Rain and Whiskey
Click on image to enlarge.
by B. A. Tortuga
Category: Erotica/Gay-Lesbian Erotica/Romance
Description: Galen Frost is used to taking what he wants, and after years as a semi-pro football player, he wants to get away from it all, making himself a home in a small Florida town. Shane is a beach bum, good time bartender, living it up every night, never really looking at the same guy twice. When they meet at the bar one night, sparks fly, and the heat amazes them both, like the burn of good whiskey. Nothing is easy with these guys though, and they have to ride out the storm that breaks between them when Galen's old life rears its ugly head. Can Galen and Shane find shelter from the rain?
eBook Publisher: Torquere Press, 2005 http://www.torquerepress.com
eBookwise Release Date: March 2005
234 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [289 KB]
Reading time: 202-283 min.
Man, the joint was rocking--the new band loud enough to make the bar mats vibrate all along his legs and up through his balls. Jake and Lee both fucking showed up and were working--Miss Lynn must've torn them new assholes after their last little Saturday night stunt--pricks.
Shane grabbed a bottle of Cuervo and started pouring a round of shots, laughing at Vic's lame assed joke about titty bars and avoiding old man Robert's roving hands, all the time moving to the music, knowing his ass in those jeans in the big mirror behind the bar? Money in the bank, baby.
Everybody who was anybody stopped by, chatted him up a second, grinning and trying to talk over the music. Jake kept giving him that 'how do you do that' stupid-ass, monkey-face look. Shit, he'd been tending bar here for a good long time--since Spring Break in '95. He'd come down to play with a couple three baby-faces from college and sorta stuck in the sand and the surf and the good life.
He was thinking he'd not go home after his shift tonight. He liked the crowd, liked the band, got his booze for free. And that way he wouldn't have to deal with that ... smell in his apartment.
Whatever the hell it was.
"Can I get a whiskey?" He could hear that voice right through the music, maybe because it had a drawl that wouldn't quit. Brown eyes, cowboy hat pulled low, and tall enough to lean right over the bar.
"Sure enough. You got a preference to type?" Oh, now, that was just fine enough to lick off a spoon.
"I'm not picky. Jack is fine." Fine and looking right back, too. Those sloe eyes went from his face to the mirror behind him and back, not a bit shy.
He flipped the bottle, singing along with the band, distracted by tall, fine and studly enough that old man Roberts managed to sneak a feel of his pecs. "Watch yourself, man. You know the rules--Miss Lynn don't allow that at the bar."
"Thanks. He do that a lot?" The fella nodded toward their pervy old fixture, hat just dipping.
"Yeah, he tries. Was better when Keith was here. Kid had a nipple ring and kept him busy." He winked, pulling his rag from his back pocket, wiping the bar down.
"Well, I can see why he'd be after yours." Well, now, that was bold as brass and twice as shiny. Shane flexed a little, knowing that he managed just fine, even after a full shift and a shitload of beer splashed on him. Shifting, Mr. Brown Eyes looked down the bar then back at him. "You working all night?"
"Nah. I'm off in..." He craned his neck to see the clock, back popping as he stretched. "Eighteen minutes."
"Good." There was a wealth of satisfaction in that single word. "You want to do something when you get off, you come on over to the corner over there." And the guy was gone, turning and showing him a fine, fine ass in Levi's on the way.
Fuck, he was easy as 'Come to Jesus' in whole notes.