by J. M. Snyder
Bill knows just where to go.
With a slight nod, he says, “There’s a back room.” When Angie starts to protest, he raises a hand and his voice to silence her. “It’ll be fine. Just the two of us. If you’ll follow me?”
He doesn’t wait for Jamal to respond. Instead, he jingles the set of keys in his pocket and weaves through the crowd, down the aisle, heading to the locked door at the back of the store. Even though music still blares through the sound system, the crowd is quiet and Bill feels as if the world has stopped. Everyone watches him walk the length of the store. Everyone waits to see what’s going to happen next.
When he reaches the door, he turns and sees Jamal right behind him, thank goodness. If the guy hadn’t followed, he doesn’t know what he’d do. Shaking out the right key on his ring, he unlocks the door and steps inside.
The room is narrow and has two other doors, one opening to a tiny employees-only bathroom, the other to a back hall that leads out of the mall. Along one wall runs a waist-high countertop strewn with opened merchandise, price stickers, rolls of receipt tape, and promotional items—free CDs, flyers, the like. On the opposite wall hangs the time clock and a work schedule. A couple employee coats hang on a coat rack, and that’s about it.
Jamal steps into the room and instantly the place seems to pull in. Bill imagines what it might look like to someone unfamiliar with the area and suddenly it seems dingy and small. Bill waits until Jamal’s all the way inside before closing the door behind him. As he turns the lock, he sighs. “Well, that got ugly.”
“Tyrece all right,” Jamal says. The word runs together on his tongue, the consonants disappearing. Ai-ight. “He just don’t like white folk. Nothin’ ‘gainst you.”
Bill laughs nervously. “I get it. It’s not personal.”
“Me, though. I like white meat.”
Jamal turns and pins Bill with a smoldering stare. Bill backs up against the door, hand on the knob, heart in his throat. With the deadly grace of a panther, Jamal closes the distance between them until he’s right up in Bill’s space. There’s a scant inch of room separating them, nothing more, and even that disappears when Jamal thrusts his hips forward, pressing the bulge at his crotch into Bill’s groin.
Oh, God, Bill thinks, mind racing. Oh, please. God, yes. I know there’s ten inches in there, and I want every last one.
Before he can say anything, Jamal leans down and covers Bill’s mouth with a heady, soulful kiss.
* * * *
Jamal and Bill met over the summer when Jamal held down a sales job at Jimmy Jazz, a clothing store in the mall catering to a hip-hop crowd. Everyone at Jimmy’s usually finds their way down to Da Hot Spot sooner or later, customers and associates alike. The moment Jamal entered the music store, Bill noticed him immediately—well-dressed in his work clothes, slightly older than the rest of the kids who hung out at the mall during the summer, and God, so damn sexy. Trying to be discreet and failing miserably, Bill began restocking any display near Jamal every time the guy came into the music store. He spent a few days checking Jamal out of the corner of his eye before, one day, he looked over and saw Jamal staring back. He ducked his head, shuffled a pile of CDs, and looked again.
Jamal watched him, a bemused smirk tugging at his mouth. “You got somethin’ to say to me?”
“No, I…” The CDs tumbled from Bill’s hands to clatter on the floor and he disappeared behind the display, cheeks burning with embarrassment as he stooped to pick them up. Under his breath, he muttered, “God, no.”
But Jamal stepped around the display and squatted beside Bill. As they restacked the CDs together, Jamal’s large, warm hands covered Bill’s, holding them a long moment until Bill finally dared to look up at him. The smirk was gone, replaced by an almost shy grin. “I work ‘til closing. You want to hang out after that?”
One night turned into a week, then two. They both worked nights, so they met after the mall closed and spent their evenings driving around town or parking in empty lots until after midnight. They ran with different crowds—Bill has a good six years on Jamal, easy, though neither ever admitted his age to the other. They never saw each other during the day, either, but when they managed to get together after dark, they couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.
Romance sizzled between them for three months, but in August Jamal had to leave for his senior year at Cornell in New York. Four hundred miles separated them, but they kept in touch through email and texts, and weekly phone calls that ran so long, Bill had to switch cell phone plans to avoid paying for long distance. Then Jamal said he’d be down to visit his family for winter break and did Bill want to get together again?
