by Troy Storm
Arm in arm, she guided him toward the kitchen area of the open-plan cottage living room. “How about we start with a nice glass of wine from one of those bottles you mentioned?”
Matt glowed. Comfortable. Sexy. No pressure. What more could a man ask? He was pretty damn sure before the evening was out, Christy Swanson, local loose lady, was going to get another look at his sexy shorts.
And he was going to get another look at her without her thong.
Chapter Three
At the second chair of The Crowning Glory, Dorothy Ardmore’s cell phone rang.
“Excuse me, Brunnie.” She flicked off the hair dryer with her thumb, the styling comb in her other hand hovering over her elder client’s stylish poof of feathery white hair. “That might be Sarabeth. She’s usually early for her appointment. I hope there’s no problem.”
Brunhilda Mendle smiled sweetly at the reflection of her ancient self in the mirror of the hair salon and gave an understanding wave of her hand. “No problem, Dotty dear. Take your time. I’ll just sit here and try to figure out how you can work the same magic on my face that you do on my hair with those talented hands.”
“Aren’t you sweet.” Dorothy put her grooming implements down and reached for the small instrument, silencing Keith Urban mid-lyric. “Hel-lo-oo,” she trilled, walking away from her station.
“Oh, Dot, she did it! She won! Already! I can’t believe it.” It was Lucy. Wailing away. “All I got was a kiss, well, I don’t mean that. A kiss from him, I mean, I’ll probably remember it all my life, but I was hoping for maybe just a little more. A real date, maybe. At least.”
Dorothy sat down in the nearest empty shampoo chair. Amelia looked over from across the salon from the first chair where she was clipping a young brunette’s bangs.
“You okay? You look…did somebody die?”
“What?” At least she could still breathe and make sounds. “No, I’m fine. It’s Lucy. You know how…you know Lucy.”
“Sweet thing,” Brunnie Mendle offered to the mirror, pushing a wayward snow-white strand back into place, “to be so efficient in the office and such a social misfit out. You are much too forgiving to your young friend, Dorothy. You should shake her up a bit.”
“I think, Brunnie, that’s what just happened. She got shook up. I’ll take this outside, okay? Be right back.” She headed for the back entrance of the shop.
Amelia cocked her head as Dorothy passed. “It’s the Matt thing, isn’t it? Poor girl is in way over her head.”
“Matt thing?” Brunnie’s elegant if elderly hand swept up to cup her ear nearest Amelia. “Matthew Bartholomew? Has someone finally shaken his tree hard enough to get some real action out of that man? I want to know all, Dotty!” she called as Dorothy bolted through the back door, passing her next client who was just arriving from the parking lot.
“I’ll be right back, Sarabeth. I’m almost finished with Brunnie. You need a wash? Angie can take you right now.” She rushed into the back parking area, looking for the nearest car to lean against, maybe a little shade. Someplace to sit. She was suddenly feeling a very strong need to get off her feet.
“I’m sorry about calling you at work,” Lucy whined into her ear. “I was going to wait ‘til tonight, and I tried, but Carmen was being so nice today that—”
“Carmen? Lucy, you never call Carmen, Carmen.” Anything to prolong re-hearing what she knew she was going to have to face.
“I know. He asked me to. At least, when there are no clients around. I don’t know how I feel about it, though. I mean, he is my boss and everything and we’ve had a really good working relationship, with me thinking of him as Mr. Anders instead of, you know, Carmen.”
Dorothy found an abandoned plastic milk crate between two giant SUVs. She flipped it on its end and sat in the shade of the behemoths.
“Lucy, let’s go back to why you called.” It was surprising how calm her voice was. Dry. Almost normal.
“Oh, right.” Lucy took a deep breath and released it. “It’s really my fault. The news, I mean. That Christy, she wanted us to get together so she could gloat—”
“‘That’ Christy, Lucy? Thank God, there’s only one. What if there were two of her? Or more? The way she looks. What did she say exactly?”
“Well, she wanted us to get together so she could make her announcement. But I just had this feeling, you know what I mean? She sounded so…so superior. So…smug…”
“Okay. Okay. And?”
