Private Security

Ryan has been fantasizing about his best friend, Justin ever since he started working nights as a security guard. He puts it down to exhaustion and his lack of time to spend with his girlfriend, Jennifer. But, when he catches Justin in the middle of a theft, he begins to reevaluate if he wants these fantasies to remain just fantasies or bring them to life. (M/M)

Genres: , , ,
Collections: ,
Editor(s): James L. Wolf
Cover Designer(s): Siol na Tine
Cover Art Credits: Photo by Naypong at Shutterstock.
Production Editor(s): Erika L. Firanc
Proofreader(s): Kailin Morgan
Length: Short Story (3,500 Words)
Chapter(s): 2
Publication Date: November 4, 2014
Serialization Date: Upcoming
Archive(d) on (To be Determined)
Tags: , , , ,




Click Here to Read An Excerpt

The job itself wasn’t difficult; the hardest part was staying awake through the night. Every hour he had to make rounds through the warehouse, checking doors and making sure everything that should be locked, remained so. He didn’t dare sleep. If anything happened to the place whilst he was napping he would be fired for not doing the one thing he was paid to do: staying awake and patrolling the grounds. The job might suck, but he didn’t want to lose it.

He was actually in pretty good shape tonight, though. His American Lit. class had been canceled and he had been able to catch a few minutes of sleep this afternoon before the roar of the other students in the hall pulled him from his nap. It was Friday night and he knew he could sleep all day Saturday if he wanted, then maybe catch a few hours with Jenn before he had to be back here. He might actually get laid this weekend.

Maybe, if he did get lucky, these thoughts of Justin would end. It was just his sudden lack of sex that was making him think the things he thought in the shower. He wasn’t really attracted to Justin. Was he?

He shook his head. No, that wasn’t right. Getting off wouldn’t stop these fantasy images of Justin naked before him. These thoughts were as old as his friendship with him. They had started almost immediately after they had met. What is it about him that intrigues me? he wondered.

The warehouse was a monster of a building. Two stories tall and 50,000 square feet of space, the first floor being the actual warehouse, the second housing offices. When he ran his rounds, it took him about 30 minutes to canvass the entire building, upstairs and down.

He finished his first round then went back to the office to finish his coffee and look through his books. He read a few pages of his Psychology textbook then it was time to head out on his rounds again.

The first floor was secure; nothing had changed since he had been there just an hour before. When he got to the second level though, one of the office doors was unlocked. He had checked them earlier and everything had been locked down then, he was sure of it.

“Hello,” he called out, his voice shaking and coming out in barky little squeaks, like a cartoon mouse. Come on, man up, he thought. He nearly kicked himself for announcing his presence. If there were a burglar in the room, did he really think the guy would answer him back? He pulled the flashlight from his belt and swung the yellowish beam around the room. There were four desks, each set up alike. A small lamp on the left corner with a small metal trash can on the floor on the right side of each desk. A file cabinet as long as a delivery van stood in the back of the room. There was a door at the back of the room leading to an inner office, probably a supervisor and this was his (or her) secretarial pool. It stood open, which was another oddity. These were usually closed and locked as was everything else in the warehouse.

Nothing seemed to be disturbed in here, though. Perhaps he had made a mistake and only thought he checked the door earlier. Perhaps the month of sleep deprivation was getting to him. He might feel rested now, but there could be a layer of madness growing in him deep, deep down that even the few hours of rest he got today could not dissipate. Maybe he would need a week of rest after this was all over, or several weeks, to feel like himself again.

The room was silent; he could hear nothing but his own heartbeat, now slowing to normal with the excitement of finding an unlocked door fading to the mundane realization that it was not a burglar, but his own error. What would he do if there really was someone, he wondered. The only weapon the security outfit allowed was a stun gun

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