Hell, yeah. Bill could hardly wait
* * * *
Pushing aside the mess on the countertop, Bill clears a spot to sit. He’s been on his feet all day, and the moment his weight rests on the counter, his feet tingle with relief. With a tug on Jamal’s jacket to keep them together, Bill unzips the bulky coat and eases his arms inside, around Jamal’s waist, clasping his hands behind Jamal’s back. Resting his head on Jamal’s chest, Bill hugs him tight. “Jesus, it’s good to see you again.”
Jamal’s hands play through Bill’s short chestnut hair. “You knew I was coming.”
“Not yet, I hope,” Bill teases, dropping his hands to squeeze Jamal’s ass. He arches his head back and sets his chin in the center of the Adidas logo on the sweatshirt Jamal wears. “Kiss me again.”
Jamal obliges, cupping Bill’s face with his large hands. He smells wonderful, a heady mix of sweat and cologne, a scent Bill hasn’t realized he missed until it wafts around him. Spreading his legs, he pulls Jamal into the space between them and holds him close. The store and its employees, the customers, everything beyond this small room has disappeared. The only thing remaining is Jamal.
Jamal. Who nibbles gently on Bill’s lips, prolonging their kiss for a moment before setting his forehead against Bill’s. This close, Bill can see the sparks of gold flashing in Jamal’s honey-colored eyes and he stares into them hungrily. He wants another kiss, and another, and so much more.
But when he puckers his mouth to touch Jamal’s, the sexy black man laughs. “You a horny fucker.”
“Damn right. I’ve missed you.” Bill presses forward and claims that kiss anyway. “When’d you get back in town?”
Jamal frowns. “Din’t you get my text?”
Squeezing his knees against Jamal’s thighs, Bill says, “Last night, the one that said you’d found a ride off campus. I didn’t know you were leaving today.”
A wide grin spreads across Jamal’s face. “I wanted to surprise you.”
“I’m surprised,” Bill admits with a laugh. “I didn’t even know you were here until Angie said she thought you were shoplifting.”
“What’s that all about?” Jamal wants to know.
Bill shrugs. “Nonsense. She saw you checking me out—”
“You still my man,” Jamal reminds him. “Ain’t nobody else supposed to be looking but me.”
Resting his head on Jamal’s chest again, Bill sighs. “Yeah, well, she thought you were keeping an eye out to make sure I didn’t see you take anything. You could’ve at least called and let me know you were back.”
“I did!” Jamal protests. “I been calling your fool ass all night.”
Bill groans. “My cell’s in my coat! Damn it!”
With a laugh, Jamal says, “I finally said the hell wit’ it and come down here myself. My mom made me bring my cousin along or I’d’ve just said hey.”
“It’s like that, eh?” Bill asks, though to be honest, he didn’t exactly fill Angie in on their relationship, either.
“Tyrece, he cool.” Jamal shrugs, settling his body snugly against Bill’s. “He just a little quick to blame other people for his problems.”
“I didn’t even stop him,” Bill points out. “I was talking to you.”
Jamal shakes his head and kisses Bill’s temple. “You white. He think that mean
you talking to him any time you blame a black guy for shit. Everything’s about color to a guy like Ty.”
“Yeah, well,” Bill says with a sigh, “lucky I didn’t fall for him.”
That sets Jamal snickering. “True dat, my man. Fo’ sho.” Taking a step back, he gives Bill a half-teasing, half-serious look and asks, “Ain’t you s’posed to be friskin’ me or somethin’ here?”
“I know you didn’t take anything,” Bill says. Still, he grins as he rubs his hands up the small of Jamal’s back, then dips them down into Jamal’s sweats. He’s surprised when he feels smooth skin in his palms. “Are you going commando?”
“I got somethin’ on.” Jamal hugs Bill again and sighs as Bill massages his butt. “Man, that feels nice.”
“It’s nothing but bare ass.” Bill runs his hands around Jamal’s hips to cup the bulge in front. He feels silky fabric and frowns. “This isn’t a jock strap.”
In one fluid motion, Jamal drops the sweats to his knees, baring his crotch. “It’s a thong. Only the best for my boys.”
Sure enough, a tiny triangle of bright blue silk is all that hides his genitals from view. The fabric strains against the thick cock crammed behind it—where the edges pouch open, Bill sees dark tufts of curly hair and the hint of shadowy skin. Like magnets, his hands are drawn to the puckered openings. He eases his fingers inside, glancing over veined skin already stiffening under his touch.
