Wishing on a Blue Star

by Kris Jacen

Finally, Duncan took to the small stage at the front of the room, a tiny microphone looped over his right ear. Matthew smiled as he watched the nervous and uncertain man who was hoping that his program would work for everyone suddenly became a master showman. Duncan explained a little about the necessity of the steps they’d each taken to get here, what would happen tonight and ended with a brief description of what everyone could expect in the next few weeks.

  Matthew smiled and found his eyes riveted to Duncan as he listened to the deep, raspy voice crack a few jokes about aching muscles and how he would either end up a world-famous exercise guru or be in prison when twenty-two people were all found dead the next morning from exhaustion. When he found himself to be the only person in the room laughing, Matthew cleared his throat and tried not to notice the heat pooling in certain areas of his body. As he realized that he would be spending an hour a day over the next three months staring at the beautiful man on the stage, Matthew had to admit that his friend, Michael, had been right. It had been far too long since Matthew had done any serious “research” for his novels.

  * * * *

  Despite Duncan’s attention to all of the participants and his consistent demonstration—and reminders—of the modified moves for those who were becoming tired, Matthew’s t-shirt was soaked through, his lungs were on fire and his body felt as if he’d just relived all of his sexual experiences in the last hour; and that included the unemployed actor he’d seen for almost two years—the very muscular action-star wannabe who wasn’t happy until he and Matthew had done it at least five times a day.

  Any thoughts of Duncan as the sweet reserved type had gone out the proverbial window the minute the warm-up started. And any impure thoughts Matthew had had while watching Duncan’s powerful muscles flex and strain, or while hearing the guttural grunts and moans of that raspy bass voice, were long forgotten by the time Matthew realized that Mondays would be nothing but push-ups and pull-ups.

  As Duncan led everyone through the cool-down, Matthew felt a little better as he commiserated with a few of the other participants who’d also had some difficulty keeping up. Directly in front of him was Sandra, a housewife from the valley who had grown frustrated by all of her failed attempts to lose the baby weight her fourth child had brought. Immediately to his left was Joey, a tax attorney who’d wanted to join to ensure the heart attack he’d suffered last year would be his last. And to his right was Emma, a police officer who hadn’t realized she’d gotten so comfortable on the job that she almost failed her last physical.

  Duncan announced that tomorrow evening would be a cardio workout and Matthew found himself relaxing a little; cardio, he could do with no problem. He followed Joe and Emma up to the table where all of the participants were encouraged to drink the recovery formula that promised to help with muscle soreness. It wasn’t until he’d finished his eight ounces that Matthew realized he’d not consumed enough water during the workout tonight. He threw his cup into the blue bin and was headed for the showers, hoping he wouldn’t be too sore tomorrow. He had a fair bit of work to do around the new house still, and while he welcomed an excuse to keep him from painting the hallway and the foyer, he wasn’t sure he could look at that chartreuse color anymore. Before he made it half way to the showers, Matthew heard the booming bass voice beside him.

  “You made it!”

  Matthew looked over at Duncan’s smiling face and couldn’t help but return the smile. “Yes, it was touch and go there for a while, but I’m glad it’s over.”

  Duncan let go of a loud one-note laugh and reached out to place his hand on Matthew’s shoulder, the long, powerful fingers squeezing briefly before letting go. “Only 89 more days to go.” Duncan offered another quick squeeze to Matthew’s shoulder and then headed back to retrieve his towel from the small stage.

  Matthew realized how negative he must have sounded and searched his brain for some sort of apology. “But I’m also really glad I decided to take part,” he half-yelled across the spacious workout studio. “You’re a great instructor. I think your program is going to be a huge success.”

  “Thank you, Matthew.” Duncan picked up his towel and quickly wiped his brow. He stuffed one end of the thick, yellow towel into his shorts and then pulled off his t-shirt in one smooth movement.