“Well, I guess I got kind of excited. You know how I can get sometime. I asked what her announcement was going to be. I couldn’t wait. I needed to know right then. I mean, if it had something to do with Matt—and what else would it have to do with—I didn’t want to make a bigger fool of myself by asking for another date or something stupid. You know?”
“Another date? You had a date with Matt already?”
“Well, kinda. I was going to tell you. It just sort of happened. You know with Sam, and all. We had a really nice drive.”
“Yeah, right, your car, Sam. Go on, Lucy.”
“Well…” The breathless young woman took another deep breath.
Dorothy hopped up and kicked a nearby discarded coffee container halfway across the parking lot. She sat back down.
“She told me to calm down,” Lucy finally continued, “that she was sorry, but—”
“Sorry? Christy was sorry?”
“She said she won the bet. They had…gone to bed. Together! Her and Matt. She and Matt.”
Silence.
“Dot? Dorothy?”
“Well, I guess that’s that. I’ve…I’ve got to get back to my comb out.” It took her forever to gather her strength and push herself up off the plastic crate. Probably had square indents in her butt now, she thought. Must be gaining weight. That was where it always went. She’d have to check that.
“She still wants to get together.” Lucy’s voice was perky. “Could you? Tonight, maybe?”
“No.”
“No?”
“I’ve got a date. With…I’ve got some things to do.”
“Maybe…tomorrow? She seemed anxious to kinda talk about it.”
“I’ll bet. Blow by blow. Bang by bang. Ram it in by…I always wondered how well hung he was.”
“Oh! Gee.” Lucy giggled. “Me too.”
Dorothy stared at the phone for a second. “Did she say anything about calling me? Or was I just—”
“She seemed kind of annoyed with me for getting it out of her, so she asked me to ask you to call her. She didn’t want to disturb you at work.”
“But I have been disturbed, haven’t I?” Dorothy bit her lip. “Sorry, Lucy, I didn’t mean anything by that.”
“That’s okay. I feel kinda…empty, myself. I’m not really sure why.”
“Well, I guess it just wasn’t much of a competition.” She forced a small chuckle. “We gotta get ourselves a life, Lucy. Or lives.” She leaned against a Mercedes SUV. ‘Mercedes’ SUV? Jesus, what was CoveHaven coming to? “Lucy, would you do me a favor? Call Christy and tell her I appreciate her letting us know about what happened. And congratulations. I’m sure they’ll be…no…tell her I’m busy for the next couple of days. Maybe this weekend we can get together. Sunday. Maybe we can have lunch together Sunday.”
“You mean like after church?”
“Church? Yeah. Like, after church.”
“Sure. I’ll tell her. Uh, how do we—”
“Tell her we’ll each check with you. You can be our social secretary. You’re really good at stuff like that, Lucy. I’ll call you…maybe tomorrow. And Christy can check with you too. Thanks for calling me.”
“Yeah…sure. It’s a bummer. Right?”
Dorothy laughed out loud. “You got that right, babe. Guess I was just hoping for a little more fun and games, myself.” She was feeling a bit better. “Well, at least Matt’s back in action. I take it everything worked fine? He had no problem doing the deed.”
“She didn’t say.”
“Don’t worry. She will. We’ll get it all. Blow by…thanks again, sweetie.” She snapped the phone shut.
Dorothy leaned back against the Mercedes. Now would be the time to have a cigarette, she thought.
If she smoked.
Which she didn’t.
At least, not yet.
* * * *
Matt stared at the ceiling over his bed, his hand firmly locked around his hard morning bone. The last couple of days had been perplexing, and to be honest, he didn't like being perplexed. But look, buddy, he lectured himself severely, perplexed or not, other than being thrown a little off kilter, he sure didn't have anything to complain about.
Though the first go-round with Christy had knocked both of them for a loop, the second, later in the evening, had worked out just fine.
His dick thickened in his hand. Ready for action.
