Friends and Lovers

ISBN: 978-1-935509-07-3

Ebook ISBN: 978-1-61098-294-8

Published by

The Nazca Plains Corporation ®

4640 Paradise Rd, Suite 141

Las Vegas NV 89109-8000

© 2009 by The Nazca Plains Corporation. All rights reserved.

No part of this work may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, microfilm, and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. Printed in the United States of America.

PUBLISHER’S NOTE

Friends and Lovers
is a work of fiction created wholly by
Tinnean’
s imagination. All characters are fictional and any resemblance to any persons living or deceased is purely by accident. No portion of this book reflects any real person or events.

Cover Photo, Frenk Kaufmann

Art Director, Blake Stephens

Dedication

This is for three very special people: To Gail, cherest of chere amies, who was here almost from the beginning. She helped make this the story it is. To Tim, who’s much more than a cyber buddy. He was the inspiration for writing this story. And as always, to Bob, who emptied the dishwasher so I could have the time to write this story.

Friends and Lovers

First Edition

Tinnean

Contents

Chapter 1

The Perfect Blendship

Chapter 2

Oh, What a Night

Chapter 3

Except This Monday

Chapter 4

Flu Season

Chapter 5

Weekend on Amelia Island

Chapter 6

Coming Together

About the Author

Tom Hansom thumbed through his high school yearbook and smiled when he found the picture he was looking for, then ran his fingertips over the grainy image of the broad shoulders covered by the football uniform.

Jack Sweet.

They’d been friends at that time, but in the years since he’d returned to take up teaching in Savannah, they’d become best friends.

A wallet-sized photo fell from the pages where it had been tucked away, and he bent to retrieve it. He laughed at the comment his friend had scrawled on the back. 

6’2”? – Fairy tales can come true, it can happen to you!
– The big goof had even drawn a smiley face.

Never the tallest of men, Tom had only been about 5’6” when that picture had been taken. The growth spurt he’d anticipated had only added a couple of inches to his height.

His friend had great fun teasing him about needing to stand on tiptoe when the doctor measured him in order to top out at 5’8”.

But what meant the most to him was the fact that this big, bear of a man who ran his own construction company, drank beer with the guys, and chased muff, didn’t care two hoots that he was gay.

Tom glared at the clock on the wall outside his office in Wayne Hall, the chemistry building of Pulaski and Jasper College. It was only 9:15. In the morning.

“You could still be in bed, you know,” he growled to himself. He wasn’t a morning person and always arranged his schedule so his classes wouldn’t interfere with his night-time activities. “Your first class isn’t for another hour.”

“Yeah, well,” he growled back at himself, “for all the sleep I was getting last night, I may as well be here doing something useful.”

He really hated when he started talking to himself. He entered his office and took a swallow from the can of coke he’d brought with him. The caffeine in the soft drink did a better job of waking him up than coffee.

He plopped the can down on his desk with more force than he’d intended, and Coke fizzed out of the opening and onto the stack of blue books that were awaiting correction. He growled again, found a tissue in his desk drawer, and blotted up the moisture. The balled up tissue was tossed into the waste basket, his chair was yanked out from his desk, and he dropped into it and picked up the first of the blue books, along with a red pen.

Call.

Oh, great. Now the phone was talking to him.

Purposely, he ignored it.

You know you want to.
The telephone, a nondescript beige that tried to blend into the wall, seemed to taunt him.

Yes, he did want to, but…

“Shoot.” He rose, crossed to the phone, and dialed from memory. “He probably won’t be there,” he muttered to himself. “I don’t know what I’m thinking. This is the stupidest thing I’ve ever…” Someone picked up the phone on the other end. “Jack? It’s…”

“Tom! Hey, how’s it hangin’, buddy?”

“Good, Jack.” Tom smiled into the telephone receiver, feeling his first pleasure in the day. Of course Jack recognized his voice. They’d been friends for a lot of years. “And you?”

“I’m okay.”

“And the kids?”

“They’re fine.”

“How’s the latest project? Your suppliers giving you any grief this time?”

A few years back the industry had been in a slump and things had been tight. Tom knew that one asshole of a contractor had skipped out on all his commitments; Jack had just barely made the payroll, but he was a good boss and most of his men had stuck by him until things began to look up again.

“The company is fine. Tom, why are you making small talk with me?”

He was, wasn’t he? “Uh… Listen, Jack. Would you have lunch with me?”

“Sure thing! Where and when?”

Tom was a little startled by his friend’s rapid acceptance of his invitation. There had been a time when the fact that Tom was gay and Jack wasn’t had interfered with their friendship, but that time was long past. Still…

“How about 12:45 at
Loueller’s
?”

“Sounds good to me. She has the best chicken fried steak in Savannah. And those key lime cookies…? Mmm mmm mmm!”

“You’re such a good ol’ boy, Jack, you know that?”

“Yeah. But I’m still your best bud, Tommy. Just don’t call me Luke Duke.” There was a smile in Jack’s voice, and Tom found himself returning the smile, even though Jack couldn’t see his expression. “Catch you later.”

