Jealousy

By GA Hauser

What if the six degrees of separation, became three?
Two men, Greg Thomas and Dax Matthews, meet and become interested in each other.
But they face a huge obstacle- Both men are already enjoying friends with benefits, with other men.
As the pair begins to grow closer, they find the more they know about each other, the more complicated their lives become. Until jealousy rears its ugly head.

Will love in the future move towards pansexuality? Enjoying several partners at the same time?
It sounds good in theory, but for these two men, it’s about to become real.

It doesn’t matter what kind of mask you wear for others, when the façade falls, you have only the face in the mirror to save you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: GA Hauser
• Release date: Jan 5, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370207589

GA Hauser

About the AuthorAuthor G.A. Hauser is from Fair Lawn, New Jersey, USA. She attended university at The Fashion Institute of Technology in NYC, and has a BA in Fine Art from William Paterson College in Wayne NJ where she graduated Cum Laude. As well as degrees in art, G.A. is a Graduate Gemologist from the Gemological Institute of America (GIA). In 1994 G.A. graduated the Washington State Police academy as a Peace Officer for the Seattle Police Department in Washington where she worked on the patrol division. She was awarded Officer of the Month in February 2000 for her work with recovering stolen vehicles and fingerprint matches to auto-theft and bank robbery suspects. After working for the Seattle Police, G.A. moved to Hertfordshire, England where she began to write full length gay romance novels. Now a full-time writer, G.A. has penned over 200 novels and short stories. Breaking into independent film, G. A. was the executive producer for her first feature film, CAPITAL GAMES which included TV star Shane Keough in its cast. CAPITAL GAMES had its Film Festival Premiere at Philly's Qfest, and its television premiere on OutTV. G.A. is the director and executive producer for her second film NAKED DRAGON, which is an interracial gay police/FBI drama filmed in Los Angeles with the outstanding cinematographer, Pete Borosh. (also the Cinematographer for Capital Games)The cover photographs of G.A.'s novels have been selected from talented and prolific photographers such as Dennis Dean, Dan Skinner, Michael Stokes, Tuta Veloso, Hans Withoos, and CJC Photography, as well as graphic comic artist, Arlen Schumer. Her cover designs have featured actors Chris Salvatore, Jeffery Patrick Olson, Tom Wolfe, and models Brian James Bradley, Bryan Feiss, Jimmy Thomas, Andre Flagger, among many others.Her advertisements have been printed in Attitude Magazine, LA Frontier, and Gay Times.G. A. has won awards from All Romance eBooks for Best Author 2009, Best Novel 2008, Mile High, Best Author 2008, Best Novel 2007, Secrets and Misdemeanors, and Best Author 2007.G.A. was the guest speaker at the SLA conference in San Diego, in 2013, where she discussed women writing gay erotica and has attended numerous writers’ conventions across the country.

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JEALOUSY

By

G.A.HAUSER

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © G.A. Hauser, 2017

JEALOUSY

Copyright © G.A. Hauser, 2017

ISBN Trade paperback: 978-1539-9677-3-6

© The G.A. Hauser Collection LLC

This is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or business establishments, events or locales is coincidental.

All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

WARNING

This book contains material that maybe offensive to some: graphic language, homosexual relations, adult situations. Please store your books carefully where they cannot be accessed by underage readers.

First The G.A. Hauser Collection LLC publication:

January 2017

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Chapter 1

Glistening in sweat, Lee Winston relaxed on a bed and caught his breath. It was dim in the room and he could see a pack of cigarettes and a gold lighter on the nightstand. Near it was a white envelope as well as condoms.

He touched his cock as it softened and knew he had to move, stand, do something other than pant.

A shadow was cast from inside the bathroom. He heard the sink run, and then Celeste began putting on her clothing, her red dress and high-heels. She pinned her hair up in a comb-clip and picked up the cigarette pack and lighter.

As she lit a cigarette, Celeste’s face glowed from the flame. She blew out the puff of smoke and tucked the pack and lighter into a silver clutch purse; one with her own fashion-logo on it.

Lee watched as she checked her phone, then she headed to the door.

The room grew silent.

Lee sat upright on the bed, staring at his legs and feet, then his soft cock. His phone hummed with a text. He picked it up. Once he had read the text, he inspected the envelope, counting the cash.

~

Friday evening, Greg Thomas wrapped up his editorial work in his downtown office in Los Angeles. It was the start of a new year, the holidays were behind him, and it felt as if he could breathe again. Once he saved his work for the newspaper, Greg sat back in his leather chair and zoned off. He was tired, but still had intentions of working out. He picked up his phone and sent a text. ‘Are you going to the gym?’

‘Already worked out at home.’

He was disappointed. Greg checked the time; it wasn’t even five o’clock yet. Instead of starting a text war, Greg tucked his phone in his pocket, and swiveled in his chair to be able to stare out of his sixth floor window. It was already growing dark as January hung onto the long nights, unwilling to let go. It didn’t matter. There was nothing he could do about the time, or about much these days. Including the weather.

