Chapter Four #4
When Jeremy wakes up next, he’s disoriented.
It’s completely dark outside and the TV is playing a rerun of Forensic Files.
He rubs at his face as he searches for the remote to turn off the television, peace falling over the room.
Checking the time, it’s a little past midnight.
His call time is in six hours, really thinking about getting some solid rest as he sets his alarms.
Wanting to just fall back asleep, the urge to use the restroom overwhelms him.
Jeremy drags himself to the bathroom, flinching at the bright light, and properly gets ready for bed.
Scratching his head, he walks back into the main room with an emptied bladder and brushed teeth, going over to the sliding glass door to close it.
Hand on the handle, a particularly loud wave crashes down below and Jeremy has the impulse to peer out to the ocean one last time.
He steps out onto the balcony and to the rail, greeted by the black ocean bathed in moonlight.
A massive wave swells and the mysterious midnight surfer crests its peak, slicing down into the face of the wall of water.
The wave curls into a spiral, rushing toward the surfer.
Jeremy grabs the rail tightly as he watches the man try to outride the catastrophic tide.
The splashing mist of the tubed wave engulfs the surfer and Jeremy’s heart stops as he thinks the man just wiped out.
Then a big spray and the surfer bursts out of the tube at top speed, arms up in the air in triumph.
Relaxing, Jeremy smiles to himself and considers applauding the distant midnight surfer.
A beam of light from a flashlight illuminates the beach, sweeping the sands until the security guard finds a bag and pile of clothes.
Jeremy watches helplessly as the guard shouts out to the ocean, waving the high beam flashlight out at the waters.
He wants desperately to help the surfer who’s starting to swim to the shore.
Turning back to his room, Jeremy moves instinctually as he puts on his boots over his pajama bottoms and curses to himself as he grabs his key card.
Rushing down the stairwell and bursting through the back exit to the beach entrance, Jeremy hops the locked gate and lands on a sandy dune.
He hears two loud voices in the distance as he catches his breath, straightening up and walking steadily although his heart is racing.
The waves smash into the shore only a few hundred yards away, encouraging Jeremy’s confidence.
The security guard and surfer in a short sleeved wetsuit stand facing each other up ahead, growing clearer the closer Jeremy gets. He takes a steadying breath before raising his hand and calling out over the ocean wind, “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you!”
They both turn toward Jeremy who approaches the surfer, continuing with a hint of concern, “What’s going on?”
“Do you know this man, sir?” The hulking security guard asks him.
“Of course,” Jeremy says, stepping forward to stand beside the surfer, “This is my husband.”
“And are you a guest at the hotel?”
“Yes. Here’s my key card.”
The security guard takes a look at the card and Jeremy steals a glance at the surfer who is looking at him with a soft gaze.
Up close and at first glance the man is stunningly good looking.
A few inches taller than Jeremy, pitch black eyes, chin length wavy dark hair that’s dripping with salt water.
“I thought you said you weren’t staying at the hotel?” The security guard asks the surfer.
He hesitates, Jeremy jumping in, “Babe, why would you say that? Is it because of that fight we had?”
The surfer wrinkles his brow and shakes his head vehemently. The security guard looks between them and says, “Well, then you two won’t mind me escorting you to your room? Sir, we’ll have your surfboard checked. Right this way, please.”
Not expecting this, as soon as the security guard has his back turned, Jeremy looks over to the surfer who merely shrugs and picks up his bag from the sand before following the guard.
He, in fact, does walk them all the way back to Jeremy’s room on the seventh floor.
At the door, he says, “Please remind your husband that beach activities are restricted after eight PM. For his own safety.”
“Of course,” Jeremy smiles, closing the door, “Thank you.”
The security guard looks like he’s going to add another thing, but the door is shut.
Jeremy leans into the wood, wondering what the hell he just did.
Hoping that he hasn’t just let a serial killer into his room, Jeremy carefully walks into the main space.
The surfer is unzipping the top of his wetsuit, looking over to Jeremy as he walks in.
“So,” Jeremy bites his lip before continuing, “Sorry about that.”
“About?” The surfer speaks.
“This,” Jeremy gestures around them.
The surfer cracks a beautiful, toothy smile as he tells Jeremy, “I should be thanking you. Although, I have to warn you, I’m a lousy boyfriend. Don’t think I’d make a much better husband.”
Jeremy dares to chuckle, “Noted.”
