The same guy--the late-thirties rancher who had been the lone diner at a table--that first day Gabe had some into the Lone Star Diner in search of a job, was coming in three or four times a week by the time Gabe had been a waiter there for three weeks. He and Gabe were on speaking terms. His name was Frank Doyle, and he owned a cattle spread called Sunshine north of town that was more than a thousand acres but that ranked as small by the area standards. He said it was at least a forty-five-minute drive into Guthrie from his spread and he suggested more than once that Gabe might like to come out and see his ranch.
What was most evident was that he had a crush on Gabe and mooned over him but that he was too reticent to ask for what he wanted. Sam Waller made no bones about what Gabe would do for a customer if he had the money for it--although the man sex business wasn't too brisk, Frank had seen more than one cowboy with his tongue hanging out and a bulge in his jeans go upstairs with Gabe and come back down with a silly grin on his face. And the few times Sterling Fisher came into town to lay Gabe, anyone in the diner could hear the thumping of the bed legs on the floor and headboard against the wall of Gabe's room above the diner. But, although Frank surely had the money as easily if not more easily than the cowboys coming into town off the 6666 and Pitchfork ranches, into Gabe's fourth week at the diner, he hadn't made a move. Neither had Gabe made a move to leave for Lubbock. He had the money he needed now, but he was settled into life here and what he was doing--at least for now.
Men like Frank wanted more than the sex. Men like him often are looking for companionship and a long-term relationship. Gabe liked this about Frank but he decided that Frank wouldn't make the move unless Gabe signaled he'd give it to him for free--that it was more than just a trick for Gabe. Gabe was attracted to Frank, who was all that aroused Gabe, but Sam had made clear there would be no giveaways or the progression on that would never stop. So, Gabe and Frank were friendly with each other in a Mexican standoff sort of way.
That was until the day that Collin Chisholm roared into town.
Gabe was standing by Frank at Frank's table and the rancher had, for the first time, palmed Gabe's ass in a hand while they were talking, which was a bold move for the shy rancher. Frank was quite good looking and he appeared to have a nice, well-worked body. Frank was a hands-on rancher, which was better than spending hours every day in a bodybuilder gym. Gabe found him easy to talk to and attractive. He had a couple of men working his ranch with him, but he put in a full day's work outside himself, so he was lean and muscular and tanned. He dressed clean and neatly, in tight jeans, with a nice bulge in the crotch, and a plaid cotton shirt, cowboy boots and a ten-gallon hat.
He seemed to keep his body clean too, and he always smelled nice, not something to take for granted from cowboys in these parts. There were no complaints about him in that department and it was clear to Gabe that the man wanted him. So, Gabe was teasing the man along. They'd finally gotten to having established that, yes, Frank was interested, and, yes, he knew there was a price involved, and, no, that didn't deter him. It was like Frank had gotten across that barrier at last.
"I like you just fine, Frank, and I think we'd be good together," Gabe had said, following that with a "maybe you'd like..." It was midafternoon, after the diner had cleared of the lunchtime crowd--not that there ever was much of a crowd. Sam and his wife, the cook, were back in the kitchen and cleaning up. Carol was on a smoking break, but she could be called back to watch the front whenever Gabe had someone he needed to take upstairs.
All systems were go for Gabe and Frank to get together at last. Both men obviously wanted it.
But then they heard it, the roar of a motorcycle coming in from the west. It arrested their attention, as this wasn't exactly motorcycle country, and Frank backed off from Gabe. Something strange was happening that demanded everyone's attention. Everything was too far from everything else in the big sky country. Everyone around here moved in pickup trucks. You couldn't have started too far away in terms of Texas distance and be riding a cycle.
But someone was. Someone was riding a motorcycle--someone who pulled up right outside the diner. Not long after the motor was cut, the door to the diner opened, and Mr. Magnificent strutted in.
He was an Adonis--a bit over six feet, movie-star handsome, not more than twenty-five, muscular, sultry and dangerous looking, decked out in black leather, and walking like he owned the place--not just the diner or the town, but the universe. Taking a look around the diner, with his eyes stopping on Gabe and giving him a million-dollar smile, the handsome stranger walked to the lunch counter and mounted a stool like he was seating himself on a horse or his Harley-Davidson, resting outside the diner at the hitching post--or mounting his lover. He was walking in one direction, but his gaze remained latched onto Gabe, leaving no doubt where his interest was. His legs were spread on the stool as a man would do who had to give his basket plenty of space to fill up. Gabe cut away from Frank and scooted behind the counter in time to be there when Mr. Magnificent settled on his stool.
"What'll you have?" Gabe asked.
"What are you giving?" the young Adonis asked. He had a slow and easy smile, one of possession.
"Would you like to see a menu?" Gabe asked. He spread his arms and placed his hands on the surface of his side of the counter. The Adonis wouldn't know it, and Gabe himself didn't realize it, but he was already taking the cruciform position of total, sacrificial sexual submission that Pastor Parker had trained him to. But, somehow, from the look the young man gave Gabe, the Adonis
did
know it. The seduction was over. The Adonis could have laid Gabe out on the counter there, in front of Frank and the other diners, and fucked him, and Gabe would have submitted to him.
Gabe curled his fingers and set his hand down on the knuckles, touching the tip of his thumb of each hand to the index finger, making an "O" opening. He did it with each hand. It was a signal he'd been told to use to identify upstairs business. He was symbolically offering up the sheath for a man's cock--either mouth or ass, customer's choice. His heart and cock took a lurch when the gorgeous young man spread his arms on the customer side of the counter and inserted his middle fingers in the sheaths Gabe was providing with his hands. He knew the code, and he was a dominant top. The offer and dominant assertion were complete. The rest was just preliminary banter and a question of price. They both knew where this was going. What was on edge here was price. The Adonis had thrown down the gauntlet with his "What are you giving?" He was signaling that his cock was so hot, it didn't have to pay for servicing.
"I was told this was the place in town to come to get a man's itch scratched. If I were to look at a menu, would you be on it?"
"You were told--"
"That this was the place to get male tail, yes. Are you the male tail here?"
