A Turn of the Screwed (3 page)

He was still sitting there, pondering that, when a young twink, probably not much older than twenty-one, sauntered up to him and slid onto the empty barstool next to him. The kid had what looked like a cocky, permanent snerk twisting the right corner of his mouth, a sneering smirk that spoke volumes of him and his expectations. In his hand, a froufrou tropical cocktail of some sort.

Geez, I’m probably almost old enough to be his dad, for chrissake.

Yeah,
that
creeped him out.

“Hi,” the kid said. “Tad.” He held out his hand and Scott realized, despite the high level and unusual angle, he was expected to shake with him.

Scott did, already turned off by the kid. “Hiya. Scott.”

“So, I’ve never seen you around here before.” He batted his eyes at Scott as he wrapped his lips around the straw of his tropical concoction in a deliberately salacious way.

“It’s my first time here.” Might as well admit it. While he normally didn’t have a problem talking to people, even strangers, he’d found himself lacking the motivation or intestinal fortitude to walk up to guys cold and start talking.

“This should be a crazy weekend,” Tad said, rolling his eyes. “So where’d you tell your wife you are this weekend?”

Scott blinked, shocked. “Huh?”

Tad tipped his head and nodded toward Scott’s left hand. “The ring. Or are you already taken and your guy doesn’t know you’re here?”

Scott couldn’t bring himself to remove his ring right then. “Wife. She knows I’m here for the weekend.”

“Ooh, that
is
kinky. Does she like to watch?” Tad leaned in. “
I
like being watched.”

This had taken a decidedly uncomfortable turn for Scott, yet he still couldn’t force himself off the barstool. He felt like a foreigner in a strange country where he not only didn’t speak the language, the culture was so vastly different from what he knew that he felt he stood out like a cockroach in an angel food cake.

I need a fairy godfather. Literally.

“It’s…complicated,” Scott finally answered.

“It usually is. Sometimes it’s better that way.”

Scott endured Tad’s attention for several more minutes before another twink called the kid’s name and waved at him to come over to the high-top he and several others were standing around.

Scott took that as his cue to escape, grabbing his drink and sliding off the barstool, spinning around to dash down the stairs behind him, when he nearly ran smack into another guy.

Now
this
guy, he was cute. Close to his own age, about three inches taller than his own six one, fine lines at the corners of his mocha-brown eyes, short brown hair with just a sprinkling of grey here and there, and a decent body. He wore cargo shorts and was shirtless, a short tat sleeve on his left arm starting at his shoulder and ending at his upper bicep in a chain tattoo with a BDSM triskelion on it.

“Sorry,” Scott said, jamming his left hand into his pocket.

The guy smiled. “No problem.” It was an easy, friendly smile. Confident. “Too bad you’re leaving.”

“The twinks are swarming.”

The guy glanced around him. “Ah. I understand. Want to walk over there and sit where it’s a little quieter? Get out of the kiddie pool, so to speak?” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder at the modern, glass-blocked bar at the other end of the pool courtyard area.

“Sure. Sounds great.”

Anything to get away from Tad. Not that Tad might not have been a nice choice if Scott was on the down side of twenty-seven instead of the high side of thirty-seven, but at this time in his life, he wasn’t looking for games or anonymous fucking.

Especially not when he had to think about Noel back home and how his actions would impact her. He wouldn’t give her up for anyone he couldn’t feel at least as strongly for.

While he suspected Tad could probably suck the stucco off the hotel’s walls with his snerky, pouty mouth, Noel wasn’t bad in that department herself.

As Scott followed the guy around the courtyard and toward the other bar area, he was now uncomfortably aware of men glancing at him. Or maybe at the mystery guy.

Another man, an older bear dressed in leather gear, including assless chaps and a tiny G-string that was more wishful thinking than an actual garment, smiled when they approached, extending a hand to the man.

“Hey, Keith. Long time, no see.” They shook.

Well, at least I already have his name.

“Hey, Marvin.”

“Didn’t know you were going to be here this weekend. This your new boy?” the guy asked, tipping his head as he stared at Scott. “Or is he free-range fresh meat?”

Scott couldn’t help but blush under the older man’s appraising gaze.

