Excerpt Day: Gym Dandy by Storm Grant
Gym Dandy by Storm Grant
Release Date: 01/2009
ISBN: 978-1-934531-94-5 (print)
978-1-934531-95-2 (ebook)
Publisher: MLR Press
Publisher Link: http://www.mlrpress.com/ShowBook.php?book=GYMDANDY
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Blurb: A gay tale of seduction and denial, humor and sweat. Mixed signals or glitchy gaydar? After a first kiss gone horribly wrong, out and outgoing personal trainer Victor Brighton settles for friendship with handsome new client Douglas Newkirk. But is Doug in denial? Each time the boys get close, something or someone interferes: ex-wives, ex-boyfriends, bitchy bosses, even the cable guy. Will our guys work it all out? Read Gym Dandy and find out. Gym Dandy is a little erotic and a lot entertaining, featuring clever plot twists, engaging characters, and a happy ending. There's even a dog!
Excerpt:
Conversation stuttered to a halt; awkward was the watchword of the moment. Johnnie appeared magically at the edge of their little circle doing the solicitous host thing - did anyone need drinks? Food? A cab home?
Doug had nudged right up against Victor, his arm now slung lazily around Victor’s waist, stroking his hip lightly, possessively. Yolanda and Hewitt were both riveted on it.
Yolanda snapped her attention from Doug’s drifting fingers to glare at Johnnie. “Oh, Gordon and I are fine, thank you.” Her voice dripped sarcasm. “But I think Victor and his…friend need to get a room.” If her eyes hadn’t already been green…
Johnnie glanced knowingly at Doug and Victor, who were virtually joined at the hip and gazing into one another’s eyes. Johnnie rolled his own, muttering “straight as a pretzel” almost too low for Victor to pick up with his peripheral hearing. “It’s okay, Yolanda,” he crooned. “You’re just being a bitch ‘cause Victor’s boyfriend is better looking than yours.”
Yolanda sputtered and Hewitt looked confused. Johnnie wisely swept Doug and Victor away from the happy couple before he could do any more damage to his partner’s career, since Maurice worked for Yolanda’s law firm and she had been known to be vindictive on occasion.
As they moved away from Victor’s ex and her new beau, Doug hung onto Victor, making it twice as difficult for them to cut through the crowd of revelers.
“It’s okay, Doug. You can let go now. I appreciate what you did back there, but I’m fine now.”
Without letting go of Victor, Doug used his free hand to grab back the drink he’d brought for Victor and down the last bit. “But I thought you liked me?” Doug’s smile was both provocative and insecure. He was obviously looking for reassurance and… making advances?
“I do like you. You don’t have to ask. I just -”
“Good. Let’s get another drink. Your glass appears to be empty.” This time Doug more or less dragged Victor toward the punch table. He reluctantly let go of Victor long enough to grab a glass in each hand, but instead of handing one to Victor, he brought it to Victor’s lips and tipped it slightly back. Startled, Victor had to quickly swallow or wear it - and he’d always been good at swallowing. He wrapped both hands around Doug’s to steady the glass, as Doug’s focus appeared to be lower.
“You spilled some, Victor.” Doug leaned down to lick his friend’s punch-dribbled chin.
“Doug. Doug. Doug! What’s going on here? Who put you up to this?” Victor glanced around, feeling a little pissed-off as well as a little piss-drunk, trying to see if he was the brunt of somebody’s practical joke.
“Well, Maurice and Johnnie thought it would be a good idea.” Victor snapped his gaze back to Doug’s eyes; what little focus he had was definitely centered on Victor. “They said it wasn’t fair that Yolanda was all over her new…friend, and that I should go over and pretend to be your… friend. I said I didn’t want to deliberately mislead anyone, but they said just go do what I normally do when I’m with you, only a bit more so. So I did, and now I can’t seem to stop.” His tipsy babble was punctuated by owlish blinks. He reached for Victor, then confusedly focused on the drinks that occupied both hands. He appeared to have solved the problem by chugging the first one, then going for the other.
“Stop, Doug. Stop!” Victor grabbed the drink that headed toward Doug’s open mouth and set both glasses back on the table. “I mean… just… you’re not used to alcohol. And, and…” His feeble protests were silenced as Doug’s mouth descended over his.
Doug kissed slowly, persuasively, tongue caressing and slicking Victor’s surprised lips - lips that almost opened and accepted the insistent seduction. Then he grabbed both of Doug’s wrists again and levered back from the other man. “No. Doug. No. Just…back off. Okay?”
