Lauderdale Hearts
Johnny Miles
www.loose-id.com
Lauderdale Hearts Copyright © January 2011 by Johnny Miles All righ...
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Lauderdale Hearts
Johnny Miles
www.loose-id.com
Lauderdale Hearts Copyright © January 2011 by Johnny Miles All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions. eISBN 978-1-60737-935-5 Editor: Jules Robin Cover Artist: April Martinez Printed in the United States of America
Published by Loose Id LLC PO Box 425960 San Francisco CA 94142-5960 www.loose-id.com This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author‟s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Chapter One Something is definitely wrong, Blake Hudson thought as he climbed out of bed and made his way to the master bathroom. Normally, he enjoyed the feel of the Berber carpet beneath his feet, but the light-headed dizziness and the splitting headache were making him feel queasy. It was difficult to focus on things that brought him pleasure. Bosco, his chocolate Lab, jumped out of bed and followed. As Blake walked into the bathroom, the lights—on an automatic sensor— flickered on. Blake squinted against the brightness and rummaged through the medicine cabinet for the bottle of aspirin. He popped the tab, shook out two tablets, and downed them with a swig of tap water. The urge to pee grew stronger, and with the room still spinning, Blake sat instead of standing. No, he said to himself, continuing the thought from before. Not wrong. Just…not right. Blake knew it was an odd word to describe how he felt, but he couldn‟t put his finger on it. No. I definitely don’t feel right. But as his rational side started waking up, Blake shoved the words aside almost as soon as they came to mind. The brain was a powerful muscle. It would not do to think like that. He had a lot to do today, and just one tiny suspicion, one little doubt, would ruin everything and only make it worse. I‟m just tired, Blake thought. Been working too damn hard. Blake finished, flushed, and stood. Washing his hands, he looked at his reflection in the mirror over the vanity. There were dark circles under his hazel
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eyes, and his skin tone looked off. But then again, it was the middle of January in New York City. Everyone‟s color was off. I need a vacation. But he couldn‟t just take off, despite the fact that he‟d made partner a year and a half ago. He had worked like a slave for the past seven years, and now he was working just as hard, if not harder. Only this time he was getting a higher percentage of the profits. Plus, any new accounts he brought to the advertising firm were his. Blake ran a hand through his thick, soft, dirty blond curls and smiled at the thought of the Lewis Harte account. It was a multimillion-dollar deal Blake had been sniffing after like a dog greeting a stranger. No, worse. The way Blake had pursued Harte was more like Harte was a bitch in heat and Blake the only top dog that could smell the pheromones. He‟d mount Harte if that was what it took. They were close to an agreement, but Blake wasn‟t past whoring himself out to get what he wanted. He‟d done it before; he‟d do it again. It was easy for him. All he had to do was flash a warm smile, give a look, and the client was putty in his hands. He had no doubt the contract would be signed before the night was over. Music went on overhead through the system Blake had had installed when he first moved into the penthouse apartment nearly eighteen months ago. The system gave him access to all his music—any way he wanted it—in every room of the house. Five thirty. He‟d have to get moving if he wanted to get in a good run, walk the dog, answer his e-mail, write his weekly blog entry on marketing trends, and drop off his custom-fitted shirts at the dry cleaner‟s—all before getting to the office. The headache seemed to be ebbing, and he could get moving. As Katrina and the Waves gave way to the Kooks, Blake pulled on his sweats and sat at the edge of the bed to put on his socks and running shoes.
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Blake stopped to scratch Bosco behind his ears, as the dog had chosen that very moment to nudge him. “Oh, my boy! What a good doggy you are. But Daddy‟s been ignoring you, huh?” Blake lapsed into baby talk. Bosco wagged his tail faster and gave Blake his paw. If only men were this easy. This loyal. “Bad Daddy‟s been working real hard, huh?” A sudden, heavy feeling in Blake‟s chest made him stop and gasp for air. Then a sharp pain just beneath his collarbone and slightly above his heart made him wince. He arched his back, trying to ease his discomfort. Bosco gave a small whimper of disappointment at losing Blake‟s touch. Fucking chimichangas, Blake thought. Last time I hook up with anybody from Grindr! It seemed lately the guys he‟d been meeting were heavily into Mexican cuisine. Blake gasped a second time, sucking down as much air as possible. As he slowly exhaled, he felt himself relax. Then he jumped up, went back to the bathroom, and popped a couple of antacids from the open container on the marble counter. With a quick burst of energy, Blake turned and trotted out of his bedroom and through the living room, which had the leather sofa pit and the high-definition plasma television complete with surround sound. Bosco chased after him, nails clattering on the highly polished bamboo floor. In the kitchen, which was filled with stainless-steel appliances he hardly ever used, Blake opened the double-sided refrigerator. He pulled out the fruit smoothie he‟d blended the night before, then sniffed at the coffee just beginning to brew and sighed with satisfaction before leashing Bosco, grabbing his keys, and heading out.
***
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Blake paid the cabbie after they came to a stop at Madison Avenue. Blake opened the door and stepped out. The skies were dark and gray, and a cold harsh wind stung his face. At the curb, an older man rushing for the freshly vacated taxi almost knocked him down. “Excuse the fuck outta me, asshole!” Blake muttered with a click of his tongue, then dashed through the thickening crowd. He pushed the revolving doors and stepped into the art-deco lobby of the building where he worked. The security guard looked up from the New York Post and grinned. The guard nodded and Blake waved in acknowledgment. “Kinda early, huh? Big day ahead?” asked the security guard. “Yeah, something like that,” Blake said, peering at his Rolex. Why did every one think it was so damn early? It was a few minutes past eight! “Sorry, but I gotta head up.” Blake smiled apologetically, but the truth was that he was pissed. He just didn‟t want to let the guard know. For some reason the man had taken a liking to Blake and if he knew he‟d want Blake to stop and vent. Blake wasn‟t exactly in the mood to explain how he‟d been so winded that morning he couldn‟t finish his run. Or that the coffeemaker had gone on the fritz, so when he‟d returned from his run, coffee had spilled everywhere. Or that Bosco had been far too distracted by snow flurries to do his business. At least Blake had gotten to his e-mails and written much of his blog post. The dry cleaning would have to wait until tomorrow morning. Blake pressed the call button for the elevator, and the doors opened immediately with a high-pitched ding! He pulled his gloves off, shoved them in his coat pockets, and stepped, alone, into the gilded elevator. He pressed the button for his floor, then reached into his suit for his iPhone. He would need to call Inez and warn her about the coffeemaker and the dog. He didn‟t want her to be surprised. Good maids were hard to come by, and old Latin women who knew their way around a house with cleaning supplies were to be treasured at almost any cost.
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As the elevator slowed, a twinge in Blake‟s neck made him cry out. A dull throb shot down his left arm, and his hand twitched. His phone clattered to the floor as the doors opened. “Fuck me!” Blake muttered. He winced, fought to keep from yelling, and picked up his phone. In the hallway, he gasped for air, then exhaled forcefully. “Goddamn
racquetball
game,”
Blake
mumbled,
thinking
of
the
twentysomething hunk he‟d played against a couple of days ago at the gym after work. Halfway through the game, Blake had begun to feel every second of his thirtynine years, but there was no way in hell he was going to show that to the blue-eyed, dark-haired cutie with the scruffy face and blinding white teeth. Not if he wanted to go to bed with him. They had been eyeing each other for over a month. Blake shook his head as if to work out the kink in his neck and stretched out his arm. He walked down the corridor to the office at the opposite end. There, he stopped just outside the double doors. The agency name was stenciled onto the glass, like someone‟s idea of a bad joke. BABY, JANE, AND HUDSON ADVERTISING. Blake smirked, dug into another suit pocket, and waved his badge in front of the sensor. The doors whooshed open, and as Blake stepped inside, an enormous sense of relief washed over him. This was his true home, the one place he felt completely comfortable and could be himself. Blake once again took a deep breath and exhaled smoothly, as if he were fresh and relaxed from a full night of restful sleep. The sluggishness he‟d felt early in the day was gone, and with it, the slight nagging at the back of his mind.
*** Blake had the Wall Street Journal spread out on his desk to the left of his computer. He leaned toward it as he typed on his keyboard. A Bluetooth earpiece
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flickered as Patty Baby waddled in. The aging lesbian fashionista—and founder of the agency—cleared her throat. Blake glanced at Patty, acknowledging her presence, and held up a finger. He finished typing while she waited, banged the Return button on the keyboard, and finished his conversation. “E-mail on its way. Research that link and get back to me by noon tomorrow. I wanna get moving on this account now that the two companies have merged. Got it? That‟s my boy!” Blake grinned and ended the call. He looked at the clock on his computer screen. “Three o‟clock? Fuuuuck! I‟ve gotta get out of here. I have to head to the gym for a quick workout before meeting Harte for dinner. You and Derrick are meeting us for drinks, right?” Derrick Jane was the other partner in the agency. Blake thought he looked like the lead singer for the B-52s. “Me? Oh no! This is your baby. But Derrick will be joining you. I‟m hosting the ADDY Awards, remember? Besides, I think Lewis will prefer getting cozy with you over dinner! An old Jewish lezzie like me? I‟d just get in the way of some good oldfashioned boy banging, and I wouldn‟t want to be accused of being a cock blocker!” Patty made a face and licked her upper lip lewdly. “That‟s right.” Blake laughed. “Just leave me to fend for myself with that old letch.” “Hey!” Patty stomped her foot and wagged her finger. “Harte‟s sixty! That‟s not old. And I wouldn‟t worry about you. I‟d be more concerned for him!” Patty giggled and patted his cheek. “You‟ll be great, handsome. Break a leg!” Patty turned to leave, then stopped. “You know? Rumor has it his screen name is Donkey Dick.” “What? How the hell do you know that?” Patty shrugged. “I‟m just sayin‟!” She winked and left in a hurry. Blake stood and followed her out of his office.
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Rosemary, his secretary, was on a call but smiled as he stopped before her. “How you doin‟, Roe?” Blake waited for her to finish. She clicked a button on the phone and pulled off her headset. “The day‟s been a blur, and I haven‟t had a chance to talk to you.” “That‟s okay. I know you‟re busy.” Rosemary spoke in an odd tone, as if she was mulling something over. “You all right?” Blake asked, curious. Rosemary chewed on her lower lip before nodding. “Anything I need to know about before I leave for the day?” “No, sir. Everything is good. The limo is waiting for you downstairs. I just got off the phone with the driver and told him you‟d be down within ten minutes.” “Thanks, Roe,” Blake said and rubbed his left arm. “Blake? Are you—” “Yes!” Blake snapped. “I‟m fine. I just overdid it at racquetball.” “Oh? Who were you trying to impress this time? Another hottie from the gym?” “You know way too much about my sex life,” Blake replied. “I just wanna see you settled down.” “So does Patty. Tell me, Rosemary. What exactly is it about people in relationships that they won‟t rest until everyone they know is shacking up with someone else?” Rosemary cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. In a softer tone, Blake continued, “How do you know this guy isn‟t the one?” “What‟s his name?” “What?” “In the year and a half that we‟ve worked together, you‟ve never once mentioned a guy‟s name. You‟ve talked about their eyes or their chest. You‟ve
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mentioned how big their dick is or how round and bubbly their ass is. You‟ve even talked about their legs but never a name was mentioned.” “Names are overrated.” “So what‟s his name?” Rosemary sat back in her chair, arms crossed, looking smug. Blake opened his mouth to speak. Stopped. “I‟ll have you know… He was stunning. Drop-dead gorgeous! Blue eyes, black hair. Shaggy, lean, scruffy. Big, sexy smile and wonderful lips.” “And probably hung like a horse.” “Well, yes. But that wasn‟t quite what I was after.” Blake grinned, shrugging away the pain. Rosemary rolled her eyes and stood as he chuckled and went back into his office. Rosemary followed. Blake stepped behind his desk, gathered his files, then stuffed them into his briefcase. “Will you do me a favor, Blake?” “What‟s that?” Blake snapped his briefcase shut. “After tonight, after you get the contract signed, will you promise to go on vacation? You‟ve been working ten- to twelve-hour days for over four months now. I think you need to relax a little.” “Thank you, doctor.” Blake half snorted, half chuckled, and shook his head. “I‟m serious!” Something in Rosemary‟s voice made him stop and take a good look at her. Dear, sweet, almost innocent Rosemary, with the somewhat-gaudy fashions that seemed to work for her. She was like a poor man‟s Carrie Bradshaw, only from Brooklyn and without the sophisticated girlfriends. “Blake. You‟ve been working very hard, and I know you don‟t stop when you get home. I just…don‟t wanna see anything happen to you. Okay?” Blake noted the quivering lower lip and tossed her a smile.
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“Listen, Rosemary. You‟re a sweet girl. You really are. I‟m not sure where this is coming from, but work is the only thing that keeps me going. It‟s all I have. Do you understand?” There was a heavy, silent moment, and then she nodded. “The driver will take you home and wait for you,” Rosemary said as she reached for his coat, which was draped over the arm of the leather sofa. “You‟ll pick up Mr. Harte at his hotel by six—and be prompt! Drinks at the Blue Lounge. Derrick will meet you there at six thirty.” She held the coat open and helped him with it. “Thanks, Roe. Quick workout, quick nap, and I‟ll be fresh as a daisy. Dinner at…?” “Eight. I made a reservation for two at the Four Seasons.” “Thank you, Rosemary.” Blake turned and smiled. “You‟re a doll. I hope your boy knows that.” Blake winked and darted out of the office.
*** His heart was thumping loudly when he stepped off the treadmill, and he was sweating profusely. A ringing echoed in his ears. I‟ll just give it a minute, Blake thought. There‟s nothing wrong here. He tried to calm himself, but the truth was that he was terrified. Oh my God! What if I die? Who will take care of Bosco? Blake stumbled to the watercooler, bumping blindly into one of the trainers, his vision blurring. “Hey! Why don‟tcha watch where you‟re go—Hey, buddy? Shit! Are you all right? Oh my God! Somebody call 911!” Blake didn‟t hear the rest. The thumping just grew louder and louder, until there was nothing in his head but the sound of his heart pumping. I can’t die! Not yet. Please, God. I have too much…
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But he couldn‟t think straight. He felt overheated and cold at the same time. He could barely breathe from the pressure that seemed to settle in his chest. He gasped from the harsh reality of what was happening as he collapsed to the ground. He tried to focus. Tried to stop it. He even managed a fist to try to hit himself in the chest, but he couldn‟t raise his arm. All he could do was lie there. Someone slapped his face a few times. His heartbeat was finally slowing down, though. Dull beat by dull beat echoed until they sounded normal. Good! Now I can get up and everything will be fine. I’ll go to my meeting, I’ll sign the contract, and then I’ll…I’ll… Fall in love! a voice said in his head. Fall in love? What the hell? Where did that come from? I’ll never fall in love again! Dionne Warwick popped up out of nowhere, singing. He imagined he saw her looking down at him. He reached out for her and felt another hand around his. He squeezed and thought she had awfully big hands. Rough. Calloused. Blake‟s heart kept slowing—at least, that was what it sounded like—and then it just stopped. There was no sound. Blake opened his eyes. Faces swam above him. Their lips moved, but there was no sound. What the hell is that light? Blake wondered. And why is it so damn bright? And then there was nothing but darkness.
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Chapter Two Strange voices rose and fell, echoing as if from a long distance. Or were they underwater? Something haunted him in the dark as he fought to come back. Images flashed before him, like so many pictures projected on a blank wall in an empty room. Running away… Living on the street… Meeting his first and only boyfriend, Bill. Fun at first, then abusive. Demeaning and humiliating like Blake‟s father had been. Why did I stay so long? Why didn’t Mom come with me? She couldn‟t have loved his father that much. Such a fuckin‟ waste of time living with his loser fuckup of a dad. The stupid things we do, just because we‟re afraid of being alone, Blake thought. The last fight. Packing, Bill behind him, and then that incredibly sharp pain. Out of breath, stunned. Had Bill really broken his ribs? Then there was the harsh, deafening sound of a smack resonating. Ringing. And a high-pitched whine. Blacking out. Am I dead? Blake was surprised he didn‟t feel sad about it. Except for Bosco. The chocolate Lab with his sad brown eyes and doggy smell, his dark brown coat, the soft pant, and the occasional whine when he wanted to be played with. And the serious case of happy tail. More money than I know what to do with. An apartment some people would kill for. And I’m sad for a dog. But no one had ever loved him the way Bosco did. Bosco was always happy to see him. No matter what, Bosco was always loyal, right by his side. People, on the
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other hand, said what they had to in order to get what they wanted. And then they changed their minds. No one ever stayed, and nothing good ever lasted. A tear trickled down his cheek and he realized, fuzzily, he was very much alive. He wasn‟t sure whether to laugh or cry. He became aware of something nearby, something mechanical, sucking air, then dropping. Whoooooosh, flap. Whoooooosh, flap. A ventilator? Soon after, he noticed a steady blip in the background. He followed the sounds—the respirator, the blip—and still groggy, Blake opened his eyes. He felt as if he‟d broken the surface of very deep and murky water. Patty, Derrick, and Rosemary loomed over him as they crowded one other to get a good look. The three of them burst into tears almost simultaneously. Blake would have laughed, only he lacked the energy. “Boh…Boh…?” Blake tried to talk, but his throat hurt. He needed water desperately. “It‟s okay, Blake. You‟re gonna be fine.” It was Patty. She ran a hand over his forehead. Derrick held one of his hands, Rosemary the other. “Wh-wh‟am I?” “Where are you?” Patty asked. Blake nodded. “You‟re in the hospital,” she replied, then addressed Derrick and Rosemary. “Maybe I should get the nurse? Let them know Blake‟s awake?” “Yes,” they blurted simultaneously. “Okay, but make yourselves scarce.” Patty looked down at Blake. “We‟re not all supposed to be in here. Only one at a time. You‟re still in ICU. We sneaked in when they weren‟t looking.” Patty left, her heels clopping purposefully. Derrick put a hand on Blake‟s chest. Blake shot him a weak smile. “How‟s it going, champ?” Derrick seemed uncomfortable. Blake tried to shrug and shake his head.
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“Boh…both…?” Blake started again, frustrated that he was unable to get the words out. “Wh-wh‟appened—” Derrick smiled a bit too eagerly. “Don‟t worry, buddy. The account is yours. Harte heard what happened and was so mortified, he signed the contract this morning! What a way to close an account, champ!” Damn it! Can’t they understand I want to know about Bosco? Then, because there was nothing else he could do, nothing else he cared about, Blake closed his eyes. A cell phone went off, and Blake opened them again. “I‟d better take this,” Derrick said and waved the phone. “It‟s Harte! Probably wants to know how you are.” Blake and Rosemary watched Derrick leave, and then she moved closer. Her eyes were red and brimming with tears as she squeezed his hand. “You gave us quite a scare, Blake,” Rosemary said softly, her voice lilting and soothing. “Whappened?” “What happened?” Blake nodded. “You had a heart attack.” Rosemary caressed his cheek. “But you‟re fine now. They‟ve been taking very good care of you, and we‟re going to do whatever it takes to get you back on your feet as soon as possible.” “Bo…both…?” “Bosco?” Blake sighed with relief, grateful someone finally understood. “Don‟t you worry about Bosco. Patty and I are taking turns staying at your place so he‟s not alone at night. He‟s so sweet. Just like you!”
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Blake squeezed Rosemary‟s hand and closed his eyes. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He hoped she could feel his gratitude. He was slipping again, but he thought he felt someone kiss him on the forehead.
*** “How soon can I get back to work, Doctor Mellon? I wanna get out of here.” It was a day later, and Blake was already tired of the clear-liquid diet and being awakened every few hours to be poked, prodded, and monitored. “Mr. Hudson,” the tall, dark-haired doctor started in a deep voice. Not a bad-looking man. I wonder if he has someone to take care of him. “You‟ve just had a heart attack. There are tests we still need to run before we can release you. With any luck, you‟ll be out of here in a couple of days. As for work, it might be a few weeks.” “A few weeks?” “That‟s right,” the doctor replied. He continued talking, but Blake had stopped listening. He was distracted by the commotion in the corridor. Across the hall, a man in his early thirties had walked into a room and was quite vocal, obviously excited to see his partner. Blake heard them kiss, the tone in their voices—happy with each other—and felt something he hadn‟t experienced in a long while. And he realized then that no amount of money, work, or fancy gadgets could ever take that emotion away. Nothing could ever erase the loneliness or sadness that had plagued him over the last few days. “Mr. Hudson? Are you listening to me?” Blake looked up at the doctor, tears welling. He opened his mouth, croaked, then started again once he was confident he wasn‟t going to cry. “I‟m…alone, Doc. I have no one. Just…Bosco.” “Bosco?”
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“My dog,” Blake replied and felt betrayed when the stream of tears came. He tried to tell himself to stop, that there was no reason to cry. He was a man, damn it! And he was alive. What did he have to cry about? But the tears only flowed more steadily. “I‟m sorry, Doc,” Blake said between silent sobs. A feeling of desperation welled inside his chest. “I…I feel so…so fucking sad, you know? I don‟t ununderstand. I take…I take care of myself. I watch what I eat. I run every morning. I go to the gym. I… Why me?” “Well, Mr. Hudson. It could be any number of reasons. Our bodies change as we get older. They handle things differently. Cholesterol, for example. It could be genetics. Spastic arteries. Atherosclerosis.” “I…I keep seeing it.” Blake gasped, trying to regain his composure. He hated being seen like this, exposing himself as weak, but at least neither of his business partners was there to bear witness. “I keep having nightmares about the…you know…about that night. And it scares me.” “You‟ve just had a life-altering experience,” the doctor said, his voice calm and smooth. “What you‟re feeling is not unusual.” “What if I have another one? What if I can never work out again?” “I‟m not going to lie to you, Mr. Hudson. The chance for another heart attack is always going to be there. That‟s why we need to run a few more tests. Once we get the results, we‟ll know what we‟re up against, and we can work out a recovery plan. And don‟t worry. We‟ll get through this. With some focused effort and medication, there‟s no reason why you couldn‟t go back to living a normal, healthy life.” The doctor made notes in his chart, apparently concluding their talk even though Blake still had questions. “Your anxiety is perfectly normal, and everyone who‟s had an attack goes through similar symptoms.”
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Yeah, but I’m the one going through it right now!
*** Blake was happy to be home. Happier still was Bosco. The Lab went into his happy dance: a bark and a spin followed by some light scampering. A quick nudge with his muzzle and it started all over again. Inez, with bottle of disinfectant in one hand and oversize sponge in the other, gave a cry of surprise from the open kitchen. She put the items down and ran to hug Blake as he stepped carefully out of the private elevator that opened into the small foyer. “Señor Hudson!” Her cleaning gloves were on, and she sounded almost as delighted as Bosco. “Hello, Inez.” Blake took another cautious step forward with the walker, glad for the rubber tips to keep him from slipping on the slick floor. Behind him, Rosemary carried the shoulder bag stuffed with his clothes and medications. “Want me to take your coat?” Rosemary asked. “No. I‟m feeling a bit chilled,” Blake muttered. He gradually made his way into the expansive living room. Bosco ran away and disappeared. “I am happy to see you home!” Inez exclaimed in broken English, standing by his side as he eased into an oversize reading chair, with his coat still on. Inez took the walker, folded it, and propped it up within reach. “It‟s good to be back. Maybe now I‟ll get some rest!” “Yes! Sleep. Hospital no place for rest.” “You‟re not kidding!” “Can you eat real food now?” Inez asked while Rosemary put the shoulder bag on the counter that led into the kitchen, took out the medications, and lined them up.
