Pepsi
machine, then slid over and began working on the Coke machine. The fizz of soda
hummed beside me as he tapped the button to refill his cup. Then it went silent, except
for his breath. He stood way too close to me again and though I was tempted to ask him
to go sit, I bit my bottom lip and stifled it down.
I continued to replace the nozzles on the soda machine; he stayed still, watching as I
worked. That same warmth came over me—too hot in here—and a small drop of sweat
tickled its way down my brow.
I swallowed. Jesus, would he just go sit down? I tried to shake away the image of his
tattooed back, those dark patterned lines moving when he moved, the muscles tensing
down to his unmarked hips and his legs. And maybe it was just because it’d been so
boring—and yet so exciting—tonight, that I couldn’t help but wonder just how moist and
hot and passionate his lips would be pressed to mine. His wanton moans craving for
more. My hands in his hair, exploring down his muscular back and cupping his ass.
Footsteps sounded again, he’d finally stepped away and was heading for the benches.
I finished securing on the last nozzle and dumped the cool water down the drain.
Curiosity struck me; he’d been so quiet at last, that I wondered if he’d fallen asleep.
Around the shelves, I meandered to the benches, but he wasn’t there. He stood in
front of the magazine rack, reading again.
Maybe he just didn’t want to go to sleep.
Back at my register, I leaned back against the counter. A yawn escaped me, and I
stretched my arms above my head, hearing my shoulder pop and crack. Damn, that felt
good, though.
Plastic rustled. He pulled off the lining from a magazine and slipped it out of its case,
apparently he’d found our porno magazines.
“Hey. You open that, you pay for it,” I hollered, catching his attention.
“Fine.” He glanced at the front of the wrapper. “Jesus, 8.99? They sure expect you to
pay a lot just to get your balls off, don’t they?”
“Don’t even think about doing that shit out here.”
He approached the register. “Don’t worry. I’ll go in the bathroom if I need to.” He
pulled out a wad of cash from his pocket. “Besides, I’d rather read the comics.”
Sure. I didn’t believe that in a second. I rang him up though—he’d been my only
customer after all—and he sauntered back to the tables and plopped down.
He opened up the magazine; the naked woman on the cover seemed to stare at me.
The model of the month had her hands crossed in front of hips, covering up her most
private parts, but leaving her cleavage for anyone to see.
Thank God there weren’t any other customers here.
I glanced up at the clock, 1:30, and decided that it would be the best time to clean
those stinky ass bathrooms.
About to step away, I heard him laugh. “Damn, man, I’d kill to have a broad like
this.”
Nope. Won’t get anything done tonight.
“Bet your girl doesn’t look this good.” He continued to chuckle.
I froze on spot. “Bet yours don’t either.”
“No,” he said and stood up to approach me. “But if I had one, she’d look like this.”
He flashed the magazine and the cover girl in complete nude pose, her fingers between
her legs, spreading herself wide and her other finger in her mouth.
“You wish.” I rolled my eyes, uninterested.
“What about your girl? Don’t tell me she looks like this.”
“I don’t have a girl.”
“Oh?” His eyes met mine. “Haven’t found one, don’t need one, or…”
“Or?”
“I don’t know. Gay?”
“Bi.” I bit down my annoyance. “And, no, I don’t need anyone right now. Been
thinking of attending college in the spring.”
He bobbed his head, lips pursed. “Good man. Good idea not to get involved yet.”
Then he set the magazine down on the countertop, pointing at the woman’s breasts. “But
you gotta admit, you’d hit that.”
“Maybe I would.” I shrugged.
He folded his hands on top of the counter, a shitass grin on his lips, and his eyes
narrowed. “How’s your tat feeling now?”
I hadn’t even noticed. Looking at my arm, the first aide cream had since soaked into
my skin, leaving a greasy sheen. It wasn’t as red or irritated, though, and I leaned in and
set my arm on the counter, letting him have a good look.
“Looks better.” He grabbed my hand, this time a little too tight, and ran his thumb
over the back of my knuckles. “I’d cover it back up in the morning before you go to bed.”
“Okay.” I breathed, not wanting to move away from his touch. Or his eyes. Or his
dubious smile.
Is he trying to seduce me? Because it’s working.
His wonderfully mysterious eyes fixed onto mine, needful and wanton, his lips
quivered and went silent. He stopped rubbing the back of my hand, but didn’t pull away.
Instead, I eased closer, scenting his rich, intoxicating cologne and craving those lips.
He tilted his head. “Shouldn’t you take inventory?” he whispered.
Shit. Inventory? I’d forgotten all about it. I slipped my hand away and gathered
myself. How the fuck did I lose myself just now? “Yeah.” I stepped around the counter
and went into the back room.
It was a little too dark for my liking. I switched on the light switch near the door and a
bright light snapped me out of my funk—and whatever I was dreaming about doing ten
seconds ago. He’d followed me into the room. The piles of boxes sat untouched. I should
have done this as soon as he brought them in.
I grabbed my clipboard and went to work, reading stickers on the side of the boxes,
moving them as I needed, and marked them off the list.
James plopped down on a single box near the wall, crossed his arms, and closed his
eyes.
He was going to sleep now?
I continued to check the list, marking boxes with the date arrived and crossing off the
listing on the sheet. I moved boxes away as I made my rounds; they’d ended up in a line
stretching from one side of the room to the other where James sat.
He shifted a moment, getting comfortable. His head hung low, eyes closed, and the
closer I made my rounds towards him, the more I could hear his calm breath and thought
I even caught a snooze.
Well, I could finish my shift and wake him in the morning. Or I could wake him now
before sleeping like that messed up his back. I opted to finish up inventory first.
Two boxes left. The one James sat on and the one next to him. I slipped my way
around him, seeking the box nearby, but my shoe caught on his and I tumbled onto his
lap.
“Ugh, sorry,” I grumbled, bracing my feet on the floor, barely balanced on his leg.
He grasped hold of my sides, steadying us before we both fell to the floor, but he
didn’t move those hands once he awoke. His hot breath blew past my shoulder blades.
“It’s okay,” he said in a heady and possessive voice. “I’ve got you.”
Tightening his hold around my sides, he snaked his arm around to my waistline,
stopping near my crotch.
“What are you—“ I groaned, losing my voice once that controlling hand cupped my
package.
His hand on my side wandered underneath my shirt, to my naked skin, tickling and
causing me to tremble with the plea caught on my tongue. Sliding up my abs and playing
them with his fingers, he whispered moist breath on my back, “You feel good.”
James’s leg began to tremble. His hand gripped my partly hardened cock. I ground
my hips, needing more of his touch. His other hand pinched a nipple and I stifled back a
needful moan stuck in my throat. My stomach tied in knots at my body’s reaction.
Before he could continue, I jumped off his lap and turned, grabbing him by the collar
of that blue twill work shirt. “You son of a—“ I pulled him up to his feet with ease and
slammed him into the set of metal shelves next to us.
I couldn’t stop from pressing my lips to his, my hands gripping and wrinkling his
shirt between my fingers.
He succumbed to my will, squeezing and cupping my ass, tongue prying open my lips
and seeking mine. A moan came heavy from his lungs.
Grabbing his hair, I tilted his head up, and planted kisses along the inside of his chin
to his neck. I slid my left hand down to his waist and under the hem of his shirt, up the
columns of fleshy ribs, and to his chest.
He whimpered when I pinched and flicked his nipple. I imagined the heat growing
through his cheeks—the same as mine. It had definitely gotten too hot. Needy and
possessive, I suckled at his stubble, drawing his skin between my lips, running my tongue
across the pinch before letting go.
A chuckle seemed to come from nowhere. I realized his fingers were pressing into my
ass as far as my slacks would allow. “I knew it.”
I lifted my head from his reddened skin. “What?”
“This. You’ve been flirting with me all night,” he said and my cheeks grew red hot
with embarrassment and fury all at once.
I pulled away, staring at him in irritation. “Have not.” Drawing a closed fist back, I
prepared to swing, aiming right for his nose.
The lights flickered, machines in the store gave a single, sudden beep, and everything
including my target went dark.
“Shit,” I spouted, pulling away from him.
“What happened?” he asked nervously.
Pale flood lights in the store came on, barely illuminating enough to see. The flood
light in the corner of the back room also clicked on, causing shadows of boxes and of
James to stretch along the floor and walls.