Doug blinked at him, confusion evident. He almost looked like he was going to cry. Oh, God. A sappy drunk. Just what I need.
People were starting to stare…and comment:
“Well, shit, baby. I’ll sure take you if he doesn’t.”
“I wouldn’t be turning that down.”
“There’s always someone gets drunk and makes a scene.”
Victor grabbed Doug’s hand and dragged him toward the exit.
Knowing the area well, Victor hauled Doug down a narrow alley that would bring them swiftly to the lot where they’d left the car. Victor was still sober enough to drive, having had fewer than two drinks, cumulatively. Doug, however, decided he liked this alleyway just fine and flipped himself back against the wall, using surprise and momentum to pull Victor toward him - into his arms, against his body, between his widespread legs.
“Don’t you want this?’ He murmured into Victor’s gel-crunchy hairline. “Don’t you want me?”
Any protest died on Victor’s lips when he felt Doug rub against him, a smooth slide that ran the length of his dick and brought it to hardness quick enough to make his head spin. And he had had nearly two drinks.
Caution be damned. “Oh, yeah! Doug. Baby.” Ardent nonsense words escaped him, despite his resolve. After all, Doug had started this, hadn’t he? He grabbed Doug’s hips and mirrored the motion against Doug’s hard cock. Doug hissed between clenched teeth and threw his head back, smacking it lightly on the brick wall behind him. “Yes,” he hissed again, reassuring Victor before he could worry about the wall.
“Want you. Want you. Always wanted you.” Victor’s words spilled out, reassuring Doug and himself. He ground himself against his friend again.
Doug jabbed his hips into Victor’s, all staccato out-of-control: not sophisticated and sensual, but dirty and sexy and inexperienced enough to be an incredible turn-on.
“Ohhhh,” Doug moaned.
“Ohhhh,” Doug moaned again, but this one didn’t sound quite right to Victor. He pulled back, forcing himself to sober up as much as he could, stoned less on punch than on his own body chemistry: adrenaline, hormones, endorphins.
“Ohhhh, God. Going to be sick. Victor. Victor!” Doug started to lurch sideways down the wall. Victor grabbed him and bent him over so he’d miss their shoes - mostly.
Afterward, Doug sat shaking in the passenger seat, insisting he be dropped home rather than at Victor’s apartment as suggested. He clearly asked Victor to leave after he’d helped the no-longer-quite-so-drunk man to bed. Jack lay flat on the mat beside the bed, whining a little in sympathy as Doug moaned softly and complained about whirling rooms.
“Got the spins, huh, Doug? Welcome to the exciting world of alcohol. Any wonder why it’s so popular?” Victor moved the wastebasket close to the bed, putting two Aspirin, two Dramamine and two glasses of water on the nightstand.
“Not now. This is hardly the time for a lecture,” Doug groaned.
“Sorry,” Victor said, but he really didn’t mean it. He felt more than a little under-appreciated at the moment. None of this was his fault, after all. It wasn’t exactly flattering to have a guy kiss you, puke on you, and bitch you out all in the space of an hour. “I’m not sure I should leave you alone.”
“That’s just silly, Victor,” Doug snapped, the effect ruined by the slightly slurred speech. “Now, please. Nobody ever died of a hangover. Well, unless there was alcohol poisoning involved, but we don’t need to go into that right-”
Victor shoved the pills into Doug’s mouth, followed by a short swallow of water to wash them down.
Doug choked a little, grabbed the water and drank the rest of it. “Thank you, but I’d really just like to be left alone now.” In response to the whining coming from the side of the bed, Doug added, “No, you can stay, but I’ll have no lectures from you either.”
Jack quieted and returned nose to paws.
Victor hovered a bit longer, then, not entirely sure he was doing the right thing, finally let himself out of Doug’s tiny apartment. He didn’t feel so great himself, having been given the old one-two sucker punch to the gut tonight, first by Yolanda, then by Doug. God, he couldn’t win for losing. He’d been thinking of getting another tattoo, what with them being so popular nowadays and all. Maybe something in a nice, Celtic L, centered on his forehead.
Shit. He’d have to call Maurice tomorrow and apologize. He headed home, where he almost gave in to the temptation to pull something hard and wet out of the liquor cabinet and get drunk himself. But years of experience with failed romance - Yolanda, Yolanda, and Yolanda - had taught him that alcohol only made things worse. He washed the cigarette-scented gel out of his hair and climbed into bed. Sleep was a long time coming - even after he had, twice, with sad thoughts of lovers lost to keep him company on that lonely journey.
TO BE CONTINUED…