Boys Next Door

by Sommer Marsden

  I couldn’t seem to swallow or speak. I was nothing more than a giant heartbeat while he pressed his lips to mine.

  One simple kiss, almost chaste, and then he pulled back and kissed my forehead. ‘I’m looking forward to your show.’

  I groaned, letting my head tip back and clunk the tree trunk. ‘My show.’

  He grinned, white teeth flashing in the golden fall sun. ‘You can do it, Farrell. Sweetheart, haven’t you figured out yet that you can do anything?’

  He raised his coffee cup in a silent ‘cheers’ and said, ‘Now I’ll let you get back to shunning me.’

  And then he was gone. Clomping through the shallow woods in his work boots. His buffalo plaid jacket turned up at the cuffs, his dark hair still damp, the smell of him lingering on the soft wind.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I tried the burlesque thing. I did. But, Jesus. It’s a whole art form and judging by what I was reading in Joy’s book, one I would not be mastering in twenty-four hours.

  Firstly, I had zero props and zero costuming that would work. I sighed and let my head thump to the book.

  The doorbell rang and I groaned. ‘No!’

  Who would it be? Which one of them? Or maybe the mailman? My new boss? The surly sidekick? I only truly knew a few folks and for God’s sake, I was still getting to know them for real.

  I peeked through the peep hole and smiled.

  ‘Hi, Donna.’

  ‘Miss Farrell,’ she said, nodding. ‘I brought some help.’ She held up a garment bag and I stepped back to let her in.

  ‘What’s all this?’

  ‘Gear.’

  ‘For some reason that scares me.’

  I shook open the garment bag on the back of my inherited sofa.

  ‘It should.’ She smiled, walking around and touching things. ‘I haven’t been in this house since Sidney lived here.’ Her hand grazed along the soft-looking wood of the mantel. ‘Such a sad man in the end. Not being allowed to love who you love is a very tragic thing.’

  I glanced up, unsure of what to do. For some reason, I felt very protective of Sidney and Maxwell’s secrets. ‘What do you mean?’

  She blew out a sigh as I rifled through glitzy, glittery, glamorous dresses, bustiers, teddies and more.

  ‘By the way those are gathered from a whole slew of folks. I asked for their finest slut clothes.’

  I burbled with laughter, trying not to let it out – but finally giving in and guffawing in a very unladylike fashion behind my hand. ‘Oh God.’

  ‘Anyway, like I was saying, Sidney loved Maxwell.’ She pointed to the tower across the street. ‘Maxwell was responsible for that eyesore. And Maxwell loved Sidney. But honey, back then, no way. Forget it. It would have been a nightmare. And too many people knew they weren’t brothers or buddies or any of the standard cover-ups from back in the day.’

  ‘You knew!’ I said.

  ‘He was my friend. Actually, they both were. It made it even sadder when Maxwell died. Because they’d never …’ She waved her hand around. ‘Got to truly be together.’

  I waited, fingering bits of shiny smooth bedazzled fabric I knew I’d never wear. I could feel there was more coming if I just stayed quiet.

  ‘I used to have parties, back in the day, so they could “get drunk and sleep over”.’ She did air quotes and I smiled. ‘Maxie told me once those parties were the best nights of his life. Under the guise of drunkenness they got to spend quiet time together that wouldn’t be examined. Since everyone got good and stinking drunk and stayed at my house.’

  I tried to imagine this little dog groomer doing that and could barely manage. But when she grinned at me and winked, I saw a bit of that ornery streak.

  ‘Anyway!’ She clapped her hands. ‘Here I am taking up your day off and asking favours. Go through the trollop clothes and let me know if any of it works for you.’

  I knew it wouldn’t, but didn’t want to say it so fast – sort of dismissing her efforts to help. ‘Will do.’

  ‘See you tomorrow,’ she said.

  ‘Tomorrow, the salon is closed on Monday’s … Oh.’

  ‘You keep forgetting the festival is tomorrow.’

  ‘You mean I keep blocking it out.’

  ‘Monday’s a weird day for it.’

  ‘It’s genius, actually,’ I said.

