Safety Net (44 page)

Jackson came over to him, meeting
his gaze, and said quietly, “Lowell, I’m about to do something and if you don’t
like it, that’s fine, but don’t overreact.”

Lowell twitched an eyebrow but didn’t
say anything. Jackson came closer and opened Lowell’s jacket, then slowly, his
eyes watching Lowell’s face the whole time, he unbuttoned Lowell’s shirt and
untucked it. He pushed the shirt open and ran his hands over Lowell’s chest.

“Nice. Very nice,” he murmured
appreciatively.

His touch had sent Lowell’s skin
into a hot, skittery overload. His blood rushed to his balls.

Lowell swallowed and said, “You’re
not so bad yourself.”

Jackson raised an eyebrow and
smiled. “Thank you. May I continue?”

Lowell matched his smile. “Yeah.”

Jackson licked his lips. “Oh, good.
Let’s see what we have here.” He unfastened Lowell’s trousers with a careful
touch and gave them a push so they slid off Lowell’s hips and down his legs. In
his underwear, Lowell’s cock stiffened.

“Very nice,” Jackson said again,
checking him out.

“May I?” Lowell asked, slightly
imitating.

“Be my guest.”

Lowell unbuttoned Jackson’s shirt
and admired his strong, muscular chest. He unclasped Jackson’s belt and undid
his trousers, exposing his undershorts. Jackson was also hard.

“I guess you like it,” Jackson
said.

“Yeah, I do.”

Jackson looked him in the eyes and
said seriously, “How much do you like?”

Lowell cleared his throat. “I like
everything.”

“Everything,” Jackson repeated, his
voice low and rough with lust.

“How much do you want to do?”

“With you?” Jackson said, his
admiring gaze sweeping over Lowell’s body. “As much as possible.”

Lowell reached to take his shoes
and socks off, stepping out of his trousers. He took his underwear off, let
Jackson see how hard he was. “Do you wanna fuck me?” he asked, almost dizzy
from pure sexual want.

Jackson pushed his undershorts off,
and his cock was full and erect. “Oh, yes.”

Lowell took his jacket and shirt
off. Jackson stripped and stepped into the bathroom, unzipping a shaving bag.

Lowell paused by the doorway and
said, “Um. Do you have condoms? ‘Cause, uh...”

Jackson held up a condom packet. “Not
a problem.”

When they got to the bed, Jackson
pulled the covers down and, standing behind Lowell, running his hands down
Lowell’s back, he urged him onto the mattress. He worked Lowell, getting him
ready, until Lowell bucked impatiently.

It was damn good. Fantastic.
Jackson held his hips and thrust into him and fucked him steadily, in an
incredible rhythm, and Lowell pushed back and circled his hips and clawed at
the pillows and sheets. It felt so damn good to get fucked again.

Jackson took his time, making
appreciative noises in his throat, finally saying, “Oh my lord, you are so
sweet right now,” and tightening his grip on Lowell’s hips and thrusting
faster. The harder rhythm made Lowell’s whole body pulse. He grabbed his cock
and beat off while Jackson pounded into him, and they came.

After taking a quick shower, Lowell
stood uncertainly in the entryway and said, “Should I leave?”

Jackson was in bed, lying under a thin
sheet. “Do you have to get back to your hotel?”

“No. My flight doesn’t leave
tomorrow until...” Lowell stopped to dig his phone out of his jacket and check
his schedule. “We won’t leave for the airport until eight.”

Jackson clasped his hands behind
his head. “My flight’s at nine, I’ll have to leave here around seven.” He
paused. “I’d like it if you stayed.”

Lowell smiled. “I’d like it, too.”

He got into bed next to Jackson,
who was checking something on his phone. Lowell settled on his side, facing
him, and Jackson set his phone aside. He slid down and faced Lowell and reached
to caress Lowell’s hair away from his face.

“You,” he said in a low voice,
smiling, “are one pretty white boy.”

Lowell grinned, embarrassed. “And
you’re, um. Hot.”

Jackson laughed a little. “Hot’s
good. I like that.” His fingers danced over Lowell’s hair. “Can I kiss you?
That okay with you?”

“Yeah, that’s okay,” Lowell said,
though he was slightly uneasy.

Jackson kissed him, slow and soft,
and it was not at all like Erick’s kisses. When he drew back, he watched Lowell
for a moment, then frowned a little. “You know, this is gonna sound ridiculous,
but you look familiar. When I first saw you in the bar, you looked familiar. I
almost had it there but then I got so distracted by how pretty you are.”

