Blue Collar

  BLUE COLLAR

  by

  SEAN MICHAEL

  Amber Quill Press, LLC

  http://www.amberquill.com

  Blue Collar

  An Amber Quill Press Book

  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author's imagination, or have been used fictitiously.

  Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Amber Quill Press, LLC

  http://www.AmberQuill.com

  All rights reserved.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  Copyright © 2014 by Sean Michael

  ISBN 978-1-61124-642-1

  Cover Art © 2014 Trace Edward Zaber

  Published in the United States of America

  Also by Sean Michael

  Art And Snowflakes

  Carved In Wood

  Crouching Vegan, Hidden Werewolf

  Digging For Gold

  Dirty Kisses

  Full Disclosure

  The Good Life

  Making Your Own Luck

  Office Hours

  Recipe For Love

  Revving It Up

  Royal Line

  Serving Mr. Right

  Silver Edges

  Spot The Difference

  Wallflowers

  Welcome Home

  The Wizard And The Thief

  Working It Out

  Chapter 1

  Kendall finished working on the timing belt of the ancient Chevy, then wiped his hands on his rag. He was having the time of his life, working here at Pete's Garage. He spent most of his time doing the basics and cleaning up, but the boss let him tinker with the junkers, practice after hours. Play. Avoid going home. All that shit.

  The sound of a car running without its muffler heralded a customer moments before the bell rang as the car pulled in.

  It was a Mustang that rolled in, cherry and candy apple red. Huh.

  Kendall looked to the office, Pete waving him on. They wouldn't be working on it tonight anyway.

  The man who got out of the car was a fucking stud in a three-piece suit, the epitome of tall, dark and handsome. Kendall headed over, not looking. No looking. None. Zero. Looking at other men got your ass kicked, got you fired.

  "Hey." The man smiled and, fuck him raw, look at that face.

  "Hey. Can I help you?"

  "I'm sure you heard me come in--my muffler's shot."

  "Yes, sir. Let me take a look and I'll see how bad it is." He gave the guy a wide berth, making sure not to brush against him.

  The guy leaned casually against the 'Stang and it just made him sexier.

  The muffler was shot, the whole thing torn up. Someone had been driving on some shitty roads. "Yeah, you've trashed it."

  "Yeah, I figured, given the noise it was making." This man's voice was deep, smooth, almost like a good whiskey.

  "There's no way we can get this part in tonight. Did you want to leave it here or bring her back in the morning?" It was probably going to be at least a few days to get the parts in.

  "There's no point in driving her around while she's sick." The Mustang was stroked, petted.

  "Are you wanting factory original or an upgrade to a catback?"

  One dark eyebrow rose. "Which'll make it run better?"

  "Well, it depends. The cats give a great sound, but the Borlas? They're loud and I love the look from the rear. It's a matter of money and taste and sound." Kendall headed to the office, rambling on about all the different types and prices and options.

  "I like a good-looking rear," the guy told him when he'd done talking.

  "Then you might consider the Borlas. It's a little pricey, but fine. This is my boss, Pete. He'll hook you up."

  "Oh, I'd rather you hook me up."

  Was that as suggestive as it sounded?

  "I... Okay. Okay, I can help." He'd done a few custom orders, but Pete would have to approve everything.

  The man held out his hand. "Barton Willis, the Third."

  "Kendall. Pleased." He held out his hand, then pulled it back. He was a grease monkey after all. "I've been working, man."

  "I imagine I can wash my hands."

  "Yeah, I tell myself that a lot, but the grime's pretty deep." He was not flirting. Not.

  "Nothing wrong with a dirty boy." Barton winked at him, hand grabbing his. The shake was warm, firm.

  Kendall shook, swallowing around the lump in his throat. Barton still held his hand when the shake was over.

  "I... Pete will have to write up your job, but I'll get on it in the morning."

  "Thank you. Maybe you can help me out. I need to find somewhere to eat before I take a cab home?"