If you wanted snow in California you simply drove east to the mountains.

And he had, many times, to ski.

A coworker walked by his office. Goodnight, Greg.

Have a good weekend.

You too.

Greg shut off his computer and stood, putting his suit jacket on. He straightened his desk, moved his chair closer to it, and then looked out of his window. Below, in the madness of the commute home, lines of red and white lights appeared to be jewels tossed from a velvet box. When the clouds parted, the dim sun shone briefly over the sky-scrapers, like a Hollywood set design. Lala Land. A bizarre lost city in a culturally diverse state. He was a transplant here, like many others. He had left the Midwest for a better life, a dream. Had he achieved it?

He wasn’t sure.

At least he had a good job.

Greg shut off the light, closed his door, and headed out of the office. As he waited for the elevator, he removed his necktie and opened his shirt collar.

His gym bag was in his car. Going to the gym and avoiding the highway was one way to get out of the worst of the commute. Interstate 405 was usually gridlocked.

He stepped into the elevator with several other office employees, and they rode in what felt like exhausted silence to the parking garage and lobby.

Greg rubbed his palm over his chin stubble, stifling a yawn. With a few others who had parked in the underground lot, which was illuminated by fluorescent tubes and exit signs, Greg fished his key out of his trouser pocket and aimed it at his car. Its lights flashed; a metal wink and a nod for him to come aboard. He opened the trunk and removed his gym bag, then left his suit jacket and tie in the clean carpeted trunk space. He sat down, tossed his bag on the passenger’s seat and headed out.

Light drizzle fell and created glistening reflections; wet roads, wet trees, wet buildings, and wet cars. He didn’t mind the rain. They needed it.

Although the streets were jammed, he made it to the gym in fifteen minutes. Parking was a challenge at this time of the evening, but pay lots were everywhere. He pulled into one he’d used since he’d joined the gym.

Greg carried his workout bag with him, climbing the stairs to the fitness center, and scanning his ID card.

~

Lying back on a bench, the bar resting on the mounts, Dax Matthews adjusted his hands for a better grip. He hoisted the heavy weights up, then did presses, arching his back and grunting as he heaved the two-hundred pound bar.

One more.

With a little help from a man who was waiting to use the bench, Dax managed to do a last repetition. He set the bar down and shook out his arms.

Nice. Are you done?

Yes. Thanks. Do you need a spot?

No. I’ve got it. Thanks. The man removed the plates from the bar for him.

Dax sat up, rubbing his biceps and recuperating. He picked up his towel and bottle of water, drinking the water as he walked across the crowded room. Dax noticed a handsome man also making his way to the row-machines, waiting his turn as they became available.

The hunk gestured for Dax to take the next available one.

Thanks. Dax sat on a machine and used a hand towel to dab his face, then placed it, and his water, aside. Tapping the panel on the exercise equipment, he set it for ten minutes and began to pull the handle, bending his legs, and sliding on the seat.

The handsome man caught his eye.

Dax smiled at him, having seen him here before.

He got a smile back. It wasn’t full of invitation, but he sensed a little flirtation. The rowing, although it made him sweat more, was a way to loosen up his muscles after the beating of the heavy weightlifting.

When the nice looking man took the row machine beside him, which was now available, Dax tried not to annoy him. But, he said, Hey.

Hey.

It was silly to assume every man in the gym was gay… or bi. Or? Curious?

The timer counted down to zero as Dax grew exhausted from the physical effort. He slowed his rowing and thought about his plans for the weekend. With the manic pace of the holidays and New Year’s celebration a memory, Dax felt as if he could unwind and halt the frantic level. So, he had no plans.

The machine finished its program and Dax wiped his face and drank the water. Since he was through with his routine, and it appeared this hunk was just beginning, he smiled and said, Have a good workout.

Thanks. He got a sweet smile.

Dax stood and considerately cleaned the machine, then took one last look at the hottie and said to himself, What the hell. He introduced himself, I’m Dax Matthews.

The man released one hand on the pulley and extended it. Greg Thomas.

Greg. Nice to meet you. Dax released the firm handshake. It grew awkward. Right. I’ll let you get to it.

Hang on.

Dax draped his hand-towel behind his neck and held his empty water bottle.

Greg ended the rowing workout and stood next to Dax. I know I’ve seen you here before. Do you train daily?

Three or four times a week. You? Dax admired Greg’s chocolate brown eyes and dark beard growth.

I do the same. What time do you usually get here?

Four-thirty-ish. I try to beat the five o’clock rush. I’m usually out of here by now. Dax dabbed at his temple with the towel.

Greg nodded, then seemed to be thinking, or maybe zoning out.

Do you want to get a drink sometime? Dax threw it out there.

~

That was a good question.

And Greg didn’t know the answer. As he struggled for a reply to a straight forward question, Greg’s mind began to race.

No problem. Dax held up his hand as if he sensed the hesitation. I didn’t mean for this to get complicated. He stepped back. Later.

