Legal Page
Title Page
Book Description
Dedication
Trademarks Acknowledgement
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
New Excerpt
About the Author
Publisher Page
A Totally Bound Publication
Walkin’ After Midnight
ISBN # 978-1-78184-898-2
©Copyright Hank Edwards 2013
Cover Art by Pamela Sinclair ©Copyright December 2013
Edited by Jennifer Douglas
Totally Bound Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2013 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN
Warning:
This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Sizzling and a Sexometer of 1.
This story contains 42 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 7 pages.
WALKIN’ AFTER MIDNIGHT
Floyd has trouble staying interested in men, but meeting Gavin changes everything. Until Floyd learns his boss is dating Gavin. Now Floyd wants him even more.
Floyd Burland tends bar at Dudebaker’s, one of the city’s hottest nightspots. He’s something of a serial dater, but nowhere near as bad as his boss, club owner Shawn Frost. Floyd is trying to figure a way out of an entanglement with Trevor, a Dudebaker’s bus boy, when Gavin Hunt steps into his life. Handsome, outgoing, and just Floyd’s type, Gavin is there to talk with Shawn about a singing gig.
On a moonlit night, Floyd discovers Gavin in the club’s parking lot with a car that won’t start. He walks Gavin home and during their conversation, Floyd realizes he could very easily fall in love with the man. Later, however, Shawn begins to brag that he and Gavin are dating, and Floyd, in a rash moment of jealousy, kisses Trevor the bus boy right in front of Gavin. Soon everyone is pointing fingers and demanding answers, and before Floyd can even try to fix things between him and Gavin, the singer leaves town to pursue his dream of cutting an album.
Will Floyd follow his own dream and pursue Gavin in an effort to win him back? Will Gavin even give him the time of day if Floyd shows up at his door?
Dedication
Dedicated to Beverly Carr, who suggested the beautiful Patsy Cline song, Walkin’ After Midnight. This one’s for you, Beverly. Many thanks!
Trademarks Acknowledgement
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
This Shirt: Mary Chapin Carpenter
Twilight: Stephanie Myers
Dracula: Bram Stoker
Frankenstein: Mary Shelley
The Great Gatsby: F. Scott Fitzgerald
The Fountainhead: Ayn Rand
Walkin’ After Midnight: Alan Block and Donn Hecht
Tell It To My Heart: Seth Swirsky and Ernie Gold
Looking For A New Love: Andre Cemone and Jody Watley
Monkey: George Michael
Money Changes Everything: Tom Gray
iPod: Apple, Inc
Chapter One
Dudebaker‘s was packed, and Floyd was busy behind the bar. He didn’t mind it, though, he liked to be busy. It made the time go by faster and the dollars in the tip jar multiply. And it kept his mind off things, most notably Trent. Floyd liked Trent, he guessed, but something was missing, just like all the other guys he had been dating, and there had been a lot of them.
The odd part about this thing with Trent was, they weren’t even dating. Floyd had just paid him a compliment, and now Trent seemed to think Floyd wanted to date him. Floyd liked to fuck, boy did he ever, but so far he’d just been able to find fuck buddies, not dates. He wasn’t sure if it was him or his choice in men or a combination of the two, but up to now, Floyd had pretty much set his mind to spending his life alone.
To make matters worse with the situation, Trent was one of the bus boys at Dudebaker’s. One thing Floyd had learned after he’d first started tending bar at the club was the bus boys stuck together. Like a pack of hyenas.
As he handed off a couple of beers, Floyd caught a glimpse of a handsome man next in line, the flashing lights from the dance floor like sparks in the man’s brilliant blue eyes. This guy was new, and something about him really caught Floyd’s attention, so he flashed a big smile and shouted over the music, “Hey, what’ll you have?”
This new arrival was just Floyd’s type—tall and lanky, with shaggy dark hair and those bright blue eyes. Floyd felt something ping inside him. It was an intense reaction, one he’d never experienced before, and though it confused him, his smile widened. The stranger returned Floyd’s smile and leaned in over the bar to be heard above the music, bringing those gorgeous eyes and full, soft lips tantalizingly close.
“I’m supposed to see Shawn Frost?” His voice was deeper than Floyd had expected, and it seemed to reach right down inside Floyd’s tight black pants and grab him by the balls.
“Shawn?” Floyd repeated, more to hear that deep voice once more than for clarification. As the owner of Dudebaker’s, Shawn Frost was not only Floyd’s boss, but also a trust fund baby with a more severe case of boyfriend ADD than Floyd had himself. And it looked like Shawn had already finished with his current twink of the week and was about to move on to this new hot number. Floyd cursed his luck of meeting him after Shawn then realized the man was leaning even farther over the bar and still talking to him.
“Yeah. Shawn Frost. Is he here?”
Floyd smiled and nodded. “Oh, Shawn. Yeah, he’s here. Is he expecting you?”
“He told me to stop by tonight,” he said. “Talk to him about a gig.”
Floyd frowned. “A gig?”
“Yeah, a singing gig.”
“Singing gig?” Floyd parroted, unable to help himself. Dudebaker’s didn’t have live entertainment, just a rotating group of DJs that all leaned toward thumping house music.
The guy cocked his head and grinned. “You okay back there behind the bar? You just keep repeating what I say. Maybe all this heavy bass has given you a concussion.”
The heat of a blush surprised Floyd, and he ducked his head a moment to help himself keep perspective. Whoever he was, he was quick with a quip, Floyd had to give him that, and it was a trait Floyd appreciated. It had been a long time since Floyd had met someone who challenged him a bit, and he sensed a shift in his attraction for this new arrival. Now, instead of simply focusing on the man’s looks, Floyd was curious to hear what he might say next.
Floyd lifted his gaze to Shawn’s new boy toy once again and held out his hand. “Let’s start over. Floyd Burland. Bartender.”
A full-fledged smile seemed to light up their little corner of the bar as the man reached out to take Floyd’s hand. “Gavin Hunt. Lead singer of the band Hot Mess.”
Floyd surprised himself by laughing. Even as his mind gauged the softness of the palm he clutched, Floyd wondered if Gavin might have masturbated earlier that day. Maybe with this same hand Floyd held tight to. He could imagine Gavin gripping himself with his long, slender fingers, stroking his own shaft faster and faster until, with a gasp, the slick cum shot out, some of it possibly dribbling down over these same fingers.
“Hello? You okay in there?” Gavin asked, his bright smile dimming a bit.
Floyd blinked. “What?” He leaned in closer, still holding onto Gavin’s hand. “Sorry. It’s so loud in here. Did you say something?”
“Gavin Hunt!”
The booming voice right behind Floyd startled him into dropping Gavin’s hand, and he found Shawn Frost looming behind him. The flashing lights revealed that Shawn had had the tips of his blond buzz cut frosted recently, and his wide forehead was dotted with sweat. Shawn was big, muscular from high school and college football, but slowly going soft as he aged, and he tended to ‘bead up’, as Floyd and Iris, another of the Dudebaker’s bartenders, referred to it. Floyd tipped his head in Gavin’s direction, and said as nonchalantly as he could manage, “Hey, Shawn, this guy’s looking for you.”
Shawn gave Floyd a patient smile and patted his shoulder with one large, meaty hand. “I see that, Floyd. Thank you. You can take care of the other customers now.” Shawn walked out from behind the bar and dropped his thick arm around Gavin’s slender shoulders, leading the man away from the bar and into the crowd.
“He took that twink right out of your hand.”