I'm not much on alpha males—big, brash, muscled and self-confident. In contrast, I've always been drawn to the guys who seem quiet, shy and intellectual—the poets and the guys who run used bookstores. One reason is that I'm sort of that way myself. Until I “blossomed” in grad school, I was a total egghead. I spent all my free time reading. I wore coke-bottle glasses and clothes that were a far cry from fashionable. I blushed, sweated and stammered if someone tried to have a conversation—except in my classes, of course, where I was self-confident and articulate.
Even now, when I've been transformed into a sexy siren who can hold her own in any flirtatious conversation (LOL), I still have a weakness for the nerdy type. Intelligence is an aphrodisiac for me, but that's not the whole story. I've found that the shy guys are often the most passionate and experimental, once you get past the image they present to the world. You can't trust first appearances.
That's what Jason discovers in my story “Crossed Hearts”, released tomorrow as part of the Gaymes anthology. Matthew Sawyer looks to be the perfect nerd, a country bumpkin about to participate in his very first Scrabble tournament. With his innocent face, dark-rimmed spectacles, baggy jeans and cheap shirt, Matt seems like easy prey for a cool cruiser like Jason. However, there's more to Matt than meets the eye. The younger man is full of surprises and teaches Jason quite a bit about sex, love, and self-knowledge.
I don't want to spoil the story by telling you the details, but I'll share the moment when Jason first encounters Matt.
Jason liked mature guys, but this year there seemed to be more than the usual quota of beer bellies and receding hairlines. Then he noticed a handsome, athletic blond guy who was also wearing A&F, loitering by the coffee stand. Jason was just about to head in that direction when a curvaceous redhead in heavy make-up ran up to embrace his putative target.
Damn! Jason turned his back on couple, annoyed by his mistake. This was the best time to make the hook-up, before the pressure of the matches made all of them mutual opponents. He surveyed the far side of the room, on the other side of the mezzanine stairs. Clusters of empty chairs lined the wall. Most people were standing, jostling for a position in the queue as the officials settled themselves behind the registration desk.
One armchair was occupied, however, by a loose-limbed man who appeared to be in his early twenties. His tousled head bent over a sheaf of papers. Jason crept closer, not wanting to startle his prey. The young man was dressed in worn jeans and a short-sleeved plaid shirt that screamed WalMart. On his feet were dingy basketball sneakers. Under the clothes, though, it looked like the guy was well-built, lean and strong. Jason suspected he might be a farm kid, though he didn’t have much of a tan. Jason’s cock stirred. This one looked promising.
The seated man looked up, staring into space through his dark-rimmed eyeglasses. He seemed oblivious to Jason’s presence. Jason could see the youth’s lips moving. The boy was cramming, memorising the two, three and four-letter words that were so important to tournament strategy.
“First championship?” Jason asked softly. The other man started like a frightened rabbit.
“What?” The guy struggled to focus on the man interrogating him. “Um―yeah. Is it that obvious?” A smile transformed his serious face. Full lips curved invitingly, revealing perfect teeth. Brown eyes twinkled behind those sexy schoolboy glasses. A dimple appeared in each cheek.
Jason laughed. His tailored jeans suddenly became much tighter. “We all do it. The memorisation. The alphagrams. But at the tournaments, we don’t admit it. We’d like to pretend that it’s all genius, no sweat or study involved.” He settled himself in the chair next to the black-haired novice then asked, “Mind if I sit down?”—confident that his companion would accept a fait accompli. He spread his thighs, trying to relieve the pressure in his groin.
The other man’s eyes flicked in the direction of Jason’s swollen crotch. The movement was tiny, almost imperceptible, but Jason noticed. Yes! “I’m Jason.” He held out his hand.
The other man’s fingers were smooth, long, well-manicured. Not a farmer, then. “Matt. Matthew Sawyer. Pleased to meet you.”
“The pleasure is mine.” At least, I hope it will be, Jason added mentally.
“I gather you’ve competed here before?”
“This is my sixth time.” Jason couldn’t stop staring at Matt’s face. Something about those lively eyes, that laughing mouth... “Last year I took second place.”
“Wow! Congratulations.” Matt’s admiration seemed completely sincere. “Guess I’m not likely to be playing you, then.”
“Well, you never know. It depends on the other players. As well as your own skill, of course. What’s your rating?”
“I’ve never played an official tournament. We’ve got a little club at home―back in North Platte―but mostly I don’t have the money to shell out for tournaments.” Matt levered himself out of his chair and stuffed his crib sheet into his back pocket. “Maybe we should get in line. It looks like they’ve finally started the registration.”
Jason stood as well. He could see that he’d guessed correctly. The guy had a great body. Matt was close to Jason’s height but probably weighed more. He was more solid than Jason, but he moved well. His muscles were well-defined without being exaggerated. A fine sheen of moisture glistened on his bare arms.
Jason’s nostrils twitched as he caught a whiff of the other man’s clean sweat. He stole a glance at Matt’s groin, but the jeans were too loose to tell how the guy was hung
With some luck, I’ll know soon.
Pick up a copy of Gaymes, which will be out tomorrow, if you want to find out the surprises Matt is about to spring on his would-be seducer.
For an explicit excerpt, visit my website: http://www.lisabetsarai.com/crossedheartsex.html