INTERLUDE II Read online

  INTERLUDE II

  BY

  STONE RICHARDS

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Interlude II

  Copyright ã 2007 Stone Richards

  ISBN: 1-554109-758-X

  Cover art: Martine Jardin

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

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  UPSIDE DOWN

  Stan Hilton slammed the phone receiver down in its cradle. There was no sense in arguing with Monty—he was dead set on selling his share of the marina. He combed his fingers through his hair, then massaged the back of his neck. For an entire week, he’d been courting Monty, trying to convince him that once the weather changed, once it warmed up, the customers would return. The profits would be theirs to reap again.

  Hell, he’d even promised Monty that in the event he was wrong, that things didn’t pick up and business return to normal, he’d buy his share. Anger fueled his movements as he slid from his perch on the stool at the front counter. He walked briskly back and forth in front of the large window of the storefront.

  The water was calm on the lake. A single powerboat cut a zigzag path across its placid surface, headed toward the dam at the north end. He stared at the rippling wake it left behind as it gradually disappeared from sight. If only there was a way to boost business during the winter months. But not many people lived at the resort year round.

  Lost Valley Lake sat thirty miles off the main highway. It was rustic and secluded, with winding roads that cut through the foliage. Tall hills and hairpin curves led the way into the heart of the lake community, with the two hundred acre lake spanning an impressive shoreline. Exquisite log cabins and multi-million dollar homes perched amid the steep hills and hung on sides of rocky outcroppings overlooking the pristine waters.

  It was a rendezvous point for nature lovers as well as boating enthusiasts, with hiking trails and private tours arranged by the Lake Council. An entourage of lake founders maintained the clubhouse and the main beach facility with an array of summertime activities planned every year for the families owning property at the resort.

  He hated to think of losing the marina, of not being able to gaze out across the water and feel the satisfaction of ownership of a business he had built with his own sweat and hard work. He let a dejected sigh slip from his lips. If there was only a way to change Monty’s mind—if only there was something he could do or perhaps arrange that would make him see things his way.

  Monty had always been a pessimist. He had always looked at things with himself as the loser. Stan wondered sometimes why he’d even been willing to go into business with him in the first place. Their personalities were, in most ways, the exact opposite. Monty didn’t enjoy the simple pleasures that Stan took such pride in, or revel in the outdoor life that Stan had loved since his first fishing trip with his father almost thirty years ago.

  He needed a plan—a plan that would bring Monty around to his way of thinking. But what could it be? What would change Monty’s mind about selling his share of the marina without even waiting until spring arrived and the return of business?

  He paced the floor, staring out the wide window. The trees were rapidly losing their leaves, becoming barren and stark against an autumn sky. Most of the inhabitants of the lake had winterized their boats at the marina. The slips were full—a good thing where business was concerned. Paying tenants were always welcome.

  Too bad Monty didn’t see it that way.

  The phone rang suddenly, jarring him out of the doldrums he had managed to slip into.

  “I’m on my way down.”

  The sound of Monty’s voice rang in his ear. Surprise lit Stan’s handsomely chiseled face. He hadn’t expected to hear from Monty, let alone see him again, so soon after their conversation about the property. He suddenly felt uplifted. Seeing Monty face to face might give him the courage to argue his case—or accidentally stumble on a way to change his mind about selling out.

  He rushed to the back of the store and hurried to make fresh coffee. He’d share a hot cup and try and reason with Monty. He opened a pantry door and took a tin of cookies off the shelf. Monty always liked a sweet with his java. He’d make it so comfortable for him that he’d be easy to persuade to wait on his decision to sell out.

  Stan could hardly wait to see Monty. He kept thinking of things he could say to him to make him see his side of the situation. He didn’t want a partner he didn’t know—someone that didn’t know the ropes of running a business. A marina was a special kind of business—one had to love the outdoors and the water. A person had to respect Mother Nature and all her wonders.

  He walked to the front of the office and stared out the window. Monty lived in the city. He smiled suddenly. Monty was a city boy. Even on the rare occasions he had come to the marina during the height of business time, he had seemed out of place. Perhaps that was the reason behind his now wanting to dissolve their partnership.

  He saw the dark Cadillac as it entered the main parking lot. He knew Monty was behind the wheel. He felt quite nervous suddenly about seeing him again. He gave his head a shake, puzzled and yet, strangely aware of another emotion that sprang up inside him.

  I feel almost aroused—turned on by the prospect of seeing Monty again.

  He glanced at his clothing, taking assessment of the plaid flannel shirt and faded jeans he wore. He was dressed to reflect the casual nature of the boating business. His clothes were clean, his face shaven, his collar length hair freshly shampooed—why should he worry about what sort of impression he would make on Monty? Monty had seen him at his worst.

  A sudden reminder of their history stole into his mind. Monty had consoled him when his twin brother had been killed in a car crash, hadn’t left his side for three days, carried him food and insisted he eat, when he hadn’t felt like it. He had even shared the same bedroom with him, having slept in a chair beside the bed.

