2 comments/ 6410 views/ 6 favorites Summer Rains Ch. 01 By: Transverse This story was published here previously, as some of you might remember. I've decided to finish it. Happy Holidays! -Transverse ***** Most people who come to Rockland don't stay long. The ground is red, and when the skies are blue, people don't mind it so much, and some even think it's beautiful. They take pictures with their thousand-dollar cameras and tell each other how much Rebecca back in Sioux Falls will love the contrast or how their great-grandfathers once fought battles in red-soiled places like Rockland, when the west was still old and half-Mexico. But when the summer rains come and the skies turn purple and the lightning starts fires where there's brush, they get quiet, and as soon as the storm has passed they pack their things and leave without a word. Once, I caught a man on his way out and asked him why he was leaving so soon. "It's...wrong," he said. He paid me for the gas. "Lovecraftian, almost." I had to look it up, and when I learned what it meant, I smiled. It's hard to find words to describe Rockland, and I suppose Lovecraftian is as good a word as any. I was born in Sedona, and didn't move here until I was an adult, and out of college. I majored in Advertising, because I had to major in something; my father wasn't a hard man, but he was firm about education. It even came in handy a few times; I admit I wouldn't have thought of putting ads on the sides of trains and trams in the city if I hadn't gone to school. I ended up with seven stations across the state, and I did enough business to be comfortable. I rarely visit the others now; the one in Rockland is by far my favorite. It's the last real station for almost eight hundred miles along this particular highway, and there's something important about it, even grand; sometimes I lean against one of the pumps and imagine that I'm standing on the edge of the world, looking out into the abyss where monsters dwell. Especially at night, when the light ends a few yards from the station. My imagination's always been fairly active, and it damn near exploded after learning about Lovecraft, I'll admit. The real story I'm here to tell you had nothing to do with monsters; there aren't any in Rockland, at least that I've seen. My story is about a man who came to town on horseback, of all things, during a storm. It was a whopper, too. The sky was bright purple, like the crayon, and there were several bolts of lightning visible at once. Smoke was rising from small bush fires miles away, and I could barely hear the television over the crack of the thunder. It wasn't raining, which just made the whole thing stranger. I could empathize with the tourists at times like that. He was wearing a t-shirt and jeans and boots, like everyone wears around here. The horse had no saddle, I saw as I looked out the window, but the rider looked steady, staying in place even though the horse trotted. I didn't expect him to stop at the station - what business had a mounted ranch hand at a gas station? - but he did, leaving the horse next to one of the pumps and strolling inside. He was attractive, I noticed; not in that conventional, television way, though. He was just under six feet, and his hair was blond and long. He had a plain but nice face, and his eyes were a nondescript brown. He was stocky, like a baseball player, and when he smiled I saw his perfect teeth. And he was dark, much darker than any blond man I had ever seen. I learned later that his mother was mestizo and his father was an actual American Indian. He laughed at me and my excitement at that, and I felt very only-white-guy-on-the-block. But when I first saw him I thought he was maybe Australian, or something exotic like that. "I heard you got those Naked Juices here," he said. "Yeah, I got 'em," I said. I turned around to the cold case behind me. "What flavor?" He shot a glance out the window. "Green Machine," he said. Naked Juice, like sushi, diet foods, and wheatgrass, is something of a contraband item around here; it's one hundred percent fresh fruit, healthy for you, it tastes great, and it's overpriced. It was exactly the kind of thing that trendy people in Los Angeles drank. Or worse, San Francisco. Both of which were in California. And there were few things people in Rockland had greater contempt for than California. Still, they came by day after day to get it, hoping nobody they knew would catch them at it. I was the only vendor of the stuff for three counties; I went through so much of it that I was on a first name basis with the distribution manager for the southwest. I set the bottle on the counter. "Six eighty-nine," I said. He handed me seven dollars. "Keep the change," he said, leaning against a chip rack. For your silence, my mind added. He took a swig and lifted and eyebrow. "What's so funny?" I waved it off, closing the drawer. "Nothing." I