  Matthew wondered if Duncan knew the effect his body had on people. With almost no body fat, Duncan was something akin to a bronzed statue straight out of a museum. It would be easy for Matthew to assume that Duncan could get plenty of action, from males and females whichever he chose, but there was something about this gorgeous man that made Matthew wonder if he got any action at all. He couldn’t pinpoint one specific thing, but with each exchange, Matthew became more and more convinced that Duncan was just as big an emotional mess as he was. And the writer in Matthew was becoming more and more interested in learning everything about Duncan.

  DAY TEN

  Even though he knew better than to go after an ex-Marine like Duncan, and even though he knew better than to complicate his already busy life with thoughts of what it would be like to try his favorite sexual positions with someone as powerfully built as Duncan, Matthew kept finding himself arriving earlier and earlier to the studio. By day six, he had almost arrived before Duncan. And today, day ten, he actually did. He thought of throwing his car into reverse so that he could drive around for a half-hour, but then he noticed a beat-up old sedan pull into the parking lot. He closed his eyes and prayed it wasn’t Duncan.

  Matthew watched as Duncan exited the very old, beat-up army green SUV. He opened his own car door and cursed to himself as he felt frozen to a spot beside his own car. From fifteen feet away, he was about to offer some teasing words to Duncan about what his first purchase should be when his program was successful, but stopped short when he noticed the tight Levi jeans and sandals. Matthew couldn’t believe his eyes; it hadn’t taken him long that first night to realize that Duncan was physically perfect, but seeing him in street clothes— as if he were going out for some milk at the corner store— made Matthew want him even more. It was one thing to see and fantasize about Duncan while his muscles were flexing and straining, but to see him as if he were dressed for a leisurely stroll through the park was enough to send Matthew’s mind reeling, clutching at the images of the two of them with two Samoyeds puppies and green tea from that coffee shop they both loved on lazy Saturday mornings.

  “Have I created a monster?”

  Matthew wasn’t really sure what the words meant and blushed at the idiotic thought that Duncan had somehow read his mind. “Oh…no, I was just…I had a bad case of writer’s block, so I decided to get out of the house.”

  “You’re a writer?”

  He smiled at Duncan as the big ex-Marine closed the distance between them and stood in front of Matthew. He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks and tried his best to downplay his accomplishments. “Yeah, more part-time really.”

  “What do you write about?”

  Matthew had never hesitated to respond to this question in the past; he’d always told people— very proudly— that he wrote queer romance to be precise. But staring up into Duncan’s hypnotic blue eyes, Matthew wasn’t really sure how to answer that question. “I, uh, write fiction…mostly.”

  “Like detective stories or legal thrillers?”

  “Something like that, yeah,” Matthew said, wishing that he hadn’t said anything about his profession. As proud as he was of his accomplishments, experience had nonetheless taught him that not everyone would be so accepting of the kind of fiction he wrote. With most people, Matthew enjoyed explaining what kind of stories he wrote, but Duncan wasn’t most people; there was something about this man that made Matthew want to keep him around as long as possible.

  “Well, this is my lucky day then.” Duncan pulled open the front door to the studio and stood aside to let Matthew pass. “I’ve been looking for someone who can help me with all the writing I’ll have to do if this program is successful.”

  “
I could help you with that,” Matthew said as he found himself mesmerized by the smile on Duncan’s face.

  “Great!” Duncan’s expression changed a little, and Matthew wondered if he was supposed to say something now. “You coming in?”

  “Huh, oh, yeah, sorry.” Matthew passed by Duncan and chastised himself for letting himself think that anything could happen with this gorgeous man. Why do I always do this to myself? Why do I always think that any man who’s nice to me is interested in more?

  “Maybe we could meet sometime…for coffee, I mean, and I could show you what I’ve got so far?” Duncan stopped at the door to the locker room, and Matthew realized— for the first time— that he would have to get changed in front of this perfect specimen.

  “Sure,” Matthew threw his duffle bag on the floor and began to rummage for a pen and something to write his phone number on. “I’ll give you my cell number and—”

  “I can get it off the intake form that you filled out,” Duncan said as he pushed open the door and waited for Matthew to pass.

