Chalk Butterfly: Part One (First Time Erotic Romance) (2 page)

His breath puffed out like wisps of smoke
into the cool air, and he walked in the leaf cushioned gutter,
listening to the leaves yield and break as he tread across.

Entering the station, he slipped his
traveling pass from his pocket, barely keeping hold of it in his
stiff hands.

“Soho,” the track listing read, and he
stepped onto the familiar train. The passengers were all familiar
to Alexander, he knew them well by their briefcases and drab suits;
the commuters from Long Island and New Jersey. They were all headed
into New York City for their busy days, busy jobs and busy lives.
Alexander smiled, settling in his seat, glad for his quiet days in
the library.

The suits barely paid attention to
Alexander, though lately there was always a seat left open for him,
so he knew they weren’t completely mindless.

But today was Wednesday, and Alexander never
rode the subway on Wednesdays. So when a tall, blonde man shuffled
and sat beside him after the first stop, he merely scooted over and
turned his head toward the window.

It was to be an unusual day, indeed.

***

Daniel never rode the subway into work. He
didn’t like the cluster of people all breathing on each other in a
tightly confined area.

He enjoyed the short brisk walk from the
stoop of his Gothic-inspired apartment to the hidden parking garage
across the way. The building was dauntingly impressive, with a
cream colored outer facade adorned with elaborate carved moldings,
rod iron arches above each window and a sizable veranda just
outside Daniel’s spacious living room. It wasn’t much of a walk to
the garage, but it got his blood pumping and opened his ears and
eyes to the new day.

Now in autumn, he enjoyed it doubly; the
crisp scent of the biting air, the crunch, crunch of the browning
leaves beneath his smart leather shoes. He’d take his fill of the
cold, and the real, and then he’d shut it out by sliding into his
sleek black Porsche.

It was the perfect balance for him
(something he’d perfected over the course of his forty some odd
years), but that Wednesday a rather bothersome chain of events lead
to him purchasing a ticket for the E-train into Park Place.

That morning he’d woken to the blasting
radio, the disc jockeys slinging inane babble and insults. The
traffic report, though, had caught his attention.

Seventh Avenue, though usually very
congested in the morning rush hour, was beyond hope; a completely
clogged and unmoving stretch of cement.

Daniel couldn’t get into
work by that route-- at least in a timely manner,
and he had things to do. He’d just hired a new chef on staff, a
shipment of freshwater salmon would be arriving at ten and Owen was
threatening to revamp the menu himself if Daniel showed up late one
more time.

“So much for running my own restaurant,”
Daniel had muttered, slipping out of bed and thinking his options
over one by one in his head. The subway was a logical choice, and
Daniel was nothing if not a logical man-- though a little eccentric
in his ways.

He'd boarded the train car, dressed in all
charcoal, mixing in with the suits, though his seams were a bit
tighter, and the fit of his jacket a bit fitter. The car wasn’t too
full, and he could’ve had his own seat, but the train started
abruptly and he sat in the first spot available.

A young man, dressed in a large wool jacket
and fuzzy black mittens shared his seat and Daniel looked down to
the floor. That’s how one rode the subway, wasn’t it? Keep your
eyes to yourself, hands to yourself-- locker room etiquette.

But he’d always been a but of an oddball,
and he’d always gotten his way. It's how he made his millions in
the restaurant business.

One look at the young man beside him and he
found he couldn't tear his eyes away.

Chapter
One

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Daniel settled his leather case in his lap
and turned himself slightly so he could watch the man sitting
beside him. The younger man didn't pay him any mind, it seemed he
was lost in some faraway thought as he gazed out the window.

As impolite as it was, Daniel couldn’t keep
his eyes from the man’s slightly hunched form. There was something
there, something off, something twisted and obscene. Daniel looked
away, focusing on the drab men and women who shared the train. They
sat perfectly upright, eyes ahead, hands jammed in pockets or
occupied with cell phones, pagers, papers.

