Towels Hit the Floor
TOWELS HIT THE FLOOR
“It’s an adventure,” I mumbled.
I turned off the shower, using my hands to squeegee the excess water from the trail of hair along my chest and belly. As soon as the heat dissipated, the chill returned. Grabbing a towel, I stepped out of the shower. I was still amazed that in a rustic farmhouse, this bathroom could be out of a modern design magazine. Slate tiles? Floating sink? It belonged in an upscale hotel in Manhattan, not in a house with dozens of porcelain owls.
I wrapped the towel around my waist and wiped the fog from the mirror. Poking at my stomach, I imagined how many crunches it’d take before my abs returned. The role demanded a dad bod, and that’s what they got. It had taken some getting used to, but I enjoyed not having to watch what I eat. As long as Rose kept cooking bacon, the extra pounds weren’t going anywhere.
I grabbed my ditty bag and pulled out my beard oil. Playing the legendary Valiant meant looking the role all the time, clean-shaven, with an emphasis on hitting the gym five days a week. Now, I was having fun sporting a short beard and eating whatever I wanted. I’d have to go into town eventually and see if I could find some flannel. Maybe Edward had wood that needed chopping, and I could transform into a rugged outdoorsman.
“Tessa, you’d hate every minute.”
Vanilla and a hint of black pepper. If nothing else, I smelled better than I had in a decade. As I stared in the mirror, I flexed, showing off the muscle hiding beneath the layer of soft padding. I couldn’t help but smile. “I’d do me. I've done worse.”
Walking into the bedroom, I slid the closet door open. I hadn’t brought much with me. I figured I’d spend a few days exploring Firefly and pick up the necessities. It’d force me to get out of the house and stop moping. Jeans? That seemed local. Why did I bring a dress shirt? Green t-shirt? That’d have to do for today. At least I remembered to bring sneakers.
“Ahem.”
I jumped, my heart forcing its way into my throat. I spun around as my brain debated if this was fight or flight. My heart thumped in my chest, and I could feel the adrenaline flooding my muscles. It wasn’t a black bear, but the stranger leaning against the doorframe could certainly be described as a bear. The golden beard reached his chest, and hair fell just below his ears. I should say something. Speak. Words escaped me.
“I’m so sorry,” he said, holding up his hands to his eyes. “I thought you went to the farmers’ market with Rose. Bobby… I’m Bobby, Rose’s handyman.”
He let out a slight cough as he peeped through his fingers. I was about to ask what was going on when he pointed. With a quick glance down, I spotted the white terrycloth lying on the floor. There was no way to hide the embarrassment as my cheeks turned hot.
“Oh, my God.”
I rushed to pick up the towel, holding it in front of my package. He chuckled as the heat rushed to my face. I avoided eye contact, staring at his dark tan boots. I left New York to avoid scandals, and here I was, showing off my goods to Rose’s handyman.
“After Ed’s knee replacement, she forbade him from doing housework. I come in a few times a month to help with the chores. I hear the toilet won’t stop running.”
Bobby walked in as if there wasn’t a naked man clinging desperately to his modesty. He held out a hand. Was this normal? Had I fallen into a porn? Would horrible techno music play on the clock radio?
“From the eyeful I got, you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. Wave it around with pride.” If he ended the statement there, I’d assume he tried turning an awkward situation into a laughable event. I recognized when eyes were casually observing and when they were studying. When Bobby shot me a wink, we left friendly and moved into flirtatious.
I held the towel in place while I shook his hand. The calluses suggested he had been working with his hands for years. He was already looking at the bathroom door, but I swore his hand lingered. Jason warned me people in Firefly were unusually familiar, and at best, personal boundaries were ignored suggestions. Would this become one of those funny stories I shared at cocktail parties, or…
Before I could say anything, Bobby let go and walked into the bathroom. Oh, okay, it was all in my head. However, the idea had been planted, and I couldn’t help but stare at his ass. Damn, overalls. Why couldn’t he be wearing gray sweatpants? Or a jockstrap. That’s usually what the handyman wore in porn.
I heard him remove the cover from the toilet. A sane man would put on some underwear. The way he rolled with the situation raised my curiosity, among other things. Could I be lucky enough to have a beautiful mountain man coming onto me? I assumed, in a small town, that Jason and Simon would be the only gay men. Maybe Firefly had more surprises than I anticipated?
Yes, I let my little man do the thinking.