“Power’s out?” I answered before dashing into the store.
Outside lights that circled the store were dead. The streetlamp out front was also dark.
White flood lights, two of them on each side of the store, were the only source of light
left.
Creepy, too creepy with the wind howling outside the windows—it seemed worse
now than before. Maybe it was the utter silence. Eerie white flakes fell heavier, piling up
on the freshly shoveled sidewalk and the already white driveway out front.
“Damn. Storm must have gotten worse,” James said.
I pulled out the cell phone from my pocket. With three bars of service, my first
reaction was to call the store manager. She’d be sleeping, though, and I hoped she would
pick up.
After five rings, I heard her sleepy “Hello?”
“Sue, it’s Brandon. The power went out at the store.” My voice shook.
“Hmm…” she sighed and I could imagine she was probably lying in bed, oblivious to
what was going on outside. “You need to lock up the doors, then. While you’re doing
that, I’ll check out the weather forecast for you.”
“Okay.” I hurried around to the register, grabbed the store keys from their hook near
the office, and back to the two main entrance doors.
Strange that I was locking up the store. Stranger still when I turned our open sign to
closed. The Open 24/7 neon sign above me normally shined a radiant blue and red, letting
everyone know we were open no matter what. It was now darkened with the power
outage.
“Yeah, they extended the Winter Storm Warning,” Sue said with a yawn. “Roads are
closed from Sommersville to the state line. You should have closed a long time ago.”
I glanced at James—if he wasn’t here flirting with me, I probably would have known.
And what the hell was I about to do earlier? Or else Sue could have called.
James coughed into his hand.
“Is there a customer there with you?” she asked.
“Um, no. Haven’t had a customer in hours.” I kept my eyes on James. “The delivery
driver is stranded here, though.”
Sue huffed in understanding. “Well, I would say clock out and go home, but with the
roads closed, you’re probably stuck. I’ll call out a plow as soon as I can. Don’t open the
coolers, okay?”
I nodded, realized she couldn’t see it, then cleared my throat and answered, “Okay.”
“There’s a battery powered radio underneath the counter and a flash light. Oh, and a
blanket in the storage room.”
Great, stuck with him.
I glanced at James again, noticing worry in his eyes. Hadn’t he ever weathered out a
storm before? But I wasn’t even trained for something like this.
“Okay.” I shuttered.
Sue yawned again. “Take care. Stay warm and I’ll see you in the morning.”
I tapped the ‘End’ key on the phone.
James took a step forward. “Well?”
“We’re stuck here. I guess the roads are closed all the way to the state line.” I caught
the time on my cell, 2:45, shoved it back into my pants pocket, and then went to retrieve
the radio from under the counter.
There was no telling if the batteries were good, and if I needed more, the office door
where they stored extras was locked. I’d have to break open a sales package.
I tuned in the closest radio station I could find, held the small FM radio tight, and
listened to the weather report. Sure enough, officials were telling people not to go outside
if they didn’t have to—that was probably why I hadn’t seen any customers for a while—
and the street crews were already starting to plow the roads. Hopefully, they’d be around
soon.
I plopped down in one of the benches at the front of the store, staring out the window
at the snow fall and the white pack stretching across the lot and the fields ahead.
The rustling of plastic followed by a pop caught my ear. James scooted close with an
open package of potato chips in his hands. “Well, what do we do?”
I shrugged. There wasn’t much we could do. Somehow I’d felt like the horrible
employee, stranded at work because I wasn’t paying any attention to the warnings. Of
course, if it weren’t for James’ company, maybe I would have known. I wouldn’t have
felt like a damn ass for almost falling for him.
“Not much. Go to sleep?” I answered, keeping my attention past the large windows
and to the snow.
He chomped on a potato chip, crunching it between his teeth, and because of the
silence despite the wind and the radio, I heard him swallow. A sigh followed. He wrapped
an arm around my shoulder, scooting closer.
“I know something we could do,” he said, huskily.
Attempted to pull away, I let him slither his hand around my collar instead. His breath
blew hot against my neck when I tipped my head and my heart fluttered and caught in my
throat.
When he pressed his lips on my skin, I jerked my head back, and turned. “Not here.” I
grabbed his shirt and forced him out of his seat.
He was quickly on his feet but so was I, pulling on his twill blue shirt, leading him
back to the storage room. It was significantly darker back there with just the one flood
light, but that was all I needed.
The line of shadows told me where the boxes were stacked on the floor. I stopped
forcing him once we reached the nearest one and leaned over him. Desire flooding my
senses, I felt for the button on his pants, wrenching them open.
I forced open his lips with my tongue, remembering his taste and reveling in it again.
Wrapping my fingers around his cock and pulling it out of his pants, I stroked his length
to the base of his shaft.
His fingers kneaded through my hair. A wanton moan echoed from his lungs. His
cock hardened under my palm. I stopped to rub against his balls, before returning to jerk
him again.
“Je-sus,” he breathed between my lips, hot and moist.
I ran my tongue along his bottom lip before needfully darting inside his mouth again.
Across his teeth, mingling with his tongue, messy kisses so passionate and needy. I’d
wanted him all night, craved his touch, and leaned closer to smell his masculine scent. I’d
lost my mind.
Pulling away, I grabbed hold of his shoulders, forcing him to turn around, and then
pressed into him. He bent forward on the box. I rubbed my hard shaft trapped under
slacks against his ass.
“Y-you gonna fuck me?” he whispered.
My thoughts scattered. Without an answer, I wrapped my hands around his waist and
jerked his loose pants from around his hips, letting them fall to his knees. “Hell yes,” I
groaned.
I spit on my fingers and slid them up his crack, burying deep between his ass cheeks
and to his tight hole. Another moan came from his throat, louder this time. The scratching
of nails against cardboard sounded in the dark.
“F-fuck,” he hissed.
His muscles seized my finger as I opened him. Slowly, I thrust my fingertip inside
until his heavy breathing settled, then I went further to the knuckle.
“I knew it.” I snatched his hair between my fingers and yanked his head up. “You
were flirting with me all night.”
A sly laugh followed, but ceased when I added another finger. “Y-you got me,” he
huffed, breathless. “What a-are you going to do to me?”
His knees quaked as I stretched him further, finding his prostate and rubbing against
it. Another heavy moan sounded followed by him mumbling into his arm.
“I think you already know.” I slid my other hand down to his hard shaft and thumbed
over his slit. I held my finger there, feeling him writhe underneath me until I’d had
enough torture myself, and began to stroke again.
Pressing my painfully hard cock into him—realizing I’d yet to take off my slacks—he
playfully wiggled underneath me as he held himself on his tiptoes.
That moment… I pulled my hand away from him long enough to wrench at my pants
and let them slide to my ankles. Then, I returned to press up against him, rubbing my
length across his quivering ass and thrusting my fingers deeper.
His muscles went taut and relaxed over and over. When I fingered his prostate again,
he’d almost lost his footing, clutching into the box, cardboard tearing under his
fingernails.
“C-c-condom?” he breathed and I froze.
Condoms? I reached over to the metal shelves next to us, feeling out the boxes where
the bathroom restocking supplies were. A box of dry towels fell and scattered onto the
floor near my feet. Toilet paper, toilet brushes, big bottles of soap—I felt my way across
the second shelf until I reached what should be the right box, if I remembered right.
Reaching inside, I grabbed a handful of condoms—there was a dispenser in the
bathroom—and shuffled through the handful, letting them fall to the floor until I had one.
I tore at the top of the plastic with my teeth, and moved my hand away from him to slip
the condom on.
Another spit into my palm, I spread it over James’ hole, and braced myself. I snaked
my arm around his waist, bringing him closer. He groaned, his legs quaked, as I pressed
into him.
My breath caught in my lungs—Jesus, he felt so damn good—and he pushed back
with another stifled moan into his arm. I slid my hand up his abs to his chest, grabbing a
handful of skin, trying to steady myself and my neediness and not succeeding.
“D-damn… fuck, Brandon,” his voice came stifled. “Harder.”
Thrusting to the hilt, my legs ached down to my ankles, but I didn’t give a damn. His
shoes squeaked, sliding along the concrete floor. He repositioned his feet, but with my
ministrations, they began to slide again.
