Hottest Heat Wave

by J. M. Snyder

  Leashing Mr. Magee and the pair got out of the car. The sounds of small waves lapping the shore, crickets in the woods, an owl hooting in a nearby tree, and the distant sound of loons on the lake, along with stars twinkling overhead through the trees all made for a perfect north woods setting, except for one small detail.

  “It’s as fucking hot here as it was in Ann Arbor!” Cam exclaimed as he stood looking around. “I sure hope the Grafton cabin has A/C!”

  They walked down the bank toward the lake to give Mr. Magee a chance to relieve himself. As they approached the shore, Cam heard splashing that was definitely more than waves on the beach. He stood still. Mr. Magee was alert—head raised, white flag tail wagging. He strained forward on his leash toward the sounds. Suddenly, wading out of the lake and into the glow of the headlights was a man drying himself with a towel. Thoughts of Neptune, god of the sea, flashed through Cam’s mind.

  The man before him was no ordinary individual. He was a Cameron Mitchel fantasy come to life. Nearly as tall as Cam, the man had the physique of a 30 something gym rat, with the added bonus that only twenty years or more of maturity could bring. He had a full head of salt and pepper hair, warm eyes, and a great smile that was accentuated by the sexiest set of dimples Cam could imagine. His well-developed torso was covered with a superb rug of grizzled white and dark hair. He wore a red and white Speedo which displayed his manhood exquisitely.

  “Hello,” the man said as he reached Cam, blinking in the brightness of the lights.

  Cam was momentarily speechless.

  Squatting down, the man-god ruffed Mr. Magee’s long ears. “Hello to you, too,” he said warmly.

  The man stood, continuing to run the towel over his marvelous body. “I don’t believe the Graftons are here this weekend. Is there something I could help you with?”

  Was there something you could help me with? Cam’s thoughts echoed the man’s words. You bet there is!

  Mentally shaking himself to break the spell the man had cast, Cam said, “Uh…I’m up from Ann Arbor for the weekend. My A/C is out at home. So the Graftons are letting us stay in their cottage to get away from the heat.”

  “And how’s that working for you?” the man asked jovially.

  “Not so well,” Cam said, chuckling and wiping the sweat from his face with the back of his forearm.

  “Right. So far the hottest summer in T. C. recent history. My name’s Emory Cauldwell, by the way.”

  Cam took the hand Emory offered him. The grip was firm, strong. Cam’s dick responded.

  “Cameron Mitchel. But friends call me Cam.”

  “Nice to meet you, Cam.”

  Cam smiled and registered that Emory had picked up on his implied invitation to friendship by using his nickname.

  “And you are?” Emory asked as he squatted again to pet the dog, who had been waiting patiently as the two men talked.

  “Mr. Magee,” Cam said. “But—”

  “Friends call him Magee,” Emory said, looking up at Cam and offering him one hell of a sexy smile.

  Cam’s dick again took note. “That’s right. He’s Magee to his friends,” Cam said, returning Emory’s smile.

  “Basset hound,” Emory observed as he rose. “One of our favorite breeds. My wife and I have had a couple of bassets over the years.”

  Can this get any more perfect! Cam thought. Totally sexy and he’s married! That makes him perfectly safe.

  Cam preferred married men—less chance of falling for a guy and getting embroiled in a romantic entanglement. Cam was not interested in any sort of permanent arrangement. Besides the intrigue of discretion, the stolen moments, the close calls of discovery, all added to the mystique of the affair. Yes, for Cameron Mitchel, married older men, with good looks, and a body like the gods, was nirvana.

  Now, only one last piece to the puzzle. Was the man bi, gay, or straight? Cam had pretty infallible gaydar, once given enough information. So far Emory had offered a warm smile, a pick up on the friendship innuendo, and wore a skimpy, revealing bathing suit. Still not quite enough for Cam to make a move. He’d need to observe Emory in the daylight. Watch how Emory reacted to seeing Cam in his swim wear, to Cam’s casual touches. Once these bits of information were gathered, Cam could make a full assessment and decide what to do to get the guy into bed.

  “Well, I’ll let you two get settled in. I live right next door,” Emory said, pointing to the light that peaked through the trees. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to come over and ask.”

