by J. M. Snyder
But he doesn’t step back. I hope he’s enjoying this. Right now I can’t wait for the day to end so I can climb into the shower and turn on the cold water full blast and relieve this tension pent up inside of me with a few hard, quick strokes of my right hand. I write Billy down and look up at him, smiling slightly.
He stares at my mouth and then licks his lips again. I knew I wasn’t imagining things before. I curl my lower lip over my teeth and bite it painfully to remind myself that I’m working, this is on the clock, all I’m supposed to do is turn on the cable and leave…
“You ready to go upstairs yet?” he asks.
Oh God. I hug the clipboard to my chest like a shy schoolgirl. “Excuse me?”
He grins. “Upstairs,” he says, like I’m stupid. “Where the TVs are. In the bedrooms?”
Christ. “Um…”
I glance into the living room, where a large 36” TV stares blankly back at me. I can see us reflected in its dark gray face, and he’s standing closer than I thought. In the TV screen it looks as if he’s right up against me, holding onto me tightly, and I only wish he were touching me.
Taking a step away from him, I say, “I have to finish hooking it up outside first.”
Still, he follows me to the door and out onto the porch. Great. I toss the clipboard in the grass and head back over to the side of the house.
He follows. I bend down and scoop up all the shit that fell out of my pocket, and he watches like a suspicious clerk hovering over a street kid with sticky fingers. I find a ground block amid the coins and fittings and unhook my screwdriver from my belt. As I unscrew the old ground block from the house, Billy’s hand touches my hip. “What’s this?”
His fingers curl around the cool metal of one of the tools attached to my belt.
“A terminator,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady, but my skin burns at his touch.
He nods as if he knows what I’m talking about. “What about this?” he asks, his fingers playing across my waist to grasp my tape measure. He looks at it and frowns. “Oh.”
I turn toward the house a little more, trying to ignore him, his hand on my waist, his fingers still on my belt. His arm eases around me, his hand brushing my belt buckle before sliding up to rest on my stomach, which flutters beneath his touch.
Holy Mary, Mother of God—I don’t even trust myself to speak anymore, and the screwdriver slips out of the screw, the tip skidding across the siding of the house, leaving a gray, paintless scar in its wake. The ground block clatters against the driveway and rolls away. I watch it stop against the side of his foot, his bare foot, and I bite my lip again.
We’re working here, Charles, I remind myself as I manage to get a new ground block into place. He’s just a damn tease and he knows you’re turned on, he can fucking see the bulge in your pants, and this is fun for him, so forget he’s touching you. Forget the fire in his fingers or the strength in his arm or that damn hair and those damn eyes, and just finish this up so you can get the hell out of here.
When I get the new ground block screwed in and the cable attached, he lets his hand drift across my stomach as he backs away. “You coming inside now?” he asks, that smile sly on his lips. His full, red, pouty lips.
Stop it, I tell myself as I follow him back into the house. Just stop it right this instant.
“Do you have a basement here?” I ask, hoping I don’t have to crawl up under the house. He shows me a staircase winding away into an unfinished concrete room, and in the rafters I see the cable snaked around the phone lines. The lines are still good, but I replace the three-way splitter, conscious of Billy’s gaze on me. He’s standing on the stairs watching me with those eyes…
I get the cable up into the living room and smile at him as I head back upstairs, but he blocks my path and doesn’t move. He just smiles back. “Um,” I say, pointing past him.
He steps to one side. These steps are too narrow for two people. Fuck.
I ease past him but my hip touches his crotch and the hardness there surprises me. I hurry up the stairs, so very aware that my pants pull tight over my ass with each step, and behind me I hear him make a small noise in his throat, something low and sexy that just makes me want to whimper.
In the living room, I wipe my sweaty brow with the back of my sleeve as I wait for him to follow. The dogs stare at me from the couch, and one of them growls at my presence. “Yeah, fuck you too,” I mutter. I shift my belt, hoping to hide the erection in my pants, but it’s too late now, isn’t it?
Billy appears at the doorway. That damn smile. Shit. All he has to do is smile that way and I’d do anything he wanted. Anything at all. Cable free for a month? Sure, why not. Ten outlets? Hell, yeah. Fuck, I’ll even hook up the bathroom for you; you can watch TV when you take a bubble bath.