“It wasn’t running too bad,” I said. I wrapped the towel around my waist and walked to the bathroom. Leaning against the door, I watched as Bobby reached into the back. He reached back and pulled a screwdriver from his belt and poked at something. A second later, the sound of running water vanished.
“I like when it’s an easy fix.” He slid the screwdriver into its holster and replaced the lid. “Mind if I use your sink?” He held up his hands. Bobby might look like a mountain man, but he had manners.
“It’s the least I can do after flashing my junk.”
Scrubbing his hands, I caught his eyes, glancing at the towel. What were the chances the handyman had a thing for men? He could be a straight man sizing up the competition. If he wanted to wrestle for dominance, I wouldn’t argue. The more I thought about it, the more the tent poking in front grew.
He turned off the sink, patting his hands dry on a hanging towel. “Sorry again for barging in. Rose would withhold pie if I didn’t take care of her guest.”
I recognized the innuendo. Being in front of cameras for the last decade, I didn’t have the luxury of privacy. Growing up gay, I learned the code. It started with the pronoun game, never revealing the gender of our dates. As I got older, I learned to read between the lines.
“I’ll make sure she knows you took great care of me.”
The trap had been laid, and the ball was in his court. I wouldn’t jump a straight man, not unless he made the first move. Last thing I needed was the town gossiping about how I hit on anybody with a beard. I opened the door. I smirked, curious what he would?—
Bobby moved until his overalls brushed against my chest hair. While he bit his lower lip, I inhaled his smell of sawdust and earth. He placed a hand on my chest, his fingers sweeping through my chest hair. Next thing I knew, his hand was on my neck, and his lips pressed against mine.
The handyman leaned against my body as my arms wrapped around his waist. Where I expected his kissing to be as coarse as his hands, he proved himself gentle. When his lips parted, his tongue flicked against mine. As he pressed me against the doorframe, my towel fell to the floor.
He pulled away, hand still holding my neck. “Want me to get that for you?”
“I think we’re past modesty.”
We were at a crossroads. I could make out with the handyman and use it as material for masturbating later, or I could?—
Bobby reached for the buckle on his overalls. “I guess it’s only fair.”
Cue the porn music. I reached for the other buckle, unfastening it so the bib fell between us. It caught on his work belt. I slid my hands under his shirt and lifted it a few inches, watching for his reaction. When he lifted his arms in the air, I pulled it over his head. Bobby had almost as much hair on his chest as he did his head, and I couldn’t wait to run my hands through it.
I slipped from the doorway, finger hooking in his belt. Everything about this screamed crazy. Over the years, I had my fair share of hookups. It usually happened after a few beers, triggered by a lingering touch or wayward glances. This didn't feel like two men on the prowl, looking to get their rocks off. Our chance encounter could have gone either way, but we both spotted the opportunity. Innocent fun. As I turned around and sat on the bed, any idea of this being a mistake vanished.
“You sure?”
Bobby didn’t answer as he reached under his bib and unfastened his tool belt. His overalls fell, and to my surprise, my mountain man preferred fresh air and free balling. I ran my hands along his waist, rounding the curve of his belly and following the path of golden hair to his chest.
“Wow.” I gawked at his package. If Bobby turned out to be a grower, I was about to have more than a handful. The longer I stared, the more it thickened until it jumped. “Now I have penis envy.”
“Good thing I’ll let you play with it.” When naked, Bobby had a bit of a cocky streak. Gentleman in the streets and a Dom in the sheets. I didn’t mind that paring. I cupped his balls, impressed with how low they hung. Soon as I lifted them, his cock stiffened.
“How long do we have?” The last thing I needed was for Rose to discover the handyman’s real talents. I hope she wasn’t paying him by the hour ‘cause I could spend some quality getting creative with this beefy man.
“It’s not a very big market.”
Drats. It just meant we had to make the most of our time. “I can make that work.”
Before he could respond, I swallowed the head of his cock. It was equal parts length and girth. He tasted like he smelled, a blend of earth and vanilla. There were cocks that filled a mouth, and then there were those that filled a mouth. Bobby was definitely the latter. As he leaned forward, working more in, I doubted I’d get to the base at this angle. He held the back of my head, giving encouragement to try.
“Fuck,” he gasped. With his pants around his ankles, he shuffled forward. My face pressed against his fuzzy belly, and I never wanted to move. I gripped his ass, pulling him closer until his hips bucked. He started a slow retreat before sliding in until my face pressed against his stomach.
