Taking the Chance

Excerpt

The fist came into Robert's cheek, snapping his head around to the right.

Ow! Didn't see that one coming.

The sweat flew and grunts echoed from the multiple practice rings in the large gym. He contorted his torso as though he was going down but, at the last minute, charged forward and put a shoulder into the midsection of his opponent. They landed on the mat, grappling for supremacy. Robert would not let this punk get the better of him. He rolled onto his back in an open position. While seemingly vulnerable, his opponent covered him and tried to immobilize him.

Okay, it's time to end this little tussle.

Robert brought his right leg up between them and pressed his shin against the other man's throat, and then, wrapping his left leg around the back of the head, he pulled down on his foot. Adrenaline raced through his body, and his heart pounded with the thrill of battle.

"All right, all right. I give, you bastard."

The snap of his opponent's hand on the mat signaled his surrender. Robert let go of his buddy's foot. James was a good fighter, but still inexperienced. He climbed out from between Robert's legs.

"Jesus, man, where did you pull that move from?"

"It's not a move many use because of the flexibility required. It's called the Gogoplata. Tough to pull off, but very effective."

"I'll say. You had me pinned in like ten seconds." James reached down to pull him up onto his feet.

"Defeat me not, oh young one. Much to learn you have," he said.

They walked over to the ropes. Robert bent over and snagged the water bottle. The cool stream of water was perfect in his parched throat. They'd been hitting the mats hard for over an hour. First, he required a shower, followed by some food. He and James climbed out of the ropes. He unscrewed the cap and tilted the rest of the bottle over the top of James's head.

"Ahh, you motherfucker. That's cold." He turned, the smile on his face giving away the pissed-off act. "Do it again."

Robert pushed James on the back of his shoulder toward the locker room. "Go get your own cold shower."

"You realize the Yoda talk seriously dates you, right? I mean, unless somebody is a Star Wars freak, they probably haven't seen the prequels. And Grogu doesn't talk. Speaking of dating, when is the last time you had one, Obi-Wan?"

"You're confusing your characters, dimwit."

Looking back over his shoulder, James taunted, "You're avoiding the question."

A grimace creased Robert's forehead and lips. "I have dates. I went to the movies last weekend and to that new bar and grill on Second Avenue the week before."

"Going with your mom and her boyfriend doesn't count. I'm talking about texting an old hook-up, swiping right on an app, or, if you're desperate enough, stalking a hottie on the street to get their digits. Then you schedule a social engagement with that person, pick them up at their house since I know how much of a gentleman you are, pay for dinner that's not on the dollar menu, and, if you play your cards right, get a little action at the end of the evening."

Robert pushed open the door to the locker room and grabbed a towel off the stack. He and James always used the lockers on the far side of the room. In order to spin the combination lock, he took off his gloves. He and James were the only guys in the locker room at the moment, but just like workout facilities since the beginning of time, Eau de Sweaty Man lingered beneath commercial cleaning products used daily. James slammed his locker door and sauntered off into the shower room. Robert stripped off his shorts and jock. He grabbed his towel out of the gym bag because he didn't like the scratchy, thin white ones that were stocked for member use. He walked over to the showers and selected the open head closest to the opposite wall. After flipping his towel on the hook, he turned the spigot. The cold water made him sigh in pleasure and shiver at the same time. He looked over at James, who was using the showerhead a few feet over.

"It's been awhile, okay?"

"What's been...oh. Okay, like how long? Couple of weeks?"

"No," Robert grumbled.

"A month?"

He shook his head and focused on the pleasure of the water rinsing away the hard workout.

"Robert? How long? Three months?"

James's voice had gotten exponentially higher in pitch with each question. There was nothing to do but suck it up and take his licks.

"Fuck! Six months, happy?"

Six months of denying himself. Six months of jacking off in the shower and in bed at night, his imagination filling in the blank slate of his sex life. Nameless features on an unknown man. Only his memory supplied the sensation of a hard chest against his, a thick, long cock to rub against, and the feel of muscular legs wrapped around his hips as he thrust deep in a tight, hot ass or being stretched by broad blunt fingers. Shaking his head to dispel the images before he threw wood in the shower, he said, "When was the last time you had a proper date?"

"I'm married and a new father. The most exciting thing I do these days is see specimens previously unknown to human existence inside my kid's diaper." James rolled his eyes.

"First, that's just gross. Second, you're pathetic. We should hit Frank's tomorrow night. Think you can get enough time off for good behavior to grab a few beers?"

"Yeah, probably. I think Cindy is taking the baby to her mom's anyway. I'm always obsolete when we go there."

Robert shut off the spray, instantly missing the soothing beat against his tired muscles. He wrapped the towel around his waist and joined James by the lockers to get dressed.

"Hey, do you know what the weather is like?"

"No, they said the temps are supposed to drop, but not sure when. Why?"

"Hoodie? Or no hoodie?"

"What am I, your mom? Just put some damn clothes on and let's get out of here."

Robert made sure that James couldn't see him mouth back a snarky comment. He stuffed his gear and laundry in his bag, then headed for the exit. The moment he pushed open the exterior door, he knew he should have put the damn hoodie on.

"Damn, feels like that cool front is here already. I always thought March meant spring flowers and shit." James shivered as the cold air blew over his still-damp head.

"Not so cocky now, are you? You country folk in Southern Missouri might get to wear T-shirts this time of year, but here in Portland, we enjoy a more gradual ascent into spring. It usually arrives sometime in June."

Robert slapped James on the back and headed for his car. He looked to where James had parked his recently acquired family-friendly vehicle and yelled, "Don't forget! Tomorrow...beer, darts, and pool."