Don’t go there, Charles. You do not want to picture him in the bathtub. Naked, soapy, slippery and wet…
I shake my head to clear the image and find the cable I pushed up into the room, a black wire poking from a small hole in one corner. Billy watches as I run the cable behind a bookcase, behind the sofa and those damn dogs, around an end table, and to the back of the TV. I glance at the photographs on top of the TV—a tall, black man with a shaved head and kinked beard smiles up at me. Who is he?
Billy must see my expression because he says, “That’s my roommate. Ty.”
I nod and bend down behind the TV, and I know his gaze is steady on my ass but what the hell am I supposed to do?
As I screw the cable into the back of the set, he says dreamily, “Those are his stinky dogs. He’s not my boy or anything, though. I ain’t got someone like that yet.”
He emphasizes the word yet. I notice that.
I stand up and he’s right behind me, right there, and I bump into him. That hardness I felt earlier is on my butt now, pressing eagerly, and before I can step away, his hands are on my arms with a gentle touch. His breath tickles the back of my neck, warm and feathery and soft.
I close my eyes and swallow thickly, knowing I shouldn’t but my mind is racing. Please, I pray, oh please oh please oh please just please just…
He steps back and I almost fall when his touch disappears.
“Is there a remote to this thing?” I ask, surprised to hear my voice is just a hushed whisper of its normally deep self. I don’t turn around to look at him as he hands me the slim black controller. Just program this TV and you can leave, I tell myself, but that’s a lie. There are two more outlets to hook up. I am never going to get out of this place alive.
* * * *
Upstairs the bedrooms are pre-wired, so I don’t have to do much more than unscrew the wall plates and dig inside for the line. The first bedroom must belong to this Ty guy, because there are pictures of those dogs all over the desk and dresser, and naked centerfolds from Playboy stare at me from the walls.
Billy doesn’t even glance at the nude chicks—he’s too busy watching me as I kneel on the floor behind the small TV, my hand inside the wall like I’m a surgeon delivering a baby. I hope these walls are fished—I’d hate to have to explain to him that I don’t do that. I don’t do installs. I’m just a service tech. But I think that if he asks me nicely, I’d fish the whole damn house for him.
Hell, he doesn’t even have to ask. Just smile and look at me with those sparkling eyes I’m half drunk off already, and I’d do whatever he asks.
My fingers close over the thin cable and I sigh as I pull it through the wall. Thank God. I put a fitting on it and screw the wall plate back on, and then hook up the TV. “Can you turn it on for me?” I ask from behind the TV.
“What do you want me to turn on?” There’s a hint of suggestion in his voice.
Sweet Jesus Christ.
I clear my throat. “The TV.”
He’s already turned me on enough for one day, and when I’m squatting like this on the floor, the crotch of my pants bites into my dick and it’s all I can do to keep from shifting to rub the fabric against my erection. I glance up as
Billy turns on the TV.
It’s his hair and his eyes and those lashes that are so long, so curved, and the dark hair on his arms, the gold stud earrings he’s wearing… damn, everything below my belt is just throbbing now. “What’s the picture look like?”
He’s staring at me again, not the TV, when he says, “Everything looks great to me.”
His gaze strays to my crotch and I push myself up from the floor. When I step around the TV and check the picture myself, he’s so close I could just shift from one foot to the other and I’d touch him again.
I fight the urge to do just that. “There’s another outlet?”
He nods. “In my room.”
Of course.
His room is dark—this is the one I saw from outside, where he got dressed less than half an hour ago. I remember the cut of his butt cheeks and the way his hips swayed gracefully as he slipped into his jeans… I shake my head, but the images don’t fade away. When he turns around, he leans past me and closes the bedroom door, and my gaze falls to his waist.
His jeans are unbuttoned—when did that happen? Had they always been open? I don’t remember anymore. I wipe my hands on my hips in the hopes of drying off my palms, but it doesn’t work. He steps closer to me, and I take a quick look around the room. Where’s the light switch? For that matter, where’s the damn TV?
“Um,” I say, clearing my throat again. “Where’s your set?”
