by Sabrina York
Would he, though, arrange another date through 1Night Stand? Well, he had no complaints with Rod.
“Do you mind if I ask something personal?” Rod asked. He nodded, and Rod continued. “I don’t know about you, but I thought it was interesting we had to divulge our sexual histories in the application, yet Madame Eve didn’t share your information with me.”
“Yeah, isn’t it weird?” He sighed, relieved Rod didn’t see his application. He tried to recall what he’d written to Madame Eve about his ideal match, if Rod’s name ever came up. He’d pictured the handsome French Club Sergeant-At-Arms as he wrote, but hadn’t thought the matchmaker could conjure the real thing for him.
Rod took a pull from his beer bottle, eyeing him with interest. “Have you been with many guys?”
“Not really. Two others, and only one of them lasted a year,” he said. “I date but rarely want to pursue something more.” Rarely? Try never, until tonight. “How about you?”
To his surprise, Rod held up one finger.
“You’re kidding,” he said, astonished. “Oh, I’m not saying it’s a bad thing—”
“Don’t worry. You obviously know I’m no prude.” Rod chuckled. “Derek was my best friend, and my first….”
His heart panged. So it came to this, high school talk. He listened to every word, hoping he wouldn’t slip. Rod’s face took on a dreamy expression as he talked about Derek—either the beer or his fond memories slurred his speech.
“…and would you believe we only did it just one time?” Rod bowed his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to bring down the party. It’s just…I’ve never talked to anybody about this. Not even my sister, and I tell her everything.” He laughed. “Never mind, she doesn’t know I’m here.”
“Sometimes it’s good to have something for yourself.” Did he want to hear about Derek Sigmund? Beth had mentioned earlier the man had died, though it hadn’t stopped Derek from intruding on their intimate evening.
“I owe Derek a lot, you know?” Rod rolled his head back, as though to gaze at the few stars shining through the twilight. “He helped me to accept myself. We were going to start up the brewery together and take on Anheuser-Busch.” He smirked then his face fell, and he sniffed.
“I’m sorry it didn’t happen the way you planned.” When Rod raised an eyebrow, he added, “It sounds like Derek’s not around.”
Rod nodded. “In a way. He took his own life the summer after graduation,” he said, his voice sad. “He was out in high school; I wasn’t. The other kids were merciless, called him a fag, shoved him around, and so on. They were easier on me but still unkind, and I hadn’t even come out. Guilt by association, I suppose. I tried everything to keep his spirits up, and I figured after we made love the one time, he’d stay with me.” Rod’s voice broke, along with Glenn’s heart. “It wasn’t enough, apparently. He left me a note, said he’d loved me, but he didn’t think he could live in a world full of intolerant assholes.”
“Shit, Rod, I didn’t know. I am so sorry.” He wobbled and felt ill, thinking of the same treatment he’d endured at FDR High. More than likely the same kids who bullied him had piled on Derek. What a shame he couldn’t have assured Derek many of those intolerant assholes would grow up and realize the error of their ways. But none of them had known that then. “I wish there was something I could say—”
“I know,” Rod said. “Time helped. It’s been ten years, almost. I know because my high school called not long ago about the reunion. Like hell am I showing up for any party they’re throwing.”
Glenn cringed.
“Occasionally, I wonder what it would have been like if Derek had stayed,” Rod continued. “We might have had a few good years then broken up, or we might be together still. Hard to say. I’ve lived ten years without him, and while they weren’t all perfect, at least I made it to this point.”
Glenn rested his head against his shoulder, and to his relief, the bigger man remained close. “I’m happy you decided to stick around,” he said. “I would have hated to miss this day.”
Rod turned to brush his lips in Glenn’s hair and whispered, “Thanks for listening. I’m glad I came here to meet you. It’s nice to anticipate a hot date rather than a class reunion in a gym with a group of jackasses.”
“Yeah. I imagine the chances of getting a rim job there are slim.”
Rod laughed. “You are funny.”
Glenn lifted his head. “Why did you contact 1Night Stand?” he asked. “What did you expect?”
