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  Go to Him

  By Terry O’Reilly

  Published by JMS Books LLC

  Visit jms-books.com for more information.

  Copyright 2019 Terry O’Reilly

  ISBN 9781634869461

  Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

  Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

  All rights reserved.

  WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America.

  * * * *

  Go to Him

  By Terry O’Reilly

  Trent Hardy was running along a sandy beach at the edge of the ocean. The summer sun glinted off the waves which broke over the sand and swirled around his feet. He was dressed only in white linen clam diggers.

  As he ran, flocks of seagulls rose from the sand before him. They circled overhead, punctuating the air with their signature strident calls, then settled again once he passed.

  As his bare feet pounded the wet sand, he could hear the deep voice repeating over and over, Go to him. He’s waiting for you.

  To whom the voice was referring, Trent didn’t know. He just knew he had to follow the voice’s command and find whomever it was.

  He ran on and on, not knowing where he was running to, or why, only knowing that somewhere ahead was someone who was waiting for him.

  In the distance Trent caught sight of a white pagoda on the sand. Between each of its archways, sheer white curtains waved in the ocean breeze.

  As Trent drew closer, he could see someone standing within the structure. Trent’s excitement rose. Go to him. He’s waiting for you, continued to sound in his head.

  As Trent drew closer, he slowed to a walk. He could see the person clearly now. It was a man. He had blond hair and was smiling at Trent. The man was young, handsome, and also dressed only in white clam diggers. He waved as Trent approached.

  Trent was now at the steps of the pagoda, looking up into a pair of pale blue eyes.

  “Trent,” the man said. His voice was soft, tender, and welcoming. Yet, it was also tinged with sadness.

  Trent walked up the steps. Behind the man was a bed covered in white linen. The man reached out to him, took Trent’s hand, and pulled him close until they stood face to face. The man placed his hands on Trent’s waist and tilted his head to one side. Trent reached out, put his hands on either side of the man’s face, and drew him into a kiss. Their lips met. Trent felt a thrill of recognition and a surge of love. The man took Trent’s hand and led him to the bed; he lay down and opened his arms. Trent began to crawl onto the bed, his excitement rising.

  * * * *

  Buzz! Buzz! Buzz! The staccato sounds of Trent’s alarm clock awakened him. He reached out and silenced it, then turned onto his back. He was fully aroused, his heart pounding, disappointment flooding him. Fuckin’ alarm! Why now!

  Trent took a deep breath and, closing his eyes, strove to recreate the moment just before the abhorrent alarm had intruded on his dream. The man was so familiar. However, his identity was just out of Trent’s reach. Trent was sure it was someone he knew and knew well—someone he loved. However, whomever he was, Trent’s mind refused to divulge his identity.

  Holding the image of the man’s face before him, Trent went over the dream in his mind. They had kissed. He’d led Trent to the bed. Trent tried to conjure what was to happen next—to feel the man’s arms around him, the man’s body against his?

  I know him. Trent thought. But who is—?

  Go to him. He’s waiting for you, sounded in Trent’s mind. But this time he was fully awake. It wasn’t as if he were remembering the words from the dream. They were actually in his head. It was the same deep voice he’d heard as he’d been running on the beach.

  Trent opened his eyes. What’s going on? Who am I supposed to go to? Why is he waiting for me?

  There had been only one person who could be waiting for him. But that was long ago. Trent didn’t want to think about him. It still hurt too much.

  He sat up. “This is nuts. It’s just part of that dream. There’s no one waiting for me.”

  At the sound of his voice, Bentley, Trent’s beagle, roused himself from the foot of the bed, walked up to where Trent lay, and began licking his face.

  Thoughts of the dream and the voice faded. “Good boy, Bentley. You waited for Daddy to get up. You want your breakfast?”

  Bentley licked more furiously.

  “You do? Well let’s go get it then.”

  Bentley leapt off the bed and ran in circles, barking loudly.

  “Shh! You’ll wake Mrs. Patterson. One more complaint and she’ll have us thrown out of the building.”

  As if he understood, Bentley stopped barking, but not the frantic circling. Trent got out of bed, slipped on his pajama bottoms and slippers, and headed for the kitchen, Bentley trotting expectantly ahead of him.

  He fed Bentley and began fixing his own breakfast, once again contemplating the strange voice and the dream. His phone rang.

  He picked it up, pressed speaker, and placed it back on the counter as he stirred the eggs he was scrambling. “Hello.”

  “Hi, big brother.” It was his sister, Nicole.

  “Hi, Nicci. What’s up? Why the early morning call?”

  “Wanted to remind you that the family is taking Mom out for her birthday this Saturday.”

  “Got it on my calendar. That all?”

  “Well…yes…but I really wanted to give you some news. I passed my detective exam.”

  “Wow, that’s great. You deserve it. You’ve done a great job as a beat cop.”

  “Thanks. I’ll still have to take a couple of courses in criminology and investigation, but…yeah…I’m psyched. Well, gotta run. Just wanted to let you know.”

  “Congratulations, Sis. I’m proud of you.”

