Alain was prettysure he’d elevated pacing to an art form. March ten feet to the left, stop at the shadowy mountain that was a stack of moving boxes in brighter light, then pivot. Ten feet back to the base of the stairs, then pivot again. Take a quick peek out the window to confirm that the driveway remained empty...Check.Not a car in sight, although the streets were thronged with trick-or-treaters, and the neighbors across the street were partying under strobe lights to theMonsterMash.
It seemed he’d managed to find himself a house on one of those streets where homeowners tried to outdo one another for most over-the-top decorations.Lucky him.But the beauty of being the new neighbor on the block was that no one expected him to have all his decorative gourds in a row or to even pass out candy. At least not thisyear.
He made a quick check of the time on his phone -Eight forty-five.
One minute since you last checked, idiot -and pivoted back to resume his march. The pattern of it was comforting, and God knew he needed comfort after what he’d agreed to. His stomach flipped as he slid his phone back in hispocket.
What you need is sex,Kevin had told him last night at the gym. At the time, Alain had been flat on his back, struggling to bench one hundred and twenty pounds while all six-foot-whateverof Kev’s lean-muscled gorgeousness had hovered just behind him in spotter position, his crotch practically in Alain’s face. So maybe it made sense that the sum total of Alain’s response to this statement had been a sharp grunt that was a cross between confusion and pain. The trainer in Kevin had, as usual, taken this as a sign to push himharder.
Steve was an asshole, but you broke up months ago. You just need to get out there again, man. Get your confidence back. Don’t you think you’ve waited long enough?Kevin’s parting advice rang in hisears.
Once Alain had been upright again, he’d completed the sadistic-but-effective workout regimen Kevin had laid out for him - a program he never would have thought himself capable of before Kevin - and he’d tried to explain that Steve had made some fair points in their civilized, post-breakup brunch discussion. Alain was a programmer - code and logic were his strong suits, not words anddefinitelynot emotions. Steve was an artist - passionate and volatile. Steve needed words and attention the way flowers needed sunlight. He needed excitement and variety the way Alain neededroutine.
I’m too passive, Alain had confessed to Kevin as they’d showered and dressed in the locker room.Steve said I need too muchdirection.
Kevin had immediately disagreed.Bullshit! Didn’t you tell me once that you were the lead developer in your department? Weren’t you the one who perfected that new distributed algorithm thing two weeks ago?Kevin’s face had flushed like he was embarrassed, maybe about repeating Alain’s geek-lordaccomplishment.
Distributed optimization algorithm,Alain had reminded him. But he’d flushed, too, at the idea that Kevin had remembered the throwaway conversation they’d had a couple weeks back. Steve had never even tried to show an interest in Alain’swork.
So maybe Alain could blame his flustered condition for the fact that he’d then leaned back against his locker, dressed in only his boxers, and blurted out,No, he meantin bed, Kev. I need... I need too much direction inbed.
Sadly, the locker room floor had not subsequently formed into a hellmouth and swallowed him whole, though his face had burned hotter than Hell’s Sixth Circle and he’d prayed for instantdeath.
It had taken him a full minute of pulling on his jeans and toweling his hair, praying that Kevin wouldn’t give him lame platitudes about how he was a nice guy and there were other fish in the sea, before he’d dredged up the courage to meet Kevin’s gaze. When he did, though, Kevin’s warm brown eyes had been free of judgment, and fixed on him like he was consideringsomething.
In another time, in another place -that place being gay porn -that would have been the moment when the tinny pop music playing over the gym speakers morphed into something slower and more seductive. Kevin’s eyes would have flared hotter, the towel would have conveniently unknotted itself from around his waist, and he would havedirectedAlain all over the locker room - and hell, maybe the weight room, too, since this was Alain’s fantasy and he’d imagined the sexy, ginger-haired trainer going down on him while he was spread out on the press bench a time ortwelve.
Sadly, none of that had happened - and for obviousreasons.