I leaned over him and pulled his shirt away from his back. His muscles tensed, and
the shadowed black ink lines moved when he did. Then, I tightened my grasp on his chest
and straightened, bringing him with me. I lifted his shirt over his head, leaving it hanging
trapped on his arms, and brushed my lips over his dark shoulder blade, nipping with teeth
as I went along.
James reached back, grasping my hair, as I kissed at his skin and reveling in those
gorgeous ink lines. I slowed my pace, keeping my cock balls deep inside him, and
worked my wet lips up the back of his neck and to his earlobe.
“B-Brandon,” he murmured a heavy breath.
He turned his head, pressing moist lips to mine. Our tongues circled around each
other’s until I pulled away, yearning for more of that tight ass.
I grabbed his waist, thrusting hard, deep and fast, my balls tightened, ready to climax
any moment. Damn, I’d wanted it to last a little longer. I jerked away from him and
forced him to walk forward a few steps away from the boxes to an empty spot on the
floor.
He turned with a quick “What—“ but I pushed him to his knees, and to his back,
before he could speak another word.
Grabbing his thighs and sliding closer, he held his legs high in the air and I thrust into
his tight hole again. When I let go, his legs trembled. I ran my palm against his cock,
playing with his balls, causing him to moan in higher pitches than before.
All too excited that I’d the upper hand, I sped my pace.
I couldn’t see his eyes or the expression in his face—something in me wanted to
though. I wanted to see his submission, those eyes sparkling with desire, and those
kissable lips agape in awe.
The need to climax made me stop balls deep. I stroked his cock, hearing his whimpers
and moans, hoping I could hold out a little longer. But he went tense, his prick pulsated in
my hand again, and with another high pitched groan, his hot come spilled over my fist.
He breathed heavy, the shadow of his chest rising and falling, and his arms moved
and settled underneath his head. “D-damn,” he sighed.
I grabbed hold of his thighs, tighter this time, and began to thrust. Faster. Harder.
Putting everything I had into getting off. My breath caught in my lungs. My face grew
red hot.
His needy moans burned at my desire. He reached out, threading his fingers through
mine and ground against me. Moments later, my mind was a buzz with the need to come.
Another thrust and I climaxed.
I leaned over him feeling sated and drained. There was no way I could move, fearful I
might fall over if I tried. My flaccid cock slipped away from his ass, the condom way too
tight and uncomfortable now.
His hot and heavy breath blew past my cheeks. “Wow.”
I cleared my throat. At a loss for words, I pulled away from him, slipped off the
condom, and dragged myself on my knees to the small trash can in the corner of the
room. I’d have to make sure to take out the trash later.
Once I’d stuffed it down to the bottom of the can, I slowly crawled back towards him.
He lay on the floor, propped up on his side, watching me. The pale light from out in the
store illuminated him in shadows, from his face to his sexy body.
“It’s kind of cold in here, isn’t it?” I asked and I barely saw him nod in reply.
Of course, with the power out, the heater would be out too. Remembering that Sue
mentioned a blanket, I began to seek out where it was stored. In the shelf at the opposite
end of the storage room, I pulled out the old, fluffy blanket and returned.
“Wait,” he said before I lay down beside him. He sat up and clicked on a small
flashlight, shining it on my chest. “I wanna see your tattoo.”
“Where’d you get that from?”
He motioned towards the boxes. “You must have knocked it off the shelves earlier. It
practically fell on my head.”
In embarrassment, my cheeks went hot. “Sorry about that.” I pulled up my shirt from
around my stomach; he positioned the light to shine on the Kanji tattoo etched into my
pelvis.
“Oh, nice work.” He sat up, reaching out to run a finger across my skin. “I like that.”
His finger soothed against my skin, causing gooseflesh to bump up on my arms and
down my chest. I trembled under his touch, suddenly feeling quite nervous, and let my
shirt drop to cover the tattoo.
“You thinking of getting one now?”
He laid back on the floor. “Maybe.” The light clicked off, leaving us in the dark.
I left the blanket next to him and retrieved my jeans from the floor. As I slipped them
over my legs, he also reached over to grab his own that were still trapped around his
ankles.
“So that means happiness, huh?” he asked once he was done.
“Yeah,” I answered, laying down next to him and pulling up the blanket.
“Are you… happy?” His question caught me off guard. I laid there, thinking about
my answer.
“Well, everyone has their problems, right?” Of course, everyone’s issues were
different. “Like, I can’t say I love my job or anything. Hopefully I can find something
else while I’m in school.”
“What are you going for?”
“Not sure. Been thinking of taking this class on DJ’ing as an elective.”
“You wanna be a D.J.?” he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.
“I don’t know. Always thought it’d be fun, though.” I let the silence invade. I could
hear him breath, hear him settle onto the floor. The question I’d so wanted to know came
to me. “So what about you?”
“What about me?”
“I mean,” I whispered, laying my head on my arm, still facing him and wishing I
could see the look in his eyes. “Three months ago, you made a late delivery. That was the
first time I saw you.”
“Oh,” he sighed. “When I was married, my ex was all in the drug scene.” He rustled
underneath the blanket. With another sigh, he added, “I was in the drug scene. And it just
goes on from there. After I got divorced, I worked on cleaning myself up.”
“I see.”
The silence came over again. He pulled up the blanket further, taking some of it from
me and it slid away from my toes. When I yanked on it, he chuckled. “Sorry. I’m getting
pretty tired.”
“Go ahead and sleep if you want. I’ll probably just lay here, maybe I’ll go grab the
radio and listen to some music, or something.”
A yawn followed. “M’kay.”
I slid out from the blanket and meandered quietly into the store. It was still dark, still
ghostly with the snow flying in the night, drifting in the wind and piling up. There could
be so many other places I’d love to be right now. Then again, part of me was looking
forward to laying back down with James, and cuddling—to share our warmth, of course
—but I wasn’t sure what he’d think of that.
When I went back into the storage room, he’d pulled up the blanket to his head, trying
to settle in. “You okay?” I asked him. He reminded me of my little cousin afraid of the
dark.
“Yeah.” He threw the blanket off and the small flashlight clicked on. “Kind of lonely
for a minute.”
I chuckled. “Got a little spooked, did ya?” I knelt back down and settled close,
angling the radio above our heads.
“Sort of—Hey, I’m not some little kid, though. I just…” He fell silent.
With the flashlight playing on the ceiling, he waved his fingers across it making lines
in the white light. Then, he added a pair of jumping bunny ears, followed by a dog.
“You’re not a little kid, huh?” I laughed, and then joined his play, holding up my hand
in front of the flashlight.
He fought back, pushing my hand out of the way of the light. “Don’t steal my light.”
“You got to be kidding me.” I huffed and tried my best to make a shadow puppet.
“Oo, what is that? A bear?”
“A… lion?” I laughed, then grabbed the flashlight from him. “Let’s not burn out the
batteries.” I clicked it off.
“You’re no fun.” He rolled over on his side away from me.
I tried not to smile. No fun, he says. But who the hell would be silly in a storm like
this? I scooted against him and drooped my hand across his side. He snored, long and
heavy. The smile spread on my lips.
Part Three
Damn, it’s cold.
I hid my hands underneath my coat sleeves and hustled out the door to the car. The
freezing air stung my face. The wind still howled against the building, whipping signs
around and making them creak.
Hopping in the car, I fought to pull the keys from my pocket and quickly turned the
ignition. Click. What the hell? Click, click. After the third unsuccessful try, I beat the
steering wheel with closed fists, cussing under breath.
The rumble of James’ truck made me peer out from above my arm. His driver’s
window was open; he hung his head out, hollering something at me.
I opened the door to hear him say, “Everything okay?”
“Fuckin thing won’t start.” I huffed and stepped out onto the snow covered ground.
Brushing off the snow from the hood, I continued bitching under my breath until it was
clear enough I could pop it open and check out the problem.
My first thought, it could be the battery, but I’d cleaned my terminals the last time
this happened.
“What do you think it is?” James asked from his truck.
I shrugged and glanced at the engine, the belt, and pulled out the oil stick, making
sure that wasn’t the case. I wasn’t a mechanic. Hell if I knew what was going on.
“Damn,” I spouted, knowing well it would take an hour or more for a tow truck to
come out. All I wanted to do was sleep.
