Loveseat

By KT Morrison

Tommy Travis has it all. A booming career, a big house with a swimming pool, a brand-new Corvette, a smoking hot wife, two macho little boys who are chips off the old block.

Tommy loves his little Sukie, the dutiful mother of his two boys and capable president of the Travis household. She’s a sexy little something, that’s for sure.

He met Sukie when he was at university and she was at community college getting her massage therapist’s ticket. Now that the boys are out of the house and going to school, Sukie set up a private practice out of the cabana by the pool. She’s got a good thing going.

But when Sukie takes on a new client, Tommy’s palms begin to sweat. Dio Megalos. His boss. A rich, fit, and handsome guy ten years younger than him. The kind of guy that all hot-blooded girls dream about and he knows his wife’s got eyes in her head. Two times a week she’s going to be putting her oily hands all over his boss’s bare and muscular body?

Not on Tommy’s watch. No way. Except he trusts her, doesn’t he? Who’s better for Sukie than her big Tommy? And there’s a little tickle deep down that kinda likes it. Thinking of Sukie with another man brings out old Tommy, and old Tommy was aggressive, competitive. Old Tommy was a laser-focused shark that built himself up from nothing...

What’s the harm in a little fantasy?

• Language: English
• Publisher: KT Morrison
• Release date: Mar 12, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463386033

KT Morrison

KT Morrison writes stories about women who fall in love with sexy men who aren't their husband, and loving relationships that go too far—couples who open a mysterious door, then struggle to get it closed as trouble pushes through the threshold.

Book preview

1

Squash

Monday, September 4

Tommy hadn’t played racquetball in about nine years, give or take. Used to play with Pero Stancik, owner of Seventh Ward Haulage, back when he sold custom-made quad-axle super dumps for him. Weird, he thought back then, that this big old ape of a man from the Eastern Bloc who ran a haulage company would play such a pampered sport. But Pero could play despite his bulk. Couldn’t beat Tommy though. Of course, back then, Tommy was around Dio’s age now.

Don’t give up on that ball, Tommy, Dio yelled.

"I never … give up," Tommy grunted, slamming into the plexiglass wall face first, but not before whipping a forearm across himself to smash the ball behind.

The ball rocketed back, low to the ground, and Dio was all over it, slicing his racket from low to high like his wicked golf swing. Tommy was bouncing off the glass, pivoting, shoes squeaking madly, dashing across the court. He hit a backhand, the racket coming very close to hitting Dio’s shoulder.

The ball went off the wall, coming back with a spin, and Dio was running crossways over the court, putting an elbow into Tommy. Tommy shoved him back.

Dio smacked it with a backhand, tumbling into the side wall. It got Tommy running, and he went cross-court and had to dive.

Dio shouted Get that plum, and was already back at center court. Tommy nailed it, hit the wall, but he landed in a twisted heap in the alley and felt a twinge in his shoulder. Dio scored the point.

He lay on the floor, heart pounding faster than he’d ever heard it, blurry eyes looking up at all these rubber dash marks on the white walls. Dio’s squeaky footsteps echoed as he came to him.

What’s the matter old man? Somebody kick out your walker?

Tommy rolled to his back and sat up. Dio held out a hand to help Tommy stand, and while Dio was smiling, Tommy thought about getting him with a heel strike right under his kneecap, bring him down to size, get this rich kid on the floor and see who needs a fucking walker …

Tommy held his hand out and as Dio reached for it, Tommy yanked his hand back, rolled forward and stood up. His knees popped.

They were having a friendly lunchtime racquetball game at the Druid Hill Athletic Club in a comfortable part of Atlanta. Dio’s private membership club. The place had an Olympic pool, two basketball courts, tennis courts (indoor and outdoor), racquetball, a full-size gym … He didn’t know what Dio paid to be a member but it had to be high enough to keep the riffraff out. Checking into the place was like checking in at a five-star hotel, complete with concierge and towel service.

Dio clapped Tommy on the back, said, Hey Tommy, you got an app for your pacemaker? You know, maybe check on it make sure you’re not overdoing it.

Tommy stood up straight, face streaming sweat—but so was Dio’s. Dio was a good player but a better shit-talker. The kid was huffing as well, his face shining, chin and nose dripping sweat; his grey T-shirt stained darkly all down the back, around his neck and his armpits, even down his stomach, too.

