by Kris Klein
Then the shyness crept back into those blue-green eyes, at least a little. “I have Thursday off,” he said. “Okay to drop by and hang out?”
I was still trying to recover from learning this “little hottie”—whom I’d connected with so strongly tonight—was gay. Somehow, I still found my voice. “Uhh, sure—of course! I get off at four, I think; should be home by four-thirty.”
“Cool—I’ll email you.”
“Only we’ll go out for dinner or something; maybe a movie. Make it a legit date.”
“Sweet, man.”
I walked him downstairs, to his black Ford pickup, and gave him a huge hug goodbye—in return receiving maybe the warmest hug I’d ever known. After his truck pulled away, I went upstairs and got right back on the computer, deleting my Craigslist ad and all the responses I’d received (except Chuck’s) from my email. What I thought had been a cool, albeit sneaky way to bed some dim-witted straight guys was now, I realized, a mean-spirited scam that could have really backfired on me. Thank God it had done so already—in the best way possible.
Showered or not, drowsiness was now creeping up on me. I was about to sign off gmail, when the self-refreshing feature on my inbox pumped another brand new message to the top of the screen. The sender was a tmail address—a cell phone—and when I saw the subject line—“Total hottie saying good night”—I rushed to open it.
By the way, the email read. You have a great ass. See you Thursday. Chuck.
I smiled, shut down my computer, and stumbled half-asleep to my bedroom. There was so much I wanted to say to him…so much it was too early to say to him…but responding to his email could wait until tomorrow, after I’d sorted out my head.
I hoped he’d come back. Hoped, deep down, this was a beginning—that the stupid ad I’d posted on Craigslist hadn’t been on long enough to cost me a whole bunch of bad karma points.
Only time would tell.
The End
ABOUT KRIS KLEIN
KRIS KLEIN has been writing tales of male-male love and lust since he first published in Torso magazine in 1996. More than a dozen years and fifty stories later, you can still find his work in numerous magazines and anthologies, as well as online. Known for stories ranging from the horniest of hardcore to the most reverently romantic, Klein’s work reflects both his own high-octane sexual appetite…as well as his belief that gay men can still form loving, committed relationships when all is said and done. You can read more about Kris, his work and career, at www.krisklein.blogspot.com.
If you enjoyed THE BROTHERS DIM, you might also enjoy:
EAST MEETS WES
By Kris Klein
Still nursing a broken heart over the ending of his relationship with Matt, Wes decides its best to pack up and leave Phoenix for good. He takes a job in Seattle, and in preparing to move decides to sell off most of his and Matt’s household possessions…including some valuable pieces of artwork that had been Matt’s favorites. Enter Robert, a blue collar, short and very well-built straight Asian welder-a budding tattoo artist with an eye for fine art who shows up at Wes’ door with the desire to buy but no green to back it up. But Wes, a skillful negotiator, finds other things Robert has that he wants…and indeed, before the evening is over, the divorced, rugged straight man finds the valuable abstract paintings he wants so badly may cost him a lot more then he’s willing to pay…or is he?
Warnings: This title contains graphic language, m/m sex, coercion, anal sex.
Excerpt From EAST MEETS WES:
He was sitting to my left, on the couch, and I caught sight again of the various artwork and designs tattooed up and down his right arm. Casually, I gestured at it. “Looks like you’ve collected some cool artwork already,” I told him.
“Oh, you like it?” Robert rolled up the right sleeve of his gray tee, all the way up to his shoulder, to reveal outlines of even more work, yet to be inked in. Even better, he was now showing off one hell of a muscular bicep. “It’s all my own work,” he said, beaming.
“Really? You drew everything?” I leaned in closer to look.
“Yeah,” Robert answered, proud to admit it. “Well, they’re my designs; I gave them to the guy, and he’s slowly getting them all tattooed onto my arm in a sleeve. Anyway, yeah-they’re my designs.”
I really was impressed-the guy would have made one hell of a graphic novel artist, and I told him so.
“You think so? I just do it for me.” He rolled the sleeve of his t-shirt down again, as I sat back on the couch. Even his fingers were long, clean and well-maintained. Sexy. “So okay Wes, let’s get this out of the way-how much did these cost you?” he asked, gesturing with a thumb at the paintings on the wall behind us.
“Fifteen-hundred dollars.”
Robert’s mouth fell open. “You’re shittin’ me.”
I shook my head. “Nope. Believe it or not, that’s with the $600 discount.”
Robert fell back onto the couch hard. “Damn.”
“I probably wouldn’t ask that much for them, though,” I added. “Besides, I’m always willing to negotiate.”
Robert laughed, looking over at me. “Man, I couldn’t afford anywhere near that. Not with all the negotiating in the world. And I don’t dare ask ya how much for the big one, so I guess that’s that…”
He started to rise but I caught hold of his arm, pulling him back down to the couch. “Hey man-ya never know. For instance-let’s say I started off by saying I thought twelve hundred was a fair price for the big one. Then your counter-offer would be…?”
Robert laughed. “Dude, like I said-that’s still not even in my ballpark, money-wise.”
I shrugged, so turned on by him now I could almost taste his skin. He smelled of Tag body spray and a scent unique to him-clean, yet musky and masculine-and it was driving me crazy. “There are other methods of bartering besides money,” I said.
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