“Best just hop in.” James beat on the side of his truck door.
“Huh?”
“If you want, that is, I can give you a ride home,” he said with a smile. “You could
call a tow later.”
I slammed the hood and leaned inside the car, yanking the keys out of the ignition,
and fighting back the urge to kick the damn side of the fender. “You sure? That’s extra
driving for you.”
“Eh, it’s no problem. Let your boss know what’s going on. I’ll wait out here for you.”
“Thanks.” I ran inside to give Sue the news, then went back out and hopped in the
passenger’s side of the truck.
The loud rumble made it hard to hear. I had to yell “Thanks again” in order to even
hear myself.
We were on the road, driving slow due to the slick road and uneven plow job. Even if
I was tired, sleeping on the way wouldn’t happen. Too many bumps and jerks, and the
constant annoying rumble of the old delivery truck.
Glancing at the dusty dash, there wasn’t a radio—good thing too, probably couldn’t
hear it—a dirty cup holder and filth splattered against the heat controls. James reached
out to adjust a lever, cranking it up, and warm air wafted against my face, the rumble
considerably worse.
“Sorry,” he said and adjusted it again.
I brushed the rogue hairs from my eyes.
Thank goodness Sommersville was about twenty miles South, I didn’t think I could
deal with the noise and the jerks for a fifty mile drive. But the snow pack made the short
drive seem like an eternity.
An hour later in town, I directed James the best I could around the snow covered
streets. The plows hadn’t even made it to the side roads yet, making them hard for James
to maneuver the truck.
“Up there.” I motioned to an apartment complex of red brick foundation and ugly
yellow siding to my right. It was the worse eyesore in town, but I called it home.
He pulled up to the curb and killed the engine, leaving my ears with an annoying ring.
“Umm…” He stared out the window, tired eyes looking past me to the apartment. “I
hate to ask, but do you think,” he laughed a little. “I could stay and crash for a bit? The
drive back would be—“
I caught his gaze, not on the apartment, but on me. Dark lines circled his eyes, the
sleepiness present in his face. “Sure, I guess.” Hell, yeah, you can stay.
“Yeah?”
“You’re lucky my couch is comfortable.” I pried open the door and stepped out,
feeling the tremble in my legs that I wasn’t sure was from sleepiness or from the drive.
His door slammed shut and he was behind me as I led him to the apartment. “You
have some extra blankets?”
“Yeah,” I answered, unlocking the door and stepping into the warmth. I didn’t think
I’d miss my apartment this much, but after last night, I was happy to be home. “My
mom’s had to stay with me before, so she left them here.”
Moving past the couch and to the hallway closet, I pulled out a pile of blankets with a
pillow. When I wandered back into the living room, James was already plopped on the
couch, shoes hanging off the edge. He peered up with a smile.
“So, how big is your bed?”
“It’s… a king size.”
He raised his brows. “You’re going to leave me out here on this little thing? After last
night?”
“Um, yeah.” I tossed the pile of blankets on the couch and crossed my arms.
“Come on. We don’t have to mess around. All I want to do is sleep.”
I glanced into my room, spotting the bed—warm and comfortable, waiting for me.
My shoulders drooped, I could imagine crawling in there right now, pulling the covers
over my head to block out the sunlight, and sleeping away the day like I’d always done
after my shifts.
Running my hands through my hair, I muttered, “I suppose you could—“
“Awesome.” James grabbed the extra pillow and stood, taking off for the bedroom,
and already underneath the blankets when I came in after him. What the hell?
But he’d settled in his spot. I drank in his form underneath the blankets, the lump
there that I wasn’t used to, and decided to leave it at that. With a steady breath, I retrieved
my sweatpants from the floor and changed in the bathroom. Then, I snuck into my spot
on the bed. As I attempted to close my eyes, a long snore rumbled from his lips.
Sometime later that day, I awoke to heaving breath on my back and his arm wrapped
around my side. I scooted out of his hold, and sat up, wiping my eyes. A loud snore
followed, he turned to the opposite side, and settled again.
What a sound sleeper.
I needed coffee. Hell, I needed more than coffee; some java with a shot of whiskey
would be nice, but I opted for strong and black instead. Into the kitchen, I meandered to
the coffee machine, digging out the can of coffee from the cupboard above and filled the
pot with water.
Goose bumps formed on my arms and down my legs, remembering how close he was
cuddled next to me when I awoke, and the something that was poking me from behind.
Sure, that was probably just the morning wood that men can’t help in the mornings, but
it’d sent a shiver through me just thinking of how close, how tempting it was to scoot
closer and have him inside.
Didn’t I have enough last night?
My cock ached, tenting my sweat pants. I stared out the window, my imagination
running wild, and leaned against the counter. I could go back in there. There were
condoms in my night stand. A hot tingle swept through my balls, and I brushed my hand
against my hardness. Fuck… Before I could turn around with my mind made up, I felt a
pair of hands sneak around my eyes.
“Guess who?” James whispered hot and heady into my ear.
My heart lumped into my throat. “J-James, what a-are you—“
His moist lips kissed my neck. “Was hoping you’d be in bed when I woke up.” He
stepped close, his rigid length pressing into my ass.
“N-needed c-coffee…” I murmured, suddenly I’d needed something else.
“Mmm, it can wait.” He moved his hands from my eyes, but I’d kept them closed. He
grabbed hold of my arms, pulling them behind my back. Then, he kissed my neck again,
down my shoulder, leaving hot, wet trails on my skin.
His grasp tightened and he stepped back, pulling me along. I could only imagine he
was leading me into the bedroom, so I didn’t dare look out. Away from the bubbling pot
of coffee, I could barely keep track of where we were as my mind went wild for whatever
he was attempting.
Please say you’re going to fuck me.
But he pulled away suddenly. My eyes popped open. He was in front of me now.
When I tried to move my arms, I realized they were loosely tied together.
“What the hell?”
His smile wavered, and he slammed me into the couch, straddling my legs and
leaning into me, kissing my neck and my chin with wanton urgency. Hot breath blew past
my ear and I trembled. My heart hammered in my chest.
“You’re so damn sexy,” he whispered as he sat up.
My senses clouded with lust, it took a second to realize he was standing beside the
couch, rummaging through my wallet.
“Hey.” I struggled to stand, but his fist slammed into my chin, knocking me back into
the seat with a huff.
“You don’t seem to understand,” he said, pulling out cash from my wallet and waving
it in the air. Fifty dollars. “I work the night shift too.”
“What?”
“See you later, lover.” He passed by, tossing the wallet on my lap before sauntering
out the door.
I jumped up after him, writhing out of the small shoestring tied around my wrists, and
darted out the door. He was fast, already out to his truck when I stopped. I stood,
shivering in the cold. My feet immediately stung, my arms tingling, and the breeze swept
past my face, making my cheeks burn.
“Mr. Dixon?” My elderly neighbor stood on her step, a broom in her hands. She
glanced over with concern.
The truck’s engine roared, and he pulled away from the curb. I’d wanted to chase
after him—damn why did my car have to be back at work?—but her voice stopped me.
“What are you doing? It’s freezing out here.”
“Sorry, ma’am.” I sighed and went back inside. There wasn’t much I could do now,
but I’d kill that bastard the next time I see him.
***
I’d made a promise to myself, and to Sue, that I’d help with truck delivery when it
came next Wednesday. To Sue, I said that I needed the extra hours, especially after having
my hours adjusted last week due to the storm. To myself, I swore up and down I was
going to get my money back from James, even if I had to kick his ass and steal it.
But when truck came that Wednesday, it was a different delivery driver.
I wasn’t sure how I would track him down and I’d spent the next two days keeping a
tedious eye out for anyone who looked like him.
I couldn’t watch for him in dinky Sommersville. I visited my mother in Jasper that
Saturday, knowing well that if I were to catch James, I’d have to spend more time there.
Plus, it’d been awhile since I’d seen my mom after she’d sobered up.
She looked good, had gained a little weight, but was completely happy with her life,
something that I hadn’t seen in my mom for—well, years.
“Love you ma.” I gave her a big hug on my way out. It was getting late; I hadn’t even
realized I’d spent the entire day with her.
“Love you too, Brandon.”
It was dark by the time I left her house. Driving down Main Street, I cranked up the
heater and turned up the radio for the expected drive home. It would take an hour, but at
least the roads were clear.
