Confused, I ran a hand through my messy hair and couldn’t help but notice how lusciously debauched he appeared in daylight. In clothing, he was hotter than hell. Naked, there were no words. Well-defined muscles lay at rest, his legs hairy, his cock half-hard…He made me drool, but that didn’t answer why he was in my bed.

  And Bessie, that feline traitor, appeared much too comfy in her spot with her new, favorite human. There was no telling of taste with cats, was there?

  I got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. I looked myself over in the mirror. There was dried cum on my skin and stuck in the hairs of my chest. There seemed to be some at the corner of my mouth, too. I had bite marks on my neck, biceps, and above my nipples. And were those…fingernail scratches? What the fuck happened last night?

  My breath was rank, and my mouth tasted of stale alcohol…

  No, no, no. I usually became a total slut after very few beers. This couldn’t be! No way did I get shit-faced enough to screw sex-on-legs Monty. I set aside that pleasurable…no, horrifying thought for a moment while I took a piss.

  I showered, found some old shorts and a many-holed muscle shirt to dress in before heading to the kitchen to make coffee and breakfast. I’d sort this out on a full stomach, and heavily caffeinated.

  After filling Bessie’s bowl with water, I cleaned the litter box and put food down for her before making a meal. Half an hour later, I was on my second cup of coffee and about to enjoy my pancakes when Bessie crawled into my lap, looking for attention.

  “I don’t see why I should be nice to you, Mata Hari,” I muttered, petting her despite her recent defection.

  “Why not?” a deep voice asked.

  I almost dropped my coffee cup when Monty stopped next to me, wearing the same clothes as yesterday. He kissed the top of my head.

  “What are you…why are you in my apartment?” I demanded, sloshing hot liquid as I slammed my cup on the table and folded my arms across my chest. Bessie scampered away and licked at the water in her bowl. Smart cat.

  He pouted and my cock twitched.

  Damn it. Now was not the time.

  “Is that any way to treat the man you wore out twice last night, or was it this morning? My ass is sore and I can barely walk a straight line.” Monty winked at me and went to rummage in my cabinets for a cup before pouring himself some coffee.

  “I said I wouldn’t sleep with you,” I said and scowled, though obviously, I had. “How…?” But I knew how. It just didn’t bear admitting.

  After stealing one of my pancakes, he said, “Alcohol, my friend.”

  Shit. It was worse than I thought. “I don’t drink at work,” I began, but he cut in.

  “No, you don’t. I’ve noticed that about you. It was after the show, and you were off shift. The rest of the band had already left, and I was heading to my car when a crazy fan wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer and got physical.”

  It was a little fuzzy, but I had a vague memory of a tall, apparently drunk dude trying to get a kiss from Monty, forcefully.

  “You happened to be riding by on your motorbike,” he continued, “and stopped. You punched the guy out, and I gratefully offered to buy you a meal. You said ‘no,’ three times. I insisted right back. You said ‘fine’ in a most begrudging manner and followed me to a bar that was still open.”

  Okay, yeah. “It was Josie’s place.”

  “Yes, that’s right.” Monty stole another pancake. At this rate, I’d get none. “So, we had a meal, and I bought you a beer. You refused at first, but eventually you drank it. You’re such a lightweight! If I’d known it would take only two beers to get you into bed…”

  It all came back to me now in vivid, embarrassing Technicolor. My body draped over his in the booth, making out like the end of the world was near. Leaving my bike and Monty driving me home—I must have given him my address…Torrid, sweaty, profound sex. Geez, we’d had no inhibitions whatsoever, and when he’d cried out my name…Christ.

  Again, I remembered how slutty I became when I was inebriated, and I’d heard enough. “And it wouldn’t have occurred to you to put me to bed and keep your hands off.”

  He laughed. “Why on earth would I do that?” Why indeed.

  “Yeah, why would you?” I was angry, but mostly at myself.

  I pushed my plate toward him since he seemed intent on finishing the pancakes anyway, then went to the counter to pour more coffee. “Finish my breakfast and get out.”