“I wanted to close the door on the past, I guess,” Rod said. “I will never forget Derek—hell, I named my business for him—but I would like to have a meaningful relationship one day, and I’d heard good things about Madame Eve.”
“So had I.”
Rod touched his forehead to Glenn’s. “What’s your reason?”
I wanted to find you. “I’m trying to find my dream.”
“If I pinch you, will you wake up?”
He didn’t answer at first, but stood in the Jacuzzi and turned to lean over the edge. He shook his ass and said, “Give it a try.”
Rod let out a playful growl instead and scraped his teeth over Glenn’s smooth, pale skin.
Chapter Five
After the second time in the Jacuzzi, both men took their time drying off and admiring each other’s bodies. Never before had Rod spent so much time naked in the presence of another man, and he liked the freedom from clothing and embarrassment. A short discussion about dinner ran off course when Glenn stood close and cupped Rod’s balls. “Yeah, I’m ready to eat,” he said, his voice a purr.
This led to him lying in bed, perusing the room service menu, while Glenn curled at his thighs, coaxing his cock to harden using only his tongue. He traced a long, looping line from his sac to the crown, tapping and licking, while his gaze fixed on him.
Sexy as all hell. “Since you’re occupied, I’m just going to call in dinner for both of us,” he said, and his lover lifted his head long enough to consent.
“Just nothing greasy,” Glenn added then swallowed him whole.
“Shit!” He closed his eyes and arched his back. Glenn would draw him out again, with ease, and encourage another hard fuck session. They needed to eat, though. It grew late, and he doubted he could get through a marathon night of sex fueled only with beer.
He managed to place a phone order for salads and steak without screaming a climax in the operator’s ear then hung up the phone and reached for Glenn’s head. “Oh, you’re going to pay for this,” he teased and bucked his hips to increase the rhythm.
Glenn took the hint and sucked his cock in earnest with one hand wrapped around the base. Up and down, cheeks hollowed, and eyes boring into his—the man seemed to have hit some kind of zone, determined to leave him dry. He didn’t have to wait too long, though. His balls ached, and he just let go, grunting his orgasm as he shot hot cum down Glenn’s throat.
After taking the last drop, Glenn kneeled upright and licked his lips. “I was always a dessert first kind of guy.”
“I’d love to return the favor.”
“Oh, Lord. I don’t think I could handle another climax.” Glenn walked on his knees toward him, his prick bobbing but not completely hard. “Let me try a short nap.”
Before he could say anything, Glenn fell to one side, closed his eyes, and began to snore.
***
Glenn woke to near darkness, under the sheets with Rod buzzing low in slumber next to him. A tray stacked with plate covers and condiment bottles sat on a table across the room. Damn, he had to have been worn out to his bones not to hear dinner arrive.
He glanced at the nightstand on his side of the bed and spotted a note. Rod had eaten a bit without him but didn’t want to wake him up, since he slept so peacefully and needed the rest. Well, how sweet.
The other man had a strong and gorgeous body, yummy even in repose. The bedsheet twisted around his legs as Rod slept on his side. He studied the man’s nude body, all the shadow
ed dips and tight ridges of muscle. Oh, to sleep beside this every night…. He could live with it.
Then he remembered the expression of scorn on his lover’s face when Rod recalled Derek’s suffering at the hands of their classmates. He ached right along with him, wishing the three of them had been friends in high school. Perhaps he could have helped glance off some of the blows and lent a comforting ear and shoulder when Derek needed a friend.
Of course, if Derek had lived, maybe he and Rod would be a couple, and Glenn wouldn’t be in this bed. He let the quiet guilt sink in before he slid out from the covers.
Rod wanted nothing to do with the FDR High reunion, and consequently, with anybody involved in it. He still had to fulfill his commitment to serve on the planning committee—how would Rod react to the news? Even if he hadn’t been involved in the bullying that prompted Derek to commit suicide, Rod wouldn’t approve of him consorting with the people who did. Would anybody in the graduating class who picked on Derek make the connection?
