Candy From Strangers: A Gay Erotic Thriller

Candy From Strangers: A Gay Erotic Thriller

by

Joey Jameson

SMASHWORDS EDITION

***

PUBLISHED BY:

Chances Press, LLC on Smashwords

ISBN: 978-0-9882302-3-1

Copyright © 2012 by Joey Jameson

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

Publication of the photograph of any person in this publication is not to be construed as any indication of the sexual orientation of such person. Cover photo courtesy of iStockPhoto.

Smashwords Edition License Notes

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Prologue

This is one of those moments. You know the ones, that moment where you find yourself floating above your body staring down at yourself…thinking that there’s no way this could possibly be happening. There’s no way I could have allowed my life to take such a turn… There’s no way I could have fucked up so badly… This has got to be a dream…But no matter how many times I shake my head and grit my teeth, I don’t wake up from this apparent nightmare… The sound of muffled voices outside the padlocked door brings me back to where I am, and I shudder and peer around the small white room.

I look down at the blood underneath my finger nails, and I begin to shake all over. My eyes sting and the throbbing in my head is so loud I can’t focus on anything else. I put my hand up to my forehead instinctually, and then retract it to inspect the dried blood that’s caked itself to my head. All of a sudden a face flashes in my mind, almost like a jolt of electricity shooting through my brain; him…The one with the face of an angel…This is all because of him. I shake my head again trying to force the image of his face away, but it’s as if he’s standing right in front of me, taunting me with his gaze, his eyes burning a hole right through my skull.

A moan bubbles up from deep in my belly, but fizzles out before it reaches my mouth. I drop my head into my shackled hands and feel the familiar sting of tears from behind my eyes.

How did I get here? How did this happen to me?

Before I know it my thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a key cutting its way through the lock. The padlock is pulled back and the heavy door scrapes open. A man wearing a white coat and holding a clipboard walks in trepidatiously, accompanied by two other men. My breath hitches in my throat as the men walk slowly towards me, regarding me carefully as if they expect me to pounce on them like a hungry tiger. As they approach they begin to blur and fade around the edges. In their place, appears him again…his dark hair just as perfect as the day I met him. His eyes the same shade of green, welcoming and kind, yet mysterious. He holds out his hand and whispers something I can’t understand. The last thing I feel is an odd sense of comfort as everything goes black and I feel my body relax… But not before a puff of air from deep inside my lungs escapes from between my cracked lips, taking the shape of a word I hoped never to have to utter again…

Darien…

Chapter One

It was one of those rare blisteringly hot English summer days; you know the ones where people call in sick to take advantage, because they don’t know when the next one will be. I remember the streets were littered with people; some walking their dogs, others with push chairs and cold drinks. It was abnormally loud in our little surburban neighbourhood, almost as if there was an unannounced street party happening where everybody was invited. Everyone seemed preoccupied with their little diversions. Maybe that’s why no one else seemed to notice him moving in.

I was sitting in my front garden, sprawled out on my deck chair, trying to endlessly top up my fading summer’s tan. Even with my iPod plugged into my ears, I could still hear the hum of the moving truck pull up across the street. I remember thinking how odd a day it was for someone to move. Who moves in the dead of summer? I always used to pity construction workers and movers in the summertime; slaving away in the hot sun with nowhere to escape when it got unbearable. I always want to bring them something to quench their thirst…but really I just wanted to get a better look at their topless chests! There was something about construction men, almost as if there was a prerequisite to be hot before you got the job. When the sun came out, the shirts came off. In my day many an hour I’d spent admiring the way the sweat used to bead on their sunkissed bodies. Glistening and shimmering over their perfectly tanned pecs like baby oil. When they caught sight of someone watching, I’m sure they’d run their hands over their nipples, just to show off. Not that anyone would complain. Ahh, thank God for topless summer workers!

I was surprised when the moving van pulled up and only one person got out.

They must have finally sold the old Richard Residence.