The stranger beside him shifted, and
Daniel’s eyes fell back onto him. Peeking out beneath the man’s
dark jacket, just at the base of the throat, was a bright splash of
red fabric. Daniel thought of autumnal leaves, and crisp, biting
air. This time he didn’t look away.

The younger man hugged his chest, long arms
over a lean torso, forehead pressed against the cool glass; his
breath fogging up the window. He sat still enough, on the whole,
but as Daniel looked closer, he noticed that the man was fidgeting
slightly, eyes squinting, legs bouncing against the seat.

Somewhere in Daniel’s right hand, between
his thumb and forefinger, trapped behind the knuckle, was the feel
of a paintbrush. It was an old and worn feeling, one of splintering
wood. Daniel hadn’t painted in months, though it had been a true
passion of his earlier years. He didn't mourn the loss of his
youthful ambition; he'd let it slowly fade out of his life so
gradually that it left no painful nostalgia behind.

It was simple to look at the young man as an
incomplete composition, to first focus on the area, and then the
detail. He often saw people this way, as the lines that tethered
them together, created their movement and energy.

The man’s slender arms were two fluid lines,
and his proud jaw, one dark mark. A light plum line cut down his
form, keeping him grounded. He was shape, and Daniel watched,
fascinated in how he came together.

Alexander, gazing out at the dim city
through the chilled, thick glass, was oblivious to Daniel’s blatant
appraisal, of how the older man connected lines and formed
beautiful shapes. Alexander was thinking of the day ahead; the
train stop, the walk to the library and the trip up the concrete
steps.

It was easy to become overwhelmed, but if
Alexander planned everything out beforehand, if knew precisely what
lay ahead, his distress could be managed.

Of course Daniel hadn’t a clue that he’d be
the most unplanned turn in Alexander’s way.

“A little bumpy isn’t it?”

Alexander snapped his head back, immediately
stolen from his reverie, a flushed look creeping across his
face.

“I’m sorry?” he asked quietly. He met the
warm gaze of the stranger sitting beside him.

Daniel smiled and tipped his head in toward
Alexander. He wasn’t entirely sure, but he thought he heard a hint
of British accent in the young man’s voice, and now he was doubly
intrigued.

“I said this track is a little bumpy, isn’t
it?”

“Oh, um… yes it is,” Alexander replied, not
finding his voice in the noisy train car. Silence endured between
the for a few moments and Alexander got the distinct impression
that the inquisitive stranger was waiting for more of a response.
“But it always is,” Alexander said. “Um, you don’t ride much, do
you?”

“Why would you say that?” Daniel asked. He
quirked an eyebrow and watched the young man slowly uncoil himself,
finding nothing obscene in the new shape he took on.

Alexander bit his lip and swallowed a little
too hard, feeling rushed to speak. “Well, it’s just, most men, or
um, people in general, I guess, usually don’t start conversations
with total strangers on the subway.” He lifted his head and upon
finding the older man’s gaze directed toward him, dropped his eyes
once more. “Sorry, that was blunt…”

“Ah, I see,” Daniel replied, the corners of
his lips curling up. He could see the man’s jaw tense, the muscles
working under the skin and against the teeth. The apprehension in
the younger man was almost tangible, and Daniel, feeling somewhat
responsible for the discomfort, set about erasing it. He was quite
good at managing people and manipulating them into the right
shapes. It was part of his job and a well loved hobby.

Daniel’s smile warmed Alexander’s belly for
a moment, stifling the uneasy turning in his gut, and Daniel could
sense his demeanor softening.

“Subway etiquette, is it?” Daniel asked,
seeming to mull over the idea in his head, his eyes never leaving
Alexander. “Then how do people meet if we’re all supposed to keep
our eyes to the floor and our mouths shut? I ask you that, and
while I’m lecturing on the subject, I can’t believe that someone
such as yourself doesn’t receive countless inappropriate and
etiquette breaking conversation starters on a daily basis. It’s
very silly.” He took a short breath, smirking. “And that’s a
mouthful.”

