Marie Sexton - Between Sinners And Saints

…Jaime’s hand slid toward the inside of Levi’s thigh, and Levi tensed. “Just relax, Mr. Binder.” At least he pronounced it right.
“Please don’t call me that.”
“You prefer Levi?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, Levi. Try to relax.”
But Levi was finding it very difficult to relax. Jaime’s soft hand was moving slowly up the inside of his thigh, stopping every inch or two to press into the muscle before moving on, and Levi’s body was reacting in a way he feared was wholly inappropriate, given the circumstances.
“Relax,” Jaime said again.
“I can’t!” Levi snapped.
“Don’t worry about it,” Jaime said. His tone was clinical. Professional. Detached. “It’s a common physical reaction. You don’t need to be embarrassed.”
“Easy for you to say.”
“It’s a natural response to physical stimulation—”
“No shit!” The stupid thing was, now they were talking about it, it was only getting worse. He was pretty much flying full mast now, and the thin sheet covering him certainly wasn’t hiding it. “Are you almost done?”
Suddenly Jaime pushed harder on his tender thigh. It hurt so much Levi almost jumped off the table. “
Ow!
What the hell? Did you do that on purpose?”
“Took your mind off your other problem, didn’t it?” Jaime said, without cracking a smile.
“You’re a little bit sadistic, aren’t you?”
“You’re not the first person to think so…”

This book is a work of fiction.
All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved.
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.

Copyright © 2011 by Marie Sexton ISBN 978-1-61124-121-1 Cover Art © 2011 Trace Edward Zaber

In addition to the usual suspects (you know who you are), I would like to thank my surfing guru, Carter, and my own slightly sadistic massage therapist, Kendra, without whom this book could not have been written.

