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h_h_gothrykkeTonight's fare is the next chapter in my novel 'An Average Joe...In Love.' There haven't been regular updates because I've been busy and depressed. No one seems to care that I update or not, so, I don't feel like doing anything. This is the one thing I do on a regular basis that even draws even the remotest of interests. We'll see how long that lasts.
Summary: In a world where first contact was made in the early sixties, the lone survivor of Earth's first meeting with an Extra Terrestrial has been raised a virtual celebrity. The appeal of his good looks and easy charm hold no sway for Charlie Gardotte. While his family's obsession with the alien hero was nothing unique, the neglect caused by this was. Charlie wants no part of this cultish fascination, going so far as to cut all ties with anyone who tries to change his opinion.
Not every story has a romantic beginning. When Charlie met Harrison, it wasn't some grand cosmic alignment; bells and thunder never resounded. There was just something about the man's disheveled appearance that made everything in this moment feel real. He never questioned his luck; it never occurred to him to think it might be fate or some such nonsense. He was just Charlie, and Harrison, well...
An Average Joe...In Love
Chapter 6
Cool mist rolled over the grass at his feet. Thick, silken strands, it was almost like walking on sheets. There was nothing like this back home.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, echoing off the canyon walls. They towered high above, a warm orange among the greens and reds of the forested slopes. Gray clouds ghosted over their tops, bringing the mist that flowed around him. Heavy was the air that kept it flat to the ground.
Charlie knew he was on Daro. From the soft grunt of the Tallil Frog-Amphibians, he was on the north-central continent, Aschmunlo. Every proper place name ended in an O sound on Daro.
The wind kicked up, spreading the chokingly acrid scent of Ponpon trees in bloom. Charlie wrinkled his nose, turning away. The musky chemical stink smelled nothing so much as an unwashed men's locker room. It might be fine in small does, but these friggen things were almost overpowering. They had a thirty-two standard Earth year life span, blooming only in the last. Thing was, they did it six times before succumbing to the strain of blooming.
Breaking through the clouds, the planet's distant secondary star glowed a hazy orange. Morning had started, Daro's primary star would soon rise. Despite the sun's rise, he shivered.
Charlie frowned. Aschmunlo was a tropical continent year round. Feeling dizzy, the world blurred around him until he blinked to clear his vision.
Opening his eyes, he shivered in the early morning chill. Thunder rumbled outside the window, shaking the walls and making the window pane tremble. Charlie lay on his side in a soft bed, two pillows stuffed under his head. Clearing his throat, he swallowed a couple times to wet his mouth. As the wind picked up outside, he shivered again.
Hadn't there been blankets last night?
Moving a reluctant hand, he searched behind him for it. He found one covering a solid mass and he frowned for a moment. When had he brought someone home...Oh! Eyes wide, he raised his head off the pillow to glance back.
Wrapped up tight in both blankets and three sheets, the hulking form of his bedmate rose and fell softly in even breathing. The big jerk!
How rude!
The urge to smack him hard on the ass made him frown. If it had been Jerome, he had and would have again. But this wasn't his best friend in the bed. This man, he couldn't recall his name at the moment, was a complete stranger. Who knew how he would react to being smacked.
Charlie had once woken his step-dad from sleep once and gotten a black eye for it. He was lucky, his mom had startled him awake and nearly ended up in the hospital. Walter and Alice slept in two different rooms and Walter now saw a therapist. It didn't help much. Last he heard, Walter still kept his door locked to keep the other kids safe.
Shaking his head, Charlie pushed up from the bed. It looked like he wasn't getting anymore sleep in here tonight. Checking his watch, he found that it was actually six in the morning. Blinking at it, he tapped it twice to make sure. The second hand still moved, so it was accurate.
Grabbing his sweater off the floor, he shivered before he could get it on. The moment it touched his nipples, he hissed in pain and looked down. Bite marks marred the skin around them and he scowled at Harrison's back. Fucker had promised he was only mouthing.
Bed hog and a damned liar. 'That's two strikes, buddy boy!'
He shivered for a different reason, the words of his grandmother echoing in his head. Oma Eloise was a bitch with a wooden spatula. The spoon had broken, so she had Opa carve her a spatula. Far as he was concerned, she could hop her broomstick and fly back to the old country, or Germany. Then again, she had probably been kicked out by the Nazis for being too hard core.
Having had enough of the bad memories and the selfish lovers, Charlie wrapped the sweater tight around him and shambled his way into the living room. The bed was still open from the couch and his bag was sitting next to it. His phone was in the side pocket. He wasn't worried about Jerome being worried about him. Jerome would be suffering alcohol poisoning, a mild case, but still, he'd be out for a while.