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“Yes, I can,” Blake replied, glad he had been cleared to eat solids again. The soft, mushy foods had made him feel old and useless. He longed for a thick, wellseasoned filet mignon. “I have good fish in fridge for you. Vegetables. Very good for heart. You hungry?” “Thanks, Inez, but…not now. I‟m feeling out of sorts.” It was odd to have someone he barely knew be so kind to him, so helpful. Even after two years of having her come to his place twice a week, there was a line he wouldn‟t cross, disoriented or not. Bosco came bounding back toward him with a fuzzy green tennis ball in his mouth. Blake was grateful for the distraction. Anything to keep from thinking about that night and wondering if it was going to happen again, scared that next time, he might be alone and die with no one to even notice he had ever been there. “I missed you, boy!” Blake held Bosco‟s large head and kissed him on the nose. Blake scratched the dog‟s floppy ears, took the ball from him, and flung it as far away as he could. “Ayy! Señor Hudson!” Inez cried. “What?” Blake looked over his shoulder as Bosco ran off and chased after the ball. “You sure you should be doing that?” Rosemary asked. “Please, Roe. I was throwing a ball. I‟m not an invalid.” “But, Señor—” Inez started. “I‟m fine!” Blake hollered, suddenly irritable. Bosco stopped in his tracks and skidded. The ball fell from his mouth. “Well, I see someone’s in a grumpy mood!” Rosemary said with fake cheer. “C‟mere, Bosco! Time for your walk.” Rosemary collared him and headed for the elevator.
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“I leave now, too,” Inez said, putting on her coat. “Good night, Señor Hudson. See you in three days?” “Yeah. Sure,” Blake mumbled. He‟d almost said whatever. “I‟ll be back to give you your meds when Bosco‟s done, and put you to bed.” “I can take them myself, you know!” Blake called after her. He watched the door close, then listened as the hum faded and the elevator descended. What the hell is wrong with me? Just a minute ago I was happy to be home! But now that he‟d been released from the hospital the quiet apartment bothered him. He kept reliving the heart attack, seeing it in his mind and the loneliness made him feel uncertain and vulnerable. The silence in the apartment poignantly reminded him that he was alone. Patty, Inez, and Rosemary could all take turns staying with him but late at night, when he was by himself in his large bed, there would be no one to hold him and assure him that everything would turn out all right. Blake stood slowly. He pulled off his coat and threw it across the back of the chair. He then unwrapped his scarf and tossed it on top of the coat. He turned, looked at the meds on the counter, and mentally measured the distance. He glanced at the walker and grunted. Fuck it! Blake took an unsteady step and was overcome with a bout of dizziness that almost weakened him. No! You will not defeat me. I am stronger than this. Blake held his arms out to balance himself and took another step toward the kitchen. He made his way to the black-marble counter at a much slower pace than he cared for, but he got there on his own. And that was what counted. Blake reached out almost defiantly and held on. Once steadied, Blake picked up the bottle and struggled with the cap before finally removing it. He stepped into
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the kitchen and opened a cupboard. He pulled out a glass, filled it with water from the fridge, then popped the pill into his mouth and swallowed. Standing still in the silence of his kitchen, he didn‟t know how long he had been there, only that it seemed like hours before the elevator door opened again and Rosemary appeared with Bosco by her side. “I‟m going to bed. I need a nap,” Blake muttered and headed for the bedroom. Bosco walked slowly beside him. “Want me to stay in case you need anything?” “No,” Blake replied without looking back. “Will you at least use your walker?” “No!” Blake shouted and kept going. He ignored the huff and the click of the tongue. A moment later, Rosemary was gone. Somehow Blake made his way to the bed. He was quite dizzy and more disoriented than before, but grateful he‟d accomplished what he had. He sighed heavily, rolled onto his side, and held Bosco close as the dog licked his face.
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Chapter Three “What the hell is this?” Blake exclaimed as he pushed back from his desk. It was just after eight in the morning, and he was still in his sweats. Normally he‟d be at the office by now. Instead Blake looked up at Derrick and Patty‟s stern faces. Roe had already left to walk Bosco. “This,” Patty explained as she uncrossed her arms from her ample bosom, “is an intervention.” She reached out and snatched Blake‟s laptop. “What?” Blake laughed and stood. “An intervention? What the hell are you talking about?” He reached for the computer, but Patty‟s short arms were faster. She held the laptop up in the air a moment. “We know you‟ve been accessing your e-mail.” Patty passed the laptop off to Derrick. “So?” “Placing calls to creative. And legal.” Derrick took a step back and slipped the slim silver computer into his briefcase. “So what? Since when is that a crime?” Blake sat back down, feeling defensive. “It‟s not a crime.” Derrick walked back to Blake‟s desk and sat with one leg on the edge. “We‟re just…concerned for you. Okay?” “So you decided to show your concern by spying on me?” “We’re not spying on you,” Patty said. “Our IT gal is. At our request. And do you know why?” “No, but I‟ve a feeling you‟re about to tell me,” Blake snipped. Patty walked to his other side and sat the way Derrick had. Blake felt like he‟d been bookended.
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“C‟mon, guys. This is a joke, right?” Blake glanced from one to the other, somewhat stunned and surprised. “No, Blake. It isn‟t.” Patty leaned forward and put a hand on his shoulder. “You have got to relax. Ignore work for…a short while, like the doctor said.” “You walk into my house and tell me what to do? Who put you up to this? Inez? That woman is always trying to overstep her duties and mother me.” “No. It wasn‟t Inez.” “Then who? Roe? Dr. Mellon?” Derrick laughed. “No one‟s put us up to it, Blake. It‟s just that we don‟t want you to exert yourself. It‟s only been a couple of weeks, and we want to make sure you give yourself enough time to recu—” “Damn it, Derrick! The doctor‟s already given me the green light! Physical activity is fine! And I hardly think that a few calls and answering e-mails are—” “He said nothing about going back to work.” Patty‟s voice overrode his. She pursed her lips. “Do you know the amount of stress even one little e-mail can cause?” “C‟mon, Patty,” Blake started, but she didn‟t let him finish. “I‟m going to be blunt. No one would rather have you back at the office than me. I like my personal time and I‟ve had to take on some of your workload. You can just imagine how my girlfriend likes that! So has Derrick‟s taken on some of your work as well and that still leaves a hell of a lot undone. Which is why we‟re working with Rosemary.” “Rosemary?” “She‟s actually a quick study,” Derrick interjected. Blake couldn‟t help but feel slighted by the comment. Once upon a time he‟d been the quick study. “Blake,” Patty continued, “we all know you‟ve got a lot of work on your plate. Especially with the new account…” “Then let me—”
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“However!” Patty raised her voice and spoke in a tone that reminded Blake she could be a bulldog when she wanted or needed to be. He‟d seen that side of her too many times—usually directed at others—to protest any further. “I—we—want you well. Do you understand? I am not going to be happy if I get the call that one of my business associates dropped dead from another heart attack because he was stressing out over some detail he couldn‟t take care of since he wasn‟t at the office.” Blake opened his mouth, but Patty held her hand up. “I love you, Blake. I really do. So does Derrick.” Derrick nodded on cue and added, “It‟s for your own good, buddy.” Blake looked at Derrick, then at Patty. He recognized a wall when he saw one, so he threw up his hands and exhaled sharply. “Okay. Fine. You win.” Blake shrugged and lowered his head. Derrick cleared his throat. Blake looked up in time to see him and Patty exchange glances. “There‟s more, isn‟t there?” Blake shook his head, feeling exasperated. “Blake, honey,” Patty said a bit more softly. “We want you to go away.” “Go away?” “A little vacation,” Derrick added with a wave of his hand, then reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a set of keys while Patty moved away from the desk. She rummaged through her stuffed, oversize shoulder bag. “What‟s that?” Blake nodded toward the key ring Derrick dangled before him. “These are the keys to my house.” “I don‟t understand. You want me to leave the comfort of my apartment and stay with you?” “No. These are the keys to my house in Fort Lauderdale.” “Fort Lauderdale?” Blake snorted in disbelief. “Isn‟t that where old people go and die?”
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Derrick burst out laughing. “You remember that movie with Connie Francis? Where the Boys Are?” “Yeah,” Blake replied suspiciously. “Let me put it to you this way,” Derrick said breathily. “Fort Lauderdale‟s become like…the…gay mecca. There are boys quite literally everywhere! Tall ones, short ones. White boys, black boys, twinks, muscle studs—” “I get the picture!” Blake snapped. “But why should I care about some…some piece of meat I could just as easily pick up here? And how is that—” “This isn‟t about picking anybody up!” Patty hollered and punched Derrick. “Ow!” Derrick exclaimed and rubbed his arm. “What the hell is wrong with you men? Is sex the only thing you ever think about? God gave you a brain so you wouldn‟t have to think with your dick!” Patty harrumphed and glared at Derrick, then at Blake. “So you expect me not to work, but you want me to fly down to Fort Lauderdale?” “You‟re not flying,” Patty explained, slapping what looked like a folded contract on Blake‟s desk, along with a car key. “We got a rental. We‟re driving.” “We?” “Yeah! That‟s the beauty of it!” Derrick grinned, still rubbing his arm. He looked like he could barely contain himself. “I know this is going to be hard for you, but don‟t worry about the details. We‟ve got you covered. All you have to do is pack your bags,” said Patty. “I can‟t do that. I can‟t leave Bosco.” At that moment, Bosco came padding up alongside him. The dog sat on his haunches and put his muzzle on Blake‟s lap. Out of habit, Blake placed a hand on the dog‟s head. He looked past Derrick and Patty in time to see Rosemary.
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“You snitched, didn‟t you?” Blake asked in an accusing tone. She glanced at him, then bowed her head. She appeared quite suddenly fascinated with something on the floor. “I‟m not going anywhere,” Blake said finally. Patty glared at him. The look made Blake feel as though he was pushing her limits. He cleared his throat. “Not without Bosco.” “You won‟t have to,” said Derrick. “You‟re taking him with you. Patty‟s got reservations at a pet-friendly hotel so we don‟t have to drive all night. We can take our time getting there.” “But”—Blake blinked at a grinning Derrick—“I can‟t do this to Inez. She needs the money.” “Will you please stop?” Patty rolled her eyes, exasperated. “You don‟t think we didn‟t take her into consideration, do you? We‟ve got her covered as well. Besides, she‟s been wanting to go back to Costa Rica for a few weeks now. Her mom‟s sick.” “Inez still has a mother?” Blake furrowed his brow. How do you seem to know so much about her?” “It might surprise you to know that when someone you love and care about is sick, those that work together to nurse him back to health grow close. If you opened up even just a little you might find out a thing or two. Now stop putting up excuses. You‟re going to Fort Lauderdale whether you like it or not. Baby, Jane, and Hudson will still be there when you get back,” Patty said with finality. “What do you have to say about this?” Blake asked Rosemary. She swallowed nervously. “It‟s okay. I can take it. I‟m a big boy. And I assure you, my heart won‟t give out,” Blake said with sarcasm. “Contrary to popular belief.” “I‟m sorry, Blake. But I agree with Patty and Derrick. You do need a vacation. I told you just before… Anyway, this is as good a time as any, don‟tcha think?” “We leave tomorrow,” Patty said curtly. “Bright and early.” She stepped away and reached for her bag. Derrick picked up her cue and picked up his briefcase.
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“So that‟s it, then. It‟s all decided?” Blake stood. “What am I going to do in Fort Lauderdale? I don‟t know anybody there. Hell, I‟ve never even been there! What am I supposed to do? Just sit in the sun all day long and roast my ass off?” “You‟re going to relax.” Patty approached with a smile and a twinkle in her eye. “A month of sea and sunshine and you‟ll be good as new,” Derrick said from the doorway. “Who knows? Maybe you‟ll even meet someone!” Rosemary commented hopefully. “Fat chance.” Blake sat back down. “C‟mon, Blake,” Rosemary protested. “Think about it. Maybe this was a sign, ya know? Like the universe trying to tell you to open your heart up and let someone in?” Blake shot her a look. “Don‟t give me your New Age psychobabble. That is one thing I‟m not in the mood for.” “Enough!” Patty barked. “You guys go on ahead. Wait for me in the lobby.” Patty waited for them to leave then turned and put a fist on her hip. “Now you listen to me,” Patty scolded, shaking a finger impatiently. “I don‟t like pulling rank on you, but if it‟s what I have to do, then so be it. You‟re going to Fort Lauderdale. Period. Four weeks is not that long. We have a list of the top cardiologists in each of the cities where we‟ll be stopping. And if I hear one more complaint out of you, Derrick and I will strip you of your partnership faster than you can say, „Thank you, ma‟am, may I have another‟!” “What?” Blake whispered. “You…you wouldn‟t do that.” “Try me.” Patty blinked. Blake and Patty remained silent, looking into each other‟s eyes. Finally Blake caved; Patty never made idle threats. He‟d seen her in action. Blake sighed. “Patty, you don‟t understand.”
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“What don‟t I understand?” His voice was low and husky when he spoke. “It‟s…the only thing I have.” Patty stepped toward him and took his hand. “Blake, honey? There‟s a hell of a lot more to life than work. Whatever it is you‟re running from won‟t go away until you look it straight in the eye and deal with it. And don‟t think I don‟t understand your fear. I know it‟s there. I can see it in your eyes. But you can‟t let this beat you. I won‟t let you do that to yourself.” Patty started to walk out of Blake‟s home office. “What about my laptop?” Patty stopped and turned back to Blake. “You‟ll get it back in the morning.” “What will I do until then?” “You‟ve heard of books, haven‟t you? Pick one up!” Patty made a face, the one that told Blake she was thinking. “Wait.” She rummaged through her purse, then walked toward him. “Here. Try this,” she said as she held out her e-book reader. “I‟m sure you‟ll find something worth reading in there.”
*** It had been gray, bitterly cold, and blustery when they left New York that February morning. Blake had found it interesting to see the changes in temperature and scenery as Patty and Derrick took turns driving south. But to be able to walk out of the car in shorts and feel the warm sun on his skin had been, for lack of a better word, luscious. Yes, definitely luscious, Blake thought as he stretched and rolled over in bed. They had arrived at Derrick‟s house at night, a few days after leaving Manhattan, welcomed by air that was sweet with the scent of blooming citrus. And now, the morning after their arrival, his eyes almost hurting from a sky so brilliant and blue, Blake looked forward to exploring the three-story house in the Rio Vista section of Lauderdale.
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The house was on a deep-water canal and had an elevator, entertainment room, and a yacht that had not seen the ocean since Derrick had bought the house nearly two years ago. A loud, frantic whimper from outside suddenly caught Blake‟s attention. Bosco! Blake ran to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the water. Below, the chocolate Lab paced nervously near the edge of the patio, alarmingly close to the seawall. “Whassamatter boy?” Blake heard Derrick from below. “Don‟t know what that is, do ya?” Blake forced himself to relax, then turned and walked out of the room, wearing a pair of red silk boxers. Outside his room there was a landing that ran the entire length of the house. Three bedrooms lined the front, and on the other side of the railing the ceiling was vaulted. There were windows everywhere. Enormous amounts of sunshine filled every nook and cranny. Just beyond the windows, moored to the seawall, sat the unused yacht. It was almost as tall as the house itself. Jesus Christ! I could get used to this, Blake mused, momentarily distracted. He‟d always known Derrick had money, but surely this was a joke. It made Blake‟s apartment look like a slum. Instead of taking the elevator, Blake chose to descend the circular staircase. The second floor was tiered and came out a little farther than the top floor. Here were additional bedrooms where Derrick slept, the sauna, and a workout-andmassage room. On the first floor was an open den. The kitchen and eat-in dining area were to the right, and to the left was a laundry room and a passageway that led to the garage.
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Blake walked through the exposed den to the opposite side. He slid the patio doors open and stepped out. “Good morning!” Derrick exclaimed. He held a margarita glass filled with something bright and slushy. Bosco came bounding toward Blake. The dog stood on his hind legs and licked Blake‟s face. “How did you sleep?” Derrick asked. “Surprisingly well,” Blake admitted. “It‟s so…quiet here at night.” “Yeah. It is.” Derrick smiled. “Isn‟t it nice? Pleasant change from New York, I think. When I retire, this is where I‟ll be, if you ever want to look me up.” “I can see why.” “I think Bosco likes it here,” Derrick commented. “What‟s not to like? Open space, sunshine, new things to—What the…?” “What? What is it? What‟s wrong?” Derrick stood from the chaise where he had been lounging. Blake walked away from him, toward the edge of the patio where Bosco had gone back to sniffing and pacing. Blake pointed to something sunning itself on the concrete seawall. “What…the fuck…is that thing?” “Jesus, Blake! You scared the shit outta me! Haven‟t you ever seen an iguana before?” “Not in person. I‟m a city boy, Derrick. I‟m familiar with subway rats and the homeless.” “Well, the iguanas sun themselves out here,” Derrick explained. He thought a moment. “So do the homeless, but you won‟t see them in Rio Vista.”
Bosco barked at the thing and ran to hide behind Blake. Derrick laughed. “What a pussy! I hope you weren‟t planning on having him defend you anytime soon.”
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Blake grabbed Bosco‟s collar and pulled him toward one of the chaises. Blake lay down and languished in the early-morning sunshine. “So!” Derrick clapped his hands and rubbed them together excitedly. “I only have today to show you around town, since I fly out first thing in the morning. I took the liberty of making a fresh fruit salad. It‟s on ice in the kitchen. This afternoon we can drive down to the beach, and then I‟ll show you some hot spots.” “Why don‟t we just head out right after breakfast?” “Because we, my friend, are getting a massage.” “You booked a massage for me? Derrick, that‟s—” “Uh, actually, no. Sorry,” Derrick said apologetically. “I was using the royal „we.‟” “Oh.” Blake jerked his head back, surprised. “Okay.” “Sorry, buddy. Besides, can you even get one? I mean, what with your ticker and all.” “I don‟t know. I never thought to ask.” “Maybe you should call the doctor and find out.” At that moment, the doorbell chimed rich and deep. “Damn it! He‟s early. Say, would you mind opening the door and letting him in?” Derrick asked as he stepped into the house. “I wanna jump in the shower and clean up before he slathers me with hot oil and rubs his hands all over my body! He‟s supposed to be quite yummy!” “Who is?” Blake followed Derrick. “Just let him in and take him to the massage room.” Derrick raced up the circular staircase. As Derrick disappeared, Blake walked toward the front of the house. He struggled with the wide double doors; in Florida, they opened out for further protection from hurricanes.
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Blake‟s breath caught in his throat at the sight of the tanned, dark-haired young man who turned around to greet him. “Derrick Jane?” A broad grin spread on the handsome face, exposing white, even teeth. Blake was vaguely aware of a discreet glance, and it was only then that he remembered he was wearing only boxers. Normally he would have gone and put pants on, but the thrill of being seen in his underwear gave him an unexpected rush. “Smoldering,” Blake mumbled. He looked into the young man‟s dark brown, deep-set eyes, and his breath caught. “Beg your pardon?” He spoke with just a touch of an accent. Blake shook his head. “No. Nothing. Sorry. I mean, I‟m not Derrick. I‟m Blake. Blake Hudson.” He extended his hand, and the young man clasped it, his grip strong and tight and warm. “Ricky. I mean, Rick. Sanchez. Like the news guy. Only not that much of a dick.” “What?” Blake was uncertain what he meant, but it didn‟t matter. His hand tingled as their palms touched, and his flesh broke into goose bumps. Heat rose within him. He could feel his neck and cheeks burn as unexpected images flickered through his mind like a slideshow presentation on fast-forward: him and Ricky together in bed, sheets tangled about them, limbs locked; in a park, laughing, tossing a Frisbee back and forth as Bosco tried to catch it; on the yacht amid bluegreen water that sparkled as if crystals floated on the surface; the two of them touching, kissing deep and long and hard. Blake pulled away, wondering what had just happened. It almost felt as if he‟d had a vision. “Wow! Did you feel that?” Ricky‟s eyes never wavered. “You gave me a shock.”
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Chapter Four It was only after he stepped aside and let Ricky in, holding his bag of oils, that Blake thought he should go back upstairs and put some pants on or perhaps an oversize T-shirt. But it certainly looked as if Ricky didn‟t mind. While Blake pulled the front door closed, Bosco rammed his nose into Ricky‟s crotch and sniffed and snorted. “Bosco, no!” Blake reached for the dog‟s collar and pulled him away—though he had to admit, he couldn‟t blame him. He would have liked to have done the same. Oh, to be a fucking dog! “Sorry,” Blake offered in apology but couldn‟t stifle a grin. “He‟s never done that. Usually he just sniffs ass.” “It‟s okay.” Ricky laughed. “I‟m used to it. A lot of my clients have big ones. Dogs, that is.” Blake drank in the sight of the Latin man standing before him. He had naturally tanned skin like caramel, and jet-black hair cropped high and tight. He was dressed in a short-sleeved polo shirt in hunter green that clung to every part of his torso. Blake noted the rounded shoulders, the defined arms, the chiseled chest. The material of his white jean shorts stretched and clung to perfectly sculpted legs. Blake couldn‟t help imagining those legs thrown over his shoulders, those ankles around his neck. Blake‟s cock stirred for the first time in nearly two weeks. Jesus, fuck. Not now! “Nice boxers,” Ricky muttered, then cleared his throat.
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“Sorry, man.” Blake covered himself as he flushed. “It‟s…ah… I…just woke up a few minutes ago. You know how that is.” “Yeah.” Ricky grinned slowly. “I do.” Blake noted the young man‟s appreciative eyes on his body, the way Ricky scanned him openly, boldly. The tip of Ricky‟s tongue slithered out, enticing, as he licked his thick lower lip, then gently bit it. “It‟s okay, man,” Ricky said in a soothing tone. Blake swallowed, nervous and awkward. “So, are you guys lovers?” “Wh-what?” Blake spluttered. “Who? Me and Derrick? Oh no. Noooo. We‟re not lovers. We‟re partners.” Blake thought he saw a look of disappointment on Ricky‟s face. The young man arched an eyebrow, and the grin disappeared. Then Blake realized what he had said and how it must have sounded. “No, no! Not like that. We‟re business partners.” The glimmer of a smile once again appeared. “Derrick‟s a nice guy, but he‟s totally not my type.” “Oh yeah? What is your type?” “You,” Blake replied, his voice soft and low. He‟d meant to say guys like you, but apparently his mind had other thoughts. Blake‟s heart was racing. It seemed to him they were standing too close. He could feel Ricky‟s body heat. Blake glanced down and thought he noticed Ricky‟s bulge grow larger. He was pretty sure it hadn‟t been that obvious before. He resisted the urge to reach out and cup it. “Me, huh?” Ricky grinned sensually. He took a step closer. “That‟s good to know. Very good to know indeed!” Dear God! This is insane. What’s he doing to me? Blake had never been one to shy away from a man coming on to him, but usually he was the one doing the pursuing. And this one was much younger. Ricky
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was all of… What? Ten? Fifteen years younger? Yet so incredibly confident. So cocky and self-assured. So fucking hot. And the reaction his body was having! He was almost fully hard. His blood raced, and his heart thumped almost as loudly as when he‟d had the heart attack. He could feel it hammering away. Blake gulped. “Uh, maybe…maybe I should just show you to the massage room?” Blake took a step back, suddenly scared and unsure. “There‟s a table already set up in there.” “Oh. Uh, okay. Sure,” Ricky replied. Blake heard disappointment in the young man‟s voice and wanted to explain that nothing would give him greater pleasure, that it was the first time he‟d been aroused and wanted to have sex since the heart attack, but this was a total stranger. Yet he felt so comfortable with Ricky. They were quiet as they made their way up the stairs. Bosco stayed below. Blake already knew from the night before that no amount of cajoling would get him up. Bosco didn‟t like the open risers. Blake imagined he could feel Ricky‟s eyes boring into him. Secretly, he hoped his ass looked as good in boxers as he knew it did in briefs. “Nice view,” Ricky said admiringly as they stepped onto the second floor. “Thanks,” Blake said, blushing once more. That was something else; he hardly ever reddened over a compliment. Then he turned and noticed Ricky looking out over the railing toward the yacht. Blake‟s heart sank with disappointment. “I think I‟ll just…head on up to my room,” Blake said after clearing his throat. Ricky turned to him. “That is, provided you don‟t need anything else,” Blake added. He gulped and hoped it wasn‟t visible.