“Set of what?” he purrs, his voice soft in my ear. His hand touches the small of my back and I’m so sure my shirt is going to burst into flames at any second.
“Your TV set,” I mumble. “I don’t see—”
“I don’t have one yet.” His hand runs up my back, then his fingers curl through my hair, the touch hot against my hot neck, and his voice takes on a breathy, ethereal quality. “I want you to hook me up anyway. Can you do that?”
My throat is dry. I try to swallow but I’ve forgotten how. His fingers burn my neck where he touches me, and his sporty cologne is a heady scent that dulls my mind. “Yeah,” I whisper.
His lips, so warm, so damp, so impossibly soft, his lips close over my earlobe and his teeth, his hard teeth, they nibble at my skin. Any minute now I’m going to come, I just know it.
His arms encircle my waist and he presses against me, rubbing his crotch against my hip. He’s as hard as I am, and I stumble back against the wall, not daring to speak. I’m at work, I remind myself, as his fingers nimbly unbutton the front of my shirt. His hands roam down my white undershirt, caressing my nipples. I’m at work. This is a new install, I’m at work, I shouldn’t be giving in like this…
But there’s no way in hell I can say no. I couldn’t form the word if I tried.
He unbuckles my belt, unzips my pants, and then he’s touching me there, his hand cupping my cock like he’s weighing it, squeezing gently, testing me, watching me.
I close my eyes and lean back against the wall, thrusting into his hand. My mouth is open, I’m panting slightly—I reach out and grasp onto those thick arms, so warm beneath my hands, and then he’s rubbing me through my underwear, his mouth covering mine, his tongue as sweet as nectar filling my mouth. He’s all heat and sex and hands and tongue and lips and I can’t think anymore, I can’t even breathe. I just wrap my arms around his neck, tangle my hands in those loose waves, pull him into me. I want to devour him. I want to make him mine, only mine.
His hand slips beneath the waistband of my underwear and then it’s just his skin against mine, his soft hands on my hard cock, his fingers brushing through my hair. He’s got my balls in his palm, kneading them like bread, and I’m just about to melt in his hands. I moan into his mouth as his hand wraps around my thick shaft, stroking up and down the length, and I can’t help but thrust into him. I want him so bad. Jesus, but I need him. He’s like a drug, something I know I shouldn’t do but I just can’t help myself. He tastes so good, feels so real, I can’t let him go.
“Charles,” he whispers against my neck. I love my name on his lips, falling from his tongue.
“I’m at work,” I manage to sigh. “Billy, I can’t… I shouldn’t—”
“Why not?” he breathes.
I’m close, so close to coming, his hand working me like that, I’m going to explode and I’ve already fallen for him, there’s nothing I can do now, nothing at all.
“I’m at work,” I say again, but the words are meaningless. All that matters is him.
He pulls away, his mouth trailing kisses down my throat, my chest, as he kneels before me. His lips are cool and damp through the thin fabric of my undershirt, and his hands ease my dick out of my underwear. Before I can stop him, his lips close over the tip and it’s all I can do not to buck into his mouth. He’s hot and wet and his tongue licks down me like I’m candy, his hands grab my ass and force me deeper into him. I’m rubbing against the roof of his mouth, against the length of his tongue, and my hands fist into his hair, which feels like woodchip shavings, blond-brown and coarse and smelling oh so sweet…
I come after one good lick, his name ripped from my throat, my hips bucking into him as he sucks at me greedily. His mouth works me over until I go limp and soft in him.
I slide down the wall, exhausted, spent. “Jesus,” I whisper, my throat hoarse, my knees like jelly, my stomach fluttery. I’m thinking he’s just going to walk away now, leave me sitting here on the floor of his bedroom—his game is over, he’s won. Damn it, but he won.
Instead he sits down beside me and gathers me into his strong arms and his lips find mine. He tastes of my sticky sweet sourness, and I crawl over him greedily, hungry for more. My hands fumble at his waist, eager to strip off his jeans, aching to please him the same way he pleased me, when above us on the wall, the phone rings.
“Fuck,” he mutters. He tugs at the cord and the receiver falls to the floor. I shift in his embrace as he says, “Yeah?” His voice is ragged and a little breathless. I did that to him. Me.
