Friday, November 21, 2014
Wanting His Man: The Bath House Boys story continues
Wanting His Man (MM) The Bath House Boys book 3
Blurb: Zephaniah Deakin, the server in the snack bar at the gay bath house, is in love with the cook, Roger Woodhead, but he never notices him. Zeph is determined to break into Roger’s heart and mind.
Roger knows what Zeph wants and it’s the same thing he desires. But he can never ever sleep the night with anyone, and once Zeph finds that out the relationship will break up for sure. Roger doesn’t want to leave the bath house. It’s the best job he’s ever had. And he certainly doesn’t want to upset Zeph. So the best plan is for them not to get any closer than chef and server.
Zeph manages to persuade Roger to relax in the hot tub after work one evening and then they go upstairs to one of the private rooms. Roger convinces himself that it’ll be all right because Zeph won’t expect him to sleep the night there.
Buy link: http://www.bookstrand.com/wanting-his-man
This title is offered at a 10% discount. Offer ends midnight CST, November 29th
Zephaniah Deakin, the server in the snack bar at the gay bathhouse, stood at the window, staring down into the courtyard garden. The café didn’t open officially for another ten minutes and Roger Woodhead, the cook, hated to be disturbed during his early morning preparations. Roger with his crisp, short black hair, and impenetrable black eyes.
Well Zeph wanted to disturb him. Zeph wanted to unzip his houndstooth chef’s pants, pull them down to his ankles, and swallow his huge, delicious cock whole. He wanted to kiss Roger’s sweet, unbelieving mouth until neither of them could breathe. And then he wanted to bend over the counter or any one of the tables here while Roger fucked him fast and hard until both of them came screaming in release.
There was just one itsy bitsy teensy weensy problem with his list of desires.
Roger didn’t want him. Well, likely he wanted him as the server here. But not as a lover. Zeph liked his job at the bathhouse. It was really good not to have anyone stare at him and comment on his habit of wearing short shorts or skin-tight jeans and half a dozen chains around his neck. If he could just make his way into Roger’s bed, life would be perfect. But every time he tried to interest Roger it was like banging his head on a brick wall. Roger totally ignored him. Their daily conversations generally consisted of two words frequently repeated. “Meal’s ready.”
And if Zeph tried to chatter about the day’s events, people they knew, the weather, anything at all, Roger turned his back and began cooking something, or cleaning something, or even washing dishes, which was Zeph’s job when the place was quiet.
Damn, fuck, and shit. How can I get him to look at me? Truly look at me?
From up here on the second floor the garden looked really attractive. The gardeners worked hard to ensure there were always flowers in bloom, and evergreen bushes and shrubs as well as deciduous trees in winter. Not that Zeph was interested in being outdoors mostly. He liked a nice mild temperature all year around and saw no need at all to be outside apart from the commute from his apartment to work and home again. That was another advantage of working here at the bathhouse. He could sit on a lounge chair beside the pool and talk to people as much as he wanted to when he wasn’t on shift.
He still liked to go to Pinky’s bar at times though. He wanted to be held and to dance, and since Roger wouldn’t look at him, the only place where he could relax was the gay bar. Damn Roger. Why wouldn’t he talk to him? What was his problem? He was the sexiest man Zeph had ever met even though he picked his nails until they were so short they bled. He had to wear latex gloves to cook and serve the food because he was always torturing his nails. Zeph was sure he could give Roger the kind of blowjob that would keep him relaxed until he had no need to worry his poor defenseless fingernails ever again.
At exactly ten a.m. Zeph opened the roller door to the snack counter and began setting up the coffee machine. It was a temperamental thing, and everything always had to be done exactly right, or it was likely to spit hot water or coffee at him. Mel, the manager’s personal assistant, liked her coffee just so, and Zeph always made hers first because he knew she’d be up here at 10:15 sharp, desperate for her mid-morning wake-me-up.
The bathhouse itself was open at six, because there was a group of serious fitness fanatics who liked to swim laps in the morning before going to work. But the place didn’t really wake up until ten thirty or even eleven. That’s when people wandered in for some brunch or an early lunch after swimming and a sauna. The afternoons and evenings blended together, with people visiting for more erotic reasons than just exercise. Or, Zeph snorted, to have a more personal kind of exercise, maybe. Damn he wished he and Roger could head upstairs to one of the private rooms for a little personal exercise. Whatever am I to do with the man? How the fuck can I show him I want him when he won’t talk to me?
Just as usual, the machine was ready when Mel appeared. “Abe wants a coffee as well this morning, please, and a cookie or donut if there are any.”
“Uh-huh. He’s gone off that diet has he? I always think those celebrity diets are a load of trash.” Zeph hurried back to the coffee machine to make the manager’s coffee. He liked it extra strong.
“Not everyone is skinny like you, Zeph. I think Abe’s started to worry about developing a bit of a paunch now he’s turned forty. I’m glad he broke up from his ex. The bathhouse has improved in leaps and bounds since he did.”
Zeph handed her the two coffees on a cardboard tray, as Roger passed a paper sack across the counter. “You tell the boss from me he needs some sugar to keep thinking up brilliant new ideas to improve the bathhouse. Letting Bart display his paintings and drawings here was pure genius. People come to the cafe just to look at them and end up buying a snack or a coffee while they’re here. He needs to come up with a few more ideas like that.”
Zeph just stared at Roger. That was the longest sentence he’d heard from the cook in weeks. And he’d never seen Roger give the artworks displayed on the long internal wall more than a casual glance. I need to stay back later tonight and see if Roger will talk to me then.
Buy link: http://www.bookstrand.com/wanting-his-man