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“Uh,” Ricky started. He looked as if he might say something smart, witty, or flirty but then changed his mind. “I‟m okay,” Ricky said quietly. “I‟ve got everything I need in my bag. Thanks.” Blake nodded and moved away slowly. “Hey, uh, Blake?” “Yeah?” Blake stopped.
What the hell is wrong with me? Why did I stop him from flirting and coming on to me? He tried to tell himself it was the age difference. “Maybe I‟ll…” Ricky paused for a long, uncomfortable moment—long enough to make him want to go up to Ricky and kiss the words out of his mouth. Blake‟s breath caught. “See you around?” Ricky gave a weak grin. Blake smiled and nodded. He was disappointed with his inability to make a move, but his chest expanded as a warm rush of promise filled his heart.
*** Blake went into his room, closed the door, then leaned against it. He exhaled sharply. There was only one reason he could think of for why he had stopped the banter. Certainly the age difference was something to consider, but it had never stopped him before. Chickenshit! a voice taunted. Blake picked up his iPhone and scrolled for his doctor‟s number in New York. He dialed, unable to believe that of the seemingly hundreds of questions he‟d asked, there was one crucial question he‟d forgotten. “Dr. Mellon‟s office,” a pleasant female voice answered. “Uh, yes, hi.” Blake spoke softly, afraid of being overheard. “My name is Blake Hudson, and I‟m a cli—I mean, a patient of Dr. Mellon‟s.”
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“I‟m sorry, sir. Can you please speak up?” Shit! Why the hell am I whispering? It’s not like they can possibly hear me in this big house! Blake spoke more loudly and asked to speak to the doctor. “I‟m sorry, sir. Dr. Mellon is in surgery today. I can take a message for him if you like. He‟ll be calling in for his messages later this afternoon.” Blake wondered how it would sound to her and he suddenly felt self-conscious. But surely this wasn‟t the first time the question had come up. “Can you please ask him if I can…uh…if I can have sex? Er, with someone else, I mean.” The woman was silent. Blake imagined her putting the phone on mute and bursting into laughter, perhaps sharing it with the others in the office, the nurses. Blake‟s throat felt dry. He was about to hang up, when the woman spoke again. “Your phone number, please?” Blake sighed, realizing he had been holding his breath. He gave her his number. “Are there…any other cardiologists there who can answer my question?” “I‟ll run it past her and have someone call you.” Blake thanked her and hung up.
*** Time definitely passes much more slowly here than in New York, Blake thought impatiently. An hour and a half had felt like an entire day. Blake shifted for the millionth time, striking what he hoped was a sexy and seductive yet casual pose on the chaise, just in case Ricky walked out onto patio after the massage. Bosco had curled up at his feet, and the bowl Blake had filled with fruit earlier sat empty on a glass table beside him. But Derrick walked out alone, wrapped in a white towel.
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“Hello,” Blake said, trying to sound nonchalant. “Mmm. Hello, yourself.” Derrick rolled his head and shrugged, grinning. “I take it the massage was good?” “Oh my God. Probably the best I‟ve ever had.” Derrick pouted. “No happy ending, though.” “Happy ending?” “Yeah. You know.” Derrick crudely pretended to jerk off. Secretly, Blake was glad Ricky wasn‟t that kind of masseuse. “Still,” Derrick continued, “I suppose it‟s more about the therapeutic value than getting off. Right? But it‟s so intimate, and I get so damn horny when a hot guy like Ricky plays with my body.” Derrick trembled, then sighed. “Say, did you call the doctor? Do you know if you can get a massage?” “How the hell should I know?” Blake snapped irritably. “I‟m not even sure if I can have sex!” Then he looked up at Derrick, who grinned lasciviously. Blake cleared his throat. “Oh!” Derrick teased. “I see. You liked Ricky, didn‟t you?” “No!” Blake replied, sounding much more emphatic than he needed to. “It‟s just, you know, in case I hit a bar or something.” “Yeah, right.” Derrick put his hands on his hips, then made his way to the chaise beside Blake‟s. “So where is Ricky, anyway?” “He‟s gone. Had to go to school.” Derrick sat and leaned back. “School?” “Yeah. He‟s finishing up his bachelor‟s in marketing.” “Marketing? But that‟s great! When he‟s done, maybe we can offer him a position.” “Two steps ahead of you, buddy. I already hinted at it, but either he doesn‟t get subtlety or he‟s not interested.”
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“Oh,” Blake muttered, unable to hide his disappointment. “But he asked about you,” Derrick teased. “Oh?” Blake couldn‟t resist breaking out into a smile. “Yeah. He wanted to know if you were single.” “Really? Did he ask anything else?” “He wanted to know if you were a nice guy.” “And?” The smile turned into a grin. “What did you tell him?” Derrick arched his eyebrows and took a deep breath, as if for dramatic effect. He then glanced at Blake with an apologetic look. “I told him you were a prick, had been married twice, and had a brood of kids back in New York.” Derrick said, deadpan, then burst into laughter. “You asshole!” “I gave him your number. He sounded pretty eager. Don‟t disappoint him! Now c‟mon!” Derrick jumped out of his chaise and rubbed his hands together. “I have a city full of hot men to show you and only a few hours to do it!”
*** Blake was ecstatic. For the first time since the heart attack, he was thrilled to be alive. In fact, that horrible night and his stay at the hospital felt so far removed from where he was that it almost felt as if they might never have happened. The air smelled different in Fort Lauderdale, the people more joyous and carefree. Blake‟s flesh seemed to pick up on every breeze, every admiring gaze. It reminded him that he was alive and raring to go. The doctor had called back sooner than expected and given Blake the green light. And now he and Derrick sat at Rosie‟s. Derrick was enjoying his VooDoo Bucket—a mixed drink with nearly half a dozen types of alcohol—while Blake sipped red wine.
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“So what do you think?” Derrick asked Blake above the loud, upbeat dance music. “What do I think about what?” Blake asked, admiring the small of the busboy‟s back as his black T-shirt rode up when he leaned over to place their orders before them. “About Fort Lauderdale.” Derrick picked up his burger and sank his teeth into it. He chewed, swallowed, then spoke again. “Isn‟t it fun?” After leaving Derrick‟s, before coming to Rosie‟s, they‟d driven up and down A1A, a road parallel to the beach, from which they could see the surf in the rented convertible. Blake had never seen a more beautiful beach, but he preferred the quiet tranquility of Derrick‟s house on the wide, deep canal. They‟d then driven west on Las Olas Boulevard, backtracked to go north on US 1, then south again on the bustling, teeming Wilton Drive at dusk. It wasn‟t the chic vibe from the Village, the funky energy of Union Square, or even the hip and youthful sensuality of Chelsea on a Saturday night, but it was more laid-back. More fun. And much more hungry. Blake let it wash over him. “If you must know, I think I can stand a few weeks of this,” Blake replied. It was the closest he would come to admitting that Patty and Derrick had been right. Blake caught Derrick‟s trace of a smile, then dug into his flaky salmon with gusto.
*** Several hours and VooDoo Buckets later, Derrick stood. “I have to go to the men‟s room. We‟ll split when I get back.” “Sure! I could do with a good lounge on your patio right about now. Maybe I‟ll even settle in with Patty‟s reader.”
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“What? Like hell you will!” Derrick exclaimed, waving down their waiter. He gave his company credit card to the clean-cut, preppy jock with the dark hair and blue eyes. Then he clapped Blake on the shoulder. “I‟m taking you to the Club.” “The Club?” “One of two bathhouses in Fort Lauderdale,” Derrick explained breathily as he leaned in close. He reeked of alcohol. “It‟s a swinging place! If you can‟t get laid there, you can‟t get laid anywhere.” At a nearby table, two men glanced over, and one nudged the other, nodding in their direction. Blake wasn‟t sure if Derrick was being loud on purpose or if it was simply the booze talking. Derrick weaved through the thinning crowd, bumping into men and grabbing their asses or groping at them. “Here you go.” The waiter sidled up and set the rectangular silver tray with their bill and Derrick‟s credit card on the table. “Where did your boyfriend go?” Blake detected the not-so-faint hint of a come-on. He smiled. “My boy…? Oh! You mean Derrick. He‟s not my boyfriend,” Blake said coyly. “We‟re just friends.” Funny how everyone keeps thinking we‟re boyfriends, Blake mused. He never got that in New York. Then again, Blake rarely hung out with Patty or Derrick after work. The occasional drink or dinner, but that was it. Strangely, he socialized more with Rosemary than he did with his business partners. “In that case…” The waiter gave a lopsided smile. Blake was surprised when he boldly grabbed hold of his hand and pulled a pen from his pocket. He wrote his number on Blake‟s palm. “Just in case you forgot. I‟m Adam. I get off in an hour. Call me.” Adam winked and disappeared into the restaurant. Blake glanced at the table opposite him. A bear—a big, burly, and hairy man—nodded. “People sure are friendly here,” Blake said.
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“Brother, you don‟t know the half of it!” The barrel-chested man snorted, grinned, then forked his dessert.
*** “You sure you won‟t come in?” Derrick prodded. He slammed the passenger door and leaned against it. “Just look at all these cars. The place is jumping! Think of all the cock and ass that must be in there waiting for a couple of hot studs like you and me.” Blake looked around. There wasn‟t a single spot to be had. Even the backup lot was full. Under other circumstances, Blake probably would have said yes. Part of him had wanted to jump cock first into the waiter at Rosie‟s. But the body he yearned to see slowly revealed, in all its glory, was Ricky‟s. In fact, the entire day, Ricky had never been far from his thoughts. “Go get ‟em, tiger,” Blake said encouragingly, though he doubted anyone would think Derrick was a stud. “I think I‟ll pass. I‟m getting tired and I wanna wake up early tomorrow. Going for my first workout since the heart attack.” “Suit yourself,” Derrick said and started walking away. “Wait!” Blake called out. Derrick turned around. “When will you be home?” “If I‟m lucky, I won‟t. I plan on fucking myself into a stupor until it‟s time to fly home tomorrow!” Derrick grinned. “You can find your way back?” Blake nodded. “Have fun with Ricky!” Derrick teased and disappeared into the nondescript beige building behind a fast-food joint. A second later Derrick popped his head back out. “See you in four weeks!” Blake chuckled, surprised at how comfortable he was in such a strange environment. He would have thought he‟d feel like a fish out of water, but he didn‟t. And it was far too early to go back to Derrick‟s. It was only midnight. I know. I’ll take a drive down the beach.
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Blake pulled out of the lot and, with the GPS guiding him, made his way to Sunrise Boulevard. At Andrews and Sunrise, Blake pulled out his iPhone and saw he‟d missed a call. That’s odd. I don’t remember the phone ever ringing. Then he realized he‟d left the phone on mute. Blake picked up the message, and his heart skipped a beat at the sound of Ricky‟s warm voice. “Hello, Blake. Just thought I‟d call and see if you were available for a drink tonight. Guess not. You‟re probably out with Derrick. Okay. Well, I guess I‟ll have to wait until tomorrow. I have an early class in the morning, but I‟m free the rest of the day. In case you want to do something.” Ricky sighed, and there was a moment of silence. Then he spoke again. “Good night. I‟ll be dreaming of you.” A horn blasted behind Blake, and he was surprised he wasn‟t even fazed by the impatient prick behind him. Grinning ear to ear, Blake found himself turning right on A1A much sooner than expected. He kept to the speed limit as he followed the road, enjoying the wind in his hair, the sensual night‟s energy, and Ricky‟s voice saying over and over again his head, “I’ll be dreaming of you.”
*** Back at Derrick‟s house, with Bosco at his heels, Blake sat on the patio. He looked at his last missed call, Ricky‟s phone number, and saved it to his list of contacts. Then, as if it had a mind of its own, Blake‟s thumb hit Dial. “‟Lo?” a sleepy voice answered. “It‟s me.” Blake spoke in a low voice. “Hi, Blake.” Ricky moaned. He sounded as if he was rolling over in bed. “You all right?” “I‟m fine. But I woke you, didn‟t I?” “Uh, no. Not really.”
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“Well, I just… I wanted to say…good night.” “Hmmm. Thanks. Glad you did. So are we going out tomorrow?” “Sure! What do you want to do?” “Anything and everything you want.” “Why don‟t you stop by after your class?” Blake suggested. “I will,” Ricky murmured. “Class is over at nine thirty. I‟ll be there at ten.” Blake could almost see the sleepy grin on the young man‟s face and didn‟t want to hang up just yet. “How was your first day in Lauderdale?” Ricky asked, and Blake was elated. He felt his heart swell with excitement at the thought someone was genuinely interested. “But you were sleeping!” Blake feigned protest. “We can talk tomorrow. You go back to bed.” “I am in bed,” Ricky said huskily. “Too bad you‟re not with me, though. I bet we‟d both sleep a lot better.” “I have a feeling neither one of us would get any sleep,” Blake added, then paused. “You…wanna come over? Or I could go there.” Ricky was silent. Blake held his breath. “Probably not such a good idea right now. But I‟ll make up for it tomorrow. I promise.” “Okay,” Blake replied. He knew it was for the best. Not only was it late, but Ricky had his early class. Yet Blake couldn‟t help the slight disappointment that came over him. “See you in the morning,” Ricky mumbled, then yawned. Seconds later, his breathing was slow and deep, and Blake knew Ricky had fallen asleep. Blake leaned back in the chaise, one arm folded behind his head. He listened a moment before ending the call, and sighed.
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“I look forward to it,” Blake said softly and looked up at the stars as they sparkled and glittered.
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Chapter Five The morning went by excruciatingly slowly, and it seemed as if ten o‟clock would never happen. With every passing minute, Blake grew more anxious. Then, at nine forty-five, the doorbell rang. Blake‟s heart tripped. He felt like an awkward schoolboy at the thought of Ricky on the other side of the door. Blake popped a mint, stepped back and looked at his reflection in the mirror over the side table by the door: cobalt blue shirt to play up his skin, hair lightly tousled, jeans with just the right touch of fade and crotch slightly worn. He took a deep breath, looked at Bosco, who sat patiently a few paces away, and let it out. “Wish me luck, Bosco. Daddy‟s going on a date.” Blake turned the knob and pulled. “Damn it. Fucking doors. Hang on! Sorry,” Blake muttered when he finally wrestled the door open. “I‟m still not”—Blake gasped at the sight of Ricky—“used to these opening out.” Ricky wore a tight-fitting dark blue T-shirt. The white-ringed collar and sleeves only served to accentuate the thick cord of his neck and the swells of his biceps and triceps. Blake thought he would swoon. His eyes brimmed with moisture and his skin tingled in anticipation. “Hi,” Ricky said with a coy grin.
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“Hello,” Blake replied and couldn‟t help an appreciative sweep. Fucking beautiful! He stepped aside and felt Ricky‟s heat as his arm brushed against Blake‟s chest. His cock twitched. “You‟re a bit early,” Blake managed, attempting to make a joke, but it came out wrong. It sounded like an observation. “I know. I couldn‟t wait to get here,” Ricky replied and was then accosted by Bosco, who demanded to be petted. Ricky leaned over, and Blake admired his perfectly round, solid, thick glutes, narrow waist, and wide shoulders. “So you were speeding.” Blake harrumphed. Ricky grinned over his shoulder. “You might say that,” Ricky said with what sounded like amusement. He then brought his attention back to Bosco. Blake pulled the door closed behind him, then stepped quietly up to Ricky just as the young man turned around. Blake found himself unable to resist. He kissed Ricky lightly on the lips. For a moment, it seemed as if time had stopped as he pulled away from Ricky. They were both quiet except for the sound of their breathing, Blake‟s heartbeat thumping in his ears. Their eyes connected, and they gazed at each other. Blake felt as if something had probed his soul. And then Ricky lunged. Blake moaned softly, and Ricky grunted as they kissed. Teeth clicked. Blake detected the flavor of mint on Ricky‟s tongue. He sucked on it as it slid into his mouth, sensually, as if it were Ricky‟s cock. They wrapped their arms around each other, and the heat from the young hunk was incredible. Blake pulled Ricky closer, if that was possible, running his hands down Ricky‟s back, exploring the broad shoulders. Blake traced Ricky‟s scapulas with his fingertips, then ran a path down his spine to his waist.
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Ricky ran his fingers down either side of his spine and Blake flexed instinctively, somehow knowing Ricky would soon grip his buttocks. He‟d heard Latin men had a thing for a solid ass and was glad he‟d gotten up early enough to put in a workout before Ricky came over. They pulled away from each other at the same time and looked deeply into each other‟s eyes. They sighed simultaneously, almost as if their hearts synched and beat as one at that precise moment. “You taste good,” Blake managed. Ricky grinned. “So do you.” “So?” “So?” Ricky repeated playfully. “What do we do about this?” “Isn‟t it obvious?” Ricky grabbed Blake‟s wrist and brought it to his crotch. A whimper escaped Bosco. Blake and Ricky glanced at the dog and watched as he yawned, lay down at their feet, then covered his eyes with his paws. Ricky burst out laughing. “Did you teach him to do that?” “No,” Blake replied, laughing as well. “Well, maybe we should go.” Ricky stepped back. “I could show you around a bit, if Derrick hasn‟t already—” But Blake stopped him. He took Ricky‟s hand and led him up the stairs to his room. “What about Bosco?” Ricky asked as Blake closed the door. “Sorry, Bosco won‟t be joining us,” Blake joked quietly. Rickey chuckled as Blake walked up to him and touched his face. The skin was so smooth. “Besides,” Blake added, “there‟s only room for one dog in this house.” “Then I guess I should leave, huh?” Ricky teased with a lick of his lips.
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“Oh no. You‟re not going anywhere. I‟ve got you exactly where I want you.” Blake gently urged Ricky onto his back. He lowered the full weight of his body onto the young man. They both groaned at the pressure against their hard cocks. They kissed once more, tongues flicking as if with a mind of their own. They teased and groped at each other, rolling around until they found themselves in the center of the king-size bed. “You‟re a hot fucker, you know that?” Ricky said, his voice husky and warm in Blake‟s ear as they ground their hips together and writhed against each other. “So are you.” Blake worked one arm underneath Ricky‟s torso and positioned his other arm so his hand cradled the young man‟s head, effectively pinning him down. “As if I would want to get away now,” Ricky said. “What do you mean?” Blake mumbled. “The way you‟re holding me,” Ricky explained. “Pinned like this, trapped between your arms. The way you‟re holding my head, like you‟re expecting me to leave.” Blake opened his mouth and licked Ricky‟s neck, from the base to near his scalp. He nibbled gently, and Ricky sighed, writhing beneath him. “How is it that a guy like you is still single?” Ricky muttered, spreading his legs and wrapping them around Blake‟s waist. He placed a hand on either side of Blake‟s face. “Just waiting for the right guy to come along. I guess.” Blake looked into Ricky‟s eyes. They remained silent. Blake felt something he‟d never experienced before. It was a warm, almost soothing sensation, yet frightening at the same time. It reminded him of the first time he‟d learned to ride a bike—that feeling of liberation, of exhilaration. Strange how it was almost like falling.
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“I like the sound of that.” Ricky pulled Blake down towards him until their lips locked again, and Blake wondered, to his surprise, if Ricky believed in love at first sight. Ricky kicked his sneakers to the floor and cupped Blake‟s ass, pulling him even closer. “You know, I didn‟t think we would wind up in bed right off the bat.” “We can stop anytime you want,” Blake said playfully. “Hell no! Now that you‟ve got me going, you‟re gonna finish what you started, lover boy. Latinos don‟t like to be teased.” “Is that so?” Blake smirked. Ricky nodded. Blake sat on his haunches, as if to move away. Ricky grinned. “Oh no you don‟t!” Ricky moved his legs out from under Blake‟s ass and tugged his T-shirt off. He flung it to one side, then tugged at Blake, nearly ripping the buttons on his shirt. Blake shrugged it off and let Ricky take it off him, and the shirt fluttered to the ground. Ricky grabbed Blake, lifted him, and pushed him roughly onto his back with a grunt. Blake responded by shoving his fingers into the front of Ricky‟s jeans and yanking him close. Ricky ground his hips into Blake, lips bruising, fingers hot and burning on Blake‟s flesh. A small voice cried out in warning as Blake‟s heart began to pound loud and heavy but Blake ignored it. He pushed Ricky‟s head down. The young man licked, nibbled, and bit as he moved toward Blake‟s hard, peaked nipples. Ricky licked as he kept going. Then Blake felt Ricky‟s hot breath hit his belly button. Ricky pressed a hand onto Blake‟s pulsating erection inside his jeans. “Nice!” Ricky buried his face in Blake‟s crotch, inhaling deeply. “Oh God!” Blake moaned, grabbing the back of Ricky‟s head and holding it in place as he writhed against Ricky‟s face.
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Ricky nibbled on his cock through his jeans, and Blake relished the pleasurepain. Ricky raised his head and Blake met his gaze as the young man fumbled with the top button of his jeans. Their eyes locked as Ricky slowly unzipped him, teasing, then pulled at the elastic of Blake‟s underwear. Ricky reached inside and released the throbbing erection. He held Blake‟s hard cock up by the base then licked the bottom of the shaft from Blake‟s balls to the tip. Ricky opened his mouth and wrapped his lips around the fat mushroom head, and Blake sighed from the sensation. It had been a long time since Blake had been serviced the way Ricky was working his cock. He was amazed the young man was able to open his mouth wide enough to take him all the way down to the balls, considering the girth, when so few had ever done so. And as Ricky slowly bobbed his head up and down—no hands, just lips, tongue, and throat, the way it should be—pressure built inside Blake. Ricky cupped his balls and tugged. Blake nearly blew right then, but he placed his hand against Ricky‟s forehead and nudged him away. “C‟mon, baby! You‟re so close,” Ricky said in a hushed tone, but Blake didn‟t reply. A stitch settled in his chest, with a tightness that was frighteningly familiar. Blake sat up in bed, a hand over his heart as if that would protect him and keep him safe. “Blake? Blake!” Breathe. Just breathe. Slow. In. Out. Blake closed his eyes, afraid he was having another heart attack. But he refused to give in. He would not let it happen. Blake imagined his heart slowing down, pumping blood less violently. He imagined himself resting, calm. He thought of Bosco waiting patiently for him downstairs. Thought of lovely Rosemary, always
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willing to listen and available with a comment. He thought of Ricky, the two of them just lying calmly together, napping, lightly snoring. Blake opened his eyes and smiled wanly. “Are you…you okay?” Ricky asked with concern in his eyes. He looked frightened. “I think so.” Blake nodded. “But I think maybe we should skip the chandelier, the trapeze, and the elephants.” Ricky chuckled and squeezed his shoulder. “You scared me, bro.” Blake cleared his throat. “I scared me too.” “So what happened?” Ricky asked after a moment. It took Blake a few minutes to gather his thoughts, to push aside his emotions. “I, uh…I had a heart attack. A couple of weeks ago.” “Jesus, Blake! Derrick didn‟t say anything. I‟m so sorry.” Ricky moved to sit beside him. He placed a hand over Blake‟s heart. They looked at each other. “Are you okay now?” Ricky asked quietly. “I think so.” “Should we get you to a hospital? Just in case, I mean.” “I don‟t know. I…I might have just panicked. But I guess it wouldn‟t hurt to call the cardiologist.” Ricky stood and bent over. He picked up Blake‟s shirt and handed it to him. “You know,” Ricky said as he slipped on his T-shirt. “It‟s kinda hot thinking I might give you a heart attack.” Ricky grinned. Blake lashed out with his shirt. “C‟mon. Hurry up and call that cardiologist of yours. We‟re going to go see him.” Ricky grabbed his sneakers, sat on the bed, and slipped them on. “We can‟t do that. He‟s in New York.”
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“Well, I‟m no med student but I‟m pretty sure he must‟ve referred you to someone down here otherwise you wouldn‟t have been cleared to travel. Now hurry up, pick up the fucking phone, and call. We‟re getting your sorry ass to the doctor!” “You don‟t have to do that.” “I know I don‟t have to. I want to. But we‟re taking your car. And I‟m driving!”
