Hard Hats by Neil Plakcy

Author:Neil Plakcy
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cleis Press
Published: 2010-08-15T16:00:00+00:00

SOOTY

T. Hitman

The truck pulled up the last leg of the long, winding drive. It was big and white, masculine. A man’s sort of truck. The silhouette of a soot-blackened chimney sweep was tattooed across the driver’s side door. Tire treads chewed gravel, pine needles, and clumps of dirt on that final turn toward the house. Then the roar of its engine cut out; in the void, the ever-present sigh of the wind and the occasional croaking groan of an elder’s trunk in the nearby woods resumed.

The man behind the wheel was a shadow, like the chimney sweep logo on the truck. He wore a baseball cap, bill aimed forward. Sunglasses created twin ovals of liquid silver in the shadow of the cab. He scrambled for a clipboard on the passenger side seat. Then the door opened, dispelling most of my questions. He was a short man dressed in a white T-shirt with a logo identical to the one on the truck’s door, faded blue jeans, and soot-covered work boots. He closed the door. Temporary thunder shattered the calm. A man gets used to the quiet of remote places when he’s been part of the landscape long enough. I had. My heart pulsed as he stared at the lodge, unaware that he, too, was being studied.

Eyes peering through the part in the blueberry curtains, I sized him up. Yeah, short. Not more than five-five, five-six. But cute. Really, truly damn cute! Short dark hair in an athletic cut beneath his ball cap. A bit of scruff from not shaving that day. The last trace of a tan from all his trips up to people’s roofs. Little guy, with big muscles puffing on arms covered in patterns of dark hair. As he stretched and shifted the clipboard from one hand to the other, I caught a hint of dampness under an armpit. All the moisture drained from my mouth.

He approached the house. I straightened the curtains, hand-stenciled with a pattern of blueberries and leaves, and crossed to the door.

“Mister Ellis?” he said, a smile twisting his mouth. Flash of clean white teeth inside that playful smile.

“Mister Ellis is my dad. Call me Aaron.” I opened the door, extending a hand to bid him welcome. As soon as he was inside the sunporch stretching half the length of the lodge, he made a similar gesture. We shook hands. Nice to meet you. Welcome to the town of Lonesome Oaks, so remote it doesn’t appear on most maps. There was deceptive strength in that small, sexy hand. Electric pinpricks tingled up my arm and threatened to unleash a shiver down my spine.

“Wyatt,” he said, his voice one of those masculine, playful growls that a guy who loves other guys could easily get used to hearing on a regular basis.

First thought: how that voice must sound in the bedroom, when breaking commandments and grunting alternate takes on Heaven.

Suck my hairy fuckin’ cock! Yeah, like that. Now lick the sweat off my nuts! Can’t wait to bend you over.

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