Motel. Pool.

Readers Love Kim Fielding’s

“The book is well written, the plot moves along at a quick pace, the situations are believable, and there were moments of cringe-worthiness, heart pounding lust, tears, frustration, fear, repulsion, and at last a HEA that was warm and fuzzy but so well deserved.”

—MM Good Book Reviews

“When I finished the last page of this book, I had to take a deep breath and attempt to get my wayward emotions under control. This is a powerful story, it had me crying, angry, frustrated and mad. It also had me laughing and smiling and happy.”

—Hearts on Fire Reviews

“Read this book. You will be a bigger person for having seen this story unfold in front of your eyes.”

—My Fiction Nook

“What a talent this author has in bringing us such a dark and sad topic and balancing it with light and sweet scenes. I thank you, Ms. Fielding for writing such an inspiring story that I know I will never forget.”

—The Novel Approach

“Bill’s story is haunting and heartbreaking, but Colby and William are fun and heartwarming. The emotional extremes meld together perfectly and work together to raise this touching story to another level. I highly, highly recommend it.”

—Reviews by Jessewave

“A truly memorable love story which also reflects on a history that I hope never repeats itself.”

—The Romance Reviews

By
K
IM
F
IELDING

Alaska

Animal Magnetism (DSP Anthology)*

Brute*

Don’t Try This at Home (DSP Anthology)*

Good Bones* • Buried Bones*

The Gig

A Great Miracle Happened There

Housekeeping

Men of Steel (DSP Anthology)*

Night Shift

Pilgrimage*

The Tin Box*

Snow on the Roof (DSP Anthology)*

Speechless

Steamed Up (DSP Anthology)*

Stitch (DSP Anthology)*

Venetian Masks*

Violet’s Present

*Available in paperback

Published by
D
REAMSPINNER
P
RESS

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

Published by

Dreamspinner Press

5032 Capital Circle SW
Suite 2, PMB# 279
Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886

USA

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Motel. Pool.

© 2014 Kim Fielding.

Cover Art

© 2014 Paul Richmond.

http://paulrichmondstudio.com

Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and

any person depicted on the cover is a model.

All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/.

ISBN: 978-1-62798-879-7

Digital ISBN: 978-1-62798-880-3

Printed in the United States of America

First Edition

May 2014

For Dennis, who can still surprise me.

1955

“I
WANT
to go for a swim.” Jack hopped off the bed, ignoring the small twinge in his ass, and grinned across the mattress. Sam still wore most of his clothing, although his shirt was rumpled and his pants were unfastened.

 “It’s too cold out, kid,” said Sam.

“Cold? It’s at least seventy.” Back home in Nebraska, everyone was still bundled up in thick coats and wool hats, cursing as they slipped on the ice or shoveled the sidewalk for the hundredth time. Wouldn’t they all turn green if they could see Jack with his suntan?

Sam zipped and buttoned his trousers, did up the buckle, and drained the tumbler of whiskey he’d left atop his dresser. He rummaged a moment in one of the drawers before grabbing something and tossing it at Jack.

Jack caught the fabric neatly. “Bathing suit?” he asked when he unfolded it. “I thought you liked me like this.” He spread his arms wide, putting himself on display. He knew what Sam saw: tight muscles, trim waist, decent-sized cock.

Jack turned around, showing Sam the butt he’d said was so spectacular he wished he could put it on the big screen. “I’d make posters of that ass,” Sam would say. “Better’n Grable’s legs or Monroe’s tits.” Then he’d usually give the body part in question a good squeeze or a healthy smack. Now, though, he only growled, “Doris is here.”

Blinking slightly, Jack stepped into the swimsuit. It was dark blue with white piping, and tight even on him. No way it would fit Sam, once trim and handsome—Jack had seen photos—but now with a substantial paunch. And a bald spot that threatened to conquer his entire scalp. “I thought she was in New York.”

“She was.” Sam smiled and used his palms to stretch the skin tightly across his cheeks. “She had some work done. She’s hiding out here until the bruises fade. Don’t tell anyone. Top secret, right?”