Jamal moans as Bill fondles his cock. “You know I don’t have no CD crammed up in there.”
“I should really check,” Bill says with a grin. “Just to be sure…”
“You just want to see my dick.” Jamal grips Bill’s shoulders and thrusts into the hands now wrapped around his length. “Jesus, man.”
Peeling down the blue thong, Bill admits, “I want to do so much more than just see it.”
The ruddy tip juts out of the silk first, flared and already damp. As Bill pulls the thong lower, he exposes the rest of Jamal’s hard shaft, the thick, black cock standing up from a bed of kinked hair, the heavy tip dipping slightly toward Bill. Jamal’s cock has a downward curve to it Bill finds exciting—when they have sex, that curve allows Jamal to go farther in him than Bill’s ever taken another, touching off sparks of lust deep inside. Below the arched cock, Jamal’s nut sac hangs low, the skin almost buttery to the touch.
Before he can stop himself, Bill slips off the counter to kneel before Jamal and takes the length of cock into his mouth. He loves how pale his hands look splayed against Jamal’s brown-black flesh, how the inches of Jamal’s dick seem to disappear between his lips as he takes Jamal in. He tastes salty and a little bittersweet, and this close his scent is intoxicating, a mix of musk and sweat and something so primal, so raw, it can only belong to one man. Bill wraps his arms around Jamal’s narrow hips and cups one ass cheek in each hand, lifting them, spreading them apart, then pulling them closer to drive Jamal’s dick deeper into him.
God, he wants this so bad.
Above him, Jamal fists his hands in Bill’s short hair and bucks his hips to fuck into the willing mouth around his cock. “Yes,” he sighs, his words slurring together. “Jeez, yes, God, yeah, fuck yeah. Take it, take it all.”
Bill obeys, opening wider to accommodate Jamal’s length. He feels the cock harden between his cheeks, feels the skin tighten as he swirls down along the length, tastes the first dribble of pre-cum in the back of his throat. He wants this, yes, but not only this. He wants so much more.
Pulling back, Bill lets Jamal’s wet dick slip free from his lips. He stands, already unzipping his slacks before Jamal realizes what he’s doing. “Man, right here?”
“I need you,” Bill says simply. Nothing else matters at the moment.
He drops his slacks to his feet and turns, tugging his briefs halfway down his thighs. As he leans over the countertop, his backside exposed, he feels something hard and hot and wet press against the crack in his ass—Jamal steps up behind Bill and, spreading Bill’s buttocks wide, rubs his slick dick between them. “Bareback?” Jamal asks, thrusting up Bill’s crevice again.
Bill feels Jamal’s nuts bump against his, a maddening sensation. “I got a condom in my wallet.” Then, remembering he dropped his pants, he adds, “On the floor.”
“Man,” Jamal whines playfully.
He shuffles back and stoops to retrieve the wallet from Bill’s pocket. He seems to take longer than he should—Bill’s all too aware of the fact he’s standing here in the back room of his store bare-assed, and there’s still a crowd up front waiting for him and Jamal to return. What’s Jamal looking for back there anyway? Over his shoulder, Bill calls, “Can’t you find it?”
Suddenly a warm tongue licks between his ass cheeks, delving into his anus. Bill rises up on tiptoes, his whole body coming alive. “Oh, God, yes,” he gasps as Jamal’s tongue snakes into him. His breath catches in his chest, his head spins—he feels faint. “Yes, yes, yes, that’s it. That’s it.”
Jamal licks up the crack of Bill’s ass and plants a kiss in the small of his back. Then he stands and, leaning over Bill, whispers, “Found it.”
“God,” Bill sighs. “Take me already, will you?”