  Cam picked up on Emory’s emphasis on anything. He replied by adding a little emphasis of his own by saying, “Thanks, I’ll be sure to take you up on that,” thus launching his campaign to determine where Emory stood sexually.

  Emory offered him another handshake, which Cam eagerly accepted.

  “Goodnight, Cam.”

  The handshake lingered just a bit on Emory’s part. Cam filed this information away.

  “Goodnight,” Cam said, giving Emory’s hand the slightest squeeze.

  Emory smiled, let go of Cam’s hand, and bent to stroke Mr. Magee.

  “Goodnight, Magee. I think we’re going to be seeing quite a bit of one another over the weekend.”

  Cam added this to his Emory file as well.

  Cam watched Emory walk away through the trees that separated the two homes. He couldn’t quite make out the quality of Emory’s buns in the dark, an important point of information as far as Cam was concerned. He would check that out in the light of day.

  Just as Emory was about to disappear through the trees, he turned and looked back. Cam waved, and in the dim light from Emory’s house, Cam saw Emory return the wave. Another good sign, Cam concluded with satisfaction.

  Taking a deep breath, Cam looked down at the longsuffering hound and said, “Let’s get you out of this heat.”

  He got a flashlight from the glove box and located the keys to the cottage in a cup holder. He turned off the headlights, shouldered his backpack, and picked up a bag with Mr. Magee’s food, treats, and dog bowls, then led Mr. Magee up the stairs to the door.

  Once inside, he found the lights. The interior of the cottage was stuffy and extremely warm.

  “Hasn’t been opened for a while. Feels pretty stale in here,” Cam informed Mr. Magee. “Let’s see if we can locate the A/C.”

  Noting the bathroom on his right, Cam moved through the galley-style kitchen to the living area. This space was divided into two rooms by a standing bookcase and an upright piano. In the area where Cam now stood, there was a computer desk against the wall to his left. In the middle of the room was a large leather sofa. Over this was a ceiling fan. Cam turned it on. The breeze it created felt good. The couch faced a fireplace.

  “Not likely we’ll be needing that this weekend,” Cam told Mr. Magee as the dog jumped up on the couch.

  “Whoa, bub! We’re not at home. You get off of there.”

  Mr. Magee looked sadly at Cam then slunk off the sofa onto the floor. There he sat in front of the man, head hanging down, giving the impression of total dejection.

  Cam put his hands on his hips, shook his head, and said, “You are a piece of work, you ole hound dog. You could make a saint feel guilty.”

  Mr. Magee looked up, his tail thumping the floor.

  In the corner of the room Cam saw a folded fleece throw hung over the arm of a rocking chair. He retrieved the throw and spread it out on the couch to protect the leather from Mr. Magee’s toenails.

  “Okay, you win, as usual,” Cam said as he patted the now-covered leather.

  Mr. Magee jumped up, and without so much as a thank you, yawned and curled up, his head resting on the arm of the sofa.

  Cam sighed. He knew he was a sucker when it came to Mr. Magee. He’d been that way with all his pets, whether dog or cat…or men, for that matter. He reminded himself to stick to his pledge, and not let emotion creep into anything that might transpire between him and the very desirable Mr. Cauldwell.

  With that thought
Cam continued his search for the A/C. Over the fireplace was a big screen television. But nowhere in the room was there any clue where an air conditioning unit might be located.

  Cam went to the other half of the room created by the piano and bookcase. Here he found a large roll top desk and a dining room table. Facing the lake were two window walls. He opened them, hoping to get some fresh air circulating. Still no sign of A/C.

  Cam wandered back through the living room and into the two bedrooms. Mr. Magee followed Cam’s movements with his eyes, seemingly content to relax on the sofa, too lazy to explore this new environment for himself.

  Each bedroom had a queen sized bed, a dresser, and a large floor fan. Cam turned on the fans and opened the windows in each room.

  Coming back into the living room, Cam stood with hands on hips, feeling baffled as to where the air conditioning might be hiding, hoping that there was some.

  Looking around, he saw a thermostat on one wall. Inspecting it, he saw it had both a heat and a cool setting.