*** Sitting in one of the examining rooms at AHF Northpoint Medical, Blake perked up when the doctor walked in. “All right, Mr. Hudson. I know you probably don‟t want to hear this, but…” Dear God. Please. No. “There‟s nothing wrong with you,” the doctor said as he consulted his chart. “What?” “There‟s nothing wrong with you. I‟m thinking you probably just wigged out. That‟s all.” The doctor smiled. “So, what I felt wasn‟t… a…a…?” Blake asked, afraid of being too relieved. “No, Mr. Hudson,” the doctor said. “It was definitely not a heart attack. You‟re just a normal, red-blooded male, and what you experienced was the beginning of orgasm. They can be pretty scary after a heart attack.” “But it felt like…like that night. You have no idea how frightened I was.” “I do. I can tell you from personal experience that you‟re going to be oversensitive for a while. Maybe even for the rest of your life. I don‟t know. That‟s up to you. You see, your brain is set up to protect you, no matter what. When it feels threatened, you‟re going to react the way you did. Memories reside deep down in your cells, Mr. Hudson. And that includes this wonderful muscle.” The doctor placed an open hand on Blake‟s chest, directly over his heart. “Thanks, Dr. Brown. That‟s a huge relief.” “You‟re welcome,” the doctor replied as he pulled his hand away. “Now, I‟m going to recommend you see a psychologist when you get back home or, at the very
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least, join a support group. Life-altering health issues can have a huge impact. Some therapy might help you through this. I‟m also going to fax your doctor my recommendations as well as your results.” The doctor turned to leave. “Oh, and no offense, but…I hope I never see you back here again,” he said with a grin. “But if you need me, just call. Now get out there and have fun!” Blake chuckled, shook hands with Dr. Brown, and walked into the corridor. Waiting in the lobby, Ricky looked up, as curious as Bosco. “What did he say?” Blake looked around to make sure they were alone. “He said we can fuck like bunnies!” Ricky laughed. “I‟m thinking that can wait. Why don‟t we go and grab a bite to eat? I know this really cool restaurant on the Intracoastal, where cute Greek boys dance on tables and throw plates on the floor!”
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Chapter Six “The only thing that matters,” Ricky said over lunch at Taverna Opa, “is right now. This very moment. I mean, it‟s all we have! It‟s all any of us have.” All around them people casually sauntered by, relaxed and unhurried—unlike New York. Yachts pulled up to the dock, then left. The water taxi shuttled back and forth, letting people off and on. “I know.” Blake nodded, acknowledging Ricky‟s comment and enjoying his exuberance. “You‟re absolutely right. I became well aware of that after the heart attack. I mean, I‟ve always known this is all we have, but still. It‟s amazing how we take things for granted.” “I would imagine it made you reevaluate your life in some ways,” Ricky said, tearing into a buttered roll. “It has,” Blake said, suddenly cautious. He found himself wondering how it was that someone so young could make him open up. Stranger still, make him want to! It could have been the shot of ouzo, but Blake didn‟t think so. Just being with Ricky made him want to spill his secrets, tell his fears, and confide his demons. “I guess that‟s one of the reasons why I‟m here,” Blake continued. “I mean, aside from recuperating.” They were silent a moment. “I haven‟t said this to anyone else and…” Blake sighed heavily. “God. I even hate to admit it, but…I was scared. Really…really scared.” Blake smiled weakly as Ricky placed a hand over his.
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“You shouldn‟t be afraid of admitting you‟re scared,” Ricky said quietly. “Everyone gets scared.” “It‟s a sign of weakness,” Blake blurted. “Not to me.” Ricky shook his head. “It means you‟re human.” Blake gazed deeply into Ricky‟s eyes. He scanned the young man‟s face, searching for a single shred of sarcasm. But the innocent look was sincere. He meant what he said. Blake lowered his eyes, almost ashamed for having doubted. Then he cleared his throat, grinned, and waved a hand in the air dismissively. “Enough about me. What about you?” “What about me?” Ricky teased. “How old are you?” “Is this an official interview?” Ricky laughed warmly. “Because if it is, you‟re not supposed to ask that.” “I‟m just curious.” “Well, since you put it that way, I‟m 24. But age is just a number to me.” “You won‟t be saying that when you get to be my age.” “Which is?” Ricky teased. “I refuse to answer for fear of incriminating myself,” Blake replied with a mock serious face. Then he leaned in as if he were about to share something top secret. “I‟m 39.” “Okay old man,” Ricky whispered and the two burst into laughter. A comfortable silence surrounded them before Blake spoke again. “Seriously, though. Tell me more about you. I want to know all there is to know about Ricky Sanchez. Like where do you go to school? What classes are you taking this semester? How long you‟ve been doing massage? And…” Blake licked his lower lip, then bit down slightly as Ricky smiled that melting smile again. “And?”
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“Why are you so damn…hot…and adorable?” Ricky burst out laughing. Suddenly, Mikis Theodorakis‟s “Zorba‟s Dance” began to play. Someone whooped, another person hollered, and with the opening strings, there was a sudden charge in the air. Blake looked up as, one by one, the waiters joined together. It was as if they were magnetized to one another, extending their arms and wrapping them around one another‟s shoulders. The chain of young men grew, slowly at first, as they danced through the aisles around the restaurant, then jumped on tables as the song picked up speed. Crotches bounced, and things jiggled before Blake, who gasped with delight and the realization that perhaps he hadn‟t truly experienced life before. Blake teared up unexpectedly and dabbed at his eyes as plump and beefy rear ends, mere inches from his face, made his mouth water. Even Ricky was pulled into the dancing. The waiters, mostly young Greek men in their twenties, were all dressed in black. Strong, masculine, and beefy, they were adorable in their youth, ever smiling and seemingly unaware of how hot they looked. It was as if they were ignorant—or unconcerned—about their sensuality. Blake decided they were all beautiful, but none was as sexy or handsome as Ricky, who laughed and danced with such wild abandon that it was contagious. Even Blake couldn‟t resist getting up and joining them, joyful in a single moment of fun as he stepped and kicked with Ricky in the company of Greeks.
*** After lunch, Blake decided on the spur of the moment to leave the rental car where it was. They took the water taxi south to the New River and walked along the lazy, winding, sun-dappled path while the Jungle Queen and other boats chugged by. “Sorry about the lack of plate smashing. I didn‟t know that was only on weekends, when the crowd is bigger.”
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“I‟m not complaining.” Blake grinned, still feeling buzzed from the excitement. He looked around at the condos on either side of the water. “These are nice!” “They are, actually! Expensive but nice. I have a client I work on up there.” Ricky singled out one of the buildings then pointed out the Broward Center for the Performing Arts and its banner of touring shows. Across the street was the Museum of Discovery and Science, where an undersea movie was playing at the IMAX Theater. Unable to resist, his heart feeling as if it would burst from joy, Blake took Ricky‟s hand in his. Fingers entwined, they continued walking, ignoring the occasional odd glare from passersby. They turned left just before the train tracks and stopped at Brew Urban, a hip café where they sat close to each other: Ricky with his Latte Maximo, Blake with a bottle of Blackthorn. They were oblivious to the people who traipsed in and out. “So are you glad to be almost done with school?” “Yes and no,” Ricky replied with a sigh. “I like going to school. Plus I like learning new things. And I love being on campus. It‟s a lot of fun! All those really cute guys walking around as clueless as puppies.” “Until they see a girl who gives them a boner,” Blake said snidely. “Oh my God! Right?” Ricky laughed, and Blake grinned. “What are you going to do with your degree?” “I…I don‟t know.” Ricky shrugged. “What can I really do with it?” “Are you kidding me? You can do almost anything with a marketing degree— public relations, television, any print media. You really should think about sending your résumé to my company. I know Derrick mentioned it to you.” “You mean New York?” Ricky arched an eyebrow and made a face. “Sure! Why not? You already know two of the owners at Baby, Jane, and Hudson.” “I don‟t know. I‟m not sure New York is my kinda place. Know what I mean?”
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“I thought that way at first,” Blake said, trying not to feel defensive. “I had a hard time adjusting when I moved to New York from Northern California. But the Big Apple grows on you. It‟s intense and exciting with an energy all its own. Just about anything and everything you could possibly want is there for you 24-7. And you don‟t have to drive half a mile for a gallon of milk.” Ricky chuckled, then leaned in sensually. “You sound like you‟re trying to convince me.” “Maybe I am.” Blake pressed his forehead against Ricky‟s. “I‟m a Florida boy. Born and raised in Miami. I need heat,” he said, stressing the last word in a sexual tone. “Who says New York doesn‟t have any?” Blake teased, leaning back. Ricky shrugged playfully. “You know, we‟ve talked about a lot of personal stuff.” Blake placed a hand over Ricky‟s. “Stuff that I‟ve never told a soul.” “I know, right? What‟s up with that?” Ricky replied, placing his other hand on top of Blake‟s. “I just feel…comfortable with you. Very, very comfortable.” Blake added his free hand to the pile, pinning them all down together. “So do I,” Ricky replied. He looked up and gazed longingly into Blake‟s eyes. “This feels…” “Like we‟ve known each other a long time,” Blake finished. “Exactly.” They shared a quiet moment. Blake felt elated, not caring if anyone saw them holding hands. “Derrick mentioned you were only here for four weeks,” Ricky said after a while. “That‟s right,” Blake sighed. “I almost wish…you weren‟t leaving,” Ricky continued.
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Blake didn‟t know what to say. He‟d been thinking the same thing. A growing discomfort came over him so he changed the subject. “You know, there‟s one thing you haven‟t told me.” “What‟s that?” Ricky asked. “You never said if you were single.” “Oh. That,” Ricky said dismissively. Blake couldn‟t help but notice that he pulled his hands away. “I take it that means you‟re with someone,” Blake said, unable to mask the sudden feeling of disappointment, the tone of his voice, or the heaviness of his heart. “It‟s…complicated.” “Not really. You‟re either single or you‟re not.” “Blake,” Ricky said after a heavy sigh. “Can‟t we just have fun? You know…play around town, enjoy each other‟s company, and…have sex?” Then he added with a lusty grin. “Now that we know you can?” Blake thought about it, reflecting on all the previous men he‟d been with physically, how they had wanted to get attached, only he hadn‟t let it happen. He didn‟t want them to get close. Couldn‟t see himself doing that again, at least not from his end. He‟d guarded his heart carefully. But here he was, sitting across from a man he had just met, in a city he‟d come to because he was supposed to be taking care of himself, nursing his heart, relaxing. And already he was falling for Ricky. How was it possible when he‟d been so careful? And what did it matter anyway? He was only there for four weeks! It wasn‟t like he was moving. Even if Ricky felt the same, even if they fell in love, even if they both admitted they couldn‟t stand being apart, they had separate lives and little in common. Ricky was still in school, and Blake couldn‟t expect the boy to throw everything away and move to New York with him, especially when he wouldn‟t even do it for a job offer that was a sure thing.
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And he sure as hell wasn‟t moving down to Fort Lauderdale, no matter how beautiful and tranquil it was. In spite of the fifteen-year age difference, despite the fact that Ricky said he just wanted to have fun, Blake couldn‟t help but seeing the two of them together. But how would it look when he was forty-nine and Ricky only thirty-four? How would Ricky truly feel about getting involved with someone with a serious health issue? Sure he joked about it, but once reality set in, things were different. And why the hell was he thinking of his life long-term? He never did before. And yet— “Let‟s go,” Ricky said suddenly and stood. “I‟m not done.” Blake raised the half-empty bottle. “I‟ll buy you another one later. Now c‟mon!” Ricky grabbed Blake by the hand. Unable to resist and unwilling for their time together to end, Blake followed, despite feeling that it had been soured. Outside the King-Cromartie House, a small, two-story home in Old Fort Lauderdale, Ricky pulled Blake behind a hibiscus bush and pressed him against the siding. He kissed Blake full on the lips. “What are you—Someone might see us,” Blake hissed. “That‟s kinda the point.” Ricky grinned wickedly as he glanced sideways. He turned his attention back to Blake. “I get off on being watched.” Ricky sought Blake‟s mouth again. Surprised at himself, Blake kissed him back, then pulled away again. “Ricky, can we…?” Blake started, but Ricky didn‟t answer. He took Blake‟s hand and led him farther down a narrow alley. Once there, he groped at Blake. “Not exactly romantic, though. Is it?” Blake said, aroused more than he would have thought possible. Ricky ignored him and popped the top button of his jeans. “I‟m not after romance, Blake,” Ricky replied, his voice throaty with desire. “Not now. I just want your cock. And I can‟t wait. I‟ve got to have you. Here. Now.”
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When Blake opened his mouth to protest, Ricky put a finger to his lips. He leaned forward. Their lips locked, and their tongues met. Their kissing was fast. Furious. Blake brushed his nervousness aside as he got caught up in the excitement of being with the handsome young man out in the open for anyone to catch them in the act. After all, Ricky was right. What did it matter? All they had was right here, right now. Only this moment in time. Besides, you‟re leaving in four weeks, Blake told himself. Just have your way with him and let him go. Don‟t get involved. But that was easier said than done, especially as Ricky sank to his knees, his eyes glazed over with lust. He looked as if he had completely tuned out his surroundings. Like an addict needing a fix. The only thing Ricky seemed aware of was Blake‟s throbbing cock pulsating in his jeans. Ricky unzipped him, then worked his hard cock out in the open. It was already drooling with excitement, and Ricky greedily lapped at the clear juice. Blake moaned as Ricky wrapped his lips around the head of Blake‟s cock. Blake leaned his head back and sighed, a hand at Ricky‟s nape. He looked down and noticed the way Ricky‟s thick lips were spread wide. He slurped noisily, sucking Blake almost violently as he created a vacuum. His cheeks hollowed out from the suction. A few minutes later a familiar sensation creep into his balls. They tightened, and warmth coursed throughout his body, making him flushed. His heart pounded, and he had to force himself to remain calm, to tell himself he would be fine. This was not a heart attack, it was normal. Nothing would happen to him. Not while he was with Ricky. Blake forgot where he was, no longer caring that they might be seen or that he was getting sucked off in public. It was an incredible rush, and it was glorious. He
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let the slight buzz from the cider flow through him. The warmth of the sun on his body and the thrill of being caught made him feel so alive! Blake wanted to shout and scream at the top of his lungs, let the world know, I’m coming! But he wrapped his lips around his teeth, clamped down, and closed his eyes as a muffled moan escaped him. Ricky made mewling noises as he hungrily swallowed every drop of Blake‟s load, now several weeks in reserve. He gulped quickly and continued feeding until Blake‟s cock went soft and he stopped convulsing. I’m still here! Nothing happened. Nothing happened! Blake looked down at Ricky. He noted the lust in Ricky‟s eyes, the face still full of desire. Ricky stood, then his lips burned against Blake‟s. Without warning, Blake‟s eyes filled with tears of gratitude. “Why are you crying?” Ricky asked softly. “I… You… That was the first time…” Blake struggled. “First time?” “I haven‟t come since that night. Since I had the heart attack,” Blake explained. “Not even to jerk off?” Blake shook his head. Ricky held his face and kissed him while Blake hugged him close, tasting his cum on Ricky‟s tongue and lips. “Then I‟m glad I was able to do that for you. I‟m glad I was your first since then.” “Thank you,” Blake mumbled. “You can thank me later, papi. For now, just watch me,” Ricky said excitedly. He unzipped himself and reached into his pants. He pulled out his fat brown cock. It was already hard, and Ricky stroked it furiously. “Kiss me!” Ricky said hoarsely. Blake looked around, then turned his attention back to Ricky. He sighed as their lips met.
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Blake cupped Ricky‟s chest and tweaked his nipples. Ricky moaned into his mouth. The young man‟s breath caught, and he came with a whimper.
*** “What‟s wrong?” Ricky asked. Blake glanced at him, shot him a smile. They were back in the car, top down, driving back to the house in Rio Vista. “What makes you think anything is wrong?” “You‟ve been quiet since…you know.” Blake shot Ricky a lopsided grin and took his hand. He squeezed it tight. “There‟s nothing wrong,” Blake replied as he pulled the car into the driveway beside Ricky‟s. How could he tell Ricky how disappointed he was? How could he tell a perfect stranger—no matter how well they got along, no matter how much he felt as if they‟d known each other their entire lives—that he was experiencing emotions he hadn‟t felt in a long time? Emotions he‟d sworn he‟d never feel again and could do nothing about. Emotions that confused him. “This trip isn‟t quite what I expected,” Blake said finally, opened the car door, and stepped out. “I‟m a bit confused.” “What do you mean?” Ricky asked, also getting out. “I‟m supposed to be relaxing,” Blake continued, realizing he was talking loudly. He slammed the door. The noise made Bosco bark inside the house. Ricky remained silent. “I guess you‟d better go. I have to take care of Bosco.” Ricky glanced at him with what looked like disappointment. “Thanks for a fun time. I enjoyed myself.” Blake reached into his pocket and pulled the keys out. He turned his back on Ricky and walked toward the house. The key was in the lock when Ricky grabbed his shoulder. “Wait a minute,” Ricky exclaimed. “What‟s going on here?” “I…I have to go.”
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“Please don‟t,” Ricky pleaded. “Not like this. We were having such a great time. We can still have a good time, Blake.” “But don‟t you have someone to go home to?” Ricky flinched as if he had been slapped. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He pursed his lips and seemed to struggle with something. “So that‟s what this is about. You were upset at me.” “I‟m not upset. More disappointed.” “And what if I were single?” “Are you?” “What difference would it make? Besides, it‟s not like you live here. You‟ll be gone soon, and then what will happen to me?” “What do you mean?” “Nothing. Listen, I‟ve got class in the morning and some massage appointments in the afternoon. I should go.” Neither of them said anything. “I‟m sorry I made you mad,” Ricky finally mumbled after the awkward silence and started to walk away. “I‟m not mad,” Blake explained. Ricky stopped and looked at him. “I‟m just…disappointed. Like I said.” Ricky nodded, seemed to mull something over, and shot Blake a sad smile. “I had a great time. I wish… Oh, never mind. It‟s not going to change anything.” “I‟d better get inside. Bosco needs me.” Blake turned and unlocked the door. “You run away a lot, don‟t you?” Ricky said suddenly. Blake wanted to retort. Something flared inside him, and he started to answer, but Ricky was already getting into his car. Let him go, he told himself. It‟s just as good.
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Only there was another part of him that was stunned and kept asking: What the fuck just happened here?
*** Except he couldn‟t let it go. Not this time. It had been several hours since they‟d parted. Blake had taken Bosco for a few walks throughout the evening. He had checked his phone repeatedly, half expecting to see Ricky had called. He had sat on the patio, wishing he was well enough to get into the hot tub or sit in the steam room, but he didn‟t want to risk it. And all he could think of was Ricky. What the hell did that mean? How was it possible that he could still feel Ricky‟s touch? Feel the young man pressed against his own body? Feel Ricky‟s lips around his cock? Or that he could smell him? Blake sighed heavily throughout the night. Not a single call. Not even a text. From no one. Not from Patty or Derrick or Rosemary. And definitely not Ricky. Finally, well after midnight, padding in bare feet into the elevator with Bosco beside him, Blake made his way up to his room. This is ridiculous. What the hell should it matter to me if he’s single or not? He’s just a distraction. A bit of fun. It’s not like I’ve cared before. But in his heart, Blake knew that regardless of caution, no matter how well guarded he‟d been, and despite all odds, he was falling in love with Ricky. Then he wondered: if he had run into Ricky up in New York, would he feel the same? Blake remembered the images that had flitted through his mind yesterday morning, the way he had felt when they shook hands. Their day together. And his heart ached. “Fuck!” Blake exclaimed as he climbed into bed. Suddenly his phone vibrated. It rattled along the surface of the nightstand. Bosco gave a slight woof, then jumped into bed. Blake snatched up the phone and looked at the number.
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“Hello?” His heart skipped. “Were you sleeping?” Ricky‟s voice sounded thick. “No. Just getting into bed.” “Oh. Okay.” There was a pause. Blake thought he heard Ricky sniffle. “I‟ll leave you alone, then. Have a good ni—” “No. Wait! Please.” The air was heavy with silence. “I‟m sorry.” “For what?” “The whole…being-single thing. I have no right to make any claims on you. Especially with you…” Seeing someone else, Blake wanted to say. But the only thing he managed was, “I‟m sorry.” “You already said that,” Ricky chuckled. “Besides, you have nothing to be sorry about.” I‟m the one who should be apologizing to you. We were having such a good time, and I just… I fucked it all up. And all because I couldn‟t tell you the truth.” “What do you mean?” “The truth about me.” “I don‟t understand.” There was an incredibly sharp intake of air followed by an unusually long sigh before Ricky answered. “Blake…the truth is…we broke up. Bruno and me. Several months ago. But we‟re still living together. I can‟t afford to move out just yet, and I didn‟t want to date anybody else. Not for a while. You know what I mean? It‟s awkward. And I didn‟t think it would be fair to anybody, catching me like this, on the rebound. I swore to myself I was just going to hook up with other guys, fuck around, and be a total whore. I was going to use them before they used me. But then…” There was a pause. Blake held his breath almost against his will. “Then I met you. I knew the moment I saw you, the second your hand touched mine, that you were trouble.” “Trouble? How?”
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Ricky cleared his throat. “Let‟s just say…you make me see my future differently.” “Do I?” Blake asked, feeling his heart swell. “Yeah. It all started when you shook my hand yesterday. When you gave me that shock. You‟ve made me doubt whether the things I‟ve been working toward are things I really want in my life. And what‟s worse is that you don‟t even fucking live here!” There was another deep breath. An exhale. Heavy sniffling. But this time Blake wasn‟t sure if it had come from Ricky or himself. “This is going to sound dumb, Blake. You‟ll think I‟m crazy. I mean…we‟ve only just met. Right? Things like this—they just don‟t happen. I know if somebody said this to me, I‟d be like…what the fuck? But I gotta ask. Do you…do you believe in love at first sight?”
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Chapter Seven Ricky stood in the doorway, eyes down, shoulders slumped. He was wearing a pair of gray cutoff sweatpants, a plain white T-shirt, and a dark blue hoodie against the cool February night. His right hand was bunched into his pocket. In his left was an overnight bag. Blake couldn‟t help being reminded of a sad-faced puppy anxious to regain its master‟s faith, trust, and love. “I hope you don‟t mind,” Ricky sounded apologetic as he indicated the bag. “I…I brought a change of clothes. Just in case.” “In case?” “In case it gets too late for me to go back home.” Blake smiled and cocked his head. He moved aside and Ricky walked in, a lot less confident than he had been earlier that day. Had it only been that morning? “You can kick me out anytime you want. Okay? Just tell me to leave,” Ricky continued. “I mean, you know…if you get tired.” Blake stepped up to Ricky, took the bag, and held his hand. “Thank you for coming over.” Blake spoke in a half whisper. “I couldn‟t stop thinking about you. And I didn‟t like the way we ended things.” “Neither did I!” Ricky exclaimed with relief. “Plus, I think Bosco missed you.” Ricky chuckled and looked around. “Where is he?” “Outside. We were waiting for you on the patio.”
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Blake dropped the bag by the sliding-glass doors, and they walked out together. Bosco instantly raced toward Ricky and stood on his hind legs, demanding affection. “He does like you,” Blake marveled. “He‟s a pretty friendly dog in general, but with most guys I bring home, he just sniffs and walks away. Like he can‟t be bothered. He‟s even growled at a few of them.” Blake picked up one of the two empty wineglasses beside a bucket of ice and poured from the opened bottle of South African white wine. “How long have you had him?” Ricky turned around. Blake got the impression Ricky was remaining on safe ground. What else was there to say that hadn‟t already been said? “Since he was a pup,” Blake replied, handing Ricky the glass. “He‟ll be seven in a few months. Bill—that‟s my ex—he gave Bosco to me for my birthday. Just before we…uh, I mean… I…left him.” “Why did you leave?” Blake filled the other glass and thought before replying. “Let‟s just say that except for Bosco, Bill was…a mistake. Cheers!” They clinked glasses, and each took a sip. Quietly, they stepped to the chaise lounges and sat across from each other. “May I ask what happened?” Ricky asked after some time. “We were together for…four? No, five years. It was good at first, like any relationship. Bill was a sweet man. His former lover had passed away, and he‟d been single a few years. He lived in a nice house in Connecticut. Had a pool, three cars, commuted into Manhattan daily. Worked on Wall Street. We saw each other every weekend, sometimes during the week. I‟d stay at his place, or he‟d stay at mine.
