Heat Wave: Traverse City

Chapter 2

Friday afternoon, Cam picked Mr. Magee, his tri-color basset hound up from doggy day care and was on the freeway headed out of the city in his yellow Ford Mustang as fast as he could manage. He slipped a CD into the dash player. As strains of a Barbra Streisand classic burst from the speakers, Cam leaned back and relished the cool of the air conditioning. He reached out to stroke Mr. Magee’s long ears and sighed.

“Ah, feels good to get out of the city heat, and be headin’ for the cool of Northern Michigan, doesn’t it, boy?” Cam said to the dog sitting in the passenger’s seat.

Mr. Magee turned his big head with his droopy sad eyes and floppy ears, and licked Cam’s hand.

“I’ll take that as a yes. Now, you let daddy know if you need to go and we’ll stop, okay?”

Mr. Magee lowered his head—which accentuated the folds of skin on his face, making his eyes look even more pathetic—and gave a soft woof.

Cam laughed and started to sing along with Barbra.

About an hour later, it was Cam who had to use the facilities. He pulled off the I-96 freeway into a rest stop just outside the city limits of the state capitol. This particular rest stop was long known for being a cruising area.

Cam was not interested in that aspect of the place. He just needed to pee. Cruising had never really appealed to him. As he’d gotten older he found his tastes were growing more restrictive. Not that he didn’t find men in general attractive, it was just that those that really turned him on and with whom he had the best s*x, seemed to be falling into one specific category. Finding those that fit his criteria wasn’t easy, and visiting cruisey spots didn’t often prove fruitful in that regard either. Added to that was the awkwardness of rebuffing someone who came on to you, who was never going to score, no matter how horny you were.

And hit on him was something many men did. Cam was tall, six foot four and strikingly handsome with deep-set, dark, bedroom eyes. He had close cropped, black hair, with a matching well-trimmed beard which was a shade more than scruff, and a skosh less than fully grown. He was, as what was described on the hook-up sites, a slender jock. He had well-toned, well-defined muscles, a small waist, and broad shoulders. In short—a hunk by most anyone’s assessment.

Cam pulled into a parking space and switched off the ignition. Turning to Mr. Magee, he said, “I’ll be back in a flash and then it’s your turn, okay?”

The hound gave him a soulful look.

Cam cupped the dog’s head and kissed his nose. “You’re so homely you’re beautiful.”

Mr. Magee responded by licking the man’s cheek.

Cam cracked a window, opened the door, and was hit by a blast of hot air. “Whoa. Sun’s still up. Not cooling off yet! Better turn on the A/C for you.” He pulled his backpack from the backseat and fished out his spare set of keys. He always carried them with him for situations like this. Cam restarted the car, turned on the A/C, and rolled up the window. “That should take care of you,” he said, ruffing Mr. Magee’s long silky ears. “Be right back.” He got out and locked the door.

He jogged to the structure that housed the johns and went inside, holding the door for a middle-aged woman, who gave him a warm smile and a quick once over. “Nice shirt,” she said flirtatiously.

Cam had no doubt that his sleeveless black tee and khaki shorts showed off his superior build well.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he replied. Cam could tell by her scowl his addressing her as ‘ma’am’ hadn’t pleased her. He smiled as he made his way to the men’s room.

There was only one other person at the urinals. He was short and stocky, with a slight belly. Cam estimated him to be in his late forties or early fifties. He was bald, with a good two days’ worth of stubble. He wore a dirty white tee shirt and jeans.

The man looked up as Cam entered. “Evenin’,” he said, nodding in Cam’s direction.

Cam nodded back, unzipped his shorts, and fished out his c**k, which was impressive even in its flaccid state. Cam was aware the man was surreptitiously glancing his way, as well as leaning slightly backwards to get a peek at Cam’s equipment. Cam briefly thought of giving the man a little tease by slightly stroking his d**k, but remembering all those awkward times at other rest stops, he decided to forego the momentary pleasure of being a bit of a tease.

