Introducing Desert Days, a Serialized Novel, Chapter 1

By Rocco Sargent

The following chapter of the serial novel, Desert Days, is R-rated and not appropriate for the young or impressionable, so be forewarned and skip to the next article if you might be offended. For an even more explicit, X-rated version, buy the latest batch of chapters on Amazon for your Kindle Reader.

Desert Days, Chapter One

Jason could feel the weight of the man pressing down on him. The hot, wet breathe on his neck. The slip of a tongue tickling the hairs on the back of his neck.  Jason arched his back just a bit in an attempt lure the man into grinding a hard dick into Jason’s ass.

But there was no man. Jason shook his head and returned his thoughts to the task at hand. Jason wasn’t in a candle-lit bedroom. There was no soft music or thick, muscular man on his bed. Jason was at work, on a construction site, cutting lumber to build a new museum for Native American arts.

At 28 years old, Jason kept to himself while at work. While southern California might be liberal at times, there were plenty of ignorant lugs on work sites like this one. Jason had learned that lesson the hard way. And now, more than five years after an awkward and nearly violent firing from the Atlas Construction Company, Jason kept his head down and his mouth shut. Dating guys was enough to get you fired for no good reason in the construction business.

Ironically, construction sites were notorious for diversity. Even when construction companies stuck to strict laws, you could find all kinds working the hard labor jobs at most sites. From reformed drug dealers to out-of-luck hippies, construction sites tended to have all sorts on the job. Unfortunately, there was always a gang of loud, close-minded jerks who liked to be the unofficial bosses on site.

The real bosses generally didn’t care if you sucked dick, drank until dawn, or dressed like a woman. Jason only liked to suck cock. The real bosses only cared that you showed up on time and put in a good day’s work. That’s why Jason had been working steadily for four years -- even through the slow times. He was reliable.

Jason liked this job. His current employer, Zeus Construction, was in charge of finishing this museum as quickly as possible. Zeus Construction had to finish the museum so that the casino next door could open its doors. The city of Palm Springs had agreed to another  casino downtown as long as there was a cultural center next door. And the casino couldn’t open until the museum was open.

The casino was under construction right next door. And as Jason’s bad luck would have it, the construction company in charge of the casino was Atlas. Although five years had passed, he still didn’t want anything to do with that company. He had stuck his dick where it didn’t belong and had suffered the consequences. The jerk that lead the charge to get him fired was still working for Atlas. Sometimes, when the sound of drills and hammers came to a stop, Jason heard the loud, overbearing voice of Ben from the Atlas site next door.

The local press was always nosing around the sites for information about delays or complications on either site. In addition, one particular reporter, Rick, liked to create comparisons and create competition between the two sites. It was natural. And the headlines almost wrote themselves. “Atlas or Zeus: Who Is The Strongest and Fastest?”
On this particular Friday, Rick was on site asking questions about overtime. Because the city was putting money into each building, paying workers overtime was a public concern according to the local paper. While Rick was only supposed to talk to the site manager, he always seemed to wander around and talk to the guys with their shirts off.

When Jason saw Rick he started getting hot. The 85 degree weather didn’t help, but Rick was had the well-tailored look of a 1950s movie actor. Jason liked the professional type. He knew that he played into the construction worker fantasy for these guys -- especially when he was on all fours begging for a hard fuck. But Jason liked to surprise these educated, button-down types with his working knowledge of everything from Roman history to French vocabulary. Jason was a smart guy and he was more likely to spend his time off at the library than at one of the local clothing-optional spas. Although he was known to frequent each on the same day.

Jason took his shirt off. He was curious to see how quickly Rick would make his way over for a chat. It took less than five minutes. Jason was standing near the pile of freshly cut lumber when, from behind, he heard Rick. “Can I ask you something?” Jason smiled and turned around. But he presented Rick with a more serious, sombre face. He didn’t want this to be easy for the reporter.

“Sure,” Jason said.

“I’m Rick Stevens from the local paper, The Sun Gazette,” Rick said.

“I know what the name of the local paper is. And I certainly know your name, Rick.” Jason’s tone was meant to be a bit hard-edged.

Rick paused, not certain how to proceed. He stuck out his hand. “What’s your name?”

Jason smiled and said, “For now you can just call me a ‘young, career construction worker.’”

“Are you writing the article for me?” Rick asked.

“Depends on what it’s about.” Jason said dropping the smile. But he winked. The wink was the opening flirtation.

From thirty feet away, the site boss called over to Rick, “Don’t start asking questions you shouldn’t. Jason knows better anyway.” This pleased Jason. The boss knew Jason was going to be considered in how he spoke to the reporter.

Rick waved him off and turned back to Jason. “So you are Jason, then?”

“Some guys just call me Jay.” This was a flirtation few straight guys would notice. But using the word “guys” was Jason’s way of pointing out there were no women who might have have a reason to use his name. There were plenty of “guys” however, that had said things like, “You like that big dick in your ass, Jay?” or “Fuck me Jay. Fuck it.”

“Tell me, Jay. How are things going on the site?” Rick said, making sure to use the more familiar “Jay” than “Jason.” Sweat was dripping down Jason’s chest and Rick’s eyes followed the drip as it slipped between Jason’s pecs.

“Is that an official question. Because I can’t give you an official answer.” Jason said waiting to meet Rick’s gaze as soon as he stopped staring at Jason’s chest.

“No. No. Off the record. For the sake of the taxpayers and readers, between us… where would you improve things,” Rick asked.

“Over there,” Jason said and pointed the Atlas site next door. The Atlas site was directly behind Rick and when Jason pointed he didn’t hesitate to hold his meaty arm next to Rick’s face. He felt Rick’s exhale on his arm, but didn’t move a muscle.

Now the two men were in a staring competition -- something only straight guys do in conflict. But for two gay guys feeling each other out, this was a signal. The longer the stare, the more likely they were going to be rubbing each other’s cocks at some point soon.

Rick turned slightly and pushed Jason’s arm out of the way. Rick’s touch was firm, but not aggressive. And it lingered a long time. Now they both knew.

“Over that Atlas site, huh?” Rick said.

“Always something fishy over there.” Jason answered and smiled.

“Are you working here this weekend?” Rick asked.

“Is that an official question about overtime?” Jason asked, knowing full-well it was not.

But before Rick could answer, the boss interrupted again. “Let him get back to work, Rick,” the boss said.

Jason continued, “No, I am not working this weekend. And I am not working past five o’clock tonight. I have a date. With a beer. Right there,” Jason said now pointing to the pub across the street. “At 5:05. And I wouldn’t dream of standing it up.”

Rick smiled. That was an indirect invitation for a beer. He turned and walked away before Jason could notice the bulge in his khakis.

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For more on Jason, Jack, Fergus and the rest, buy the latest batch of chapters of Desert Days on Amazon for your Kindle Reader. Rocco Sargent is the nom-de-plume for a freelance writer who lives with his partner in both France and California.