He never could understand why people drank so much. Last night had been a one-off for himself. Rarely ever did he allow himself hard liquor. Three beers and he was usually maxed out. Jerome and Sonya were the fish in their group.
No, what he needed to see on his phone were the messages from his charges. Last night had been the fun part for them. He wouldn't get any texts from them during the event. It was in the fall-out the next day that they would vibrate his phone off the table.
Dropping to the bed, he grabbed his bag with a reluctant sigh. He slowly turned it around so he could find the pocket, wanting to drag this out as long as possible. Still, he had a job to do and one he was good at, if he did say so himself. With a sigh, he grabbed the zipper on the pocket and jerked it open. The message light on his phone was blinking like a strobe hooked-in for dubbing.
He snatched it out of the bag, clicking it on then swiping the friggen screen to view his messages. This was all needlessly complicated for a simple task. If people would have quit sticking these phones in their asses, all these steps wouldn't be necessary!
Sure enough, the first message on his list was for bail. One of his gamers had kindly thought ahead and texted they were being rounded up en-mass. There were four more similar messages, all from the same group. He had instituted the weekly bail fund tax for a reason. Off the top of his head, he knew they had at least four grand. That might be enough, depending upon what they were doing when caught.
Two months of saving gone down the tube. So much for that end of the semester trip to PC Beach. They would get the money back, but not until the trial was over or they plead guilty. Either way, it would be next year when it came back. He wouldn't be here, and he hoped the RA for Dorne Hall kept up the tradition.
Charlie paused, his thumb on a text from Sonya. When had he decided not to come back? Last night, he knew he had been thinking about it. The idea had been very enticing. He could transfer to a...and it came back to him with a stabbing pain behind the eyes. Wincing, he rubbed at his forehead.
Sighing, Charlie looked down at his phone. There were still twenty-five messages he had yet to check. Then there were the four voice mails. Seeing all this made him feel weak, too tired to hold up his phone.
A soft murmur from the bedroom drew his attention. Through the doorway, he could see the expansive rise of Harrison's back above the sheets. A small dusting of hair started at his lower back and spread down towards his ass, thickening as it went. The big man looked huge even from this distance.
The urge to go back, climb under the covers and let Harrison claim him again suddenly struck Charlie. It was so out there and unexpected, he twitched. When had he gone from another generic poser to the man Charlie wanted to 'claim him'? What the hell did that even mean?
He was so damned confused. For some reason, he wanted to get back in bed with a one night stand and make it more. The advantage of fucking a stranger was that you didn't have to get back in that bed when it was over. That was it, one time, wham-bam-thank-you-man!
Rubbing his forehead, he really needed something with caffeine in it. Jerome's lingo was infecting his brain and it was making him...less smart. Charlie smacked his forehead, trying to get his brain to restart. It was making him stupid! That was it, stupid, ignorant, lack of intelligence!
There were a spare pair of shorts in his bag. He snatched the zipper back, then pulled them out. It, his shoes, and the sweater would have to do for the bus ride back to campus. If he went back in the bedroom to get his clothes, he wouldn't be leaving. That was a dangerously appealing thought. Finding himself glancing back, he wondered how he even made it out of there in the first place. God, the sight of Harrison's broad shoulders made his groin muscles tighten and he just wanted to ride...
Right, sandals, shorts, door!
He didn't care that he smelled of sweat and stank. This was the first time he had ever done the walk of shame, schlepping on a bus across the city, but he knew plenty of people who did it in far less favorable conditions. This time of morning, there would be dozens of students in this city doing the same thing, smelling the same or far worse.
After slipping on his shorts, he grabbed his bag and headed for the door. His shoes were thankfully in the small pile of Harrison's pontoon sized clodhoppers. As he paused to slip them on, he glanced one last time to the bedroom. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a card with his number on it and tossed it towards the sofa bed. The ball was now in Harrison's court.
That done, he all but threw himself through the door and into the hall. The moment he crossed the threshold, he stepped into a wet, freezing hell. The ceiling had a small leak in it at the end of the hall, but it drained into a vent in the floor. Shivering, Charlie hugged himself tight in the damned knit sweater. Cardigans were for looks, not for warmth. This sucked donkey balls!
Why did those kids have to be so damned childish? They were young adults, they should have known better! Look at him. The worst he did was hookup while avoiding being squashed by falling buildings. He was a total slut in a moment of weakness. So screw him...sue him, the saying was sue him.
He looked back at Harrison's closed door. He wanted to be warm so badly.