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“But I always got the feeling he was more than me. Like he was trying to be humble about the differences in our…financial status, but he couldn‟t seem to help gloating about it.” “Maybe you were just sensitive about it? I know I am. When I stop to think about it.” “I suppose. Maybe. I don‟t know. Whatever the reason, I don‟t think I ever felt secure around him. No matter how many times he‟d tell me that it didn‟t matter where I came from, or that I had run away from home and was no longer in touch with my family, or that I lived in a studio apartment—” “You ran away from home?” Ricky sounded surprised. Blake nodded. “When I was sixteen. Dad was…physically and verbally abusive. I couldn‟t stand it anymore. Couldn‟t deal with watching my mom get rushed to the hospital one more time or have one too many falls when I tried to intervene. Got tired of listening to the bullshit excuses me and my mom kept coming up with when people asked what happened.” Bosco came up then, jumped on the chaise, and laid his muzzle in Blake‟s lap. “Anyway, eventually Bill asked me to move in with him. He said he didn‟t want to be apart from me another moment and that if I loved him…really, really loved him…I would say yes. I should have taken a step back right there. God knows the warning flags went up. You don‟t put up conditions when you truly love someone. But I think I was blinded by the car keys.” “Car keys?” Blake snorted sarcastically. “He gave me a car. A brand-new Lexus. Well, not brand-new. Used.” “Christ! Are you kidding me? If someone bought me a car—” “No!” Blake shook his head. “He was buying me. And I was too tired of running. So damn tired of fighting and feeling like the bastard stepchild that I bought it, hook, line, and sinker. But once I moved in, the verbal abuse started. It
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was subtle at first but then grew to the point where I became so defensive I would dread coming home. Love isn‟t supposed to make you feel like that. Is it?” “No,” Ricky piped up. “You should want to come home to the man you love after a hard day at work, putting up with people pawing at you, teachers nagging at you, parents calling you stupid, and friends stabbing you in the back. He should be there for you, defend you, stand up for you. You shouldn‟t be walking into your own apartment only to find your supposed best friend sleeping with your boyfriend.” The two were suddenly quiet. In the distance, a tugboat chugged along the water and sent it slapping at the seawall. The yacht anchored to the deck groaned lightly. A frog croaked, and Bosco‟s ears perked. He jumped off the chaise and padded to the water‟s edge. “Bill was my first.” “Sounds an awful lot like me and Bruno.” Ricky downed the rest of his wine, stood, and then sat next to Blake. He put his left hand on Blake‟s right thigh. They gazed into each other‟s eyes. “No more ghosts between us,” Ricky said. Blake kissed Ricky tenderly. “Make love to me Blake,” Ricky moaned, his voice barely audible. Blake put his wineglass down, took Ricky by the hand, and led him inside.
*** They faced each other in the oversize shower, their bodies pelted by the droplets of pressurized water hitting them from the multiple showerheads. Blake‟s hard cock was firmly planted between Ricky‟s legs while the younger man‟s throbbed hotly against Blake‟s belly. They wrapped their arms around each other, kissing. “Turn around,” Blake muttered, pulling away. Without question, Ricky obeyed. Bar of soap in hand, Blake massaged Ricky‟s back, first up and down the shoulder blades, then along the spine. Ricky sighed and threw his head back. Blake
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kissed him from behind while wrapping his arms around Ricky‟s chest, working up a lather on his smooth, caramel-colored skin. Blake slowly worked his hands and the bar of soap down farther until he was playing with Ricky‟s jet-black patch. Ricky moaned, raised an arm up and back to pull Blake‟s mouth down toward his nape. Blake nibbled gently and bit at Ricky‟s thick, muscled shoulder. He kept his hands busy washing Ricky‟s hairless, heavy, and full balls. He gripped Ricky‟s hot cock, loving the way it pulsed as he stroked the shaft. Ricky started to turn around, but Blake held him in place. He released Ricky‟s genitals, then brought the soap around to his ass—that plump, round, beautifully smooth rear that Blake longed to taste. He rubbed the bar of soap up and down the crack of Ricky‟s beefy ass. The young Cuban responded by quivering and pushing back toward Blake, his hands on the tiled wall before him. Blake washed Ricky thoroughly, enjoyed the feel of the tightly puckered sphincter. Like the rest of him, it was also hairless. “Oh, Blake!” Ricky moaned and leaned forward even more. “Eat me!” Blake was all too happy to oblige. He let the soap fall, reached for Ricky‟s beefy cheeks, and spread them. Ricky‟s pink starburst seemed to wink at him as water cascaded down the tempting crevice. Steam surrounded them as Blake buried his face in Ricky‟s delectable globes and licked, lightly at first, then with more pressure. Blake was reminded of bubble gum as he lapped at Ricky: sweet and juicy. He circled repeatedly, making Ricky groan. Ricky reached behind with one hand, grasped the back of his head, and pulled him closer. With each thrust, Ricky pushed back, his hole opening more and more as Blake introduced his middle finger to the puckered entrance.
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It felt as if Ricky‟s body were on fire. Blake enjoyed the way Ricky shook and trembled like an old car with no carburetor. He continued working Ricky until he had three fingers inside. “Ay! Dios mío,” Ricky moaned, lapsing into Spanish. Blake chuckled to himself. “Please, Blake,” Ricky begged hoarsely. “Take me! I want to feel you inside me! I need that cock pumping me!” Blake turned the water off. They stepped out of the shower and toweled off. Holding hands, they then made their way to the king-size bed in Blake‟s room. Blake turned on the stereo, while Ricky lay down in the middle of the bed. With soft music playing in the background, Blake then dimmed the lights and climbed in after Ricky, nudging his legs apart with one knee. He lay on top of Ricky, their cocks pressed together. Their arms extended, fingers intertwined, and Blake outlined Ricky‟s lips with his tongue, then darted it in and out of his mouth as if he were fucking it with his cock. Ricky kept trying to nip it, but Blake kept teasing and pulling back just in time. “You don‟t know what you do to me, Blake,” Ricky managed. “I have a pretty good idea,” Blake mumbled sensually and unlaced his fingers from Ricky‟s. Blake grabbed Ricky‟s wrist and brought his hand down to the base of his cock. “So thick and hot!” Ricky squeezed Blake and moaned, pumping the shaft a few times. Blake grinned lewdly, then moved down toward Ricky‟s chest. He hated having to part from Ricky‟s tight grip, but where he was going next, they would both be much happier. Blake sought first one nipple, then the other. With his teeth and tongue, Blake teased Ricky until he was writhing, back arching. The nipples grew like buds, and Ricky‟s cock jumped every time Blake chewed on them.
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“Hmmm. Seems like your cock‟s hard-wired to your nipples,” Blake noted with mild amusement. “You should see how I get when you use the clamps on them.” “Oh yeah? I‟d like to see that sometime.” Blake flicked the nipples once more and kept traveling, his hands on either side of Ricky‟s flesh, his mouth half open, kissing, licking, and nibbling as he went. “You have such a beautiful cock!” Blake muttered. He looked up at Ricky from between his raised legs, which were bent at the knees. Blake thrilled at the look of desire on Ricky‟s face. He turned his attention to Ricky‟s cock. He hooked three fingers around the base and raised it so it stood straight up, then released it. The fat, uncut dick slapped against Ricky‟s belly. Precum splattered from the head. Blake licked the underside of the shaft. Ricky squirmed and spread his legs. Blake opened his mouth, wrapped his lips around the head, and slowly, gently, began to suck. He took his time, forcing his jaw to relax, his throat taking more and more of Ricky‟s cock until eventually Blake had taken Ricky down to the balls. “Oh! Papi!” Ricky moaned. “Hmm.” Blake let up. “Papi. I like the sound of that. You can call me papi anytime you want, you hear?” Then he turned his attention back to Ricky‟s cock. Blake tugged at Ricky‟s balls with one hand and worked the hole with his index finger. “Oh fuck!” Ricky clutched at the sheets and threw his legs up, always the sign of a good submissive. Blake buried his face once more and ate Ricky out with a fervor he hadn‟t known he possessed. “Please, papi,” Ricky whispered after a while, when Blake stopped and reached for the lube and condom he‟d laid out earlier on the nightstand. “Just be gentle with me, okay? I don‟t get fucked a lot.”
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Blake smeared the lube over the head of his cock, fisted the shaft, then unrolled the condom over the throbbing length. Ricky helped, then leaned back and draped an arm over his eyes. Blake aimed at Ricky‟s entrance and watched as Ricky chewed his lower lip in anticipation. Blake pushed. Ricky groaned. Blake gradually worked his cock inside Ricky a little at a time until he was firmly entrenched, balls-deep in one of the most incredibly tight and intense bottoms he‟d ever had the pleasure of fucking. “Oh, Blake!” Ricky sighed loudly. “Take me. Use me. Make me yours! I want to belong to you.” Leaning forward, Blake muttered, “Then look at me. I want to look into your eyes as I make love to you.” Ricky obeyed. His dark brown eyes were like pools of melted chocolate, rich and inviting. They stared into each other‟s eyes as Blake pulled out almost to the tip and thrust back inside. Ricky‟s mouth turned into a quivering O. Blake felt his blood boil, and his cock throbbed even harder at the young man‟s submissiveness, surprisingly different from the aggressive way Ricky had behaved earlier—genuine, gentle, yet powerfully eager and hungry all at once. “You can do anything you want to me, Blake,” Ricky said under his breath. “Anything.” It was exhilarating to know Ricky had placed so much trust in Blake‟s hands. The knowledge made his head reel. It was like a fresh hit of poppers from a brandnew bottle. The thrill coursed through him and exploded in his belly. It spread to his balls, and he wondered what else he might do with the boy. What would he be willing to do? How far would they go? But that would have to wait. For now, he was going to make love to Ricky and show him what a man—a real man—could do to someone as luscious and hungry as Ricky. He was going to make sure the boy knew what he had been missing all his life. Ricky would know before dawn that no other man would ever fill him, use him, or make him come the way Blake would.
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“Such a good boy,” Blake muttered, and Ricky whimpered. “Sweet little pup.” Ricky‟s breath caught each time he thrust. Their gaze never wavered as, with each forward plunge, Ricky rose to meet Blake. Their rhythm increased, following the tempo of the music. Their body temperatures rose, and droplets of perspiration broke out on their skin. Blake could feel beads of sweat trickling down his back and just above Ricky‟s upper lip. He reached down and licked the salty drops off. Ricky‟s eyes opened wide with lust, and he moaned, then sucked on Blake‟s tongue. They continued, their bodies rising and falling, Blake‟s cock pumping in and out as Ricky‟s willing body took all of Blake as deeply as he could possibly go. Ricky‟s eyes rolled back in his head, and he bit on his lower lip when Blake thrust forward and corkscrewed, hitting his prostate. Ricky began to move faster, turning his head from side to side. Blake matched his speed. “My God! Oh my God! Blake!” But Blake held Ricky‟s face by the jaw and kept him in place. “Look at me!” Blake demanded, his voice hoarse with desire. “Only me. Into my eyes. I want to see your soul when I come inside you.” Ricky gasped and cried into the night at that very moment, his cock spurting all over his chest and his belly without his ever having touched himself. Blake felt the muscled ring of Ricky‟s sphincter clamp down on his shaft, milking him as he continued fucking. Blake trembled, and his heart beat much more loudly. The sensation on his cock was too great. “Ri…Rick…Ricky!” Blake managed. “Fuck. I‟m gonna… Oh my God!” “Oh, papi! Yes! Give it to me! I want it! I want it all!” Ricky moaned, his eyes still glued to Blake. “Anything and everything you have to give. I‟ll take it.” Ricky‟s heels dig into his ass and pulled him deeper inside as Blake came. His body convulsed, and he cried out like a wounded animal and fell on top of Ricky.
***
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The room was growing lighter. The music had stopped hours ago, and Blake lay on his back, looking out the window. He hadn‟t slept a wink. He‟d been too busy basking in the afterglow of their lust, in the feel, taste, and smell of Ricky that was now firmly and irrevocably scorched into his memory. Beside him, Ricky lay on his belly and slept like a baby. One leg was tossed casually over Blake‟s, and one arm was draped around his belly. As he drank in the contrast between their skin tones and the way the crisp white sheets made Ricky look even darker, an odd warmth filled Blake‟s heart. It was similar to the very first time he‟d held Bosco in his arms as a pup and he‟d fallen asleep. Trusting. Assured that no harm would come to him and that when he next awakened, Blake would still be there. A huge breath suddenly escaped him, and Blake thought his chest would explode from how wonderful it felt to be with Ricky. He longed to wrap both arms around Ricky, protect him from the Bills and Brunos of the world, let him know not all men were the same. His emotions surprised him. Blake wondered. Wasn‟t he running away himself? Hadn‟t he purposely built walls around his heart because he convinced himself that all men were like Bill? But is this really what love is? Wanting to take care of someone? Protect them? Give them things? Make them feel like they’re the most special person in the world? Blake pushed the thoughts aside and focused instead on the different positions they‟d fucked in after they first made love. The memory made his cock stir, as if happy to be in use again, even if it was sore and his balls ached from coming so much. But I’m alive! And wasn‟t that all that mattered in the end?
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Blake smiled, rolled over slightly, then cradled Ricky in his arms before rolling back and tracing the length of the boy‟s arm with his right-hand index finger. Ricky stirred. In the gray dawn, Blake looked into the deep brown pools that were Ricky‟s eyes and felt a small, barely audible gasp escape him. And what will you do when it‟s time to leave? a voice asked at the back of his mind. But Blake quashed it. That was weeks away, and anything could happen by then. “Morning,” Ricky said somewhat demurely. Then he smiled like a child who had just gotten everything he‟d wished for on Christmas morning.
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Chapter Eight Blake could tell Ricky was excited when he arrived for their date. It was two days after that night—that wonderful, glorious evening when he and Ricky had made love, then used each other repeatedly. Blake had offered to drive, but Ricky had insisted. “So where are we going?” Blake asked as he slid into the passenger seat of Ricky‟s red car and fastened his seat belt. “Community theater,” Ricky replied as he shifted gears and started driving. “Community theater?” Blake repeated in a sardonic tone. “Don‟t say it like that!” Ricky protested playfully as he pulled out of the driveway and hit the road. “These guys are good! Seriously. Besides, a friend of mine is in the show, and it‟s opening weekend. I like to go and show him my support.” “I dunno. I‟ve been to some community theater in New York, and it sucked balls. And not in a good way, I might add.” “Tell you what.” Ricky chuckled, then tossed Blake a sly look. Blake half expected him to purr. “If you don‟t like it, you can fuck me after the show.” “Hmm.” Blake turned and leaned into Ricky. He licked the young Latino‟s neck and nibbled on his earlobe. Then he spoke in a husky voice, remembering how wonderful it had felt to be in Ricky‟s arms. “I was kinda hoping to do that anyway.” Ricky stopped the car in the middle of the street and turned toward Blake. There was a lewd grin and an almost evil, mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oh you‟re gonna fuck me all right. But I‟m gonna fuck you first.”
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“Is that so?” “Uh-huh. Just wait. I‟ve got the entire evening all planned out. You‟re gonna be putty in my hands.” “I already am,” Blake said without thinking and then leaned forward and kissed Ricky fervently. Behind them, a car honked impatiently, pulling them out of their embrace. Ricky lowered the window, stuck his arm out, and waved them past. The car sped by with an obviously irritated driver behind the wheel. Ricky turned back to Blake. “What is it about you?” Ricky said, playing with the hair on Blake‟s neck. “What do you mean?” “Just look at what you do to me!” Ricky thrust his hips forward, his right foot still on the brake. Blake didn‟t say a word. He reached out with his right hand, cupped the hot, throbbing bulge, and squeezed. Ricky sucked air into his lungs through slightly parted lips. “Do we have time for a quickie?” Blake asked, his voice even huskier than before. Ricky looked at his wristwatch. “Fuck,” Ricky exclaimed. “Sorry, papi. We might be late as it is. But I‟m gonna hold you to that.” “I hope so.” Blake gave Ricky a final squeeze, then sat back. “You‟re a demon, Blake Hudson,” Ricky said with a sigh, and they sped up US 1, worming their way toward Flagler Drive and Sol Theater.
*** They parked across the street from a building that had once been a one-story, abandoned warehouse, now divided into three different buildings, each with its own private entrance and a roll-up back door. The performance space was a black-box
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theater, the love child of a dark, somewhat brooding, and inexplicably sensual man with thick, shaggy hair. “Heeeey, Ricky!” The man behind the window came around to offer hugs. He wore a tie-dyed T-shirt with various shades of purple and sported a Vandyke. “Hi, Robert!” Blake stepped back uncomfortably and waited for the bear hug to subside. “This the new boyfriend?” Robert asked, eyeing Blake with a raised eyebrow. “The one Angel and DJ Marc keep going on about?” Ricky chuckled in what sounded like an embarrassed tone and shook his head. Ricky seemed nervous. “This is my…friend,” Ricky explained. “Blake.” “How do you do, Blake?” Robert extended a hand, sized him up judging by the nonblinking glare, the unusually firm handshake and the tilt of the head. “Fine, thank you. Pleasure to meet you,” Blake replied and stood his ground. Height was on his side. Robert grinned, turned to Ricky, and slapped him on the back. “Pity. Go on in. I was just going to lock the door and get the show started.” Ricky pulled his wallet out. “Oh no!” Robert held a hand up. “It‟s opening night. You‟re comped. Besides, Angel covered it. Enjoy the show!” “Who‟s Angel?” Blake asked as they walked down the short, narrow corridor and stepped into the cozy theater. “Friend of mine. He‟s also one of the actors in the show,” Ricky explained, then led the way to the last two seats in a corner. “Oh. And what did Robert mean when he said „pity‟?” Blake asked once they settled in. “Dunno. All I know is that Robert never liked Bruno. Maybe he likes you,” Ricky mused as the lights went down and the theater darkened.
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*** Blake was the first on his feet applauding at the end of the show as the actors took their bows. Beside him, clapping just as enthusiastically, Ricky spoke through the side of his mouth. “I thought you didn‟t like community theater?” “Stuff it,” Blake replied with a wicked glance. Ricky smiled. Then the lights went up, the cast dispersed, and the audience slowly trickled out into the lobby. Blake was surprised when Ricky stopped him, and they got in line. “But I don‟t need to go to the… Ohh!” A few feet away Blake could see the troupe lined up, like a wedding party. They were shaking hands with members of the audience, some of whom were obviously reviewers. “Thank you so much for coming,” Robert said to one redheaded woman. “Glad you enjoyed the show.” “Oh my God! I didn‟t know you were in the audience!” a man in the cast exclaimed. Beside him, the only female in the cast hugged another patron, and they jumped up and down, squealing. “This is…odd,” Blake said softly in Ricky‟s ear. “In New York, you just walk out. Well, I do.” “But not if you know someone in the show, right?” Ricky sounded somewhat appalled. Blake laughed. “Usually I don‟t know anyone in the show. All I know are corporate execs.” Ricky shrugged and stepped up to a swarthy, curly-haired man with a wide, generous smile and deep-set blue-green eyes. The contrast against the tanned skin was startling. Blake watched as Ricky and the exotically handsome man hugged for what seemed much longer than necessary. When Blake cleared his throat, the man raised an eyebrow. He broke away from Ricky and turned to Blake. “Are you the new BF?” The man‟s voice was deep and gruff.
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What the fuck is this? Blake thought, noting the unpleasant glint in the man‟s glare. “What if I am?” Blake squared his shoulders for the second time that night and raised his chin. “No, no! Angel, this isn‟t… I mean, he‟s a friend. This is Blake. Remember I told you about him?” “Oh right!” Angel nodded with dawning recognition. “The out-of-towner.” He thrust his hand toward Blake and spoke in his natural voice, a lilting, soothing, and warm tone. “Sorry to grill you like that,” he said to Blake. “It‟s just that my little bro‟s been through some serious bullshit. I don‟t want to see him get hurt.” “Little brother?” “Well, not my real brother. Just…you know, my little bro!” Blake nodded and shook hands with Angel, uncertain of how to reply. Ricky pulled Blake away. They moved on to the next actor and continued down the line. Blake glanced over his shoulder and saw Angel practically sneering as he pointed to his eyes, then at Blake as if in warning. “This is DJ Marc,” Ricky tugged at Blake‟s arm and he turned his attention to a short, beefy man with a beard and inquisitive eyes. They shook hands. “Coming to Boom, Ricky? Cast party. I‟ll be spinning.” DJ Marc addressed Blake with a dramatic sigh; then he smiled. “We always invite Ricky plus one, but he always declines.” Blake couldn‟t help but feel that he was being compared to Ricky‟s ex by Marc and the others he‟d been introduced to. They weren‟t cold, but they hadn‟t exactly welcomed with open arms either. It was almost as if they were holding their breath, expecting Blake to fuck up and hurt Ricky, break his heart. As if I would ever do that on purpose. Still, you are leaving, a voice whispered, taunting. You are going to hurt him!
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“Thank you,” Blake said graciously, putting on his warmest smile. The one that was somewhat flirty yet innocent, the one that always got his clients to sign on the dotted line. “I‟d be honored,” Blake added and took Ricky‟s hand in his. DJ Marc grinned from ear to ear, grabbed Blake‟s face, and pecked him on the lips. Surprised, Blake blinked a few times and forced himself to keep the smile on his face, fighting the impulse to wipe the back of his hand across his lips. He wasn‟t accustomed to such openness. Once outside, Blake wrapped an arm around Ricky and pulled him close. He gave Ricky a kiss on the temple as they silently made their way up the street, toward the car. They had parked around the curve near a storage facility since there had been little space on the grass immediately across from the theater. “So what did you think?” Ricky asked after a while. “About the show, the grilling, or the lineup?” Ricky burst out laughing. “I‟m sorry. I should‟ve warned you about them. It‟s cool, though, right? I mean, they didn‟t make you feel too uncomfortable I hope. They‟re my friends, and they know what I‟ve been through with Bruno. I guess they don‟t want to see me get hurt.” “Frankly I feel like I got the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval. From Marc at least,” Blake joked. “I mean, he kissed me!” “Marc kisses everyone.” “I understand their concern for you.” Blake released Ricky and held his hand. Their fingers intertwined. “I just wish I had friends like that.” “What about Derrick? And that other lady you mentioned—Patty?” “Yeah, I guess we‟re friends. Not like this. Derrick is… Well, no. Never mind. Yeah. I guess we are friends. But definitely nothing like this!”
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“Oh, I don‟t know about that,” Ricky said. “Seems to me that if they weren‟t your friends, they wouldn‟t have whisked you down here the way they did.” Blake grunted. “How did you get hooked up with these guys, anyway?” Blake stopped and turned to Ricky. They had gotten to the car and stood at the passenger side. “Robert was my drama professor at school.” “I didn‟t know you could act!” “I can‟t! That‟s why Angel‟s onstage and I‟m not.” “I think he likes you,” Blake teased as Ricky unlocked the door and opened it. “Who? Robert?” “No. Angel.” Ricky lowered his gaze and snorted with a wistful look. “When I was in high school, me and my buddies would drive up here from Miami to sneak into the clubs. I met Angel when I was seventeen. I had a serious case of puppy love for a while.” “I can see why. He‟s very good-looking.” “Yeah, he is,” Ricky agreed. Then he looked back at Blake. “But you know what?” Blake shrugged and shook his head. “He‟s just my older bro. That‟s all.” Blake sucked air sharply into his lungs as Ricky shot him the melting smile. Blake leaned forward and kissed Ricky on the lips tenderly. Then he pulled back and felt as if a part of his soul swirled into the deep, dark depths of Ricky‟s round brown eyes. Neither of them said anything. Then Ricky jumped. “What is it?” Blake asked, straining to hear. There was a clanging in the distance and the sound of something that was like rolling thunder.