  “Oh…right…sorry,” Matthew said, fully aware of how meek and embarrassed his voice sounded.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Me?” Matthew tried to sound nonchalant as he waved his hand, as if to indicate that there was absolutely nothing wrong with him. As he passed Duncan and caught the scent of after shave, Matthew closed his eyes and promised himself he would never again arrive early.

  DAY FIFTEEN

  “Your writer’s block must have passed, huh?”

  Matthew looked up from his impromptu stretching before class, his eyes at the same level as Duncan’s groin. “My what?”

  “Your writer’s block.” Duncan sat down a few feet away from Matthew, spread his legs wide, positioned his feet against Matthew’s and then leaned forward, offering his hands. “Here, let me help.”

  Matthew put his hands in Duncan’s and felt the stretch in his hamstrings as the ex-Marine leaned back slightly. The calloused, yet gentle, hands on his brought a flush to his cheeks and betrayed his own impure thoughts. He breathed in and out, slowly, and willed his mind to concentrate on something— anything— else.

  “I haven’t seen you here early lately, so I figured your writer’s block must be cured.” Duncan said as he brought his body forward and released the stretch on Matthew’s legs.

  “Oh,” Matthew grunted as he was pulled forward again. “Yeah, it comes and goes.”

  “Must be a real pain in the ass, huh?” Duncan said, in conciliation, as he released the stretch again.

  Matthew offered a slight grunt as he was pulled forward again and breathed in and out, willing his mind to focus on anything other than how tight Duncan’s shorts seemed to get, or how flat his stomach was, every time he leaned back.

  “So are you busy tonight?”

  “Huh?” One of Matthew’s hands came free when his head jerked up at the question.

  “To work on the book,” Duncan said with a smile, and reached out to take back Matthew’s hand. “Unless you’ve changed your mind.”

  “No,” Matthew grunted, hoping the stretching would be over soon. “Haven’t changed my mind.”

  “Good,” Duncan said as he released both of Matthew’s hands, brought his own knees up to his chest and let his forearms rest on top of them. “My place okay?”

  “Sure,” Matthew said, proud that he answered the question without any awkwardness this time. “I’ll just follow you after class then?”

  “Sounds good.”

  And with those two words, Matthew’s mind began working overtime wondering what kind of furniture Duncan would have, what kind of pictures would be on the walls and whether Duncan was a total slob or a neat freak— or something in between, like Matthew.

  Almost an hour later, Matthew found himself beginning to panic; the idea of going to Duncan’s place had been exciting at first, but now that he would be there within the next thirty minutes, he realized he’d spent the entire workout thinking of Duncan’s furniture and whether he would like it or not. He simply hadn’t readied himself for spending a couple of hours alone, with Duncan, in Duncan’s house, without three rows of people between them. He’d been a lapsed Catholic for most of his life, but he crossed himself quickly as he headed for the locker room.

  Matthew had planned on parking on the street, but then he noticed Duncan standing at the end of his driveway, waving him behind the army green SUV. And for the moment it took him to turn off the engine and cross himself yet again, Matthew smiled at the thought that this is what it would feel like to come home to Duncan every night. Shaking his head, he exited his vehicle and hoped that he didn’t look like a giddy schoolgirl.

  Matthew knocked on the bright red door and waited for a few moments, wondering if the interior of the house was immaculate as the exterior. When the door opened, Matthew reminded himself to breathe. Duncan welcomed him into the spacious and sparsely decorated three-storey home. He admired the minimalism of the black leather sectional and the two large pieces of black-and-white modern art positioned carefully on the white walls. The only color in the room came from the jacket spines of the books, precisely arranged on the built-in shelves flanking the floor-to-ceiling fireplace. Duncan led them almost immediately to the dining room table where an open laptop and several piles of paper awaited them. Matthew took the seat opposite the laptop.

  “So, this is what I have so far.” Duncan said as he let his hand rest on Matthew’s shoulder and laid a thick pile of printed pages in front of him. Duncan took the seat beside him. “You’re really starting to show some good muscle growth, especially in your shoulders.”