The streets weren’t as busy as they were this afternoon, most everyone was home by
now. I could have stayed here in Jasper, I’d grown up here after all, but decided that I
preferred the quiet nature of Sommersville. Plus it was closer to work, and the general
direction that I’d always wanted to go. It’d been a slow process, but eventually I wanted
to move East.
Further down the road, a scattering of houses and newer buildings replaced the old,
downtown ones, leading onto the highway. Cars lined the curb outside a local club on my
right. I slowed for a group of people laughing and goofing off as they walked across the
street.
Misplaced in the crowd, a familiar figure caught my eye. He crept behind the group,
his head lowered and hands tucked underneath his arms, but I’d never forget that walk
and that big bulky coat. James.
I eased passed the club and made a u-turn at the closest driveway, drove by again, and
stopped at the curb about a half a block down. Son of a bitch, that just had to be him, my
vindictive mind wouldn’t let it go. Even if I wasn’t ready to party, I threw open the door
and slinked inside the club.
Hard rock music shook me out of my glum mood. I blinked, pale lighting above the
bar and the shining spotlights from stage made it hard to see the crowd ahead of me.
Narrowing my sights, I peered around, spotting everyone—but not the man I was
searching for.
Once used to the contrast of lights, and figuring out there wasn’t a band tonight, I
plopped down on a bar stool, deciding to eye the door. People roamed around the corner
behind me, I’d soon learned that was the entrance to the bathrooms, and kept my
attention there too, just in case.
“What’re ya having?” the bartender asked.
“Bud,” I answered, uninterested in anything but waiting for James.
“Bottle?”
I nodded.
Soon, the bartender was back, setting the bottle down in front of me and I took a long,
hapless drink while checking over my shoulder. Every time I heard a rustle, I’d turn in
my chair and in disappointment, I’d turn back realizing it wasn’t him.
At least the music was good and no one was bothering me. Most of the crowd was
deep in the club, dancing or playing pool. The opposite end of the bar was packed with
waitresses and drunks waiting for the bartender.
I’d found the perfect spot, on the hunt—like a cop or detective—seeking out my
objective for the night.
I finished my first bottle fast and was on my second, gulping it down just as quickly.
Maybe this whole James business really rattled my nerves. Bottle after bottle, turn after
turn—disappointed every damn time.
Another rustle caught my attention. I peered over my shoulder, spotting that big black
coat, and the rest of him as he dragged another man by his wrist around the corner and
into the bathroom.
What the fuck?
I scooted out of my seat, immediately realizing how many bottles of beer I’d downed.
Staggering away from the bar, I snuck into the bathroom, letting the door swing closed.
There were three stalls, two of them open, and one guy pissing at the only urinal. He
glanced my way a moment before zip and left the bathroom.
I refocused my thoughts, suddenly needing to piss now that I was here.
A distinct moan came from the closed stall. I balanced myself against the wall and
bent down, spotting two sets of legs and that familiar black coat. He was in there all right,
his legs sprawled on the floor, and the other man appeared to be sitting on the toilet seat.
The urgency to piss had me seeking the stall next to them. I unzipped my jeans and
relieved myself, and then remained in the stall, listening to the action next door.
Thumping. Sucking noises. Moaning.
When I imagined what was happening, my clouded thoughts couldn’t help but vision
James with his lips wrapped around my cock. I adjusted myself in suddenly tight jeans
and meandered out of the stall and to the closed door.
As I leaned in to listen closer, the door swung open, smacking something inside.
“Fuck! Privacy!” James’ wide eyes took me in, his mouth open, lips red and puffy.
My instincts took order. Realizing why I was there, I grabbed him by his brown hair,
lifted him to his feet and threw him out of the stall.
“Son of a bitch,” I growled, stalking up to him like he was my victim. “Where’s my
money?” I grabbed his shirt, my fist in the air ready to strike.
James ducked, his lips quivering, and before I could hit him, a blunt pain spread
across my head and neck. I recoiled away. An older man stood next to me, fingers
grasped onto my coat. His fist came at me again and I dodged away in time for him to
smack the sink with a clank.
“Holy fuck.” I backed into James and he caught my side.
“Brandon? What the fuck are you—“
We both ducked when the man’s fist came wailing for the third time. A loud crack of
tile echoed. “Mother fucker.”
“You gotta get the fuck out of here,” James said.
“Fuck that. You owe me money.”
A peculiar click had us both frozen in our spots. The guy held a silver switchblade in
his hand, sparkling in the overhead lights. My heart lodged into my throat.
“I paid a hundred bucks for that man’s services, and damn it, I’m getting my money’s
worth.” He swung the switchblade in my direction.
After dodging his blow, James grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the bathroom.
We hurried for the door, scooting by a group of people on our way outside. Quickly, he
led me around the building, snow crunching under our feet, until we were behind the
club. We both crouched low.
I gasped, willing my breath to settle. “What the h—“
“Shh.” James put his finger to his lips, and then snuck in front of me to peer around
the corner.
I crept a little closer to him. Waiting. Watching. Wondering what the hell was going
on. Hoping that guy from earlier hadn’t followed us out here.
“Okay, he’s walking away. I think he’s leaving.” James stood and took a step away
from the building. “So why the hell are you here?”
I caught his arm before he could leave. “You know why I’m here, fucker. I want my
money.”
James huffed. “Whatever.” He jerked his wrist from my grip and stepped another
snow crunching step. “I don’t owe—“
“Bullshit.” I lunged for him, grabbing his shirt with force. “The fifty bucks you
snagged from my wallet.”
A sudden clack of a trigger made me glance towards the side of the building. Focused
on the dark gun barrel pointed at my face, I barely had a chance to spot the man behind it.
The old guy from the bar.
“Motherfucker,” he groaned.
“Brandon.” James tugged on my arm, sending me falling to my knees in the snow as
the loud crack of the gun went off.
“Jesus Christ.” I felt James pull, trying to nudge me away, but the only thing I could
hear was the whizzing sound of the bullet through the air. “Come on.” He nudged me
again.
My heart raced. My breath heavy. I took off through the heavy snow with James
leading the way. Another crack in the quiet air had my every nerve working overtime.
Snow crunched behind us. The man grumbled something but I was too busy trying to
get the hell out of there to really pay attention. All I knew was the bastard wanted to kill
me.
Once around to the front of the building, a crowd stood near the bar’s doors. A few of
them were on their cell phones. Cars revved up, their back lights shining red spots on the
ground. I spotted the distinct sound of cop sirens in the distance.
Thank fucking God.
I turned to see the man’s shadow backing away from the building and disappearing
into the dark.
“Holy shit,” I breathed. Stopped dead in my tracks, I needed the moment to catch my
breath, but James continued to nudge.
“Brandon. Shit… I-I gotta get the fuck out of here.” His Adam’s apple bobbed in his
throat; his eyes were wide.
“What?”
“Where’s your car? We gotta go. Now. Before the cops get here.”
I’d much rather stay and give the police that old guy’s full description, but I still
needed to razz James about the money. Didn’t I? Suddenly, it really hadn’t seemed that
important when I was running to save my life.
“Over here.” I led him down the sidewalk, past the club and the onlookers, and to my
car.
Flashing lights ahead warned the police were only a block away. I revved up the
engine and drove up the sidewalk, before taking off down the highway.
It was silent, even with the radio on, and my ears rang horribly from all the tension.
James kept a cautious eye out the back window. After driving out of the city limits, I
turned onto a small paved road leading around snow packed fields.
“God damn, that was close.” James turned in his seat and sat back with a sigh.
I nodded, unable to find the words for what just happened. Instead, I focused on the
sounds of the outside air rushing past, the hum of the motor, and the soft drone of the
stereo.
James zipped up his coat. “Pull over and let me out.”
“Here?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s freezing out. And it’s one in the morning. Where the hell are you going to go?”
“I’ll just walk back to one of my friend’s house.”
But I didn’t pull over like he requested. I slowed the car down and continued driving,
up into the forestry hills and past a single farmhouse.
“Come on, man. I said pull over.”
“No—“
“Is this about your fucking money?” He sat up, dug into his back pocket, and pulled
out his wallet. A couple of crumpled bills landed on my lap. “There, you fucking pussy.
