Passing Time Read online

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Loose Id Titles by Ash Penn

  Ash Penn

  Passing Time

  Ash Penn

  www.loose-id.com

  Passing Time

  Copyright © March 2011 by Ash Penn

  All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the original purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  eISBN 978-1-60737-958-4

  Editor: Venessa Giunta

  Cover Artist: Valerie Tibbs

  Printed in the United States of America

  Published by

  Loose Id LLC

  PO Box 425960

  San Francisco CA 94142-5960

  www.loose-id.com

  This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Warning

  This e-book contains sexually explicit scenes and adult language and may be considered offensive to some readers. Loose Id LLC’s e-books are for sale to adults ONLY, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase. Please store your files wisely, where they cannot be accessed by under-aged readers.

  * * *

  DISCLAIMER: Please do not try any new sexual practice, especially those that might be found in our BDSM/fetish titles without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither Loose Id LLC nor its authors will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury or death resulting from use of the information contained in any of its titles.

  Dedication

  To my crit buddies at ER Authors—Thanks for all your help and support. I’m so glad I found you guys.

  To Sue—who read as I wrote and wasn’t afraid to tell me what worked and what didn’t.

  Chapter One

  Toward the end of yet another tedious day, Louis Duncan found himself wandering streets he’d not trekked in twenty years. Since his unexpected return to his hometown, he’d tried a variety of the pubs and bars that had sprung up along the High Street in his absence, but only one managed to draw his attention night after night.

  The Prince of Wales public house had undergone a total transformation since the dark and dingy days of his youth. It was now a classy-looking modern bar called Harvey’s. Wood paneling and floor-to-ceiling windows had taken the place of the traditional beer-and-nicotine-stained walls Louis recalled as being off-limits to a teenager looking younger than his years.

  The usual hum of voices permeated the low-level music as he entered the bar and approached the array of bottles. He took a moment to scan the various spirits, although he never ordered anything other than a large bourbon.

  “Hey, Lou.” The barman, Jake, greeted him as though Louis had been a regular for years. “How’s your mum?”

  Louis had spent most of the day at her side, the rhythmic chug and beep of the complicated machinery keeping him company. Occasionally a nurse would rustle up a coffee, and a doctor might pop in to update him on her progress, but apart from that the only conversation he’d shared these past couple of weeks was with a fresh-faced, eternally cheerful barman.

  “No change,” he said, catching the faint nasal vowels of his own adopted New York accent.

  Already the longed-for bourbon, a drink he had yet to order, sat before him. For all his youth, this guy knew how to keep his customers happy. Louis lifted the glass and swallowed the contents, savoring the thin heat flaming down into his belly.

  “Another?” Jake asked, already reaching for the drained glass.

  Louis smiled. For reasons unknown to himself, he always tried to arrange his features into an expression that might pass for pleasant with this particular guy. “Thanks, Jake.”

  Jake returned the smile and then turned away to fetch the bourbon, affording Louis a prime view of plump ass. He wasn’t totally desensitized to the allure of a well-presented body.

  “Cute,” Carter said softly, taking a perch on the stool next to Louis’s.

  “I’m a little long in the tooth for cute.” Louis glanced at his lover, a handsome, smartly dressed man with a shock of sandy hair. Carter grinned, his gray eyes bright and mischievous, exactly like the man he was before the illness had yellowed his skin and ravaged his body to a wispy husk.

  “You’re a little long in the tooth for spending yet another evening alone in a bar, but that doesn’t seem to bother you so much.”

  Louis hunched forward on his stool. “Every day I get to sit by and watch the mother I haven’t spoken to in twenty years slip closer to death. I think I’ve earned myself a few lousy drinks, don’t you?”

  “You don’t think you might have earned yourself more? A shot of that, perhaps?” Carter gestured to the barman on his return.

  “Only you, my love,” Louis muttered as Jake set a fresh bourbon in front of him.

  “Sorry?”

  Louis glanced up to meet Jake’s curious gaze. “Nothing. Just talking to myself.”

  “Is that something you do a lot?”

  “More than I should.” Louis was long past caring whether he looked like a fool or a loon.

  “Do you answer yourself too?”

  Louis shook his head. “Now that would make me insane.” He tried another of his smiles, but his lips refused to tilt.

  “Well, I’m here,” Jake leaned his arms on the bar, all traces of humor gone. “If you feel like talking to someone.”

  Louis laughed. “Haven’t I bent your ear enough these past couple of weeks?”

