Neon Yellow: Obsessive Adhesives (3 page)

Now, the room contained a computer. Not unusual in most homes, no, but Sky disliked technology, only using it because he had to. The computer had to be Nathan's. A twenty-four inch monitor dominated the desk, Sky's old ledger nowhere to be seen. Jason moved the mouse and the screen lit up displaying wallpaper of a 1965 Mustang. He nodded to himself. Yup, Nathan's. Sky would have clouds or a tranquil river there. He right clicked on ‘My Computer’ and read through the specs, nodding to himself. Intel, dual core, 2GB of Ram... not bad.

"Jason,” Spencer hissed. “Should you be touching that?"

"Relax. I know my way around a computer."

"What are you doing?"

"Just checking the specs. I'm in IT: natural curiosity.” Jason closed the window and decided not to have a look at how big the hard drive was.

"Still.” Spencer nervously bit his lower lip. “You shouldn't be looking at it."

Jason rolled his eyes. “I wasn't digging for personal stuff and if I break it, I can fix it. Probably better."

"That doesn't make it right. How would you like it someone was to snoop in your computer?"

Jason snorted a laugh. “They'd never get into it. And I wasn't snooping."

"Fine,” Spencer turned away from Jason. “Oh, that's beautiful,” he said, walking closer to the framed print on the wall.

"It is, huh?” Jason forgot his irritation at Spencer's moralistic outburst and moved up close behind him. “Easy subject, really. Nature makes itself look good.” Jason spoke close to Spencer's ear and felt the man shiver. He laughed softly. “I took photos the whole time; it was just as beautiful before the dark umbra and the diamond ring straight after was one of the most amazing I've ever seen."

"I wish I could have been there,” Spencer said, his gaze still focused on the photo. “Well, maybe in 2012 I'll go to Australia and see it for myself."

"Great idea. Maybe we'll know each other well enough by then to go together.” Jason let his lips brush Spencer's ear.

Jason felt Spencer tense and took half a step back. The last thing he wanted to do was scare Spencer. The man was fascinating Jason more and more. He looked so dull, just blended into whatever scenery was around, and yet... if one looked closely, as Jason had had the opportunity to do this evening, it was easy to see that Spencer was very attractive. His brown hair was straight, but so soft, and there were little glints of auburn among the brown strands. And he smelled nice, a fresh, clean scent that could only be smelled this close. His face was nothing remarkable as a whole; it seemed that he was perfectly average, if there was such a thing. But his eyes, which the glasses made look small, were—as Jason had noted earlier—beautiful.

"Why don't you wear contacts?"

"Never thought about it.” Spencer shrugged his shoulders. “Glasses are easy."

With his fingers under Spencer's chin, Jason made Spencer look at him. “You have beautiful eyes."

Spencer's cheeks flushed and his tiny eyes stared at Jason from behind the wire rimmed glasses. “Thank you?"

Jason laughed. “You do.” He carefully removed Spencer's glasses. “These make your eyes look tiny. You'd get more... company if you wore contacts.” Jason considered the rectangular spectacles for a few seconds. “But I don't think I'd like that, so... keep your glasses and I'll be the only one who knows."

"You guys still down here?” Sky's voice reached them as they heard the front door opening.

"Nope,” Jason called back.

"Ha ha, funny.” Sky appeared in the doorway. Jason saw his eyes go straight to Spencer's unadorned eyes and then to the glasses, which Jason was still holding. A blond eyebrow rose in silent question.

Spencer blushed even more, if that were humanly possible. Jason wondered if anyone had ever chatted him up. Complimented him? Kissed him... fucked him? Jason shook his head, not wanting to explore those possibly uncharted waters. Virgins weren't for him, no matter how cute they were and how beautiful their eyes. But, to be the first man to touch Spencer... to hear him moan... to feel his lips...

"Um, wonderful photo, Jason.” Spencer took his glasses and put them on. “I think it's time to go. Thank you for inviting me, Sky.” Spencer quickly moved past Jason and Sky. “I'll just say good-bye to Nathan."

"You can't go yet.” Sky's hand shot out and caught Spencer's arm. “There's cake. I made it yesterday and it's always better the second day."

"No, I...” Spencer glanced at his watch and seemed to be purposefully ignoring Jason. “I really should go."

"Please stay. Besides, I'm not ready to relinquish Nate to take you home."