  "Here? Oh, man. There's Joey's Pizza on the corner and a taco truck..." He frowned, shook his head. This guy was fancy from head to toe. "Really, you'll have to watch yourself here at night."

  "Dangerous neighborhood?"

  "A little, yeah." Especially for a dude in a suit.

  "How about a lift somewhere less dangerous, then?"

  Barton wasn't checking him out, was he?

  "Sure," Pete said. "Kendall can do that for you, man, and then pick you up when the 'Stang's done. Come into the office and let's get you written up." Pete talked around his stubby cigar.

  "That'll be great, thanks." Barton gave him a last look and followed Pete.

  Oh, damn. Kendall needed to clean out his truck. Wash his hands. Shut the bay door. Put the tools away... Not think about how those expensive slacks encased that gorgeous ass... Stop it. Guys like Kendall didn't hook up with... Hell, he couldn't even say guys like Barton Willis, the Third. Guys like him didn't hook up. Period.

  Barton came out of Pete's office, chuckling. The man's face was even better looking animated. He shook hands with Pete and turned, looking around. When Barton saw Kendall, he headed right toward him.

  Kendall put away a bunch of hand tools, then heard Pete's voice. "Son, take Mr. Willis home. I'll close up."

  "Yes, sir." He could handle that. Maybe. The wicked smile on Barton's face said maybe not. He was reading into that, right? "Excuse my truck. I'm sorta in it a lot."

  "Isn't that what it's for?"

  "Yeah, I guess." He led the dude to his old Ford, grabbing the pile of clean jeans from the front seat.

  "Are you...living in your truck?"

  "Huh?" Sorta, yeah, but just because his folks were the religious pray-the-gay-away type and crashing in the truck was easier.

  Barton didn't reply to that, simply climbed in. "So you'll let me take you out to dinner as a thank you for taking me home." The man raised his hands. "It's not charity, I promise."

  "Oh, I'm all in my work clothes and you don't look like the McDonald's type." Or the slumming type.

  "There's always delivery. And you can use my shower if you're worried about offending me with your clothes--you seem to have clean ones with you." Barton's gaze almost dared him to say no. "Still not charity--I want to have dinner with you."

  "I earn a paycheck. I... Where's your house?" He'd play along, then just drop the guy off.

  "Like I said, not charity. I've got a condo on Red Rose Crescent."

  Which was only in one of the ritziest neighborhoods. All up-and-coming newly renovated--excuse him, rejuvenated--homes, factories and warehouses. Spiffy.

  "I know where that is. How on earth did you pick Pete's?" They headed out, the traffic almost nonexistent.

  "I asked around. I needed someone who would love my baby like I do, not some upscale garage where they only care about making money."<
br />
  "Pete is a car lover, that's for sure. He's totally into it." That's why Kendall worked there, so that he could learn everything.

  Barton nodded, looking pleased. "That's what I was told."

  "It's a cherry ride. I bet she drives like a dream."

  "When the muffler's not shot, she sure does." Barton gave him a wink.

  "I bet. Did you decide on the Borlas or the catbacks in the end?"

  "The Borlas. I do like a nice rear view." God the words were suggestive the way Barton said them. Even more so now that it was just the two of them in the cab of his truck.

  "You said that. They're nice. Loud."

  "That'll get everyone turning their head, looking at my beauty."

  "That's the idea, isn't it?" Kendall stopped at a stoplight, his baby truck purring--he took good care of her.

  "Yep. It is. Makes me a bit of an arrogant jerk, doesn't it?"

  "Nah, it's what muscle car people do, that's all."

  Barton nodded. "It is. Besides, it's not arrogant jerkhood so much as confidence. Some people can't tell the difference."

  "I get that. Some folks just get all intimidated by stuff." Cars didn't intimidate him.

  "You don't strike me as the intimidatable sort."

  "Not really, no. I mean, who wants to intimidate me? I'm just a dude."

  Barton chuckled. "Have you looked in the mirror lately, Mr. Just A Dude?"