“Levi! I could use some help out here!” Pounding on the door to the storage room followed the words.
Although Levi heard them, he didn’t answer. His fellow bartender knew what was going on. In another hour or two, it’d be his turn in the storage room while Levi handled the bar. So Levi ignored him. He leaned back against the wall, the fingers of both hands tangled in the hair of the man on his knees in front of him, and lost himself to the pleasure the kid was giving him. The wall at his back vibrated with the deep bass of the beat from the dance floor, and the kid at his feet seemed to move in time with it. Levi thought to himself, not for the first time, how very much he loved his job.
The man on his knees was named Joe. Or John. Or maybe it was Josh. Levi couldn’t quite remember and didn’t care. And he probably wasn’t even twenty-one yet. Levi didn’t care about that either. Whatever his name was, the kid had the sweetest mouth Levi had encountered in a very long time. And he’d encountered a great many in his years at the club.
“Levi!” Max yelled again, pounding on the door.
“I’m coming!” Levi yelled.
John—or Josh, or whatever the hell his name was—actually laughed, even with Levi’s cock filling his mouth, and Levi pushed himself deeper as he proved he hadn’t been lying.
Once Levi let go of his head, the kid stood up. His own pants were still done up, and he ground himself against Levi’s thigh as he smiled at him. “You better get back out there before your friend breaks the door down.” The best thing about him, next to his warm mouth, of course, was the fact he never wanted anything in return. Not this early in the night, at any rate. He was just working himself up, which was fine with Levi.
“Another hour or two, he’ll have somebody bent over that table,” Levi said as he pulled away and buttoned his pants. “So I’m pretty sure he wants the door intact. Thanks, man. Drinks are on me tonight.”
“I’m counting on it.”
A few free drinks for a blow job. He found the men who were willing to make the trade pathetic, but it sure didn’t stop him from taking advantage of what they offered. It’d kept Levi up to his eyeballs in willing men for nearly ten years. The Zone may not have been the biggest gay club in Miami, but it still got plenty of business, and Levi was one of the hottest bartenders around, even if he was over thirty now. It made for a good combo, and a great many rendezvous in the storage room. Tight young asses and warm, willing mouths. And it wasn’t as if the owners didn’t know. The rumor was, Zeke and Owen had started the tradition themselves. There were boxes of condoms on the shelf and a tube of lubricant. And a jar of Vaseline, which Max preferred, when he could find somebody willing to go bareback. The regulars knew for an extra twenty bucks they could make use of the room as well, as long as they didn’t take too long and they cleaned up whatever mess they made. It was a hell of deal all around.
“You want to go surfin’ tomorrow?” Jon/Joe/Josh asked as Levi headed for the door. “I can meet you down there.”
This was the part Levi hated. Yeah, they’d originally met while surfing. They’d had a few hook-ups since then, once in the kid’s van and twice at the club. But now he wanted to plan something together? That was a recipe for disaster.
Levi pushed his overgrown brown hair out of his face while he debated how to answer. “I have plans tomorrow,” he lied. “Maybe another time.” He left the room and went back to the bar. The truth was, Levi probably
would
go surfing tomorrow. He’d just go to a different beach for a while.
“Took you long enough,” Max said when Levi made it back to the bar. “You’re getting slow in your old age.”
Levi flipped him the bird and then it was back to work.
All in all, it was a night like any other at The Zone. The Zone attracted a young crowd, and Levi was the oldest of the bartenders. Tonight, he felt every bit of his thirty years and then some. He was struggling with a pain that had been slowly getting worse over the last few weeks. It seemed to start in his lower back, but as the night wore on, it would progress down through his left ass cheek, and, sometime before morning, it would have spread farther. The next place it hit, and the worst place by far, was high on his inner left thigh. By the time three A.M. rolled around, he was having a hard time not limping.
“You still having that pain, old man?” Max asked during a lull at the bar. Max was big and black. He was only twenty-two and liked to deck himself out in leather. In another ten or fifteen years, he’d probably be a bear, but he had some filling out to do first. Still, he wasn’t a small guy by any means. “A pain in your ass.” He laughed. “And here I thought you were a top guy.”
Levi put his hand on the back of Max’s neck and pushed him forward, bending him over the bar he could ram into him from behind. “I am. And you could use a little pain in
your
ass, Max.”
“Is it little?” Max teased.
“You want to find out?”
“You keep threatening, but you never follow through.”
The fact was, Max was even more of a top-only guy than Levi, and given Max’s fondness for going bareback, Levi had no desire to fuck him or be fucked by him. He was pretty sure Max felt the same. This was just a game they played. Levi let Max go and tried to massage his aching thigh through his jeans.
“You should see a doctor or something, man,” Max said.
Levi was starting to think that was true. The problem was, he had no insurance and what would a doctor tell him anyway? To quit surfing? To get a desk job so he didn’t have to stand on his feet for hours at a time?
No, Levi wasn’t going to any doctor.
When his shift ended, he went home. He took four ibuprofen tablets, rubbed some Icy-Hot on his back and thigh, then lay in bed with his ass on a heating pad. He had to admit to himself as he drifted off to sleep, it really was hell getting old.
His phone was ringing at eight-thirty the next morning. It was his landline, not his cell phone, which meant it probably wasn’t anybody he wanted to talk to. He dragged himself out of bed, groggy and grumpy, and checked the caller ID.
Abraham Binder.
Levi groaned. Abraham Binder was his father. Of course, it wouldn’t be his father calling. It would be his mother, Nancy. He didn’t want to talk to her either. It was just like his mother to call early on a Sunday morning. She knew he worked until five A.M. on the weekends. And even though she would be happy and cheery and practically overflowing with good will, he knew she had intentionally woken him.
He knew she would say, “Oh honey, I’m so sorry! Were you still sleeping?” in a mock-innocent tone that drove him nuts. Then, one of two things would happen. Either Levi could say no, he was already awake, in which case his mother would ask hopefully if he’d finally found a “real” job, or Levi would admit he’d been asleep, at which point his mother would launch into a lecture on why his current life choices were unhealthy and self-destructive. And every single word of it would be because she
loved
him.
No fucking way was he ready to deal with her.