As the man finished his piss, he took a half step back from the urinal to shake the last few drops from his semi-hard prick, making sure Cam had a full view. Cam could scarcely suppress a chuckle at the blatant attempt to attract him.

Just then another man entered the room. The prick teaser quickly stuffed his c**k into his jeans, flushed, and left.

Ah, not a hand-washer. Another strike against him, Cam mused as he finished up and went to the sink to wash.

Walking back to the car, Cam again marveled at how the heat of the day could linger so long into the evening. When Mr. Magee caught sight of Cam, he put his big paws on the window, threw his head back, and gave out a series of long, basset bah-roos, just to let Cameron know he had missed him.

Cam opened the driver side door. Mr. Magee jumped the console between the seats and stood with his paws on Cam’s chest, licking Cam’s face furiously.

“Okay, okay, I’m glad to see you, too. But I’ve only been gone a few minutes.”

Cam gently returned the dog’s feet to the seat, then tried to slide in next to him.

“Okay, buddy, move over to your side,” Cam urged.

There was no response.

Cam then lifted the hound and deposited him on the passenger side.

“God! Magee, you are so hard to maneuver! You’re like a slinky with that long back of yours. You’d think you weighed a hundred pounds.”

Cam started the car and drove to the far side of the parking lot where the dog run was located. He pulled up next to a rusted out old Ram pickup. When he opened the door he was again hit with the oven blast of hot air.

“Come on, Magee. Your turn now! Let’s get this over with and out of this heat.”

Aware that if a basset hound catches a scent, all obedience training goes out the window, and your dog is gone, Cam attached a leash to Mr. Magee’s collar. The dog galumphed out of the car and went immediately into scent hound mode—nose to the ground and white-flagged tail wagging furiously.

“Let’s get this over with, buddy. I’m sweating up a storm already,” Cam urged as Mr. Magee dragged him back and forth across the wide lawn that served as a doggie latrine. As Cam waited for the hound to find just the right spot to leave a message that he’d been there, Cam wondered where the occupants of the old truck and their dog might be.

Mr. Magee pulled him to the edge of the manicured grass. A path led into the trees. A little pink flag went up in Cam’s mind, but since he was hot and sweaty, he decided it would be cooler in the shade of the trees. Maybe the hound would more quickly find a place of his liking and get on with the task at hand.

Two things altered Cam’s logic and convinced him this might not have been the best of ideas. First, was the swarm of mosquitoes that immediately descended on him and the dog. Second, was the presence of the guy from the john, who sat on a stump, apparently oblivious to the insect attacks, stroking his swollen d**k.

Cam turned and dragged a protesting Mr. Magee from the woods. The man followed, pushing his c**k back into his pants. As they reached the lawn area, the guy caught up with him and said, “Hey! Come on now. I been waitin’ for you out here in this frickin’ heat, swattin’ these fuckin’ bugs soon as I figured that fancy car with the mutt in it was yours. I could tell in the john you were interested. Bet you got as big a dong as that mongrel a yours. Mines pretty nice, too.” He patted his crotch which now concealed his nice d**k.

Cam stopped. He turned to face the jerk who still stood with his hand cupping his package. “First, he’s not a mutt or a mongrel. He’s a registered basset hound.”

Mr. Magee took no interest in Cam’s defense of his honor and continued to sniff for a place to make his deposit.

“Second, you’ve got to be dreaming if you think I’d have the slightest interest in you, no matter how nice you think your d**k might be.”

“Ah, you rich city guys are all alike. Think your s**t don’t stink like everyone else’s, and your c*m tastes sweet as honey.”

“Well, you’re never gonna find out, are you!” Cam returned. “Come on, Magee.”

Luckily Mr. Magee had finished his business and was willing to be led back to the car. However, before he hopped onto the seat, he made one stop. That was to nonchalantly lift his leg to a tire of the rusty old pickup. Cam chuckled as he and Mr. Magee drove off, leaving the truck’s driver swearing up a storm, as he tried to fend off the mosquitoes.