  “Ah, well, here’s a clue. At least we know there is A/C.”

  He switched it to cool and set the temperature for seventy-two. He waited. Nothing happened.

  Feeling even more perplexed, and not knowing where else to look, he went into the kitchen for a glass of water. He filled a bowl for Mr. Magee.

  “Time to eat, you ole hound dog,” he said, taking food from the bag of Mr. Magee’s supplies.

  Mr. Magee hopped off the sofa and hurried into the kitchen, tail wagging with expectant enthusiasm.

  Cam leaned against the counter, watching the hound make short work of the bowl of kibble.

  Cam glanced down at a note from Alan’s father, which read:

  Cameron,

  So glad you’re using the cabin for the weekend. Please feel free to use anything in the fridge or the cabin.

  The A/C is temperamental…

  Cam gave a small snort. “Tell me about it.”

  So if it isn’t working there’s a reset button on the side of the unit outside. Press and hold it and it should go on. Hopefully you won’t need the A/C. We rarely use it as the lake and Grand Traverse Bay keep things pretty cool.

  Enjoy,

  Todd Grafton.

  More optimistic, Cam got his flashlight, called Mr. Magee, put on the dog’s leash, and went outside. “Too many critters around to trust you, buddy,” he told the hound.

  Cam tramped around outside the cabin until he found the cooling unit. He located the reset button and followed Mr. Grafton’s instructions.

  Nothing.

  He tried again and again. Still nothing.

  By the time he gave up and took Mr. Magee back into the house, Cam was covered in perspiration.

  Releasing a panting Mr. Magee, who stopped for a drink, then headed back to the couch, Cam went directly into the bathroom, stripped, and turned on the shower. He stepped into the glass enclosed pentagon-shaped stall and under the cool spray. “At least this works,” he said as he let the water wash away the sweat and cool him down.

  When he finished his shower and dried himself off, Cam decided to just go naked. He saw no point in dressing just to sweat up more clothing. Noticing the stacked washer and dryer behind the bathroom door, he tossed his sweaty shorts, briefs, tank top, and wet towel in the washer, making a mental note to do a load of laundry before he left.

  Padding through the kitchen, he looked in the refrigerator. It was well stocked with both food and beer. He took a can of Budweiser and went into the living room. Cam picked up the TV remote from a side table, and walked to the couch. Mr. Magee was there, already stretched out, sound asleep, and snoring. Cam smiled, then sat down next to the dog, glad now for the fleece he’d spread out for the pooch, knowing that to sit on the leather in this heat would bring on another round of sweat.

  Settling in, Cam opened the beer, took a sip, then used the remote to switch on the TV. He sat watching the local news. The weather forecast came on. A pretty, female meteorologist informed him of the bad news.

  “Unfortunately this string of hot days will continue for the next week. Tonight’s low will only be seventy-five with humidity approaching eighty percent. There’s a slight chance of a shower toward morning, but that’s not going to cool us off very much. Tomorrow’s high will be ninety-eight degrees which should easily break the record high of ninety-four set in 1896. Pretty impressive, huh?”

  “Whoopi,” Cam intoned. “Looks like we went from the frying pan back home into the fire up here,” he mused aloud.

  “And I don’t think we can depend on our natural air conditioner, the bay, to help,” the weather gal continued. “A strong offshore wind will keep the sea breeze from developing and bringing in the cooler air from over the water. Your best bet for staying cool is to either jump into the water, get out on a boat, or stay inside and crank up the A/C.”

  Cam gave a derisive grunt. “If you have any that is!”

  “Sorry, folks, but this weather pattern will hold for the foreseeable future. This is Anne Curtis for TV nine and ten news. Back to you, Bob.”

  Cam switched off the television and looked over at Mr. Magee, who still slept soundly. Figuring the dog had been out just a while ago, he should be good for the night.

  Ordinarily Cam would encourage the hound to sleep with him. But the thought of Magee’s hundred and one degrees of body heat was not appealing. Cam left the dog sleeping where he was, turned off the lights, and headed for one of the bedrooms.

