Hello! It`s time for Tuesday Tales.
Today we the next issue in my historical M/M romance, Dear Jon, which is set in 1945. Every issue of this serial will be under 1500 words so they're quick reads. Our word prompt today is 'Beat'. This story contains mature language and gay sexual situations. If that offends now would be the time to move onto another Tuesday Tales offering.
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“I`m really mad at you about this whole librarian dating scheme,” I said. The man folded his thick arms over his chest. One dark eyebrow went up.
“I would have never guessed.”
“Don`t be snide," I snapped softly, trying to keep our discussion muted. “You know damned well that this would become something I couldn`t maintain. I had to kiss her, Ross.”
“Did you like it?” he asked nonchalantly. I stopped circling the bed and blinked at him dully. He asked again. “Did you like kissing her?”
“Of course not,” I said then sat down beside him, his question throwing me off my tirade neatly. I placed my palm over his heart. Dark curly hairs circled my fingers. I glanced from the sight of my hand on his chest to his eyes.
“Then stop worrying about it. She's only your beard. This is where you`ll always belong,” he whispered, reaching up to pull me down for a long, searching kiss. I forgot just about everything as his lips worked their magic. Sure enough, within minutes I was writhing under him as he moved inside of me with strong, sure strokes.
Cradling Andrew to my chest as we walked to my car an hour later, I paused to look at Ross in the doorway of his cabin. He lifted a hand to wave. I did as well. He was right. I would always return to him. As it turned out, Ross was right about quite a few things and seriously wrong about others.
One week after my first date with the lovely librarian, I was taking her to the cinema in town. Ross, in all his wisdom, felt enough time had passed to ask her out on my own. I did, one day after work with a cranky young man hanging from my neck. Forcing each word out, I smiled and shushed my nephew. Abigail agreed readily. I escaped quickly, my burden feeling heavier with each step.
Saturday nights were the date night in Hannity Hills. After I dropped Andrew off at Mrs. Lincoln`s home, I drove around to fetch Abigail. Andrew hadn`t been happy to be foisted off on the lady who watches him while I work, but we had to keep up appearances. I`d have much rather been sitting beside the pond with Ross while a million fireflies pirouetted over the water’s surface myself.
Instead, I was hustling around to open the door for my date. And didn`t she look spiffy in a blue dress with white piping? I tossed the guy seventy cents for our two tickets, gave the lady my arm, and escorted her into the theater. All the young and available were there. I doffed my hat a few dozen times, chatted up a couple of friends of Abigail`s and smiled widely as we made our way into the main theater.
“I just adore comedies, don`t you?” Abigail asked as we got settled in the back row. I nodded and placed my hat on my knee. We started off with a Donald Duck cartoon. The patrons chuckled at the animated silliness. By the time we were halfway through Blithe Spirit, I began to realize that nothing was tickling my funny bone tonight. Abigail laughed and laughed at Rex Harrison as he tried to figure out how to handle a second wife while dealing with the ghost of the first.
We left the movies and met up with some of Abigail`s friends at a bar on the outskirts of town. Those guys and dolls then proceeded to knock back the booze like prohibition had just been lifted. I nursed my gin and tonic. Last call was made. I had all I could handle with Miss Jenkins. She was not a pretty drunk but she was friendly. Real friendly if you get my drift. She whispered things in my ear that I would not have believed a librarian would ever say.
Life is real funny at times. Most guys would have been struggling with their conscious upon taking a drunken amorous lady home. Good thing our lovely lush of a librarian picked the one hidden queer out of the randy bunch. After peeling her fingers from the back of my neck, I removed her shoes, tucked her into her bed, and beat a path out of her house. Man alive, the look Mrs. Lincoln gave me when I rumbled up at a quarter past midnight was lethal. I paid her double her daytime rate. Andrew was sleeping beside me on the front seat as we made our escape from the “normal people”.
The following Monday I got dour looks from the ladies in the tax collectors office. I checked my breath several times. I even changed my tie due to a spot on my blue one. When the local barber came in to buy a dog license, I finally found out why the older women had been tacking me with the hairy eyeball all day.
“Word has it that you and Miz Jenkins got real friendly after the social,” Stewart Monaghan said. I glanced up from typing his dog`s information on a tiny paper envelope that would hold a metal tag inside it.
“I`m sorry?” I said. The man in the white smock snickered and waggled an eyebrow that was as thick as a mustache.
“Don`t got to play coy, lad! Cora Lincoln said you come for your boy way after midnight.”
“Oh yeah, after midnight. I`m a real active duty kind of guy.” I winked as salaciously as possible. Stewart guffawed, slapped his knee loudly, and then took off with a leer and a new license for his rabbit dog, Rumpkin.
Much as I hated to admit it, Ross and his repulsive idea seemed to be working. For the first time since I got that Western Union telegram, I began to feel optimistic. I should have maintained my blah attitude for just a little while longer it would turn out.
Copyright 2013 ©by V.L. Locey
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