Greg watched Dax walk away and tried to think. There’s no harm in having a friend. He jogged toward him. Dax.

Dax paused and looked at him.

Why don’t you take my number?

A smile brightened Dax’s face. He thumbed to the locker room. Let me change and I’ll meet up with you when I have my phone.

Cool.

He got another sweet smile, and Dax entered the men’s locker room. Greg stood for a moment, deep in thought, then headed to the free-weights to continue his workout.

~

After a shower, Lee got dressed and checked his phone. Nothing more from Greg.

He gave the hotel room a quick inspection, had collected all his belongings, and left. He used the staircase and felt the cool evening air and light drizzle, as he located his Porsche in the parking lot. He aimed his key-fob at it, and sat behind the wheel, then drove to Beverly Hills to catch dinner before heading home.

He wanted to send Celeste a text message, but didn’t. By now, she may be with her husband.

Her husband.

Tripp Brown.

Lee stopped his car at the valet service and the door was opened for him. He took the ticket, pocketed it, and headed inside. The noise level was high since it was a Friday night. Lee entered the bar and it was standing-room only.

He ran his hand over his hair, and then managed to get the bartender’s attention. Dirty martini, Lee said.

With a nod, the bartender acknowledged him.

Lee had a look at the tables and booths around him, and met the gaze of pretty brown eyes. He smiled.

She smiled back.

Bingo.

Lee paid the bartender and sipped his drink as he made his way to his admirer. She was dining with friend. How’s your night going? he asked.

Good.

Better now.

Lee held up his drink in a toast.

Would you care to join us?

I would. Thank you. Lee took a seat with the attractive women, and put his cocktail glass aside. Lee Winston. He extended his hand to each.

I’m Marla.

Candice.

Nice to meet you. Lee backed up as a waiter approached.

Will you be dining, sir?

I will. Lee sat back as silverware wrapped in a cloth napkin was placed before him. He picked up a menu. Have you ladies already decided?

We have. But we haven’t ordered yet, Candice said.

I’ll give you a minute. The waiter prepared to leave.

Not so fast. Lee called him back. If the ladies are ready, please. He gestured for them to order.

They appeared grateful he was so considerate.

Lee knew in busy bars like this, getting served wasn’t going to be quick, or easy. But, lucky for him, he was both.

~

Showered and dressed in clean clothing, Dax checked his appearance and then held his phone as he returned to the workout room to find Greg. They smiled at each other and Dax approached him.

Greg set down the heavy barbells he was doing curls with and used the tail of his shirt to wipe his face. Dax got a nice view of Greg’s six-pack abs.

You look spectacular.

Thanks. I try. Greg smiled.

You succeed. Dax told himself to rein it in. Okay, give me your number when ready. He held up his phone. As Greg stated it, Dax entered it into his contacts. Got it.

Greg shifted his weight, as if he may be either tired or anxious.

You… uh, have plans? I mean, for tonight.

I was just going to head home. What do you have in mind?

Greg dabbed at a running bead of sweat on his temple.

Uh… Dax sensed something from Greg, making him hesitate. Look, it’s okay—

No. I mean, you’re asking me out for a drink. Or dinner?

Yes. Reading a little barrier between the lines, Dax figured Greg was either straight, and hopefully curious, or… in a relationship.

But, I need time. I mean, to finish up… Greg seemed apologetic.

Dax wasn’t desperate for a companion, and had already resigned himself to a relaxing evening in front of the TV. Hey, don’t worry. He tried to end this weird obligation.

No. I’m into it. Can you give me an hour?

Dax looked at his phone. It was only six-thirty. Sure. Where would you like to meet?

The Abbey?

Perfect. I’ll try to get there a little early, since it’s going to be mobbed. Gay. He has to be gay, right? A West Hollywood iconic spot?

I’ll text you when I’m on my way. Send me your details.

Dax called Greg’s number. Done. He gave him a smile. See ya.

See ya.

As Dax left, he figured even if Greg flaked out, he could get a quick bite and then go home to relax. He held his gym bag over his shoulder and descended the outside stairs to the street. The light drizzle had let up and it was windy with cool air coming from the coast.

He tossed his bag into his trunk and sat down behind the wheel, headed home first, then, to meet this intriguing man.

Twenty minutes later, Dax waited for the security gate to roll back for his apartment house. He spotted a familiar car and then a man exiting it. Before Dax drove into the underground parking lot, he rolled his window down.

Did we have plans? Dax asked him.

Why? Are you busy? Tripp tapped a cigarette out of his pack.

Hang on. Dax continued to drive under the apartment house to his reserved spot. In his side mirror he could see Tripp, still in his business suit, smoking as he lingered near Dax’s car. Dax climbed out, took his gym bag from the trunk, and armed his car with his key-fob. He stood with Tripp and as Tripp smoked he caught the sight of the wedding band on Tripp’s finger. I made plans for dinner. Dax swung his gym bag, slightly intimidated by this older man.

"It’s