August 2010

It was so dark and the waves near the shore were so choppy that Tab had difficulty seeing the little beach on the ocean side of the Lower Head lighthouse, and he almost was at the entrance into the Shernhaven harbor before he got his bearings. He brought the motorboat he'd borrowed from Keith Dodson in to land as close as he dared, dropped the anchor, and slipped over the side of the boat and into the water with his bag of tools hung around his neck.

It was a tiring swim to the little beach below the lighthouse. This was not the sort of exercise Tab was used to. Once there, he rested for a few minutes, took the sneakers out of his bag and put them on, and then carefully worked his way up a steep trail to the top of the head. The path through the rocks had been created by generations of teenagers who kept it discernible by climbing down to the beach at night from the lighthouse to swim, party, and fuck. He'd been lucky none were here now. If he'd seen evidence of a party from the motorboat, he would have had to come back another night. And he was anxious to get this over with.

At the top of the trail, he crouched down in the oat grass and scanned his eyes across the lighthouse compound and then back. A light was on in a second-story window of the lighthouse keeper's cottage that was attached to the base of the lighthouse.

Tab settled down and waited for the light to go out. When it did, he waited another half hour for the lighthouse keeper to have gone to sleep. Then he stole out across the deeply grassed field between the lighthouse base and the cliff verge. This was one of the most dangerous moments, when he was out in the open, the diffused light from the revolving beam at the top of the lighthouse giving an eerie glow to the ground below. The pounding in his ears wasn't only coming from the ocean surf at the base of the cliff.

When he'd made it to the lighthouse door, he quickly used the skeleton key he had that was a master to all of the lighthouses up and down the Massachusetts coast. He had to be quick at this, because if someone had been standing at the window where the light had been on, Tab could clearly be seen at the lighthouse door.

Once inside, he flicked on his flashlight and moved as quickly as he could up the stairs, through the seven stories of circular rooms to the top, where he had to go out on the iron balcony circling the light at its base. Another key got him into the compartment that held the electronics for the light. Tab knew exactly what to do to disarm the light—not immediately, but within a couple of days—so that it would look like normal wear and tear on the components that couldn't be easily fixed by the lighthouse keeper himself—and also so that Tab could maneuver into the position he wanted to be in.

After he'd disarmed the light, sinking the compound into darkness, Tab silently made his way back down the lighthouse staircase and out the door, which he closed and locked from outside so that there was no sign of forced entry—which there hadn't been. Tab had had a key. Then he worked his way back across the tall-grass field and descended the face of the cliff, more slowly than he had come up it, as the night now was pitch black.

As he putted the motorboat back to the marina in Duxbury, keeping the sound of the motor as quiet as possible, Tab contemplated how and when he would make good on his promise of a good fucking for Dodson in exchange for the use of his boat—and for his silence that Tab had borrowed it.

* * * *

"So, you're really going to be moving on?"

"Yes, I don't know when, but maybe soon," Tab answered Ben. "You don't mind, really, do you? You're spending most of your free time with Clem now anyway."

"Do you mind about that?" Ben asked. He and Tab were both sitting on the deck of the seaside cottage, eating their lunches out of fast-food restaurant sacks, on their lunch breaks from their separate jobs. Tab was right. These lunches where they'd both had the urge to eat at home rather than on the job were the largest blocks of time of seeing each other in the past couple of weeks. Ben had fallen head over heels for his sweet little guy. Clem responded to Ben's fucking as if each was the first time anyone had debauched him, and Ben found that a real turn on. And as far as he could figure out, Clem was the first lover he'd picked out for himself. Tab hadn't counted. Tab had picked Ben out after Trevor Cole had sent him after Tab. Everyone else in his life had either begged him for it—because he was one of the Semple studs with muscles and a big, black cock—or had demanded it from him, as by right.

"No, of course not. We've discussed this before. I'm glad you found him." Tab smiled when he used the word "found," but he was careful to turn away from Ben. Found him in a rat's eye. Tab had found Clem and put the two together. He'd fucked Clem himself before he'd introduced him to Ben and found him quite the tease and delight. Quite a good little actor that, Clem was. A talent for making the other think he was the first, the only, and the best. But Tab didn't think it was all acting when it came to Ben. Clem had acknowledged to Tab that he melted for big, black cock, and thus far it did appear that he had melted for Ben.

