About Used, Rare, and Custom Jobs III: Tender Awarded
by Chris Owen
32 pages
/ 13300 words
ISBN: 978-1-60370-751-0, 1-60370-751-4
Available file types - html, lit, pdf, prc, epub, Sony-optimized pdf
Desmond Chase has been seeking balance. He's got life as perfect as he could possibly plan: a friend, a submissive, a book lover. A buddy and two lovers. His life is settling into a happy pattern.
Except the submissive is having some issues with the book lover. The book lover wants to be a toppy and take care of himself. And the buddy is renovating his home and has no running water. What can one man do when all three of his partners -- indeed, all four men
-- are looking for the lines they're not supposed to cross and sharing a space that just might be too small to contain them?
Will Des and Wyatt, Archer and Dave and all their many combinations find happiness? Find out in this last chapter of the Used, Rare and Custom Jobs installment.
Sample
Desmond Chase was on the phone when Dave came into the bookstore. Des' hands were full of book, a particularly large and rare volume that necessitated the use of white cotton gloves, and he had the phone wedged between his ear and his shoulder. It was an awkward pose, both for doing business and for greeting an unexpected lover. He couldn't even put the book down in order to move the phone to say hello.
Instead, he nodded at Dave, and smiled, and tried to say everything with his eyes. With his voice he kept talking to the client. "No, there is some edgewear, but it's slight. Contrary to what you've been told, there's absolutely no water damage at all. The spine is a little sunned, but the volume is in very good to fine condition."
In his ear the client's clipped voice said, "Might I come by and see it on Friday? I'll be in the city on another matter, and can come at two in the afternoon."
Dave was smiling at him, his hands in his jeans' back pocket, his eyes saying a lot of things right back at Des.
"Mr. Chase?"
"Oh! Yes, of course." Desmond blinked and turned from Dave to rid himself of the distraction. "Two o'clock would be fine. You have the address?" He closed the book and glanced around for the cloth he kept it in, but saw the sign hanging on the door instead. For some reason the light was hitting it all wrong for that time of day.
Dave was there. Dave should be at work.
The client said that of course he had the address and hung up, leaving Des with a dead phone at his ear, his hands full of a book he couldn't put down and a sneaking suspicion he'd worked over-time without intending to. "Dave?" he asked tentatively, frozen in place. "What time is it?"
"Five thirty-seven." Dave sounded amused, his voice as warm as clover honey. "Want me to close up for you?"
"If you would just flip the sign and lock the door, please." Des sighed and tried to aim the phone at his desk as he let it go. It landed with a clatter, the sound loud enough to make him wince. "God. Honestly, some people will go on for ages before getting to the point. I can't believe he took almost forty-five minutes of my day. He probably won't buy the damn thing, either."
Worse was the knowledge that he'd been on the phone for over forty minutes and there hadn't been any customers in the shop to interrupt him. True, the store was supposed to close at five Monday through Wednesday, but no customers meant no sales, which in turn meant he really had to hope the client did, in fact, buy the volume.
"Does that happen a lot?" Dave asked curiously. The bells over the door tinkled softly when Dave moved them, the sign catching their string as he turned it. The heavy deadbolt snicked into place and then Dave came around the desk and into Desmond's line of sight again.
He was really quite attractive, even with sawdust on his sleeve. Maybe especially because of the sawdust.