Because of a deathbed promise to his father, Elijah Peck reluctantly left his friends and successful career in Bridgeport to return to Willowby, Connecticut, the small town of his upbringing, in order to run the antique shop that had been in his family for generations. Now, in just the span of two years, Eli has morphed into a social recluse, isolated in what he believes is a stuffy, suffocating nowheresville. With no thriving gay community at his disposal, and with his entire existence wrapped around the store he never really wanted, Eli's devoted little time to his personal needs. As a result, instead of acting like a man in his mid-thirties, living out his own dreams, maybe even finding love with the right guy, he often feels like just another item in his shop -- a dusty, moldy antique that has seen better days.<br><br>But all that starts to change when a stranger moves to Willowby.<br><br>One night outside his shop, Eli has a chance encounter with Neville "Gray" Grayson, a wickedly handsome musician who's purposely left the bustle of New York City in favor of quiet country living. Eli is instantly drawn to Gray, and the flirtatious jazzman stirs dormant feelings inside Eli, reinvigorating his hopes for a brighter future. Not only does Gray make Eli feel attractive for the first time in years, but also makes him appreciate small-town life in a way he never has before. And Eli can't help but wonder if Gray's presence also offers the promise of finding much-needed companionship, sexual fulfillment, and perhaps even love ...

When the Jazzman Sings

Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks. The glow of a streetlight reflected off his crinkled forehead. “Are you going back to work at this hour?”


“Huh? Oh, no, I actually live above the shop.”


“So you really did go out of your way this evening.”


As we resumed walking side by side, his elbow brushing against mine, another fevered deliberation erupted in my brain…


Why not just offer to suck his dick? Why not just ask him to fuck the hell out of me or demand that he bend over for a thorough invasion from my own cock? It doesn’t have to be in the bedroom, but in the living room, the kitchen, or even in the stairwell leading upstairs. Why not? Why the hell not?


Chapter 8