  I stalked into the living room with a steaming cup and sat on the couch. There was a stack of books on the table before it, and I grabbed the one on top as I set down my mug. Anything to get away from the unwelcome, embarrassing reality of Monty.

  “Hey, don’t be like that,” I heard him say as he walked toward me. “We could spend some time together today, or…”

  “Why?” I retorted, my neck craned to look up at him standing there, grinning like he’d just won the jackpot. “You got what you wanted, and you’re not the kind of guy to stick around for the long haul. No matter what happened last night, chalk it up to a fluke and move on to some other schmuck, okay?”

  I flipped to the page I’d previously marked and settled in to read.

  “Come on, Ben,” he said and sat, uninvited, next to me. “You always flirt with me on stage. Our getting together was inevitable.” He reached out a long finger to trace a line up my leg. “What’s wrong with doing more? Spending the day together fucking?”

  While the idea was tempting, I had already become an unwilling notch on his post. Well, I’d willingly participated, sure, but I’d been under the influence of alcohol. “Because it’s a dead-end road, and you know it.” I removed his finger from my thigh. “Thanks for the meal, for bringing me home, and for a hot night. You can see yourself out.”

  Monty raised his eyebrows. “You really mean that.”

  I smirked. “What, you’ve never been denied before?”

  “Well, no.” He sounded huffy.

  “You’ll recover soon, I’m sure. There are lots of willing bodies out there just waiting to fuck a rising star.”

  Monty stood and stalked to the door. “Nobody treats me like this, ever. You’re just a muscle-bound idiot with a fat cock.” He was hurt, and lashing out, and I got that. Didn’t mean his words didn’t sting.

  I winced internally, but I’d heard it before from others. “And you’re a spoiled rock star wannabe who thinks he can get whatever he wants, whenever he wants. So you did. Leave already, before I throw you out.”

  For a blink of an eye, I thought I saw remorse on his face, but it passed. He slammed out of my apartment.

  * * * *

  A few weeks later, Pearce took my spot at the door again on a Friday night so I could enjoy Rebel’s Ultimatum, since they were playing again. It would be their last night at the club because they were about to go on tour as an opening act for a mega-popular group. This was the band’s first step toward the big time.

  The place was packed, and though I wasn’t at the front of the crowd as I usually was when they performed, I was close enough to see Monty playing bass. He hadn’t sought me out once since we’d gotten together, and I consoled myself that it was for the best. I couldn’t be involved with someone so arrogant and self-centered.

  Toward the end of the set, I saw a little commotion. A tall guy who looked familiar had jumped on stage. Before I could move forward and stop him from whatever he might do, Monty leaned in and kissed him.

  Shock hit me as I recognized the guy as the person who had attacked the bass player the night Monty and I ended up together. I remembered the overhead light in the back alley shining on the assailant’s face. Now, the kiss went on and on, and wolf whistles encouraged them to take it deeper. Had Monty set me up that night in the alley?

  I was frozen in place, bodies bouncing around and against me as the guy stepped off the stage and Monty laughed and waved at the crowd. He caught my eye and the smile faded, replaced by a guilty expression. Busted.

  I immediately left the crowd, grabbed my tray of food from Sandy and headed to the employee area for some time alone. As I chewed my hamburger, I wondered why he’d stooped that low. Was Monty so desperate to get what he wanted he’d use subterfuge to get it? Apparently so.

  As I finished my meal, Sandy entered the room, concern etched on her face. “You all right, hon?” She knew all about what had happened with Monty weeks ago.

  When she sat next to me, I said, “The guy who kissed Monty on stage? He was the one I punched out that night in the alley. I think Monty set it up so he could get what he wanted, since I wouldn’t willingly give it to him.”

  “Fuck. I’m sorry, sweetheart. He’s a tool.” Sandy hugged my sweaty body and glanced at the clock. “Go get cleaned up and I’ll take back your tray. We can talk more later, if you want.”

  “I appreciate the offer of a shoulder, but I’ll be fine. I’ll visit the retirement home tomorrow and read to the residents. It’ll take my mind off things.”

