Windows

By J.M. Snyder

Thom is down on love, having walked in on his lover with "a friend" and caught them doing the nasty. After he kicks said lover out, he writes off men for good. Then Bradley moves in next door, so flaming he’s practically on fire, and Thom can’t help but notice. Especially when Bradley seems to be quite the exhibitionist, having sex with his boyfriend in front of the bedroom windows, and getting frisky with another guy out back in his pool.

Suddenly Thom finds himself in the precarious position of voyeur, and he knows Bradley knows he’s watching. He even suspects Bradley might be deliberately flaunting his sexuality for Thom’s benefit. He doesn’t need another cheating lover, but how long can he resist Bradley’s advances?

• Language: English
• Publisher: JMS Books LLC
• Release date: Jul 19, 2010
• ISBN: 9781935753476

J.M. Snyder

An author of gay erotic romance, J.M. Snyder began self-publishing gay erotic fiction in 2002. Since then, Snyder has worked with several e-publishers, most notably Amber Allure Press and eXcessica Publishing.Snyder’s short fiction has appeared online at Ruthie’s Club, Tit-Elation, Eros Monthly, and Amazon Shorts, as well as in anthologies released by Alyson Books, Cleis Press, and others.For more book excerpts, free fiction, and purchasing information, please visit http://jmsnyder.net.

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Windows

By J.M. Snyder

Published by JMS Books LLC

Visit jms-books.com for more information.

Copyright 2010 J.M. Snyder

ISBN 9781935753476

Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

All rights reserved.

WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

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.

This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published in the United States of America.

* * * *

Windows

By J.M. Snyder

There’s a U-Haul truck parked in front of the house next door when I step out on my porch to check the mail. I hear the back roll up, boyish laughter, a man’s voice saying something low and unintelligible, more laughter, another man giggling, Rudy, stop it.

Kids, I think as I pull the few bills and mail-order catalogues from my mailbox. They shouldn’t sell homes to the college students—they turn the places into party houses, people crawling all over the yard, cars up and down the block. That’s the last thing this neighborhood needs, you know? And why’d it have to be the house next to mine?

From inside the truck, I hear the scrape of heavy furniture, something dropped, a gasp and the same guy calling out, Watch it! That’s authentic. Rudy, honey…no, wait—

A loud crash and I stop, interested in spite of myself. The guy has one of those voices that you hear and just know he’s into boys, it’s painfully clear. A little queeny, with that slight lisp the comedians always make fun of in gay jokes. Leaning against the railing, I flip through my mail half-heartedly and wait to catch a glimpse of this kid and the Rudy he’s now bitching out for dropping the vase. He actually says vaaz, making me smile. Maybe a new neighbor won’t be so bad after all.

When he finally steps into view, I have to catch my breath. Damn. I know I’m staring, but just…damn. Short dark hair, real short, cut close to his head with bleached bangs combed down flat in a monk’s cut. No shirt to hide his thick, tanned arms or his broad chest, which is smooth and muscled. Swim trunks, tanned legs, strong thighs—I’d swear the May heat just went up another ten degrees. No shoes, that’s cute. I like the way his shorts hang a little low on his hips. They pull down farther when someone inside the truck throws a ring of keys at him and it falls through his hands so he bends over to pick it up. No tan lines, I’m impressed.

The boy screams summer. I stare at him and think of beaches and Frisbees and surfing, boardwalks, those red-and-white striped changing tents that are synonymous with the Beach Boys and the sixties. "You didn’t have to throw them, Rudy," the guy says with a pout.

God! He even crosses his arms in front of his chest and glares at the truck like a little kid, pulling off the wounded diva stance perfectly. I want to call out to him myself, apologize for Rudy’s behavior, tell him to come on over here and I’ll kiss that pout away myself.

Careful, Thom, a voice inside my head whispers, sobering me up. The smile dissolves from my face and my hands tighten around the mail unconsciously. You don’t need to be getting involved with anyone right now, least of all the new guy next door. Remember John?

Ah yes, my lover of seven months—how could I forget him? It’s been three weeks since I came home early from the plant and found him in the living room with Sean, the friend he swore was nothing to worry about, ‘the friend’ he told me I was silly to be jealous of. I can close my eyes and still see the surprise written all over his face as I walked in on them, both naked, sweaty, John on his hands and knees on the floor and Sean plowing into him from behind. I can still hear John’s gasp, his Thom, I can explain, my own strangled voice unrecognizable as I told him to get out. Three weeks. It feels like just yesterday.

No, the last thing I need is to fall for someone new. Still, I linger a moment, curious about this Rudy—I can hear his deep laugh as he jumps out of the truck, and the boy in the yard pouts harder, if that’s even possible. I’m not sure what