  He combed his fingers through his hair. He thought a lot of Monty. He stared at his tall, well-proportioned form as he got out of his car and walked toward the front entrance of the marina office. The late afternoon sunshine bathed his blond hair in a glorious halo of radiance. He was dressed in a tan suit with dark brown tie and white shirt. He looked very professional—very much like the prosperous young attorney that he was.

  He was watching Monty as he strode toward the building when a movement from the car drew his gaze. A dark haired man, about Monty’s age, was emerging from the passenger side of the car, a cell phone pressed to his right ear.

  A shiver of awareness raced through Stan.

  Suddenly he felt out of place—much like his earlier description of Monty.

  He drew in a quick breath, trying to rationalize the men’s visit to the marina. Had Monty brought along the person he intended to sell his share of the marina to? Would the well-dressed young man now intent on catching up to Monty in the parki
ng lot--be his new partner?

  He combed his fingers through his hair and turned his gaze toward the front entry, a forced smile on his face as Monty pushed through the door.

  Their eyes met, held, assessed. Stan’s feet felt as though they were rooted to the floor. Monty came toward him, his hand outstretched and a smile spanning his handsome face. Stan stared at him, his mind racing to decipher the rush of emotions battering his insides.

  The moment their hands touched, Stan’s senses somersaulted. He wound his fingers around Monty’s warm hand and squeezed gently, welcoming him with all the warmth that was spreading throughout his body.

  “It’s so nice to see you,” Stan said, smiling broadly.

  Monty’s green eyes clasped onto Stan’s jubilant face. A blond brow lifted in speculation.

  “This is Chris,” Monty said, drawing the third man in the room forward.

  Reluctantly, Stan removed his hand from Monty’s and clasped the open palm Chris displayed. “Welcome to Twin Towers Marina.”

  “I’ve heard a lot about you, Stan.”

  Stan was surprised at his words. He felt the force of his grip on his hand and saw the scrutinizing gaze the young man aimed at him. He suddenly experienced that shard of uncertainty he had felt earlier when he wondered if he was dressed appropriately.

  Chris hadn’t relinquished his hand and Stan felt uncomfortable under his scrutiny. His ebony eyes were washing over his body in such a way that he found it hard to concentrate. He felt heat rise to his cheeks and a lump form in his throat. He darted his gaze to Monty, as though seeking intervention.

  “Monty tells me you’re an outdoorsman.”

  “Yes.” Stan’s voice sounded choked.

  Chris smiled and placed his free hand on Stan’s shoulder. “He also tells me you aren’t married.”

  A nervous laugh leapt from Stan’s parched throat.

  Get a grip!

  “I’m rather at home with my boat and my business.”

  The hand on Stan’s shoulder suddenly slid lower on his body, pressing firmly as it passed over his male breast and proceeded to follow the contour of his body to his waist. Stan winched uncomfortably and tried to break the clasp Chris held on his hand.

  “Have you ever had sex, Stan?”

  Monty snickered and turned his back to the pair.

  Embarrassment flamed through Stan’s insides. He wrenched his hand free of Chris’s.

  “That’s rather personal, don’t you think?”

  Chris shrugged his broad shoulders. “Have you ever fucked a woman?”

  “Yes.”

  Chris slid a teasing gaze toward Monty before returning his gaze to Stan. “Have you ever had sex with a man?”

  The mere mention of having sex with a man sent Stan’s pulse racing in his wrist. A quiver of lust as pure and hot as ever envisioned, suddenly gripped his insides. He looked from Chris to Monty, and back again.

  What was the meaning of this conversation?

  “Monty thinks you need to come out of the closet, Stan.”

  Monty chuckled low in his throat and came toward the pair. His gaze latched onto Stan’s flushed cheeks and his rigid stance.

  “Don’t embarrass Stan, Chris. Maybe he likes it in the closet.” He smiled at Stan. “Do you like it in the closet, Stan? Do you like lusting after me every time I come to the marina?”

  Stan felt as though he should defend himself—say something to put an end to the teasing by the men—but a little voice at the back of his mind kept screaming that they were right—he was in a closet—a closet of his own making. And he was wrought to leave it.

  And he had been lusting after Monty!

  Chris strode to the door of the office and pulled the blind over the window, then he bolted the deadlock, closing the business for the day.

  “What—“

  “I came to help you, Stan,” Monty announced in a kindly tone.

  He crossed the room to Stan and took hold of the front of his shirt. With nimble fingers, he began unbuttoning the buttons, pulling the flannel material aside and letting his knuckles graze Stan’s bare chest.

  Stan pulled in a quick breath at the first touch of Monty’s knuckles against his chest. He stared down at his hands as they worked on his shirt, his insides knotting with expectation. For the first time in his life, he was vividly aware of his body. Sensations he had never felt were gathering inside him. His temples were pounding—on the verge of exploding with new realization.

  His shirt was pushed off his shoulders and pulled along his arms, soon exposing his upper torso. Monty moved his nimble fingers to the belt at Stan’s waist, releasing it skillfully while Stan looked on, flames of desire kindling inside his body.