The surfer extends his hand, introducing himself, “Merle.”
“Jeremy,” he shakes his hand.
“Say,” Merle points after they shake hands, “Do you ride horses by chance?”
Figuring Merle must have seen him riding through town with the other horse wranglers, he nods, “Yeah. I’m out here from Colorado working on this movie production.”
Merle nods.
Jeremy takes a deep breath before pressing on, “Well, I bet that security guard will be hanging out for a bit. You can take a shower or whatever, if you want, until it’s safe to escape.”
“Yeah, that sounds really nice actually,” Merle takes him up on his offer, passing Jeremy to get to the bathroom.
Right when the door closes, Jeremy spins around and pushes his hair back in disbelief.
This feels like some sort of fantasy world; a handsome surfer just so happens to end up stuck in Jeremy’s room with him at the height of his sexual frustration.
Glad he at least brushed his teeth, Jeremy wishes he could peek into the bathroom to double check his reflection.
Instead, he picks up his room a bit so it’s not a total mess and tries to fix his mess of hair on his phone’s frontal camera.
After, he considers smoking a cigarette to settle his nerves but doesn’t want to stink.
He sticks to gnawing on flavored toothpicks as he sits out on the balcony and taps his foot.
Merle comes outside, dry and clean in a fresh change of clothes he must’ve had in the backpack with him. He sits beside Jeremy and asks, “I know it’s nasty, but do you mind if I light a cigarette?”
“Oh, thank Christ,” Jeremy exhales, spitting out his toothpick and pulling out his pack of Marlboros. Merle laughs and gets his American Spirits. Patting down his pants, Jeremy realizes that he left his zippo at Clark’s penthouse. Turning to Merle, he asks, “Actually, do you have a light?”
“C’mere,” Merle grins, igniting the lighter and holding it out for Jeremy. He maintains strict eye contact as he leans forward into the flame and inhales. Merle bites his lip as Jeremy sits back, saying, “Y’know, that was some stunt you pulled back there.”
“You’re one to talk,” Jeremy replies, reaching behind them to close the screen door so the smoke doesn’t get into the room.
“How’d you know I needed saving?”
Jeremy chews on his cheek for a bit before answering, “Um, I was watching you.”
Merle chuckles nervously, “Uh…”
“From here, look, you can see the beach. My sleep schedule is all messed up from being on set so sometimes I come out here at night. Anyway, I watched you surf. You’re really good,” Jeremy explains as calmly as possible although he wouldn’t put it past the guy if Merle wanted to leave right that instant.
He shrugs, finishing with, “When I saw that security guard stopping you, it really got me going. I couldn’t just sit here and watch you get busted. ”
“So,” Merle exhales a billow of smoke, “‘Husband’ was your best bail out?”
“It worked. Sort of.”
Merle nods, lips puckered in thought. He glances up to Jeremy from under his dark lashes and it makes his heart thud, realizing now that this guy is totally his type.
Smirking as if he can read Jeremy’s mind, Merle openly flirts, “I think it only worked because it was so believable. We make a cute couple.”
Jeremy bites at the bait, “Aren’t you a terrible boyfriend? What makes you think I’d marry you?”
“Because I’m great in bed,” Merle leans his body toward Jeremy.
Heart undeniably skipping a beat, Jeremy holds his own and asks casually, “We really doing this?”
Merle shrugs, “You’re hot.”
“Yeah, you’re hot too,” Jeremy admits, sobering himself up by adding, “Hot and mysterious. I don’t know anything about you.”
“What do you want to know?”
Jeremy takes a sip of his cig to save face but his brain is going haywire; he can’t think of a single goddamn question despite the thousands that are so blatant. Instead, he just asks, “What are you?”
Merle raises a brow, understanding what’s being asked and replying, “A top. You?”
“Bottom.”
“Really?” Merle sits up straight.
Needing more than just a pretty face and some charm, Jeremy puts out his cigarette in a bottle he’d left out here and nods toward Merle, asking, “Can I see it?”
Merle looks out to the night, outside in the open like this yet completely alone, before putting the filter of his cig between his teeth and standing up.
He unties the drawstring of his wide leg lounge pants, lifting his shirt a bit to reveal his abdominal muscles and V-cut pelvis as he tugs down his pants.
His dick is actively growing, half hard and chubby already.
He’s heftily well endowed, making Jeremy’s mouth water.
“Thoughts?” Merle asks.