Tom hung up, his smile fading. In spite of himself he found himself mulling over the question – the favor – he intended to ask Jack.

He glanced at his wrist watch and sighed. Three quarters of an hour until he’d have to set aside the tests he was grading and his students came trooping in, and another two hours and forty-five minutes until he met with his friend.

He went back to the stack of blue books.

Tom sat across from Jack in a back booth at
Loueller’s
, nursing his Coke. He was nervous; he’d been nervous since Jack had strolled into the diner and taken the seat opposite him.

Each time Jack had made sounds about getting back to his latest job, he would bring up some topic or other, no matter how lame, and keep him there talking.

Now the place was almost empty of the lunchtime crowd.

“Was something wrong with your lunch, sugah?” the waitress asked as she removed Tom’s almost untouched plate.

“No. It was fine. Guess my eyes were bigger than my stomach.” Tom offered a weak smile. He could feel his friend’s blue eyes studying him, and he reached for a paper napkin and began shredding it.

Jack finished his beer. “Tom, I really have to get back to work. The men are going to think I’m having a little afternoon delight.” There was a foam mustache over his upper lip, and he licked it off. Tom swallowed and looked away. “Tom?” Jack placed his hand on the back of Tom’s restless fingers. “What’s up, buddy?”

He’d hoped his friend wouldn’t have picked up on his tension, but he should have known better. Jack was one of the sharpest tools in the shed.

This is it
, he told himself,
now or never.
He was going to ask for something that could wreck a long-standing friendship. His palms were sweating, his heart was beating so hard he was afraid he was on the verge of a heart attack, and his mouth was so dry he could barely get the words out.

He drew in a breath, moistened his lips, and asked. The response wasn’t quite what he’d been expecting.

“You want me to
what
?”

But at least it wasn’t a punch in the mouth.

“Come on, Jack.” Tom tried to lighten the atmosphere. “I know you’ve got 20/20 hearing.” When it didn’t work, when Jack simply continued to look bowled over, Tom sighed. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“But… but, Tom, I’m straight.”

“You’re also my best friend, Jack.” The last thing he’d wanted to do, the one thing he’d always regarded with contempt when he’d heard of a gay man doing it, was to hit on a straight man. He scowled as he thought of the reactions of his so-called friends when he’d asked if they would help him out; they’d laughed, positive he’d been yanking their chains.

“Yeah, but… There have to be about a million guys who’d love to do you.” Jack wasn’t laughing. In fact, Tom wondered if his expression wasn’t kind of wistful.

“Maybe, but it would just be so they could brag they’d done the leather daddy. I’d never be able to trust them enough to give over control.” Tom was pleased to see that Jack took that as the compliment he’d meant it as. He was also pleased to see that Jack was starting to look intrigued by the proposition. “Look,” he pressed his point home, “it would just be the one time, I promise, and it would just be between us. You’ve been to my place plenty of times; no one will think anything of it.”

“So let me get this straight,” Jack smiled, and Tom was relieved. If  Jack was relaxed enough to joke about it, if the pun was intended, then even if he said ‘no,’ Tom knew their friendship would go on. “You want me to… to make love to you.”

That startled Tom. “Jack, you don’t need to pretty it up.” He’d told Jack what he wanted in blunt, Anglo-Saxon terms: Jack’s dick up his ass.

“Yeah, but y’know, Tom, I think I do.”

Tom shifted a bit to hide his unexpected reaction to his friend’s words. Leather daddies were tough guys who didn’t melt when someone actually appeared to care for their feelings. “And?”

“And I’m honored.”

“But will you do it?”

“Yeah, I will. I’ve… uh… I’d like to ask for something in return?”

“You’re doing me a real favor, Jack. You know I’ll do whatever you want.”

Jack’s smile was like a little boy’s. “I’ve heard you gay boys give the best head.”

“You want me to go down on you?”

“If… if it’s okay?” Jack’s hesitant expression made something in Tom’s chest twist. “Reba wouldn’t, and Julie always made such a big deal of it that I’d have to go out and buy her something special.”

Jack’s first wife was incidentally his first woman. A foot-washin’ Baptist, once she had his ring on her finger, she’d insisted their love-making be limited to missionary position-fumbles in the dark on Saturday night, if she was feeling charitable. It had all come spilling out when Tom had taken Jack to a bar to get drunk during the divorce proceedings, when Jack’s entire family had lined themselves up against their son.

As for Julie, Tom had known from the getgo that she was a gold-digger.

“Bitches.” Tom didn’t bother trying to conceal his disdain for the two women under his breath. “You’ve got it, buddy. I’ll give you a blow job that will blow your mind.” He waggled his eyebrows and grinned salaciously, and was gratified to see how happy the thought made his friend.

“There’s just one other thing, Tom.”

“Sure, Jack.”

“No kissing.”

“Whatever you say.” And he wasn’t disappointed, he told himself. He was getting what he wanted, and he had no intention of being greedy about it. “We won’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with, I promise.”

“Friday, then?”