Handy Men Do It Better (2 page)

Jake put on the faded denim, took out a clean shirt and left.

T
he Woods, an upscale condominium complex in Black Oak, surrounded a golf course and contained several man-made bodies of water often frequented by herons and egrets. Langdon’s Landscaping, Jake’s employer, had maintained the complex’s grounds for years.

Jake cut the power to the riding mower and removed his buzzing cell phone from his pocket. He sighed when he recognized the caller to be his boss. “Hey, Gregg,” Jake answered. A turtle jumped off a rock and into the pond. “Yeah, I just finished.” He looked over his shoulder toward the fairways. “Juan’s trimming. We should be done in a half hour.”

Jake finished up the call, restarted the mower and drove it onto the flatbed, where he jotted down notes in the job log. He looked out over the property. He loved the way a freshly cut lawn made the grounds that much nicer. With fingers to his mouth, Jake blasted a high-pitched whistle to Juan, who shut off the edger. “Wrap it up!” Jake yelled, and tapped his wrist. “Tenemos tres paradas más,” he added—Jocelyn’s sharing of her Spanish lessons having made their influence on him.

While Juan edged the eighteenth hole, Jake walked over to the clubhouse to use the restroom and get some water. A golf cart zoomed by. Its driver wore the requisite polo, khaki shorts, and golf cap. A set of clubs jostled in the back as it went over a bump.

“Mornin’,” Jake said.
Whoa, hot dude.

The golfer nodded. Soft-looking brown hair crowned the top of his visor cap. The cart slowed to a stop near the tee. The dark stubble around his chin and his tanned faced accentuated the gleam of his white teeth as he smiled at Jake.

With the clubhouse just a few yards away, Jake watched the man get out of the cart and couldn’t suppress a manly grunt.
Nice
. Jake clocked the golfer to be a few years older than him. Taller.
Check.
Slim but not too.
Sweet
.
And look at those biceps.

The man pulled out a nine iron. Solid pecs stretched the cotton of his shirt, and a firm butt filled out his shorts.

Jake’s cock stirred in his jeans. “Here we go,” he mumbled to his dick, surprised that it’d taken it as long as it had to rise to the occasion.

I
nside the clubhouse men’s room, Jake washed his hands, thought about retreating to the stall to beat off—like he did sometimes on his lunch break—but he knew Juan would be looking for him shortly. He pulled at the hem of his T-shirt and cupped his crotch to adjust his semi hard-on. The empty stall called to him, but he shook his head. “I’ll do it later. Control yourself.”

In the gift shop, he took a couple bottles of water—provided free of charge for the crew—and went outside, where he chugged one down and saved the other for Juan.

“Hot day out, huh?” said a husky voice to his right. Jake turned to see the sandy brown-haired golfer, with visor in hand, using his furry forearm to wipe sweat from his brow.

“Indeed.” Jake took his water bottle and dabbed it to his forehead.

“I bet you’re wishing that were an ice-cold beer.”

Jake hooked a thumb in his pocket. “You buying?”

“I
won’t be dressed right,” Jake said to Cory Hamilton, the golfer who had asked him out for a beer after work.

“It doesn’t matter. We don’t have to go to the clubhouse. Just come when you finish work. We’ll take my folks’ cart for a spin.”

Jake agreed and, after trimming a cypress in Jasper Hills, ditched the company truck at the shop and drove the ten miles back to the Woods to meet up with Cory—whom he found out occasionally visited from North Carolina.

About an hour after the course’s last tee time, they met in the parking lot of the clubhouse. Jake, a bit embarrassed by the sound of his loud muffler, pulled up in his Ranger. Cory waited in a golf cart. After exchanging a quick round of fist bumps to reacquaint, Jake got in the cart and they drove down a path of crushed shells, which rounded the fairways.

“My folks have a place off the ninth hole,” Cory said, as they drove past a couple of pygmy date palm trees. Dusk colored the sky with bits of orange and purple while bottles of beer jangled in an ice chest in the back.

“So you’re just down for the week?” Jake asked.

“I flew in Saturday night. It’s nice to visit my parents and all but”—he placed a hand on his thigh and glanced at Jake—“you know how it is.”

Jake looked down at Cory’s prominent bulge. The khaki shorts, polo, and visor he wore earlier had been traded in for a form-fitting white T-shirt, Levi’s that packed a punch in the crotch, and a pair of Nikes. Stubble still painted his jawline, and Jake let out a soft moan in appreciation.

