Page 99 of Naughty Dreams
DJ resisted the urge to curl up tighter against Roy in the car. He was so tired, and all he'd done was visit Roy’s mom. Grief was worse than a marathon with no hydration.
He dozed until they reached Roy’s place, sitting up in time to note it was located in a tiny North Carolina river town, probably unknown to everyone except mapmakers and its residents. They passed over a bridge and then turned directly into the parking lot of a fifteen-unit condo community that was pushed up against the river.
He’d been wrong about the house. The unremarkable grey wooden siding was weathered by exposure to the salt water and coastal air. DJ liked it right away, maybe because Roy lived there and it had a Roy vibe. He’d pictured the suburban house because it would have been reassuringly structured, stable and safe, but oddly, so was this.
Roy took their bags out. Mike would head for a nearby hotel and retrieve them the day after tomorrow. DJ gave him cash to cover gas, his meals and ways to pass the time.
DJ noted the vehicle parked in the designated space for Roy’s unit. “I didn’t think it possible, but you just got even sexier to me. Who can resist a man who drives a soccer mom minivan?”
Roy bumped him with his bag, pushing him toward the steps to his front deck. “Hate to burst your orgasmic bubble, but it’s my neighbor’s. They have three teenagers, two of them driving. Each unit is allowed two vehicles. Since I’m gone so much, and my personal vehicles are in storage most of the time, I let them park one here. It’s a win-win.”
“What’s in storage?”
“A motorcycle and a Toyota Landcruiser.”
DJ imagined lots of black metal and chrome. Leather chaps, riding gloves. DJ on the back, sliding his hands over Roy’s hips, to his thighs, snugging up to the steel ass.
“Maybe you’ll take me for a ride sometime.”
“Well, in unapologetically sexist biker vernacular, it does have a pussy seat.”
DJ resisted the urge to punch him in the side, which he expected would have as much effect as a mosquito bite, and earn the same kind of dismissive swat.
It also made him think of Tal. Tal had loved his Harley.
Roy had a far end unit, so the deck went around the side of the house. Roy let DJ follow that path to the river view in back. The condos were literally on the river, the water lappingbeneath the decking. Each of the units had a boat dock. DJ noted a wooden owl decoy mounted on the railing of Roy’s. A dozen seagulls and cormorants perched around it or floated in nearby waters. “Your owl doesn’t deter them from shitting on your dock.”
“It’s not for them.”
“What kinds of birds is it supposed to keep away?”
“Penguins,” Roy said without blinking. When DJ scoffed, he lifted a shoulder. “Do you see any penguins?"
He guided DJ to the sliding glass door, deactivating the security with his phone before he pulled it open. When he gestured to DJ to precede him, it was the first time Roy had let him go through a door first. It told DJ how secure Roy’s home was.
He was safe here. Just as he’d felt when they pulled up.
At least externally. His internal terrain was littered with landmines, like what had happened at Gilda’s when he forgot his band members were no longer with him. But he’d take what he could get. Roy was giving him a lot of appealing distractions, including what DJ saw now.
The interior was different from the weathered and dated exterior. The modern renovated space was clean, spacious and comfortable. The living room had a sectional sofa and big screen TV. When Roy flipped a switch, a virtual fish tank appeared on it. Colorful tropical fish swam along peaceful currents of water.
Sort of the same theory as his nature webcam.
The kitchen was open to the living room, a six-seater dining room and office nook to the right. Beyond it was a hall DJ assumed led to bedrooms. There was a similar hall off to the left, behind the sectional sofa.
In the kitchen, magazine subscriptions were stacked on the island’s white marble countertop. “You don’t subscribe to online versions?” DJ asked.
“I do. But I like the print versions when I’m home.”
Another attractive visual, Roy sitting out on his deck, perusing a magazine, sipping his coffee. DJ made a show of looking around.
“So where’s the home dungeon?”
“Under the building, of course. Damn, I forgot I left a sub hanging in chains down there. I meant to have Elise check on him. Local town cop and a childhood friend,” he added.
“So she came pre-vetted.”
Roy nodded but dropped the teasing, his suddenly steady look holding a different provocation. He opened a kitchen drawer and DJ’s lower belly somersaulted as he withdrew police issue cuffs, letting them dangle from one finger. “I don’t need a dungeon. I keep things close to hand so I can play wherever and whenever I find myself in the mood.”