  "Huh? A mirror?" Kendall was confused.

  "Yep. You're a good-looking guy."

  "Uh, thanks." Stop it. No thinking sex things.

  "You're very welcome. It's right at the lights and then the first left. 422. On a nice quiet cul-de-sac."

  "This is a neat neighborhood." He watched the numbers, then carefully parked in front of a huge three-story place, deliberately not going into the drive with its two car garage.

  "Thanks. I'm the back half of this place. Means I get the yard with those two huge trees." Barton climbed out and looked at him expectantly.

  "I...I can't imagine what my filthy coveralls would do to the type of furniture these places have."

  "I was serious before--bring a change of clothes and avail yourself of my shower. We can even throw the overalls into the washer if you want." Barton didn't seem inclined to take no for an answer.

  "You invite strangers over a lot?" He chuckled, grabbed his jeans and a clean T-shirt, praying to God there was a clean pair of briefs in there.

  "Nope. Just you." Barton waited for him to lock up, then led him to a door around the side of the building where the garage was.

  "Are you an axe murderer?" Kendall figured he had to at least ask, right? Just to make sure this guy wasn't looking to murder him in his sleep.

  "Not that I've noticed. Your boss has all my details." Barton opened the door and turned to give him a warm smile. "What does your gut say about me?"

  "Oh, I never trust that." He chuckled, then winked, trying to play along. God, he needed a beer, some football, and a long nap.

  "No? I use mine a lot." Barton gestured him inside.

  If he was going to back out, it was now or never. He had to admit, he was curious. He wanted to know what was inside, what was up. Hell, what did he have to lose?

  Barton looked really pleased as he went ahead, going in.

  There was a hallway and a staircase immediately when he went in and it was in the direction of the staircase that Barton led him. "I'll show you the rest of the place later--the shower's up here. Not that I'm worried about the furniture, but you seemed concerned about cleaning up."

  "Oil gets everywhere." It was an occupational hazard.

  "Sometimes that's a good thing."

  They went up the second set of stairs as well, and the stairs opened up onto a huge room that took up the entire floor top floor. It was clearly the bedroom, a large bed in the middle of the room facing the floor-to-ceiling windows attesting to that. But there was also a huge, comfy-looking chair in front of a huge TV, lots of gaming equipment beneath it. And at the opposite end of the room was a window seat, complete with a dark blue cushion and a number of throw pillows in a lighter blue and white.

  "Shower's at the far end of the room." Barton pointed to the door on the other side of the room.

  "Thanks. I'll be quick as a bunny." He headed into the bathroom, staring at the huge thing. Everything was black and shiny, there were two toilets (why did anyone need two toilets?), and a shower deal that was bigger than Kendall's truck. Whoa.

  "Let me know if you need me to scrub your back."

  "I... What?" Kendall spun around, eyes wide. Oh, God. Please say that it wasn't obvious. Please say you couldn't tell.

  Barton chuckled, then his voice came again. "The towels are clean, feel free to use them when you're done."

  "Thanks." He shut the door and locked it, carefully stripping down so he didn't make a mess. He stepped into the shower, eyes wide at the sight of this rack with... Well, they looked like shiny dicks, all in a row, some little, some big. Some...huge. They all had the same bottom and it looked like it would fit right in the shower hose.

  No. He was not looking at them or imagining what the hell they were for. He was not. Shaking his head, he turned the water on. Scrubbing hard, he washed himself thoroughly, then pushed his dirty water down the drain, letting the water rinse the floor clean again. He didn't want to mess up this room.

  There were several showerheads, but only the big one had turned on when he'd turned on the taps. Still, it was like being in a rain shower. The urge to jack off was huge. Hell, maybe it would help. Maybe it would take the edge off. He thought he heard music playing somewhere, so Barton was doing something, not just waiting for him to be done, right?

  Kendall grabbed his cock, weighed it in his hand, and started pumping, fast and hard. Come on. Come on, just do it.