Spencer sighed and tugged his arm free. “Okay, I'll just... I need some air,” he mumbled and hurried from the room.

"Please tell me you didn't proposition him,” Sky mock scolded.

"Nope. Not that I didn't want to, but...” Jason shook his head, surprised at that admission. “All I did was tell him he has beautiful eyes, and see what happened?"

"You had his glasses in your hand."

"I wanted to see him without them. He really is quite cute."

Sky rolled his eyes. “You're scaring the crap outta him. He's not going to go anywhere near you if you're not careful."

Jason shook his head. “No probs. I don't have time to deflower virgins. Too many experienced boys out there."

"Thanks for the ride Nathan.” Spencer opened the door of Nathan's dark blue Mustang.

"No problem. Glad to meet you,” Nathan replied.

"Same here.” Spencer smiled, gently closed the car door, and headed down the slate walk to the front door of the little cottage he rented.

The ceramic planter that had been filled with red chrysanthemums lay smashed at the bottom of the stoop, dirt and flower pieces scattered all around.

"Damn.” Spencer kicked the broken pot to the side.

"Everything okay?” Nathan called from the car.

"Yes. Just a broken pot. Neighbor's dog must have knocked it over,” he called back and waved to Nathan.

The Mustang pulled away from the curb with the deep rumble that only comes from a V8 and Spencer wondered what it cost to keep the thing running. Turning his thoughts back to the more mundane matters of his life, he made a mental note to buy a replacement plant pot and chrysanthemums. Damn, it was good to be home again.

After hanging up his jacket and placing his keys on the hook next to the door, Spencer slumped down on the best second hand sofa he could afford and sighed. The evening had been great, he was glad Sky had invited him over—and that he'd accepted. It was so very interesting seeing the pictures of Australia and hearing the wonderful stories. It wasn't often Spencer had someone to talk to about rock hounding like he'd been able to this evening. He had joined a local rock hounding club that met once a month at the library, but he doubted that anyone there had ever been to Coober Pedy.

Spending the evening in Jason's company had, at first, worried Spencer. The man was so cocky and confident at work—teasing colleagues, flirting with the girls and sometimes even being positively rude to people on the telephone. But, out of work, he'd been a surprise. Spencer never would have thought Jason the type to fly off to Turkey to see a solar eclipse. Who knew Jason was so approachable? And apparently gay. Not that it would do Spencer much good knowing that. Jason was so far out of his league, it wasn't even worth considering.

The man's mild flirtations this evening had been just that. Spencer had already guessed that Jason liked being noticed and, as the only unattached person that evening, he, Spencer, had been singled out to be that adoring public. Well, Jason most certainly was hot, but Spencer was glad he hadn't given in. He'd be forgotten by tomorrow morning. Oh well, he was used to being alone, anyway.

Still, seeing Nathan and Sky happily together filled Spencer with sadness and jealousy. Neither of which he enjoyed. At times like this, Spencer longed for some male companionship to counter the loneliness. Was it his fault he was shy? High school had been a horror of being taunted and teased. In college, Spencer had decided to forego the same treatment, and spent his time taking extra courses. That hard work paid off. He'd graduated a year early and found a placement at Morgan & Richmond. After only a couple months Spencer was well on his way to promotion.

By age twenty-eight he planned to be running the accounting department. Six years was more than enough time to make his dream a reality. So, socializing was on the back burner—it was overrated anyway. People just never gave Spencer a chance and he didn't have the time to change their minds.

Maybe he should go to the local animal shelter and pick out a cat. A cat would keep him company on these rare occasions and make Spencer feel needed. Adding that to the ‘to do’ list in his head, right after ‘buy new chrysanthemums’—maybe yellow this time—he decided he needed a hot bath. Relaxing in that with a few drops of the relaxing blend of oils Sky had sold him, and a good book, sounded like just the thing to get rid of the pity party he was currently hosting.

Spencer entered the well lit bathroom—which was odd, he was usually so anal about turning lights off—and turned the taps on. Once the tub was filled, he undressed and slipped into the soothing hot water, romance book in hand. It was his weakness; he loved a good gay romance. It was so easy for Spencer to imagine himself in the stories, finding the man of his dreams and being swept off his feet—in a manly way, of course.

