by J. M. Snyder
“You didn’t think I knew, did you?” he commented, leaning back in his chair, hands folded on his stomach.
Since he called me on it, I was forced to be truthful. “No, I didn’t. I was hoping you wouldn’t notice how pathetic I was when it came to you.”
“Hey, no. Don’t say that. Matters of the heart are what they are, and we can’t help them, especially when the feeling is real.” He looked at the table for a second then focused on me again. “Bransworth is a nice guy, but I couldn’t give him what he needed, what he desperately wanted, which was my undivided attention.”
I was confused. “Why not?”
“Because, ever since I met you, I’ve found myself conflicted.”
I wanted to believe what he implied, but it seemed too good to be true. “You’re saying…”
“I’m saying that I have feelings for you, too, and it wasn’t fair to Bransworth that I couldn’t be everything he wanted. So I broke us up.”
Maybe it was the heat, but I felt lightheaded. “You…what…” How did I respond to something I’d been longing for suddenly being made available?
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spring this on you, but I had to let you know.”
Hot damn!
Gathering my wits from where they’d gone, I said, “So what does that mean, for us, I guess?”
He blushed, something I’d never seen him do before. “If you’re interested, I’d like to spend time with you, one-on-one. I mean, we already know each other in a work environment. Would you, uh, be interested in…more?”
“Fuck yeah!” I said, so loudly that half the restaurant stopped talking and stared. “Sorry.” I knew my face was on fire.
Jenson laughed. “It’s all right. Your enthusiasm echoes mine. Hey,” he continued, leaning forward earnestly. “How about we go our separate ways, clean up, then meet back here when the sun has gone down a bit?”
I stared at him in horror. “Tell me our first date won’t be another climb up this Godforsaken rock.”
He chuckled. “No, Stace. I live in this area, remember?” I’d forgotten that. “I thought we could spend some time in my stomping grounds. I could show you a good time without too much exertion, unless you want to, of course.” His grin said, yes, he definitely wanted to. I was sure my bright red face reflected the same wish.
“Sounds good, except I don’t have a working car right now, and I carpooled up here with some of the other employees. Would you mind meeting me half way?”
“Sorry, I forgot about the car thing. How about I pick you up at the Indian Creek train station then? Six o’clock?”
“Perfect. It’s a date.”
He leered at me. “You bet your sweet ass, it’s a date.”
* * * *
Hours later, after enduring a car ride with smelly, talkative coworkers who ignored me, I stood in front of my bathroom mirror to inspect my reflection.
I hoped I didn’t look like I was trying too hard, but I definitely wanted to make a good impression. It wasn’t as though I had that many dates or boyfriends in my past, but I knew what I wanted, and that was most certainly Jenson Sommers.
The white and black, short-sleeved, pinstriped shirt, which I left open over a tight T-shirt, was new. Yes, I’d gone to the Target near my place and bought a shirt. I paired them with gray slacks and black loafers.
Though I was stocky, I wasn’t overweight, which was a wonder since I sat behind a desk all day. I used a stationary bicycle—Shh, don’t tell anyone—in my apartment every once in a while as I worked on my laptop. It was the most exercise I would allow on my person, aside from sex.
Curly brown hair framed my round face in a way I thought was unflattering, considering its tendency to frizz in the heat. I tended to keep it short because of that, but I hadn’t had a chance to go to the barber yet to chop the locks.
I couldn’t do anything about my plain features or uninteresting blue eyes, but it seemed that Jenson was interested, despite all that. One last look, then I left the bathroom, grabbed my wallet, cell phone, and keys and left the apartment.
Since it was Friday evening, clueless Atlanta Braves fans crowded the aisles and seats on the train as we headed south, and it took all my patience not to yell at them for their stupidity. How do you not know where you get off the train for the game? Jesus.
I switched lines at Five Points and headed east to Indian Creek. When I finally got to the kiss-and-ride parking lot, I was ready for air conditioning. The eastbound train had been stifling since the air was broken. Not great when surrounded by sweaty, dirty construction workers. Well, okay, it wasn’t really that bad, but still.