  They said goodbye. Trent smiled as he dished up his eggs. He and his sister were close—closer than most siblings. From their very earliest years, they’d shared everything. They had no secrets from each other. She’d been the first person he’d come out to. Trent decided that at first chance he’d tell her about his dream.

  Trent ate, showered, and dressed. He took Bentley out for their morning walk. The sun was bright and warm. The birds were singing. It was going to be a beautiful day. The dream and the voice were forgotten.

  * * * *

  Trent drove Bentley to Camp Woof-N-Sniff for doggie daycare. Woof-N-Sniff was housed in a large, old, two-story house. Its motto—Why send your dogs to prison, when they can go to camp!

  Rather than keeping the dogs in kennels, they were free to roam the spacious rooms filled with plush sofas, cushions, and toys, or go out into a large grassy enclosure at will through a dog flap door.

  Bentley quivered all over as they drove into the parking lot. Trent felt good that his pooch enjoyed being there. He was glad he’d discovered it. It eas
ed his guilt at being gone most of the day, leaving Bentley alone at home. He got out of the car and opened the back door. Bentley fairly flew off the seat.

  “Whoa there, sport. You’ll be in with your friends soon enough,” Trent said with a chuckle.

  The barking from inside the facility could be heard outside. Mrs. Patterson would never approve. Trent and Bentley went in. They were met by Paula, the receptionist.

  “Good morning, Bentley,” Paula said in greeting. She came around the corner of her desk and knelt to pet the dog. “Morning, Trent,” she added over her shoulder as she ruffed Bentley’s ears. At Camp Woof-N-Sniff owners were afterthoughts. Dogs were the priority.

  As Trent was returning Paula’s greeting, the bell on the door jingled, and another pup came in with its owner.

  “Why hello, Trent,” a tall, attractive blonde sang out. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  “Hello, Christy,” Trent said. They met here almost every morning, and while it might not be unusual for drop-offs to coincide, the regularity with which Christy seemed to arrive just before or after Trent was suspicious. Her, Fancy meeting you here, line was getting old.

  She sidled up to him, much too close for Trent’s comfort, and once again began the litany of how her precious Ariel and Bentley would make such beautiful babies—if only they weren’t fixed. Trent doubted that a hairless Chinese crested and beagle mix would be beautiful and figured she was really insinuating that Trent and Christy would be the ones who would blend nicely.

  Should probably end her misery and wear one of my Out and Proud buttons. But even with that, she’d most likely not get the point, Trent thought. She’d probably think she could ‘cure’ me.

  Go to him. He’s waiting for you, sounded in Trent’s head. The voice was more insistent than before. Trent went rigid, staring straight ahead of him.

  “Trent? Trent!” Christy said. “Are you okay?”

  “What? Yeah…I’m fine.” Trent said, feeling uneasy as well as slightly embarrassed. What the hell was going on?

  “You sure? You look pretty upset. Your face went pale,” Paula said as she got up from where she’d crouched to greet Ariel.

  “No. No, I just remembered I left some important stuff at home I need for a meeting at work,” Trent lied.

  The moment passed, and both Trent and Christy said goodbye to their pets as Paula led them away to join their friends.

  Trent and Christy left together and walked to their cars.

  “Nice seeing you again, Trent,” Christy said. “Maybe someday when you’re not so busy, we could go out for brunch after we drop Ariel and Bentley off.”

  Trent was not paying attention, his mind still on the strange voice and what it could mean. “Yeah, yeah, sure,” he mumbled.

  “Wonderful. Maybe tomorrow at Marie’s. It’s a cute little restaurant near here. They serve great eggs Benedict.”

  “Uh? What?” Trent said.

  “Brunch? Tomorrow?”

  Realizing what was happening, Trent made the excuse he’d need to check his schedule.

  Christy smiled and said, “I’ll check with you tomorrow then, when we drop off the kids.”

  * * * *

  They said goodbye and left. “Fuck! I’ve stepped in it with Christy. Now I have to deal with her and figure out what this voice thing is all about,” Trent said aloud as he approached an intersection. He turned on his left blinker. As he did he had a strong urge to go right instead. He resisted the urge and turned left.

  Immediately the voice said, Go to him. He’s waiting for you.

  Trent pulled over to the curb. He sat, hands on the steering wheel, trying to decide what he should do. He made up his mind.

  This isn’t going to stop until I find out what this is all about, he thought. He took out his phone and called the law office where he worked as a paralegal. He made up the excuse that there was an emergency he needed to take care of, rationalizing it might very well be true. Once done, he pulled away from the curb, made a U-turn, and headed in the direction in which the voice had urged him.

  Trent drove slowly, awaiting further indications of where to go. He made several turns in response to the urgings he felt. Soon he was driving in familiar surroundings.

  He recognized where he was. “This is my old neighborhood,” he said aloud.

  He slowed and stopped in front of a house. It wasn’t the house he’d grown up in. However, he did recognize it. He looked at the two-story, pale blue, frame, Victorian style house with its sweeping front porch. He stared at the house for several minutes, trying to remember why it looked so familiar.