Cory sat back, his right arm at twelve o’clock on the wheel. With his free hand, he adjusted the package between his legs.

Jake popped a boner and pressed it down to avoid being obvious. Doubts about having opted out of jerking off at lunchtime crossed his mind. Being too randy could lead Jake to premature misfires when the opportunity approached. And while opportunity wasn’t certain this evening, things were looking up.

When they agreed to meet, Jake thought Cory’s stares indicated sexual interest. But, Jake didn’t want to make any assumptions. For all he knew, the guy could have just wanted to get together for a friendly beer.

“If there isn’t anything going on at the clubhouse—” Cory started.

“Like Saturday night bingo or Agnes’s polka lessons?” Jake chided.

Cory laughed. “You know the scene.”

“Mmm hmm.”

“Well, if there’s nothing going on—not that beano or doing the cha-cha are—then this whole complex,” Cory said, motioning with a free hand, “closes up at eight o’clock.”

Jake looked out over the hundreds of condominiums and townhomes. “I’ve never been here at night.”

“Trust me. There’s
nothing
to do!” He drove down a small embankment and turned right by a clump of fern. “Just you wait. When it gets dark, you look out at the buildings, and there will hardly be a light on. Not a soul around.”

Cory parked the golf cart under a large oak tree. Spanish moss dangled from its branches and fell over the back of the cart. Cory killed the power to the battery. “I thought we could sit under the canopy here.” He cleared his throat. “And, uh, pop a couple of beers.”

Jake sensed a bit of nervousness in the golfer’s voice. “Cool. I’m fine with that.”

Cory reached into the back, opened the cooler and took out two beers. “The sunset’ll be nice.”

“Yeah, look at the sky now,” Jake said. “So brilliant. I love sunsets over the Gulf.”

They sat in silence for a bit and drank beer.

Jake pressed the beer bottle against his crotch, hoping the cool would deflate any excitement from reappearing in his pants. “So, tell me. How old are you?” Jake asked.

Cory turned, glanced down at the beer bottle in Jake’s lap. “Twenty-eight.” He looked back up and smiled. “Just turned last week.”

“Ah, well, happy birthday.” Jake lifted his bottle and clanked it against Cory’s.

“Thanks, man.”

“Twenty-eight, huh? Well, you’ve got me beat by five years.” Jake took a sip. “I’ll be twenty-four next August.”

Cory’s eyes shifted up and down Jake. “Nice,” he said and leaned back. His legs opened, the pack in his pants more obvious.

Jake looked down at Cory’s bulge and pressed his beer up against his own pants. The bottle had lost most of its coolness and did nothing to assuage a rise. “What do you do? For work.”

Cory swallowed beer. “I flip real estate.” He knuckled his mouth, wiping moisture from his lips.

“Really?” Jake sat up. “I always wanted to get into something like that.”

“Ah.” Cory nodded. “Well, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. I lost twenty-five thousand bucks last month, but when it works, it pays well.”

“Shit.” Jake looked out his side of the cart at one of the course’s ponds. “Twenty-five thousand dollars is a lot of money.” He pointed to the flowerbed, next to a waterfall. “You see those annuals there?”

“Yeah.”

“It goes on several more yards and wraps around the building. Juan and I planted all of that a few weeks back.”

“It’s beautiful.”

Jake turned to him. “I designed it all myself. I’m not real crazy about annuals. I prefer the variation of green and such from perennials, but the client insisted.”

Cory leaned forward to get a better look. “I’ll have to hire you for one of my jobs sometime.”

Jake put his foot on the dash. “I’d love to work with more northern landscapes. Down here, with the summers so hot, you’re limited.”

“You ever been to North Carolina?”

Jake put his foot down, picked a twig that had fallen onto his lap and threw it out the opening. “I ain’t never been out of Florida.”

“What?”

“Well, that’s not entirely true.” Jake rested his foot back on the dash. “For a job once, we had to cross into Georgia to pick up a beech.”

“Wow, born and raised, huh?”

Jake nodded. “Born and raised.”

“So you’ve never flown.”

“Oh, I’ve been in a plane. When we were kids, my dad took us to Miami. And in high school, I saved up some money and took my girl to Key West.”

T
hree beers in and Jake swore he could see a firm lump sticking out from Cory’s pants, yet the night sky offered no confirmation.

Cory spread his legs farther—his right knee rested against Jake’s. Cory cracked open the bottle of his fourth beer. Jake had a few more sips to catch up. “Two tall, muscular men shoved in a little golf cart,” Cory said.