Lowell waited, saying nothing,
while Jackson stared at him, thinking. Then Jackson’s face changed and he said,
“Oh, wait a minute. Portland... Sporting industry? Holy fucking shit.” He
smiled incredulously. “You’re Lowell Menacker from the Portland Knights.”

Lowell winced. “Guilty as charged.”

Jackson laughed. “I don’t fucking
believe this. ‘In Cleveland for work’... Uh huh. This blows my mind.” He paused,
grinning. “Oh my lord. This pretty white boy I just had the sweetest fuck with
plays for the Portland Knights. This is, like. Un-fucking-believable.”

Lowell chuckled at his amazement. “I
didn’t know you were that much of a football fan.”

“I watched the game earlier,” said
Jackson. “I saw your touchdown. It was in my mind. I’ve watched some Portland
Knights games. When you play Houston, of course. Houston’s my team. Sorry.”

Lowell smiled. “Nah, that’s okay.
Support your locals.”

Jackson looked him over. “Mm, mm,
mm. You’re prettier in person.”

Lowell blushed. “Yeah, well, when I
play there’s the helmet and all. I’m surprised you could even tell it was me.”

“That’s HD for you, baby. HD. And
they showed you on the sidelines.”

“So, um, look...” Lowell chewed on
his lip. “I don’t wanna say something really bad here, but the thing is,
because of my job and all--”

“Oh, you don’t have to say it,” Jackson
stopped him, holding up one hand. “I’m not gonna tell anyone. Listen. You think
a black gay sales rep from Houston can’t keep secrets? My lips are sealed.”

“Thanks.” Lowell relaxed in relief.

Jackson said slowly, “Must be hard,
though. It’s not like there’s any out players in the NFL.”

Lowell had never thought about it
in terms of being “out.” It always had to remain a secret for Erick’s sake more
than his.

“Well, no. Um, this may sound like
a crock-of-shit excuse, but the truth is I’m bi. I like women, too.”

Jackson looked faintly skeptical. “Oh,
okay.”

Lowell wasn’t sure why he felt the
need to convince him. “I was married,” he said emphatically. As if that proved
anything.

Jackson arched an eyebrow. “
Was
married?”

“Yeah,” Lowell sighed, conceding. “I
got divorced a couple of months ago.”

“And that had nothing to do with
the fact that you love getting your ass fucked?” Jackson murmured, sliding his
hand over Lowell’s hip and rubbing his ass.

Lowell laughed softly. “Mm, well,
it might have had something to do with it. But the main reason was because I
couldn’t stand her personality. There are better women out there.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Jackson
said. He reached back to switch off the light. “There must be some gay players
in the NFL, though,” he mused. “Law of averages, man.”

“There probably are,” Lowell said. “But
it’s practically impossible to know. Anyone who wants to keep playing has to
keep it on the down-low.”

“No behind-the-scenes gossip?” Jackson
asked, disappointed. “Damn. That’s too bad. From your team? Gotta say, I like
Tobias Jennings. That brother is
fine
. The ass on him? Mm-mm.”

“Dude,” Lowell grinned. “Jennings
is married with kids. I’m pretty certain about this one.”

“It’s too bad,” Jackson sighed.

They drifted into sleep and Lowell
slept soundly until five, when the alarm went off. Jackson switched the alarm
off and turned the light on and sat up in bed, stretching his back and arms.
Lowell rubbed his face and watched him.

“You have to leave at seven?” he
asked.

Jackson looked at him. “Yes.”

Lowell licked his lips. “You wanna
fuck me again?”

“Oh, yes.”

And Jackson fucked him again from
the back, not as slow this time but just as fantastic. Then they both got up,
showering and dressing. Jackson kissed him again, very softly.

Lowell stood in the entryway while
Jackson packed his suitcase. “Hey, listen, if you ever come to Portland on
business... Why don’t I give you my number? You could call. I can get you
tickets to the game if it’s during the season.”

Jackson smiled at him and took out
his phone. “Next time you come to Houston, get in touch,” Jackson said. “Portland’s
not part of my rep area, but you never know. I could be out there for something
else.”

They exchanged numbers.

-----

Portland lost to Denver and didn’t
make it to the playoffs, so Lowell’s season ended just after the new year. A
few days after the last game, Jackson called to say he’d be in Portland the
weekend after next; he was filling in for his company’s West Coast rep.

Jackson came over to Lowell’s place
on Friday afternoon after wrapping up a meeting with a client. Lowell let him
in, introduced him to Bean, who was very interested in Jackson’s shoes, and
took his coat and laptop case while Jackson looked around.

