A Writer's Romance

Prologue-2

* * * *

They were standing waist deep in the warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico. Suddenly Lance disappeared under the water. Sophie gasped when the bottom of her bikini was yanked down around her thighs. Lance popped up, facing her, a devilish look in his eyes. Sophie gasped again as she felt his fingers stroking her under the water. Not to be outdone, she cupped her hand under the huge bulge in his Speedos. He was erect, so erect that the skimpy bathing outfit was pushed away from his body. She put her hand around the turgid member and nearly gasped again. She could barely close her fingers around it.

“I think I’ve had enough swimming. This water’s too warm to be refreshing. Let’s go to my room. Perhaps we could order up cocktails?”

Lance stroked her again, then pulled up her bikini, taking a lot of time to make sure it was properly positioned, rubbing her in front and behind, smoothing it out.

“The bar in my room is well stocked. I’m sure I could supply whatever you want.”

“Whatever?” Her expression was part smile, part pout. “Perhaps,” she said.

* * * *

Ben was annoyed when the doorbell rang on Saturday morning. A look at the clock on his computer showed it was 11:30. After the call from his agent on Thursday he’d decided that, much as he’d like to work on This Petty Pace, he’d be smarter to work on Captiva, which took less concentration. He’d been so engrossed in what he was writing that the morning had passed quickly.

It was, of course, Chris and Hal at the door.

He was surprised how much Hal had grown since the previous summer. The fourteen-year old was now around 5’9” and would no doubt be taller than his father when he had all his growth. He was thin, all arms and legs, coltish. His voice was much deeper than Ben remembered, too. Hal reminded Ben of someone, but he couldn’t think who.

Although Chris had grabbed his younger brother into a hug, Hal merely offered to shake hands. Then he dropped to the floor to greet Mr. Tibbs who had come from the study to see what the commotion was all about. When Tibbs saw Hal sitting cross-legged he promptly climbed into his lap. Soon afterward, Hal and the cat disappeared into the guest bedroom. Ben was surprised Mr. Tibbs had taken up so promptly with the teen. Hal had only been there once before, and that had been over a year ago when Chris and his son had used Ben’s place when they were in the area to see a Tigers home game.

After a lunch of canned beef soup and French bread (Hal had peanut butter on the bread), they went to the game. It was a beautiful northern Ohio October day, crisp enough for a sweater or sweatshirt, but sunny. They decided to walk the half mile to the stadium instead of braving the game day traffic.

As they were walking across the stadium parking lot, a voice behind them said, “Hey, Ben.” They stopped and turned to see who it was. Approaching them were the guys from across the street.

“It’s good to see you at a game. You stay at home a lot, don’t you?” This was said by the same one he’d seen that morning, the great-looking Asian boy with the fine ass. His companion, about 5’10”, an inch taller than his friend, was thinner, with brown hair, brown eyes, glasses. Ben thought he looked sensitive, perhaps artistic. But for the life of him though he knew their names he couldn’t remember which was which.

“Uh, hi, guys. Chris, these fellows are Bruce and Toby. They live across the street. Guys, my brother Chris Moss and his son, Hal.”

“I’m Toby,” the runner said, “and this is my roomie, Bruce.”

Oh, okay, Ben thought. I won’t forget again.

They all shook hands.

Since the crowd was swirling around them, they weren’t able to stand there and talk.

“Nice to meet you,” Toby said as he and Bruce headed off for their seats.

Ben was surprised to find that he enjoyed the game. His brother and nephew seemed to be having a great time. It was a typical Saturday college game, with colorful bands and cheerleaders and a friendly though partisan crowd in the stands. Hal put away a couple of chilidogs and a huge root beer less than an hour after he’d had lunch.

Chris noticed Ben looking at his son and grinned. “The doc says so long as he takes his vitamins, we shouldn’t worry too much at this stage about what he eats. And he’s obviously thriving on it. It won’t be long before he’s bigger than I am.” Ben took note of the pride in his brother’s voice and wondered how much he was missing by being gay.

Not that he’d had any choice. Nevertheless, although he was doing just fine on his own, thank you, at times he wished he had a partner to come home to. For the first time, moreover, he found himself thinking about having no progeny. Hal was going through a difficult phase, but there was no doubt that he loved his dad. Ben knew he’d never experience that kind of love. Or any kind of love if his life kept going on the way it was, the way he’d made it since that day two years earlier when he’d discovered Trent in bed with the jock from the university.

After the game, which Colby State lost by a field goal, they went back to Ben’s place where they used the facilities and relaxed for a while. Hal asked if he could be excused to go into the guest room (where he and his dad would use the two single beds) and connect his Xbox to the TV.