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“The train! It‟s coming.” “So? What‟s the big deal about a train?” “Just get in! You‟ll see.” They jumped into Ricky‟s car, and Blake started to fasten the seat belt. “Don‟t bother,” Ricky said as he turned the engine over. “What?” “We‟re only going to get back out again,” Ricky explained as he gunned the engine. The car shot forward, and they raced around the corner. Ricky stopped suddenly in a grassy area across the street from the now-empty theater. “Where are we going?” Blake asked in the dark as he stepped out of the car and cautiously followed Ricky. “Did you ever see the movie Cabaret?” Ricky asked as he carefully made his way down the ditch. “No,” Blake called out and felt himself slipping. Gravel slid out from beneath his feet, and Blake thought he would topple. But he caught himself at the last minute and stood beside Ricky, slightly peeved. In the distance, Blake could see a light. There was a vibration in his chest, and the rumbling grew louder as the train approached. “What the hell are we doing here?” Blake demanded. “In the movie, Sally Bowles pulls Brian underneath the El, then screams her lungs out.” “So? What for?” “I dunno. It just feels good. C‟mon. Here it comes. Take my hand. Okay,” Ricky squeezed his fingers and spoke even louder, as the train was nearly upon them. “Take a deep breath! And just…” Blake didn‟t hear the rest. He only knew that he felt as if he had gotten caught up in some sort of primal urge. He took a deep breath, opened his mouth, and screamed without knowing why or what he would get out of it.
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And he kept on screaming as the train continued to roll, trying to be louder than the train. Something happened in Blake‟s mind that he couldn‟t put his finger on. In that split second, as time whirled past and earth spun on its axis, as the universe continued to expand and the freight train rumbled by, screaming felt like a release. It made him feel insignificant yet powerful at the same time. Memories of his mother, beaten and crying, popped into his mind. She morphed into his father and then into Bill. Then Blake saw himself, as if through the eyes of someone else, as he had the heart attack. As he fell, as he faded.
As the last of the train whooshed past, Blake found himself breathing heavily. His lungs ached and his heart raced, but he felt as if he‟d gone away somewhere and was surprised to be back. Beside him, Ricky squeezed his hand. “So? Was it good for you?” Without a word, Blake pulled roughly at Ricky and brought him close. He held the young man in his arms, brushing and pressing his lips against Ricky‟s. Their hard cocks ground together, and they were like animals as they struggled back to the grassy area where they‟d left the car. In front of the car, they kissed and wrestled, each trying to dominate the other. Blake knew Ricky wanted to fuck him, but with the way he was feeling, there was no way in hell. “Not this time, son. I‟m older, bigger, and stronger than you.” Ricky sighed. An odd sound gurgled in his throat, and his body seemed to weaken. His eyes rolled back as Blake forced him down onto the hood of the car, yanked his shirt up, and worked at his zipper. Ricky tried to help, but Blake slapped his hands away. He worked the jeans down Ricky‟s muscled thighs and sank to his knees. Blake buried his face between
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Ricky‟s legs, just beneath his balls. He inhaled the musky scent, and it was like lights firing in his brain. Blake grunted, opened his mouth, and lapped at Ricky‟s balls, the insides of his thighs. He clutched at Ricky‟s legs and moved slightly higher. He encircled the head of the already thick, drooling, and throbbing cock with his lips. Ricky groaned as Blake worked his mouth up and down the shaft. Blake felt Ricky‟s fingers in his hair, and he was only goaded to go deeper, his lips at the base, his teeth nibbling, his left hand tugging at the fat, round, almost hairless balls while jerking himself off. “Oh, Blake! I‟m gonna…” “Like hell you will!” Blake stood, releasing Ricky‟s cock. He clutched at the front of the boy‟s shirt then spun him around in one deft move. Ricky grunted as Blake slammed him once more onto the hood. Blake dropped back to his knees, cupped Ricky‟s buns, slapped them with his palm, and then backhanded them. All the while Ricky just moaned and sighed, pushing his ass back farther. Blake spread Ricky‟s cheeks apart and dived tongue first into the tightly puckered ring. Like a greedy pig, Blake lapped, licked, and rubbed his entire face in the crack of Ricky‟s ass. It was in a way as if he was marking himself with Ricky‟s essence. As if this way he would never forget the young man‟s scent. His musk. Boyfriend! a voice fired at the back of Blake‟s mind. “Yesssss,” Blake hissed and dived again, nibbling lightly at the rosebud. Ricky groaned and thrust his ass toward Blake. “Fuck me!” Ricky cried. Blake stood, unzipped, and fished his cock out. Hurriedly, he pulled on a prelubed condom, rubbed the head up and down and spit on the entrance. Ricky cried out and pulled away slightly when Blake penetrated him.
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“Oh no you don‟t,” Blake growled, grabbed Ricky by the hips, and held him close as he continued to work the entire length inside Ricky. Ricky grunted and slammed his fist on the hood. Then Blake stood perfectly still, letting Ricky get used to the pressure. Soon, Ricky was mewling and whimpering. “Oh, fuck!” He moved his head from side to side. “Yeah,” Blake replied. “Fuck!” Blake pulled out until slowly then slammed his cock back inside Ricky, filling him completely, entirely, balls-deep. The tightness, the rawness, and the thrill of being caught spurred him on. Blake pumped in and out of Ricky with a ferocious appetite he‟d never felt before, as Ricky braced himself and took it. “Oh, oh, ohh! Blake! Papi!” “Yeah, boy? You ready? You gettin‟ close?” Blake muttered. “I‟m gonna… I‟m gonna…” Ricky blurted as if out of breath. “Oh fuck! Oh fuck!” Blake growled. “Come!” they both shouted simultaneously. Blake collapsed onto Ricky‟s back. He could feel the light sheen of perspiration as it cemented them together in the cool night air. Beneath him, Ricky chugged, shook, and moaned softly until they both regained their composure. “People,” Ricky suddenly warned with a whisper. As if nothing had ever happened, Blake casually pulled out and Ricky whistled sharply. “Sorry!” Blake apologized as he zipped himself back up. “‟S‟okay,” Ricky whispered and yanked his pants up. By the time the pedestrians sidled past, Blake and Ricky were as put together as they had been in the theater. They slid into Ricky‟s car, and laughed as a police car slowly cruised by minutes later.
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Chapter Nine Blake rolled over in bed, expecting to throw his right leg over Ricky. He wanted to wrap an arm around Ricky‟s waist and pull him close and into his morning erection for a repeat performance. Only he wasn‟t there. Then Blake remembered. Ricky had booked early morning appointments close to home and left to spend the night at his place. Beside him, Bosco whimpered, licked at his face, and put a paw on his cheek. “Good morning to you too! Just gimme a minute.” Blake‟s voice was throaty with sleep. “Daddy‟s just waking up.” The dog leaped off the bed and bound for the closed bedroom door. He whimpered more loudly, scratched at the tile floor, and sniffed at the gap. “Okay, okay. I‟m up,” Blake muttered, stretched, and yawned as he sat up. What the hell is happening? It had been more than a week and a half since his first date with Ricky, and not a day had gone by that they didn‟t see each other. On nights when Ricky was free, Blake found himself staying up through dawn just to be with the beautiful Latino—have sex, talk, then have more sex. On nights when Ricky wasn‟t able to stay over, Blake would wake up early, but not nearly as early as he used to. Fort Lauderdale was definitely having an effect on him. The timing was off here. It was as if it ran to a different clock, one that was a beat slower than the world Blake was used to. It would be a difficult adjustment when he got back to New York. Sadly, the one suffering the most was Bosco. Although he got more attention with two men playing with and pampering him, he nonetheless was thrown off his
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routine. The dog‟s usual habit of early-morning walk, kibble, then another walk a little while later had changed dramatically. Blake cast a glance at Bosco, who sat by the door. “Poor baby. I bet you can‟t wait to get back to New York, huh?” As if to answer, Bosco whimpered and licked his chops. That was when Blake noticed the music. “What the…?” It was coming from downstairs. Outside. Had Ricky stayed last night after all? Blake rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, then walked to the window. He looked down, but all he could see was a pair of tiny feet, bopping back and forth to a loud pop song. Definitely not Ricky. Panic struck Blake, especially when a voice screeched in an attempt to match the performer in a song Blake didn‟t know and didn‟t care to recognize. Without thinking, Blake pulled on the first and only thing he could reach: his boxers. He then hurried to the bedroom door and yanked it open. Bosco ran to the elevator ahead of him. The dog stood on his hind legs and hit the call button with his paw, a trick Ricky had taught him and one Blake was sure he‟d regret once they got back to New York. He could already imagine Bosco hitting the call button at home for every little thing. On the main floor, Blake hurried out of the elevator with Bosco trotting alongside him. “What the fuck? Who the hell are you?” Blake exclaimed when he opened the sliding-glass door and stepped onto the patio. Bosco barked, then growled. Blake held him back. A waiflike twink jumped suddenly from the chaise wearing only a pair of sunglasses on his head and a worried expression. He tried to cover himself with his hands.
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“Well? Speak up! Who are you? Or do you want me to call the cops?” “I…I…” the boy started, then squealed and ran. Bosco broke away from Blake‟s grip and bolted toward the boy, who panicked and jumped headfirst into the canal. Bosco remained near the edge, nervously pacing back and forth and barking. Blake thought that any minute he‟d have to jump in after the dog. “Bosco!” Blake hollered. He approached and grabbed the chocolate Lab by the collar. He pulled Bosco away, led him inside, and then closed the glass door. Under any other circumstance, it would have been funny. In fact, there was a part of Blake that found the boy somewhat comical. But Blake didn‟t need this type of disruption. “All right,” Blake demanded from the edge of the patio. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?” “I‟m Trey,” the boy said, treading water. “I‟m Derrick‟s houseboy.” “His houseboy?” Blake scoffed, his hands on his hips. In the years he‟d known Derrick, he‟d never heard of such a thing. “Yeah. I come every few weeks. Clean. Check the place out, you know. Stuff like that. He lets me use his place to sunbathe sometimes. I swear. I‟m no thief. Not like the last one. Wh-what? What are you doing?” Blake turned his back on Trey and went back into the house, struggling to keep Bosco inside. Blake ran up the stairs for his iPhone and dialed the office number as he made his way down the circular stairs. “Baby, Jane, and Hudson,” a fresh, lush voice answered in a lilting tone. New receptionist? Blake wondered as stepped back out again. He left the sliding-glass door wide open. “Derrick, please. Derrick Jane.” “I‟m sorry, sir. Mr. Jane is…” “This is Blake Hudson. I don‟t care what he‟s doing. Just get me Derrick. Now!” Blake hollered, and a split second later music greeted his ear. He watched closely as Trey continued to tread water. He wasn‟t a bad-looking thing. Cute. Too
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slim for his taste, but he had a nice ass. Smooth. A brunet with blond-frosted tips. Brown eyes. Typical stripper look. Blake never suspected Derrick would have gone for the sort. “Blake?” Derrick came to the phone, his voice rushed and nervous. “What‟s wrong?” “Derrick! Why didn‟t you tell me about—” “Can I please get out of the water now?” Trey called out. “Oh! Thank goodness. I thought something was wrong. Guess you met Trey, huh?” Derrick mused. “Yeah. Thanks for telling me about him. Scared the shit out of me!” Blake countered. “Sorry, sport. I totally forgot.” “Forgot, forgot? Or conveniently forgot?” Blake walked toward the edge of the patio and tugged at Bosco‟s collar. Blake pulled the dog away and held him tight. Derrick laughed. Blake shook his head in disbelief, his anger dissipating. “Christ, Derrick! You should have told me. I thought he was a—I dunno—a squatter or…something. I could have gotten him in a lot of trouble if I called the cops.” “Sorry, champ. I thought maybe he‟d be good for a little fun. You know. Distract you and keep you from thinking about work while you‟re down there.” “I have enough distractions, thank you very much,” Blake replied, unaware he was smiling as he thought of Ricky. Then he realized no one up there knew. Blake tried to imagine their faces if things got any more serious between him and Ricky. “So, how‟s Fort Lauderdale? Are you having fun?” Blake suddenly got the feeling something was wrong. Derrick always changed subjects abruptly when he was under fire.
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“I‟m fine,” Blake said, feeling a tug of guilt that he wasn‟t at the office. All that work. The frantic pace, the calls, the e-mails. His new client. A part of him missed the frenzy. And yet there was a new sensation, one Blake hadn‟t felt before. Or if he had, he didn‟t remember. It was one of dread. “What‟s wrong?” His stomach turn into knots and wasn‟t sure if he was more afraid of hearing what he already suspected or of returning to New York without Ricky. “Wrong? Nothing‟s wrong! What could be wrong? Why do you ask that? So silly, Blaker!” Derrick laughed. “Blaker? Listen, Derrick—” Blake started, but his partner cut him off. “Good, good! Everybody‟s fine. Gotta go! Harte‟s on the other line.” Blake heard splashing behind him and turned to see Trey trying to get back onto the patio. “How‟s that going? He can be a bit demanding at times, you know.” Blake swallowed. “Great! Now you tell me!” Derrick laughed and hung up. Blake looked at his phone, stunned. He didn‟t like the tone in Derrick‟s voice. There had been a certain annoyance in his partner‟s laugh. Was something wrong with the account? “Uh, hello? A little help here?” Trey called out. Blake looked up, feeling troubled, and nudged Bosco inside the house. He slid the door closed, then walked to the seawall. Blake placed his phone on the brick wall, knelt, and reached for Trey with both hands. He pulled and stood at the same time, yanking Trey out of the water in one motion. Trey let out a yelp of surprise as Blake nearly lost his balance. He stepped back with one leg to support their weight and grasped at the boy‟s wet, naked body, his hands firmly about Trey‟s waist. “Hm, you’re nice and strong,” Trey said, wrapping his arms about Blake‟s neck.
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Blake felt the boy press against him, felt the water on his flesh, and was suddenly uncomfortably—aware of Trey‟s nakedness, their closeness, and now his very wet boxers. “Uh no. Not a good idea,” Blake said and gently tried to push Trey away. But the boy held on fast. “Aw, c‟mon! It could be loads of fun.” “I‟d like you to put your clothes back on and leave.” Blake grabbed Trey by his wrists, slipped the boy‟s arms from his neck, and stepped back. “How come? You Derrick‟s boyfriend or something?” “What? No! Why the hell does everybody think that? I am not his boyfriend!” “Oh, goodie!” Trey grinned eagerly and threw himself at Blake, all arms and legs. Blake had the mental image of an octopus wrapping itself around him. The sliding-glass door abruptly flew open. Bosco bounded out, and Trey jumped up into Blake‟s arms. Blake spun around with Trey clinging to his neck and saw Ricky standing there, legs spread, hands on hips. A pair of sunglasses covered his eyes. “Ricky!” Blake exclaimed and hurriedly put Trey down. The twink ran off, brushed past Ricky, and scurried into the house only seconds before Bosco nipped at his ankles. “Well…” Ricky folded his arms across his chest. “That was quite a sight.” Blake realized how it must have looked. “No, no, Ricky. It‟s not like that.” Blake shook his head and laughed. “That little twerp is Derrick‟s houseboy.” Blake stepped toward Ricky and reached for him, but Ricky remained firm. “Is he now?” Blake felt Ricky‟s glare from behind the shades and felt uncomfortable quite suddenly. He‟d heard about the infamous Latin temper. Blake swallowed hard.
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“Listen, Ricky,” Blake started. “And what did I hear about you not being my boyfriend?” “What?” Boyfriend? Blake thought. And even though they were arguing, a part of him smiled. He liked hearing it. “Ricky, I swear. That was nothing. He jumped into the water when Bosco came out with me, and I just fished him out.” “Who is he?” Ricky asked again. Blake didn‟t like staring at his reflection in Ricky‟s glasses. But what was that just beneath the rim? “He‟s…uh…Trey,” Blake answered calmly. “And what is he doing here? Naked?” “He…uh… I don‟t really know,” Blake said and wondered. Was it normal for pool boys, houseboys, or whatever they were called to just strip naked and sun themselves? But then again, it was Fort Lauderdale. Blake had so far seen a few things he wouldn‟t have expected to see elsewhere, not even Manhattan. And why wasn‟t Ricky taking off his sunglasses? “He‟s one of Derrick‟s little—” But Ricky didn‟t let him finish. Instead he raised an eyebrow and turned. Blake couldn‟t help but notice Ricky was walking stiffly. “Ricky, wait,” Blake called out. “What‟s wrong with you?” “Nothing,” Ricky spat in a tone dripping with distaste. Blake grabbed Ricky by the left arm, around his bulging tricep. He‟d only meant to stop him, but the younger man winced and jerked away as if he had been burned. “Ow! That hurt!” Ricky rubbed himself. “I‟m sorry.” Blake stepped back. “I didn‟t mean to…” Ricky raised the sleeve of his green polo shirt and let out a gasp of surprise. Blake‟s eyes widened. “Ricky…I… That couldn‟t have been… I didn‟t…did I?” Blake stammered, his heart filled with dread for the second time that day. Then he noticed the tears
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trailing down Ricky‟s cheeks. Ricky‟s lower lip trembled, and his throat worked rapidly, his Adam‟s apple bobbing up and down as he obviously tried to fight the emotion welling within him. “Ricky?” Blake moved cautiously, reaching for Ricky‟s face. Ricky‟s nostrils flare as he jerked back abruptly—almost as if he was afraid he would be hit—and he was surprised at the worry, concern, and anger that welled through him. This had Bruno written all over it. Blake could smell it. Ricky took a step back, his head lowered. He seemed to think, then slowly lifted his hands to his face. He pulled at the sides of his sunglasses and looked up at Blake. Their gazes locked, and in that moment Blake knew. Ricky flung himself at Blake and wrapped his arms tightly around Blake‟s upper body. Blake cradled him. “What happened?” Blake asked, placing a hand at the back of Ricky‟s head and stroking gently. “Nuh…nuh,” Ricky started, sputtered, then, “Nothing.” “Bullshit!” Blake pulled back, vaguely aware Bosco was still somewhere nearby. “You don‟t get a bruise on your arm like that just by putting on your clothes. What happened?” “Do you really have to ask?” Bosco came up to them, sat at their feet, and scratched first at Blake, then at Ricky. Ricky pulled away from Blake and chuckled. He petted Bosco, and the dog flopped onto his side, exposing his belly. Ricky knelt down to nuzzle him. “Can I get my stuff now?” Trey asked. “Yeah, go. Then get out,” Blake said in a quiet yet forceful tone. “And don‟t come back until Derrick is here.”
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Blake watched Trey out of the corner of his eyes as he walked to the chaise and hurriedly picked up his stuff. Then, with his skimpy clothes in one hand clutched to his thin, flat chest and a small boom box in the other, Trey came up to them. Bosco barked from where he lay, but Ricky calmed him by patting his belly. “I‟m really sorry. I didn‟t mean to cause any trouble,” the boy said, his attention on Ricky. “I just wanted to get a little sun is all. Nothing happened between your boyfriend and me.” Ricky stood and reacted as if he‟d been slapped. “Blake isn‟t—” Ricky started. “Thanks, Trey.” Blake nodded, placing a hand on Ricky‟s shoulder. “You move along. Sorry if I was a prick to you.” Trey gave them a weak smile then turned and walked away. At the door, he stopped. “By the way, I‟d keep this one if I were you,” Trey called out. “That other one sounds like a real asshole.” He pointed a finger at Ricky‟s eye, turned once more, and disappeared. Bosco escorted him out.
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Chapter Ten “So, you want to tell me what happened?” Blake said after Trey left. Ricky let out a heavy sigh. He stepped away from Blake, looked out over the water, and spoke quietly. “Bruno happened.” “Bruno? I thought you guys were being…cordial?” “So did I,” Ricky replied absentmindedly. He rubbed his arm. “But when I was leaving this morning, he stopped me and…” Ricky grew silent. “And?” Blake prodded. Ricky took a huge gulp of air and let it out. He turned to Blake, looked him in the eye. “He accused me of cheating on him. Called me a cheap whore, then demanded to know who you were.” “What?” Blake exclaimed, stunned. “That was my reaction.” “I don‟t understand. How does Bruno know about me? And wasn‟t it you who walked in on him?” “Yeah. With my best friend. Well, ex-BFF. But Bruno seems to have conveniently forgotten that.” “I don‟t understand. Where exactly do I fit into this drama?” Blake asked, unsure if he should be angry or excited that someone else was jealous of him. “What do I have to do with anything?”
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“Apparently he‟s under the delusion that I‟ve been seeing you behind his back and insists that‟s why he started fucking Jonah.” “Really?” Ricky shrugged. “I think it‟s the steroids.” “Fuck the steroids,” Blake snapped. “Bill didn‟t take any, and he behaved the same way toward me. That‟s just a cheap and easy excuse, Ricky. Don‟t fall into that trap. Trey‟s right.” “What do you mean?” “Bruno‟s an…” Blake stopped himself when he saw the look of shame in Ricky‟s eyes. He understood what he must be feeling. Blake remembered the hurtful things others had said about Bill and the way he‟d felt for letting them happen. He thought and chewed on his lower lip while changing tactics. “I‟m sorry, Ricky. You might not see it now, but Bruno…needs help. And so do you. You have to get out of there.” “I‟m working on it, Blake. It‟s just not that easy. The apartment, the furniture—it‟s all his. And do you have any idea how much people are asking for rent?” Ricky sat on the chaise and buried his face in his hands. Blake sat beside him. “Does it still look bad?” Ricky asked. “I‟ve seen worse.” “You should have seen it this morning,” Ricky said heavily. “What did your massage clients say?” “Nothing. I told them I was hungover.” “They bought it?” “Most people don‟t ask questions when you massage them. It‟s all about them.” They sat in silence. Blake knew he shouldn‟t ask, yet his curiosity got the better of him.
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“How did you get the bruises on your arm?” “Bruno grabbed me as I was trying to get into my car.” “He must have gripped you pretty hard,” Blake mused. “You should see the size of him,” Ricky answered. “He was a body builder. He used to compete professionally. Definitely what you might call a bruiser. Anyway, I tried to pull away, but he just held on even tighter—which really hurt! So I swung at him.” “You what?” “He let me go at least. But not before punching me in the stomach.” “Ricky!” “I was so stunned. I never expected him to do that to me. I knew he was quicktempered, and I‟ve seen him practically wipe the floor with any guy who looked at me cross-eyed when we went out, but…I never expected… I think that‟s what hurt the most. That, and falling to my knees.” “What do you mean?” “When he punched me in the stomach. He knocked the wind out of me. Oh. And FYI? Getting punched in the stomach is painful! I was in so much pain I dropped to my knees. I was in so much pain I couldn‟t breathe. And you know what the son of a bitch did then?” “You mean after he knocked you in the face?” Blake found himself seething with anger. “Motherfucker walked away. He just…walked away.” Ricky shook his head as if he couldn‟t believe it. “I just wish…” Ricky started, then stopped. “Never mind. It doesn‟t matter. It‟s over, and I have to get out. I‟ll do it this weekend. I‟ll put my stuff in storage, make a few calls to some friends, and see if I can stay with them until I can find my own place.” Ricky laughed. “I‟m sorry. I didn‟t come here for this. I really needed to see you. I need you to hold me.”