Trying not to seem like a creep I shifted myself into a half-sitting position to get a better look at my new neighbour. And it was then that I actually felt time stand still…

My mouth gaped open as I reached to take off my shades for a closer inspection. The man I saw before me, was simply, and irrepressibly, beautiful. Even from across the street I could see he had a thick mane of shaggy dark hair that tickled just below his chin. His dark tanned skin glistened in the August sun and appeared almost olive in colour. He wore a white ribbed vest that showcased his perfectly toned arms, and as he slipped out of the van and went around to the back my eyes trailed down to admire his perfectly shaped ass that filled out his surf shorts.

I readjusted myself in my sun lounger, and in doing so accidentally tipped over the G&T that sat next to me.

Shit! I mumbled as I struggled to tip my glass back up before losing half of it in my lap. Not being as discreet as I would have hoped, my Adonis of a new neighbour must have overheard my clumsiness for his surveying eyes fell upon me. As they locked suddenly with my own, I could feel my cheeks begin to redden, as a slow cheeky grin crept upon his face, lighting it up all the way to his brow.

I could feel my mouth drop open further when his face suddenly appeared even more gorgeous with a smile draped across it. All I could fathom at this point was what a complete and utter twat I must have looked with my fucking drink spilled all over me and my mouth hanging open like a mental patient. But as he continued to smile at me, I couldn’t move a muscle. His gaze was almost hypnotic, as if the sun reflecting off his pearly white teeth had a sort of paralytic effect on me. For a moment I could almost see every ligament in his body move in slow-motion as he finally reached the back of the truck, turning away and breaking our connection. Then life around me seemed to resume. The sound of the children playing next door resounded in the background and I could hear my dogs inside the house begin to bark at something. I was forced back into reality and grabbed a towel to dry myself off, all the while hoping I was being discreet enough for him not to notice. When I looked up again he was staring unmistakably at me. He had removed his sunglasses, revealing the most vibrant emerald coloured eyes I had ever seen. He popped the van door open and then paused for a second. My entire body was frozen as I waited for him to make a move, half expecting him to burst out in hysterics at the random act of clumsiness he just saw. But he didn’t laugh, nor did he motion for me to join him in the back of the van like my subconscious was secretly wishing. But, just before he disappeared inside, and just before I forced myself to turn away, I could have sworn I saw him wink at me.

Chapter Two

How’s your head? The man in the white coat asked with fake concern. I ignored his redundant question and continued to stare at the tiled floor. I could feel his eyes on me and practically sense the questions radiating from his gaze even without meeting it with my own eyes.

Dylan, my name is Doctor Rouge and this is Detective Stevens. He’s here to oversee our…chat. You can talk to me, I’m here to help… his voice wandered off as if that was supposed to sound reassuring in some way. My silence was providing the awkwardness I had hoped, and ‘Doctor Rouge’ must have felt compelled to break it for he resorted to scribbling something down in his notebook. The Suit just stood in the background, a toothpick protruding from his tight lips. He was looking down at his nails, apparently bored from having to be bothered with ‘all this.’ What a cliché, I thought to myself.

I shifted in my seat uncomfortably. My head’s fucking pounding actually Doc, thanks for asking, is what I should have said. My hands were firmly clasped together in my lap, mainly in an attempt to stop them from trembling. I shivered even though the room was sweltering, keeping my eyes fixed on the ground between my feet, counting the cracks in the floor.

The Doctor sighed, and then tried again.

Dylan, please allow me to get right to the point. I’ve been appointed by the council to assess your current mental state after the incident… he paused there, waiting for his words to have an effect. What you’ve been through would tip the trauma scale for anyone, and by no means am I here to appoint guilt. I’m simply here to help. His tone was softer now, more genuine. I wanted to look up at him and meet his sympathetic eyes, but my head felt too heavy. Is there anything you’d like to ask or tell me before we-,

Is he dead? My voice came out broken, almost unrecognisable.

I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that? Doctor Rouge asked, readjusting himself to hear me better.

I said…is he dead? The desperation in my voice disappeared, replaced with frustration. I lifted my eyes which were now streaming with tears to face him. Unclasping my hands, my whole body broke out in a tremor.

The Doctor was caught off guard by my question, and his eyes widened slightly before turning down to his clipboard.