“Where?” Jake asked, jokingly.

A short silence fell, broken by joint laughter.

Cory rubbed the neck of his beer bottle with the base of his thumb. “Damn. These Florida nights offer little respite from the heat.”

“It’s a warm one,” Jake said and drank the rest of his beer. He held his breath for a moment. “Maybe you should take your shirt off.” He reached behind, put his dead soldier in the box that they were using for empties and helped himself to a new beer. He glanced furtively at Cory.

Cory pulled the bottom of his shirt up and wiped his face. “Only if you do.”

Jake eyed Cory’s exposed abs and said, “Dude, I’ll fucking go buck naked.”

Cory laughed. “We could run around the golf course bare-assed. No one would even notice.”

Jake put his beer between his legs and peeled off his T-shirt. “There.” Baring his chest, and then some, never bothered him, provided he didn’t sport an erection at the wrong time—like he’d sometimes do during gym class in high school, if he hadn’t bust a nut prior to. “Next!” Jake said.

A long stare from Cory followed, and then he put his own beer between his legs and he too ripped off his shirt. He leaned forward, rested his shirt on the back of the vinyl seat and sat back. “Ah, that’s much better.”

Jake’s lips parted, and in a lowered voice he said, “You’ve got a nice body.” He especially liked the tribal band tattooed around Cory’s right arm.

Cory looked at Jake’s torso and smiled. “Thanks.” He paused. “But I think props go to you.”

“Let’s settle on a draw,” Jake said, rubbing his stomach. He liked feeling the definition of his abdominals. With his right hand, he cupped his left pec and tweaked his nipple with his ring finger. When masturbating, Jake often did this and his cock responded in kind.

“Buddy, you look like you’re about to burst out of those jeans.”

Jake looked down at his crotch. “I just might.”

“Me too.” Cory slouched down, pulled at the pockets of his pants and massaged between his legs.

“Shit,” Jake said, “flipping those fucking houses makes for a hot bod.”

Cory reached over and touched Jake’s chest. “And all that landscaping gives nice definition.”

Jake grimaced.

“What’s wrong?” Cory asked, pulling back.

Jake swallowed. “Nothing’s wrong.” His heart beat in loud thumps, making his erection pulsate. A bead of fluid dampened his underwear. “Fuck.” He didn’t dare move too much. The first time he’d been with a guy, several months back, he came so hard in his pants it looked like he pissed a gallon all over himself.

“You sure you’re all right?”

Jake closed his legs tight and bit his lower lip. “I almost came.”

“Shit, dude. That’s fucking hot.” Cory grabbed the tip of his cock head through his denim—straining, practically down to his kneecap—and tugged his penis.

“I’m just really turned on. Honestly,” Jake confessed, “I’ve got a bit of hair-trigger dick. If I don’t cum at least once a day, I’m apt to blast off unknowingly. I’m surprised ’cause I did...never mind.”

“Fuck. Dude, you’re a keeper. But let’s say we go for a walk. Calm you down,” Cory said.

“Good idea.”

“The moon’s nice.” Cory stepped a foot out on the ground. “Besides, two burly men in a golf cart are liable to get leg cramps after a while.”

Jake wiped his underarms with this T-shirt. “It is getting kind of hot in here.”

They took their beers and walked toward the wooden bridge on the northwest side of the course. Neither man’s erection had completely subsided. Both took the opportunity to glance at each other’s protruding bulges as well as catch a glimpse of their sinewy torsos.

“You’re one cut dude,” Jake said.

A wry half-smile curled the corner of Cory’s mouth. “Likewise.”

Bats flew overhead, while the shirtless men walked and listened to the sound of katydids and tree frogs filling the air.

On the bridge, Cory stopped and leaned up against the railing. “You all right?” he asked, and adjusted his package.

“Um, you’re getting me going again.”

“Maybe we should let our cocks out.”

Jake’s cock stiffened more. “Here?”

Cory looked off to his right. “We could go in those trees over there.” He grabbed the shaft of his penis running down the leg of his jeans. “I don’t know about you, but I just need to let it out. Let it breathe.”

Another drip of pre-cum oozed its way out of Jake. “I...I...think I’d like that.”
If I can hold off.

Under the moonlight and a clump of pine trees, Cory unzipped his pants first. He pulled his Levi’s down slightly, lay on the grass and rested on his elbows. “There. It was literally aching to get out.”