Now let me out.”
I glanced at the money, then back at him. His hands were folded around his chest
impatiently, eyes glaring at the road. I slowed even more and pulled onto the side of the
road.
When I stopped completely, he flicked his eyes towards me.
“Well, thank you, anyway.” James opened the door.
I picked up the money, thumbed through it, and threw it back at him before he could
slip outside.
“I’m not a fucking pussy.” I huffed. “Now sit your ass down and close the fucking
door.”
Narrowing his eyes, he slid back inside and slammed the door as commanded. I
smashed my foot on the gas pedal, taking off down the road, and eased up after a few
harrowing seconds of silence.
James sighed. There was a zip of his jacket as he unzipped it. “So what are we doing,
then?”
I hadn’t thought that far. It was just too fucking cold to let him go wandering off
alone. But I didn’t have any friends back in Jasper, and I was driving the opposite
direction of home. “What about your place?”
“Uh, yeah, about that. I—“
“—You stay with friends?”
“Yeah,” he whispered.
With a sigh, I thought about how much cash was in my front pocket, but I didn’t think
I’d have enough to rent a room for the night. “Fine.” At the first turn, I flipped around,
and headed back the way we’d came. “You could stay at my place… On the couch.”
“Rent free?” He chuckled, waggling his brows. “Or will you require something else?”
“Don’t be an ass. It’s only for one night. Besides, I saved you from getting busted
back there, didn’t I?”
“I suppose you did,” he whispered.
Silence followed.
“So, why do you do it?”
“What?”
“What you were doing back there at the club?”
He clasped his hands on his lap. “Child support’s been kicking my ass,” he sighed. “I
gotta pay bills somehow, and being a part time delivery driver isn’t cutting it.”
“But… the risks—“
“I know about the risks. But, shit man, I haven’t been able to catch a break.” He
pressed buttons on the stereo, stopping at the metal station. “Not since I sobered up.”
“W-why don’t you get a second job?”
“Fuck that. And work twenty four, seven? Yeah, I ain’t doing that. Gotta sleep some
time, you know.”
“Yeah, but, selling yourself out like that?”
“What are you, my fucking mother? Jesus, if you’re going to give me a speech, pull
over now and let me—“
“No.” I straightened and stomped on the gas. “I’m sorry, okay. I-I’ll stay out of it.”
But it was hard to ignore. I’d never known anyone under so much pressure, who
would do what James had to earn an extra dime. Everyone I’d ever met worked two, or
even three, jobs to make ends meet.
The lights of Sommersville were dull against the hazy night sky. From that distance, I
could tell it would be another hour before we made it home. Another hour with James;
another hour wondering if I’d made the right choice inviting him back to my apartment.
We barely spoke the rest of the drive. I cranked up the stereo, and we jammed on
some old Megadeth that I hadn’t heard since I was a kid. He fiddled with everything: his
zipper, his thumbs, the radio dials, and the buttons for the heater.
When I finally pulled up to the curb near my apartment, James was passed out in his
seat. I turned down the stereo, and his loud snoring invaded the quietness.
So that’s what that noise was.
“Hey.” I jabbed him in the arm. “Wake up. We’re here.”
His eyes fluttered. He glanced around the car and out the window to the apartment
building. “Shit. Thank fucking God.” Forcing the door open, he leaned out—I thought he
was going to fall on his ass—and steadied himself on his feet.
“You all right?” I darted around the car to stand next to him, snaking my arm around
his side.
“Yeah.” He pulled himself away. “Just tired.”
“Come on, then.” I led him up the sidewalk and to the apartment.
Once inside, he plopped on the couch, like last time, only I hadn’t put away the
blanket or pillow I’d retrieved for him then, so he bundled up, curled his feet against the
arm of the sofa, and closed his eyes.
I stood eying him in the silence of the living room, remembering our night last week.
Thinking about his tattoos—the Celtic etchings around his arms and other intricate
designs—and hooking up in the heat of the moment.
Then, I glanced at the clock. Four a.m. But I was awake after all that happened. Or
was it the nighttime? There was no way I could sleep now. It was in my nature to stay up
until dawn.
I shut off the light above the stove, leaving the living room in darkness. A warm
shower could do the trick. I quietly gathered up clean clothes from the dresser. Around
the corner, I spotted James rolling over, taking the edge of the blanket with him, and
wrapping it around himself.
Jesus, how could he sleep like that?
In the bathroom, I flipped on the light switch, leaving the one for the fan off in case it
made too much noise, and carefully pushed the button to lock the door. Hopefully if he
happened to wake up, he’d hear the shower running and wait? No. Hopefully he wouldn’t
wake up at all.
The water felt great once I’d stripped and stepped in. I let it spray over my back to
massage the sore muscles from unloading truck this week, and then I angled my head into
the stream.
I thought of James again. At the club, in the bathroom stall, with his reddened lips
wrapped around that guy’s shaft… Why the hell does he have to do that shit? How the
thought—the images in my head while I was listening to them—got me aroused earlier.
Settling against the tiled wall, I reached down for my half hardened cock. Shit. Just
thinking about it again had my body buzzing with excitement. I’d replace that old, ugly
man with myself, resting on the toilet seat with James lips on my shaft, sucking deep and
taking me to his throat.
The shower spray beat on the tip of my rigid cock hard enough to spike my senses. I
turned away and began to stroke fast just to get off, and to get those images out of my
head.
A pounding thud came at the door and I peeled my eyes open to the blue tile in front
of me. “Hey.” James’ voice echoed. “I gotta piss, man. You gonna be long?”
Shit. “Hold on.”
Trying to will away my hard on, I slid out from the shower and grabbed the towel
hanging on the rack. After wrapping it around my waist, I turned the doorknob, unlocking
it, and held open the door.
“Make it quick.” His eyes were wide as I tried to step around him. Hell, I gave him a
chance to use the toilet, why isn’t he going?
He stood still, eyes slowly glancing down, and stopped at the towel around my waist.
When I caught sight of what he couldn’t take his eyes from, I rewrapped the towel, trying
to hide the bulge.
A coy grin spread on his lips. “Does that always happen when you take a shower?”
He narrowed his eyes.
“Just,” I motioned to the open bathroom door. “Take your fucking piss.”
He chuckled. “Sure you don’t need anyone to take care of that for you?”
“No. I-I’m good.” I swallowed hard, the desire raging through my nerves, my heart
fluttering in my chest at his partly opened lips and the how I desperately wanted to taste
them again.
He nodded then disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. I
wondered just how long he’d be in there. Fuck, maybe I should just wrap him in my arms
and drown in his sultry kiss. It’d be helluva lot better than fighting away this hard-on.
A few fleeting seconds later, the door flew open. James stood in the entryway. He ran
his tongue across his bottom lip and stepped towards me. Instinctively, I took a step back
but, damn small hallway, I bumped into the wall.
“You sure you’re good with that?” He placed his hand above my head, trapping me
there .
“I-I thought you had to p—“ My voice faltered when his other hand traced down my
wet chest and to the edge of the towel.
He pressed his open lips to mine. I drank in his taste and his passion in one long,
needful kiss. The cool air nipped at my ass; I realized he’d easily stripped the towel from
around my waist, and was now working my cock under his strong fist.
I ran my fingers through his locks, against his scalp, as he moved his lips across my
cheek and to my earlobe. His breath on the side of my neck made the small hairs there
stand on end. He suckled on my earlobe before moving down my collar.
With slow, tender movements, James kissed my chest, then to my right nipple. He
stopped to pinch with fingertips, before aiming his attention to my abs and finally to my
cock.
I leaned my head against the wall. Kneading fingers through his hair, I mumbled his
name, finding that simply saying it made me crave him even more.
James sucked my cock, taking me deep. He grasped onto my buttocks; his fingers at
my ass as he squeezed. I gasped a breath, my knees quaking.
“W-w-wait,” I pleaded.
“No waits,” he whispered and took me into his mouth again.
“J-James.” I let go of his hair and grasped onto his shoulders instead. “The water’s
running.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the open bathroom door. The steam encased the
room, pouring out and evaporating into the hallway. “So go turn it off.” He stood and
licked his lips.
I slid around him and when I reached the bathroom sink, he smacked my ass with his
hand. “Hurry up.”