Alexander flushed deeper, eyes flickering to
his feet, and then back to the stranger’s smiling eyes.

“It is,” Alexander finally replied, voice
barely above a whisper.

“Strangers soliciting you on the subway, or
the mouthful bit? I thought it was a little much myself,” Daniel
admitted. He leaned an elbow back against the seat top, shifting
into Alexander’s personal space unintentionally.

“It would depend on what’s being solicited,”
Alexander said. He slid back in the seat, watching Daniel’s forearm
and being careful not to trip over his own words. “I mean, I doubt
that’s what you meant, but I give up a few quarters every morning
to the squatters outside the station. I like to think maybe it
helps. But in the long run they’re probably not spending it on
anything healthy. Oh bollocks, what am I talking about? I…” His
tongue was proving itself useless again, heavy and clumsy in his
mouth.

“You ought to be solicited more often,
then,” Daniel said.

Alexander’s brows furrowed, and Daniel
grinned, sliding in closer-- wanting to see the flush of
Alexander’s cheeks close up. It was a few terrifying inches for
Alexander, though there was still a sizable space between them.

“Maybe your quarters will end New York City
hunger, or at least thirst for spirits,” Daniel continued, removing
his gloves and folding them up inside his jacket pocket. “And
that’s a yes to your first question. I’m a first timer on this
track. Insane traffic this morning, I usually drive into the city.
My name’s Daniel Sommer.” Daniel extended his hand, but Alexander’s
own hands stayed folded neatly in his lap.

“I’m Alexander Price,” Alexander said
politely. Daniel dropped his hand back, realizing the gesture
wasn’t going to be reciprocated. Surprisingly, Alexander not only
found Daniel genuinely interesting, but also rather unpredictable—
though, if he admitted it to himself, that was the interesting
part. The realization unnerved him.

It was, however, no surprise to Alexander
that he found the man attractive. He’d always known of his
preference, and never worried over the stigmas that might attach
themselves to him because of his sexuality. He’d grown up in a
liberal London and had learned to be grateful for everyday and
every moment.

And he was.

He wouldn’t let the workings of his heart
plague him, he’d promised himself that, and it had thus far been a
fairly easy promise to keep. Intimate relationships were never a
real factor in his life; people shied away from the dark eyed
beauty, afraid of breaking the delicate man. Or at least that’s
what he liked to tell himself. He didn’t want to admit that maybe
he was the one who shied away from others.

Alexander even had a difficult time
maintaining friendships, as he tended to brush people off, afraid
of the stinging rejection. Meeting Elijah had been an astounding
exception; they had immediately bonded after Alexander had been
hired at the library.

Subtly, Alexander shifted away from Daniel,
watching the building tops roll back into the distance, eyes slowly
making the journey back to the intriguing man beside him.

Just from a glance he knew that the man was
quite a bit older than himself; the light lines that formed around
the pale blue smiling eyes and soft mouth were telling signs, a map
of years. A touch of grey could be seen along the man’s temples,
peppering the dark honey colored hair. Alexander guessed Daniel was
in his early forties, and while the age gap was slightly
intimidating, it was doubly intriguing.

The man was well put together, that was for
certain. Alexander reddened as he appraised Daniel; his strikingly
handsome face, the solid body well defined even under the bulky
clothing.

Looking up and meeting Daniel’s eyes once
more, Alexander found himself at a loss for words. “Oh, um… you
drive in? How on earth do you find a place to park in the city?” he
asked.

Alexander was not the most adept at
unplanned conversation, as most of his social interactions were
with Elijah and the children at the library, but he wasn't always
at a complete loss. He simply found it easiest to speak with
children; it was his job but it also fulfilled him more than any
other aspect of his life. Children, it seemed to Alexander, weren't
judgmental creatures, they were merely insatiably inquisitive.