  The shelf behind him with all the dildos flashed through his mind. That helped. His prick swelled, and he jerked harder, his tongue caught between his teeth. What did that fine man do with those shining cocks? Why did he need so many? Why were they here?'

  Another thought flashed through his head, a picture of Barton in this amazing shower, one of those dildos in his hand. Oh, fuck. Fuck. Kendall could see them, moving through Barton's hand, the man's eyes gleaming at him. Barton would tell him to bend over with that amazing voice.

  Kendall shot, hips driving into his hand.

  There was a thumping on the door. "You okay in there?"

  "Uh. Uh-huh. S...sorry. I'll be right out." Oh, God.

  "Take your time--I just thought I heard you cry out."

  "N...no. No. Sorry." Oh, God.

  Oh, God.

  Oh, God.

  Chapter 2

  Bar went back to the window seat, settling in it and resting his head against the wall as he watched the sparrows fight over a branch. He wasn't really paying attention--most of his focus was on the man in his shower.

  God, Kendall was a stud. Bar wanted to bend him over and fuck him blind. Then he wanted to turn Kendall every which way but loose. He'd bet his left nut that Kendall was in there jacking off, and he wondered what the delicious man had thought of his little wet dildo collection.

  How would Kendall look, hole filled, water seeping into him? What a delicious punishment for a naughty boy. Bar groaned, palm rubbing his aching prick. Did he have time to jack off before Kendall was done with his shower? Did he care? He wanted that stacked little body kneeling in front of him, bound and needy, sucking his prick.

  Fuck it, he was doing this. He opened his slacks, grabbing his dick. He could fuck that hungry little mouth, push deep, make Kendall scream with pleasure. Groaning, he moved his hand faster.

  He could hear Kendall, moving around the bathroom, the water going off. He was pretty sure he wasn't going to be done before Kendall came out of the bathroom. That just made him ache, made him harder.

  It was three floors up--if Kendall ran when he saw Barton jacking off, Barton was pretty sure he could catch the man.


  He stroked faster, imagining Kendall watching, imaging Kendall begging to touch, to suck. Whip marks. Gags. His string of fat, metal beads disappearing into that tiny hungry hole. His balls drew up against his body at that last thought--he hadn't been this turned on in a long time.

  "Do you want the towels in the hamper?"

  With a muttered "Fuck," he came, spunk pouring up over his fingers.

  "Barton? Did you..." Kendall came across the room in a T-shirt and jeans, suddenly stopping short. "Oh."

  Barton didn't blush--there was nothing to be embarrassed about, though he relished the look on Kendall's face. "The hamper is fine." His voice was still thick from his orgasm.

  Kendall nodded and disappeared back into the bathroom, the door closing with a click. Barton pouted, a little disappointed that Kendall had run.

  It took about five minutes before Kendall dared to open the door again and peek out. Barton gave the man a smile. He was zipped up again, his hands cleaned on some tissue that he'd tossed into the discreet garbage can by the bed.

  "What kind of food do you like?" He wasn't letting Kendall go, but he was willing to back off long enough for them to get to know each other a little better and to fill their bellies.

  "I'm easy. I don't... I know you're busy."

  "Am I?" He wasn't really. He had the evening to himself.

  "I'm sure." Kendall looked like he wished he could just disappear.

  He shook his head. "I'm not, but if I am, it's with you." Getting up, he went to Kendall, touched the man's shoulder. "Relax. What happens here, stays here. Just like Vegas."

  "I...I didn't mean to interrupt you earlier."

  "I didn't mind, Ken. Hell, you could have joined me, giving me a hand." He winked, letting Ken keep it light if that's what the man needed.

  "Give you a... Oh. No. No, I'm not. I couldn't. I don't. I'm... Oh."

  He put his hand back on Kendall's shoulder, squeezed. "Hey, it's okay. You are gay, though, right?" His gut had never steered him wrong before.

  Ken stared at him, eyes wide. "I have to go. I have to."