Sighing, he took off for the stairs. It would be a long walk to the nearest bus stop in this downpour.
TBC
© 2013 Heinrich Gothrykke, All rights reserved.
Summary: In a world where first contact was made in the early sixties, the lone survivor of Earth's first meeting with an Extra Terrestrial has been raised a virtual celebrity. The appeal of his good looks and easy charm hold no sway for Charlie Gardotte. While his family's obsession with the alien hero was nothing unique, the neglect caused by this was. Charlie wants no part of this cultish fascination, going so far as to cut all ties with anyone who tries to change his opinion.
Not every story has a romantic beginning. When Charlie met Harrison, it wasn't some grand cosmic alignment; bells and thunder never resounded. There was just something about the man's disheveled appearance that made everything in this moment feel real. He never questioned his luck; it never occurred to him to think it might be fate or some such nonsense. He was just Charlie, and Harrison, well...
Chapter 6
Cool mist rolled over the grass at his feet. Thick, silken strands, it was almost like walking on sheets. There was nothing like this back home.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, echoing off the canyon walls. They towered high above, a warm orange among the greens and reds of the forested slopes. Gray clouds ghosted over their tops, bringing the mist that flowed around him. Heavy was the air that kept it flat to the ground.
Charlie knew he was on Daro. From the soft grunt of the Tallil Frog-Amphibians, he was on the north-central continent, Aschmunlo. Every proper place name ended in an O sound on Daro.
The wind kicked up, spreading the chokingly acrid scent of Ponpon trees in bloom. Charlie wrinkled his nose, turning away. The musky chemical stink smelled nothing so much as an unwashed men's locker room. It might be fine in small does, but these friggen things were almost overpowering. They had a thirty-two standard Earth year life span, blooming only in the last. Thing was, they did it six times before succumbing to the strain of blooming.
Breaking through the clouds, the planet's distant secondary star glowed a hazy orange. Morning had started, Daro's primary star would soon rise. Despite the sun's rise, he shivered.
Charlie frowned. Aschmunlo was a tropical continent year round. Feeling dizzy, the world blurred around him until he blinked to clear his vision.
Opening his eyes, he shivered in the early morning chill. Thunder rumbled outside the window, shaking the walls and making the window pane tremble. Charlie lay on his side in a soft bed, two pillows stuffed under his head. Clearing his throat, he swallowed a couple times to wet his mouth. As the wind picked up outside, he shivered again.
Hadn't there been blankets last night?
Moving a reluctant hand, he searched behind him for it. He found one covering a solid mass and he frowned for a moment. When had he brought someone home...Oh! Eyes wide, he raised his head off the pillow to glance back.
Wrapped up tight in both blankets and three sheets, the hulking form of his bedmate rose and fell softly in even breathing. The big jerk!
How rude!
The urge to smack him hard on the ass made him frown. If it had been Jerome, he had and would have again. But this wasn't his best friend in the bed. This man, he couldn't recall his name at the moment, was a complete stranger. Who knew how he would react to being smacked.
Charlie had once woken his step-dad from sleep once and gotten a black eye for it. He was lucky, his mom had startled him awake and nearly ended up in the hospital. Walter and Alice slept in two different rooms and Walter now saw a therapist. It didn't help much. Last he heard, Walter still kept his door locked to keep the other kids safe.
Shaking his head, Charlie pushed up from the bed. It looked like he wasn't getting anymore sleep in here tonight. Checking his watch, he found that it was actually six in the morning. Blinking at it, he tapped it twice to make sure. The second hand still moved, so it was accurate.
Grabbing his sweater off the floor, he shivered before he could get it on. The moment it touched his nipples, he hissed in pain and looked down. Bite marks marred the skin around them and he scowled at Harrison's back. Fucker had promised he was only mouthing.
Bed hog and a damned liar. 'That's two strikes, buddy boy!'
He shivered for a different reason, the words of his grandmother echoing in his head. Oma Eloise was a bitch with a wooden spatula. The spoon had broken, so she had Opa carve her a spatula. Far as he was concerned, she could hop her broomstick and fly back to the old country, or Germany. Then again, she had probably been kicked out by the Nazis for being too hard core.
Having had enough of the bad memories and the selfish lovers, Charlie wrapped the sweater tight around him and shambled his way into the living room. The bed was still open from the couch and his bag was sitting next to it. His phone was in the side pocket. He wasn't worried about Jerome being worried about him. Jerome would be suffering alcohol poisoning, a mild case, but still, he'd be out for a while.