He held my head in place while he fucked my mouth. I reached between my legs, giving my cock a tug. The rugged man in front of me was hot enough. His boots brushing against my feet made it nuclear. The impromptu liaison with a local pressed every button. If we had time, I’d love to see where else his cock fit.
I pulled off his cock, wrapping my fingers around the shaft. Try as I might, there was a gap thanks to the girth. Okay, that was hot, too. I wanted to feel that shoved inside of me. Rose and Edward would need to have gone to the market in New Hampshire before I could take this monster.
I continued stroking my cock when he took a step back. “Don’t come,” he said. It felt somewhere between a command and a request. He gave his cock a few jerks, and I thought we’d finish with some mutual masturbating.
Bobby got to his knees. Any thought he might be a straight man exploring a fantasy went out the window. He kissed with an eagerness that made me want him even more. I hadn’t had a man feverishly kiss like that since under the bleachers in high school.
It ended when he put a hand on my chest and pushed me onto my back on the bed. Before I could lift my head, he pushed my cock against my belly and kissed along my thighs to my testicles. Like his hands, his tongue felt coarse as he dragged it back and forth. The tip traced a line along the underside of my cock until he reached the head. Bobby wasted no time diving down until I hit the bend of his throat.
“Holy shit,” I gasped. Yup, this wasn’t his first blowjob. He sped up and down, circling his fingers to add pressure. I leaned my head back and enjoyed the sensation. Every few strokes, he’d reach the base, burying his face in my grain. I let out a low growl. He’d pull off, gasping for air just long enough to return to my cock.
It had been years since somebody made me come like this, but Bobby had a gift and got me close. I envied men who came from a blow job. With his vigor, he wanted me to come, and I had a good idea where he wanted it.
“If I had time…” He must have read my mind.
“Next time,” I mumbled.
I reached down, jerking my cock while his lips hovered near the head. We didn’t have time to see if he could bring me to a climax. He watched as I stroked, his tongue darting out, lapping at the tip. I picked up the pace, hoping we reached the end before we heard stirring in the kitchen.
“I’m close.” His lips parted.
I sped up, our eyes locking. As the electricity shot through my body, my hips bucked. I didn’t need to announce the orgasm. Bobby dove on my cock, swallowing each pulse. His eyes remained fixed, watching as my face contorted with pleasure. The gasps were silent, not wanting to announce to the entire town I had been serviced by the local handyman.
The orgasm hadn’t subsided when he stood, a line of precum ready to drip from the tip of his cock. I wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to return the favor. Pushing off the bed, I got to my knees and guiding his cock into my mouth.
“I’m close,” he warned.
It didn’t deter me. I held his thighs, bobbing up and down on his cock. Each time I swallowed, the hair on his belly brushed my forehead before I pulled back. Bobby held the sides of my head and rocked his hips back and forth. His pace quickened as the growl started in the back of his throat. His legs tensed and shook, a precursor to?—
“Fuck,” he whispered. His cock thickened, and I tasted the salt on the back of my tongue. As his grip loosened, I started a slow up-and-down motion, milking him. He shuddered, and I considered it a job well done. I could keep nursing on that?—
“We’re home,” came Rose’s voice.
Bobby’s cock fell out of my mouth as he shuffled his way to his shirt. I stifled a laugh at the speed he shimmied across the room with his overalls around his ankles. Pulling it over his head, he quickly pulled up his overalls. I didn’t mind the view of him bent over. I figured our tryst had ended, and we’d go back to casual strangers. He finished snapping his clothes into place. When he went for his tool belt, he shot me a quick grin.
“Thanks,” he said. He gave me a kiss that held as much urgency as the first.
He put on his tool belt and headed out of the room.
“Good news, Rose. I took care of everything that needed taking care of.”
I stifled a laugh. Yes. Yes, he did.
Now I needed to get dressed before Rose popped in offering… what exactly did they have at the market? Potatoes and lobster? In Firefly, I wouldn’t be surprised.
The temperature had dropped with the sun.
Rose had cooked pork chops while she explained how the pigs at the Johnson family farm were far more delicious than those at the Stephen’s farm. I couldn't argue—it was the best home-cooked meal I had in years. Somewhere in the conversation, I learned how Cecilia Johnson married Johnny Stevens, putting the kibosh on a generation-old rivalry. Thanksgiving remained tense.