Pacemaker? My heart pumps rocket fuel, he said, tapping Dio’s chest on each syllable with the end of his racket. He added: Party boy.

That got him. Didn’t wipe the smile off his face, but his eyes narrowed. Dio hated not to be taken seriously. Now the game was on.

---

Half an hour later, they were both sitting on the polished maple floor, Dio with his back at the sidewall, Tommy with his back to the cool glass. Both of them breathing heavy, forearms over knees, holding their water bottles, too exhausted to take a drink; their shirts were completely soaked.

Huffing breath, Dio said, Want to … grab a … bite to eat, old man?

This old man shit was new, and he needed to knock it off soon.

Tommy slowly checked his watch, said, I gotta … get out … to Cedartown, do some … some handholding. Those guys at … Copernicus got some questions. I’ll give them answers … when I’m done I can … guarantee you they’re gonna buy … another cone crusher. With great effort, he raised the bottle of water and chugged almost three quarters of it, resisting the urge to dump the rest over his head and let it run down his back.

Dio took the opportunity to do the same, almost emptying his bottle, then letting his head fall forward like he was blacking out. You’re my man … Tommy boy, he panted. A quick bite, buddy? Beer … and a clubhouse? The chef does it … with pea meal and maple … maple mustard. What do you say? Now his head came back and thumped the wall, looking at Tommy.

He was torn. He was hungry as shit. But his ego was bruised and right now the idea of being on the road with the top-down seemed pretty good. Put some distance between him and Dio. He’d won the first game 15-14. Was feeling pretty good, then Dio came back hard. He won the second game 12-15. They went to three, Dio taking the match at 11-9. Tommy hated losing. Absolutely fucking grade A-1 hated losing. But Dio was his boss.

Yeah, all right, Dio. Let’s … get some lunch …

---

It took a while for them to get their shit together, the two of them gradually kneeling, then standing, leaning on the wall, trying to make comprehensible chit-chat while their cardio systems returned down to regular function. Fast recovery was a sign of a good system, and Tommy was first to recover, get to the door and hold it for Dio. Whether he was ready to or not.

Now they were walking the carpeted hall and into the high, open lobby. On their left side they passed a half stone wall, glass above that soared to the cathedral top. On the other side of the glass was the club’s restaurant, maintained by a starred chef. Lots of well-mannered people gathered at nicely appointed tables eating lunch and drinking beer.

As they walked past—headed to the change room, rackets under their arms, still dripping sweat—Tommy asked, When did you join here? The last time Tommy went to the gym with Dio it was at a Wayfair Club. Nice, but not elite.

Dio said, I don’t know. I guess about a month ago. Maybe three weeks. I let my old club expire and I wanted to get back in shape. I wanted something better than what they offer at my condo. And you’re making me so much money, he said, smiling and rolling his eyes around to take in the athletic club’s extravagance.

You were in shape, buddy, Tommy said.

Dio said, Yeah, but I’ve been in better.

Haven’t we all?

Dio said, But you’re married.

That’s right, I guess you’re back on the market.

Gotta look my best, Dio said cocking his head and winking.

Like look your best when you strip down naked in front of my wife? Want to look good for Sukie? They bumped through the double swing doors into the men’s locker room.

Dio was coming out of a fairly long term relationship with a model. Lasted almost a year with that one. And before that, Tommy was pretty sure he’d been with the other girl for a while, too. At least half a year. Dio had been around Megalos almost as long as Tommy. The kid had come in fresh out of University, Georgia State, just like Tommy. First, he bounced around the company for three years, fitting into all the departments, learning the ropes, sometimes working at his father’s side and other times working on independent projects. Then two years ago, around the time that Dio’s dad had a heart complication, Dio was appointed VP of Sales. It wasn’t like Tommy didn’t see it coming. You couldn’t complain. His dad owned the company, and it wasn’t like Dio didn’t hustle. The kid wanted to be successful.

In that time Tommy had worked more closely with him, Dio didn’t seem like the kind of guy to sleep around, though it would be expected, given his looks and his privilege. And he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would sleep with another man’s wife, let alone a guy he called his friend. Dio was full of surprises.

