Last week, in The Sheriff, we saw Dustin and Jordan's alone time interrupted by a couple of Jordan's friends. See how Dustin takes to this interruption in week's chapter. Don't forget to visit the other Briefers and see what they're up to. Their links follow my tale! Enjoy!
“C’mere, baby.” Jordan patted the seat beside him
invitingly. Dustin didn’t need to be told twice. He gave the lunkheads their
beers, set Jordan’s on the table next to him, then parked his ass on the
indicated spot.
A few moments passed without conversation as they all took appreciative drinks of the
cold beer.
“You know something,” Rusty said, breaking the silence. “I’m
thinking about getting another tattoo.”
That produced a snort from Lenny. “Where you gonna get it,
your dick?” he snarked.
Rusty slapped his knee, as though Lenny’d said something
hilarious. “That’s the last place I’d want a tattoo. Can you imagine how bad
that’s gotta hurt? No, I have room in other places. Just not sure what I want.”
“I think that’s just an excuse,” Jordan said. “It gives you
a reason to go to the tattoo parlor and flirt with that cute girl who works
there. What’s her name? Darla?”
Dustin was torn between laughing at Rusty’s blushing
discomfort and wondering how cute Jordan thought this girl was, and how he knew
her, since he didn’t have a single tattoo on him anywhere—Dustin should know,
he’d seen every square inch of Jordan’s body buck naked. No ink marred that
perfect skin, he was ready to swear to that.
“Hey, how’s your job going?” Rusty turned to Dustin, in an obvious
attempt to change the subject.
At least he had a job, Dustin thought. He wasn’t sure how
any of these three got their money, to be honest, not even Jordan. Why that
made him uncomfortable, he didn’t know. Maybe because sometimes he felt like
the odd man out, having to go to work? But that was stupid, to envy them
because they seemed to be unemployed.
“Going good,” he said tersely.
“It’s a real nice store,” Jordan offered. “Got some sweet
merchandise there.”
“Is that so?” This was Lenny. “You mean like high-price
computers and phones and stuff?”
Nothing you can afford,
Dustin thought, but he held his tongue. He didn’t want to antagonize Jordan,
not when things were going so well.
“So, what do you do?” Dustin threw the question toward Rusty
and Lenny. Either one or both, he didn’t really care. He was taken aback when Lenny giggled. Rusty
reached over and slapped his arm.
“Shut up, you. That’s a legit question.” He turned to Dustin
with a smirk. “I’m in sales,” he said. Which produced more stifled laughter
from Lenny, and another smack.
“Sales,” Jordan confirmed. “Mmhhmm.”
“What do you sell?” Dustin asked. “You mean like you work at
a store or something?”
“Somethin’.” Rusty’s reply was certainly vague enough.
Whatever it was, though, apparently Jordan knew all about it, or so it seemed.
“I freelance.”
“Yeah, something like that.” Rusty drained the rest of his
bottle of beer in one long drink, gave a loud and satisfying belch, before
setting the empty on the floor. “I acquire things and I sell them. No store.
Cuts down on costs.” He glanced at Jordan. “Hey, we’re still on for tonight,
right?”
Tonight? What was tonight, Dustin wondered.
“You know it,” Jordan said. He slid his arm around Dustin’s
shoulders. His fingers gently massaged Dustin’s shoulders. “Hey guys, why don’t you get yourselves one
for the road?”
As if that was a well-rehearsed cue, Rusty and Lenny rose.
Lenny started to protest that he still had some of his beer, but Rusty cut him
off.
“So what? Drink the other one when you’re done. Not rocket
science.”
At least they were going, but something was nagging at
Dustin. Something did not feel right to him. But before he could ask any
questions, Jordan had swooped down on him and crushed their mouths together
with breathtaking intensity. By the time Dustin was aware of his surroundings
again, the other two men were gone and he was following Jordan to the bedroom.
Dustin set his doubts aside and concentrated on enjoying Jordan and his fine
body.
to be continued
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