by B. G. Thomas
“Yup,” she said and took the flask from Cole. She took a drink and winced only slightly.
“Good Kentucky whiskey,” Cole had said.
She gave a slight cough. “Of course, I used vodka to spike the punch. Not whiskey. Much easier to disguise.”
That was the truth. The homecoming queen had almost fallen off the stage.
“I’m not so much worried about that tonight,” he replied. “Guess I’m just into feeling a little naughty.” Then he looked straight at me.
My breath caught, and Cole drank. I watched his throat move as the burning alcohol went down. That throat. Even that was sexy. Strong.
A man’s throat.
Could a throat be sexy?
My pulse quickened. I felt sweat rolling down my ribs.
Then he handed me the flask. Our fingers not only touched this time, they intertwined. And dammit, I did nothing to stop it. My heart was pounding now. Our eyes locked.
He leaned in. “You’re driving me crazy,” he whispered, and I hoped Amy didn’t hear. But how could she help it? She was barely two feet away. “You gotta make up your mind.”
Make up my mind? What the fuck was that supposed to mean?
I pulled the whiskey away from him and took a long swig.
“Hold on there, partner,” Amy drawled. “Save some for us, old hoss.”
I started to cough, and Cole slapped my back and—damn it, damn it, damn it!—even that touch heated me up. When I stopped coughing, I choked out, “Damn!”
Cole was standing so close. I felt my cock moving, looking for room to stretch out. It was his eyes.
“I’ve got to go,” I said and spun away.
“Neil,” Amy called out.
“You okay, Big Daddy?” Cole’s voice, even raised in worry, was like honey.
I got about two feet before Amy grabbed my arm. I pulled away.
“Neil? Babe?” I couldn’t see her face. The flames were behind her, silhouetting her.
“You’re driving me crazy,” he’d whispered. “You gotta make up your mind.”
No! No decision to be made. I couldn’t go back. I’d escaped it all these years. I couldn’t go back.
I started to tremble. I backed away.
“Neil?”
“Let him go,” Cole said.
I turned and ran.
I had to get out of there, and I had to get away as fast as I could.
THAT NIGHT, I had a very intense dream.
I was soaking in the hot tub when I heard a noise. A sort of gurgling. Curious, I climbed naked from the water and went to the gate.
Me. Without a towel.
How did I not know it was a dream? How do we dream such things and not know it can’t be real?
“Hello?” I asked.
Nothing.
I opened the gate, as casually as could be, worried not in the least about being naked.
There before me was a huge black bear.
I froze, terrified.
It reared up on its hind legs, looking like it must be ten feet tall. More. Fifteen feet. Who measured such things in the world of sleep?
The bear lunged forward, and of course I couldn’t move. I screamed, and it threw its shaggy arms around me, its huge mouth open wide, and I could actually feel its hot breath, feel the claws on my back—so sharp. It was so real!
I tried to wake myself, finally knowing this couldn’t be real. Hoping it wasn’t. Begging that it wasn’t. But in Morpheus’s realm I stayed.
And then the great bear began to change.
It began to shift, its flesh moving and flowing. Like a candle, the bear began to melt, transforming against me. The hair was retreating into its body, disappearing, the snout shrinking away, its form growing smaller and slimmer, and then…
…and then it was Cole.
He was naked.
His arms were still wrapped around me, his hands on my shoulder blades, and he was looking at me, into me, with those exotic eyes.
Eyes filled with pure lust.
I felt his hardness against me, and when I looked—for some reason I could see—I saw he was fully erect, his cock throbbing with excitement.
He kissed me.
My heart felt like it would explode inside my chest.
He thrust his cock against mine and, oh yes, I was hard too! His skin was smooth, so smooth, and it was crushing up against the thick hair on my own chest. It felt so damned real and, even in the dream, I sensed the irony of how now I was the hairy one.