Keith glanced over his shoulder at Scott. “Don’t go poaching one out from under me, now, Marvin. I just started talking with him.” Keith smiled at Scott, something about his expression twisting Scott’s insides in a pleasant way.

“Well,” Marvin said, smiling as he slowly walked past Scott. “If you find yourself free-ranging this weekend, feel free to stop by my room. 137. The door will be open.”

Scott dropped his gaze and realized he’d focused on Keith’s back, the way his spine disappeared into the waistband of his shorts with a muscled dip above his hips.

Yum.

His mouth went dry, and he found himself sucking on his straw as he followed Keith over to the bar, where they grabbed barstools at the far end, a little quieter there.

“I can tell this is your first time,” Keith said after catching the bartender’s attention and ordering a bottle of beer. “Serious question—I’m guessing you’re here alone. Does your wife know?”

Scott gulped and nodded. “Is it that obvious?”

“I saw the ring. If you were married to a guy, he’d likely be here with you. Add to that, when a guy runs scared from a roving pack of wild twinks, yeah, pretty much pegs you as a first-timer fresh out of the closet.” He smiled, holding out his hand. “Keith Knepp.”

Scott was relieved to be able to shake normally with him, a strong, firm, but not an assholish grip. Callused hands obviously used to working for a living.

“Scott Gilroy.” He hoped Keith didn’t think less of him for having the soft, smooth hands of an office worker. The most physically strenuous thing he did at work was juggle multiple calls if they were short-staffed. He used the county’s small gym at the building several times a week, in addition to yard work at home, to stay in some semblance of shape.

This guy had the real, firm body of a man used to physical labor. Not to mention the tan lines where it was obvious he usually wore a short-sleeved shirt all the time.

* * * *

It was only sheer chance that Keith had almost literally run into Scott. He usually didn’t hit the tiki bar, but thought he’d cruise through it first tonight, before the twinks took it over and he’d have to peel them off him. He wasn’t looking for a tight bubble ass to spank or fuck, or some kid in the market for a sugar daddy.

When he’d spotted Scott at the end of the bar, the deer-in-the-headlights look had been unmistakable and irresistible. Not to mention Scott had blue eyes that Keith suspected would look even better when Keith had his cock down the man’s throat and the man was staring up at him as he fucked his mouth for the first time.

He had accurately pegged Scott as a first-timer. Yes, Keith was looking for more than a quick fuck, and a married guy likely took success in that area out of the equation.

He also wasn’t stupid and didn’t want to turn down a chance to pop the guy’s cherry, so to speak.

But what he learned startled him in a pleasant way.

“It’s a long story, and I’m not sure how much of it you care to hear,” Scott said.

“All of it, from the beginning, is good for me.”

Ten minutes later, Keith realized this had the potential to be a lot more than just a quick weekend thing, or even a series of planned rendezvous.

That the guy’s wife was willing to let Scott off the chain—if Scott was telling the truth, which the man’s body language indicated he was—and that he was from Sarasota were two points in his favor.

“She sounds like an amazing woman,” Keith said.

“She is.” Scott looked down into his glass, a fresh rum and Coke. “I got to the point where I felt guilty for how hard she was trying. I want her to be able to have a good life. She’s only doing the BDSM stuff for me.”

Keith took a risk and leaned in, resting a hand on Scott’s thigh. “You’re telling me you’ve never actually been with a guy before?”

Fuck. Me.

Scott shook his head. “I’ve gone out a couple of times with some guys, but nothing happened. I didn’t want a quick fuck.”

“Then why are you here this weekend?”

“I need to figure out what’s going on inside my head. I owe her that much.”

“So you’re a bottom?”

Scott nodded.

“A virgin bottom, literally?”

Scott nodded again.

Keith sat back and smiled. “Then why don’t we go have a bite to eat in the restaurant and talk a little more? If you’d like that.”

Scott nodded, eagerly.

“Let’s go back up to my room for a minute,” Keith said. “I need to grab a shirt. They’re sort of lax around here, but in the restaurant they insist on shirts and shoes.”

“What about pants?”

Keith grinned. “Define pants.”

“Ah.”