He found his pants and checked his phone. Damn, almost five in the morning. According to his 1Night Stand packet, they had until checkout time to enjoy the resort amenities. As much as he wanted to stay and make love and soak in the Jacuzzi until mid-morning, the pessimistic side of him gravitated toward packing his things. Rod would find out about him one day, and a relationship couldn’t survive if he continued to harbor ill will against his old classmates. Glenn would stand as a constant reminder.
He dressed in haste and left a note by Rod’s phone. Urgent message from home, had to leave. Sorry. This was absolutely wonderful. A copout, yes, but not entirely untrue, he decided as he grasped the doorknob and exited the suite without a sound. Madame Eve had found his dream—too bad he had to wake up.
***
“Mmmm.” Rod shifted in bed and woke in slow motion, craving a hot mug of coffee and another searing blowjob. He reached next to him, eyes half-closed, to gauge where his partner lay, then shot up when he patted down an empty patch of mattress.
“Glenn?” he called out. No answer from the bathroom or patio. He didn’t bother to cover up as he searched his surroundings. When he couldn’t find Glenn’s bag, he backed down on the bed with a thump. “Shit!”
He then bounced a step and checked his bag and pants. His wallet and keys appeared intact, and a flash of guilt washed over him for even thinking the guy might have stolen anything. Why else would the man vanish and not say anything to him?
He found the note, read it, and crumpled it in his fist. “Huh.” Well, that’s that. But he couldn’t write off the date as a total disaster. The two of them had got on so well—physically and emotionally. It did hurt, though, to find Glenn hadn’t left a number to call.
Of course, if he had to dash, it might have slipped his mind. He grabbed his phone and called up a Web browser. “I’ll find you, yet,” he said, punching Glenn’s full name and Jacksonville into search. He scrolled down several improbable results—apparently a number of Mrs. Carsons who'd birthed sons about thirty years ago like the first name—until he came to the bottom of the list. He paled at the last search entry.
He called up the Facebook page created for the FDR High Class of 2004 class reunion. Among the profile pictures of members included one of Glenn. Sure enough, when he switched to the man’s personal page, he discovered the evidence: graduate of FDR High and the University of North Florida.
Damn it!
Rod raised his arm to throw the phone across the room but stopped. Instead, he flopped face first onto the bed and processed the revelation. So they were classmates—no, they attended the same school at the same time. He recalled nothing about Glenn from his years there. Given the size of the graduating class, Rod imagined he came into contact with FDR alumni from his school years on a regular basis by virtue of his business trips to Jacksonville, but he had not specified to Glenn where he had attended school.
His lover’s quick exit implied to Rod the man knew of him before this date, because why else would he sneak away? He didn’t buy the urgent call bullshit. If he had an emergency at the brewery, he wouldn’t have slinked off in a walk of shame without leaving contact information.
Rod opened his e-mail and clicked on the trash folder, where he found the initial announcement of the reunion. He hadn’t bothered to read it the first time, but now he scoured the text for a phone number, something to help him reconnect with Glenn.
He clicked on Beth Kightly’s number. He’d crossed the girl a few times in high school—everybody had. Who could ignore such an overachiever—student council president, head cheerleader, yada yada?
“Omigosh, Mumbles Maloney?” she cried after he introduced himself. “We had you on the ‘not coming’ list. Thank you for calling. Does this mean you’ve changed your mind?”
“My name is Rod,” he said, his voice clipped. “It’s always been Rod. Please address me as such.” God, he’d hated the nickname, bestowed on him as a reminder of his introverted nature. It seemed less damaging compared to what the kids had called Derek, though.
“Right. Sorry.” Beth sounded downright chagrined. “I hope you’ve called to RSVP for next weekend?”
“Well, first I wanted to confirm if Glenn Carson would be attending. I, uh, have something that belongs to him.” My desires, my heart….
“I should hope so, for all the time he’s spent putting it together with me,” Beth said. “You know, he called you earlier. Did he not get through?”