The kiss seemed to go on forever, and a heat rose up within me. Below, our cocks were dueling, slipping, sliding, crushing against each other….
Abruptly Cole pulled back.
I cried out from wanting his lips on mine. Then he fell to his knees and took my thick length into his mouth. It was so wet and warm and real!
When I looked down at that masculine, beautiful man sucking me, it was over. I came violently and awoke with a shout.
I discovered I had ejaculated all over myself. My chest and belly were covered in my seed. I hadn’t had an orgasm with so much semen since I was a teen.
And when had I last had a wet dream? Years?
Fuck! I couldn’t escape Cole. Not even when I slept. This had to stop or I was doomed.
CHAPTER 8: Dealing with It
THE NEXT morning at breakfast, I realized I needed to make a quick trip back to my cabin before the day’s activities began. I’d made a little mistake. There had been a failure to communicate. Thankfully, I had the little golf cart, so it wouldn’t take long to take care of it.
We were going on a hike that morning, and since it was supposed to be a hot day, I’d figured it might be a good idea to wear shorts.
Nope.
Cole strongly advised we all wear jeans for protection against the nettles and thistles.
And boots to protect us from snakes.
Snakes…! How had I forgotten about the snakes?
Western diamondbacks. Timber rattlers. Western pygmy rattlesnakes.
And copperheads. Copperheads were snakes that instead of slithering off when they heard people coming, or coiling up and shaking their rattles, elected to play dead. And if you stepped on them, they bit you!
I shuddered at the thought. Jeans and cowboy boots it was.
It didn’t help that I wasn’t having the best morning. Cole had been distant—could I blame him?—but professional. I felt a tension that all but ruined my mood of the last few days.
I was leaving the dining room to dash back to my cabin to change when I noticed Darla Clark was in her office.
I looked back into the dining room at Cole. My heart skipped in my chest. My stomach did that clench thing it had been doing a lot of since I’d gotten to Black Bear. I looked at Darla again.
And then I made a decision.
I walked to the door, stood there looking at her, building my courage, then glanced back into the main hall.
But it wasn’t Cole I saw. It was the towering stuffed bear, its arm upraised.
That did it.
I knocked on the threshold of her office. She looked up and her expression turned from one of studious concentration to a very big smile. Her whole face brightened. “Good morning, Mr. Baxter!”
Would she still be smiling after I spoke with her?
“Neil,” I said.
She nodded. “Neil.”
I opened my mouth and dammit, the words just wouldn’t come. What did I say? What was I asking? I didn’t know how to start.
Cole is coming on to me, and I don’t like gay men?
“Are you all right?” she asked, concern now filling her face.
“I… I don’t know,” I stammered. “I don’t know where to start, how to….”
“Please, sit down,” she said, then got up and gestured to the chair in front of her desk. I did as she said, and she closed her office door. She sat before me on the edge of her desk. She was wearing a classic cowgirl outfit in navy and pale blue, with matching boots and a bolo
tie. I noticed a blue cowboy hat hanging from a peg on the wall. Not what I was used to seeing a woman her age—was she sixty-five, maybe?—wearing. And somehow, she did it all without looking ridiculous. Adorable might have been the right word.
It made my stomach relax a little bit.
But not much.
“What’s this about? Is it your cabin?”
My cabin?
“I know it’s a little out of the way, and I’m sure you would have preferred to be with your fam—”
“Oh! Oh no.” My cabin was perfect. I took a deep breath. “Mrs. Clark. It—”
“Darla, please.”
Damn! Why did she have to stop me? Was I going to get this out? I had to.
This wasn’t a want. This was a need.
“It’s about Cole,” I said, anxiety sweeping over me. I felt my upper lip break out into a sweat.
“Cole?” she said, a gray eyebrow shooting up.
I nodded.
“Did Cole do something to upset you? Cole?”
I could see I’d stunned her. Was it possible she didn’t know?