  “You do that. Call me if you need to unload, though, okay?” She kissed my forehead and left.

  I changed into a blue T-shirt, wiped off the sweat and went out front to take over from Pearce.

  As I worked, I couldn’t stop thinking about what Monty had done to me. Is that how he truly saw me? A stupid bouncer, someone without a thought in his head and no feelings? It certainly wasn’t the first time it had happened, but for him to be one of those people really hurt.

  It was at times like these that I tired of the club scene, of people making assumptions because of my size or what I did for a living. Maybe someday I’d get fed up enough to leave.

  On the upside of things, it seemed that Pearce had overcome his issues with John DeWitt. They were actually together now, and when I’d last glimpsed them on the dance floor, they’d been hot enough to start a fire. I was happy for them.

  * * * *

  An hour or so later, the crowd dwindled to something more manageable since the show was over. It was after midnight, and most folks just wanted to dance to house music and get blitzed. Dawson was done for the evening, so it was just me minding the door.

  “Can we talk for a minute?” a familiar voice asked. I glanced to my left and saw Monty standing there, hands in his front pockets, his demeanor nervous.

  I placed my attention back on the line of people before me as I replied, “Nothing to talk about, Monty.” I made change for a customer and stamped his wrist before he went inside. Of course, he recognized Monty and tried to flirt, but strangely enough, he was ignored.

  Monty cleared his throat. “What I did and said was shitty and I’m sorry.”

  I stamped quite a few more hands before the line was gone, then replied, “You were so determined to get something you were denied that you had to play dirty to get it.” I faced him. “You are many things, Monty Mabuse, but I didn’t think even you would do something so ugly.”

  He looked pissed. “You were flirting with me, too, you know. What do you expect when you tease a man and don’t give up anything?”

  “Oh, so I’m in the wrong? Haven’t you ever flirted for fun? Not to get anything out of it but because it felt good?”

  “But that’s a fucking waste of time. Why not just go for what you want and get it over with?”

  “And that’s the reason why I didn’t want to get together with you. I see the big picture, Monty. I’m a commitment kind of guy. That’s what I want. I knew someone like you wouldn’t get that, maybe never did. It’s funny, though. If you’d asked me out on a couple of dates and made an effort at being something other than a selfish, spoiled little shit, I might have given in anyway. I’m a sucker for romance. But you got what you wanted, right?”

  He looked embarrassed and was about to say something more, when a voice cut him off.

  “Hey, Monty. You ready?”

  I glanced behind the bass player to see the same guy who’d French-kissed him walk up and nibble his ear. Tall dude smirked at me. The black eye I’d given him had faded.

  They deserved each other. “Congrats on your tour, Monty. I’m sure you and the band will make millions. You’ll have fans wanting to fuck you from here to China. Then you’ll never be lonely or have to worry about trying to be anything other than what you are.”

  Monty tried again. “Ben, I’m sorry,” but his companion pulled him away.

  I turned my back and stared into the street, waiting for customers.

  I’d definitely be visiting Mable’s Retirement Home the next day. It would be better than moping at home, thumbing through the classics.

  * * * *

  I was reading Anne of Avonlea to Mrs. Hemming on Sunday afternoon when Jake Monteague, manager of the retirement home, stopped by for a chat.

  “How’ve you been, Ben?” he asked, pulling up a chair to join us in the corner where we sat.

  “I’m fine, thank you, Mr. Monteague.” He was an African-American gentleman, very distinguished and finely made with more degrees than I thought possible for someone his age. The man was only thirty-five, after all. Still, he managed to be down to earth and approachable for us lesser mortals.

  “We always appreciate your visits,” he continued. “I know the residents enjoy hearing your voice when you read those stories. Brightens their day, doesn’t it, Mrs. Hemming?”

  The older woman he addressed smiled broadly, her face wreathed with wrinkles. “Oh it’s an absolute joy to have him here. Nice to look at, too.” She winked at me, and I laughed.

  “You’ve been trying to get me to go out with you on a date for years now. What would your husband say?” I asked, teasing.