  Cam placed the fan in front of the window and turned it up to high. Pulling the comforter down, he stretched out on top of the sheets. They felt cool. He sighed and closed his eyes. His hand automatically reached for his cock. Images of Emory involuntarily filled his head—the handsome face, the muscular torso, the thick white hair on his chest. In no time at all Cam was flogging his hard dick for all he was worth, imagining the urgent kisses, the feel of Emory’s body beneath his hands, the taste of Emory’s cock in Cam’s mouth, the sensation of union as Cam slipped his erect cock into Emory’s yet-to-be-evaluated ass. Quickly he reached completion, with Emory as the star attraction.

  Cam lay there still breathing hard, sweat rolling off his body onto the sheets.

  “Fuck!” he said, wiping his face with his hand.

  Cam got up, walked past the hound, who was still snoring peacefully.

  Cam went to the bathroom and took another shower. When he was done he entered the second bedroom.

  “I’ll wash those sheets with my clothes in the morning,” he mumbled to himself, as he let the breeze created by the fan in the window lull him to sleep.

  * * * *

  Cam felt a wet tongue licking his hand as it dangled off the edge of the bed. He opened one eye and turned his head to see the tip of Mr. Magee’s wagging tail. Cam sat up and looked at the dog standing next to the bed.

  “Good morning, Magee,” he said in a sleepy voice. “You need something?”

  Mr. Magee shifted from foot to foot. His long basset body wagged along with his tail. He began a series of hound dog croons.

  “Oh, is that so?” Cam asked, interpreting the dog’s actions. “You need to go out do you?”

  More excited barking ensued.

  Cam checked his watch—only six-thirty. Earlier than usual, but since Mr. Magee seemed so insistent, Cam decided he’d better acquiesce. “Let me get dressed, start a load of laundry, and then we’ll get you outside.”

  It was still warm, so Cam decided to forego a shirt. He also skipped underwear and slipped on a pair of cargo shorts and his sandals.

  Cam’s stopping at the bathroom to take care of his own needs was almost more than the hound could bear. He stood at the door, baying his protests as Cam pissed. Cam chuckled. “Hold on there, tiger, I’m going as fast as I can. When you have morning wood, it takes some time.”

  After clipping on the dog’s leash, they made their way out the door. The morning air was warm but comfortable. Cam walked the sniffing hound down to the lake. A mist was r
ising from the water, filtering the morning sun. In the distance the loons sang their song, accompanying the twitters and tweets of the birds in the pines and oaks along the shoreline. Cam sighed. He could get used to this.

  “Morning!” came a deep voice behind him.

  Cam turned to see Emory, also bare-chested and in shorts, standing at the top of the bank that led to the beach. In the light of day, Emory was even more amazing than he had seemed in the glare of the headlights. A deep tan accentuated his attractiveness. Cam imagined a naked Emory with a distinct tan line where his speedo would have covered his groin area. Cam suppressed a shudder. His cock, still semi-hard from his wake-up erection, threatened to bring his attraction to the man out of the closet. Cam wished he hadn’t gone commando and had donned some briefs. They would have restrained his dick, which seemed to have a mind of its own, heading for full erection.

  But then maybe the fates had ordained it, for as Cam looked up at Emory standing above him, he recognized the hungry look in the man’s eyes which betrayed the casualness of the greeting. The man’s hand seemed to move involuntarily toward his crotch, stopping just short of actually cupping his package.

  “Good morning,” Cam said, returning the man’s greeting.

  Mr. Magee looked up from his inspection of the sand and wagged his hello.

  “You’re up early,” Cam added.

  “Best part of the day,” Emory said, descending the bank to stand next to Cam. “Get most of my work done in the morning. Besides, it’s going to be hellishly hot again. This is the most cool you’re going to get outside. How did it go for you last night?”

  Emory’s eyes had swept Cam’s lean, muscular body with its light covering of dark hair, lingering on the prominent bulge in Cam’s shorts as he spoke.

  Jackpot! Older man, hot as hell, married and gay or at least bi, Cam thought, reveling in his good fortune.

  “Not so well. I came up here to get away from the heat as my A/C at home is broken. It’s as hot here as in Ann Arbor, and the Grafton’s A/C isn’t working either.”