Lotus Position

by J. M. Snyder

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  * * *

  THE POSITIONS OF LOVE

  BOOK X: LOTUS POSITION

  by

  J. M. SNYDER

  Amber Quill Press, LLC

  http://www.amberquill.com

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  * * *

  Lotus Position

  An Amber Quill Press Book

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or have been used fictitiously.

  Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Amber Quill Press, LLC

  http://www.amberquill.com

  http://www.amberheat.com

  http://www.amberallure.com

  All rights reserved.

  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.

  Copyright © 2008 by J. M. Snyder

  ISBN 978-1-60272-361-0

  Cover Art © 2008 Trace Edward Zaber

  Layout and Formatting

  Provided by: Elemental Alchemy

  Published in the United States of America

  Also by J. M. Snyder

  All Shook Up

  Beneath A Yankee Sky

  The Bonds Of Love

  Crushed

  Matching Tats

  On Company Time

  Persistence of Memory

  The Powers of Love

  The Regent's Knight

  Under A Confederate Moon

  Wanted

  With This Ring

  The Positions Of Love

  Book I: The Positions Of Love

  Book II: Two Pillars Position

  Book III: Clasping Position

  Book IV: Hammock Position

  Book V: Two Dogs Position

  Book VI: Cowboy Position

  Book VII: Kneeling Butterfly Position

  Book VIII: Pillar And The Ivy Position Book IX: Tripod

  Book X: Lotus

  Book XI: The Arc

  Book XII: Sideways

  LOTUS POSITION

  * * *

  In the summer, Vic Braunson signed up for double shifts at the garage where he worked as a bus driver for the City of Richmond. He drove two routes back-to-back to cover for those employees who took time off to vacation with their families. Vic used to volunteer simply for something to do--he'd had no one in his life who demanded otherwise, and it helped pass long, hot evenings he would have spent alone.

  Until he met Matt diLorenzo.

  Because the summer was a busy time of the year for Matty, who worked as a swim instructor and pool administrator at the gym downtown, Vic still agreed to work double shifts from the first of June through to Labor Day. After that, he took his own vacation. Last year, Vic had just met Matt, and his vacation had been spent falling in love with the man who would change his life in so many ways. This year, he looked forward to two weeks of nothing but downtime, the two of them twined together in the bed sheets or snuggling on the couch. Vic could think of no better way to pass the time.

  Matt, on the other hand, had something different in mind. He wanted a real vacation.

  "Come on," he cajoled as Vic ate dinner one evening. "A few days on the beach, what do you say? It'll be fun. I'll rub suntan oil all over your back, massage it into your scalp..." Matt stood behind him, kneading the taut muscles in Vic's shoulders. His hands worked their way up the base of Vic's neck, their touch invigorating after the long day Vic had had. "We can take walks by the water, or have sex on the beach, and I'm not just talking about the drink, either."

  Vic grunted. "Sounds like you've already made up your mind."

  "I have," Matt declared. "I'm just trying to talk you into it, too."

  With a shrug, Vic admitted, "I'll go wherever you want to go."

  Matt wrapped his arms around Vic's neck in a tight bear hug. Planting a wet kiss on Vic's ear, Matt murmured, "Good thing you said that, because I already booked us a room at a seaside resort and I'll be damned if I'm going alone."

  Using the psychic bond they shared, Vic dipped into Matt's mind--he loved the telepathy Matt gave him because it made communication between them intimate and immediate. Instead of spending the next hour or so talking about the trip Matt had planned, Vic could access the information within seconds, knowing what Matt knew and picking up his lover's excitement. The resort was on an island off the coast of New Jersey, a place called Wildwood, where Matt had spent his summers growing up. His memories were colored with childlike wonder and awe--the beach with its clean sand and clear water, the waves that rolled in high enough to surf, the boardwalk stretching along the shoreline, lined with piers full of amusement park rides and arcades. Kite flying and cotton candy, fresh crabs and roller coasters, the sea and its sun and its spray. Everything about the resort glistened in Matt's mind like a precious pearl hidden among the folds of everyday life.

