heaven on earth?”
“Huh?”
“Heaven on earth,” Gabe said. “If you could escape today, leave your life behind and go anywhere, where would that place be? What would it sound like?”
Was this his attempt at conversation? Nonetheless, Hunter contemplated his answer. He drew his arms tighter together beneath his chin, and his biceps flexed before returning to their mode of rest. “I’d drink a Red Stripe on the beaches of Jamaica. Or any island down there. Hot sun, hot sand, ocean.”
Gabe shut the blinds completely, then dimmed the lights to a snug glow. He walked to a bookshelf and thumbed through a row of compact discs. “And the ladies, right?”
“The ladies?”
Gabe inserted the disc into the boom box and hit Play. The sound of steel drums coasted through the speakers at low volume. His hand lingered midair for a moment as he turned. “Sure. There’s always a beautiful woman that ends up sitting beside you at the little grass-hut bar in the tropics, right?”
“Oh, right,” Hunter said, humming to the drums before he could stop himself. He gave a halfhearted nod toward the boom box. “I like the music.”
Gabe rubbed his hands together. To warm them up, Hunter assumed.
“I’ll start at the top near the shoulders and work my way down,” said Gabe. “When I reach your back, I’ll focus more time there. Does that work for you?”
“Sure.” Might as well. Hunter wouldn’t know what to suggest as an alternate plan. He removed his arms from beneath his chin and settled them flat upon the table, one arm parallel to each side of his body. Then he shut his eyes, focused on the music, and anticipated the relief he hoped would come.
Gabe began at the lower edge of Hunter’s neck, rubbing in concentric circles. His slender figure belied the strength in his fingers, which felt determined and firm. As Gabe progressed, he incorporated his fingers, forearms and elbows along surfaces and crevices in creative ways. Hunter picked up the faint aroma of unlit candles from the nearby shelf. Though he couldn’t identify the scent, it contained a pointed, woodsy tone that kindled vibrancy in his senses.
As Gabe’s arms brushed past Hunter’s face, once again Hunter picked up traces of his masculine, invigorating scent. The hair on Gabe’s arms possessed a wintry color tone, so fair that it glowed in the room’s dim light.
Hunter sensed his physical tension heading for unseen exits. Muscles shuddered and settled inside him. He hadn’t realized how much tension he’d stored until now, as his body melted into relaxation.
Though he kept his eyes shut, Hunter analyzed this massage scenario in the recesses of his mind. He probed the sensations and his responses to them.
He’d never had another man’s hands or fingers on him like this. Well, that wasn’t accurate. Back in school, he’d experienced it from team staff members after extreme muscle pulls. But today marked the first time a man his own age had touched him for an extended period of time.
This also marked the first time a man he’d found attractive had touched him like this. His belly quivered in a combination of sweet and sour. Hunter stifled it. What would Gabe Hellman think if he knew Hunter had enjoyed this moment for a reason that didn’t involve tension or discomfort? Though he’d admit it to no one, Hunter found himself searching for an innocent way to savor the moment. He had a rare occasion to dip his toe into this experience, a simulation of physical affection from another man, without anyone knowing it. Just one more secret to hide within the walls of his heart.
After lying still and enjoying the contact for a few minutes, nervousness crept in—the sense he had treaded into territory he shouldn’t have entered. With a mental sword, he attempted to slice away the attraction he felt. He constructed a wall to guard his heart from further exposure.
The salesman in Hunter couldn’t help but break the silence in the room. It
“Huh?”
“Heaven on earth,” Gabe said. “If you could escape today, leave your life behind and go anywhere, where would that place be? What would it sound like?”
Was this his attempt at conversation? Nonetheless, Hunter contemplated his answer. He drew his arms tighter together beneath his chin, and his biceps flexed before returning to their mode of rest. “I’d drink a Red Stripe on the beaches of Jamaica. Or any island down there. Hot sun, hot sand, ocean.”
Gabe shut the blinds completely, then dimmed the lights to a snug glow. He walked to a bookshelf and thumbed through a row of compact discs. “And the ladies, right?”
“The ladies?”
Gabe inserted the disc into the boom box and hit Play. The sound of steel drums coasted through the speakers at low volume. His hand lingered midair for a moment as he turned. “Sure. There’s always a beautiful woman that ends up sitting beside you at the little grass-hut bar in the tropics, right?”
“Oh, right,” Hunter said, humming to the drums before he could stop himself. He gave a halfhearted nod toward the boom box. “I like the music.”
Gabe rubbed his hands together. To warm them up, Hunter assumed.
“I’ll start at the top near the shoulders and work my way down,” said Gabe. “When I reach your back, I’ll focus more time there. Does that work for you?”
“Sure.” Might as well. Hunter wouldn’t know what to suggest as an alternate plan. He removed his arms from beneath his chin and settled them flat upon the table, one arm parallel to each side of his body. Then he shut his eyes, focused on the music, and anticipated the relief he hoped would come.
Gabe began at the lower edge of Hunter’s neck, rubbing in concentric circles. His slender figure belied the strength in his fingers, which felt determined and firm. As Gabe progressed, he incorporated his fingers, forearms and elbows along surfaces and crevices in creative ways. Hunter picked up the faint aroma of unlit candles from the nearby shelf. Though he couldn’t identify the scent, it contained a pointed, woodsy tone that kindled vibrancy in his senses.
As Gabe’s arms brushed past Hunter’s face, once again Hunter picked up traces of his masculine, invigorating scent. The hair on Gabe’s arms possessed a wintry color tone, so fair that it glowed in the room’s dim light.
Hunter sensed his physical tension heading for unseen exits. Muscles shuddered and settled inside him. He hadn’t realized how much tension he’d stored until now, as his body melted into relaxation.
Though he kept his eyes shut, Hunter analyzed this massage scenario in the recesses of his mind. He probed the sensations and his responses to them.
He’d never had another man’s hands or fingers on him like this. Well, that wasn’t accurate. Back in school, he’d experienced it from team staff members after extreme muscle pulls. But today marked the first time a man his own age had touched him for an extended period of time.
This also marked the first time a man he’d found attractive had touched him like this. His belly quivered in a combination of sweet and sour. Hunter stifled it. What would Gabe Hellman think if he knew Hunter had enjoyed this moment for a reason that didn’t involve tension or discomfort? Though he’d admit it to no one, Hunter found himself searching for an innocent way to savor the moment. He had a rare occasion to dip his toe into this experience, a simulation of physical affection from another man, without anyone knowing it. Just one more secret to hide within the walls of his heart.
After lying still and enjoying the contact for a few minutes, nervousness crept in—the sense he had treaded into territory he shouldn’t have entered. With a mental sword, he attempted to slice away the attraction he felt. He constructed a wall to guard his heart from further exposure.
The salesman in Hunter couldn’t help but break the silence in the room. It
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