The storm may have been raging outside, but inside, beneath the covers of his bed, Rob was dreaming blissfully of a man called Duke.
He was still half asleep when he felt himself being slowly dragged from his dreams. He didn’t fully wake up, just enough to realise that Duke was inside him, gently fucking him. He could feel a warm glow around his anus and hear soft bursts of air each time Duke thrust forwards. He smiled and drifted back into a restful slumber.
* * * *
When it came time for him to wake up properly, the bed beside him was empty. He’s downstairs making breakfast. He sat up, beaming as he stretched his arms out to the side. The air was icy and he realised he hadn’t stoked the fire before going to bed. He’d had better things to do. He laughed out loud when he thought about Duke and what they’d got up to the previous night.
But Duke wasn’t downstairs. Nor was there any evidence of breakfast being made. Rob scratched the back of his head and returned up the stairs. When he looked in the spare bedroom, he saw that Duke’s backpack was missing.
“Damned fool,” he muttered. He’s gone into town by himself!
He hurried into the bathroom and splashed some water on his face. The glass in the windows had frosted over, but the wind had obviously died. It would be freezing outside and Duke was walking around in it. After getting dressed and grabbing his coat and car keys, he pulled the front door shut and walked out to the garage. While he was waiting for the engine to warm up he tried to think why Duke would do such a thing. I told him I’d take him in.
When the car was ready, he backed out into the front yard and headed down the track towards the front gate. He pulled out onto Reynolds Road, keeping his eyes peeled for Duke. As he approached the main road into town, he began to wonder exactly how early Duke had got up. It was quite a hike to get to the main road, even if he’d cut across the fields.
He was about to turn onto the main road when a squad car went racing by. He craned his head to see if he could see the reason for Sergeant O’Malley’s haste, but the bend in the road obscured his view. Curious, Rob turned left instead of right, and drove in the direction of the squad car, eventually finding it parked not five kilometres away beside another car.
As he got out of his SUV, Sergeant O’ Malley and a man he didn’t recognise looked up at him.
“What are you doing here, Rob?”
“Sorry, Officer. Just seeing what the matter was. If you needed any help.”
The atmosphere was eerily silent. Only the crunching of the snow beneath his shoes as he walked towards the men could be heard.
“I doubt anyone can help this poor guy,” said Sergeant O’Malley.
Even before he laid eyes on the frozen body in the ditch, Rob began to feel nauseous. As he got close enough to see clearly, he gasped.
“Shit!” He turned away. Tears filled his eyes, but he did his best to sniff them back.
“You know this guy?” asked Sergeant O’Malley with a note of surprise.
Rob nodded. “He stayed at my place last night. During the storm.”
Sergeant O’Malley looked at the stranger, at the frozen body and again at Rob. “Last night?”
Rob nodded, too afraid to speak in case he choked on the tears he was barely managing to keep at bay.
“Rob, I’m no expert, but this man’s been dead for at least twenty-four hours. Mr Craig here reported it yesterday evening, but due to the storm we couldn’t get out to bring it in.”
“Then he could have been alive!” Rob growled. He shook his head, trying to shake some sense into things. “He might have just been unconscious and you left him out here!”
“I checked the pulse,” Mr Craig explained. “He was as dead as a dodo. Already frozen solid. I had a full load. Nowhere to put him. I figured it didn’t make much difference whether I left him here or not anyway. I’m sorry. Maybe that wasn’t the right thing to do.”
Sergeant O’Malley patted the man on the shoulder. “I guess you did what you thought best.”
Rob walked back towards his car as though in a daze. How could this be? He’d been speaking to Duke. They’d had dinner together. Hell, they’d fucked!
“Wait up, Rob. You said you know who this is?”
Rob stopped in his tracks, but didn’t turn around. “His name’s Darren Phillips. Ellen Masterson’s nephew.”
He waited for a response and when he didn’t get one he continued walking.
“I’ll be in touch,” the sergeant called out after him as he got into his car.
When he arrived home, he parked the SUV and hurried inside. There had to be an explanation.
“Hello? Duke?”
In the lounge there were two empty port glasses sitting on the coffee table, both with port-coloured imprints of lips on the rim. In the kitchen all the evidence had been washed up and put away. An empty container of cream in the rubbish bin could’ve been proof he wasn’t going crazy, although he couldn’t remember how much cream there’d been in the carton in the first place. He could have eaten whatever was in there by himself.
“No,” he said out loud.
Suddenly, he heard a noise upstairs. He ran out of the kitchen and through the lounge, checking the world outside his windows as he did so in case it had been the wind. But everything was as still as a graveyard. He took the stairs, two and three at a time, bounding down the small landing to his bedroom. Finding it empty he checked the guest bedroom. Empty, too.
He heard the noise again, next door, in the bathroom. He dashed to the bathroom door, throwing it open to find it steamy, despite the shower not being on.
“Hello, sexy,” said Duke. “Come and join me.”
Rob’s eyes nearly fell from their sockets. “What the…? How did you…?”
Duke laughed and beckoned Rob in. “I don’t know,” he said, grinning. “I really don’t know, but let’s enjoy whatever time we’ve got. There’s a lot of catching up to do and we barely got started last night.”
THE END
ABOUT WAYNE MANSFIELD
Wayne Mansfield is a Western Australian writer. He has been writing for nine years and has been published in Australia, the United Kingdom, and the United States. Additionally, he wrote a monthly erotic story for the German publications Macho and Dreamboys for two years. His novellas and stories usually have a horror, futuristic, or fantasy theme, although he does write contemporary stories such as The Hiding Place, which received Honorable Mention in the 2013 Rainbow Awards.
For more information, visit mansfield82.wix.com/wayne-mansfield-.
ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC
JMS Books LLC is a small queer press with competitive royalty rates publishing LGBT romance, erotic romance, and young adult fiction. Visit jms-books.com for our latest releases and submission guidelines!
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