Coming September 6, 2009
Excerpt
Chapter 1
I prowled behind the barrier separating the turistas from the action on Santa Monica Boulevard as the Christopher Street West Gay Pride parade marched by. I was feeling pumped and ready for some hot action. I'd already been cruised by half a dozen guys who definitely fit into my hunk category, but I was looking for something special today. After all, I'd just suffered the indignity of my fortieth-second birthday. Proof that I was over the hump. A milestone I could have done without.
Well I was here to prove I wasn't. Too old, that is.
Then I saw him.
He might have been twenty-one, but since I didn't plan on taking him into any bars I didn"t have to card him. He'd stripped off his T-shirt and his muscled chest gleamed wetly in the afternoon sun. He was clean-shaven without a stray hair anywhere on his hard, bangin' body. A short shock of hair made him a natural blond, but there was only one way to prove that beyond a reasonable doubt. I'd have to see the goods myself. He had an ass to die for, and he sure didn't mind showing it off. He wore a pair of skintight cutoffs that hugged his bubble butt and outlined his bulging cock and a fine set of balls I suddenly ached to taste. I could even make out the thin line of the cock ring he wore. My own cock rose to press against my Levis as I imagined driving it up that dark channel and hearing him squeal. Our eyes met and there was enough electricity there to power DWP.
I pushed through a quartet of leather men gathered in the Mobil gas station, who were ruining the whole leather mystique by talking about last night's Lakers' game with the kind of enthusiasm my grandmother shows for her knitting. They opened to let me through, but not without a few glares that warmed my heart. The smell of gasoline mingled with a dozen competing fragrances from hundreds of hot male bodies.
"Faggots," I muttered before I actually squeaked by them and found myself standing in front of perfection.
He eyed me with a practiced gaze, and I grew harder. Grinning, he slipped his hand between my legs, squeezing my already aching balls. He licked his lips. "Nice package."
I put my arm around his shoulder and bent down to shove my tongue into his ear. He shivered.
"Got a name, tiger?" I asked, nuzzling his neck. "Mine's Wager."
He sighed and closed his eyes. "Bunny."
I drew back and looked down at him. "Bunny? What kind of name is that?"
"It's a long story. Maybe I'll tell you later, but right now I got other needs." He grabbed my hand and cupped my fingers around his pulsing cock. I was happy to squeeze. "You got a place we can go?"
I did. Eager to take charge, I wrapped my fingers through his and pulled him along. "Come on."
We were jostled as we made are way through the sea of spectators. I've been to past Gay Pride events in Weho, but this one had to be the biggest yet.
We passed a Los Angeles County Sheriff's Department booth where they were actively recruiting. That was a hell of a change from past years when the only contact the sheriffs had with the gay community was with their saps.
We passed the booth. Half a block down Santa Monica Boulevard I spotted a familiar face. What the hell did Markie call him? Preacher? Had he ever told me his real name? A cop of the old school. He always put on the facade of tolerance, but under it I suspected he belonged more to those club-wielding bullyboys from Gates' LAPD days. Not that he ever gave anything away in front of me. He was the model of political correctness personified.
He spotted me and his craggy, time-hewn face took on the look I was all too familiar with. It's a creepy look, eyes like sharks, never blinking, never wavering. Full of malicious glee at what he planned to do to next.
"John," he said. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"Ditto," I said. I parked Bunny behind me, keeping a tight grip on his hand. No telling how he'd react being this close to a cop, and I wasn't about to lose this primo player.
Preacher looked down at our entwined hands. I thought I saw his lips twist.
"Still the same old Johnny," he said.
"Some things are just meant to be." I took in his leather jacket and black linen pants. "What are you doing down here?"
"Keeping an eye on things."
Typical cop response. Ambiguous as hell. "Well, see you around. Say hi to Markie for me."
His eyes narrowed. "Sure."
I dragged Bunny away, and twenty minutes later we climbed into my maroon eighty-six Monte Carlo. I threw the car into gear and headed east. Only then did I dig through my Eastpak and find the E I had picked up earlier.