  Go to him. He’s waiting for you.

  This time the voice was gentle, almost tender.

  Trent took a deep breath and got out of the car. He walked up the front walk. It was lined with white flowers. When he started up the stairs, he noticed the white pillars of the porch resembled those of the pagoda from his dream. The curtains in the windows were white sheers, as were those he’d seen in the pagoda on the beach. The windows were open and the curtains rippled in the summer breeze. A wave of apprehension mingled with excitement flowed through him.

  He got to the front door and raised his hand to ring the bell, but stopped. “I can’t do this…it’s too weird.”

  Trent turned to leave. As he did, the door opened behind him. Turning back, he saw the blond-haired man with the pale blue eyes from his dream. Again he was dressed only in white clam diggers.

  The man smiled and said very softly, “Trent.”

  There was no hint of surprise in the man’s voice at seeing Trent. It was more like he was greeting someone whom he was expecting.

  Trent looked intently at the man. Something about him made Trent feel warm and at ease. He looked so familiar. Then it came to him. “Dean?”

  The man’s smile deepened. He nodded. “It’s been a while.”

  The next moment, Trent had Dean’s face in his hands. Dean’s arms went around his waist, and Trent was kissing him. The kiss was deep and filled with emotion from both men. When it was over, Trent stepped back and stared at Dean. He could hardly believe his eyes. It was Dean. He was back.

  Dean took Trent by the hand and led him into the house. When the door closed, Dean pulled Trent into another kiss. Trent let his hands roam over the soft, bronzed skin of the slender man.

  Dean stepped back and turned, leading Trent up a flight of stairs. From the landing, Trent followed Dean into a bedroom. Trent recognized the room. It’d been Dean’s when he’d lived here with his family. In the center of the room was a bed, covered in white linen—the bed Trent had seen in the pagoda.

  Dean’s clam diggers dropped to the floor. Trent let his gaze wander over the beautiful man who stood before him. His arousal increasing, Trent undressed. Dean lay down on the bed and opened his arms. Trent knelt on the bed and then laid down next to Dean and was pulled into his embrace.

  This time, no buzzing alarm intruded on the moment. The men covered each other with kisses. They held each other in tight embraces. Trent relished the feel of their firm bodies pressed together. They turned so they could take each other into their mouths, and Trent felt an explosion of exquisite fulfillment as they reached their climax together. Memories of a night long ago flooded Trent’s mind.

  Now they lay facing each other again. “How long has it been?” Trent asked.

  “Twenty-five years,” was the reply.

  Trent pulled Dean close. “I’ve missed you. I can’t tell you how much. I’m so happy you’re back!”

  As they lay together in each other’s arms, Trent let his mind go back to that night when two teen-aged boys had lain on this same bed, only then it had been covered in a blanket with NFL logos rather than white linen. That night they’d confessed they’d had feelings for each other for as long as they could remember.

  For Trent it had begun in kindergarten. From their very first day, Trent wanted Dean to be his friend. The two had become inseparable, even to the point of sharing a mat at nap time
. As the years went by, Trent’s feelings for Dean morphed from friendship to sexual attraction and then to love. After Dean’s admitting that he, too, had similar feelings, they had begun their first tentative exploration of expressing those feelings physically.

  “Can I kiss you?” Trent had asked.

  Dean had nodded. They’d kissed, and Trent had been filled with an inexpressible joy and love for his friend.

  That memorable night had been the only one Dean and Trent had spent together in this way. The next Monday at school, Dean had told Trent his father had announced at breakfast he’d been transferred to his company’s office in Jakarta, Indonesia and that they would be leaving in a week. The separation had devastated Trent. He’d only just confessed his sexuality to himself. And he’d found love—only to have it torn from him.

  For a few years afterward the two communicated by mail, reaffirming their longing to be together, and vowing that one day it would happen.

  But, as it often does, life intervened. The letters had become fewer and had finally stopped.

  “I’m sorry we lost touch,” Trent said.

  Dean nodded. “We were so young when you left. There was so much I wanted to say. But we were kids, I didn’t know how to tell you I loved you.”

  Trent’s words seemed to touch Dean’s heart, because he hugged Trent closer. “I never stopped hoping that someday I’d hear you say that.”

  Trent went on, “When we were kids, we didn’t know about such things…or how to show love.”

  Dean pulled Trent ever closer. “We’re not kids anymore though.”

  “No, we’re not.”

  Trent got up on his knees. Dean placed his legs on Trent’s shoulders. With love and tenderness, Trent pressed himself inside Dean. He looked down on his friend and saw an expression that transcended words. It was as if love beamed from his face.

  For an undeterminable time their union continued. When Trent finally succumbed to the forces of nature, he lay next to Dean, wrapping his arms around him.

  They lay this way for some time, when Trent said, “I need you inside me.”

  He turned away from his lover. Dean spooned against him, uniting them once more. Again the amazing feeling of oneness with Dean pervaded, and Trent was lost in the wonder that the two of them could be enveloped in such a deep, mystical union.