BOO Read online

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  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.

  Boo

  Copyright © 2009 Stone Richards

  ISBN: 978-1-55487-405-7

  Cover art by 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.

  Published by eXtasy Books

  Look for us online at:

  www.extasybooks.com

  BOO!

  By

  Stone Richards

  Dedication

  To all my guy pals.

  Chapter One

  Paul Simpson pushed the bedroom door closed with his foot. Monty Graham and Seth Albertson were on the bed, naked, fucking. Their passionate moans and groans could be heard all through the old two-story house. He hurried to staple the string of black cats across the foyer entry. It was Halloween and everyone in the house was playing tricks on each other and having one hell of a good time but he didn’t feel the least bit jovial—or aroused by the sex acts taking place all around him.

  Scott Carmichael had been gone over a month and still his heart felt heavy. The loss was something he couldn’t quite get over. Once he had thought Scott was his companion for life, but things began to change gradually. Last year they had spent college break in the mountains, at a small rustic cabin belonging to Scott’s uncle Bob, and ultimately the thing on Scott’s mind came to the fore. Paul grimaced as he recalled his words.

  “You’re too fucking precise, Paul! You nitpick about everything.” He raked one hand through his auburn hair and stomped out of the bedroom.

  Paul watched Scott’s naked back as he disappeared though the doorway. He released a long sigh. Why couldn’t Scott just accept him as he was? Why did he have to keep on trying to change him? God knew he had been a perfectionist since birth.

  “I think we should see other people.”

  Paul gasped at the words as Scott suddenly burst back into the room. He hurried to throw off the covers and get out of bed. So what if he was particular with details? “Why do you let it bother you? You know it’s something I can’t control.”

  They had fought, again, over the simplest of things. Just minutes earlier Scott had wanted Paul to suck him off and Paul had asked him to wash his cock first. Scott had argued that his germs hadn’t killed him yet and weren’t apt to in the near future. Their words had become heated and before Scott left the bed and stormed out of the room, Paul had lost all desire to have sex. His cock had gone limp as they argued, which turned out to give Scott another subject to gripe about.

  The loud moans and heavy breathing of the pair behind the closed door came to his ears again. Paul gritted his teeth and worked faster to hang the Halloween decorations across the doorway. Try as he might, he hadn’t been able to convince himself to find anyone to replace Scott and the remaining four men in the old house wouldn’t let him forget how his obsessive attention to details had driven Scott away.

  He and Scott had met shortly before Halloween two years ago and the sexual attraction was mutual. By the time the holiday rolled around, Scott had moved into the house with Paul and began sharing a bedroom. They had claimed Halloween as their official holiday and shopped the local stores for just the right decorations to embellish the old house. It had been great fun and while the two strung the colorful paper decorations and positioned the plastic pumpkins about the oak tree, the sexual arousal was just too much. They had stopped twice to go have sex before finishing decorating. Paul grimaced at the memory. Scott had been the perfect sex partner. It was almost as though he could read his mind when they made love. He knew just where to touch him to send him into orbit and beyond. He sighed, pushing the thoughts to the back of his mind. Deciding to even hang decorations this year had been a chore in itself. The mere thought of reliving the good times he had with Scott seemed to make the project even more daunting.

  They had parted on good terms, as far as saying goodbye and wishing each other well. Trouble was, Paul knew he would never see Scott again. Once he watched his car disappear down the avenue, he realized he had lost the love of his life. He would never find another man to love the way he loved Scott Carmichael. He sighed and stepped down from the ladder. The noises had stopped behind the bedroom door and he felt a measure of relief travel through his insides.

  I should move. He shook his head as he picked up the ladder and moved to the living room of the old house. I should find another place to live. Maybe I could find a room on campus. He grimaced and lifted the box of Halloween decorations onto the coffee table. The problem with that thought was, the old two-story house, conveniently located off campus, was rented in his name. He was responsible for it in the eyes of the landlord and that meant if he moved, he’d have to evict all who sublet the rooms from him. It’s a catch twenty-two situation.

  He removed a string of bright orange pumpkin lights from one corner of the box. As the plastic pumpkins with their smiling faces and jagged teeth fell across the carpet, he warned himself about further memories associated with Scott and their time together. He groaned and allowed the memory beckoning to surface. The outside of the old house glowed in eerie hues of black and orange. Even the oak tree in the front yard had witches and goblins tangled in its low hanging branches. It had been a festive time—he and Scott laughing and stringing all the colorful decorations.

  Paul sighed and gathered the string of pumpkins. Those days are over. He fought the surge of remorse that gripped his gut. Crossing the room to the hallway, he retrieved the stepladder so he could attach the pumpkin lights around the front door. He picked up the stapler and paused to survey the door facing, gauging the distance needed between each of the lights. The spacing had to be precise or the whole idea of decorating for the party would be lost. It would look unprofessional and he wasn’t prepared for any ribbing that might accompany the inspection of his handiwork.