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Blake wrapped his arms protectively around Ricky‟s shoulders. He vowed to himself that if he ever laid eyes on Bruno, he would knock him out. The more he thought about it, visualized it, the angrier he became and the more he wanted to experience plowing his fist into the man‟s face. “Do you have a picture of this Bruno? I‟d like to know what he looks like so that if I‟m ever unfortunate enough to meet him, I can punch him where it counts.” Blake spoke quietly, controlling his anger, but inside, he knew he needed to hit something. Maybe go for a jog and burn off the steam seething within. “What is it about you that gets me this way?” “What do you mean?” “I shouldn‟t even be thinking of sex right now, but I can‟t help it. Every time you touch me I get hard.” Ricky leaned back and shoved his hips forward. Blake looked at his erection. “Maybe that‟s ‟cause you‟re a horny little fucker?” Blake said jokingly. “Yeah, I guess.” Ricky shrugged, a twinkle in his eye once more. “It has nothing to do with the fact that you‟re a hot, handsome stud I can‟t seem to get enough of.” Blake grinned. “I know this probably isn‟t the right time, but my last client called and canceled on me. I have some time before the next one. I thought maybe we could…” “I like the sound of that,” Blake muttered, surprised to find himself aroused even after everything Ricky had told him. “But I didn‟t finish,” Ricky protested. “Doesn‟t matter. I‟m up for anything with you. See for yourself.” Blake‟s cock was already hard and poking through the fly in his boxers. Ricky glanced toward the yacht. “Let‟s go up there. I‟ve been wanting to do you as my captain on that deck.”
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Blake stood and took Ricky‟s hand. They walked to the deck, climbed on board, and without regard to who might be watching, Ricky started to drop to his knees. “No, baby.” Blake stopped Ricky and pointed to the cushioned, built-in seating. Ricky put on his sunglasses and sat down as Blake dropped his boxers and stood naked on the deck. Ricky opened his mouth and wrapped his lips around the head of Blake‟s cock. “Someone‟s watching,” Blake whispered and grunted. But Ricky merely moaned, whipped his dick out, and began to jerk off as he greedily swallowed Blake down to the balls. Blake threw his head back and sighed, enjoying the way the sun felt on his bare flesh, relishing in watching the man next door as he squirmed. Blake looked down and groaned at the sight of Ricky‟s lips around the base of his shaft. Even the sunglasses Ricky wore gave the experience an anonymous element Blake found immensely gratifying. He grabbed the back of Ricky‟s head and started to pump. Slow at first, then faster, his balls swaying back and forth, slapping Ricky on the chin. Ricky grabbed hold of them in one warm hand and tugged. Blake growled. He could taste the salty sheen of sweat beginning to build on his upper lip as he continued to pump his cock in and out of Ricky‟s mouth. Then, unable to hold back, Blake groaned. “Fuck!” he cried and came in Ricky‟s mouth. The sexy young Latino slurped noisily as he swallowed every drop. Seconds later, Ricky also shot his load. It splattered on the deck between Blake‟s feet while his lips were still firmly wrapped around the base of Blake‟s softening cock. Ricky stood with some difficulty. Blake helped him up and looked at him, conflicted with emotion as he watched Ricky wipe his mouth with the back of his hand and glanced at the house next door. “You okay?” Blake asked.
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“Yeah, papi. I‟m fine.” Blake pulled Ricky close and held him. He didn‟t want to let him go and wished he could invite Ricky to stay with him. With Bosco. Not just in this house together—forever. He had begun to see himself and Ricky in ways he hadn‟t thought possible after Bill. Funny how one heart attack can change your life. “What? Show‟s over?” the elderly man called out. Blake and Ricky laughed as they climbed off the boat and disappeared into the house.
At the front door, Blake kissed Ricky deeply, passionately, tasting his cum on Ricky‟s tongue. “I‟d better go, or I‟ll be late for my next appointment.” Ricky spoke softly as he broke away. It felt to Blake as if neither of them wanted to separate. They had grown close over the last week and a half—remarkably close—and Blake wondered what would happen when the time came for him to leave and go back home. His emotions for Ricky had grown tremendously. He still wasn‟t sure if what he felt was love. He knew only that when he was with Ricky, he felt good—happy and complete and even satisfied. Ricky hadn‟t mentioned anything. Neither of them had. And yet it hung over them like the shadow of death, drawing ever closer. Sooner or later they would have to talk about it, and Blake wasn‟t sure it would wait until the last minute. “Don‟t you think you should go see a doctor or something?” “What for? He‟s only going to tell me to ice the eye, take some painkillers if I need them, and get plenty of rest, blah, blah, blah.” “So I take it this means we‟re still on for lunch?” Blake asked. “Yeah. Courtyard Café on Wilton Drive. Across from Boom.” “Where your friend DJ Marc was playing, right?”
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“That‟s the one. See you then,” Ricky smiled. For a moment, it looked as if Ricky would say something else, but then he changed his mind completely. Instead he gave Blake a peck on the lips, and just like that, Ricky was gone. Blake stood, looking at the door as if Ricky would come walking back any minute. When he didn‟t, Blake turned and headed for the patio, his mind a jumble of confused thought and emotions. Why had his heart swelled up so when Trey called him Ricky‟s boyfriend? And why had he been so overcome with the urge to bash Bruno‟s face in when Ricky told him what had happened? If only I’d been there! If only I’d made Ricky stay last night. None of this would have ever happened. But relationships weren‟t like that, he reminded himself. They weren‟t about telling someone what to do, bossing them around so they did exactly as you wanted. He‟d already been on the receiving end and knew how it felt. No. Relationships are about trust. They were about giving and taking, sacrificing and sharing. They were about letting the other person be themselves and being able to communicate with each other. But they were also about giving each other the freedom to make your own decisions, to talk about the things that would affect you both, and allowing each other to grow. Mostly, though, they were about being with the one person you wanted most in the world. To spend the rest of your life with the one you wanted to grow old with. The one you knew would take care of you and see you through both good and bad. The one for whom you would give up everything, even die for. The problem was: what did you do about your emotions when the one you wanted was still in school, fifteen years younger, and living in a different state, sixteen hundred miles away? If only he had someone to talk with, gather his thoughts together and get things off his chest. But there was no one, really. No one who would understand
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what he was trying to say. Derrick was a nice guy but not exactly emotionally available. Patty would listen, but then she‟d proceed to tell him every practical reason in the world why a long-distance relationship would never work. Then Rosemary popped into Blake‟s mind. Dear, sweet, and wonderful Rosemary, who had been so willing to help. So giving of herself. Unpolished Rosemary from Brooklyn, who had the biggest heart of anyone Blake had ever known, only he hadn‟t realized it until now. He suddenly missed her very much and needed to hear her voice. If anyone would understand what he was going through, she would. If anyone would be able to help him sort his feelings out, she would. But where was his damn phone? Blake stood out on the patio and looked around. Bosco paced back and forth along the seawall, whimpering at an iguana. Blake hadn‟t seen any others since that morning after they‟d arrived in Fort Lauderdale. Then he spotted the phone, just a few short feet away from an iguana Bosco was pacing after. Blake had forgotten he‟d left it on the ledge when he helped Trey out of the water. “That was stupid,” Blake muttered as he snatched the phone. He went to dial Rosemary, but just as he started, a call came through. “Hello?” Blake answered, not recognizing the number. “Blake?” “Rosemary!” Blake exclaimed. “What a coincidence. I was just thinking of you!” Suddenly the sky seemed bluer, the breeze was balmier and Blake‟s heart felt lighter. It was as if his very spirit had plugged into something he‟d always known existed but had never experienced before. “Were you really?” She chuckled nervously. “Yeah! But I didn‟t recognize the number. Did you change it?”
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“Oh, God. You have no idea, Blake. My ex kept calling me at all hours of the night and harassing me so I—never mind that.” Rosemary stopped, her voice filled with anxiety. “I‟m really sorry to bother you. I know I‟m not supposed to. Patty and Derrick would kill me if they knew.” “What is it, Roe? What‟s wrong?” The happy, buoyant feeling was immediately dashed. “Derrick—he blew up at Harte.” “What? Why?” “I dunno.” “Well, what did he say?” “I‟m sorry. I wasn‟t there. Patty and I were going over some details on a presentation we‟re pitching tomorrow, when we heard Derrick yelling. Then Harte hollered back, and by the time Patty and I came out of the conference room to see what was going on, Harte was already in the hallway.” “Jesus fucking Christ!” “Patty ran out after him. You know, to try to find out what happened, but…I dunno, hon. He didn‟t look too happy when he stormed away with Patty.” Blake didn‟t know what to say. He was stunned and torn at how reality had a way of biting him in the ass. “I think… I know how hard you worked for that account, Blake. Maybe you should call him? Talk him down from the ledge? I‟m really sorry. I thought you‟d wanna know.” Blake sighed slowly and quite heavily. He closed his eyes and tried to remain calm. But the truth was that a band had already settled around his chest. Was this really what he wanted? Was this much aggravation worth the money? Everything had been going so well down here in Fort Lauderdale with Ricky, the possibility of a new boyfriend.
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The time had come to make a decision. It was time to talk, and he was afraid of what the answer would be. He could only hope.
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Chapter Eleven Ricky talked animatedly while they sat at the Courtyard Café, waiting for their lunch. Ricky wore his sunglasses. “I‟m so sorry I mistrusted you this morning, Blake. I guess everything that happened with Bruno was still fresh in my mind. But I‟m okay now. Well…I‟m better. I called Angel, and he said I could stay with him as long as I need to! Isn‟t that great?” Blake couldn‟t help the sharp pang of jealousy that stabbed at his heart. “Are you sure Angel is the best choice? I mean, I got the feeling Marc could really use the help.” “Marc offered too, but he lives in a one-bedroom. Angel has a spare room.” “You know, if it‟s money you need, I can—” Blake started, but Ricky cut him off. “No. Thank you. I appreciate the offer, but I won‟t take money from you. I don‟t want money to come between us or have you feel like you have to buy my affection the way your ex did to you.” “Ouch,” Blake mumbled, stinging as surely as if he had been shot with a dagger. “I‟m sorry, papi. You understand. Don‟t you?” “Yeah. I guess I do.” “Well, I also took your advice and called the doctor. I have an appointment for tomorrow.”
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Blake remained silent. Each of Ricky‟s words felt like a nail being hammered into him. “And then, after lunch, I was thinking maybe I‟d check out that storage place behind the train tracks. You know, the one where we pulled over that one night?” Ricky leaned in so the others wouldn‟t hear. “When you took me on the hood of my car and the cops came around the corner soon after? Remember?” Tell him. Just open your mouth and tell him what’s about to happen. But tell him how you feel first! Yet Blake couldn‟t find the courage to speak. He felt completely helpless, useless, and unable to function. “How could I possibly forget?” Blake replied, somewhat distantly. They sat back in their chairs as their server, a cute, thin blond trying to look tougher than he appeared, brought their food. “So, I was thinking maybe you could come with me.” Ricky kept chattering. “I want to find out how much it‟s going to cost to store my stuff.” “I thought you said you didn‟t have anything at Bruno‟s?” Blake countered, feeling guiltier by the minute for not telling Ricky about the inevitable. “I don‟t really,” Ricky explained. Blake thought there was uncertainty in Ricky‟s tone. “But I have a lot of books. Some shelves. Knickknacks, framed prints. You know, stuff like that.” “I‟m sorry, baby. I didn‟t mean to rain on your parade,” Blake said. Ricky smiled, and it was like the sun had come out from behind the clouds, which only made Blake feel worse for not saying anything. Just speak, damn it! Say something! “After the storage place, I was thinking…maybe…we could go down to the nude beach at Haulover. I‟ve got sunscreen so you won‟t burn, a big blanket, and some beach towels in my car. Or we can go back to the house, back on the boat, and you can take me on my hands and knees. I‟ve always wanted to—”
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“Yeah. Sure. Anything you wish,” Blake said, digging into his chicken club. “Is something wrong?” Ricky‟s face fell. “No, baby. Nothing‟s wrong,” Blake lied. I just have to leave you; that’s all. Blake cleared his throat, then felt it tighten. “I was hoping tomorrow…that is, if you don‟t mind, maybe you can help me with… I know it‟s a lot to ask, but—” “Ricky…” Blake swallowed. “I‟m sorry, Blake. I‟m talking too much, aren‟t I?” “Yes,” Blake croaked. “I mean…no. Sorry. I—” “There is something wrong, isn‟t there?” Ricky grew quiet. He looked at Blake from across the table. Blake held his gaze, wishing there were some other way. He reached out with his right hand and covered Ricky‟s left. “Ricky, I…I‟m afraid I have some bad news.” There was an awkward silence when neither of them spoke. They stopped eating. Around them, others laughed and conversed. Blake was painfully aware of cutlery on plates, the hum of a neon sign nearby. A bell jingling over the door as someone came or went. “I wish I didn‟t have to go, but I have to take care of an emergency back home.” “Does it…does it have to be now?” Blake saw Ricky‟s eyes brim with tears. He looked as if he was struggling to keep them back. “I‟m sorry, honey. I need to go. This is one of my biggest accounts. I never even got a chance to work with Harte. I had the attack the night I was supposed to meet him for dinner.” Ricky swallowed. He lowered his eyes and picked at the food on his plate. A fat round tear rolled down his cheek. “We both knew this day would come. Besides, it‟ll probably only be for a few days,” Blake added, trying to sound light.
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“Which means it‟ll be for a lot longer than that. And then you might not want to come back.” “What are you talking about? Don‟t be silly. Of course I‟ll come back. Do you think this is easy for me? We‟ll talk every day, and—” “Is there any room in your life for me?” Ricky stopped him. “Or is your life all about work?” “What do you mean?” “Long distance doesn‟t work, Blake. Not for me. I want my man, and I want him with me. Or I want to be with him.” “That‟s a lot to think about,” Blake tried to evade the question. “Don‟t you think? It would mean changing our lives dramatically for each other.” Why the hell am I even thinking like this? But the damage had been done. He‟d handled it all wrong. The things he‟d wanted to say, the things he‟d been feeling were overshadowed, and all because he somehow had lost the ability to speak directly and not say what was on his mind, in his heart. Ricky leaned back and pulled his hand out from under Blake‟s. “Ricky—” “Don‟t,” Ricky said abruptly and pushed away from the table but remained seated. “Just…don‟t.” Ricky looked down at his Greek omelet. “Like you said, we both knew the day would come. We didn‟t promise each other anything, and you certainly don‟t owe me any explanations.” “Ricky, please.” “No, Blake. It‟s okay.” Ricky stood. “We both knew what we were getting ourselves into. I just didn‟t think that it would be today. Not when I need you the most.” “C‟mon, Ricky. Please don‟t do this. We have another day before I leave. And I‟m not saying we won‟t—”
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“I thought we‟d have another couple of weeks.” Ricky pulled his wallet from his front right pocket and fished through it. “Ricky, don‟t,” Blake whispered, glancing around at the people surrounding them. Some of them had stopped to watch. But Ricky didn‟t answer. He let the twenty flutter onto the table. He looked down at Blake and smiled weakly. Blake wanted to die. His heart was breaking. He knew it would be difficult telling Ricky. He knew there was a chance a long-distance relationship might not work. He knew it might be a while before he could come back. Still, he was willing to try. But he hadn‟t thought it would be like this. His eyes brimmed with tears despite his attempt at controlling them. The restaurant looked as if he were peering at it through a rainy, plate-glass window. Blake‟s vision blurred even more, but nothing mattered at that moment. Nothing except for the sob that threatened to choke him, the sudden pain that seemed to stab at his heart. So much for wanting to saying Ricky could come visit him in New York. So much for wanting to express his concerns about their age difference. So much for wanting to tell Ricky he wanted to be boyfriends, lovers, partners because of how Ricky made him feel. Because of how his heart swelled at the very thought of him. So much for telling Ricky he wanted to find a way to be with him. And yet, Blake couldn‟t say the words. He looked up, tears trickling. Then the beautiful boy kissed him. Long. Hard. Deep. Blake felt as if he would burst. No. This couldn‟t be happening. It wasn‟t happening. He wasn‟t going to leave. Ricky couldn‟t leave. Blake would stand, and they would hold each other tightly. They would go back to the house and make love and each tell the other he would never leave him alone. This had to be a misunderstanding. Miscommunication. But Rosemary‟s call picked at the back of Blake‟s brain.
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“I‟m sorry, Blake.” Ricky pulled away. “Do you have any idea how difficult the next few days are going to be for me, knowing that on top of everything that‟s already happened, you‟re leaving me?” “But that‟s not true! I‟ll be back. I promise. Don‟t walk out on me, Ricky. Please. Think of…think of how much fun we‟ve had together. Think of all the fun we can still have! We have tonight. We have tomorrow.” Blake could hear the desperation in his voice, hear his pitch rising. But Ricky merely gripped his shoulder, gave it a squeeze, and walked away. The doorbell jingled. “Go after him!” someone muttered with a sniffle. “Yeah! Don‟t let him get away!” someone else pleaded. “Don‟t you love him?” a woman‟s voice asked. Blake let the words flow through him, trickling into his veins, absorbing them into his very soul. “Yes!” Blake sobbed, unable to control himself. “I do.” He had no idea who had spoken to him, who was motivating him. He only knew that the one person he‟d ever wanted by his side had just walked away from him. Now he knew what love was. It wasn‟t just wanting to be with someone for the rest of his life, sharing and enjoying all the bad along with all the good. It wasn‟t just about sacrificing and compromising. It was about the fear of losing the one he‟d always wanted. The one thing he‟d thought he had with Bill. The one thing he‟d missed the most. The one thing he‟d thought would never come—the feeling of being complete. Up until that point, Blake hadn‟t realized just how much of a void had consumed him. With Ricky, everything seemed new again. He had something to look forward to, something that made his breath catch and made him smile for no reason. Life seemed worth living and fighting for. And he was letting Ricky walk away.
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Blake stood. He reached into his wallet, hoped he threw down enough money, and walked out to a round of applause. Outside, traffic whizzed by as he wiped at his tears. “Ricky?” Blake looked left and called out, but there was no answer. And no Ricky. Blake then looked right. A beefy Latino sauntered toward him. From a distance, through new tears, Blake thought, Could it be? “Ricky!” “No, handsome, but if you like, you can call me Ricky.” Blake hurried away to where he‟d parked the convertible. But even after he‟d jumped in and wiped his tears away, after he‟d driven around the block, then expanded his search another couple of blocks, Ricky was simply gone. Blake pulled over, not caring about the looks people gave him. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Ricky but kept getting his voice mail. “Fuck!” Blake slammed his fist on the steering wheel. “I don‟t even know where you live!”
*** Blake had thrown himself into his work the moment he got back to Derrick‟s. He‟d already spoken with Harte and apologized profusely for what had happened. It had taken almost no time at all to pack, and everything was now in the backseat of the car. With any luck, if he drove straight through, Blake would be back in New York in a little over a day. A few feet away, once again near the edge of the seawall, Bosco paced back and forth. The iguanas that had sunned themselves earlier had started to move in the waning light. Blake closed the notebook where he‟d jotted down some notes the old-fashioned way since he didn‟t have his computer, just as the phone rang. Blake snatched it up and answered without looking. “Ricky—”
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“No, Blake. This is Patty. Who‟s Ricky?” “No one,” Blake replied and shook his head, forcing himself to focus. “What‟s up?” “What the hell do you mean, what‟s up? I just got word from Harte that you‟re coming back to New York? What do you mean by… How did you even…?” “With all due respect, Patty, I‟m coming back, and that‟s final. If you don‟t like it, you can go fuck yourself.” Blake ended the call and slipped the phone into the pocket of his shirt. At the seawall, Bosco barked at the iguanas. “Bosco.” The dog ignored him. He kept barking, and his pacing increased. “Bosco!” Blake hollered again, but the chocolate Lab seemed far more interested in the iguanas than he was in his master. “Goddamn it!” Blake turned to go back into the house. He grabbed his wallet, the house and car keys, and Bosco‟s leash. Might as well leave now. Leave it all behind. What the hell was the point of staying? How was he supposed to believe he could ever have changed his life so drastically as to move down to Fort Lauderdale to live with a boy so much younger than him? And he sure as hell couldn‟t expect Ricky to give up his life and move up to New York. He had school to finish. Sooner or later someone would start resenting the other for the changes they‟d made, and it would all be over. Then what? Why go through all the heartache, the loss? No. Best to cut it off now, end it—though it hurt—and be done with it. It would only hurt more deeply later. But it was sweet while it lasted. Blake threw Bosco‟s leash around his neck, patted his pockets, and slapped his thighs. He called out to the dog, who was still barking outside.
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“Fine, let‟s do this the hard way, why don‟t we?” Blake mumbled. “Don‟t pay any fucking attention to me. See if I care. If Ricky were here, I bet you‟d go running to him.” But as Blake stepped outside, Bosco jumped on the concrete ledge and playfully swatted at the slowest iguana. The creature ran to keep up with the others. “Bosco!” Blake yelled. Bosco swatted at the iguana once more, and it flipped over, then fell into the canal. Bosco leaped after it. “Goddamn it, Bosco!” Blake an across the patio and jumped into the canal after his most trusted friend, the dog he‟d had since he was a puppy. The only thing remaining from the life he‟d once had with Bill and the only thing keeping him from a life of loneliness. With his heart racing, Blake forced himself to remain calm as he swam out to Bosco, who whimpered and paddled frantically. Blake managed to clutch Bosco by the collar and, somehow, was able to get him back up onto the patio, then pulled himself out. The dog lay shivering and whimpering, his fur wet, while Blake lay on his back, breathing heavily. His heart thumped louder than before, and his blood raced. He couldn‟t breathe. A sharp twinge ran down the side of Blake‟s arm. Dear God! No! Please! No. Not now. Not like this! Blake made a fist and punched himself in the chest several times. He remembered reading somewhere that it could buy him time. Enough to call for help or drive himself to the hospital. But where was the nearest hospital? His vision had begun to blur. He was vaguely aware of Bosco still whimpering and shaking beside him. Only he couldn‟t worry about that. He had to get to the hospital. He had to call 911. Blake reached into his pocket for his phone, but it wasn‟t there.
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Fuck! It must be in the water. Now how am I going to get to the hospital? All my numbers. My one connection… Blake scrambled to his hands and knees. He had to stand, had to calm down. He couldn‟t go on like this. But there was nothing else he could do. Useless. Fucking useless! His heartbeat began to slow. This wasn‟t like the last time, Blake realized as he crawled across the patio and stumbled into the house. There was no one around, no one to bump into. Not unless the perv next door was still watching. No Ricky. No gym attendant. Blake scrambled through the house, clutching at anything that would keep him from falling to the ground. Things tumbled as he went; glass tinkled as it hit the floor. Something shattered. Blake punched himself in the chest again, his lungs burning as he struggled for oxygen. He imagined what he must look like: a fish out of water, gasping for air. Lights flashed and sparkled, dancing near the corners of his vision. There was a blast of cool air on his face as he got the front door open, and a pair of arms grabbed him. “I got ya,” someone said, as if from very far away. Blake didn‟t recognize the voice, but he thought he saw Ricky‟s face swim before him. “EMS is on its way,” the voice said in a detached tone. In the distance, Blake could hear sirens blaring. He closed his eyes as his heart thumped slower. And slower. Then stopped. And there was nothing but darkness.
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Chapter Twelve It was the end of March, and it seemed winter refused to give up its hold on New York. The cold, blustery, gray weather only served to magnify the way Blake felt. He found it difficult to believe he was back in New York. In fact, he found it hard to believe he was alive at all. If it hadn‟t been for Derrick‟s neighbor who had called EMS after being roused by Bosco‟s steady barking, Blake might not have been resuscitated. Blake stood on the patio of his apartment. The chill made him feel alive, but at the same time, it helped deaden his senses. The city hadn‟t changed much while he was gone. It was still fast, with a vibe and frenzied energy all its own. But then Manhattan had always been that way. Almost like a child pulling a temper tantrum or on too much sugar. But he had definitely changed. New York was home, had been for most of his life, but he now felt odd and out of sorts with the city. There was an emotional detachment and Blake felt as if his time in New York was coming to an end. All that remained was to see where he would land next. All he could think of was Ricky. Blake‟s days had been filled with doctor‟s appointments, rehabilitation, and surprisingly long talks with one person he never would have expected. Harte himself had suffered a heart attack and undergone a triple bypass several years prior. And even though it had been difficult at first to cross that line between client
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and service provider, he was grateful Harte had reached out to him to speak of his personal experiences. They had helped shed light on Blake‟s fears. But if Blake‟s days were filled with things that kept him busy and occupied in as stress free an environment as possible, his long nights were filled with hunger and yearning for Ricky. Always Ricky. Blake looked south toward Ground Zero, where people rushed about almost as if the Twin Towers had never fallen. The construction workers and engineers, several stories below street level, looked like ants as they scurried about, trying to make New York look like the capital of the world it had once been. What‟s it all for? Blake wondered. All those people. All that living, loving, and dying. And for what? Money no longer seemed enough. It wasn‟t the only thing worth living for if he didn‟t have someone to share it with. Like before, after the first heart attack, the apartment was wonderful, but it felt as desolate and barren as Central Park after a heavy snow. The custom-tailored shirts, expensive suits, and accessories in his closet made him look good but brought him little if any pleasure. The artwork he‟d collected and the square footage of his apartment had been wildly coveted. Now it was just space that echoed with his footsteps when he was alone. Even the electronic gadgets he‟d once found so amusing that had once made his life easy and comfortable had ceased to bring Blake any sort of pleasure. None of it meant anything if he didn‟t have Ricky. Blake inhaled sharply of the brisk, New York City air. Despite the coldness, it revitalized his soul, if not his heart. “Blake?” Rosemary opened the French doors and stepped onto the balcony. Bosco trotted out and stood beside Blake. The dog gave his left hand a lick. “Mr. Harte is leaving. He‟d like to say good-bye.” “I‟ll be right in. Thank you, Rosemary.”
