by J. M. Snyder
Crushed
By J.M. Snyder
Published by JMS Books LLC
This book is available in print.
Visit http://www.jmsnyder.net for more information.
Copyright 2007 J.M. Snyder
ISBN 978-1-61152-027-9
Cover Credits: Factoria Singular
Used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.
Cover Design: J.M. Snyder
All rights reserved.
WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.
This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published in the United States of America.
NOTE: This story was originally published by Amber Allure Press.
* * * *
Crushed
By J.M. Snyder
Chapter 1
When his friend Tom Morgan called about the party, Nathan Gayle told him no. “Remember the last one?” he asked.
Nathan’s long, pale legs stretched out across a futon that took up most of his one-room studio apartment. Despite the cool autumn weather outside, he wore a tattered tank top and a pair of boxers because the air wasn’t stirring in his place. Pink Floyd’s classic album The Wall blared from his stereo so loud that it shook the few pictures he had hanging on his walls and had almost drowned out the ringing of the phone. Now he wished it had; he wasn’t going to another one of Tom’s parties—though they worked together and Nathan considered them friends, he could never quite shake the feeling that he was only asked because the guy felt sorry for him.
Raising his voice so he could be heard over the music, Tom asked, “Can’t you turn that down?”
With a halfhearted gesture Tom couldn’t see, Nathan stretched an arm toward the stereo on the other side of the wall. “Can’t reach it.” Then he ran the hand through his hair, brushing back the brown wavy fringe from his forehead. When he released it, the hair swept down over his brow again, tickling his eyelashes. “Look Tom…”
“I thought you had fun last time,” Tom said.
Nathan laughed. “You forgot to tell me it was a couples thing!” A dinner party for just a few friends, Nathan had been the one of only two people there alone. Tom’s idea of a blind date—the other person had been one of the guys in the payroll office where they worked, so damn gay that he threatened to burst into flames before they even got through the main course. Nathan didn’t like guys like that. Overly effeminate, so obviously queer, and an accountant, for the love of God. “What the hell was up with that?” he wanted to know.
“That was Cindy’s doing,” Tom told him. “She thinks you need a man—”
“I think you need to keep your girlfriend’s nose out of my business,” Nathan said.
Truth was? He did need a man, hadn’t had a boyfriend since high school, hadn’t met anyone at the two-year junior college he graduated from this past summer, and didn’t really know anyone at his job at the office, either. Sure, he’d gone to the clubs, used to hang out at all the right places, but that scene got old quick. Years ago, at sixteen, when he first discovered how good it felt to dance up against other boys in the dark, he’d sworn he’d be there every night once he was out on his own. Only now he had a job that ate up his days, and when he came home, he was too tired to hit the dance floor. Some nights he was lucky if he managed to pull the futon out before collapsing onto it, he was so exhausted. What had happened to the guy he’d thought he’d grow into? The jet-setting playboy, the club-hopper, the mack daddy? Times change. Was “mack daddy” even a hip term anymore? Nathan had no clue.
In his ear, his friend laughed, and Nathan could hear the grin in Tom’s voice when he said, “Aww, Nate. You know she’s just looking out for you.”
“An accountant?” Nathan asked. “Jesus Christ. Next thing I know, she’s gonna be hooking me up with the guy who takes our order at Burger King.”
The laughter died. “You think he’s cute?” Tom asked, suddenly serious.
“God!” Nathan cried. “No! Don’t even…Tom, don’t you dare tell her that. You hear me? I’m not looking for just anyone.”
Tom laughed again. “I know, man. I’m kidding.”
“I want Mr. Right,” Nathan continued, “not Mr. Right Now.”
It was an old argument between them. Since they’d met, he and Tom had become fast friends, but things had grown a little weird when Nathan first told him he liked guys. A lean, sexy black man, with a devilish grin framed by a trim goatee, Tom stood a head taller than Nathan and had a laugh that made people grin in reply. Nathan would be lying if he said he hadn’t first approached the man because he thought him hot. But Tom liked his girls, and Nathan respected that. Still, some part of Tom didn’t get the fact that Nathan was gay. At work they’d sit in the cafeteria and he’d point at every man who walked by. “How about him?” Tom would ask. “You like him?”
Nathan finally said, “You know what? It’s not like that, not at all. So I like guys—the same way you like girls. Not every chick is something you wanna fuck—”
Tom glanced around to make sure no one nearby overheard their conversation. “You don’t have to be so crude.”
“Not every guy is something I want to get with,” Nathan finished. “I’m not just gonna get freaky with a boy because he gives me the time of day. I’ve got standards, you know.”
Standards…something Tom’s long-time girlfriend Cindy didn’t understand, either. In a way, she was even worse than him. At least the mention of anal sex was usually enough to get Tom to lose interest real quick, but with her? She was a pretty, petite blonde with a perpetual tan and pink lips pursed in determination, on a mission to find Nathan a boy. “You’d look so cute with him,” she’d say in the parking lot after work. She had no shame, either—she’d be halfway across the lot, ponytail flopping over one shoulder, before Nathan could stop her. “Let me go get his number for you.”