  The party would be starting at dusk. There would be food and drink. And there would be dozens of college students dropping in all during the night. Though there were parties scheduled at all the sorority houses on campus, there were an equal number planned at all the off-campus rentals the well-to-do students shared. Paul’s rental house was a block off campus and a favored spot for the gay students to stop at. He expected no less than a hundred or so to drop in. Each year the party grew in number and since this would be the final year Paul would be attending Westfield College, he had been looking forward to playing host—that was, before Scott packed up and left.

  “I’ll help you hang the decorations outside, Paul.”

  Paul jerked his gaze toward the voice. Seth leaned in the doorway leading into the room from the hallway. Paul nodded his acceptance of the help offer and returned his attention to the sting of lights. Seth Albertson was in his final year at Westfield and would be graduating with Paul in the spring. They were both law students, as were the remaining tenants in the house. All but Scott had focused on their intended futures and refrained from seeking outside interests. Paul sighed. Scott loved music and played t
he guitar with a passion he found unrivaled in most musicians he had encountered. In the end, his love for the instrument had taken precedence over his desire to be an attorney. At one such gathering at the old house, one of the music majors at the college had invited Scott to sit in with his band. It was the beginning of the end. Within weeks, Scott had turned his focus to playing music full time at a local nightclub and completely forgotten about his goal to become a lawyer.

  Seth was tall and lean, with blond hair that grazed his shoulders. He came from a family of attorneys, his grandfather and father were both in practice in New York and upon graduation, Seth would become a junior member of the firm. His future was all laid out for him. And he seemed to be okay with the idea—as long as he could choose whom he slept with and have a life of his own outside of the daily office routine.

  “Alex and Mark have gone to pick up the food for the party,” Seth said. He hovered near the ladder, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze pinned on Paul as he secured each pumpkin light to the door facing.

  “The keg has to be picked up, too,” Paul reminded.

  “I’ll go get it. But I still think we should get two. You know the party will go on all night. We don’t want to run out of booze. Word will spread fast and we’ll be called cheapskates by everyone on campus.”

  Paul glanced at Seth. He wasn’t too worried about what everyone else on campus thought. Most of the students who were expected to drop by would already have a drink in one hand when they arrived. “Halloween is the drunken social of the year, Seth. Every sorority and off-campus rental will have its share of liquor. I don’t think anyone will go thirsty.”

  Seth chuckled and stepped out on the porch. “Too bad Scott isn’t here to climb the oak tree and string up the witches and black cats.” He turned to look at Paul, a sheepish grin on his face. “Sorry, buddy. I keep forgetting that you’re in mourning.”

  Paul shrugged his shoulders. “You don’t have to apologize. I wish Scott were here, too. And I don’t mean just to string Halloween decorations.”

  Seth grinned. “You could use some male companionship, huh?” He nodded his head. “There will be enough guys here tonight to fulfill your wildest fantasy. Why not hook up with one of them? After all, a fuck is a fuck.”

  Paul considered Seth’s words. True. A fuck was a fuck—unless you were still in love with the man of your dreams. “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to tell myself that I should move on. I hate my empty bed.”

  Seth raised both hands into the air. “Maybe Mitch Wilson will be here tonight. I happen to know he has the hots for you.”

  “I know. He’s a nice guy, but—”

  “But you’re still in love with Scott Carmichael.”

  Paul nodded and went back to stapling the string of lights around the door facing. He couldn’t help himself. As strange as it sounded, Scott had ruined him for any other guy. He had gotten so used to having him at his side, been so content with his lovemaking and constant affection that when he left him, he almost couldn’t cope. He had spent three days in bed, tossing and turning, feigning illness and refusing to go to class. In the end, Seth and his lover, Mark Wells, had bodily dragged him out of bed, made him dress and carted him off to class. The memory was sobering.

  “Thanks for being a good friend, Seth.”

  Seth smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “Are you about finished playing around with those damn pumpkin lights? You’ve been fucking with them for almost an hour.”

  Paul gritted his teeth and stepped off the ladder. “Is it so obvious?”

  Seth rolled his eyes. “You are one compulsive dude. You should see a shrink.”

  Paul laughed in spite of the seriousness of Seth’s remark. “I know. But I grew up with compulsive parents. Everything had to be perfect or you started over.”

  Seth stepped into the house and retrieved the ladder. He carried it past Paul and into the yard. “Bring the witches and the black cats. Let’s get this decorating over before the guests start to arrive.”

  The sun was setting by the time the pair finished with the yard decorations. Black cats perched on the low hanging limbs of the oak and a saucy witch with a pointed black hat and straw broom hung suspended from an upper limb as though she were flying through the tree. Beneath the tree, a dozen pumpkins with carved faces and illuminated insides greeted those entering the front gate. A large black pot sat on the stoop with fake smoke billowing from its top. A bony skeleton perched in a lawn chair on the porch, his lanky white limbs askew as though he had succumbed to some awful Halloween prank.