“Yeah. Of course.” Jack looked down at the garment. “Whose is this?”

“Yours now. Merry Christmas.”

“Yeah, but—”

“How the hell do I know? Probably somebody sent it to me. Companies are always sending me shit, wanting me to put it in one of my films.”

That didn’t explain how the suit got into his dresser. But Sam’s mouth was turned down at the corners, so Jack dropped the subject. “Gonna come with me?”

“Nah. Got calls to make.” He jerked his chin toward the door. “Scram.”

Ignoring the abruptness of the dismissal, Jack loped down the long hallway. As always, he marveled at the wall-to-wall carpeting. None of the scuffed wood and worn lino from back home. Someday when he bought his own house in Beverly Hills, he was going to put carpets everywhere—even in the bathrooms.

He skidded to a halt when he reached the kitchen and discovered Doris sitting at the table, leafing through a magazine. Her blue bathrobe matched her eyes exactly. Her blonde hair, usually carefully styled, was pulled into a ponytail, and the dark circles under her eyes made her look tired. She gave him a wide smile. “Hi, Jacky! When did you get here?”

“A couple hours ago. Sorry—I didn’t know you were here.”

“I was still in bed. Beauty sleep.” She pursed her lips before taking a swallow from the glass in front of her. It looked like orange juice, but Jack would have bet that a good portion of it was vodka.

“Pfft. You’re too beautiful already.” She
was
still pretty, actually. When she’d married Sam, she’d been a real knockout—Jack had seen those photos too—although never quite stunning enough for the leading-lady parts. She usually played the sister or the best friend. Of course, she hadn’t appeared in anything for years, although sometimes after a few drinks she’d explain that she was planning a comeback. Sam would just roll his eyes and puff on his cigar.

“You look pretty cute yourself, kiddo,” Doris said. “Are you giving an old lady a thrill or heading for the pool?”

“You’re not old, but why not a little of both?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

She laughed and flapped her hand at him. “Go. Get in a few laps before Sam decides to drag you back into his bedroom.”

He felt his cheeks color before he exited through the sliding glass door. The first time Sam had brought him home—to his house in Los Angeles, not this one in Palm Springs—Jack had been thrilled to have captured his attention. Even back in Nebraska, everyone knew who Sam Richards was. Hell, he’d been nominated twice for Best Director! But when they walked inside the mansion, Jack barely had time to be awed before Doris made an entrance into the living room, glass in hand. Jack almost died of embarrassment. But she’d been nice to him then, and later that night, in the privacy of the bedroom, Sam had explained that he and his wife had an understanding. She kept quiet about Sam’s boys and he kept her well supplied with luxuries. “It’s a business arrangement,” Sam said. “Works out for everyone.”

Even now, nearly a year later, Jack still felt disconcerted when Doris openly acknowledged that Sam was fucking him. But she continued being nice to him, so he guessed he didn’t really mind that she knew.

The pool was that exceptional turquoise color that seemed to exist only in California, and the sunlight glinted so strongly that he wished he’d worn sunglasses. He grabbed a towel from the teak cabinet next to the house and spread it over a lounge chair. Yeah, probably it was a little chilly for swimming. But the pool was one of his favorite things about this house, and he never missed a chance for a dip. Back in Omaha, he’d never met a single person who had a swimming pool in their backyard. It was possible nobody in the entire state of Nebraska had their own pool. He was for sure going to have one—a big one—when he bought his own house.

He stretched his arms wide, then high, took a deep breath, and dived into the deep end.

The cold water momentarily shocked his system. If his balls hadn’t already been squished in the tight briefs, they’d have tried to crawl into his body. But he began swimming with smooth, steady strokes. He’d made both the varsity swim and baseball teams, although neither impressed the majority of folks in a state bonkers over football. He certainly didn’t impress his parents, that was for sure. His dad said sports were frivolous, as were the school plays where Jack always got the lead. “When I was your age, I was
working
,” Dad said. “Helping support my family.” Jack’s mom fussed over his grades. She told him if he studied a little harder, maybe he could go to a junior college. Maybe even get a scholarship.