A Knight at the Speedway
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by Jaxx Steele
Category: Erotica/Gay-Lesbian Erotica
Description: Professional motorcyclist Khristopher Knight's greatest day comes when he qualifies to race at Indianapolis Motor Speedway, until he realizes he has no one with whom to share the moment. Artis Kent has not seen Kris since college. With his race ticket in hand, he has the chance to meet the riders and maybe open the lines of communication again. When Kris and Artis meet up again, Artis has no idea that his world would soar to the heavens, crash to the depths of Hell and then rise to the sky once more. Can Artis's calm, laid back life handle a love affair with the fast paced Kristopher Knight? Or will there be too many crash and burns for Artis to handle?
eBook Publisher: Phaze, 2009
eBookwise Release Date: September 2009
20 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [68 KB]
Reading time: 38-53 min.
Artis Kent was bent over his desk flipping through the folders in his drawer. The slap of an envelope hitting his desk made him jump and look for the source of the sound.
"Who's the man, Artis? Who's the man?"
Artis looked up and rolled his eyes. "I don't know, Josh. Who's the man?" he asked his friend in monotone.
"Dude, I'm the man." Josh tapped his chest as he sat on the corner of the desk.
Artis went back to his drawer and continued flipping. "All right, Josh, I'll bite. Why are you the man--this time?"
Josh pushed the envelope toward him. "Today, I achieved BFF status, and because of that you're going to forget everything I allegedly did at your birthday party."
Artis raised an eyebrow at him. "Doesn't BFF mean 'best female friend'?"
Josh's brows furrowed. "Really? I thought it meant 'best friend for life'."
"Wouldn't that be BFFL?"
Josh's head tilted to the side and his eyes looked up in thought. After a few seconds he shrugged. "Well, I don't know, something like that, the point is you're going to love me and you're going to buy me lunch."
Artis chuckled and finally pulled the folder he needed from the drawer. "And why am I going to do that?" he asked closing the draw with his knee.
To answer his friend, Josh pushed the envelope even closer to him, smiling brightly. Artis looked up at Josh again and huffed as he snatched the envelope from the desk. Pulling out its contents, his jaw dropped and he jumped to his feet in glee.
"Oh my God! Josh, where did--how did you--" His excitement clipped his sentences as he moved back and forth happily.
"I told you, Artis, I am the man," his friend mentioned, flicking invisible dust from his own shoulders.
Artis hugged his friend and sat back in the chair laughing. "Aww, man, I was just sick knowing I couldn't go to this thing."
"Yeah, I know, but because you're my bud I pulled a few strings, asked around, and bada-bing," he snapped his fingers, "I came up with these," Josh finished flicking the top of the tickets.
Artis stared at the tickets unable to stop smiling. "Man, Josh, you have no idea what this means to me. How can I ever..."
Josh sputtered cutting him off. "Forget it, man. You've been walking around all week looking like someone kicked your puppy. I just couldn't stand it any longer. Now, these tickets are only good for qualifying, so--"
"Hey, no, qualifying is fine. I couldn't get tickets at all, for the race or qualifying. I'm good."
Artis handed his friend a ticket then stuffed the other into his inside jacket pocket. He shook his head and laughed again, still unable to contain his excitement.
"You are absolutely right, my friend. Not only are you the man, consider your alleged drunkenness and acting a fool at my party forgotten and I'm going to take you to lunch."
"Great! I knew you would." Josh hopped off the desk. "You can also pick me up tomorrow for breakfast. We can eat at Denny's and still get to the track when it opens at eight o'clock," he said laughing as they walked out of the small office of Kent Travel. * * * *
Artis lay in bed later that night, too excited to sleep. His day started off in the dumps because he was still moping over not being able to go the race on Sunday. It drove him crazy to know that he could attend motorcycle races all around the country, but he couldn't get tickets to go to one in his own backyard.
His day did a whole three hundred and sixty degree turn after Josh showed up. That little slip of paper burning a hole in his pocket left him elated. After lunch he was so psyched that he knew he booked more people on vacations or some kind of weekend getaway than he had all week, even though it was likely not the case.
Josh had no idea what a great thing he had done for him. Of course he knew of his love for bikes and motorcycle racing. They had been friends for the last six years and Josh knew he was gay, but he had no clue about the crush he had on Kris.