“I am,” I said at the shower, leaning to turn off the water.
Suddenly, he slammed his body against mine, forcing me to my knees. I felt his hard
cock thrust between my ass cheeks. He grasped onto my hair, yanking my head up.
“You’re not fast enough,” he breathed against my skin.
I caught my breath; the thought of pushing him away collided with the thought of
letting him continue to slide his shaft against my hole. I wanted him. It’d been so long
since anyone had fucked me for a change. I grasped hold of the side of the bathtub and
closed my eyes, letting the thought tease me a little more.
“Do you want me to fuck you, Brandon?” His heady voice had me on edge. I thrust
my ass out, rubbing against his hard cock. “Would you like it if I fuck your tight ass right
here?”
“God y-yes, baby…” Baby? “Fuck me now.”
With my sudden submission, James’ hand explored my thighs and between my legs.
He quickly slid a finger deep inside me and I pushed back, fucking his finger, needing to
feel stretched. Another entered and scissored me wide.
His breath blew past my face as he tightened his grasp around my hair, forcing my
head up. My breath seized in my lungs, I struggled to breathe for the moment as his
fingers hit my prostrate.
“Je-s-us. F…uck.”
“You like that?” he purred. “Want me to pound you like this? Harder?”
I tried to nod. “Y-yes.”
He tilted his head away; I felt the warmth of saliva running down my crack and
around my hole. He worked in the spit and sped his pace as he fucked my ass with his
fingers.
I settled my head against his shoulder, gazing into his wanton and narrowed eyes. He
licked his lips, claiming mine, his tongue forcing my lips open and kissing me with need.
I’d longed to feel him instead of this hard bathtub tile, and I reached back to touch his
leg. He twitched as I grasped hold, thrusting back with his every move, my moans
growing pitches higher than before.
Jesus if only he’d hurry and fuck me right, or else I was going to come soon.
Cool air swept across my bare skin as he pulled away, wrestling with something
behind me. I sighed deeply, realizing I’d needed the breather, and then turned to see him
coming back with a condom in hand.
He tore at the wrapper, pulled out the latex sleeve, and settled behind me. “Look at
the wall.” James splayed his fingers across my shoulder, forcing me back around.
I did as he commanded and stared at the tiled wall ahead. My heart thrashed in my
chest. I needed him now. The longer this took, the more nervous I got. Christ, I hoped he
wasn’t too brutal, even though I’d loved it when he was rough just moments ago.
He pressed into my back again with his hard cock at my hole. I held my breath—I
shouldn’t have—and he pushed ever so slowly, opening me up to him. My thoughts
already clouded from before, dizziness took hold. As I released my gasp, he thrust deeper.
“J-James…” I whispered. Every inch of my body seemed to twitch and ache.
“I’ll take it easy.”
“No. Fuck me… hard,” I begged.
He chuckled, then kissed my neck and snaked his arm around my waist to my cock.
My balls drew up tight when his tight grip began to jerk me off. I knew it wouldn’t be
long.
As he sped his pace, both fucking me and stroking my cock, I heard his voice close to
my ear—needful and gasping—and I came on his fist with a “yes”.
He stopped and grasped my waist, then began thrusting into me again. My spent cock
ached as he kept going, brushing against my prostate, sending twitches and tingles
through my thighs and ass.
“Fuck. You. Feel. So. Good.” He panted as he rocked deep, from the hilt to the shaft.
I rested against the side of the bathtub, laid my head onto my arms, and closed my
eyes. He kept his riding pace, fingers pressing into my sides, until I felt his cock swell
inside me. He groaned his pleasure, and then leaned his head against my back.
In the seconds that followed, I heard him whisper, “Can I…” and the thought of what
would come after those words made my heart sink. Can I… what? Sleep with you? Stay
with you? Fuck you again?
Any of those questions I would gladly answer “yes” but he cleared his throat and
pulled away without finishing his sentence.
Maybe I was hearing things?
“I’ll go back to the couch now.” He wrestled off the condom from his flaccid cock
and tossed it into the trash can beside the toilet.
I balanced against the bathtub, using it to pull myself up. “Wait.” I turned to face him,
dizzy and exhausted, and tried to step forward. He grasped onto my waist lest I fall over
on him. “Not the couch.” Jesus, it was hard even to breathe. “Sleep in my bed… with
me?”
James cocked a brow. “You sure?”
“Look, I don’t normally… well, I usually don’t go fucking any guy that comes
along.”
“I never thought you did—“
“And that couch is uncomfortable, isn’t it?”
“A little.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. Goddamn what was I trying to say? “I’m tired.”
That wasn’t it, but in the moment, that’s all I could conjure up.
James snorted and with a smile, pulled me along out of the bathroom and into the
bedroom. I didn’t realize how cold it was until I sat on the bed, naked ass on the chilly
sheets, needing to scoot up to James and feel his warmth again.
Teeth chattered. Legs trembled. I laid on the bed, head hitting the comfy pillow, and
pulled the blanket up to my chin.
He crossed to the other side and laid next to me, keeping his distance at first until I
rolled to my side and reached out for him. He took my hand, clasping fingers between
mine, and scooted closer. His gaze met mine.
“This is nice. Comfortable. Much better than the couch.”
“Yeah?”
“Warmer.”
Heat flushed into my cheeks as I gazed into his dark brown eyes that narrowed in on
me. “Good night?”
“It’s actually morning.”
I glanced at the window and spotted the light blue of dawn approaching.
“It’s still night for me.” I corrected him with a smile.
Part Four
Maybe I was crazy to think that he’d stay throughout the morning. Maybe I was just
stuck in a dream, but something within told me he’d sleep there beside me, and he
wouldn’t attempt what he’d done last time I invited him home.
But when I opened my eyes, he was gone. Afternoon daylight gleamed through the
window, warmed up the room. I threw the blankets off me and sat straight up, listening
for any signs of life in the living room.
He could be out there, making breakfast, but I didn’t smell anything good coming
from the kitchen. Or he was in the bathroom taking a piss, but I didn’t hear the toilet flush
after a few seconds. Please don’t tell me he left.
I scrambled out of bed and slipped on a dirty pair of jeans from the floor. My jaw
clenched, hurt down into my throat, as I made my way into the living room. The blankets
still covered the couch from last night, but it was empty. I peered into the kitchen. Light
greeted me from the window. I’d hoped it was James’ smile, instead.
My throat tightened. The smell of freshly brewed coffee filtered through the
apartment. The coffee maker bubbled and there was a click when it shut off. On the
countertop, I found a folded note underneath a coffee mug.
“Took bus back to Jasper. Made coffee. Hope it’s still warm. Thank you. 555-1738.
Call anytime you’re not working.”
I tried to smile. Couldn’t. Was that an invitation for next time? So I could call him up
and do the same thing we’d done every time? No. I couldn’t. Not anymore. Damn it, I
shouldn’t get so addicted.
But I shivered when I imagined his breath on my skin, his eyes—gorgeous and
provocative—gazing into mine, his wanton touch and those words. Can I… Can you
what?
I wouldn’t call. Somehow, I knew we’d find each other again without the necessity, so
I pocketed the note instead, keeping it close everywhere I went. At least the notion was
still there.
That Wednesday, I’d promised Sue I’d unload truck, even though I was growing tired
of the job. Why had I agreed to it again? Oh, right, I wanted to catch James when he
showed up, but for the last two weeks, it was always a different delivery guy.
Surely he wouldn’t come again. I should have asked if he quit his job, though I knew
that was nearly impossible considering his obligations. Maybe he was on a different
route.
I threw my coat over the top of the door and tied my apron around my waist, the
whole time debating if I should ask Sue to put someone else on truck for next week.
“Truck’s going to be a little late tonight,” Sue said as she came out of the office.
Figures. “Okay.”
“Guy called. Said probably around midnight or so.”
Again? “You’d think they wouldn’t run so late.” I pinned my name tag to the outside
of the apron and adjusted it.
“Yeah. They have a terrible record.” She stood at the register, double counting my
cash drawer. “Always have.”
I clocked in and went right to work straightening up shelves. I had an hour to wait, an
hour to wonder if James would be here or if it would be the other driver. At least it was
clear outside, the snow had already melted in the daylight sun, so I should have more
customers tonight.
“Well have a good night.” The chime above of the door rang and Sue was gone.