  Matt sent a mental image to Vic: the boardwalk at night, the beach beneath it dark and empty, the sea churning in the distance like an unsatisfied lover. Matt leaned against the railing of the boardwalk with Vic behind him, their bodies melded together in a comfortable stance. Vic held Matt tight in his arms as a stiff breeze blew in off the ocean, buffeting them. The scent of salt and brine was sharp in the air around them, so heady, so real, that for a moment Vic was sure he smelled it in their small apartment--it drowned out the scent of the pot roast he was finishing off. It overrode his senses, disarming him.

  Suddenly no amount of dinner would satisfy Vic's appetite. He wanted something more, something meatier. Setting down his fork, he caught his lover's wrists to keep Matt draped over him. When he turned his head to the side, he found Matt studying him with a faint smile on his face. "You like?"

  "I want," Vic answered. "Now."

  Matt kissed his nose, a quick peck, then slipped out of Vic's grip to lunge for the hallway. "Race you to the bedroom."

  Vic turned over the chair in his hurry to give chase.

  * * * *

  Wildwood was a six-hour road trip from Richmond. With his lover's memories as his guide, Vic found himself recognizing landmarks and road signs he had never seen before--the blue signs with white seagulls on them that pointed the way to a local ferry, the Delaware Memorial Bridge that spanned the bay, the green markers counting down the miles to Wildwood. Then the small drawbridge that led onto the island itself, spanning salt marshes whose tall reeds rustled in the breeze off the ocean, the sky that looked almost colorless where it touched the water at the horizon, the large Ferris wheel that stood like an imprint against the edge of the world.

  As they crossed the drawbridge, Vic rolled down his window and drew in deep the wharf-like stench of the marsh. Beside him, Matt stirred. With a languid stretch, he squeezed Vic's hand in his and murmured, "We there yet?"

  "Just about." Vic glanced over at the Ferris wheel--it looked insubstantial at this distance, like lines drawn with ink on the clouds. "Is that the boardwalk you keep talking about?"

  Matt sat up and turned in his seat, a smile already spreading across his face. "That's it." Then he leaned against Vic, clutching his arm as he cozied up to his lover. "I haven't been here in years. I'm so excited!"

  Vic gave him a bemused grin. "No, really? I couldn't tell."

  The boardwalk seemed to follow them as they drove down the main street, Atlantic, that ran the length of the island. At each intersection, Vic glanced to his right and could see the raised wooden platform stretch across the street behind Matty. Even this late in the season, and this early in the day, people strolled along the boardwalk, shopping bags in their hands, eating cott
on candy or ice cream or soft pretzels. At one end, long piers stretched out over the beach and into the ocean; amusement park rides covered the piers like neon barnacles, their gaudy lights already flashing amid calliope music that drifted through Matt's open window, tantalizing. Matt sat with his face to the window like a kid peering into a toy store at Christmas. Anticipation crackled around him--Vic felt it easily through their psychic bond, and it was hard not to allow it to color his own feelings. He'd never been to Wildwood before, but Matt loved the place, and Vic suspected before the week was out, he would, too.

  Their motel was at the far end of the boardwalk. Here the rides petered out into souvenir shops and token arcades. Every few blocks, a large ramp led to the boardwalk from the street. The beach began immediately under the boardwalk, with the sea twinkling in the sun almost a mile away. Dune buggies crossed the stretch of sand, transporting people down to the water. Others walked, their arms laden with umbrellas, towels, and water toys.

  There were a lot of families, Vic noticed, mothers with two or three little ones who shrieked in delight as they cavorted in their tiny swimsuits. And a lot of bikinis. Everywhere Vic looked, young women traipsed around half dressed, and guys lounged in swim shorts and nothing else. The island atmosphere was pervasive, slowing traffic to a crawl, making pedestrians linger at street corners or along sidewalks.

