Page 15 of Wood

I wince.

“You didn’t have anyone to teach you. I will.” I pause. “If you’ll let me, that is.”

He stares into my eyes and a slow smile pulls up the corners of his pretty mouth. “Ok, Ben.”

Hell, I want to kiss him.

Satisfied with a rough plan, I pass my phone to him. Carbs, proteins, and fats for days we play, recovery days, and in between. “How’s it look?” I ask.

He studies it intently, then glances up at me. “This is…fascinating.”

I outline my daily regimen for him, what I eat to achieve each goal, and he nods. “Send that to yourself,” I instruct. “When we get back to the room, let’s plan what you will eat for Thursday’s breakfast buffet so you hit those carb targets in the morning and plan for snacks on the course. There will be plenty of options for us: fruit, PB&J, nuts, granola, etc. If you know ahead of time what to grab, you won’t gas out and won’t lose weight. Tomorrow is a recovery day from our round today. But also loading for Thursday. On a pure recovery day, you’d decrease carbs, increase protein and healthy fat. Tomorrow, though, load up on carbs at dinner. You’ll need it for Thursday.”

He is nodding as I speak, and I let my voice trail off. His phone chimes somewhere in his pockets as he hands mine back. Our fingers brush in the handoff, and that fucking tingle almost makes me drop the phone. Keep it together, Ben.

“You are on your own tomorrow afternoon and evening,” I remind him. My afternoon is a gauntlet of PR - more interviews, photo shoots, sponsors, fan meetups, and the like. Geoff is pretty much a free agent after we go over the morning weather forecast and review his notes from today. I had my clubs serviced before we came so I can skip the equipment trailer. “If you want the car, that’s fine. Or you can rideshare, but don’t drink too much. No hangovers allowed.”

“Voice of experience?” he smirks in a low voice.

I huff a laugh, then grimace. “I need you up before dawn on Thursday to walk the course and see where they’ve put the pins, read the greens, so make it an early night,” I tell him as the waiter brings the bill and I hold out my phone to pay.

“You got it,” he replies.

I grunt with stiffness as I rise from my chair. “Make sure you eat before going out to walk the course on Thursday. When we get back to Denver, we can devise a steady meal and workout plan, get you ripped. But we need some rest tonight,” I mutter. I see eyes following us out, and I look forward to a quiet evening in our suite. I resist the urge to settle my palm on his lower back as we walk to the rental. Force myself to let him open his own door.

The drive back to the hotel is quiet, classic rock playing on low, and I tap my fingers on the steering wheel in time with the beat. Keep them on the fucking steering wheel, Ben. Do not reach over and stroke the muscular forearm on the center console within inches of my own. The heat of his body has scented the car with his soap, and I can’t help but sniff.

“Old Spice?” I ask.

He blushes and nods. “Reminds me of Dad. Mom and I always gave him some for Christmas.”

Does this young man understand what he is doing to me with his longing for his father? Wanting someone who took care of him? Hell, I suddenly want a Boy? All of my protestations to Freddie mock me. The fact that Geoff is here, traveling with me, and I am already teaching him, and he is eating it up. Patience is easy with him. I love seeing those blue eyes light up, those luscious lips curve in a smile, the blush of pleasure when I tell him he has done well.

Dammit.

12

GEOFF

The clubhouse is full of people and I need to get some air. Between sponsors, fans, players, staff, vendors, photographers… it is a lot and I retreat to our suite.

I contemplate just ordering room service and binging Family Guy or Peaky Blinders, but I am restless. I jerked off in the shower this morning but a low level craving has built that my own hand can’t satisfy. My mind put Ben in the shower with me, behind me, his hard chest against my back, his hand on my cock, his fingers rolling my nipple. What would his cock feel like sliding between my ass cheeks? Or even inside me?

I watched some gay porn and, hell, I want it. One guy begged his lover to hit his P-spot which sent me down a rabbit hole of internet searches and then sticking my fingers inside myself trying to find it and holy fuck, I need that in my life.

This gay dating app I downloaded beckons. I have narrowed my search down to older men in the next town. If I am going to try this, I want someone who knows what they are up to. I ignore the fact that the three guys I am considering are all similar to Ben. Taller than me, fit, in their forties, salt and pepper beard and hair. Nope, not gonna think about that.

True to his word, Ben has never crossed the line with me. Even when I stood there, naked and getting hard, he didn’t move in. Hasn’t touched me except pats on my clothed shoulders. Maybe he just isn’t into me. That he went out rather than approach me tells me maybe I am too young for him. Maybe he likes experienced guys. Or he wants guys who are slim and feminine, twinks, with pretty eyeliner and earrings, lip rings, and cute hair. Hell, I am almost as tall as Ben and bigger. Maybe he doesn’t like that. I’m not all tatted up, just Mom and Dad’s tat. Does he go for the bad biker look, tats and muscles? Or maybe it is just me? He isn’t into me?

Fine, I will get off with another guy, then. This guy, Michael. Six-two, two-ten, forty-five, looks like a banker with his white pinpoint cotton sleeves rolled up to show off his forearms. Neat salt and pepper beard, thick silver hair. Lives twenty minutes away, and Ben left me the rental car keys. Yeah, that’ll do.

Kink: “Making you feel so good.”

Yeah. That.

The black painted front door of the typical colonial white house opens before I even knock, and Michael gestures me in. His black t-shirt and gray sweats are sexy as fuck. His shirt is stretched over generous shoulders and sweats hang low on narrow hips. I feel no small relief that his pictures were not fake.

The room is clean and pretty, like a decorator designed it. He leads me through an opening where a wall used to be. Two glasses of water already wait on a low side table, moisture beading on the sides.