Beth’s words pierced his mind, and the phone almost slipped from his hand. Holy hell, he’d spent the last night fucking a man he’d earlier told to fuck off. No wonder Glenn had said nothing. It surprised him the man had stayed at all.
“I’ll be there,” he told Beth. “Which brings me to my next question: have you bought kegs for the bar?”
Beth answered, but he couldn’t hear it for the knock on the door. Thinking the maid had come to check on the room, he ambled to the door to beg her off. He didn’t expect to find a contrite former classmate with his head down and gaze peering through his lashes.
“I’m sorry,” Glenn whispered.
Chapter Six
“I’ll call you back.” Rod swiped the phone’s screen and moved backward.
Glenn stepped inside. Rod remained naked—taut and cut in all the right places with his impressive-even-when-limp cock bobbing with each step. So much for focus with such a delicious sight before him.
Glenn’s heart pounded in his ears, and his keys bit into his palms. He’d spent the last few hours sitting his car, unable to turn over the engine and drive away. He’d acted like a coward this morning, and he wanted Rod to know how he treasured every moment of their date—he couldn’t end it with a lousy half-truth scribbled on a hotel pad.
After a tense beat, he spoke. “I had hoped I could make this appear like I’d gone out for a walk or something then forgot my room key,” he said. “But I know you’re too smart to believe that.”
“You took your bag, I found your note, and I Googled you.” Rod held up the phone. “And I just hung up on Beth Kightly.”
“Shit,” he muttered. Flattering to learn Rod took the time to search for his contact information, but his attempted escape spoiled what had been an incredible date. “I should have been up front with you about everything. I just…I guess I didn’t want to ruin our time together with all the high school stuff coming up.”
“I understand. I wasn’t gracious to you on the phone. Then again, I couldn’t predict the future and know it was you coming to meet me,” Rod added with a chuckle. “I apologize for acting like an asshole then. You didn’t deserve it, despite my issues with FDR.”
Glenn offered him a weak smile. “I’m really sorry you and Derek had to put up with bullying back in school.”
“Don’t apologize. You weren’t the one doing it. If anything, all the put downs pushed me to succeed. How many FDR High alumni own their own breweries?” Rod stretched out an arm and Glenn fell into the embrace. They kissed, slow and
full of passion, for a minute or so before breaking up for air.
“I’m sorry I snuck out of here without saying good-bye, too,” he said.
“I gathered as much.”
“We still have an hour or two left on the room. We could order breakfast,” he stroked Rod’s chest and shoulder, “or have one last soak in the Jacuzzi.” His trailed his hand down to Rod’s bare thigh then toward his cock. “Or, you could fuck my ass.”
Rod groaned, and Glenn delighted in watching the man’s shaft harden.
“Decisions, decisions,” Rod said, and dragged him to bed.
“Weren’t you going to call Beth back?” he asked, laughing.
“Who?”
Epilogue
They arrived at the peak of the party, each man rocking a sharp designer suit. Heads turned and voices buzzed disbelief and surprise as the man once known as Mumbles approached the registration desk for his nametag. Glenn, standing close, winked at Beth as he collected their drink tickets.
“Thank you for spelling my name correctly,” Rod cracked, then set off with Glenn to find their table. The reunion committee had transformed the school gymnasium for the event—large velvet curtains in the school colors of silver and black draped the walls and folded bleachers, and round tables took up part of the floor space. At the far end, a DJ piped popular songs from senior year to the dance area, and an impressive buffet took up space against one wall. Alumni in stunning dresses and suits milled and socialized. Rod recognized a few faces—thankfully, the people who had been kind to him way back when.
“I have to warn you,” Glenn told him as they reached their table and sat down. “Mars Sothern is seated with us. Beth told me he registered at the last minute, and ours was the only table with room.”
Rod grimaced. He remembered star football player Marshall Sothern, perhaps the worst of the offenders. If he wanted to start something here, he could kiss Rod’s taut, gay ass. Then maybe I’ll rim his, show him what he missed. He chuckled.