  Their room at the motel was a large suite--on one side a queen-sized bed sat on a dais, raised to overlook the rest of the room. Two loveseats huddled around a wide-screen TV in one corner; behind them, a kitchenette with a small breakfast bar provided a place to cook and eat. The back wall was nothing but window panes from floor to ceiling, covered by thick drapes that pulled back to reveal a spectacular view of the sea. As Vic deposited their luggage in the small living room area, Matt pulled the drapes wide and stood, hands on his hips, as he savored the moment.

  When Vic joined him, Matt wrapped both arms around his lover's waist and hugged him tight. "It's gorgeous," he sighed, his breath hot and ticklish through Vic's T-shirt.

  Vic ran a hand across Matt's shoulders, pulling him close. "You did good, Matty. I might never want to leave."

  "Like that's a bad thing?" Matt joked.

  * * * *

  Matt made Vic lie down and relax while he unpacked. After the long car ride, it felt good to stretch out along the motel's firm bed. With his hands folded behind his head, Vic alternately watched his lover move around their suite and stared out the open drapes at the ocean beyond. At some point he dozed, and woke when the rich smell of hot cheesesteaks aroused his senses. "The real deal," Matt told him, unwrapping the hoagies he'd bought. He set them out on the breakfast bar as Vic stretched awake. "Not those imitation sub sandwiches they serve back home. It's been years since I've had an honest to God Philly cheesesteak hoagie, and Al's are the best, I'm telling you. They don't call him the Steak King for nothing. Eat up."

  After dinner, Vic turned around one of the loveseats, away from the television--he couldn't imagine they'd be watching it any time soon, not with the view they had. They cuddled together, a couple of cold beers in hand, and watched the last rays of light dip below the swells of the ocean. The beach took on a wild, windswept beauty as one by one, the people enjoying the sand and surf called it a day. Vic had a nice buzz building inside him, a warm, pleasant feeling brought on by the alcohol and Matt's hand resting on his belt buckle, palm pressed against the slight erection hardening at his crotch. A half-formed thought wafted through Vic's mind--the two of them nude in the bed, the lights out, the drapes still pulled wide. No one outside would see them in the darkness, but they would be able to watch the sea roil beneath the moonlight as they made love...

  A damp kiss on his chin roused him. He turned to find Matt grinning, eyes glistening with anticipation and drink. "I've got a better idea," he said. He caught his lower lip between his teeth as if he couldn't wait to tell Vic what he had in mind.

  But when Vic brushed over his lover's thoughts, he just picked up a blur of lust, nothing definite. Even one beer was enough to make Matt horny, and from the look on his face, he was ready to rumble. Vic felt his own libido rise at his lover's desire. Downing the last of his bottle, he asked, "What are you thinking?"

  The hand on Vic's belt dropped to his crotch and squeezed his dick through his jeans. "Slip out of these," Matt commanded, "and put on a pair of swim trunks."

  "What?" Vic frowned at him. "Why?"

  With a shrug, Matt said, "In case you get wet."

  "You better get me wet," Vic growled.

  Matt laughed. "Come on, play along. Let's start with a walk by the water and see where it leads."

  "Back here to this bed," Vic replied. And if that were the case, why not cut out the walk and just get to the loving already?

  But Matt shook his head. "It's dark out there. No one will see us..."

  Trailing off, he waited for the implications to sink in Vic. The beach was dark, empty this time of the night, and they would be very much alone...

  ::Sex on the beach,:: Matt prodded mentally.

  As if goosed, Vic surged to his feet. He tried to play it off with a stretch, but Matt snickered at his eagerness. "What the hell are we waiting for?"

  * * * *

  Just as they'd hoped, the beach was deserted. A forgotten bucket high above the tide line was all that remained to prove tourists had been there earlier in the day. In the distance, the night sparkled with the neon signs and flashing lights from the boardwalk, and sounds drifted down to the shore, calliope music, shouts and laughter, barkers enticing people to step up and play their games. The wind pulled the noise out like taffy, stretching it over the beach before tossing it to the restless waves. In the darkness, the boardwalk seethed with activity, and the beach seemed bleached and bare in comparison.