I dropped to my knees, lighting a match and shielding it from the breeze. On my third attempt, I got the flame under the log before it blew out. Grrr. I had brought out a glass and my favorite bourbon, hoping for a night staring into the flame. I’d have to settle for the bedroom and putting a fireplace on my tablet.
All day, I walked the property, from the fallen stone wall to the wooden fence meant to keep deer at bay. The isolation felt… unsettling. In New York, I couldn’t sit in my apartment without hearing the neighbors or the door buzzer ringing. The city always encroached. Here, I lived inside my head and got reacquainted with myself. While unnerving, it brought a sense of liberation. Tomorrow, I’d expand my horizons and venture into town.
Another match, another failure.
“There’s a trick to it.”
Edward had snuck up on me, wearing a dark blue bathrobe and holding a steaming coffee mug. The fire pit and Adirondack chairs were a football field away from the house. Beyond the barn, we stood where the field reached its peak and dipped into a valley. As the sun vanished, the darkness rushed in, ready to consume the town.
“I’m anything but an outdoorsman.”
Edward laughed, a hearty sound, as he reached into his robe pocket. He produced a canister of lighter fluid and gave it a shake. “An outdoorsman knows when to cheat.”
“Lesson learned.”
He damn near emptied it on the logs. When I handed him the matchbox, he gave it an expert flick and dropped it onto the logs. In a blaze, the kindling ignited, and we had a fire. As if it were programmed into our DNA, we stood in silence, admiring our handiwork.
“I’ll leave you be,” he said.
“You’re more than welcome to join me. That’s if you don’t mind drinking bourbon neat?” I gestured to the bottle sitting on the arm of the chair.
“A younger version of me would drink you under the table.” His words held a sense of nostalgia as he drifted between the now and then. Did the thought of whiskey remind him of drinks with Rose during their courtship? “See that mountain off in the distance?”
The sun had all but vanished, and I squinted, not sure if what I saw was a mountain. “I think so.”
“Mt. Katahdin. She's a beauty but quite the beast. In my younger years, I used to hike to the peak.” I had a feeling Edward had a tale he wanted to share. “There are trails just past the field that will take you there.” His voice held a sadness, as if strolling down memory lane came with achy joints. “Ever hear of trail magic?”
I wouldn't be shocked to discover they were part of a nudist cult that served cupcakes after worshipping the moon. I shook my head. “Can’t say I have.”
“The Appalachian Trail’s a rough hike. Things go wrong. Sleeping bags get damaged and boots destroyed. I’ve been chased by moose more times than I can count. Just when you’re ready to throw in the towel, you find trail magic.” He rested a hand on my shoulder. Perhaps I needed more time in the wilderness to understand what he meant.
“What is it?”
“As Mother Nature tries her darnedest to beat you down, you find a pack of crackers dangling from a low-hanging branch. Socks. Dry, warm wool socks with no holes. You reach your shelter for the night to find another hiker cooking a can of Spaghetti-Os, and they offer a can. Trail magic is when kindness provides fuel for the soul.”
“I see.” In the city, we avoided eye contact for fear of confrontation. Here, some invisible strand brought out people’s humanity. I didn’t know why, but the idea of paying it forward made me smile.
“We find trail magic when we need it most.” His fingers tightened on my shoulder before he gave it a light pat. “Keep your eyes open, son.”
I listened as Edward’s steps vanished into the grass, leaving the hush of rustling leaves. Did he know the reason I came to Firefly? Had I kept to myself as Rose insisted on another helping of mashed potatoes? I’m sure if they stopped by the grocery store, they’d have seen my photo plastered on the front page of a tabloid.
Settling into the chair, I poured myself three fingers of bourbon and raised the glass. Right now, I could use a bit of magic from the universe. Perhaps it'd do my career some good. “To trail magic.” Notes of pine and leather hit my tongue before leaving a fruity aftertaste. I swirled the liquid, staring through the glass to the fire beyond. The bottom of my feet warmed by the fire, the heat creeping up my legs as I thought about Edward’s words.
At first, I focused on work and how trail magic could turn around my situation. Then I thought about this morning and the towel slipping from around my waist. I could blame it on gravity, or perhaps the universe gave me what I needed most. Who was I to say no when it provided a sexy bear willing to get naked? Work became a fleeting memory as I imagined the intensity of Bobby’s green eyes.
“My eyes are open,” I whispered, the warmth of the fire washing over my legs. The words were swallowed by the darkness and drowned out by the crackle of the fire.