handed him his receipt. "Where you headed?" I looked out the window at his horse. It stood there, turning its head from side to side. "Rockland," he told me. "My car broke down out in Chatsworth, and I had no way to get back. My boss let me borrow this horse if I promised to bring him back by next week." He sighed. "I'm gonna have to rent a trailer, attach it to my truck." "Ranch hand?" "Vet." "Hmm." "Dad was too. I freelance now, but I've been out at Rickard's farm for a few weeks now. His dogs have an infection. It's a real mess." I made a face. "How you gonna get the other car back? Don't you need a second driver?" "Yeah," he said. "I'll get one of the day laborers at the hardware store to do it." It had been a while since I'd been laid, and he'd say yes if I asked, I could tell. "I could do it for you," I said. "You could ride the horse back out there, and I could drive my truck. I could tow your car back. Maybe even fix it; I know a few things." He looked at me, his tousled blonde hair sitting on his dark head. It was so exotic, and I was already imagining the contrast between his skin and the hair between his legs. A smile spread over his face. "Yeah," he said. "Less trouble this way, anyway. I'd be glad to have you." It was my turn to grin. "Tomorrow, then?" "Yeah, I'll be out there around twelve." He tossed the bottle into the trash and walked out. I watched him climb back onto his horse and turn him effortlessly, and he was so graceful and composed even without a saddle that my groin stirred again. A good rider, I thought. He turned out to be more than that, of course. Much more. ***** I lived in a very nice house, on five acres, with a view. Property isn't very expensive in Rockland; very few houses were sold anytime during the year, and the only people who moved here were people who had family here or were starting highly specific businesses, like mine. Most of the five thousand or so people in town were descended from the original thousand settlers. It was once a mining town, and when that dried up, it became a safe haven for pioneers from the east. The town founders were two men named Randall and Smith. Nobody knew if those were their first or last names. They were an odd pair, everyone agreed on that. Never married, no children, and lifelong business partners, it was said. It was also unclear why they had left the east in the first place; legend had it they were both firstborn sons of wealthy families, set to inherit much property, it would seem. At any rate, they had kept the place afloat after the smattering of silver dried up, and they were highly respected, despite being very strange. Perhaps that's why, even now, gay men are afforded a certain respect here, especially if they're business owners. It's an odd thing, like so many things about Rockland, especially when one considers how racially intolerant the place can be. But I digress. My house was seven bedrooms and five baths, with a pool and central air. I spared no expense on the construction of the place; summers in Arizona are serious business, and I didn't want to end up wetting my face and sitting in front of table fans the way I had when I was a kid in Sedona. The view was amazing, and I sat in front of my picture window every day when I got home from work and gazed at the stars until I fell asleep. ***** The morning I was set to meet the Vet on Horseback, I sat on my counter and drank a cup of coffee, trying to imagine him spread naked on my sofa, his light hair so stark a contrast to his dark skin. I'd never known I had a thing for that look until I saw him that day, but boy, I needed him bad. There had been so many others before him - mostly closet cases that came up from Phoenix to be free for a while - but they'd all left so soon after I'd met them, like everyone else who visited Rockland. Sometimes I thought about moving away, I was so lonely, but I had roots here, and I didn't want to give them up if I could help it. And the Vet lived in Rockland. We could be together, if only for a little while. That was something, I told myself. It could be enough, if it had to be. I putted around until nine, then left to go open the store. I passed the mayor on my way down the hill; he waved at me, and I gave him a two-fingered salute. I made it to the bottom and turned onto the highway, the air above the blacktop already shimmering in the heat. The red dirt reflected the sun hard, and I slipped on a pair of sunglasses I kept on the dash. A woman was waiting outside the door when I pulled into the station. She was a redhead and was carrying a redheaded baby and sweating. I apologized to her and opened the door, disarming the security system and flipping on the lights. "Just twenty on number four," she said. She switched the baby to the other hip and reached into her back pocket for the money. I put it in the register. "Stay out of the