But Ben had been Tab's chief concern. He had figured that Clem would be the exotic little tail that would be just right for Ben—a great actor and able to make Ben marvel each time he was able to get his entire cock stuffed in that seemingly small hole—and Tab had proved to be right. Clem was just the consolation Ben needed for Tab to move on. Tab didn't want Ben to get hurt. In all of this, he didn't want Ben to come out a loser. And Tab hadn't been lying when he said he thought Ben needed to be clear of Shernhaven and Trevor Cole. Although he'd used Ben, Tab didn't regret what he'd done. At the same time, he wanted this element of what he was doing to be fixed right.

"Clem wants us to live together. I'll need to be looking for another place."

"I don't see why," Tab answered. "As long as you're willing to give Keith Dodson a fuck every once in a while, I don't see why you don't just take over here. Have Clem move in here with you. It isn't much of a drive to that hair salon where he works. I think you should continue to fuck other men, though. I think that will keep Clem in line. He's so highly strung, I think you'd do well to keep him in his place. When he gets snotty, just deny him the cock. He'll come crawling back for it. I've watched him. He can't get enough of you."

"Thanks. Maybe I'll take you up on that. Guess that means you really are serious about moving on."

"Yep."

"You've been hooking up with that fisherman, Wal Fischer. You going to just up and leave him too?"

"I like him. I'll probably keep in touch."

"That would be good. I've always liked him too. He got a raw deal back in Shernhaven a long time ago. A lot of us felt bad about that. I'd hate to see him get hurt again."

"I sensed that when we first met—that he'd been hurt before. I've been working on helping him get past that. I won't just fuck him and walk out on him."

"That's good to hear. And Keith Dodson. Have you told him yet that you're pulling up stakes? You work for him. He relies on you more than just for a fuck when he can get away."

"I don't feel much responsibility for Dodson. He's getting what he wants through deceit of those who have committed to him. And, no, I haven't told him I'll be quitting. I'll either tell him when I'm ready to leave or you can tell him later. He won't get angry with you if you've got your cock inside him when you tell him and if you tell him I didn't give you any warning either. I'm looking for one more special job and then I can cut out of there."

"One more special job?"

"Yeah. There's something special I'd like to fix. Just waiting for the call."

"Is that why you've been glued to the office the last couple of days and calling in every hour to ask what they've got going?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"You are quite a fix-it man, aren't you? You've got something up your sleeve."

"I've got something up my pants too that could use a little attention. I got thirty more minutes before I need to be back. How about you?"

"I think I can manage that," Ben said as he heaved himself out of the Adirondack chair he was sitting in and opened the screen door to the cottage's kitchen.

"We'll see from your screaming how well you manage what I've got for you up my pants," Tab answered with a laugh, as he too unfolded from a deck chair and turned toward the house.

Tab got back to his office just in time to be there when the call came in.

"It's the keeper at the Lower Head lighthouse," the dispatcher, Cindy, called out to Keith Dodson, sitting in his office and dreamily watching Tab standing at the dispatcher's counter and leaning on it with both elbows. "The light's out for some reason. He says he needs someone out there today to try to get it fixed before dusk."

"I'll take that job," Tab called out to Keith. "I've always wanted to see what those old lighthouses were like."

He smiled to himself as he walked out to his truck. It had worked like a charm. When he had told Ben weeks earlier that landing his job with this heating, air conditioning, and lighting firm had been a bonanza, he hadn't really been talking about getting a cottage beside the water with the deal. What he'd been talking about was finding out that the company had the government contract for electronics maintenance of all of the lighthouses up and down the coast of Massachusetts.

Tab had come to Duxbury for one reason but had found that he had help here to work on the next problem after the one in Duxbury was in hand. He'd known before he got to Duxbury that the next stop would be the Lower Head lighthouse.

* * * *

"It's the light. It doesn't work. I looked in the electronics box, but I can't see anything wrong."

"Let's have a look at it then," Tab said, giving the lighthouse keeper a winning smile. The man was rather short with dark hair—a sensual, brooding aspect altogether. He was a good six or seven years older than Tab was, maybe mid thirties. And he had kept himself in good shape. He was relatively small compared to Tab, however—but everything was in perfect proportion.