Matt glanced down, a raised eyebrow appraising. Woulda thought, after a couple of years of almost total neglect, the mighty organ would have needed a bit of revving to get up to full speed. No siree, dude. One sniff of a proffered pussy and it was more than ready to make up for lost time.
Even his kissing Lucy at the scenic overlook has produced a reaction he hadn't been expecting. Not necessarily in his dick, but surprisingly deeper inside, where it mattered.
Once he was deeper inside Christy, that sure had mattered too. He stroked more firmly. Mattered more than he had expected it to.
Except he hadn't been expecting anything. It just—bang!—had happened.
And then again, now that he thought back, maybe he had been ready for something.
The sexy shorts had set him up. The massage kid, Clayton, had set him off. Hard hands on a hard body had really worked in his case. For the first time in a long time he felt flesh on flesh. Really felt it. Underneath the skin. In the muscles. In all the stuff underneath. Some sleeping thing had been stirred awake.
If the kid could advertise that, he'd have guys lined up down the street.
Chuckling, reluctantly he let go of his awakened giant and hopped out of bed to head for the shower. Newly revived sex animal or not, he still had a full day's work ahead of him. The boiling in his groin would have to wait. He could do that. He'd been doing that for years.
He twisted on the cold water.
Saturdays were a bitch at the shop. People trying to squeeze in appointments who hadn't had a chance to stop by during the week. Families needing their car for the weekend. Hybrids acting “funny.”
By late afternoon, Buddy had pretty much everything in the bays under control and Matt had more or less gotten the outstanding paperwork in order.
Buddy perched on his boss' desk, sucking on a can of soda. Matt felt perplexity scratch at his groin.
“Buddy, where are those girly magazines you dumped on my desk last year? Didn't you say they'd be around when I needed them?”
“Oh, man, I'm sorry. They're gone. They were classics, y'know, the printed stuff? They don't even put'em out anymore. Everything's online.” He slid off the desk and from behind Matt poked at the office computer, glancing furtively toward the outer shop. “Don't tell the guys. I stashed a few prime examples away on your hard drive.”
A few clicks and scanned copies of a centerfold in all her glory appeared in more than living color before the two men. Other gloriously unadorned young ladies flicked by.
“Whoa! You mean I've had this right in front of me all this time and you never told me?”
“Not only that...” Buddy smugly swirled the mouse and came up with equally naked and equally more than protuberant young men.
“I figured if maybe you saw a couple of hot, hung dudes who were obviously getting it, you might think about how you weren't and get a move on.”
“Where did you get these guys?”
He shrugged and settled his large butt on the edge of the desk as he slugged down more soda. “An old girlfriend threw a couple of copies at me when I hit a hundred eighty and she was heading out the door. 'That's what we want, Buddy,' she yelled at me. 'I don't give a damn if most of them are gay or not, that's what we want you to look like.'” He sighed mightily. “'You are not hot!' were her last words to me.”
“Oh, yeah, I remember. About the same time as the girlies. A year, year and a half ago? You went on that grapefruit diet.”
“Cookies. Cookie diet.” He patted his belly. “I lost about twenty pounds, but then I discovered there are some dames out there who like meat on their man.”
“That's also when you gave up your gym membership,” Matt chuckled, deciding it probably wasn't the best course of action to discuss his current perturbability with his longtime and well-meaning but somewhat out-of-shape friend. “Did you think I'd never find this stuff?”
Buddy quickly closed out the pages on the computer. “Look at that computer desktop! They're right in front of you. See those little thumbnails? I hoped you would find'em. We could have got a conversation going.”
“Okay. Okay. I get that I need to clean off my desktop and, Buddy, we've had a conversation going.” He slapped his young friend on his broad back. “For about two solid years now...and it just may be beginning to pay off. Maybe. Think you can handle things here the rest of the afternoon?” He shut the laptop and slid it into the center drawer.
Buddy smirked, looking very superior. “Another hot date with the blonde bombshell?”