“Not did something exactly,” I replied. Then, taking a deep breath: “Darla…. He’s… he’s gay!”
Darla nodded her head. “Yes, I know.” She blinked at me. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“That’s not enough?” I cried.
“Mr.—Neil.” She paused. “I know Cole is gay.”
“You do?” I asked.
“Of course,” she replied. “And I can’t see how it could possibly be a problem.” Any sympathy had disappeared from her expression. “Unless he’s behaved improperly, that is—and mind you, I find that very hard to believe.”
“I… I….” What was happening to the world? How could she be so casual?
Amy was okay with Cole being gay. Her kids were. My own daughter.
And now an older woman as well? Didn’t country women have a different moral standard than city people? I always thought gay men had a hard time of it in small towns. I figured a ranch would be the same. It was one thing for gay men to hang out in their inner-city gay ghettos. It was one thing for them to make merry in decadent places like San Francisco or Key West or Provincetown. But Black Bear Ranch? Where people brought their families?
Would Darla be so casual if she knew that Cole had made sexual advances to me? At least twice? Would that be okay too?
Yet now, with Darla’s attitude—with that almost steely expression on her face—I found myself unable to tell her.
“I can’t be the first to be concerned about his… lifestyle,” I said, finally finding my voice. “Your guests…. I’ve chatted with some of them. A lot of them are country folk. There’s a truck driver. A pastor. A preschool teacher. And that’s not even counting the families with children. Little kids! I can’t believe no one else has said anything.”
Her brows came together, a dark cloud seeming to form over her head.
Not good.
“First, Neil, what Cole does in private is none of my business, and frankly none of yours either.”
It certainly was if Cole was hitting on me! But before I could say that, she continued.
“Neil. It’s also the twenty-first century. Same-sex marriage is legal now. Intolerance of other people’s lifestyles or choices or orientations—that’s becoming a thing of the past.”
Damn. It was almost exactly what Crystal had said.
“Second, I don’t match Cole up with people uncomfortable with homosexuality. Or with rednecks and church groups—especially conservative church groups. And we get ’em! I’m not stupid. I match him up with gay groups or open-minded individuals.” There was no missing her emphasis on the word “open-minded.” She leaned back on her desk. “He doesn’t advertise his sexuality, but he isn’t hiding either. Your family knows about him. They have for years. And so he’s open with them.”
I sat there, stunned, looking up at her. My head was swirling. I didn’t know what to say. She was right. My family did know. And loved him. And as far as the more conservative guests I had chatted with, well, none of them had even mentioned Cole’s sexuality. They’d only talked about his friendliness or his singing or his riding ability. Either there were a lot more open-minded people than I had ever guessed, or it was like Darla said. He’d just kept that part of himself to himself.
But what about the fact that he’d come on to me at my cabin? Suggested that he might come by and keep me company? That he’d made me very uncomfortable pointing out my “hobbit feet”? That he’d played suck-finger with me last night?
That I had a sex dream about him, that he was stirring feelings in me I’d been successfully keeping at bay most of my life?
No. I certainly wasn’t going to tell her that last.
“What would you like me to do, Neil?”
I stood up and then just froze—like the stuffed bear in the foyer. I don’t know what I’d thought her reaction was going to be, but that was not it. I took a deep breath.
“Darla, he makes me uncomfortable. I’ve never…. I’m not used to….”
“Neil,” she said, leaning forward again, resting her palms on the edge of the desk. “I’m sorry to hear that. I can talk to him. The last thing I want you to be is uncomfortable. That’s the opposite of what we pride ourselves on here at Black Bear.” She paused. “But frankly, I’m surprised. Cole has been with us nearly eight years now, and we’ve never had a complaint. Sure, I’ve heard a few hateful comments when someone didn’t know I heard them. Faggot. That kind of thing.” She said this last with a distasteful look on her face. “Running a place like this, we’re going to get rednecks. We’re very popular with the church crowd, who come here to not only ride horses, but to have prayer retreats.”