It was so desolate up here on the Lower Head, the lighthouse compound providing the only structures on the whole ridge arcing out around the Shernhaven harbor, Tab surmised, that working out was probably his main activity. There wasn't much to do at a lighthouse as long as everything was working right. Whatever the case, the guy had kept himself in top-notch condition.

Having the light break down was about the only reason to have anyone else coming up here.

"Why don't you come on up with me? I know I can hardly miss finding it as long as I go up, but I might need some help—and I'd appreciate the company."

Tab looked at the other man hard. The guy was eyeing Tab almost hungrily, trying to hide it, but Tab was a pro at this. He could always tell when a man was interested. He'd worn a tight T-shirt and tight shorts with no underwear—and construction boots. He knew he looked good. He knew that the material was pulled tightly across his butt. And he knew that the line of his cock could be seen inside his trousers from where the man was standing.

He chatted amicably with the man as they walked up the seven flights, Tab making sure he got ahead of the other guy so that his nose would practically be in Tab's butt crack as they went up the narrow, steep stairs. Tab asked him a few things about the lighthouse and what was in the circular rooms they went through and what the equipment lying around did, but he was careful to keep the conversation shallow and not to chatter too much. He knew the guy would not be having much outside contact. All Tab wanted to do was to establish a comfort level—and to start weaving an atmosphere of sensuality with his voice. He knew he was good at that. He wanted to sell himself—his body.

"Here. I think I see what your problem is," Tab said as they were standing, close together, looking into the electronics box just under the light. "Come look in here so you can see the unit I'm talking about."

The man came in close and Tab laid a hand on his shoulder, knowing that it would cause the man to shudder—which it did.

"I tell you what. I'll talk you through taking that unit out, and then we'll replace it with another one. I've got one here in my bag. If it's what went wrong, you'll then know what to take out and how to get a replacement in. I can leave another unit—I have more in the truck—and then the next time it goes out, you can try fixing it yourself before needing to call us in."

"OK. In like this? That doohickey back there?"

They were standing rubbing up against each other, both trying to be directly in front of the opening of the electronics box. The man's voice had been low, hoarse, clogged with what Tab knew was arousal. Tab's hand had dropped to the small of the man's back, right above his rump. Tab could sense the man's buttocks twitching, wanting Tab's hand to move down. The man was fighting against his instincts—just as Tab had planned.

"There. That isn't hard, is it?" Tab said, pulling away and giving the man a big smile. "I'll get another unit from the truck when we get downstairs. I'll have to stick around for a couple of hours, though. We'll need to put the light through its paces to ensure that it's been fixed. I'll sit out in the truck."

"Uh. No, you don't need to do that. Come on into the cottage and I'll fix us a couple of beers. You can drink while you're on the clock, can't you? There's no one else up here on the head to object—or even to know you did it."

"Ummm, that's right neighborly of you. I'll have to change shirts while I'm at the truck, though. I got grease on this one—and on my hands. I wouldn't want to be trucking that into your house."

Tab stood at the driver's door of the truck and slowly peeled the T-shirt over his head. He made quite a display of doing that—and of flexing the muscles that appeared from underneath it. It wasn't the muscle flexing that would do the trick, though, he didn't think. For the last couple of nights, he'd been beating himself—his back and his chest—with a small horse whip. Just enough to show welts. This is what Tab was counting on to push this guy over the edge.

He was displaying himself on purpose. He languidly wiped the grease from his hands onto the T-shirt. He pulled another T from in back of the driver's seat, but he didn't pull it on. When he turned toward the doorway of the cottage, where he knew the man had been standing, taking it all in, he only was wearing the shorts and the construction boots. The shorts barely tickled his hips, showing the line of his flat belly and curve below the plate of his abs. It also dipped enough in front to show the curling of the upper reaches of his pubic hair.

The other man's facial expression showed that he was steaming hot—and it wasn't from the temperature. Tab's efforts of being close to him at the top of the lighthouse hadn't only worked on the man either. Tab was half hard, which could clearly be seen through the tight material of his shorts.

He walked slowly toward the cottage door and tucked the T-shirt in the waistband of the shorts to one side.