Matt stared, impressed. “How the fuck—”
“Old man Andrews saw Christy's four-wheel going up your driveway. The Neilson kid saw it coming out...several hours later. There was some twittering about what the town sexpot and the head of the town board of education might be discussing over such an extended period of time in the privacy of your cozy cottage.” He backed up toward the shop door, laughing, palms out in front to fend Matt off if he lunged.
“And it appears there were a couple of kids at the overlook off the Taconic who saw you and Lucy making out.”
“We did not make out!” Matt shouted, fury fighting off hilarity. “It was a chaste kiss. Damn. Is nothing private in this town?”
“You wanna hear the one about the librarian and the—”
“I do not!”
Matt was out the door of Matt's Motors.
And a few minutes later, into the perky yellow massage room of Leo’s barber shop. A quick call on his cell phone and Clay had said he'd meet Matt there. The young masseur's next and only remaining client of the day wasn't until seven.
Leo left the customer in his barbers' chair and accompanied Matt to the door leading to the back of the shop. “He's waiting for you, Matt,” he said, quietly, glancing at the waiting men customers, several chatting among themselves. “Be kind to the kid. I'm not letting him out of our bargain. A nice young man, but he needs a lesson in hard business sense.”
Nodding his head in agreement with his assessment, Leo rejoined his client as Matt shielded his eyes from the bright glare and entered the back room.
“Hi, Mr. Bartholomew. Thanks for coming in. You know, I can give you a break if you buy a card of ten.”
The kid was as eager and hopeful as ever. Matt began to undress.
“Clay, I need some advice and I figure you're the only one in town who can give it to me. You're pretty much the only one around who is, what I'm supposed to be on the school board. Objective.” He stripped down to his underwear.
“Uh, okay. Hey, I see you're wearing your sexy Near Buffs again. Pretty sharp, Mr.—”
“It's Matt, Clay. Matt. You rub my butt. Anybody who I allow to rub my butt, we had better be on a first name basis. And what the hell is a Near Buffs?”
“It's the brand name of your underwear. Didn't you know?”
“No. They were a gift. From an unknown admirer.” He stripped the garment off.
The young man's brows went up involuntarily. “Oh. Wow.”
“Is that a big deal?” Matt climbed up on the massage table and lay face down.
“Well, yeah. It's just they're pretty
sexy.”
“And the unknown admirer’s message is...?”
The masseur poured oil in his hands and gently rubbed them together, warming the liquid. “Well, I think your admirer admires your body. And you. Sexually.” He put his cupped hands holding the warm liquid on Matt's tense buttocks and began a deep tissue massage. He chuckled. “Want me to start with your ass, huh? Most of the guys won't even let me touch their butts.” He sighed. “I'm afraid I totally misjudged what I thought I had to offer the guys in this town.”
The kid's sigh bespoke of untold numbers of young entrepreneurs now in debt up to their eyebrows. Dreams fading quickly. Reality bashing its way in.
“Well, it's working for me.” Matt was already beginning to feel his vulnerability fade, his perturbability...whatever. He didn't like feeling unsettled. Clay's magic hands on his ass and up his back seemed to calm that. “And I don't think I'm all that different from my fellow CoveHavenites.” Clay had worked his way up to Matt's shoulders. “Oh, God. Yes. Deep, please. Near pain.” Clay pressed hard. Matt felt...good. The tension was being pressed out. Like stomped grapes underfoot. To make a good wine. A good local northeastern vintage.
“You're different, Mr....Matt. You want a massage. A lot of guys take a look back here, but not too many give it a try. I thought after a hard day's work at a corporate desk or something, most of the guys would really enjoy something that would get the tension out. It must be tough trying to make a living in the city with all that commuting and being away from their families. I don't know if I could handle that.”
Matt turned over on his back.
“Clay, you're gay, right?”
The young man looked at his client carefully. “Yeah. Well, mostly.”
“Mostly?” Matt searched the wary deep blue eyes.
“I've had girlfriends.” Clay began to stroke Matt's legs.
His hands created pure pleasure, pure release. Matt relaxed and poured out his history. Alice. Her death. His denial. Buddy, his friend's attempts. Then...
“Your massage really turned me on,” he concluded.