heat, now," I told her. I smiled at the kid. "You, too." "Thanks." The door chimed as she walked out. Not ten minutes after she left, the Vet showed up, parking his horse in the shade beside the air pumps. He walked in, big circles of sweat under his arms, and wiped his forehead, lifting his eyebrows at me. "You're here," I said. I pulled a Naked Juice out of the cooler behind me and tossed it to him. "On the house." He grinned. "Thanks." "Thought you were gonna meet me out at Rickard's place? It's kind of hot to be riding around." "Didn't want you to get lost. I know you can't leave the store until noon; I just didn't want to ride all the way out here from town in the heat of the day. I'll wait." His gaze was fixed on mine, and he took another swig of the juice, licking his lips when he was done. I broke the moment first, turning my back to him again. "You want a chair?" "If it's not too much trouble." I walked around the counter with a folding chair and handed it to him. He set it in a blank space beside the chip rack, facing me. "So," he said. He folded his arms on the counter and rested his chin on his wrists. His head was at just about the level of my hips. I'm sure this wasn't lost on him. "How'd you end up here?" I told him my story. He nodded and grunted in all the right places, but I could tell he wasn't really listening. His eyes moved over my body too many times during the conversation. But I didn't mind. I liked it. It was nice to be openly admired like that; I was tired of the furtive glances of the men from Phoenix. "And how did you end up here? You didn't grow up in Rockland, did you?" "Chatsworth," he told me. "My mom was a rancher's daughter, and my dad lived on the reservation." He paused, and his eyes took on a faraway look, the way mine probably did when I looked out into the night. I felt an odd sense of kinship with him then, like he could understand things about me that most people couldn't. "I only met him a few times," he said. "He was a vet, like I told you. He worked in Chatsworth every now and again, and he would come see me when he did. He was already married to someone else, you see." "Mmm," I said. His mother had worked as a paralegal, he told me, the only one in Chatsworth. She made good money, being a scarce resource and all, and he'd never gone without, he said. The look on his face said otherwise. He may not have wanted for many material things, but a father's absence does things to a boy, and it's never really okay, not even after you're grown. "I never knew my father either," I told him. He looked confused. "Oh, he lived with us," I said. "For my whole life. Still married to my mother and everything. But he was a very private man, and I can't even say that I know for sure who he is. He always held most of himself away from us, even my mother." Our eyes met again, and it was a bit frightening how easy our connection was, how deep. "We barely speak," I said. "I don't think I've ever seen him smile. Not really, you know what I mean?" "No." His lips were bowed and his eyes stayed locked on mine. "But I can imagine. If I try." I wish I could tell you that I kissed him right then, that we locked the doors and made passionate love on the floor, but none of that happened. We just held our places, gazing at each other and containing ourselves. Noon arrived before I was ready, and we headed out to the lot, side by side. I was itching to take his hand, and I know he wanted to hold mine too, but you know you never do the sensible thing at times like that. "You gonna be okay on horseback?" It was high noon, and the intense heat was dry and direct, even in the shade. "It's only two miles," he said. He didn't look pleased about riding, though. "I'll make it." He set off before me, his thick thighs gripping the sides of the horse as it trotted reluctantly out of the shade and onto the dirt beside the road. I felt a bit guilty about driving in my air conditioned car, but it had to be done. If anything happened, I could always go back and get him. I got to old Rickard's place in five minutes. He wasn't surprised to see me; the Vet had called ahead and told him I'd be coming with him. He showed up ten minutes later, all sweat and haggard breaths. Rickard laughed at him, leading the horse into the stable. The Vet dunked his head into a bucket of water beside the barn entrance, then shook his head like a dog. Some of the water splashed on me, and he was beaming at me and looking me over again. "Car's around the side," Rickard called, walking out of the barn. He pointed. "Should be room for the truck. Mind the fences, though." "Thanks, Rick," the Vet said. "Make sure the dogs get their meds, okay? They have to take all of them, or else they don't work and I'll have to give them more." "I've been doing this a long time. I know how to give my collies some damn pills." He smiled good-naturedly. "You coming back