A wall of even hotter air assaulted me when I got off the train, causing me to break out in a sweat under my arms. In all my anxiety to get ready for my date, I’d forgotten that the heat was not my friend and didn’t take a change of clothing.
Which meant that, by the time I spotted Jenson waving at me from his car in the parking lot, I was a damp mess, my hair was doing its thing, and I was miserable.
“Why do you look fresh as a daisy while I feel like a limp rag?” I groused as I sat beside him in his car, cool air blasting in my direction.
“You poor thing,” he said. “Don’t you always bring a change of clothes wherever you go?” He pulled out of the parking lot and headed for the freeway.
“Yeah, well, I was nervous, and this is what it got me.” I was thoroughly disgusted with myself.
As he changed lanes, he made the comment, “Well, as far as I’m concerned, you’re like a cute, frizzy little badger.”
My dignity was affronted. “I beg your pardon?” I used the rearview mirror on my side of the car to see if I could rescue my hair, but it was a lost cause.
“Seriously, man, it’s adorable how you’re always so worried about every crease, wrinkle, or wet spot on your clothing, or whether or not you can tame your hair. You can’t be pristine all the time, you know. It’s okay to get a little dirty and sweaty, wouldn’t you agree? Under the right circumstances?” His suggestive tone made me feel hot all over again, despite the delightfully frigid air in the car.
“Yes, well, I wanted to make a good impression and—”
“And nothing. You don’t have to impress me. You had me that first day when you spilled coffee all over your crisp white shirt and shrieked like a girl.”
I was mortified. “Shit.”
* * * *
Less than half an hour later, we arrived on Main Street, the main thoroughfare in Stone Mountain Village, and parked near the Sweet Potato Café.
Jenson and I left his car and walked to the restaurant. He opened the door for me, and I smiled my thanks. After we were seated and received menus and water, I looked over the offerings to decide what I wanted to eat.
It was a farm-to-table concept, which I found very appealing. I chose the sweet potato, corn, and black bean hash. It came with jalapeño cornbread. Jenson ordered the barbecue beef brisket and sweet potato soufflé. We both asked for a side salad and shared a bottle of white wine.
“This place is wonderful,” I said. “Do you eat here often?”
“Only on special occasions.” His eyes gave away his meaning.
I blushed at the implication. “I see.” I sipped my wine and looked over at the three-piece jazz ensemble that played nearby. “It’s quite a find.”
“Perfect for a hot summer afternoon after a harrowing climb up a mountain, wouldn’t you agree?”
I snickered. “Hell, you could have promised me dry bread and water in an air-conditioned car, and I’d have kissed you senseless.”
“Good to know,” he replied.
By the time our main meal arrived, I was relaxed and ready to eat. I hadn’t completely forgotten about my less-than-immaculate appearance, but Jenson made me feel as if it didn’t matter what I wore, if anything at all. That was a first for me.
While we enjoyed our food and chatted a little, I took note of the shine in his eyes and his apparent delight in being in
my company. It made me feel so special, it was scary. The way he completely focused on me, the heat in those eyes burned hotter than anything I’d ever felt.
“Oh, I forgot to mention,” he said. “I got us tickets to a play this evening, put on by the ART Station Theatre company. It’s a Sherlock Holmes’ spoof. I’ve seen it once, so I can highly recommend it. It’s equal parts laugh-out-loud funny, and disturbing. I thought you might enjoy it.”
“You’ve got my vote.” Even if I hadn’t been interested in the theatre, I would have still gone with him, just to spend more time in his presence.
“Dessert?” the waitress asked when she stopped by our table to clear the dishes.
“What’s on offer?” Jenson queried.
“Sweet potato cheesecake.”
I moaned audibly, and both Jenson and the waitress laughed at me.
“I guess that’s a yes,” he said. “Two, please?”
“Back in a jiff,” she replied.
