The Lover (Blazing Hearts) by Kennedy Kovit

Chapter One
    Kaleb Smith walked with a purpose into The Drink —a favorite roadside watering hole of his for years. The red on the door was worn from age, use and weather. It was clear to see where most pressed to enter. There was nearly no paint left there. Kaleb had done his fair share of entering over the years. More than he cared to admit. He wasn’t exactly proud of his sexual appetites so much as he’d come to terms with them long ago.
    He strutted in as if he owned the place. He knew he looked like a man on the prowl because he was. It had been too long between bed partners and his cock was heavy with want. There was only so much jacking off a guy could do before nothing but a wet, tight pussy would do. He’d reached that point.
    His cowboy boots clicked on the worn hardwoo d floor, announcing his arrival. Varying antique pieces of farm equipment adorned the walls of the roadside bar. It was supposed to be art of some sort. It looked like clutter to him, but what did he know? He was hardly what one would call refined. And he’d once heard some Yankee offer up big bucks to purchase an antique right off the wall. He and the other locals grinned, knowing there were at least a half dozen more where that piece had come from, just lying out in the field behind the bar, free for the picking.
    Hell, there were three local businesses that made their money by picking through old broken furniture, slapping obnoxious colors of paint on them —such as turquoise or bright-ass pink—then selling them, barely functioning, for high dollar.
    Northerne rs. Quick to throw good money at junk.
    Rows of tall tables dotted the right side of the establishment. Each had patrons at them, making the bar full, as it normally was in the evening and at night. A vintage jukebox was tucked safely back behind them. The dance floor area was extra worn, a sign of getting its use over the years. Kaleb had done his fair share of cutting a rug on that very floor. Dancing was a lot like sex.
    All in the hips and how you carried yourself.
    There was a stage off to the back left and often local bands played to entertain the patrons. Tonight the only music filling the joint was coming from the jukebox and was about as country as you could get without plucking an actual banjo.
    Kaleb cringed. He liked newer country songs and classic rock. He wasn’t much into the golden days of country—a source of contention between him and many of his friends. He’d put an end to the song playing soon enough. For now he wanted a drink and a piece of arm candy to keep him entertained as he unwound from a busy week. Maybe he’d get lucky and the arm candy he’d find would work for a fuck.
    He ran a hand through his tousled dark hair and glanced around, surveying the scene, looking for his next bed partner.
    Normally he managed to have a lovely lady, or two, in his bed nightly. He always practiced safe sex and was vigilant about keeping up on blood tests. One could never be too careful nowadays. Not with the crazy sex floating around out there.
    The Drink was just far enough out of Middlefield that he didn’t have to worry about running into the ladies he romanced while he was home. He liked clean breaks and wasn’t much into more than a night or two of passion. Besides, he hadn’t met a woman yet who could handle all his baggage and sexual needs. Most got a small taste and couldn’t deal.
    A set of blonde twins were near the jukebox, eyeing him over. They looked familiar , and if he was right, he’d fucked them both before—separately and together. His dick didn’t stir and that was a sure sign their last encounter hadn’t been anything special.
    He tipped his Shady Brady in their direction and continued towards the bar. A drink was in order. If things didn ’t pick up soon at the bar he’d head out to Club K and see what was going on there, but if memory served they were having some sort of theme night and he wasn’t about to show up in jeans and a t-shirt