About Stress Relief
Written by BA Tortuga
175 pages / 60500 words
ISBN: 0-9769923-4-8
Available file types - html, lit, pdf, prc, paperback
Amos thinks he’s gotten away from it all, heading off to the wilderness after the wild life in the city leads him right into an early retirement. Dave thinks he’s gotten over Amos, moving on with his life and driving himself to success at all costs.
So what happens when these two meet up on Dave’s long overdue vacation? Sparks fly, that’s what, and the two of them set about learning that maybe they hadn’t gotten over each other as well as they thought. Moving from the rugged Colorado mountains to the bright lights of the big city and back again, Stress Relief follows Dave and Amos as they learn that they can balance two very different lives as long as they’re willing to compromise a little. And with these two hard headed guys? That’s quite a balancing act.
Sexy, fast-paced and full of love and life, Stress Relief is a great read.
Sample
He had been a big kid -- the football player type. Even in college he'd played and he'd enjoyed it. Not linebacker big, but close.
Then he'd gone to work and with work came lunches at the Tavern and decadent suppers at Louis' or Chez Marie or Mekong River. Snacks with Amos and nights where suppers consisted of a bottle of honey and a plate of apples and his lover's skin.
David looked at himself in the mirror, hand sliding down his flat belly. Those days were long gone, rich food and lazy weekends and Amos washed away by icy Russian vodka, a steady mix of uppers and antacids, and hours of work.
He looked good. Lean. Heading toward skinny. Almost quarterback skinny.
Amazing what a lifestyle change could do to... for a man.
* * * *
''I've arranged an appointment with your barber, David, and your tailor, in preparation for your trip next weekend.'' Iris sounded so... much like Iris, but a little more quiet since Harry died, a little sadder.
''Where am I going next weekend?'' He met her washed-out blue eyes with a smile. David trusted her completely, enjoyed being able to not to worry about his schedule, not to have to think about where he was headed and how he was getting there.
She shook her head and gave him a grin. ''Your sister's wedding? Remember? You're the best man, David. Your speech was emailed to you last week in Burma.''
''Oh. Right. Maria and...''
''Carlton, David. Carlton Evans.''
''Have we arranged for a gift?'' He checked his calendar, sure enough, he was flying down south Friday night, leaving for Paris 3 am Sunday morning.
''Of course. You gave her a lovely set of crystal and paid for the reception.''
He blinked over. ''You must like her, Iris.''
Grey curls bobbed. ''She loves you very much, David. Would you care for anything while I'm out running errands this afternoon?''
''No. Thank you.'' He meant to say something more, something meaningful, but the phone rang and she picked it up at his desk, her British accent more clipped and clear when she was in pro-assistant mode. He was handed the phone with a serious look. ''Jergens from Berlin. There's a touch of complication with the Weston merger, it appears. You'll want to it take it.''
He nodded, popping the lap top open to search for the file as Iris searched through one of a dozen file cabinets and handed him the dossier. By the time he looked up, she was gone.
* * * *
The heart attack was the scariest thing Amos had ever been through. He figured he was dead for sure. It wasn't just a mild heart attack. It was surgery. They'd had to cut him wide open, and damned if they didn't find stuff wrong with some of his other innards at the same time. Now he had a zipper on his chest and belly, a wide, white scar, heavy and smooth.
Now he had a fully functioning heart, but only because of some artery grafting or something. He had one good kidney, and one that was half the size it should have been. There were other things, he was sure, like lingering problems from ulcers and shit, but he tried not to think about it, because he was in good shape, for the shape he was in.
That wasn't the hard part. Neither was the recovery, or the taking up a new job and rearranging all of his priorities.
The hardest part of the whole thing had been telling David he couldn't stay, and knowing that Dave would never go with him.
* * * *
The water only came up to his calves. Cool and clean and clear, it lapped at his legs, and he sank his toes into the mud, enjoying the feel.
Amos bent to scoop up a handful of that water, letting it slide down his chest and belly, over his hip and down his leg. There was nothing like skinny dipping. Nothing at all.
He'd always been something of an exhibitionist, playing games that almost got him caught. Them caught, when he was with David, but he'd never gone so far as to just strip down in a public place back then.
