Page 8 of Stalked By Shadows
My face felt like it was on fire. I was a gay man dammit. Had more than my share of one-night stands both fucking others and being fucked. It shouldn’t send me in a twist to see some toys. “No.”
“Not even a fleshlight?” He pointed toward the display on one wall. There were at least ten different kinds. I’d watched a handful of videos of him play with those.
“No.”
“A prostate stimulator?” He asked hopefully as he pointed out a few curved metal rods and some odd shaped clips.
“No.” I wasn’t even sure I’d ever had my prostate stimulated, but my cock was rock hard. Not thinking about what those toys could make me feel, but what they could do to him while I played with him. Fuck.
Micah sighed. “Gay men are so sexually repressed.” He glanced at me. “Oh, sorry. I guess you could be bi or pan. I didn’t ask. Some guys who watched me claimed to be straight,pretendingI was a girl while they jacked off. Splitting hairs if you ask me.”
“I’m gay,” I said, mouth dry, watching him bend over to adjust a display on the wall. “One hundred percent gay.”
“Well if you decide you want to try something let me know. Employees get a thirty percent discount on regular merchandise, but a forty percent on adult stuff. Sky buys a ton, but I’m not sure she’s ever used any of it. She’s more of a collector. My ex still gets the discount even though he only works a few nights a month.”
I was still stuck on his first sentence:if you decide you want to try something let me know. I wanted to try a lot of things, on him. Fuck. Was my face on fire? It felt bright red, and my cock throbbed. Would it be odd to rub one off in the bathroom? Probably. Funny how I’d worried for months that my dick was broken, libido had got up and left after the attack on my team, but now… Fuck.
“Alex?” Micah asked. “You okay?”
“Honest?” I asked.
“Sure.”
“I’m totally turned on. First time in a while. Like I thought I couldn’t anymore, but…”
Micah looked stunned. “Really?” Then he frowned. “I guess being at war can do that to anyone.”
It was that night with that thing that really broke me. And the death of my teammates. Now it was him turning me on, not being home or looking at some goofy sex toys. It was the idea of him. The fantasies a couple of videos had sparked in me, combined with his quirky casual attitude about sex and his smile. “You’re not bothered?”
“No. But I lived most of my life overseas, so the American taboo on sex never really had a hold on me. Sex is fun and enjoyable. It’s an act of consenting adults having a good time. Not something to be ashamed of. Does it upset you that your body is choosing now to react?”
“No. Just surprised… I mean I know physically there was nothing wrong with me. The doctors said it was likely psychological from…” He didn’t need to know all the gory details. “My therapist said that time would help heal some of the emotional blocks…”
“That’s good then, right?”
“Sure.”
“Do you need to step out for a few minutes?”
No. I was a grown up. Could control my urges and all that. “I’ll be okay. I’ll maybe put some stock away to get my mind clear?”
“Okay. Let me give you a little tour of the shop so you can start putting things away and getting familiar with the layout. People ask a lot of dumb questions, but most of the questions are where something is.”
“Knowing is half the battle,” I said with a bit of snark.
Micah smiled, seeming to catch my G.I. Joe reference. “I guess so.”
Chapter 3
The shop layout was pretty easy since it was so small. Thankfully focusing on the layout gave my cock time to calm the fuck down. The register counter housed expensive jewelry, all custom artist pieces that were one of a kind. There was a wall of T-shirts and other commercial junk like mass-market voodoo dolls, incense, mugs, and plaques with funny sayings. That stuff sold well and needed constant restocking, Micah informed me. All made in China shit. Cheap knock offs that the tourists loved.
The rest of the shop was more interesting, with a bookcase full of local authors, wicca guidebooks, and a few hard to find old grimoires—which were locked behind glass on the top shelf. There were a lot of local artist items. From hand knitted shawls, and voodoo cat toys that benefited charities, to glass art, and metal sculptures.
Putting away the mass-market stuff was easy. Finding room for new artwork I left for Micah since he had a box of what looked like copper pounded jazz musicians standing about a half foot high. They were kind of cool, but I didn’t see a single open shelf space to fit them.
There was a section of hand-crafted candles and soaps. Vials of essential oils, small containers of handmade lip balm and lotion. Even a section of prayer shawls and one of a kind shoulder bags decorated a corner near a mirror.
I found myself intrigued by a small section with a bulletin board marked with “Have you seen me” posters. There were dozens of posters, even a stack shoved in a folder almost an inch thick, fastened to the board. ‘411 Mysteries’ the top of the board read in bold letters. A handful of books displayed on the shelf below it indicated it was a big thing, though I’d never heard of it before. I picked up one of the books and read the back. People gone missing without a trace in state parks for no reason. Small clues tied them all together, bodies found miles away, or even across the country, without shoes or clothes. People turning up months later with no memory of where they’d been; survivor tales of wolfmen feeding children berries. It all sounded like fiction to me.