The first floor of the cottage was essentially one room, with a counter dividing the kitchen area from the living and dining areas. The man motioned Tab to sit at the dining table while he went to the refrigerator in the kitchen for the beers, but Tab perched on a bar stool at the counter instead.

The man turned and handed a beer to Tab over the counter and then came around the counter and sat at the dining table. Tab swiveled back on the stool, his legs spread, and his elbows back on the counter. His muscles were stretched and there was a line of hard, naked flesh from his throat down to an inch of pubic hair below his belly. The crotch of his shorts were as tented out as the tight material would permit.

"You live alone up here?"

"Yes."

"How long?"

"Almost four years now."

"It must be lonely up here. Do you get down into Shernhaven much?"

"I like the solitude. That's why I'm up here. To forget. And, no, when I come down off the head for provisions, I go into Beechwood, not Shernhaven."

"Shernhaven's a bigger town. More going on there."

"Yes, precisely."

"Must have been something really bad happened in your life to want to isolate yourself like this. What do you do for fun?"

The man's hands were trembling so bad, he was holding the beer can with both hands. Still he was having trouble finding his mouth with it. His eyes were plastered to Tab's naked torso. From what Tab had learned, he had to believe that the sight of the welts was unhinging this guy.

"I've come up here to get away from the fun. Let's just say I've had my fun and it led to something I'm not at all proud of."

Tab ran a hand down his belly. When it reached the fly of his shorts, he unbuttoned the top two buttons.

"Was it sex?"

"Yes," the man answered. He tried looking away, but he couldn't manage it for more than a couple of seconds.

"With a man?"

There was no verbal answer—just the sound of jagged breathing as the man gasped.

"I'll bet it was with a man. You're sexy. I've got built-in radar. I know when there's a man around who could treat me right. And I'll bet you're a top. I'd like that. And I bet you can punish a man. I like a man who can really make me feel it."

Tab ran his fingers along one of the welts on his torso, and he was rewarded by a low moan from the other man.

"You can't deny having your fun for the rest of your life—not just for whatever you think you've done before. You can always start again. You're too sexy to not get back on that wagon."

The bottom two buttons of Tab's shorts were opened, and his half-hard cock spilled out on its own.

"Nobody up here but just you and me," Tab said in a low, hoarse voice. "You said so yourself. No one to object or even to know. I've been horny for you since I drove up and saw you walk out of your door. You gonna make me beg? Or aren't you a top as I thought? Maybe you're not man enough to make another man feel it."

Giving out almost a primeval growl in the back of his throat, the man was across the room. He had his hands on Tab's chest, his trembling fingers tracing the welt marks Tab had inflicted on himself. And then h was kneeling between Tab's spread thighs. Tab cupped his head in his hand, helping to guide it bobbing back and forth.

"Oh, yes, daddy. Such a sweet mouth. Oh yes, treat me right. You got a bedroom upstairs? You got something that will make me feel it?"

When they got upstairs, Tab came up with two pairs of plastic wrist cuffs. He looked over at the brass bed. "The rails on that headboard strong?" he asked. "Springs good? Won't give in? I have quite a thrust when I'm fucked."

"I swore. Never again," a now naked man muttered. "That's what got . . ."

"But you want me bound, don't you? Was I wrong in seeing that in you?"

"Oh, god," the man whispered.

"I want to feel it," Tab murmured. He didn't, really, but he had read what might be needed to gain complete control. And he had steeled himself to the need.

"I don't have—"

"My belt. Not much. but to get me harder . . . Oh, shit, yes . . . Daddy. Yes!"

The man fucked Tab with his wrists bound over his head at the brass headboard, but Tab was just as happy that the man had given up any more brutal fetishes he might have had at one time than just a few flicks of the belt. Maybe the binding was enough for what Tab had in mind.

They fucked twice—once like animals, reflecting how long the man had been holding himself back—and the second time languidly, as if they were seasoned lovers. Tab didn't need his hands to coax a lover to be enthralled with fucking him. Tab had a talented, well-trained channel, the muscles of which were trained to draw a dick in and undulate the muscles of the channel's walls over it until man felt like he'd never been as hard, had never filled another man like that before, and had never spouted that much ejaculate.