They left the bar area, Scott following Keith around and up the stairs. Keith was swiping his key card when Scott let out a soft swear and pushed his way into the room past Keith, pulling Keith in after him and shoving the door shut.

“Whoa, slow down, buddy,” Keith said, his motor already revving. “I’m driving.”

“No,” Scott whispered. “That’s a guy I work with!”

Keith peeked out the window, around the curtain. “Who, the redhead?”

“Yeah. Bill Terrell. He’s not in my department, but he works on my floor. I see him all the time. Shit! I didn’t even know he was gay! I thought he was married.”

“Yeah, well, you might not be wrong on either count. I don’t see a ring on his hand. It looks like he’s settled into a good conversation with the guy next door, just outside the room.” He let the curtain drop back and reached over to turn the lights on. “Guess we’re in here for a while. I’ll get my shirt.”

Scott dropped onto the end of the bed. “I am so out of my damn element. Why did I ever think I was going to be able to do this?”

“Hold on,” Keith said, walking back to stand in front of him. “What you do or don’t do here this weekend isn’t anyone’s business. I’m sure he probably wasn’t expecting to run into anyone he knows from work, either.”

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t help
me
. I didn’t think I’d meet anyone I know here.”

The plaintive look on Scott’s face was turning Keith’s crank, even though he knew the man was feeling more than a little bit of emotional distress.

He suspected it would resemble the look on the man’s face when he had a butt plug up his ass and was cuffed and collared, naked, on his knees, and looking up at him, pleading for relief.

But it also drove home another fact. “How do I know you’re not lying to me about your wife knowing you’re here?” Keith asked.

Scott pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped it, opened his text messages, then handed it to Scott.

On the screen, an exchange between Scott and a contact labeled Noel.

The first one was from her.

Have fun, and be safe.

Are you sure you’re okay with this?

I am. I want you to be happy. Just be safe and wear a condom and text me from time to time so I know you’re okay.

Keith returned the phone to him, changing his approach a little. “I’m not looking for a quick fuck, either. And let’s cut to the chase. I’m a Dominant. A sadist. If you spend the weekend with me, you’re going to go home with marks on your ass, and elsewhere. That going to be a problem?”

Scott shook his head.

Keith’s hand shot out and grabbed a handful of Scott’s hair, yanking the man’s head back. Keith’s cock ached, wanting inside that mouth and ass, but he knew he needed to take this slow.

Well, sort of slow.

Slow-ish.

“What was that?” Keith asked.

Scott’s eyes widened. “It won’t be a problem, Sir,” Scott softly said.

Keith grinned. “Boy, you are a fast learner.” He stroked Scott’s cheek with his other hand. “You and I are going to get along just fine, I do believe.”

After ten minutes, the guy disappeared into the neighboring room, allowing Keith and Scott to head downstairs.

“You sure you want to eat on the property?” Keith asked him. “I know a great sushi place nearby we can go to.”

Scott hesitated. “I don’t think I can drive.”

“I’ll drive. I’m good. I only had the one beer.”

“Okay, sure.”

Keith felt a little jolt of satisfaction at the win. Getting Scott somewhere else would mean he’d likely relax and open up even more. If they ate at the restaurant there, the poor guy would constantly be on his guard.

Keith didn’t give a crap where they ate, as long as it was quiet enough to have a conversation…and he got to spend it with Scott. There was something about the guy he really liked, beyond the fact that he was sort of a virgin.

There was a certain vulnerability about Scott that the sadist in Keith felt drawn to. Even more, there was something about the
man
.

They took Keith’s truck. Twenty minutes later, they were seated at a quiet table in a dark sushi restaurant without a single twink—much less a hunting pack of them—in sight.

The 911 operator was thirty-seven, loved his wife, but two years earlier, after eight years of marriage to her, had finally found the balls to confess to her that he thought he was gay…and kinky.

Bless her heart, she’d tried to help him out with the one issue, allowing Scott to take her to Venture, where between there and at home she’d tried to become his Domme. He’d never run into them the few times he’d made it over to the club the past couple of years, and he wasn’t a member of the Suncoast Society munch group, so it was no surprise their paths hadn’t crossed sooner.