  “Oh, thanks,” Matthew said with a slight smile, straightening up and pulling his shoulders back. Like Pavlov’s dog, the little voice in his head teased. One touch from a hot guy and you’re already wondering how well your stuff will go with his. Matthew ignored the voice and started flipping through the pages. “So, what is it you need my help with, exactly?”

  “Well, I know what it is I want the message to be, but I’m not sure if I’m being too hopeful in thinking that people will read all this.”

  “Have you done any kind of research on what people found useful or useless about other books of this kind?”

  “You see?” Duncan leaned forward and put his hand back on Matthew’s shoulder. “I knew asking a real writer would be the best idea I’d had.”

  Matthew felt his cheeks flush and wondered if Duncan would feel that way if he knew that Matthew was really Campbell Connelly, or that Campbell Connelly wrote about men falling in love while they did naughty things to each other in almost impossible gymnast-like positions. “Well, thanks, but—”

  “You never did tell me what kind of fiction you write.” Duncan didn’t wait for Matthew to answer. “I went online to try and find some of your books, but…” Duncan let the thought hang in the air and shrugged his shoulders as he leaned back in his chair.

  “I use a pen name.” Matthew was certain his tone of voice and the conviction with which he made the announcement would negate the need to explain that he did it for privacy reasons, reasons that didn’t involve being hounded by the press or his millions of adoring fans. “So, have you done research into what people want or not?”

  “I have.” Duncan picked up a manila folder from the chair beside him and pushed it across the table. “What’s your pen name?”

  “Okay, so what we need to do, perhaps, is insure that you’ve included what people are looking for in an exercise program.”

  “Are you famous?” Duncan’s eyes twinkled and Matthew knew he wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. “Did you write those Harry Potter books?” Duncan’s voice was low and his smile made Matthew laugh out loud.

  “Yes, I’m a blond, Scottish woman worth a geschmillion dollars,” Matthew said as pointed over his shoulder. “That’s why I drive that piece of shit. It’s part of my disguise.” Matthew felt himself relax a little as Duncan’s deep, booming laugh echoed in the sparsely
-furnished dining room.

  “I’m sorry; I won’t push you anymore.”

  “Campbell Connelly.” The words were out of his mouth before he’d given them proper thought. No problem, the little voice said, sarcasm evident, maybe you’ll be able to outrun him.

  “The Campbell Connelly? Author of Slowly Again?” Duncan’s expression seemed to be one of genuine surprise, but Matthew still kept himself on guard. He’d been lulled into this false sense of security before, so he knew better than to assume Duncan meant that as a compliment. The book had created something of a controversy when it was first released ten years ago. It had been called everything from “groundbreaking” to “pornography”. Matthew had been very glad that he’d decided to go with a pen name.

  “That is one of my favorite books.” Duncan leaned forward again, his cheeks flushed. “And that last love scene? Still my number one unfulfilled fantasy.” Duncan waggled his eyebrows as he leaned back in his chair, and mouthed the word “Sexy”.

  Matthew tried to compose himself. Jesus Christ, man, you’re a writer. Think of something witty to say. “I guess I don’t have to worry about out-running you then, huh?”

  “Only if you’re single.”

  Matthew felt his jaw drop, his inner voice having been silenced once again. He looked into Duncan’s blue eyes as he felt the cold sweat begin to form at his hairline.

  “Sorry, I’ve embarrassed you. Or you think I’m a complete idiot.”

  “No, not at all.” Matthew told himself to get back to the book, to say something, to do anything, but his mind was far too busy conjuring up images of helping Duncan fulfill his number one unfulfilled fantasy. “I just don’t get to meet a lot of fans.”

  “Sorry, I’ll behave.”

  “I thought you wanted help with your book?” Matthew felt, for the first time in his adult life, at a complete loss for words. He’d always considered himself the aggressive type when it came to going after what he wanted, but now he was face-to-face with a man— and an incredibly gorgeous one at that— who was pursuing him shamelessly. The only problem was that Matthew didn’t know whether he liked being the prey instead of the predator.