“So this is an NFL player’s
apartment,” Jackson commented. “Not to be cruel or anything, but really? This
is it? My place is better than this.”

Lowell glanced around. It wasn’t a
bad place but very bland. It came furnished and everything was shades of beige
and white. The only things he liked about it were the giant brown leather sofa
and the flatscreen TVs mounted in the living room and bedroom.

“The price was right,” Lowell said
with a shrug. “Why? What were you expecting?”

Jackson looked him over. “From you?
Hmm. A man cave with a bit more color and style.”

Lowell came up to him. “I guess it’s
not very cavelike, is it?”

Jackson unbuttoned Lowell’s shirt. “Not
much.” He stripped Lowell out of his shirt and jeans, and Lowell took him to
the bedroom. Jackson fucked him, a damn good slow fuck, and Lowell dozed
afterwards until Bean came in, wanting to be walked.

At the dog park, Lowell and Bean
played while Jackson sat on a bench and watched them and checked his phone for
messages. The sun was setting when they left, and Jackson huddled in his coat. “I
hate the cold.”

Lowell was reminded of Erick,
another Texan. He wondered how Erick was adapting to New England winters.

After dropping Bean off at the
apartment, they went for dinner at a nice seafood place Jackson’s client had
recommended. Lowell was nervous about being recognized -- unwanted attention --
but the patrons didn’t seem to be a very sporty crowd. It was a nice dinner,
and when it was over Lowell asked, “Do you want to stay at my place tonight?”

Jackson smiled. “I would like that,
very much.”

“How long are you in Portland for?”

“I’ll drive up to Seattle on
Sunday. I’ve got a friend up there I wanna see, and my Seattle meeting is on
Monday morning. Tomorrow I’ve got to meet a client in the afternoon but the
rest of the day is open.”

“Nice schedule,” Lowell commented.

“Yeah, and what’s your work
schedule like this week?” Jackson asked archly.

“Harsh, dude. Harsh.”

Back at the apartment, naked in
bed, Lowell spread out on his stomach and Jackson straddled his thighs and
massaged his shoulders and back. Worked his way to Lowell’s ass, which he
squeezed and rubbed.

“Mm-mmm,” Jackson said. “You are so
fine. I was really looking forward to this.” He paused, squeezing again, and
laughed a little. “I switched with our West Coast rep when I saw Portland was
on the schedule. It worked out well. My next leg was in Florida, and he wanted
to take his family to Orlando. Win-win.”

Lowell was in a contented state of
relaxation and languid horniness. He rubbed his cheek against the pillow. “Glad
it could work out.”

Jackson leaned forward to massage
his shoulders again. His hard-on pressed against Lowell’s ass. “So am I. How’re
you doing? You ready for some fun or you wanna rest some more?”

Lowell glanced back at him and
smiled. “Fun’s good.”

Jackson grinned and sat back. He
picked up the lube. “Oh, yeah. I thought so. You are so delicious, man.” Lowell
raised his hips and arched back as Jackson worked him. Jackson continued with a
chuckle, “I got this friend back home. Troy. He was all like, why you goin’ to
Portland, what’s so special in Portland? I told him, I said I got this sweet,
sweet pretty white boy I’m gonna see. Got a sweet, sweet ass. Mister Jackson
already looking forward to it.”

Lowell quirked an eyebrow. “‘Mister
Jackson’? Seriously, dude?”

Jackson skimmed his fingers down
his cock. “Say hello to the mister.” He paused to put on a condom then pushed
his fingers inside again, working him more. Lowell grunted, and Jackson said, “Troy
gave me this bitch speech about why get so crazy about white ass? He was
saying, like, white cat’s gonna be so uptight and cold. Ah, he doesn’t know how
nice this is.”

Jackson paused again, his fingers
stopped moving. “Maybe it’s just the cats I sleep with -- maybe I got an eye
for the loud ones. It can get a little...theatrical. ‘Oh, Jackson, you fuck me
so good,’” he imitated. “‘Oh, Jackson, baby, you take me to heaven, baby, you
make me see stars.’” Jackson’s fingers resumed and Lowell rocked back.

“Stars?” Lowell grinned.

“You don’t even know.” Jackson
slipped his fingers out and rubbed Lowell’s ass appreciatively. “But, man, I’m
telling you. It can get a little loud. Distracting, y’know? I’m trying to do my
thing and the cats will not shut up. Like it’s so sexy. Yeah, it was sexy for
about half a minute, maybe.”