  “He’d say ‘thanks for taking her off my hands’!”

  We all laughed at that statement. Mrs. Hemming, seventy-five years young, was a hoot. “Well, I’m willing if you are,” I said.

  Mr. Monteague stood. “Ben, when you’re done here, would you mind stopping by my office?”

  Curious as to what he would want, I nodded and watched him walk away.

  “You know,” Mrs. Hemming whispered, leaning closer to me. “He’s single at the moment. That hot young thing, Harvey Riddle, broke up with him a little while ago.”

  I stared in shock and suspicion at her. “What on earth are you cooking up in that overly active brain of yours?”

  Her innocent stare hid a devious nature I knew only too well from past experience. Like when she tried to set me up with Jason, the cook. The very straight cook. “Nothing at all. Just throwing it out there, is all.”

  I narrowed my eyes and glared at her. “Behave, young lady, or I’ll have to put you over my knee.”

  “Would you, dear?” She sounded so wistful that I almost believed her until she cackled. “You should have seen your face!”

  “Don’t do that!”

  “Why not? When you arrived this afternoon, you looked like you carried the world on your shoulders.”

  I shrugged. “Perhaps I did. But I feel better now, thanks to you.”

  She patted my leg. “Good.”

  I read another chapter of the story, then stood. “I’ll try to stop by again soon.”

  “You’d better. We miss you when you’re not here.”

  I kissed her cheek and headed to Jake’s office.

  I knocked on the door and he bid me to enter. I liked the look of his office, not overly ostentatious, books everywhere, and a few paintings on the walls. Somehow, he managed to make it homey.

  “Have a seat, Ben.” Jake leaned back in his leather chair and smiled. “You know the residents here love you. Sure, they like the other folks that stop by, but with you? It’s as though they light up inside. You have a gift, you know.”

  I blushed. “I’m just happy to provide a service of sorts. I enjoy it. It reminds me of reading to my mom while she was bedridden. It always made her feel better to hear my voice.”

  “I bet it did. Here’s the reason why I asked you to stop by. I need a new activities coordinator. Glen moved on to another position. Now, I’m aware you already have a job at the club, but I wondered if you’d consider this instead? The pay is decent, and you’d be making the seniors happy, I guarantee it.” His eyes twinkled at me.

  I chuckled. “You’re almost as bad as Mrs. Hemming.” I shifted in my chair. “I’ve thought about doing something different from time to time, but I’m not sure if this is it. I mean, I enjoy spending time here, but don’t really know if I’m truly qualified.”

  He stared intently at me. “You’re a very intelligent, well-read man with a zest for life, and a patience and affection for a segment of the population that is often cast aside by the young.”

  I shrugged. “I’m not the only one, though.”

  “True enough, but I really think you’d fit in well here. Doesn’t hurt that you’re good looking, too, according to the residents, of course.” He winked at me, and I blushed again.

  “Flattery won’t work.”

  Jake grinned. “Hey, it was worth a shot. Seriously, think about it, okay? Give me an answer in a week or so. You can call my cell phone.” He handed me a card. “I think you’d be perfect for this position. Enthusiasm and a love for seniors is half the job. The rest you can learn. It’s up to you.”

  “I appreciate the offer.” I stood, and he did the same. “Thank you, Mr. Monteague, and I’ll get back to you soon.”

  “Call me Jake, and I look forward to it,” he replied as we shook hands. Before I could open the door on my way out, he added, “One more thing. I’m sure by now Mrs. Hemming has told you I’m single again?”

  I laughed. “Why yes, she did.”

  “She pimps me out every chance she gets.” He shook his head. “Anyway, would you like to have a drink with me sometime? Coffee? Or, I don’t know…maybe a walk in the park…a movie? Uh…” He sighed. “Well, hell.”

  I grinned. This from a man with two doctorates. “Are you actually babbling?”

  He cleared his throat and smoothed a hand down the front of his impeccably tailored suit. “I do that only when I’m in situations like this. So, interested? And no, it’s not a way to convince you to come work for me. But if it helps…” He smiled.

 

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