In this non-porn-based reality, Kevin was tall and muscular with abs for days, and he was maybe all of thirty years old. His auburn hair waved back from a face that could only be described as gorgeous - straight nose, strong brows, dark pink lips with an intriguing horizontal dent right below them, and this one perfectly circular freckle right at the hinge of his jaw. Alain had passed many a killer workout by focusing on that freckle, imagining the texture and taste of it. In the three months that Kevin had been his trainer, and subsequently his friend, they’d never discussed his sexual orientation, but Kevin was the type of guy - honest, kind, intelligent, funny, and sexy as fuck - that every man and woman in a ten mile radius would, and did, salivateover.
Alain, meanwhile, was nearly forty and the dictionary definition ofnondescript. Light brown hair, light brown skin, medium height, medium build. He and his gut had reached a cold-war-standoff where he accepted that all the crunches in the world wouldn’t make it go away, but he refused to eat the modified cardboard-and-twigs diet Kevin said would get him results. His last relationship had ended in cheating (Steve’s) and tears (Alain’s), and when Steve had politely asked whether Alain would mind moving out so that his new man could move in, Alain had ended up fleeing the city and buying himself an enormous, echoing suburban monstrosity instead. Rebound dating, but with amortgage.
So, in short, if there were a man on the planet less likely to attract the attention of a young, model-perfect fitness nut like Kevin, he couldn’t imagine it. He hadn’t been surprised, then, when Kevin had broken the tense silence of the locker room not with a lascivious smile, but with the words,Have you considered a datingservice?
Mortified, Alain had stammered out thatnohe definitely hadn’t. That whole scene was so superficial, wasn’t it? Was he supposed to post a picture of his dad-gut and hope some poor sap swipedright?
But then Kevin had explained that the service- theguy- he had in mind wasn’t like that.I’ve got this friend,he’d said slowly, carefully, like he didn’t want to freak Alain out with any sudden movements.Tall guy. Gay. Gym rat like me. He doesn’t do random hookups, doesn’t dobars.
If this friend of Kevin’s agreed, and Kev was positive he would, it would be a sure thing. No uncomfortable chit-chat, no flirtation, no doubts.And, he’d added, rocking Alain to the core, his need for direction was no problem at all becausethe dude was anything butvanilla.
Anything. But.Vanilla.
Those words had ricocheted around Alain’s brain - fascinating and scary in equal measure. Was that what Alain was?Anything but vanilla?Was that what he wanted? His hesitation had apparently been all the confirmation Kevin hadneeded.
Kev had frowned and hesitated with the next bit like he’d worried it might be a deal-breaker for Alain.He’s never really wanted anything long-term that I can remember, which is why he hasn’t dated. What he’ll do is meet up with you and give you a night to remember. Call it a fantasynight.
A fantasy night. Alain’s heart started beating harder at the mere memory of those words on Kevin’s perfect pinklips.
W-what’s the fantasy?Alain had stammered. His cock had started thickening in his jeans, and he’d draped his towel over his arm like a shield to protect Kev’s delicate, probably-straight-boy sensibilities, but he’d gotten the distinct impression that Kevin had knownanyway.
Well, that’s for you two to figure out,Kevin had said, tossing him a wink that had nearly made Alain embarrass himself.But he’s a decent guy and you can trust him, I promise. Give me your number, and I’ll pass it on. He’ll get in touch, and you can work out your limits. Kink, bondage, whatever. He doesn’t do anything reallyheavy.
Alain had nodded confidently, like he’d understood what that meant, but then he’d shaken his head as his common sense returned from vacation and he’d realized what he was about to agreeto.
Kev, I appreciate it. I do. But I just don’tthink...
That’s your problem,Kevin had told him, laying a thick, callused hand on his bare shoulder, and ignoring the way Alain’s body had shivered at the contact.You think too much, Alain. Tomorrow’s Halloween, remember? The one night of the year when you can do something wild, be someone completely different for a night, with norepercussions.