“Cindy!” he’d cry, and then he’d wrestle her into the car while Tom laughed and she looked around, confused. “God, I don’t want his number.”
And Tom wants me to come to another party at his place? Nathan rolled his eyes. “Who’s she trying to get me with this time? That dork in sales?”
“You like him?” Tom asked, surprised.
“I’m teasing.” Just to spell it out for him, Nathan added, “No, I don’t like him, okay? So don’t tell her that—I’m just kidding here. I’m not coming.”
“Why not, man?” Tom wanted to know. “It’ll be loads of fun, you’ll see. It’s not a dinner party—”
Nathan was unconvinced. “Uh-huh, right, sure.”
“It’s not!” Tom sounded hurt that Nathan didn’t believe him. But do you blame me? “It’s more like…”
“Who all’s coming?” Nathan asked. “People from work? That’s it?” There was no one there he wanted to get with—he’d looked them all over many times. Even if he lowered his standards a little bit, eased up some on what he wanted, there was nobody in the office that turned him on. Was
it too much to ask for a guy who could get him hard just looking at him? Nathan didn’t think so. “A party with those geeks doesn’t sound like my idea of fun. I get paid to hang out with them during the week. I don’t want to waste my weekend with them, too.”
“It’s not just guys from work,” Tom argued. “I’ve got a few friends over at State—”
“Kids?” Nathan’s voice filled with contempt. He didn’t like college boys much, with their fraternities and their school spirit and their study groups. He was so over that scene. “Tom, this is getting worse by the minute.”
Another laugh…was it that funny? Nathan didn’t think so. When he sighed, Tom said, “No, listen to me! It’s not going to be that bad, honest. I’ve got a few kegs and Cindy’s lined up a DJ—”
“Let me guess,” Nathan said. “He’s gay and single and looking to score. And nothing I want to get with.”
Tom lowered his voice. “She tries.”
With a tight grin, Nathan said, “I wish she wouldn’t.”
“So are you coming or what?” Tom asked. “I got other people to call, you know. It’s tomorrow night, my place.” When Nathan didn’t answer, he added, “You’re gonna be there? Great. Let me pencil you in.”
Nathan sighed. There had been a time when he wouldn’t turn down a party no matter what. Yeah, I’m tired of being alone, but you know, I’m almost more tired of looking. There are too many damn toads out there in this world, and not enough princes. “How many people are coming?”
“Including you?” Tom asked.
“Yeah,” Nathan said. “Including me. How many?” Tom didn’t reply. “Tom?”
“Well,” his friend hedged, “adding in me and Cindy? Three.”
Nathan laughed. “Three? Oh, God. I am not—”
“Give me some time!” Tom cried. “I got calls to make, I’ll have this place packed, you’ll see. People spilling out into the lawn. The last big fling before winter, a harvest party, it’ll be huge. Come on, man, you have to come.”
“Sounds like I’m a third of the guest list,” Nathan muttered. “I’ll think about it.”
“You’re coming,” Tom told him. “You don’t, and I’m telling Cindy what you said about that guy at Burger King. You’re talking about the young one, right? The skinny blond?”
“Don’t you dare!” Nathan laughed. “He’s not even old enough to drive…”
“Then you’re coming,” Tom said again. “Tomorrow. Be here by seven. You hear me? If you’re not, I’m picking him up on my way to get you.”
Before Nathan could argue further, the phone went dead in his ear. You can tell me I’m going. Nathan hung up the phone. But you can’t make me have fun. I ain’t staying long, my friend, and the first dumbass your girl pulls out of the closet for me, I’m outta there.
He closed his eyes and let the soothing sounds of “Comfortably Numb” wash over him. Why can’t I find the right guy? He had no problem finding all the other ones out there, but just anyone wasn’t enough. Was it so bad to want to wait for the best rather than just settle for anything that came along?
Most of the time he thought so, but right now? Alone in his room, his body beginning to ache for someone else’s touch, right now he wished he wasn’t so damn picky about guys.
Chapter 2
Nathan knew the party would be a bust, but he still worried over what to wear and how he looked. Studying himself in the full-length mirror on the back of his bathroom door, he checked out his outfit…not too shabby. He wore a tight black turtleneck, very soft and smooth, like a second skin along his chest and arms. His dark blue jeans hung a little below his waist, cinched in place with a black braided belt, the legs rolled up into cuffs above his black clunky shoes. His hair swept across his brow in a perfect wave, with faint blond streaks shot through the dark length like a lingering remembrance of summer. I look amazing, and for what? Some loser Cindy’s picked out for me.
But suppose he was wrong? Suppose there was someone at this party worth noticing, someone he took a liking to and wanted to get with? It was that maybe person he wore the diamond stud earring for, the thin gold necklace draped outside the turtleneck, the splash of musky cologne. He even checked his wallet before he shoved it into his back pocket, just to make sure he had a condom behind his license. Hell, who knew? He might get lucky.
Yeah, right.