In no time, the main characters were replaced by himself and Jason. Jason... a walking wet dream. Spencer could still feel the brush of Jason's lips against his ear, and the memory seemed to interest his cock as well. Jason had been so interested when Spencer spoke, even instigating conversation. Obviously, Jason was just being polite. Spencer knew he wasn't anything special, boring brown hair with matching boring brown eyes and nothing spectacular about him. He was a rock hound, into astronomy,
and
an accountant for Pete's sake; that just screamed nerd. But still, it was nice to fantasize about Jason actually being interested and wanting him.

The book dropped to the tiled floor as Spencer's hand stroked his cock. His fantasy was filled with Jason's spiky blond hair—so easy to grab onto—and his sparkling blue eyes—so easy to get lost in—and his lean fit body pressed tightly against Spencer's. The water sloshed around as Spencer's strokes became more frantic and he screamed out his release. One of the many reasons Spencer was glad to rent a house rather than an apartment was that he didn't have to worry about neighbors hearing his shouts as he wanked. God, he was pathetic.

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"Hi, Shaun,” Spencer addressed the tall, buff security guard as he entered Summerset Mall.

"Good morning, Spencer. Have a good weekend?"

"Yes, thanks,” Spencer lied. He'd spent some of his night restlessly tossing and turning, unable to sleep for thoughts of Jason and his flirting. “Did you have a good vacation?"

"Sure did.” Shaun winked, as he always did.

Spencer smiled and headed for the elevator, wondering why his stomach didn't go to butterflies when Shaun winked at him like it did when Jason smiled at him. Obviously Shaun was straight. The wink was probably just Shaun's way of teasing the nerd. It wouldn't be the first time someone had a laugh at Spencer's expense. He'd heard what everyone in the office was saying about him.

The elevator opened and Spencer headed toward his desk. The neon yellow Post-It note caught his eye and the morning's coffee churned in his stomach. Robotically, he sat in his chair and stared at the note stuck to his computer monitor. There hadn't been any of them for a while now. He'd thought that whoever was leaving them had become fed up with teasing him and moved on. But no. Of course not. It would be just his luck that a creepy note leaving stalker would be the only person in the world to
not
ignore him.

Good morning, Sunshine.

You looked so hot in those faded blue jeans yesterday.

Made me want to fuck you right there in Sky Hawk.

See you soon.

Spencer stared at the note and swallowed hard. His throat was drier than the Sahara—fear had a way of doing that. This note was different from the others. It was more personal. Had he been
followed
to Sky Hawk? Spencer wanted to get right back up, head for the elevator and call in sick. But... what kind of man was he if he was afraid of Post-It notes? There had to be a logical explanation for all this. The notes were probably left by one of his co-workers playing a joke on him, though it wasn't very funny. It could be Rosa, trying to ascertain if he was gay, hence the
fuck you right there
statement. Then again, Rosa seemed the dominating sort. Shaking off the image of Rosa wearing a strap-on, Spencer pulled the note off the screen, crumpled it and tossed it into the mesh trash bin next to his desk. He took a deep calming breath. No way was the prankster getting the satisfaction of seeing him rattled. Sooner or later, the person responsible would grow tired of it and leave him alone.

The door to the lunch room opened and closed, the squeak of its hinges making Spencer cringe. He looked up—maybe it was the note leaver—and saw Jason. That was unusual in itself. Jason never arrived at work early. He usually raced in with seconds to spare. And once or twice, Spencer had seen Jason writing 8:55 next to his name in the sign in book, when the time was actually 9:10.

"Hey, morning,” Jason greeted him and indicated the cup of coffee he was holding. “Want one? I need another. This time of morning sucks."

"Morning,” Spencer said, his gaze shifted from Jason to the crumpled note in the trash bin. “Thanks, I'd love one.” Could Jason have left the Post-It? That theory was quickly shot down, Jason never came in this early and he didn't seem the secret admirer/stalker type.

"No probs.” Jason disappeared back into the lunch room.

Spencer slumped in his chair. Okay, chances were that Jason hadn't left the note, but had he seen it? God, Spencer hoped not. Not with what it had written on it. Jason might think... well, he'd think that Spencer was some sort of slut who put out anywhere and everywhere. He groaned silently.
Nothing
could be further from the truth. He was a virgin. He was sure that female singer that was more butch than he was, Pink something, had been watching him when she wrote
that
song. It'd been just him and his hand—and a few select magazines—for as long as he could remember.