Then he hands the phone to me. I gulp in air, hoping my voice sounds steadier than I think it does. “Hello?”
“Charles?” Judy asks, concern lacing her words. “You okay? We’ve been trying to raise you on the radio.”
Oh fuck.
“Yeah,” I whisper, looking at Billy. His eyes are so blue, they’re almost black in the dim room. His lips are red and swollen from my kisses, and I want to kiss him again. I want to kiss him forever, and I lick my lips at the thought. He grins and runs a hand over my erect nipples, arousing me anew. I clear my throat and when I speak a second time, my voice is somewhat stronger. “Yeah, I’m still here. Ran into some trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?” Judy asks, suspicious. “I can send Joe that way—he’s in the neighborhood.”
With a quick shake of my head, I say, “No, I’ve got it covered. One of the rooms upstairs wasn’t wired. I got it taken care of.”
I push myself up out of Billy’s arms. His hands try to hold me down, keep me beside him on the floor, but I’m at work, I tell myself—I have to get back to work. As I stand, I smile down at him and trace the curve of his cheek with one finger.
Into the phone, I say, “I’m wrapping up now. Can you call my job on Atlantic and tell them I’m on my way? I should be there in fifteen, twenty minutes tops.”
“Sure.”
As I replace the receiver, Billy tucks my dick back into my pants, then my shirt, then zips me up. His hands are tender, gentle, and when he looks at me, I see lust still curled in the depths of his eyes.
“Billy,” I whisper. God, I don’t want to go.
He takes my offered hand and I help him to his feet. With a smile, he asks, “Can you come back later?” Before I answer, he hurries to add, “After work. I want to see you again, Charles. Shit, I have to see you again. Please.”
What can I say?
* * * *
“Base to twenty-three.”
The static burst drowns out Judy’s voice, and I turn the radio down as I pull into the driveway at 542 At
lantic Avenue.
“Go ahead, Base,” I say, the hint of a smile in my voice.
The memory of Billy’s hands burn on my body, and I still taste his sweet kisses on my lips. Already I’m thinking about where I’m going to take him tonight. He kissed me as I left, his hands on my back, his arms around me so tightly I was almost afraid to breathe and lose the moment. He called me his boy. I haven’t heard that one in a long time. I can’t wait to see him again.
“Base?” I ask, cutting off my truck. “I’m at Atlantic. Heading in.”
“How was Ridgeview?” Judy asks.
Now I can’t wipe the grin from my face. “All bark and no bite. It wasn’t as bad as I thought.”
And it’s only going to get better.
THE END
Opening Day at the County Fair
About the only thing that happens here in Boydton County is the annual fair. The first week in October everyone turns out at the fairgrounds, their livestock and crops in tow. There are cattle auctions, hog calling contests, funnel cakes, chitlins, and “Best of Show” ribbons given out for everything from largest cucumber to fattest sow. On any given day there’s maybe five hundred people all told, jostling for a place inside the split rail fence that cuts the grounds out from the surrounding fields. Believe me, that’s a crowd around these parts, and all the pick-ups and John Deeres tear up the dirt tracks that lead into the fairgrounds something fierce. When the fair committee manages to wrangle someone famous to stop on by, the mud and the muck just gets worse. Few years back, they had that guy who played Deputy Enos on The Dukes of Hazzard, and you’d have thought it was Boss Hogg himself. This year my sister Jolene heard it might be Toby Keith, but I think she heard wrong because there’s no way the county could cough up the money to bring someone big like him here. I mean, really.
The day the fair’s set to open, Jolene wakes me up at 4:30, just before dawn. Since it’s still dark out at this hour, it takes her several minutes to rouse me out of sleep. Barely opening my eyes, I groan, “God, Jo. It’s too early.”
“Come on,” she mutters, keeping her voice down so she won’t wake our folks. “Jesse, you said you’d drive me to the fair. Missy’s outside and waiting already.” Missy is Jolene’s prize pig—she won four ribbons three years back and Jo’s been making money selling her offspring at every fair since. Vaguely I remember telling her that I’d give her a ride to the fairgrounds, but right at this moment I can’t for the life of me imagine why.