The Positions of Love Box Set

Book 1: The Positions of Love-10

Monday came and went. Vic only remembered he had planned to stop and get Matt’s present when he pulled up in front of the apartment they shared. By then, Matt already knew he was home—with their mental connection, Matt could “pick up” Vic’s presence a good two blocks from home. He couldn’t drive off without having to explain himself, and he didn’t want to ruin Matty’s Christmas mood by admitting he hadn’t yet bought him a gift. As much as Matt might claim he didn’t need a present, Vic knew his lover would be sorely disappointed if there were nothing for him beneath their tree on Christmas morning.

Matt’s self-imposed caveat of “something sexy” made it hard for Vic to think up a good gift. The only adult bookstore he knew of was on the Boulevard, on his way home from work. But it was right on the corner of the street, in plain sight, and he refused to park in their conspicuous lot. How many of his coworkers would pass by and see his car? And if someone like Kyle noticed it? Vic would never hear the end of it. No.

Besides, from his experience, most adult stores catered to straight men. There was a gay bookstore downtown, Vic had been there a few times in the past, but it was mostly erotica books and jerk-off magazines—nothing he’d consider buying now that he was in a steady relationship. He needed something special, something unique. Something they could use together, to pleasure them both…

Wednesday evening after his shift, Vic heard the radio DJ announce that there were officially only five shopping days left until Christmas. Five…the thought burned in Vic’s belly like indigestion. He had to find something, and he had to find it tonight.

As he headed home, Vic paid careful attention to the stores he passed, but nothing struck his fancy. At the Boulevard where he normally turned right to head onto the Interstate, he swerved at the last minute and wound up in the left turning lane. A few turns later, he found himself at the start of Cary, a one-way street downtown that ran near the James River. Dubbed “Carytown,” the street was a haven of boutiques and quirky little shops that constantly bustled with students from Virginia Commonwealth University. If Vic wanted something different, this would be the place to look.

Cars lined the narrow street, and shoppers ran from one sidewalk to the other, sometimes jumping out in front of traffic with no regard for the stop lights. Vic slowed to a crawl in the middle lane as he tried to watch both sides of the street for an open parking spot along the curb. There were no parking lots or decks on Cary, and cars lined both sides of the street for as far as Vic could see. After a block or two without finding anything, he sped up, disgusted at the crowds and the other drivers. Forget it—he’d just go home.

Ahead of him, an SUV pulled away from the curb directly into his path.

Vic had to step on the brake to avoid rear-ending the huge vehicle. ::f*****g asshole!::

He shouted the curse in his mind, directing it at the driver in front of him. Instantly, the SUV’s brake lights came on, and Vic saw a young woman’s face in the driver’s side mirror as she glanced behind her. For a moment, she looked right at him. Vic narrowed his eyes and bared his teeth in a mean expression.

Whatever she saw in Vic’s visage made her speed up through traffic, widening the gap between them. Behind Vic, another car honked its horn and his hands tightened on the steering wheel. He hated driving in conditions like this. Bad enough he had to do it for a living. He should be home already, relaxing on the couch while Matt cooked dinner, not here fighting through crowds for a damn Christmas present…

When the car behind him honked again, Vic swerved into the parking spot vacated by the SUV. He didn’t even bother to straighten out—just pulled in and cut off the engine. A car sped past, and though Vic glared out the window, the driver who had honked refused to look his way as he zoomed by. So Vic kicked open his door and stepped out of his car, enjoying the sudden squeal of brakes as drivers stopped to avoid hitting him. Go ahead, he prayed. I dare you.

No one took him up on his offer.

