“I told you not to call me.” Harry Dunne glanced behind him. “Olivia, I’m working. I’ll be home for dinner.” He hung up and placed the cellphone on the side table.
Fingers ran down his back from behind.
Harry rubbed his face and rose off the bed. “I have to go.” He entered the bathroom and turned on a light. The brightness showed his jowls, mustache, and bald dome head. Not to mention his big hairy belly, hairy chest, and arms.
He closed the door behind him and stood at the toilet.
~~~~~
Jules Gregory relaxed in the soft hotel bed. He listened to the water run in the sink and the toilet flush. Jules yawned and then sat up on the big pillows.
Harry exited the bathroom and grunted as he got dressed. “I don’t know when I can see you again.”
Jules bent his knees and wrapped the sheet around them. “Okay.”
Harry yanked on his cowboy boots and picked up a cigar he had been smoking earlier. He chomped it, then held his wallet and counted out cash, leaving it on the side table, and picking up his cellphone. He pushed a button on it and spoke into it, “Mitch? What’s the hold up on that wood we ordered?” He put his cowboy hat on as he left the room. “Well, get him to deliver! I’m not paying my hard-earned cash to sit on my ass and wait for that housing project to be finished!” The hotel door slammed behind him.
Jules picked up the money and counted it. “Huh. And I’m not even a hooker.” He slid off the high bed and entered the bathroom to shower. He noticed Harry had left his bolo, one made from turquoise and silver. Jules glanced into the reflection at himself.
He admired his looks. His blue eyes and brown hair, his tight twenty-two-year-old body. Yes, he was having a secret affair with a sixty-nine-year-old Texas landowner. So what?
He felt as if he had the best of both worlds. Here in Texas, his secret lover paid him cold hard cash, loads of it, and Jules didn’t have to work. All he had to do was make an old man climax.
He met Harry at a casino. Harry loved poker. Gambling in Texas was illegal, mostly.
It seemed as if rich white old men could do as they wished in this state. Being gay here? That would bring on a good-ole-boy hanging.
Maybe. It depended on which neighborhood or bar you entered.
Ten years ago he didn’t think it mattered. Lately? With the hard right running this state? Maybe being gay was better off kept to oneself.
Jules showered and then pampered himself with the extras the pricy hotel offered. Since Harry had paid for the room with his credit card, including room service, Jules got dressed and picked up the curtesy phone as he read a menu left on the desk. Using a deep voice with a southern drawl he ordered, “Yes, I’d like prime rib, rare, and a baked potato. How about a garden salad and add a mojito?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Thank you. Leave it outside the door. I’m busy.”
Jules hung the phone up and stuffed the cash into his wallet.