But now that he was awake, he figured he may as well get to the beach early. He changed into his swim trunks and grabbed his board from the coat closet. Levi owned two vehicles: a bright red Yamaha VStar 950 motorcycle, which he loved more than anything, and an old beat-up shit-brown Toyota pick-up from the eighties, which he owned only because his surfboard fit in the back. The truck didn’t have A/C, and Levi had to crank both windows down as he drove to the beach. Not that it did much good in the Florida heat and humidity. It was only June and even at nine o’clock in the morning, it was obvious the day was going to be scorching hot.
The beach he picked wasn’t known for its huge swells, but Levi didn’t mind. He liked it because it wasn’t too crowded. He paddled out into the surf. He went much farther than he needed to, far past the swells, before straddling his board. The tide was on its way in, so Levi decided to let it carry him. He lay back on his board and let himself drift. The sun beat down on him. The water rocked him gently. He may even have dozed a bit. He could never be sure. Even running on three hours of sleep, he couldn’t deny how good it felt to be out on the water, alone. He felt free.
He roused himself again when the gentle rolling of the sea became more pronounced. Now it was time to surf. He fell into a rhythm, riding the swells, waiting for one that felt just right, paddling into it, and then jumping to his feet as it grabbed his board and carried him forward. Then he’d paddle back out into the surf and do it again. It was a pattern he found exhilarating and relaxing, all at the same time. Of course, riding the wave was the exciting part, but Levi enjoyed the whole experience. It was all about knowing the ocean, knowing the beach and the waves and his own body. He lost himself in the water. There was no time to think about his mother and what she wanted him to be. There was no time to think about the club and what he’d let himself become. There was only he and his board, the sun and the breeze, the water and the waves.
Levi had no idea how long he was out. But when the surf around him started to fill with splashing tourists, he knew it was time to go home.
It was two o’clock when he walked back into his apartment. He was tired and ravenously hungry. And his ass hurt, as well as his thigh. The surfing aggravated it, he knew that, but he loved the sport so much, he did it anyway. Now he’d be paying for it for days.
He made himself a giant sub sandwich, grabbed a beer out of the fridge and settled in front of the TV to eat while watching some insanely bad martial arts movie that looked like it had been made on a budget of about fifty bucks. Less than halfway through the sandwich, his phone rang again. This time, it was his cell phone. And this time, it wasn’t his mother calling. It was his sister, Ruth.
“Hey, Leviticus,” she said cheerfully. She knew he hated being reminded of his full name. As if it wasn’t bad enough his parents had given them all biblical names, they had also managed, by some strange twist of fate, to saddle him with one sure to remind him each and every time he heard it that his “lifestyle” was an abomination. At least in the eyes of his family and their God. “You avoiding Mom’s call again?”
Despite her propensity to call him by his full name, Ruth was the sibling he got along with the best. “Maybe I wouldn’t if she’d wait until after ten to call.”
“That’s what I told her. She’s worried, though, Levi. Nobody’s heard from you in a while.” Of course they hadn’t. What was he supposed to do? Check in weekly with the family who hated him? Like she was reading his mind, Ruth said, “They all love you, you know.”
It always came down to this. They loved him, yes, but not his choices. Hate the sin; love the sinner. They knew he wasn’t gay by choice. They accepted that he had been born this way. His mother had told him many times that she’d always known he was different—and she had four sons, so it was possible she was telling the truth. Yet, even knowing it was something he couldn’t change, they still believed it was a sin. It was a test God had given him, and he was failing. Because the only way to pass the test, according to them, was to deny his feelings. To spend his life refusing to give in to his needs. To “reject the homosexual lifestyle.” In short, to live his life alone and in the closet.
“Ruth, do we have to talk about this again?”
“No. But let me at least hit the major points so I can give Mom an accurate report. Still working at the bar?”
“Yes.”
“Still gay?” This was said as a joke more than anything, and Levi smiled.
“Yes.”
“How’s the surfing?”
“It’s…” He was going to say it was fine. Maybe great. Then he thought about the pain burning in his thigh and in his left ass cheek. “Ruth, I have a question for you. Or, for Jackson, actually.”
Jackson was Ruth’s husband and he was an orthopedic surgeon. Jackson had started out a Methodist, but had converted to Mormonism when he married Ruth, although Levi suspected his “conversion” didn’t go much deeper than lip service. Levi liked him, sometimes more than he liked his own brothers, mostly because Jackson was the one person in his “family” who supported his choice to live his life his own way.
“I’m having this pain. It starts in my lower back and goes through my…gluteus.” Ruth was still LDS, after all, and he did his best to not offend her, especially since she was the only member of his family who ever bothered with more than a lousy Christmas card. “And the front of my left thigh. Surfing seems to make it worse.”
“Okay,” she said. “Hang on.” He could hear her talking to Jackson, although she’d obviously put her hand over the mouthpiece because she sounded more like the teacher from the old
Peanuts
cartoons than like his sister. And then she was back. “He says it’s probably your sciatica.”
“
What?
That’s what happens to old people, right? I’m only thirty!”
She didn’t hear him, though. “He says it could also be lumbar related.” She was still listening to Jackson and relaying the information to Levi, pausing in between sentences to wait for the next bit of wisdom. “Or the psoas muscle.” Pause. “He says you could see a doctor—”
“I don’t want a doctor.”
“But your best bet is probably a therapeutic massage.”
“Really?”
“He says, not a fluff and buff.”
“A
what?
”
“He says, find a massage therapist who knows about neuromuscular rehabilitation. He says they’ll have ‘NMR’ after their name.”
“So just get a massage and it’ll be all better?” Levi asked skeptically.
“It’s a massage, Leviticus. How bad can it be?”
“Good point.”
“Okay, back to the survey for Mom. Do you have a boyfriend?”
“Yeah, I have new one almost every week.”
“You know that’s not what I mean. Are you dating anyone?” “Define ‘date.’”
She sighed in exasperation. “I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, Levi. I mean, this is exactly what Mom and Dad are always talking about—”
“Don’t start, Ruth.”
“It’s not just being gay. It’s indul—”
“‘Indulging in the homosexual lifestyle.’ I
know
.”
“So you’re just going to prove them right?”
“They’ve already made up their minds.”
“If you were to settle down with someone and show them it’s not only about sex—”
“Enough, Ruth! If I wanted to hear this lecture, I’d have answered the phone when Mom called.”
She sighed again. “So this is it, Levi? You’re going to work at the bar and surf and have sex with strangers for the rest of your life?”