Taking a deep breath, I headed into the back room to change the radio station, and
then wandered back out into the store and cleaned up the pop counter. The coffee was
new, surprisingly, so I poured myself a cup with sugar and hazelnut cream to the mix.
Tasted decent. Sweet. Nutty.
A swift gush of wind blew against my back when the door opened and closed. “Grab
a six pack, baby.” The customer told his girlfriend, and then disappeared into the
bathroom.
I scurried back to the register. She browsed the liquor coolers and picked up an
expensive pack of bottles. They clanked together as she made her way to the front.
“ID?” I punched in the price of the beer in the computer.
She sighed and pulled out her card from her pocket. I glanced at it, and then spotted
her boyfriend coming up behind her. He swung his arm swung around her neck.
“Hey, man. How far is Jasper from here?” he asked.
I swallowed. God, if only I didn’t know who was in Jasper right now. “Fifty miles
west.”
“Thanks.” He tipped his head, grabbed the pack from the countertop, and escorted her
outside.
I let a breath escape. Yeah, no way it would be James tonight, but only time would
tell.
The hour passed by slow. I’d cleaned, organized, stocked the cigarette displays, and
talked to some old guy about the upcoming fishing season all before I heard the familiar
wail of the delivery truck’s horn at the back door.
I hurried to the back, my heart fluttering and my legs trembling, and wedged the door
open for the driver. I stood right outside the door, checking the list of supplies. The light
overhead hummed and dimmed—damn thing had been doing that for a week now,
making truck delivery difficult.
He was in his truck doing something; it seemed to take forever until he finally turned
the engine off and stepped out. All I could see was his shadow walking around the truck.
The door on the truck rumbled open, footsteps pounded inside the backend, and the ramp
slid out of the truck and thumped on the ground.
Enough was enough. The wait was killing me. I stepped around to peer inside the
truck at the shadowed figure moving boxes. How could anyone see in there?
“Hey,” I said. “Running pretty late, huh?”
With a dolly in hand, the driver pushed the pile of boxes down the ramp and stopped
as he got to the ground.
“Always am,” he said and lifted the hood away from his face.
My eyes widened, jaw dropped. “James?” I blinked. He stood with a smile and
nodded. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m working,” he answered with a chuckle. “What are you doing here?”
“Um, working. That’s not what I meant—“
“You never called.”
I thought back to the note. It was still in my pocket. “Didn’t think you’d want me to.”
“Why not? I didn’t leave it for nothing.”
My face flushed. I lowered my head. I don’t know, but for some reason, I thought that
if I called him, he’d be out playing his usual games. What was it called, a rent boy? No.
James was just trying to make ends meet.
Or if I called, he’d want another night of hot sex. Which wouldn’t be bad, but I’d
rather go out, talk, the usual stuff… I guess I was the only old fashioned guy left—liking
dates, and peaceful nights at home cuddled up with a movie, sex or not.
The chime of the bell sounded out in the store. “I-I better get out there.”
He bobbed his head and pulled the dolly away from the stack. “I’ll get the rest of the
boxes.”
Damn, too bad it wasn’t another snowy night. I’d be tempted to close up the store,
turn off all the lights, and not go anywhere. James would be a prisoner here with me,
we’d hold each other, talk about everything, fuck each other senseless, and—Shit, I
needed to stop now. My body trembled as I stumbled back around the counter.
The fountain machine hissed as two people grabbed drinks. They chatted about the
road conditions in the next state, “Think we should rent a room in Jasper. They’re
reporting blizzard white out conditions further west.”
Blizzard white out conditions? If only it was heading this way.
I willed away any thoughts. I’d watched the weather before heading out the door.
That storm was moving south, not east.
They came up to the counter and paid for their drinks before leaving. The quiet
returned, besides for the lunk of boxes being brought in the back door. James… I eased
away from the register.
He’d disappeared back up the ramp. Slowly, I meandered around to the back of the
truck. His shadowy figure moved about, the truck jerked as he positioned boxes around.
Then, he walked out in the dull light of the lamp and stopped in the middle of the ramp.
“That’s everything.”
“Oh?” Already? “So, you have more stops tonight?”
James sauntered down the ramp, stopping in front of me on the ground. Jesus, this
was killer. I’d hoped he’d say “No”, then grab me and kiss me and tell me he wanted to
go back to my place and…
“No, but I have to get the truck back to the warehouse,” he murmured, then picked up
the ramp and slid it back inside the truck. He jumped on the back, reached up, and pulled
down the door until it slammed tight.
I swallowed down the tightness in my throat. This strange moment, like two people
meeting again after a one night stand, was making me nervous. Oh hell, I guess that was
all it was then, a one night stand? “O-oh… I probably should start on inventory then.”
When I turned to step away, his hand caught my arm. “Hold up. You can call me,
Brandon. I…” His voice trembled as it waned.
I flipped around and crashed into his arms, seeking his lips, cold from the chilly air,
yet so familiar and needful. I dug my fingers into the back of his coat, wishing to feel his
skin and to spy those handsome tattoos etched into his shoulders again.
James caressed my back, hands curling down to cup my ass. I stood on tiptoes, mouth
locked on his, body aching with desire, when the chime of the door rang.
I pulled away. “Fuck!” Stupid customers, go away!
James laughed. “To bad you can’t close up, eh?”
I rolled my eyes. Yeah, too bad… Hell, if only I could clock out and leave. Anything
to get the hell out of here with James.
“You should probably get back to the warehouse,” I said, heading back into the store.
His footsteps followed me onto the concrete of the back room, and then clacked on
the tile of the floor as I rounded the corner and up to the register. “Unless,” He stopped
just short and leaned on the side of the countertop. “You want me to come back?”
I raised a brow. “That’s… How the hell are you gonna get back here?”
“Borrow my friend’s car for the night.” He pushed away from the counter. “Unless
you don’t want me to—“
“No… No, you can, if you want.” I shrugged, biting back my smile.
The bathroom door swung open, the top of a head visible behind the shelves. Right,
I’d forgotten there was a customer. “Ugh, hey buddy. You gonna clean these bathrooms?”
the guy chided.
Clean the bathrooms?
That was my usual job, but they shouldn’t be that rank, unless…
I glanced out the window. Flurries? “It’s snowing?”
“Yeah,” James walked around towards the door. “Didn’t you hear? They updated the
weather report to include Jasper and Sommersville in the advisory.”
No fucking way! This night couldn’t get any better. “Weird.”
“Well, I better get back to the warehouse.” James flashed a smile. He sauntered back
to the counter. “Give me a couple of hours, okay?”
The customer stood at the magazine racks, plastic rustled as he thumbed at the top
row. Being too distracted by our porn selection, he wouldn’t see a damn thing.
I slowly stepped towards James, leaned in and planted a tiny kiss on his lips. “Hurry
back? I’ll get pretty bored here all alone.”
James’ cheeks flushed, a sly chuckle escaped his lips. “Is that an invitation for the
morning, then?”
“Could be. Or maybe we’ll get snowed out and I’ll have to close the store again?”
“Ooh, I best get my ass in gear.” He pulled his keys from his pocket, tipped his head,
and disappeared into the back room.
I stood with a smile as the outside door slammed. The truck revved up—I could hear
the slight rumble of the license plate rattling on the old beast. I couldn’t wait until he
came back. There was no way the weather would get as bad as it had three weeks ago, but
we can always talk during my shift. And, of course, that’s not to say what we could do
once we get back to my place.
Outside, headlights came around the corner. He drove the truck past the entrance,
behind the customer’s car, and honked, before taking off across the parking lot and out
onto the highway.
Taking a quick glance of the tattoo on my arm—it had healed nicely since following
James’ advice—well, I’d think of that later. But maybe, maybe, I could consider another
tattoo. A Celtic sun. A familiar face.
The End
About the Author
Azalea Moone is a 30 – something writer of M/M romance fiction mostly of
contemporary and paranormal, but with a love for historicals and a new-found interest in
fantasy.
Born and raised in the Midwest agricultural region, Azalea loved to write horror and
suspense short stories in her teens before turning her attention to gay romance.
When she's not writing, she's either gaming, painting, or spending time with family. She
has two kids who run her ragged, a pretty little orange kitty, and an awesome boyfriend
who helps her with arts and graphics.
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