Kristopher Knight was one of the top motorcycle racers in the country. He was a native of Indianapolis and one of the finest men Artis had ever seen. They had known each other only briefly during college. Kris had believed even then that he was going to be famous motorcycle rider one day, but no one took him seriously. Artis had taken his first ride on a motorcycle with Kris and was hooked after that. He never knew if it was Kris, the bike ride or the combination of the two that sent the thrill through his blood, setting it on fire when he rode, but it never went away.
Two more hours went by with Artis staring at the ceiling. Finally, he took his photo album off the nightstand and pulled it to the bed beside him. He flipped through the high gloss pictures of races gone by, smiling. It all but documented Kris' career over the last ten years and showed how beautifully he was aging.
When he met Kris, they were in an auto mechanics class, back at college. He was a nineteen-year-old kid with a contagious wild streak. Handsome, with his dark and mysterious good looks, he could have had any girl he wanted on campus. Plenty threw themselves at him, outwardly wanting him, but he never showed signs of giving in.
On a few occasions Artis had questioned him about why he didn't date one of the many girls that offered themselves to him. He simply shrugged and said that they weren't his type, that he had other plans for his life. Kris never confessed what type he was. His dark eyes were so intense after conversations like that Artis decided not to bring it up again.
Kris' reputation for riding started to take off after that. Although he still found time to hangout with Artis, their time together was limited until he left school, never starting his senior year. They rode together one last time at Raceway Park and said goodbye that night. The next time he saw Kris was in a magazine two years later, when he won his first race as a rookie at the Club Moto Speedway in Livermore, California.
Artis turned the page. In college, Kris was a tall and slender kid with wild dark brown hair. His eyes were even darker, a brilliant ebony that sparkled with the gleam of stars in the night sky when he flashed that killer smile. He was lean, but his muscular structure was defined. It showed much potential of him becoming the sexy solidly build man he grew to be.
He let his fingers glide over the cellophane covering the picture. His mind recalled when he saw Kris last year in Texas and realized how much of a change there was. Not much taller than he was in college, Kris was definitely heavier. His body had filled out incredibly compared to the image before him. Although the picture before him showed his body nicely, the one in his mind had showed great improvement. Bulging muscles and rippling abs were all visible as Kris ran his hand through his long wet hair. The bright blue leather jacket he wore was open and the women that were around him pawed at his tanned bare chest. He smiled at the memory. He had watched from a distance, of course, not wanting to interrupt the photo shoot he rode piggyback on.
Turning the page, Artis' smile grew when he saw the next picture. He remembered that day well. Photographers were snapping pictures of Kris like crazy after his win at the Orange County Raceway.
Artis stood behind them, snapping his own pictures--as he did often did to get his own shots, when a woman snatched off Kris' jacket and ran her fingers down his gleaming chest. Everyone went wild. Artis had to hold his camera over his fellow photographer's heads, in hopes of getting at least one good shot, it was the closest he had been to Kris since they said goodbye ten years ago. Kris had been so handsome that day. His hair was damp and tussled, face flushed with excitement of his win.
The photo that was in Artis' book now was the best he had taken. The beads of sweat on Kris' face and chest were visible and alluring as was the sultry, dazed look in his eyes, as he looked their way with the woman draping off his arm. Artis had done his best to crop her out of the picture, but her hand remained. It was such a fantastic shot that the hand on Kris' chest with the long red nails pressing into his right pec only made it look better, so he kept it.
Artis had read in Moto-Cross Magazine Kris had won enough races to make qualifications for the race he now had tickets for, so he had no doubt Kris would be there.
This had to be the coolest thing in the world for Kris, to come home and race his bike on the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, he thought happily, wishing he could share in it with him.
Many years ago, Kris tried to talk him into breaking into the track one night so he could ride his piece of junk Harley around the track. Luckily, Artis had convinced him Speedway Police would hear that thing a mile away and he was far too pretty to go to jail. Their compromise had them settling for a ride along the dirt roads out near Raceway Park. Artis chuckled out loud at the memory.
This was the first time in a hundred years motorcycles were being raced on the IMS track. It was history in the making. He would be attending this milestone and catch a glimpse of Kris. It didn't get any better than that. Maybe he'd get the chance to open a dialog with Kris, perhaps even resume their friendship ... that is if he remembered him at all. Ten years was a long time and they both had changed over the years.
With a sigh, he flipped through the pages for a while longer and then returned the album to his nightstand. It was going to be a great weekend. He wasn't ready to go to sleep, but the sooner he did the sooner he could wake up and get it started.