When she’d gone, Jenson said, “See what I mean? Cute beyond belief.”
* * * *
Fifteen minutes later, Jenson and I made our way to the ART Station building, just in time to catch the start of the play. He was right. It was a wonderful mix of the humorous and chilling that had me, along with the rest of the audience, on the edge of our seats.
At one point, I grabbed Jenson’s hand and squeezed hard enough to make him grunt, but he didn’t complain. When the play ended, I was among the many who gave the actors a standing ovation.
On the street outside, night had fallen, and the air, though not as hot as during the daytime, was muggy and still.
“I loved it!” I gushed. “Thanks so much for that. I’d definitely see it again.”
He grabbed my hand, and we walked together back to his car. “It’s a short run production, but they’ll be playing until the end of the month.”
“Good to know.”
When we got into his car, Jenson asked, “So where’d you like to go now? Dancing? Iced tea? My house?” His last suggestion was accompanied by a leer, which seemed…sinister in the street light. I shook it off. I was probably seeing things. Maybe I still had Sherlock, murder and mayhem on the brain.
Might as well be bold. “Well, we can do both the dancing and iced tea at your house, can’t we?”
Apparently I’d given him the right answer because the tires peeled as we backed out of the parking space and took off like a bat out of hell, within the speed limits, of course. Police in this area were no joke, from what I’d heard in the past.
Jenson’s house was on a half-acre lot on Redan Road. I noted that it was also on the bus line, which could be helpful in the future, if this—whatever it was between us—built into something more. After all, I had no idea when I’d get my car fixed.
“How long have you lived here?” I asked as he led the way up the steps to the front door.
“Since last year. My parents turned it over to me when they retired to Mexico. Lots of great family memories in this place.”
I followed Jenson inside, eventually ending up in the den next to what I assumed was one of the bedrooms. There were pictures everywhere of family get-togethers and school events. Jenson had younger siblings, all of whom lived outside of the state of Georgia, he told me. Trophies from athletic meets in high school and college were kept in a glass case near the huge TV.
While he prepared our iced tea in the kitchen, I surveyed his music collection and chose a Jesse Cook CD. I thought it was a good sign that we both liked the guitar virtuoso. One of my favorite songs, Tempest, played in the background while I shimmied my hips from photo to photo, smiling at some of the goofy expressions on Jenson’s face when he was much younger.
“You weren’t kidding about dancing, were you?” Jenson said when he arrived in the living room, carrying two tall, full glasses with a lemon wedge on each one.
I took one from him. “No, I wasn’t. I love Jesse Cook.”
“I know. It’s the ringtone on your cell phone.”
“So you bought that album…just for me?” Should I be flattered or suspicious?
He was quick to assure me. “I just wanted you to be comfortable here, is all. Can’t blame a guy for trying.”
“You took it for granted that I’d end up here with you. That’s either presumptuous, or I’m too easy to read.”
“Does it matter, the how or why? We’re here now, right?” He gave me a wide smile, and I decided it didn’t matter, in the big scheme of things.
I was a little disappointed that it wasn’t more than that, but, hey, I was here and would make the most of it. I shook off my misgivings as I stood next to him, swaying to the music as we drank from our glasses.
I pointed to one of the biggest trophies I’d ever seen. “What’s that one for?”
“Oh, that was for Jenny. Her soccer team won the national championship. It’s as heavy as it looks.”
“I bet.” I finished my drink and moved to place the glass on the low table in front of the dark green leather couch. “May I have this dance?” I batted my eyelashes at him.
“You may, Your Highness,” he replied, putting his glass next to mine on the table and taking me into his arms. “I’ve wanted to dance with you for a long time now.”
“Ditto.”
My head barely made it to his chin. His slender, sinewy frame felt good against mine, and we moved together like we’d been doing it all our lives.
“Where’d you learn to dance like this?” I asked, tilting my chin so I could watch his facial expressions.
“My parents were champions in local competitions many years running. I was the only one of the kids interested in learning how to dance. Eventually, I won a few myself.”