  The whole town participated in some way, shape or form, Deke had explained. So the town held the fundraiser fairs on a week day. Then everyone attended, to either work it, participate in it, or whole companies came on their lunch breaks or shut down early to partake. The perks of small town living. Barring emergency medical personnel at the hospital – which was technically the next town over anyway – everyone showed up at some point.

  I was hoping that as few folks as possible would be there when I performed.

  ‘Don’t count on it,’ she said, reading my mind. ‘You’re the main draw this year, chicky.’

  And then she was gone. I gave her offering of brightly coloured shiny bits of cloth one more glance and realised what I wanted to do. And it had nothing to do with hot pink spandex.

  ‘Stay here,’ I told Brutus and headed across the street.

  * * *

  Of all the boys, Stephen was the closest to my height. He was one of the least bulky little pigs too. I could only hope that he was home from the bakery. He worked it mostly by himself, but many days he left his one worker in charge and came home for a bit. I thought maybe I was hitting the right window of time.

  His wide wooden porch was painted a grass green and my boots clomped lightly on the shiny surface. I wondered if he was taking a nap and hoped I didn’t scare him, but when I went to knock, I saw that he wasn’t napping.

  Far from it.

  Stephen was participating in what my dad had once referred to as ‘afternoon delight’. Until I’d turned bright red and squawked like a bird and he’d never made that reference again. After, of course, laughing and saying, ‘Oh, that’s right, you sprang from an egg, Farrell.’

  The man with Stephen was pretty. He was so fucking pretty I felt dowdy. His pale blond hair was fashionably long, brushing his broad shoulders. He was thin, with high cheekbones and a currently in-fashion button-down plaid shirt. Trim hips were swathed in elegantly faded jeans, and the ass in those jeans – even from the front door – looked downright biteable.

  Stephen had him wedged against the kitchen counter, his strong hands holding the man’s face, his long fingers tangled in his hair.

  I turned to run but when I glanced back, I found I couldn’t, couldn’t look away. It was too – real. Visceral and raw, and in the moment. The way Stephen kissed that boy was like he thought the kiss could save him.

  The man plucked at Stephen’s shirt and then pushed his hands up under the fabric to touch him. I could imagine the warm, smooth feel of the skin under this stranger’s fingers. The smell of yeast, sugar and warmth that came off that beautiful baker. I felt doubly bad for some reason with Stephen. As if my harshness had mangled him, which was silly – just me being protective of the underdog.

  I knew he was bisexual, he’d been very upfront about it, but seeing him like this – with another gorgeous man – it did something to me. It turned me on in a way I’d never really experienced before. And I wanted to watch.

  So I held my breath and for the second time since I moved in, I watched Stephen through a window.

  They were a study in light and dark. That sunshine-yellow hair meshing with Stephen’s black locks when they kissed deeper. The fair man clutched at Stephen, weaving his fingers along Stephen’s scalp and tugging enough that I saw the look on Stephen’s face, and imagined I could hear his gasp.

  They were mashed chest to chest, belly to belly, cock to cock. The new man in light jeans and Stephen in dark wash. He wore brown trainers with orange stripes, his lover high top Converse sneakers. The tangled together in the sunny kitchen, kissing. Until they weren’t kissing anymore. Until this new angelic-looking man hiked my r
ecent lover up onto the counter and unzipped Stephen’s jeans.

  I had to take a breath because my ears were starting to ring. I didn’t want to, though. This was all too fragile a thing, it felt wrong, to do something as noisy and clumsy as breathe. The man sank to his knees, muttering something I couldn’t hear. Something that made Stephen smile that heart-breaking smile of his.

  He licked the tip of Stephen’s cock with a rigid tongue and I felt my face react the same way Stephen’s did. A flash of surprise, which then bled into bliss and a lazy kind of pleasure. My cunt was keeping time with my crazed and galloping heart and I wanted so badly to be fucked in that moment of time that I’d have taken any one of them had they walked up behind me. I’d have even bent over and spread my legs for the mailman.

  There is a certain kind of freedom in that irrational and all-consuming kind of arousal. It made my face hot – and my cunt hotter.