Skirting around his car, he let the jostling crowd on the sidewalk draw him along. He looked in the windows of the stores they passed, hoping to find something that might interest Matt, but nothing jumped out at Vic. With his hands shoved deep into his coat pockets, he stormed past a few restaurants, a bookstore, an old movie theater showing matinees for two bucks a piece, a consignment shop, a women’s clothing store…

A block down from where he’d parked, a stuttering neon sign caught his attention. In bright pink lines, the sign depicted a claw-foot bathtub with a woman in it; every couple of seconds, the sign flickered as bubbles rising from the tub popped, and the store’s name scrolled along the side of the tub. Le Bain de Bulle. Vic recognized the words as French, but didn’t know what they meant. Something girly, no doubt. Look at those damn bubbles…

But a hand-written sign beneath the neon one stopped Vic in his tracks. When someone bumped into him with a, “Hey! Watch it, pal,” he didn’t even bother to turn and growl at them. He couldn’t look away from the flowing script that read, Pamper Your Feet! New products inside.

To Vic, those words conjured up wicked images in his mind—Matt nude on the bed, one foot in Vic’s lap, the other massaged gently between Vic’s strong hands. Matt’s feet dangling over the edge of the bathtub, large and soapy and wet. The way his toes winked out from his pant legs as he dressed. The way they curled into socks, or gripped his sandals, or felt between Vic’s fingers. Matt’s feet were one of the first things Vic had noticed about him—huge, flipper-like, sculpted to perfection. The arch of his sole, the curve of his ankle. The knobby pads on the bottom of each little toe like smooth pearls that Vic loved to nuzzle and suck. The trim, clean nails, the dark fuzz along the top of his feet, the wicked things he could do with his big toe pressed into Vic’s crotch.

Vic had many fetishes—he loved getting f****d up the ass, he loved the way his own body felt completely shaved, he loved tattoos and piercings and the rich, animalistic smell of damp leather. But most of all, he loved, loved, loved Matt’s feet.

He’d found his gift.

Then he entered the store and instantly regretted it. The place smelled strongly of roses and soap, a feminine scent that he didn’t much like. The walls were lined with bottles of all shapes and sizes, each filled with a myriad of colored creams, gels, and liquids—they glistened in the dim lighting like magical potions in an alchemist’s lab. And despite the holiday traffic outside, he was the only customer in Le Bain de Bulle.

Two sales clerks appeared as if conjured by the tinkling bell above the door that announced his presence. One was an older lady, probably the owner, and the other a young, college-aged girl with a harried look that suggested she’d rather be anywhere else but here. With a quick glance to assess Vic, she told the other, “I’ve got it.” Before Vic could even move, she was heading his way. “Hey there. I’m Shawna. Can I help you?”

“Um.” Vic looked around, but he couldn’t tell one display from the next—which of these bottles were the new products? Which pampered feet? And how would he find something he liked without having to open and sniff each single one? He felt like a heathen who had stumbled into a goddess’s shrine—as intriguing as all these effects might be, he couldn’t begin to figure out what they might be used for. If he planned to buy anything in this store, he would definitely need some help. Frowning down at Shawna, he admitted, “I need to buy a gift.”

She was a short girl, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulders, and wore her long brown hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. His appearance, always a little rough around the edges, didn’t seem to phase her—at the mention of the word “gift,” her smile cranked up a notch and she giggled. “Something for your girlfriend?” she asked in a suggestive, sing-song voice.

Vic grunted. “No.”

“Your mother?” she tried again.

“No.” Maybe this wasn’t a good idea—if the store only catered to women, Vic wouldn’t find anything he wanted in here. He liked his man to smell…well, manly, to be honest. Taking a step toward the door, Vic started, “Maybe this isn’t—”

Her smile turned smug. “I get it. Your boyfriend, right?” When Vic didn’t reply, she persisted, “Am I right?”

Vic’s face closed into the mask he usually wore in public. He never lied about his sexuality but he wasn’t one to broadcast it, either. It was a private matter, no one’s business but his own. “I should go.”

“No, wait.” Shawna reached out a hand to stop him. Her grip was surprisingly strong on his elbow. “It’s totally cool, believe me. My roommate’s gay.”

Vic narrowed his eyes, menacing, but her smile never faltered. With a tug on his coat, she told him, “The men’s products are back here. Come on, I’ll show you.”

He had to buy Matt something. And the thought of giving his lover a sensual foot massage as a prelude to making love was enough to entice him to follow Shawna.