I nodded.
“But understand this. Vincent and I love Cole very much. He’s family.”
Shit, I thought. Her eyes had gone… not steely exactly… determined. There wasn’t going to be much sympathy here.
“He’s a good man, Neil. And a very good wrangler. He’s a favorite with all the guests. He’s almost always requested ahead of time.”
Requested ahead of time? Had Amy requested Cole?
Wait. What had Crystal said? I sure hope we get Cole again.
“Surely you know your family loves Cole?”
Apparently….
“And, well, from what I’ve been observing, I thought you liked him too.”
I sighed. Surprised myself when I trembled.
I had liked Cole. I did like Cole. Frankly, a little too much.
A lot too much.
“This is your third day. All the guests have become acquainted with their wranglers now. You can see the disruption it would cause if I were to switch Cole with someone else, can’t you? Have you talked to your family about this? I bet it would make them unhappy. I could switch you into another group, but surely you don’t want that.”
Shit. No, no. I didn’t want that.
“Look, I know this is your vacation and you want to enjoy yourself. We’ve already started off on the wrong foot by putting you in a cabin all by yourself, away from your family. So I’m guessing you don’t want to be separated from them during the day.”
“No. No, I don’t,” I muttered aloud.
“I don’t know what to say about your feelings about homosexuality, except it really has no bearing here. Cole’s private life has no bearing here.”
What about the fact he’s making passes at me? I wanted to shout. But the words stuck in my throat. I felt embarrassed. She was so sure Cole was strictly professional. Would she believe some of the things that had happened between us? Hell! Would she wonder if I’d led Cole on? Had I? With all the staring, had I done something to make him think I was interested? Shit! What about if what happened in the hot tub came to light? Fuck!
Suddenly, the walls seemed to be very close.
Claustrophobically close.
I needed to get out. Get outside. Where I could breathe. “I…
I… I’m sorry!” I stepped back, almost tripping back into my chair.
“Are you all right, Mr. Baxter?”
“Neil,” I said, and fled.
Outside was better. I didn’t feel closed in. How could I with that gorgeous, open blue sky? I could breathe again—that air that smelled of growing things. I took it deep into my lungs. I sat down on the edge of the porch and just breathed. In. Out. In. Slowly out. My heart was racing, but after a moment, breathing that clear, magical air, I started to feel a little better.
“Neil?”
I looked up to see Darla Clark standing over me. “Tea?” she asked and handed me a large glass. I took it, the ice cubes tinkling like the chimes lining the porch, the sun shining off them like crystals. I took a long drink. Sweet.
Exactly as I liked it. Not too sweet. Perfect.
“Better?” she asked.
I managed a nod.
She sat down next to me.
“Is it a religious thing?”
I looked at her confused. “Religious thing?”
“Your problem with Cole. All that ‘Thou shalt not lie with a man, as with woman—it is abomination’ stuff.”
I shook my head. “No.” I looked back at the sky. There was a single cloud. And flying overhead that hawk or whatever it was. Floating on the air. Free. “I don’t believe in God,” I said.
Not my mother’s God.
“I’ve always thought that was a load of bullshit,” she said and swung her legs.
Had Darla Clark just said “bullshit”?
She went on. “What is it, then? If you don’t believe in God, why do you care if someone’s gay? It’s usually the Bible quoters who have the problem.”
“I’m just not used to it,” I said.
“You’ve never known a gay man before?”
I didn’t answer. I’d known gay men all right. Like the supervisor who showed me how gay men really were and treated me like I was a piece of meat. It seemed that any gay men I met only wanted to be sexual with me. And of course there was George. And just his name brought a twinge of the old guilt.
And Jack.
That made me tremble again.
And that wasn’t mentioning… other things.
“They’re not all sex fiends, you know,” Darla said as if reading my mind. “They aren’t trying to recruit you. Cole knows you were married.”