  Is this really happening?

  He dragged his gaze away from Monty’s hands to see Chris taking his clothes off. His dick jerked in his crotch.

  Holy shit! I’m not dreaming!

  He felt his jeans become loose and grabbed at Monty’s hands as he slid the material down the length of his thighs. Their hands collided as the undressing was suddenly halted. Their eyes clasped. Monty smiled.

  “You don’t want to stop me, Stan. Just let it happen.” He winked one incredibly green eye. “Just let it happen.”

  Stan pulled in a steadying breath and allowed Monty to finish undressing him. He kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his jeans. Naked, he looked at the other two men in the room. He felt like a fish out of water—hot all over and sporting a massive hard-on. He smiled suddenly, as though just getting the joke.

  Monty laughed suddenly. He shrugged out of his suit coat and tossed it onto the counter at the front of the room. He released the button on his slacks and slid the zipper down. His slacks fell around his ankles. He threw a careless glance over his shoulder at Stan and swiveled round to face him. His silk boxer shorts were tented at his crotch, revealing his erection.

  Stan felt himself growing harder. He dropped his gaze to his prick and couldn’t help but smile at the enormity of it. He felt suddenly quite proud of his manhood. A feeling akin to that of immense power surged through him. He eyed the two men and realized they had indeed come to help him.

  Chris seemed to sense Stan’s sudden revelation. He swaggered across the room, his naked body magnificent in form. He was muscular with well-developed pectorals, long legs with muscular thighs and he was covered quite attractively with fine black hair.

  He must be Italian.

  Stan grimaced at the thought. What did it matter—at that point in the game?

  Was it a game? Were the men playing a game with him?

  They came at him, dicks wagging at their crotches, and Stan watched with an expectancy that surprised him. In his wildest dreams he had never once envisioned himself on the verge of having sex with two men.

  Monty stroked Stan’s bare chest with one palm, gently sliding it along the contours of his chest and lowering to grasp his erection. He leaned toward him, pressing his chest against Stan’s. He squeezed his dick in his hand, gently pressing his fingers into his hot flesh.

  Chris ran his hands across Stan’s shoulders, making him pull in a quick breath. He lowered his hands, skimming across Stan’s waist to meld with Monty’s hand on his cock. Stan bit his bottom lip, trying to convince himself that what was taking place was actually real.

  Their hands were warm, groping, caressing in a way that he had never known. He felt himself becoming dizzy, leaning his body against the sturdy strength at his back. His knees felt weak—yet the massaging fingers on his prick were quickly bringing him to the brink of orgasm. He rose up on his toes, sucking in a quick breath as Monty bent and touched the bulbous head of his prick with his tongue.

  Oh my God!

  If he ever had a fond wish—Monty had just made it come true!

  He moved his hips, ever so slowly and tentatively, almost embarrassed to show that he liked what they were doing to him. He smiled slightly, unable to keep the pleasure from showing on his face. Sweat suddenly appeared on
his body, lying moist and shiny on his pale skin.

  Hands stroked and caressed. He felt Chris’s lips trail across his bare shoulder and linger at his spine. Lower he worked, his tongue wetting a strip along his flesh as he moved his hands to stroke hotly along his buttocks. He felt the pull of his strong fingers when he parted his ass cheeks, groaned out loud when Chris stroked his asshole.

  Monty laughed. He smiled at Stan’s reaction to Chris’s playing at his rear. He leaned in close and touched his prick to Stan’s as he held it in his palm. Stan’s prick jerked, making Monty laugh again.

  “You’re out of the closet, Stan.”

  Monty’s voice was a low whisper, puffing hotly on Stan’s cheek as he inched closer to him. Suddenly he kissed him, pressing his lips tightly against his and poking his tongue out to part Stan’s lips.

  A ripple of hot lust surged through Stan’s veins. He urged his mouth against Monty’s, knowing for the first time in his entire life that he was exactly where he wanted to be. Monty had been his obsession for almost five years—the entire time they had been partners in the marina. But it wasn’t until that afternoon that he fully understood the feelings he harbored for the man. His heart rejoiced as his body rapidly approached orgasm.

  He felt Chris push him forward and part his ass cheeks. He felt the hot stick of flesh as it slid between his sweat-moistened buttocks. Chris began to rock against him, circling his waist with his arms and finding his prick with one hand. He chuckled as his fingers mingled with Monty’s.

  Monty dropped to his knees and pulled Stan’s prick into his mouth.

  Stan let out a loud yowl—startled at Monty’s action.

  Monty began to suck on Stan’s prick, taking him deeply into his mouth. He aimed his gaze upward, staring into Stan’s surprised face as he sucked him.

  Stan stared at the blond head at his crotch. He wound his fingers amid Monty’s thick hair and pressed his hips forward, needing Monty to suck him deeper into his mouth. His spirits soared out of control. The action at his back and the action at his front pulled him into a vortex of sexual pleasure.