He dipped me over his arm, and then, to my surprise, kissed me softly on the lips.
My shock soon gave way to pleasure as I opened to his probing tongue. Not losing touch with my mouth, Jenson pulled me up into his arms and a dance of another kind began.
Music forgotten, we moved to our own tune as I grasped his shoulders tightly and accepted everything he had to give. He took me. That was the only way to describe it. His mouth told mine how to move, when to breathe. Jenson owned my every thought.
“Shit,” I whispered when he finally moved to suckle my earlobe. “I…damn.” I forgot my words as he licked a path along my neck and sniffed my collarbone.
“Your sweaty scent makes my mouth water,” he mumbled as he moved back and pulled the open shirt off my shoulders.
“I hope I’m not too icky,” I murmured as he removed my T-shirt and then kneeled before me.
“I love the smell of a musky man. Turns me on like you wouldn’t believe,” he replied and took off my belt.
As he unzipped my jeans and pushed them down my legs, I responded, “That’s a good thing, since the heat has made me very musky.”
He pushed down my boxers and grabbed hold of my semi-hard cock. “I’ve always wanted to dirty you up a little bit. I’m so happy I finally have the chance.”
Jenson swallowed my cock and grabbed my balls at the same time, forcing a shout from my throat that echoed in the room.
“God!” I grabbed hold of his head to hold him steady before I embarrassed myself by coming too quickly. “W-warn a guy before you do that, huh?”
He pulled off and grinned. “Why would I do that?” Then he proceeded with a sensual assault that had me spurting like a teenager in two minutes flat.
“Uh,” was all I could say as release flowed out of me without end.
So much for not spurting like a fifteen-year-old.
When I finally stopped and Jenson pulled off my now limp dick, I dropped to my knees, sated, embarrassed, and wanting more, all at the same time.
“Lost your legs, did you?” he smirked, reaching out to cup my chin and pull me in for a kiss that shared the remains of my cum between us.
I pushed him to his back on the hardwood floor and straddled his hips as best I could with my legs still hamp
ered by the clothing bunched at my ankles. “You were amazing. Your mouth is a lethal weapon, man.” Grinding against his rigid pole, I watched as he arched his neck and closed his eyes on a moan, pushing up against me.
“I think I need to fuck you,” he said.
“I think you do, too.” I moved to the side to remove the rest of my clothing and then worked on getting his cock out of his jeans so I could ride it. “Where’s the condom?”
“Left pocket, along with a tiny tube of lube,” he replied.
I found the items and proceeded to prepare his cock, slathering the latex with slick after I rolled it down, then quickly preparing my own hole for attack.
“Jesus, I want to do that next time, watch my fingers make you so crazy, you’ll beg me to fuck you,” he said, watching with a dazed expression as I pumped against my fingers.
“I’m begging you now.”
I positioned myself over his dick. Slowly, I worked his prick, up and down, until I was able to finally seat myself and stare at him, watching his body twitch a bit as he held back from fucking me mercilessly. I squeezed his length. His eyes closed, his teeth grabbing his lower lip as he fought for control. I rotated a bit, making him feel it and driving me crazy, too.
“Please, Stace. Tell me you’re ready. I don’t know how much of this torture I can take,” he begged, his hands gripping my hips tightly.
“I don’t know. You made me climb a mountain today in the hot sun, taunted me with that hot bod of yours striding ahead, ass flexing with each step. I think you need to take more.”
The only warning I had of his next move was a look in his eye, and then he flipped us, my breath gone when my back hit the floor. He took over, holding my legs apart as he pulled out, then rammed back in.
“Guh!” My eloquence knew no bounds.
“That’s what you get for being a tease,” he said, then pulled out again and plunged back in, finding my sweet spot this time and making me howl.
“Goddamn, fucking shit!” was all I could manage before he went to town, my hands on his shoulders as I got the ride of my life, hard, fast, and dirty, with a little pain thrown in, just the way I liked it.