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Even the Harte account, worth several million dollars—the only account he had been handling since he got back—no longer seemed to matter as it once had. But of course, he would never say that to the fiery, gracefully aging redhead with the surprisingly soft spot in his heart for manners, an even temper, and someone willing to tell him in a polite way that sometimes his ideas were crap.
*** “You know what I think the problem was between Derrick and Harte?” Rosemary asked as she went around Blake‟s home office, picking up the pads and files they had used. Out in the kitchen, Inez puttered, making dinner. “Hm?” Blake made some final notes on their meeting and a list of things to do for the following morning. After he‟d lost his phone, Blake decided to do certain things the old-fashioned way. He didn‟t want to have his life depend on a single piece of equipment ever again. At least, not one that could be so easily lost. “I think Derrick just couldn‟t take Harte‟s criticism,” Rosemary said and pushed the chairs under the round wooden table. “He can be a bit rough at times.” “Yeah, well, Derrick can get defensive,” Blake replied. He looked up at Rosemary as he snapped his portfolio shut and capped his pen. “So where are you off to tonight?” Blake smiled as Rosemary slipped into her coat and picked up her pocketbook. “Got a hot date?” “Nah. Tony and I broke up. Remember?” “Oh right! I‟m sorry. I should have remembered. God. I can‟t believe how much of a scatterbrain I‟ve been lately!” “It‟s the meds,” Rosemary replied. At the door, Inez knocked, then poked her head inside. “Sorry to interrupt, Señor Hudson. Dinner is ready.” “Thank you, Inez. I‟ll be right there. Did Bosco eat?” “Oh yes. I go now.” Inez turned and left.
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“I‟d better get going, too. My girlfriend has tickets to see Les Misérables. Did you know the youngest Jonas brother is in it? Oh my God! That boy is so damn hot. I want a cute one like that. He doesn‟t have to be rich. Just cute, with a sexy body and a killer smile.” “Careful or they‟ll start calling you a cougar! Make sure you keep your panties on,” Blake joked. Rosemary pretended to be insulted and gave Blake a playful pat. She turned and walked into the living room. “You sure you won‟t stay for dinner? Inez usually cooks enough for an army!” Rosemary laughed. “Yeah, I know. She‟s cooked for me a few times. She‟s really such a sweet lady.” “I don‟t know what I‟m going to do when she returns to Costa Rica next month.” “You‟ll find someone else to clean and cook and look after you in the daytime.” “It‟s not the daytime I‟m worried about.” “I think you know what to do about that, Blake.” Rosemary pursed her lips and squinted at him. She cocked her head. “Please stay, Roe. It‟s only five. Dinner will be quick. Then I‟ll go downstairs with you and take Bosco for a walk. You‟ll have plenty of time to get uptown.” “Okay. Just lemme call my girlfriend.” Rosemary dug into her purse and pulled out her phone.
*** Downstairs, Blake waited with Rosemary while she hailed a cab. Their breath plumed before them. “You know, no one would blame you if you went back down to Lauderdale to look for him.” Rosemary turned to Blake, arm still raised high in the air. “I don‟t even know where he lives, Roe. All I know is that he was moving in with one of his friends. A guy named Angel.”
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“So? How many guys can there be in Fort Lauderdale with that name? Seriously, though. You can‟t stand there and tell me that in this day and age you can‟t find one hot Latin guy in a city like Fort Lauderdale. What‟s his name again?” “Ricky. Rick. Sanchez, like the news guy,” Blake replied, remembering how Ricky had introduced himself. Rosemary smiled, then giggled. “What?” “I wish you could have seen your face just now. You lit up like a Christmas tree! Now all you gotta do is go find him.” An old checkered cab slowed down and came to a stop at the curb before them. Rosemary opened the door and climbed in. She gazed up at Blake. “Stop fighting yourself and go get him, tiger! Bring him back here.” “He doesn‟t want to come to New York.” “Then stay there! It doesn‟t matter, as long as you‟re with him. Life isn‟t worth living until you‟ve found the one who haunts every moment of your life. Everything else? It‟s just gravy. “I‟ll stay at your place,” Rosemary continued. “I‟ll take care of Bosco while you look for Ricky Sanchez, like the news guy.” Rosemary gave Blake a lopsided grin and pulled the door shut behind her.
*** Blake stood in the middle of the winding path at Riverfront, his chest tight with apprehension. Without knowing why, he retraced the steps he had taken with Ricky that first day they‟d spent together. He visited each and every spot, as if expecting Ricky to be there. At each new place, his heart swelled, as he half expected, half wished Ricky would magically appear. But every time he didn‟t, Blake‟s heart sank. With each disappointment came the harsh reality that perhaps Ricky might have moved on, the fear that perhaps Ricky didn‟t want to see him.
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And that’s the reason why you‟re looking in all the places you shouldn‟t be, a little voice said loud and clear in Blake‟s head. Still scared. It was still hard for Blake to trust anyone after Bill. Difficult to open his heart and allow someone in. Yet Ricky had managed to crawl in. DJ Marc. He’ll know where Ricky is. The thought popped into his head unexpectedly. Blake remembered the night he and Ricky had gone to Boom for the cast party and felt renewed with fresh resolve. Blake looked at his wristwatch. Best to go back to Derrick‟s and take a nap. He had a few hours before the place opened.
*** Blake walked into the loud, ice-cold dance club that smelled of stale cigarettes. He ordered a glass of red wine and wormed his way through the crowd, oblivious to the stares and appraising looks. There was only one man on his mind at the moment. Near the back, on a raised platform, Blake saw him. The DJ did a double take. A few minutes later he came down and stood before Blake. “You‟ve got some nerve coming around here after the stunt you pulled.” “Please don‟t be mad at me, Marc. Let me explain.” “Speak fast, brother! I‟m on break and I‟ve only got a few minutes.” Blake filled Marc in about the break up, then the heart attack that followed. Blake had never insisted on knowing where Ricky lived and now he wished he had. “You could have called him!” Marc protested above the loud music. “My phone fell in the water when I jumped in to get Bosco!” Blake explained, realizing how lame it sounded even to his own ears. “And then it was time to leave for New York.”
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“He changed it anyway,” Marc said, looking as if he were lost in though. “I just can‟t remember if he did it before you guys broke up or after.” By the time Blake was done explaining—some during Marc‟s break, some in between songs—the DJ tossed Blake a look of disbelief. He huffed and seemed uncertain, but finally pursed his lips and tossed Blake his cell phone. Like a boy on Christmas morning, Blake grinned and thanked him. He hurried through the crowd, making his way to the sidewalk, where handsome, well-built men—many of them half-naked, most of them drunk—spilled and hung out, eyeing him appreciatively. But that didn‟t matter to Blake. He had only one thing on his mind: Ricky. He was finally going to speak to Ricky again! Swallowing his fear, Blake dialed Ricky‟s new cell-phone number despite the late hour. The phone rang once. Twice. Then a third time. “Hi…” “Ricky? Ricky! It‟s me. Blake.” “I‟m not available to answer your call right now, but leave me a message, and I‟ll get back to you as soon as I can.” Disappointed, Blake sighed and waited to leave a message. Then someone bumped into him. Blake stumbled, nearly losing the phone, but managed to hold on to it and regain his balance in the process. “Hey, buddy! Why don‟tcha watch where yer goin‟?” A gruff, slurred voice spoke from a short distance away. Blake turned, ready to push back, then froze. Before him stood a man nearly a foot taller. Big. Beefy. Massively muscled. A swarthy young man, a miniature version of the big bruiser, tugged and pulled him away from Blake. “C‟mon, Bruno. You‟re drunk. We‟re going home.” Could it be? Blake wondered. What were the chances?
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“Fuck off, Jonah!” The overly muscled man easily pulled free from his companion and swung at him. “We‟ll go home when I‟m good and ready, and I ain‟t ready. Unnerstand?” “Bruno!” The young man stepped back and barely avoided a punch to the side of his head. It had to be! How many aggressive steroid freaks named Bruno could there be in Fort Lauderdale? And wasn‟t Jonah the name of the guy Bruno had cheated on Ricky with? Blake felt a rush of anger flow through him. His heart raced, and his breathing grew heavy. “Bruno?” Blake asked, fighting the urge to slam into the man, who looked like he could easily squash him. “Yeah, what‟s it to you?” Bruno towered over him. Blake looked up and gulped. He would have laughed if he hadn‟t been staring at more than six feet of muscle with angry, glittering eyes. “Nothing, I just…” Blake licked his lips, trying to figure out what to say next. His mind went blank. “Bruno!” Jonah hollered and stepped between them. But Bruno pushed him off to one side. Blake watched as Jonah stumble. “You got a problem, buddy?” Bruno asked, his face inches away from Blake‟s. Run! Get away! This guy‟s going to clobber you! a voice cried desperately in Blake‟s mind. But he stood his ground, unaware his right hand was flexing into a fist. “I really don‟t need this bullshit!” Jonah punched Bruno in the arm. Blake almost burst out laughing. The scene looked as incongruous to him as a Chihuahua lashing out at a Great Dane. “I‟m not putting up with your abuse any longer! I‟m leaving. I am not Ricky!”
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Good for you, Jonah, Blake thought, even as he flashed back to the bruises on Ricky‟s arm, the black eye. Blake‟s anger mounted and he brought to the forefront the verbal and physical abuse, the bruises and pain he‟d endured caused by his father. His ire continued to grow as Blake thought about Bill and the cracked ribs, all the horrible taunts. He thought of his mother, Ricky, and all the victims of domestic violence whose lives had been shattered by bullies. Blake grinned as Bruno turned his head to watch Jonah leave. It’s now or never! “Hey.” Blake poked Bruno in the chest. “What?” Bruno hollered, turning his attention back to Blake. Blake pulled his arm back and swung. His fist connected with Bruno‟s nose, and Blake felt more than heard something crunch. An excruciating pain shot up his arm, and a commotion rose around him. Blake was vaguely aware of Bruno falling back as a couple of other muscled men tried to catch him. From the corner of his eye, Blake noticed Jonah stop and turn, and out of nowhere, it seemed everyone was yelling and screaming. Someone tugged at him, and he was surprised to see DJ Marc‟s worried face swimming before him. “C‟mon! You gotta go. Hurry!” As the crowd pressed in to see what was the matter, Blake felt himself being pulled away. Half a block from the fray, as the crowd searched for whoever had knocked Bruno down, Marc hurriedly ushered Blake to a waiting cab and unceremoniously pushed him in. Blake winced as he reached out with his right hand to keep from falling over in the backseat. From the pain, he realized he must have broken something when his fist connected with Bruno‟s nose. “Rosie‟s. Tomorrow. Eleven. Be there!” Marc whispered harshly and turned his attention to the driver. “Broward General ER. ASAP!” Marc thumped the cab with his palm and the cab pulled away.
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As the distance grew between Blake and Bruno, so did the pain in his hand. But it couldn‟t erase the smile or the sense of satisfaction coursing through his body.
*** Blake steered carefully with his right hand and the thumb and forefinger of his left. The rest of his fingers had been set in a cast and braced. He pulled up to the valet, gave the slender man the car keys, and awkwardly pocketed his receipt. Then, swallowing his pride—along with the fear that plagued him—Blake walked into Rosie‟s. He didn‟t know what to expect. Would Marc have said anything to Ricky about the night before? “Good afternoon, sir. How many?” the bubbly attendant by the door asked. “Oh, I‟m not… I‟m looking for some friends,” Blake replied absentmindedly. He spotted Marc. “I see them.” Blake moved slowly forward. Marc was at a table with four other people. But where was Ricky? Had he chickened out at the last minute when he heard Blake would be there? Blake swallowed and walked up to the table. Marc seemed to be paying rapt attention to someone seated across from him with his right arm in a sling and his right leg in a cast that was propped on a chair. A crutch leaned beside him. “But don‟t you think it‟s time you moved on? I mean, he‟s been gone… What? Two months? It‟s not like you knew him that long.” Blake gulped at the tone in Angel‟s voice, and his heart felt heavy when he noted the man‟s hand resting—almost possessively—on a thick, tanned, and muscled forearm that looked an awful lot like… Ricky! But what happened to him? Ricky‟s arm was in a sling, his leg in a cast. Blake‟s breath caught. Even above the loud music, he heard Ricky‟s reply. “I can‟t, Angel. I try, but I can‟t seem to stop thinking about him. I…I still love him.”
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Blake thought he would burst into tears. “And what would you say to him?” Marc asked. Blake thought he saw the slightest hint of acknowledgment. “I mean, if all of a sudden he just turned up, cute as a puppy dog and with his tail between his legs behind you.” There was a pause. “That I love him. And that if he still wants me, once I‟m done with school, I‟ll give up Florida to be with him. I don‟t really care where we live.” Tears sprang to his eyes. He smiled and knelt beside Ricky. “Wanna say that to my face?” “Excuse me?” Ricky turned. For a moment he did nothing. Then his jaw dropped and his eyes widened with dawning realization. Blake reached for Ricky and nearly sobbed as Ricky wrapped his one good arm around him, squeezing his neck. They cried as they clung to each other. “I can‟t believe you‟re here! I thought you were back in New York.” “I was,” Blake answered. “But I couldn‟t stay away from you anymore.” Blake stood and looked at the others, each with a different expression. “Oh my God!” Ricky exclaimed. He reached out tentatively. “What happened to your hand?” “I, uh…I ran into something.” Blake looked down at his hand and shrugged, then quickly changed the subject. “What happened to you?” Blake gently placed a hand on Ricky‟s cast. “Bruno!” they all said almost in unison. “What did he do?” Blake asked, no longer as uncomfortable as before. “Bruno pushed him down the stairs,” Angel said in disgust when Ricky didn‟t reply. Anger rose inside Blake. “But don‟t worry,” Marc added, exchanging a glance and a secret smile with Blake. “That motherfucker is in jail now, and Ricky‟s got a restraining order against him.”
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Blake took a deep breath and felt his chest expand and swell with pride as he remembered the events from the night before. Someone cleared their throat. “Gentlemen…please forgive me for intruding on you like this,” Blake addressed the men then turned back to Ricky. He once again dropped to one knee. “Ricky? We didn‟t part under the best of conditions. And I have to admit that the blame rests on me. I couldn‟t find the words to tell you how I felt about you, how much you mean to me. And it wasn‟t until after you walked out on me that I knew for sure. I was too scared to admit it to myself. Even for a moment. I mean, how do you say I love you to someone you‟ve only known for a short time?” Blake focused on Ricky, on his beautiful, sad face, the deep brown eyes, and the smile that made his heart melt. “Just like that,” Ricky said and kissed Blake lightly on the lips. Blake felt his heart flutter, and he pulled back with a smile and a song in his heart. “I love you, Ricky,” Blake said simply. “Will you be mine?” Ricky wrapped his good arm around Blake. “I loved you that first moment I laid eyes on you,” Blake added, hugging Ricky back. “When we shook hands,” Ricky replied. “And you gave me a shock.” Blake laughed and leaned back. “You‟re the one that gave me the shock!” Ricky teased. A single tear rolled down his cheek. “I never meant to lose contact with you, Ricky. I had another heart attack. That night.” “Oh my God,” Ricky said, a hand on Blake‟s shoulder. “Then I lost my phone. It fell from my pocket when I dove into the water to save Bosco. He jumped in after an iguana.” “No! Is he—”
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“Bosco‟s fine. He‟s back in New York. Rosemary, my secretary, is staying at my place until I get back. With you.” “Well, I guess this means you should pull up a chair and join us, Blake.” Angel stood and extended his hand to Blake, who shook it with a grin. “You already know Marc. This is Kevin, and that‟s Niko.” Blake shook hands with each of them. “I would like nothing more than to sit with you and your friends. But I need to make arrangements for this evening. That is…if you would join me for dinner.”
*** “You‟re absolutely sure you can‟t see?” Blake asked several hours later. He had picked Ricky up at Angel‟s place in Wilton Manors. Blake helped Ricky out to the car, then blindfolded him with a grin, his cock filling. The moon was out—full, fat, and yellow. In the lane to their right, the driver glanced at them with an odd expression. Blake ignored him. “No, I can‟t!” Ricky replied excitedly, his fingers on the blindfold. “Where are you taking me?” “I already told you. It‟s a surprise.” “Not even a hint?” Ricky asked. “Not even a hint,” Blake answered and hit the gas when the green arrow appeared. And now, as Blake turned off US 1 and onto the quiet side streets of Rio Vista, he grew anxious, hoping everything he had planned went off without a hitch. “Is it something kinky?” Ricky asked with a grin. Blake got the feeling Ricky meant it as a joke, but the huskiness in his voice said something different. Blake cleared his throat. “Maybe.” “Hmmm,” Ricky mused and then was quiet the remainder of the ride. Some minutes later they parked in front of Derrick‟s house. “Okay! We‟re here,” Blake offered.
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“Can I take the blindfold off now?” “No. Not yet.” “You know, under different circumstances, I‟d say this was pretty hot, and I‟d actually be hard.” “Well, maybe when the cast comes off…” “Cock-teaser,” Ricky joked. “Oh no,” Blake said and reached between Ricky‟s legs. He gave him a twofingered grope. “Not me. I know how you Latin boys don‟t like to be teased. Now stay there.” Blake got out of the car, slammed the door shut, then hurried to the other side. Ricky had opened the passenger side and was carefully climbing out. “Lean on me.” “Don‟t you think the crutch would be better?” “No. Just use me. I won‟t let anything happen to you. I promise. Besides,” Blake added once Ricky had his good arm draped around him. “It‟s much more intimate this way.” “We must make quite the pair,” Ricky joked. “Me with half my body in a cast, and you with your fingers sticking out like you‟re flipping someone off.” They shared a laugh together as slowly, surely, Blake led Ricky to the front door. Blake unlocked it and guided Ricky inside. He close the door behind him, then took Ricky‟s hand. “Step down,” Blake said and resisted a chuckle as they made their way across the living room to the other side. “Wait there,” Blake said as he unlocked the sliding glass door and slid it open without making noise. He‟d spent a good while greasing it to make sure Ricky wouldn‟t recognize the sound. “Where are we?” Ricky giggled. “You don‟t know yet?”
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“I‟m not sure. I think so, but I can‟t say with certainty.” Blake took Ricky‟s left hand in his right. They stepped onto the patio and closed the door behind them. Painstakingly, Blake guided Ricky up the makeshift ramp from the dock and onto the yacht that began to idle. “Blake? This feels really weird. Where are we?” “Hang on a sec, okay? You just sit down here, and I‟ll be right back.” Blake led Ricky to the built-in cushioned seating at the back of the yacht, then worked his way to the front cabin. “Take her out,” Blake said to the hired captain, and within minutes they were moving. “We‟re on a boat! Aren‟t we?” Ricky exclaimed when Blake returned. “Why don‟t you take off the blindfold?” Ricky pulled it off, and his breath caught. Strand upon strand of clear Christmas lights were draped around the rear of Derrick‟s yacht. They sparkled on the water‟s surface. “How did you…? Wait. Who‟s at the wheel?” “I hired a captain for the night,” Blake explained as he sat next to Ricky. “I wanted to be alone with you on the water. I know how much you wanted to go on the boat. I wanted to give you a truly special, magical night under the moonlight and under the stars.” “You‟ve already given me that.”. “Did I?” “Yes. The first night you made love to me. After our first disagreement. And this.” Ricky reached for Blake‟s broken fingers. “What do you mean?” “Marc told me what happened.”
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Blake took Ricky‟s hand in his. “You‟re not mad are you?” Ricky shot Blake a lopsided grin and shook his head. “You kidding? I wish I‟d been there to see him go down!” “Ricky…” Blake cleared his throat. “I‟m not perfect. I‟m damaged goods. And I don‟t believe in fairy tales. I can‟t promise you that we‟ll always be living like this”—Blake waved a hand in the air—“but I can promise I will never hit you, I will always respect you, and I will never purposely make you cry or make your heart ache.” Ricky seemed stunned. “I don‟t think you ever spoke this openly about your feelings before. Except for that night when you told me about Bill and what happened between you two.” “I guess I had a lot of time to think while I was in the hospital, after the second heart attack. I realized I haven‟t let anyone into my life since he and I broke up. I‟ve shut people out and kept them at a safe distance. But I don‟t want to do that anymore. I want to be with someone I can trust. Someone I can love who will love me back for who I am. No judgments. No conditions. Someone who makes me feel at peace, comfortable, no matter where we go or what we do.” Ricky spoke sheepishly. “Have anyone in mind?” “Smart-ass,” Blake whispered, his lips inches away from Ricky‟s. They kissed lightly, and Ricky pulled back. “What about your work? What about school? I‟m so close to finishing, and you can‟t be serious about moving down here.” “Already know what I‟m going to say to Patty and Derrick. We‟re going to open up a southeast branch of Baby, Jane, and Hudson.” “But—” Blake put a finger to Ricky‟s lips. They gazed into each other‟s eyes.
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“Why don‟t we deal with the specifics tomorrow? Right now, tonight, I just want you to experience magic. Okay?” Ricky nodded. “Oh! I almost forgot. Hang on. Be right back.” “What are you…?” “Trust me.” Blake stood and smiled, then disappeared into the cabin. A moment later there was music, soft yet loud enough to be heard. Blake emerged from the cabin in time to watch Ricky‟s breath catch and clap his hands with delight. As the yacht made its way out to sea, Blake took Ricky‟s good hand. He pulled the young man up gently, and Ricky laid his head on Blake‟s shoulder as they swayed to an old Bette Midler song. “We could dance, under the moonlight. Hug and kiss, all through the night…” “I love you,” Ricky said and tilted his chin up to Blake. “And I love you, baby,” Blake replied, gazing longingly down into Ricky‟s eyes. “So? What do you say? Will you be my lover boy?” Blake snuggled into Ricky‟s neck. “Only if you‟ll be my lover man,” Ricky whispered. And as the song crescendoed, they kissed slowly, deeply, with plenty of tongue and heavy breathing. In his heart, Blake could have sworn he felt fireworks.
Loose Id Titles by Johnny Miles Casa Rodrigo Lauderdale Hearts
Johnny Miles Johnny Miles first burst onto the world of gay erotica in 1985, when he published his first short story for self-abusers. Since then, his work has been featured in Blueboy, Numbers, Stars, Honcho, First Hand, Skin, Male Insider and, more recently, Handjobs magazines. After several decades of experimenting with different careers—graphic designer, massage therapist, phone sex operator and human dildo—he returned to the world of erotica in 2008. Johnny is working on a third collection of gay erotic stories, as well as writing three blogs, filming, editing, and anything else that will make a fast buck or get him into trouble. Johnny lives in Fort Lauderdale with his partner (and silent sufferer) of nearly fourteen years, along with three lunatic Pugs, and a prissy, prima donna cat.