  “With that accent you can bend my ear any time you like.” Jake gazed at him, although to Louis it felt more like a stare. Did he expect an answer? A few more bourbons, and perhaps Louis might have one for him, but not tonight.

  He downed his drink and reached for the wallet in his jacket pocket. “How much do I owe?” he asked in his best business voice.

  Jake waved a hand. “On the house.”

  “You think that’s a good idea?” Louis took out a note anyway. “I wouldn’t want you getting yourself fired because of me.”

  “That’s not likely to happen. I have a very understanding boss.”

  Louis set the note on the bar. “No boss is that understanding.”

  “Mine is.” Jake slid the note right back. “Did I never tell you my last name?” He grinned. “It’s Harvey. My dad owns the place.”

  He’d not mentioned it, but then Louis had no cause to ask. “Still, I’d rather pay what I owe.”

  “I’ve got a better idea.” Jake took the ten pounds, folded it neatly, and leaned over to slot it into Louis’s shirt pocket. “Why don’t you repay my hospitality by taking me out sometime?”

  He stroked a thumb across Louis’s nipple through the cotton. Louis pulled back as a jolt of pleasure tingled down his body.

  What was this? Flirting? No. No, it was part of the job to amuse the sad fucks who visited bars alone in order to drink themselves senseless before bedtime.

  “I don’t think that’s… Uh, actually, I’ve been thinking about heading back to New York in a week or so.”
It was the best—the only—excuse he could come up with on such short notice. “That’s if nothing improves with my mom.”

  “A week’s a long time.” Jake leaned closer, a flirty sparkle lighting the depths of his eyes. “Besides, I’ll be heading back to uni myself soon.”

  What was he after? A quick fumble with an older man? Something to joke about in the lecture halls to entertain the crowds on a wet Wednesday afternoon?

  “If you’re not busy later tonight,” Jake said, casting a lazy gaze down Louis’s chest, “I know of an incredible Indian takeaway up the road.”

  “To take away where?” As soon as the words were out, Louis winced. He’d lumbered straight into that one.

  A faint blush rose to Jake’s cheeks. “Well, I’m staying with my parents for the summer, but, I mean, you’ve got your apartment and…” He obviously hoped Louis would fill in the blanks.

  Louis forced a laugh. “And with that, I think I’ll be going.” He gripped the bar top as he made to slip off the stool. A hand closed over his own. It surprised him, the only body contact he’d had lately, not counting his holding mother’s withered hand, or Carter’s feathery yet imagined caresses. Jake’s hand sat on his, warm and weighty. Louis studied the fine blond hairs, the short, trimmed nails. He raised his head to find Jake staring back with something like lust smoldering behind those blue eyes.

  “Red or white?” Jake flicked out the tip of his tongue to wet his bottom lip.

  “Huh?” What would that silky scrap of tongue feel like lapping at his balls?

  “Wine. Which do you prefer?”

  “Neither.” Louis pulled his hand away and took a step back. “I don’t touch the stuff.”

  “You only drink bourbon?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Your liver must love you,” Jake said, collecting up the empty glass.

  “My liver and I get along great. Catch you later.”

  “Here’s hoping.” Jake grinned.

  Louis hurried for the exit.

  * * *

  When Louis was shocked awake by a loud, incessant buzz, he swore under his breath, rolled over, and fought to ignore it. The noise seemed determined to keep him awake. Short, violent bursts throbbed through his skull like no car alarm he’d ever heard before.

  He sat up and gazed at the faint moonlight glowing beyond the blinds. He’d fallen asleep on the couch again. The buzzing sound was coming from the intercom by the front door. He didn’t recognize the sound because he’d never heard it before. No one came to visit. No one knew he was here.

  Kids. Had to be. They’d probably thumped every buzzer on the wall and woken the whole building just for kicks. Bastards. He’d show them a kick.

  He stumbled over to the intercom by the front door and snatched up the receiver. “Fuck the hell off, you little shits!”

  “Louis?” a wary-sounding male voice echoed through the speaker.

  “Who is this?”

  “Jake.” The voice sounded small and apologetic. “I’ve bought Indian.”

  Indian? An Indian what? For a moment Louis couldn’t think. He wasn’t convinced this wasn’t a dream. The classic porno delivery-boy scenario, starring the only guy in town he found mildly attractive. “Jake,” he muttered, “from the bar?”

  “Yeah. Why? You know any other Jakes?”

  “No.” Louis closed his eyes, waiting for logic to sink it. It didn’t. “How did you find my address?”

  “You told me.”

  “When?”

  “A few nights ago. Don’t you remember?”