Sometimes he wondered what Dave would think of him now, standing naked in a fast moving river for all the world to see.
* * * *
Amos sat with his feet up on the rail of his porch, beer in one hand, cigarette in the other. His dog Noodle sprawled on the beer hand side, snoring like a buzz saw.
The sunset was bold and bright, all gold and red and orange, painted across the back of the mountains in broad strokes. The breeze was cool, but not cold. He could smell the river.
All in all, life was good. Amos was content. And if he was lonely sometimes for a certain face, or a certain voice? Well. Given enough time the canyon and the river would wear that away.
* * * *
David blinked over at the clock - 03:48. Damn.
He was tired of fighting the insomnia, tired of fighting the stress. Hell, he was just tired.
He got out of bed and stumbled across the room to the shower, the path familiar as breathing. Ten years he'd been in this apartment. God, they'd been ecstatic when they'd found it -- ninth floor, one big bedroom, one tiny one, closets, a view of the city. The selling point had been the bathroom. The walls were covered in blue tiles, the tub big enough to make love in, the shower surrounded in clear, fog-proof glass so they could use the camera if...
Eh. Cameras were all digital now and God knew the steam could probably ruin them in no time.
David brushed his teeth, took four Excedrin Migraine and half a red without even looking. One nice thing about living alone? Things were always right where you left them.
He turned on the hot water, left the light off. If he left at 5, he could be in his office at 6 and be on the phone to London taking care of business.
* * * *
The scariest night of his life had been the night of Amos' heart attack. He'd spent the entire night on his knees in the chapel, lighting candles and praying, feeling more Catholic than he'd felt since he was an altar boy.
The sun had come up and shone through the cheesy stained glass and made his hands mottled in greens and blues and reds and...
He'd promised God anything. Anything at all. Just let his lover wake up and be whole and right and good again. When the cardiologist came out and told him Amos was going to be fine, he'd wept, thanked God with everything he was.
Called the office to tell them he'd be telecommuting for a few days.
Sometimes now, in the middle of the night when the apartment was so quiet it hurt, he thought maybe God had a truly evil sense of humor. He thought maybe he'd never promise anything ever again.
* * * *
David enjoyed his job. Oh, forget that. He loved it with a passion.
He loved the pressure and the challenge. He loved business lunches and the coffee in the break room and the way his office was decorated. He loved the way his heart pounded when he was at the edge of doing something special, something big. He loved knowing that people depended on him, could depend on him.
He loved knowing that there was something he was good at - really good at. Somewhere he wasn't lacking. Somewhere he was important.
Somewhere he did things right.
* * * *
Snowboarding. Skiing. Rafting. Hiking.
A hundred and one things that Amos could do out in the big wide world he lived in, all of them getting him closer to the country he loved.
The canyon walls were red, dotted with gray and green. The trees were all evergreens and scrub, twisted form the lack of rain, made beautiful by deprivation. The river was a black ribbon from the top of the ridge, a silky brownish blue from the lip of his boat, and cold and clear from water level when he was floating through the rapids with nothing between him and the rocks but a life vest.
Most days? It was so damned pretty that he didn't even miss not having anyone but Noodle to share it with.
* * * *
Beans and bacon. They were a far cry from beef roulades and oysters on the half shell and good wine. But over a wood fire? They tasted good. They filled you up. They satisfied.
Amos fed a bit of bacon to Noodle, who snapped it up and sniffed around for more. Besides, you couldn't feed oysters to your dog under the table. It just wasn't done.
Beans and bacon were better.
* * * *
Some days Amos would see himself in a shop window, or in the glassy reflection of the water, and wonder who he was. The way he saw himself, as the pale, soft executive, or the even paler invalid, recovering from major surgery, well, he wasn't that guy anymore.
He was healthy looking. Tanned, with good muscles, okay not a great chest, but arms and abs and legs looked good. He figured his chest was always gonna look a little hollow, but it wasn't a bad look. His beard made his face look sharper, less little boy, and his hair was still nice and thick.
Yeah. Some days he didn't even recognize himself. And sometimes that little shock was a good thing.