Author's Note: This is a sequel to "The Note." The other short stories that follow the same thread are "The Lighthouse," and "Spring Break." They read in chronological order. Your comments are always gratefully appreciated. Send them to me through my profile. I'll write back!
A bed made of kittens.
Well, not actual kittens. But, so soft, so luxurious, so sleep inducing, it was almost the same. A monstrous king size bed, all in white. White walls, white drapes, white furniture. At the same time, pitch black dark. Lights out, black-out shades closed.
Toby felt enveloped in it. He let out a long sigh accompanied by a satisfied groan.
What a day! What a day! What a day!
What was the best part? The sex had to go to the top, of course. Which sex? He chuckled to himself. Let me see...was it getting blown in the shower? Sucking the World's most beautiful cock? Getting his butt eaten out?
Toby covered his face with his hands and shook his head in disbelief. He stretched his arms overhead, then tucked them under the protective warmth of the covers, and did what came natural. He cupped one hand under his balls and wrapped his other hand around his dick.
How does an 18-year old kid from a rather poor island off the coast of Georgia end up in the palatial surroundings of a Montauk Island mansion? A weekend guest of the Turner's. The route he had taken to get here was bat shit crazy. But, here he was.
He'd let Day hold his hand as they walked along the beach. They were returning from an hour of power. Powerful sex, that is. As the Turner's glass, steel, and concrete ultra modern house loomed in front of them, he stopped and turned to him.
"Day, I wanna know what's going on. How did this happen?"
Eric Day Benjamin. 5'10," slender with some decent definition to his shoulders and chest. Short medium brown hair, thick eyebrows, light green eyes, a long narrow nose, square jaw. Sunglasses. Think, "Baby Driver."
Day chuckled, "Oh. You mean the note?"
Toby just stared at him.
"It's really all on CeeCee. She's had it in for you from the beginning."
CeeCee Turner, the girl Toby had met last spring on Tybee Island. Amazingly cute. Flowing brown hair, brilliantly green eyes, a field of freckles across the bridge of her pert nose. Cute figure. High small breasts. His age. Only two months apart.
"When she came back from Tybee, you were all she could talk about," Day continued. "She showed me your picture. I thought you were wicked cute, too. So I started following you on Insta."
"Me??" Toby felt himself blushing. When he recovered enough, "I don't get it. What about the note?"
"You are so clueless, Gallivan. It just makes you even cuter," Day chuckled.
Hey if you're not gay, my friend thinks youre cute. Here's her number: 917-444-xxxx. (And if you are gay, here's mine: 917-743-xxxx. Verbatim. Missing apostrophe and an unclosed parentheses included.
Toby had found the note in a just vacated rental a week ago. In a nutshell, that's how he ended up on Montauk. The first number was CeeCee's. He'd discovered the second number belonged to Day, just an hour ago.
Toby gave Day a confused look.
"We were on Tybee a week ago. I saw you."
"You did??"
"Ya." Day chuckled. "You checked us in. Gave me a chance to scope you out."
Toby frowned slightly, looking off in the distance. He couldn't recall.
"Did we talk or anything?"
"Nope. I kept giving you a look. I got nothin' back."
"How did you know I'd see the note?"
"I didn't. I wrote it on a whim. It was a crap shoot."
Toby looked up into Day's eyes. It was hard to see what he was thinking through his sunglasses.
"So. Are you?" Toby asked.
"Gay?"
Toby nodded slightly.
"Ya, I am." Day chuckled a bit nervously. Then, taking his sunnies off, he looked into Toby's eyes. "Are you?"
After giving Day a royal blow job and getting his own ass rimmed?
"I'm ah...confused, I guess," Toby said softly. He looked down, embarrassed.
"That's ok. You'll get it figured out." Day pulled Toby into him and kissed him on the forehead, holding his lips there for more than a beat.