  Along the waterline, Vic shuffled his bare feet through sand still warm from the day's light. Every now and then, a tendril of water would tickle his toes or lap his heel, testing him, tasting him. Matt walked so close beside him, his hip bumped Vic's with each step. His arms were around Vic's waist, his head resting back against his lover's chest. Vic had an arm around Matt's shoulder. By turning his head just a little, he could bury his face in Matt's thick curls and breathe deep his clean scent. Together, the night and the man in his embrace aroused him--in the confines of his loose swim trunks, Vic's balls hung low and his cock swung, heavy, at half-mast.

  A little way into their walk, the water splashed offshore as something large breeched the waves. Matt stopped in mid-step and turned; Vic glanced over to see the shiny back of a dolphin in the moonlight. Then Matt touched his face, turning him away from the sea. "Vic," he sighed. "Here."

  He covered Vic's mouth with his own, preventing any reply. His tongue parted Vic's lips, insistent; his fingers wrapped around Vic's ear, tugging him closer as their kiss deepened. The windbreakers they wore crackled as they rubbed against each other, and Vic grabbed fists full of Matt's jacket as he held his lover tight. ::Matty,:: he thought, the word crashing around them like the waves by their side. ::Here? Are you sure? What if--::

  He didn't get to finish that thought--Matt took a step back and stumbled, falling away from him. "Shit!" he cried, laughing.

  Vic held on, tumbling to the ground after his lover. The sand softened their fall. Vic found himself in Matt's lap, something hard and demanding prodding his chest. When Matt tried to scoot out from under him, Vic nipped at the erection tenting Matt's trunks. "What's this?"

  "Three guesses." Matt crawled backwards like a crab, scuttling out from under Vic. "First two don't count."

  Before he could get very far, Vic snagged a mouthful of fabric. Matt turned, trying to get away, but Vic kept his jaws clamped shut and the swim trunks slid down Matt's slim legs, exposing the twin pale moons of his ass. "Hey!" With a palm flat against Vic's forehead, he tried to push his lover away. "No fair."

  Releasing his shorts, Vic stuck out his tongue to lick the cleft between Matt's buttocks. Matt rolled o
nto his stomach, his hips arching away from the sand to press his backside against his lover's face. "Yes," he hissed.

  That was all the encouragement Vic needed. He climbed over Matt, kissing and licking his way around the secret mounds of flesh. His lover's scent filled him like a heady perfume, exotic, intoxicating. Matt's shorts slid down farther as he pushed himself up onto his knees--he raised his hips higher and spread his legs wide, allowing Vic full access to the tender skin that quivered above the heavy sac of his balls. With his tongue, Vic traced the taut tendons that stood out like thin wires along the underside of Matt's fuzzy nuts, then nosed through the ticklish curls to take the dangling weight in his mouth.

  "Gah!" Matt gasped as Vic's tongue danced over his genitals. His hands dug into the sand, seeking purchase, his cheek pressed to the still-warm grains. Through their bond, Vic felt the heat on his own face as the sand molded to Matt's features and gave way beneath his fists. It felt harsh and foreign on Matt's cock, the strange irritation arousing in its own way as Matt humped the ground. His shorts were gone now, and his windbreaker had ridden up to expose the smooth stretch of his back. "Yes," he sighed as Vic used his lips and tongue to massage his balls. "Yes, God, yes."

  Suddenly cool water trickled up Vic's legs to splash against Matt's thighs. Vic caught a face full of brine as the small wave crested over Matt's knees. He sat back, sputtering, only to find himself sitting in the sea. The water seeped through his swim trunks and tickled along the length of his own hard dick. "What the hell?"

  With a laugh, Matt rolled over, then did his little backwards crab walk to get away from the next wave. "The tide's coming in," he told Vic. "We should move up a little. Hey! My shorts!"