He never could understand why people drank so much. Last night had been a one-off for himself. Rarely ever did he allow himself hard liquor. Three beers and he was usually maxed out. Jerome and Sonya were the fish in their group.
No, what he needed to see on his phone were the messages from his charges. Last night had been the fun part for them. He wouldn't get any texts from them during the event. It was in the fall-out the next day that they would vibrate his phone off the table.
Dropping to the bed, he grabbed his bag with a reluctant sigh. He slowly turned it around so he could find the pocket, wanting to drag this out as long as possible. Still, he had a job to do and one he was good at, if he did say so himself. With a sigh, he grabbed the zipper on the pocket and jerked it open. The message light on his phone was blinking like a strobe hooked-in for dubbing.
He snatched it out of the bag, clicking it on then swiping the friggen screen to view his messages. This was all needlessly complicated for a simple task. If people would have quit sticking these phones in their asses, all these steps wouldn't be necessary!
Sure enough, the first message on his list was for bail. One of his gamers had kindly thought ahead and texted they were being rounded up en-mass. There were four more similar messages, all from the same group. He had instituted the weekly bail fund tax for a reason. Off the top of his head, he knew they had at least four grand. That might be enough, depending upon what they were doing when caught.
Two months of saving gone down the tube. So much for that end of the semester trip to PC Beach. They would get the money back, but not until the trial was over or they plead guilty. Either way, it would be next year when it came back. He wouldn't be here, and he hoped the RA for Dorne Hall kept up the tradition.
Charlie paused, his thumb on a text from Sonya. When had he decided not to come back? Last night, he knew he had been thinking about it. The idea had been very enticing. He could transfer to a...and it came back to him with a stabbing pain behind the eyes. Wincing, he rubbed at his forehead.
Sighing, Charlie looked down at his phone. There were still twenty-five messages he had yet to check. Then there were the four voice mails. Seeing all this made him feel weak, too tired to hold up his phone.
A soft murmur from the bedroom drew his attention. Through the doorway, he could see the expansive rise of Harrison's back above the sheets. A small dusting of hair started at his lower back and spread down towards his ass, thickening as it went. The big man looked huge even from this distance.
The urge to go back, climb under the covers and let Harrison claim him again suddenly struck Charlie. It was so out there and unexpected, he twitched. When had he gone from another generic poser to the man Charlie wanted to 'claim him'? What the hell did that even mean?
He was so damned confused. For some reason, he wanted to get back in bed with a one night stand and make it more. The advantage of fucking a stranger was that you didn't have to get back in that bed when it was over. That was it, one time, wham-bam-thank-you-man!
Rubbing his forehead, he really needed something with caffeine in it. Jerome's lingo was infecting his brain and it was making him...less smart. Charlie smacked his forehead, trying to get his brain to restart. It was making him stupid! That was it, stupid, ignorant, lack of intelligence!
There were a spare pair of shorts in his bag. He snatched the zipper back, then pulled them out. It, his shoes, and the sweater would have to do for the bus ride back to campus. If he went back in the bedroom to get his clothes, he wouldn't be leaving. That was a dangerously appealing thought. Finding himself glancing back, he wondered how he even made it out of there in the first place. God, the sight of Harrison's broad shoulders made his groin muscles tighten and he just wanted to ride...
Right, sandals, shorts, door!
He didn't care that he smelled of sweat and stank. This was the first time he had ever done the walk of shame, schlepping on a bus across the city, but he knew plenty of people who did it in far less favorable conditions. This time of morning, there would be dozens of students in this city doing the same thing, smelling the same or far worse.
After slipping on his shorts, he grabbed his bag and headed for the door. His shoes were thankfully in the small pile of Harrison's pontoon sized clodhoppers. As he paused to slip them on, he glanced one last time to the bedroom. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a card with his number on it and tossed it towards the sofa bed. The ball was now in Harrison's court.
That done, he all but threw himself through the door and into the hall. The moment he crossed the threshold, he stepped into a wet, freezing hell. The ceiling had a small leak in it at the end of the hall, but it drained into a vent in the floor. Shivering, Charlie hugged himself tight in the damned knit sweater. Cardigans were for looks, not for warmth. This sucked donkey balls!
Why did those kids have to be so damned childish? They were young adults, they should have known better! Look at him. The worst he did was hookup while avoiding being squashed by falling buildings. He was a total slut in a moment of weakness. So screw him...sue him, the saying was sue him.
He looked back at Harrison's closed door. He wanted to be warm so badly.
Sighing, he took off for the stairs. It would be a long walk to the nearest bus stop in this downpour.
TBC
© 2013 Heinrich Gothrykke, All rights reserved.