  Louis barely recalled what he’d told the guy earlier that evening, let alone several nights before. “Enlighten me.”

  “You told me you were renting an apartment in a new warehouse conversion by the river. Which gives me a choice of one building, right? And this is the only buzzer without a name on it. Come on, Louis. Stop playing silly buggers. Food’s getting cold out here. Can I come in or what?”

  Can he come in? Why would he want to? What the fuck was he doing here? Jake, from the bar. The good-looking muscular blond with the cheery smile. He’d bought Indian. Presumably for two. He’d want to come in and eat. He’d expect conversation and… Louis didn’t think about what else.

  A sigh crackled through the speaker. “Don’t tell me you’re not hungry. I bet all you’ve eaten today is a wilting sandwich in the hospital cafeteria. Am I right?”

  He was. Louis couldn’t deny the hot meal tempted him. The meal, rather than Jake’s company, led him to press the door release. Or so he told himself.

  Now what? He switched on the lights, blinked away the glare, and moved to the huge silver-framed mirror above the fireplace.

  “Beautiful,” he said to his wild-haired, bloodshot-eyed reflection.

  “The airhead? Or me?”

  “You, naturally.” Louis turned his back on his own hideous reflection. Carter lounged on the couch, flicking though yesterday’s copy of the Times. “There will only ever be you.”

  “Of course,” Carter said from behind the newspaper. “I’m unique. I’m also dead. And the dead make for lousy bedfellows.”

  Louis frowned. “I’m not going to sleep with him. We’re just sharing a takeout.”

  “You needn’t think I’d mind. In fact, if I were alive, I’d join you.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up, honey. After we’ve eaten, I’ll ask him to leave.”

  The newspaper creased in the middle as Carter finally lowered it. “What if he doesn’t want to go? What if his appetite hasn’t been satisfied by a sliver of meat in a midnight curry?”

  Louis lifted his arms to show off his stained shirt and crumpled jeans. “Why the hell would someone like Jake Harvey be attracted to this?”

  “Why else is he here?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he’s after a loan.”

  Carter smirked. “Of what? Your cock?”

  Louis scowled. “No. Maybe I mentioned I’m a millionaire. Who knows what I say when at the end of a night?”

  “You are a millionaire.”

  “No, honey.” Louis sighed. “Not anymore.” He had some of his father’s money left, granted, but nowhere near enough to claim the title of millionaire. “I’ll ask him what he wants straight off. Save any awkwardness.”

  A gentle tap sounded at the door. Shit.

  Carter folded the newspaper in his pale hands and placed it on the table, the pages as smooth as if they had never been read. He leaned back into the couch and fixed Louis with a knowing grin. “Go on, honey. Go get it while it’s hot.”

  Did he mean the takeout? Or Jake himself? Probably best not to ask. Instead, Louis hurried to the bathroom, rinsed his mouth, and splashed his face with cold water. He checked his appearance in the medicine-cabinet mirror, ran a hand through his hair, and went to answer the door.

  Jake stood in the corridor, a faded denim jacket over his sapphire blue work shirt. In his left hand he clutched a carrier bag wafting exotic scents.

  “Hey.” Jake grinned. “Were you on the phone?” He breezed into the flat like this was something he’d done a thousand times before.

  Louis closed the door, wishing he were more alert. “No.”

  “Only I thought I heard you talking. Wow!” Jake dumped the bags on the kitchen counter and gazed about his surroundings. “Fab place. Who’d have guessed this was a derelict warehouse only last year?”

  Fortunately the question was rhetorical, but Louis remembered the ugliness of the Victorian brick buildings. Smashed windows and graffiti-covered NO TRESPASSING signs. He’d broken in once or twice with a group of boys whose friendship only extended as far as the next bottle of vodka he brought with him. His mother always had a plentiful supply and hardly ever noticed when one went missing.

  Jake turned his gaze to the ceiling and scanned the spotlights above his head. Then he flitted across into the lounge and touched the leather couches before running a finger along the top edge of the plasma TV. Spotting the mirror dominating the lounge,
he crossed to it and fussed at his hair just as Louis had moments before, only with one difference. Louis had only wanted to check to see if he could still pass for vaguely human before opening the door to his guest. Jake was clearly preening, although for whose benefit Louis wasn’t sure. That was what he disliked most about this whole situation, the uncertainty. What exactly was Jake doing here? What did he want?

  “You don’t mind me just showing up here, do you?” Jake turned around and flashed one of his gleaming smiles. “Only earlier, you looked as though you could use the company.”