to check on 'em?" "In ten days." He crossed his arms. "There shouldn't be any more pills left, Rickard." "Don't let the door hit you where the good lord split you." He disappeared into the barn. The Vet sauntered over to me and slid his arms around my waist and pinched my ass. I shoved him away, gesturing at the barn door. "Aww," he said. "Have a little fun." I looked at him coldly, and he laughed. "Come on," he said. "Let's hitch up my car." The ride back was silent at first. Then he slid his hand over my thigh and I jumped, and the car swerved a bit. "Watch it!" He laughed long and loud, and it made me hard, even though I was trying to be mad at him. "You're a hell of a tightwad, you know that?" "Not in the car." "Where then?" He leaned close to me, until I could feel the hairs on his lip dust my ear. "Where do you want me?" He took the lobe into his mouth, then bit it. I swatted at him with my hand, catching him on the nose. "Cut it out." I tried to sound serious, and it worked, because the smile slid form his face and he backed away. "I'm sorry," he said. "It just...it's been a while, you know?" "Mpfh." I kept my face plain, but inside I was grinning a sly grin. I love to play with my food, and I loved it back then, too. When we got to the station I backed his car into the garage behind the store. "I'll look it over tomorrow," I said. "It's probably nothing serious; if it is, I'll call you and we can take it somewhere else." I got out and unhooked the small compact. He stayed in the cab, still thinking I was mad at him. I know it was mean, but I just couldn't resist teasing him that way. I closed the garage, climbing back into the cab. I looked over at him with mock disdain. "I suppose we can go to my place." I sighed. He perked up. "Yeah," he said. "No more of that foolishness, though. I hate that shit." He nodded fast, rotating his hips in his seat. He smiled tentatively at me, like he was worried that smiling to hard would piss me off and we wouldn't fuck. He was as horny as I was, I could feel it radiating from him in waves, and his nervousness just made me want him more. I tried to decide which bedroom to fuck him in as I drove to my house. I parked in the drive, not bothering to go into the garage. "Let's go," I said. "I don't have all day." He hopped out and trotted around to my side of the car. He moved a lot like a horse, I noted, and he was skittish like one, too. He practically paced in front of me, rubbing the back of his neck and biting his lip like he was on trial. I turned him around and herded him into the house by the shoulders. I didn't lock my doors, so we went straight inside. He stopped in the entry way, scanning the large, open space. "Wow," he said. "Yep." I kissed the back of his neck and pulled him against me, my hands sliding down and cupping his cock through his jeans. His pits were still wet and the smell of his sweat wafted up at me, revving me up even more. I pressed my cock against his ass and he leaned into it, moaning. "It's been so long," he said. "So long." I slipped a hand under his shirt and tickled his chest and pinched a nipple. He bucked against me, turning his head to give me better access to his neck. I took the hint, kissing and suckling. He moaned louder, breathing hard. "It has been a long time," I whispered in his ear. He pressed harder against my hips in response. "You'd think you'd never been fucked in your life." He groaned again and turned to face me, forcing his lips against mine. He was shorter than me, but strong; he shoved me backward until I was against the wall, shoving his hand into my pants and taking hold of my cock. I gasped, pleasantly surprised at his boldness. He was going to be fun to take down, I could tell. I broke our kiss, grinning down at him. "Let's go somewhere with more...bedding." He smiled at me, bright, like he had in the store that morning. I took his hand and led him to one of the downstairs guest rooms. We wouldn't have been able to wait until we reached my bedroom on the top floor. I shoved him backward, roughly, until his calved hit the foot of the bed and he fell onto it. Before he could get his bearings I was on him, pushing his legs apart and unzipping him. He was breathing very fast. "Pants...pants..." I pulled his legs straight again and tugged them off along with his underwear. He blinked, shocked at how fast I had done it. "I'm a professional," I told him. I pried his legs apart again and he moaned before I even touched him. I dropped to my knees and started in on his ass, my tongue dancing and prying and teasing. He screamed and almost choked me with his thighs, but I held them apart and kept licking him until I saw his balls contract a few times. "Not yet," I said. I stood and reached into my back pocket for the condom I kept there. I had it on in a flash, and I was pushing at his entrance as his ass hung off the edge of the bed.