They passed through the wide hall leading into the lockers, making way for about eight guys with headbands, middle-aged white dudes on their way to play basketball. They got to their lockers and opened them, Tommy’s guest locker on the opposite side of a walnut bench between them.

Tommy said, Too bad about Maria. Thought she was a keeper. She wasn’t the one, huh?

Dio stripped off his sopping shirt, threw it into his laundry bag. He said, "Nah. I was with her a long time. You know, after a while though, things get … things get stale." He slipped his athletic shorts down, turned to throw them in the bag with his shirt. He was naked except for his jock, but Tommy saw him from behind. When they changed into their sweats Dio had also been polite enough to keep that weapon hidden.

Tommy took off his clothes as well, said, You got bored?

Dio grabbed his towel, said, Bored? No. I like to keep a girl hopping. Try to keep the boredom out of the way. Turns out Maria … Maria was a bit of a prude.

Dio turned now, closed up his locker. Tommy grabbed his towel, turned to see Dio standing naked before him, a towel held at his hip. Tommy had seen it all before, but from afar. Here Dio was, presented to him as his wife would see it. Up close and personal. He was a specimen, and Tommy’s stomach flipped knowing his wife had run her hands over every square inch of this man. From between his toes, under his balls, under his fucking foreskin, all the way up to his scalp.

Tommy cleared his throat, said, A prude?

Dio cocked his head, squinted. You know what I mean.

Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. But this was a new entanglement, and it got his heart pumping. Was Dio some kind of freak? I mean this was a little puzzle piece that fit in nicely with the ones he already had. Dio was a grown man, and he masturbated on the pool deck while Sukie was in the house. He was a freak, wasn’t he? Tommy wondered what kind of things he tried on that smoke show Maria that he was dating. She was a ten out of ten. Tall and long-legged. A fashion model. The things he must’ve done to her. Tommy’s heart was racing thinking about what that thing was that Dio tried and Maria threw her hands up and just couldn’t be with him anymore. And then that same idea of the tables turned, Dio trying that thing out on Sukie and Sukie liking it, begging for him to do it again. Had to push the thought away, the two of them walking naked now to the men’s showers.

---

In the shower together, they didn’t talk. Just sudsed themselves up, lost in their own shit. They weren’t alone, there were other men in there as well, and Dio stood under a shower head on the opposite wall and over two. While Tommy scrubbed his hair, he took a look at Dio. This hotshot playboy. His good looks, that body, that equipment. Tommy’s little Sukie deserved that. She was sweet as pie; she had a little tiger in her cage and he knew it was there. He’d love to see that come out. Love to see her scratch her nails all over this kid for real. It would be a real treat for her. One for him as well, he wasn’t gonna act like this had nothing to do with him—he wanted to watch it real bad.

Dio had both hands up, lathering shampoo through that thick head of hair. Tommy could see the guy had been hitting the gym harder these last four weeks, and that he’d been watching his diet. With his arms up over his head, there was a ripple of ridged muscle at his midsection, visible under his body hair. All his muscles popped, the line where his shoulder muscle met his bicep was starker and more pronounced now. White suds gathered in his pubic hair and slid down his dangling member. That thing swung between his legs, almost halfway to his knee. This stud was built for fucking. On top of it all, he’d been gifted a successful corporation and a whopper of a trust fund. How could one young man be blessed with so much?

When they were done, they walked back to the lockers, drying off as they went. Tommy stood in front of his open locker getting dressed and now he watched Dio standing completely naked by the mirrors over the sink, using a blow dryer to brush his oily hair back from his face, that big thing swinging between his legs. A real hot shot. He squirted product in his hand and combed his hair back.

Tommy sat down with his pants and shirt on, looking to pull the socks up his feet, Dio rejoined him. He opened the locker, brought out his deodorant, said to Tommy, How’s that shoulder? You tweak it?

Tommy said, When I dove for that plum?

It was a plum, alright.

Yeah, it’s fine, Tommy said.

Dio stood boldly naked in front of him, one arm up, the opposite hand whisking a Speed Stick up and down his hairy armpit, and his dick swung from left to right, tapping his thighs, right by Tommy’s face. He said, "You oughtta get that little wife of yours to take a look at it.