He ran a hand through his hair. It pushed back from his face, then fell forward again like a curtain to hide his eyes. With an absent motion of his head, he shook the hair to one side of his face. He hadn’t gotten lucky in months. Why should tonight be any different? He wondered if condoms had expiration dates on them. If they did, he thought it was about time to throw out the ones he had—how long did they last unopened, anyway? He wasn’t sure, but if he didn’t meet anyone at the party, he was coming home and pitching the whole damn box in the trash.
Tom had said to be at his place by seven, so that was the time Nathan left his apartment. Nothing like being fashionably late. Tom only lived a few miles away—he shared a house with Cindy in the west end of the city. Nathan’s apartment was on the south side, and he pulled onto his friends’ street just around quarter after. Cars lined the sidewalks up and down the narrow street, the party already well under way, and he slowed as he drove, looking for a place to park.
Tom’s house sat on a corner lot by a service alley, and Nathan managed to squeeze his car into a tiny spot on the lawn, just behind the house. But when he opened the door, he hit the car next to him. “Shit,” he muttered, rubbing at the tiny scratch in his paint as he glanced around. Music poured from the house; every room on the lower floor was lit. At least out here it was dark, and he was far enough away from the few people hanging around the back porch that no one could’ve seen him hit the other car. Nevertheless, his heart hammered in his chest as he approached the house, and when someone called his name, he almost jumped. “Nathan!”
It was Tom’s girlfriend, Cindy Prewitt, hurrying down the porch steps two at a time. She wore a pair of tight jeans that left little to the imagination and a fluffy pink sweater that made her look bustier than she was. Her long hair was pulled back into a blonde ponytail, the way she usually wore it, and her face glowed from sweat or makeup or both.
Shoot me now. Nathan rolled his eyes but when she came closer, he flashed her a bright smile and kissed her cheek. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she told him, taking his arm before he could object. “Tom said he told you seven—”
“I was running a little late.” Nathan tried to disentangle his arm from hers, but it was no use. She had his elbow in a death grip; she dragged him up the steps and into the house as if convinced he would run the instant she let him go. I just might. “Cindy—”
“I’ve got a ton of people I want you to meet,” she said, pushing through the crowded kitchen. Nathan caught a glimpse of liquor bottles set out on the table, faceted glass filled with alcohol winking at him in the overhead light, and then he was being led into a hall swamped with people. Did Tom even know everyone here? Nathan saw a few letterman’s jackets from State, a couple of fraternity pins from Tom’s old chapter, some girls in the corner he knew worked with Cindy in customer service, but all the faces swam together and made his head spin. I could really use one of those drinks back there.
Hip-hop party music filled the house, the bass so heavy and the beat so strong that Nathan couldn’t distinguish words from the rhythm that pounded like surf around him. The people in the hall jostled each other in some semblance of dancing, and the only way Nathan could move through them was by wiggling his hips and dancing along. He couldn’t hear the music so much as feel it beat in his chest like a second heart and throb in his head like blood through his veins. “Cindy!” he called out.
He knew she was still somewhere ahead of him—he could feel her hand on his arm, but he could barely see her in the dim hall, cloudy with cigarette smoke. When he managed to catch up to her, he leaned down and yelled into her ear. “Is Tom around? I just wa
nt to say hi. I can’t stay long.”
She turned and smiled at him. “There’s this guy from my department,” she was saying over the din, her voice coming to him in waves. “You’ll like him. He’s your type.”
Nathan suspected Cindy had no clue what his type might be. This is why I don’t come to your parties, Tom. “Cindy, really…”
Pulling him up beside her, she patted his arm and gushed, “He’s so sweet, Nathan. Nicest guy I’ve ever met. If I wasn’t with Tom and he wasn’t…well, you know.” She arched her eyebrows and gave him that look of hers that said, he’s gay, you’ve just got to like him. God. Why me? “You know what they say about Latin lovers—”
“No, I don’t.” Nathan tried to wrest free from her grip.
Cindy laughed. “They say they’re mah-velous in bed. Didn’t you read the last issue of Cosmo? I’ll show you the article.”
Like a good fuck is genetic. Against his will, he followed her into the living room. The DJ Tom had promised was in one corner, stereo equipment spread out around him like a booth at the fair—lights flashing, speakers pumping, stacks of CDs tottering above the tables. One look at the disc jockey and Nathan prayed…Please, no. The guy was too old, for starters, with bleached spikes that stood up from his head as if shocked he was trying to pull off such a heinous color. “Cindy—”
“There,” she said, pointing across the room, well away from the DJ. Nathan strained to see over the crowd but to no avail. “Oh, I’ve told him all about you.”
“I wish you wouldn’t do this,” he muttered, his voice lost in the noise.
Cindy bumped her way through people gathered around the coffee table, the sofa, the TV, Nathan right behind her. “Where’s Tom?” he asked. “I just came to see him, really. I have to get going.”
Cindy squealed and waved. “Hey!” she called out. Then she pointed at Nathan, a big grin on her face, as if showing off a prize catch. “Look who I found!”