Later they got into Chris’s Lexus and drove to the edge of town to Applebee’s where they had to wait twenty minutes before being seated. Hal ordered a steak with a baked potato. It came with either veggies or a salad, but he refused both. He ate the potatoes and picked at the steak. Ben was about to ask if there was something wrong with the meat, but he decided not to.

They all had warm apple pie with cinnamon ice cream and whipped cream. Even Hal ate all of his dessert.

At Ben’s place once more, the men put a football game on television. Michigan was playing Iowa at home. Hal took his dad’s laptop into the bedroom. It was understood that, while Hal and his parents knew Ben was gay and didn’t seem to have any problems with it, he would not be allowed to use Ben’s computer.

U of M had a big lead. Chris used the remote to mute the television.

“So, little brother, how are things with you really?”

“Chris, you always ask me that and I always tell you the same thing. I’m fine. The books are selling well. That is, the crappy ones, the romances. Still no luck trying to find a publisher for my one decent novel.”

“And yet you’re working on another gay story?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, good luck with all that. Now, you want to explain to me why you keep that job with the county and live like this when you’re really packing in the dough from your best-sellers?”

“I wouldn’t call them best sellers.”

“You’re quibbling, Shakespeare. They’re doing damn well. Marcia was looking at the New York Times the other day and saw just how well your latest one is doing.”

“Okay, okay! Sanibel’s selling even better than the earlier ones. But the reading public is fickle. They’ll find another writer whose books they like better, and then mine will be as popular as a used Kleenex. Or I’ll hit a dry spot. That happens to writers. Sometimes we just can’t get an idea that drives us to write. So I’m living on what I make from the county job. The rest I’m putting away. You never know when you’ll need to have something in reserve.”

“Can’t fault that thinking, I guess,” Chris said. “But what I really wanted to ask about is your lifestyle.”

Ben bristled. “What about it?”

“Relax, little brother. You know I love you. And you have to admit that I’ve not been the kind to tell you how to live your life.”

“Until now?” Ben asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Dammit, Ben. Marcia and I care about you. We hate to see you living like a hermit here, the way you have been doing since you dumped Trent.”

“Why do you insist that I dumped him? That makes it sound as if I were being capricious. Or had found someone else.”

“No, I didn’t mean it that way.”

“You better not have. You know very well I found the bastard getting f****d by a baseball player from Colby State. In our bed.”

“Uh.” Chris grimaced. “You don’t need to be so graphic, bro.”

“You raised the topic. You can’t back down. Visualize it. My lover, the guy I thought I was set with for life, with his ass in the air for a muscular twink ten years younger. God knows how many times he’d done that when he thought he had the house to himself and I wouldn’t be coming home until later.”

“Do you know whether it had happened before?”

“No. You think I was going to listen to Trent’s pathetic explanations? How could I believe anything he said? He’d betrayed all the trust and faith I’d placed in him. I really thought he and I were good for the long haul.”

Chris raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Okay, okay, Benny. So you and Trent weren’t meant to be. But two years have passed, and you’re shutting out the world. That can’t be good, bro. You’re practically a hermit. Even that kid from across the street alluded to it.”

“You know I hate it when you call me Benny.”

“Jesus! You’ll do anything to change the subject, won’t you?”

“Spoken like the shyster you are. Are you accusing me of the fallacy of the red herring, counselor?”

Chris grinned. “Yep. How’d you learn about that from majoring in English?”

“We had to study logic, believe it or not. And I loved it.”

“I always said you should have gone to law school, like your brilliant big brother.”

“And being constantly compared with my brilliant big brother was one of the reasons I didn’t. Now, about my life. It’s not really any of your business-”

“Wait a minute! As cantankerous and exasperating as you are, I love you. I actually think you may have something to offer the right partner. So I don’t like the idea that you’re holing up here with Mr. Tibbs and your computer. That’s no life for a young guy of, uh, thirty-two is it? You’d better find someone before you lose your looks.”

“Bullshit. You’re so full of it!” Ben said. “You’re the one that got the looks and the charm. I’ve been in your shadow forever. And if I had anything going for me, why would Trent have thrown away our five years together for some sack time with that twinky?”

“Maybe Trent is more of a bastard than I thought. I admit I always liked him. He wasn’t good enough for my baby brother, but he was okay. Or so I thought. But seriously, Ben, you can’t pine away here forever. You’re a very successful author. You should cash in on your celebrity and get out in the world. That could be the perfect way for you to meet your Mr. Right.”