  The blond man sucked slowly, like he had all the time in the world, and Stephen watched the pretty face that dipped and swayed in his lap. He traced one of the man’s high cheekbones with his fingers, said something and smiled, touched the man’s hair.

  They had the easy way of lovers who have been together before, and when the man drove his head a bit lower to suckle first one of Stephen’s balls and then the other, I bit my lower lip. He kept his big hands on Stephen’s thighs, pinning his legs to the pristine white counter that Stephen perched on like a beautiful kept bird.

  Or an angel.

  I pressed my fingers to the cool glass of the door and held my breath again as the newcomer’s head bobbed up and down, up and down, as I watched the telltale signs. The signs of impending orgasm. How Stephen’s head kept lolling back as he thrust his cock up high and into the waiting wet mouth that worked at him. How his fingers curled around the lip of the counter. How his eyes kept slamming shut despite his visible effort to watch.

  Then man cupped his balls and sucked him deep before tracing a rigid moist line from the base of Stephen’s hard on to the tip. When he drove his tongue against the small wet slit I knew was there, tasting the salty, sweet drop of pre-cum I imagined he found, and then sucked back down the length with an aggressive kind of pleasure, I heard Stephen’s groan even through the glass of his vintage front door.

  My pulse had taken up residence between my legs and I was almost positive that my heart had plummeted into my pelvis and that was why I seemed to reverberate with every beat.

  Stephen grabbed the blond’s hair and tugged him up toward him. At first the man wasn’t willing, but then he tipped his head back at something Stephen said and laughed. I studied him, the sway of golden hair, a flash of white teeth, the happiness on his lean face. I envied him, then. Maybe even felt a stab of jealousy. He looked happy and horny and when he stood, I could see his own erection pressing to his jeans.

  They were sharing this moment. I wanted to share a moment.

  But you went and pushed everyone away, genius – because you got scared.

  I shook my head and watched as Stephen yanked his lover’s button fly and the entire line of copper buttons jostled open for him. He hopped off the counter, saying something, gorgeous mouth moving as he pressed their dicks together in his doubled fists. Cock-to-cock they stood, kissing gently. Soft teasing kisses that made my throat tickle with lust.

  Stephen’s hands started to move. Big hands, that were strong from working and kneading and pressing. In his double fists he kept them trapped and his pace never slowed. He kissed the blond more insistently and the man cupped Stephen’s pretty face in his hands, ran his thumbs along Stephen’s jaw. I knew that he would hear the rasp of dark stubble under his touch.

  Stephen’s movements became frantic. Needy. Restless. The blond thrust up and against him, desperately moving against Stephen’s erection and into the motion and friction of his hands. I felt like a third party, I could feel it building like the energy in the air before a storm.

  I wondered if I would come too.

  I didn’t. But I held my breath and bit my tongue and felt my pulse in my forehead as they came. First the blond, his cries audible even from here, and then sweet Stephen. His face as serene and angelic as the night we’d spent together.

  God, he was pretty when he came.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I backed up across the porch as quietly as possible. The thing about wooden porches is they made a lot of noise – like wooden floors and wooden staircases. Now that the boys were in their afterglow, I needed to beat feet.

  I backed down the steps and when my feet were firmly on concrete I turned to flee. Only I tripped on a crack and stumbled a bit trying to right myself. Which is why I happened to look down the small alleyway between Coop’s and Stephen’s house – to see Coop watching through the window.

  I tried to be quiet but he heard me coming a few steps before I reached him. He managed to school his face at that last minute, to wipe away his shock and look stoically annoyed.

  ‘Well, lookie here,’ I chuckled. ‘Whatcha doing, Coop?’

  ‘Stephen asked me to tack his cable wire down. It’s been blowing in the wind and it’s only going to get windier.’

  I sauntered up to him, damn near giddy to have dirt on him. I stood where he was standing and then, to make up for the height difference, I stood on tiptoe and peeked. I could see them. Plain as day. Still in the kitchen – lazily kissing and talking and touching.

  While Cooper watched.