Jamal has already put on the condom—Bill feels a cool wetness press between his buttocks as Jamal positions himself. Large hands hold Bill’s hips steady in a firm grip, thumbs rubbing Bill’s ass in opposing concentric circles, tugging his cheeks open then pushing them together, open again, together, open…
The fat tip of Jamal’s cock pokes his tight hole. The bright pain of entry dissolves as Jamal eases the full length of his dick inside Bill’s ass. With a moan of delight, Bill spreads his legs wide, his feet sliding easily on the tile floor to slide himself down on Jamal’s length. It goes in deep, all the way, until the root of Jamal’s shaft bumps up against Bill’s flat butt. Leaning facedown on the countertop, Bill reaches for his own erection with both hands—one squeezes his swollen cock while the other delves farther to cup both his ball sac and Jamal’s, butting up against it. “Yes,” he gasps, his breath fluttering a stack of old timecards from last week on the countertop nearby. “God, Jamal, fuck me, yes, yes!”
Jamal doesn’t pull out so much as wriggle in place—sex with him is different from anything Bill’s experienced before. His hips swivel with a dancer’s, grinding into Bill as if grooving to music. Each little movement screws him in tighter, and his curved cock knocks Bill’s prostate with a drumline rhythm that works Bill into a frenzy. Jamal falls into beat with the hip-hop music thudding the walls, pounding Bill’s ass with that same fast tempo that trips through the store’s sound system. Like the underlying harmony accompanying the song, Bill strokes his cock as Jamal fucks him, adding a slower counterpoint to the pace. Words escape him as his brain focuses on the pleasure surging through him; he’s lost in the music around him, the man within him, the cadence of lust filling him body and soul. Closing his eyes, he gives into Jamal completely as a guttural uh, uh, uh from his throat keeps time with their coupling.
Behind him, Jamal murmurs in a sultry, smoked-out voice. Nonsense words and desirous moans, mostly, but every now and then he says, “Uh-huh, that’s right, that’s it, take it in, take it in.” His hands are tight on Bill’s hips, holding his lover in place. When he widens his stance a little and leans down over the countertop, hips pistoning at a frantic pace, Bill feels Jamal’s weight on his back and knows he’s close to coming. They both are, but Bill gets there first, his cock spasming in his hand, his palm suddenly sticky. He massages his nuts as he milks out the orgasm, waiting for the rush of heat in his ass to tell him Jamal got off, too.
When it comes, it triggers another, more powerful climax, and Bill’s voice breaks with lust. “Fuck yeah.”
Jamal doesn’t withdraw right away. He leans heavily on Bill, exhausted, pinning Bill to the countertop and keeping him in place. His hands run up Bill’s sides, over his back, over his shoulders, then around Bill’s head to cradle it. Turning Bill’s face to one side, Jamal kisses
the corner of Bill’s mouth tenderly. “Damn, I missed that.”
Bill shifts under him, unwilling to lose this moment of intimacy. He puckers his lips, enticing Jamal to kiss him again.
“I missed you.” Jamal takes the invitation and kisses Bill again, with a hint of tongue this time. His mouth feels so soft against Bill’s own. “If you had another rubber, we could do it again.”
Bill grins against Jamal’s lips. “The mall closes in an hour.”
The thought almost stops his heart. The mall. They have to get back up front.
* * * *
This time, Jamal leads the way and Bill follows, his gaze glued to the sexy swagger in front of him that pulls Jamal’s sweats taut across his buttocks with each step. Most of the crowd has dispersed, though a few on-lookers mill around the store’s entrance, waiting to see what will happen next. Tyrece is there, too, an angry scowl marring his young face. When Jamal’s close enough, Tyrece asks, “What the hell happened back there?”
“Nothin’, man,” Jamal assures him. “We cool.”
Angie cowers behind the register, watching Bill with wide eyes, one hand hovering near the phone in case she was right and has to call security. Bill shakes his head to tell her that won’t be necessary.
At the entrance, Jamal stops to shrug his jacket into place. To Tyrece, he asks, “You ready?”
“Mr. Bey, I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding.” Bill sticks out a hand and tries to look ashamed. It isn’t hard—he is sorry for the scene that was caused, but he’d give anything to be in the back room again with Jamal, alone. Tonight, he reminds himself. As soon as the mall closes, he’ll rush everyone through clean-up and leave the re-stocking until tomorrow. He has plans now.
Jamal glances at Bill’s offered hand but doesn’t take it. They’ve fallen into the parts they’re supposed to play, roles Bill wishes they could do away with, but what would people like Angie or Tyrece say if they knew what had just happened in the back? If they knew what fiery emotions burned in Bill’s and Jamal’s hearts, enflamed their loins? Angie really would call security then.