  The front door of the old house was pulled back on its hinges so everyone knew to venture inside once they had admired the lawn decorations. A long table had been set up in the living room with paper cups and the chilled beer keg positioned on one end. An array of salty and sweet snacks was available for consumption. And a small tin can sat near the beer keg in case anyone got the urge to donate money for an additional drum of spirits. And music blared from a radio tucked into the corner of the room.

  Paul stood back and surveyed the room. Everything was in place for the party. Within an hour the house would be filled with costumed students all intent on ushering in the bewitching hour with drink and merrymaking. He observed each element of the room with a critical eye, then stepped over to the food table and tidied the stack of paper napkins placed near the snacks.

  “Stop fussing,” Seth exclaimed in a loud voice. “You remind me of my mother.”

  “Fuck you,” Paul retaliated.

  “And go put your costume on. The party is about to start.”

  “No costume this year.” I wish I was anywhere but here—in the midst of a party that only reminds me of how much I still love Scott.

  Chapter Two

  Paul gulped the last sip of beer from his cup and belched. His head was swimming from all the liquor he had consumed. He stared into his empty cup then levered himself off the couch. It had become apparent shortly after the party started, he would have to get drunk to make it through the night. As he looked around at all the costumed bodies gyrating to the music of the radio, he wished the party would be over.

  “Hey, Paul, nice party.”

  Paul forced a smile and nodded his thanks to the thin male dressed as a pirate. He wove his way through the dancers to the beer keg. How much beer would he have to drink before he passed out? He filled his cup and turned from the table. There were probably fifty people in the room and on the front porch. He had lost count of how many couples he had watched duck into the hallway and disappear. They were searching for a bedroom with an unlocked door where they could secret themselves away for a few minutes. He slid his hand into his jeans pocket, touching the key to his room with his fingers. Once, during one of their parties, he had inadvertily forgotten to lock his and Scott’s room and after becoming aroused during a dance with Scott, had been forced to evict a couple in the throes of passion before he could fuck with Scott. The whole episode had almost caused him to go limp. The sight of the fucking pair in the middle of the bed he shared with Scott had just about gotten the better of him.

  He shook his head, dislodging the memory. Since that debilitating episode, he had made it a mandatory custom to lock his door whenever he left the room for any reason. Becoming overwrought at the sight of strangers fucking in his bed had burned an unsavory image into his mind. He raised the paper cup to his mouth and took a gulp of beer. Finishing the liquor, he crumpled the cup and placed it atop the mound of refuse at the end of the food table. Grimacing, he reached for the trash bag in the container, intent on removing the refuse and tiding up when he was stopped by the warm hand atop his right shoulder.

  “Show me your bedroom and I’ll make you glad you did.”

  Paul turned to spy Mitch Wilson. He immediately took a step forward, forcing Mitch to remove his hand from his body. “Hi, Mitch. How are you?”

  “Horny. Let’s go to your room and fuck.”

  Paul shook his head. “It’s early. And you’re
already drunk.”

  “I’m not as drunk as you think I am. I can still get it up.” Mitch reached for Paul’s arm. “Happy Halloween. I want to suck your cock, Paul.”

  Paul pulled his arm free of Mitch’s grasp. “Thanks for the offer,” he murmured returning his attention to the trash bag.

  “How long are you going to moon around after Carmichael? You know he isn’t coming back.”

  Paul caught the slight anger in Mitch’s voice. So what if he was still hung up on Scott? It was no body’s business. He could be lovesick if he wanted to. He shook his head. He sounded like a teenager. Fuck! I need to get a grip.

  Mitch stood aside as Paul forced his way to the door of the house with the bulging trash bag then followed him onto the porch. A new surge of Halloween revelers was pushing through the front gate, commenting on the decorations. He waved one hand in the air, fanning the gray mist from in front of his face. One of the guys had turned on the smoke machine they rented from the party store and the yard was a blurry haze of gray smoke. It wafted across the lawn and rose in cloud-like billows into the oak tree. For a second he followed the rising wisps of smoke with his gaze. It gave the witch in the tree a surreal appearance, as though she were flying through a cloud-ridden sky on her magic broom.

  Paul stepped off the porch with the trash bag and rounded the corner of the house to the garbage can. Laughter came to his ears from the back of the house and he turned his gaze toward the noise. Two shadowy figures were visible beneath the weeping willow tree adjacent from the patio. As he stood still and looked on, he recognized the voices of Bob Thurman and Larry Golden. They were standing close together beneath the frilly boughs of the tree, their bodies so near they almost appeared as one. Paul sighed and pressed the lid of the garbage can into place. All around him, lovers were delighting in displays of sensual togetherness and each time he witnessed such a demonstration, his heart ached a little more for Scott and the wonderful times they had shared.