  ‘Asked you to do that while he was getting a blow job, did he?’ I managed to swallow my laughter but his face never wavered.

  ‘Sure thing.’

  ‘Right. So he asked you to do this now while he was getting a blow job. I’m sure he asked you to spy on his intimate moment with this guy?’

  Cooper turned to me, his green eyes unreadable. ‘Don’t assume you know what’s going on, Feral,’ he said, flashing me a smile. ‘You know what they say about assuming.’

  ‘I –’ I cut off my own pithy response. He looked serious. He looked sincere. It was confusing me.

  ‘Yes?’ He cocked his head, smiling. Then he turned toward his house. ‘What did you want when you were spying?’ he asked over his shoulder. ‘Because if you knew he got his knob polished, you have to have been spying yourself, girly.’

  I frowned. ‘I wanted to borrow a suit from Stephen.’

  ‘A suit?’

  I sighed. ‘Long story.’

  ‘I have suits. You want one of mine? I won’t even attack you while you’re in my house.’

  ‘Tempting, but I thought Stephen was closer to my height so it might fit better.’

  ‘You know you missed Halloween, right?’

  ‘Yes,’ I snapped. ‘It’s not for that.’

  ‘You are weird, Feral.’

  ‘What is it they say, Cooper? It takes one to know one?’

  ‘Touché,’ he said. ‘Seriously, come on in.’

  ‘I …’

  He turned to face me at the foot of his steps. ‘You scared of me, Feral?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then come on. I have a suit from about twenty pounds ago. I bet it’ll fit.’

  ‘Twenty pounds ago?’

  ‘And ten years ago,’ he laughed. ‘Before I started working out for real. Then I bulked up some and it stopped fitting.’

  ‘So why’d you keep it?’

  He shrugged, pushing open his front door. ‘I don’t have a lot; I tend to hold on to what I have, whether it suits me anymore or not.’

  I followed him in. Maybe he was referring to friends too.

  * * *

  ‘Are you sure I can use this?’ I held the black pinstriped suit up and eyed it. It was pretty darn close to what I needed, probably even a bit smaller than what Stephen would be wearing right now.

  ‘Sure. It’s just sitting there. But you have to tell me what you want it for.’ He leaned against the wall and watched me.

  ‘The performance you signed me up for, you shit.’

  He cock
ed an eyebrow and laughed. ‘Oh yeah? That doesn’t look very burlesque to me.’

  ‘Well, thanks to someone – that would be you, by the way – I was signed up for something I know nothing at all about. And I have very little time before I perform … for an audience … on a Monday.’

  ‘So?’ He laughed. It made me want to kiss him. And punch him.

  ‘So, I’m improvising.’

  ‘Ah, I see. Sorta.’

  ‘You’ll see tomorrow with everyone else.’

  ‘Try it on,’ he said, nodding to the suit.

  ‘I don’t need to.’

  ‘Try it on and I won’t tell Stephen you were peeking at him. Come on, Farrell. Do a reverse strip for Daddy.’

  I wrinkled my nose, but laughed. ‘Eew. And what makes you think I care if you tell him?’

  But I was already kicking off my boots.

  ‘You’re protective of him. You want to make sure he’s okay. And you don’t want him to know you were watching because maybe it would upset him.’

  I blushed. Was I that easy to read? I peeled off my socks and he watched me as intently as if I were peeling off my bra. I dropped them in a pile and popped the button on my jeans.

  ‘Do you hate me?’ he asked softly.

  Something in his face broke my heart a little. The question startled me. ‘What? Well …’ I shook my head and looked away. Somehow it was easier to push my jeans down to reveal my purple panties than to look at him. ‘Sometimes I think I do.’

  ‘It’s easy to do,’ he said, his eyes glued to my knickers.

  ‘You make it that way. On purpose.’

  He grinned. ‘I’d never do that.’ But his voice was a sing-song and he was lying through his pretty teeth.

  I yanked off my top and my hair flew around my face, blotting out my sight for a second. I stood there in my purple panties and my black lace bra and asked, ‘Ready?’

  ‘Nope. I want you down to nothing, sweetheart.’

  ‘Why?’