JP Barnaby is visiting my humble blog.
JP has a short story she’d like to share today. The story, A Source of Inspiration Part 1, has an accompanying audio recording that’s available here: https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/18662024/XO%20ASourceOfInspiration1%202012-04-27.mp3
Here’s the text:
A Source of Inspiration
Part One: The Idol
By J. P. Barnaby
Excitement pulsed in my veins as I watched the clock on the register and waited for him to arrive. Trading shifts with Justin, the little prick, had cost me three Saturdays off, but to see Benjamin Foster signing books at my bookstore on my shift was worth any price – even missing my freshman composition class, which had already started. As a staff member, I would be able to assist my favorite author with what he needed in order to do the signing…whatever he needed. Mr. Foster’s assistant had scheduled the event for 2:00, just twenty more minutes, which meant that the man himself should be arriving at any time.
My cock swelled a bit in anticipation.
To say that Benjamin Foster was attractive seemed to be like comparing Kool-Aid to fine wine, or maybe a VW Beetle to a BMW. The analogy was wholly inadequate. Bronze-colored curls interspersed with gray locks that were just long enough to catch the light in his picture on the book jacket for Hard Vengeance. Deep, sexy, cobalt eyes offered a bedroom gaze from behind alluring glasses. But, his lips generally drew far too much of my attention. My attraction for him didn’t rest solely on his looks, , but also encompassed the sensual, erotic way in which he wrote his characters. The sex steamed the pages, but the depth of the characters made each moment hotter. I found myself rereading passages from dog-eared paperbacks before turning out the lights and fisting my cock beneath the sheets.
Stacking the books he would sign, I hid behind them for a long moment while I tried to will my erection away. I couldn’t face the Benjamin Foster with wood. As the bell on the front door rang, I considered going back to the employee lounge to get some ice from the freezer. When I walked around the table to head in that direction, I slammed into a hard body. The apology flew out of my mouth on the wind knocked from me by the impact. Grabbing ahold of the man I’d just sent hurtling toward the floor, I was able to keep us both upright.
Those fathomless blue eyes stared back at me as I looked into the man’s face.
“Mr. Foster, I am so sorry,” Rod, my manager, said as he succeeded in knocking me to the floor so that I sprawled at Benjamin Foster’s feet. My face burned as I rolled onto my back, off the knee that had slammed into the hardwood floor. To my surprise, Mr. Foster brushed Rod off with a wave of his hand before holding it out to me. It was his writing hand. I nearly creamed my shorts.
“Th…thank you, Mr. Foster,” I murmured once I stood upright. Maybe it was my imagination, but it seemed to take the author a long time to let go of my hand. Instead of releasing it, he pumped it up and down slowly.
“I’m Ben Foster, and you are?” he asked with a smile that warmed me from the inside out. The fine lines around his eyes crinkled a little, but rather than giving the impression of age, they made me think more of maturity. It may have been a gimmick because of his celebrity, but it honestly seemed like he was interested in the answer to that question.
“Mitch… Mitch Kirby,” I responded with a shy smile of my own. It took a minute for me to realize that I hadn’t let go of his hand. But then, he hadn’t let go of mine either. As Rod cleared his throat, I pulled my hand back and saw my reluctance to break our contact mirrored on Ben’s face.
“Mr. Foster, is there anything I can do to help you set up for your signing?” I asked, silently praying to whatever god I could find that he had something that needed my personal attention.
“There is, actually, Mitch. If you could sit here with me and open the books to the title page for me, I’d appreciate that,” he said with a glance over at Rod, who scowled. If I sat in on the signing, he would have to run the register.
“Rod, is that alright?” I asked out of courtesy, but really, Ben had sealed it with his request. No way would Rod deny an author anything if he could help it, especially one as big as Ben Foster.
“Yeah, I’ll take the counter,” he answered, and I felt some smug satisfaction that his voice sounded petulant. Most days Rod and I got along fine, but my right then I couldn’t be too cordial because body ached from its quick and somewhat violent contact with the floor.
“Oh my God! It’s Benjamin Foster.” The not-so-subtle whisper came from a small contingent of women who had formed a line as we stood talking. They maintained a respectful distance from the signing table, but watched us closely. The woman in front, a busty brunette, wore a T-shirt with a Twitter username, probably hoping that the author would recognize her. Only, he wasn’t looking at them.
He was looking at me.
When our eyes met, he smiled as if he’d been caught doing something naughty. My cock stirred again at his look of mischief. I couldn’t explain it, but it felt to me like those intensely blue eyes made everything else in the room disappear. I could focus only on him.
“The natives are getting restless,” he commented with a wink. “I think we should probably get started. Come and sit here on my left. Just open the books to the title page and hold them flat so I can sign.” I sat next to him at the table, but glanced over my shoulder at the employee lounge because I wanted to go and grab the paperback sitting in my locker. He saw me looking and furrowed his brow.
“I have a book in my locker, I…well, I kind of wanted you to sign. I love your books,” I said in a rush and felt the blood rush once again to my face. The room seemed to have warmed considerably in the last few seconds.
I nearly choked when his hand slid up my thigh just inches from my crotch as he leaned over and whispered in my ear.
“Once we get through this afternoon and the fans have left, I’ll sign whatever your heart desires.” The subtle need in his voice brought my cock to full attention, and the sudden arousal made me a little light-headed. I didn’t have time to respond, because at that moment, he called over the first fan to sign her book.
For the next three hours, I sat next to one of the sexiest men I’d ever met. His leg brushed mine frequently as he shifted on his chair, which kept me at least half-hard for most of the afternoon. My balls ached by the time he finished writing his name in the last book with a flourish. Sweet-talking the woman as she giggled, he handed her the book and watched as she went back to join her friends, who waited near the Science Fiction section.
“Would you mind if I went to get my copy of Hard Vengeance?” I asked as I turned slightly in my seat to look at Benjamin. He faced me in his chair and once again rested his hand on my thigh. The heat from his palm burned right through my work pants, and I took a shaky breath.
“Of course, I’d love to sign your book. I was wondering if I could sign it in my suite, maybe over dinner,” he murmured, and my dick went from interested to needy. “What time do you get off?” At the words “get off,” it went from needy to throbbing. As he glanced around the almost empty bookstore, he slid his hand off my thigh and grazed my erection with the back of his hand.
“It seems as though your cock kind of likes that idea,” he observed in a whisper. I loved the way his breath felt on my neck as he said it. Tiny little hairs stood on end, and I shivered even as I nodded.
“My shift ends at five,” I told him quietly, not having any idea of the time. He looked down at his watch and grinned.
“So, about ten minutes ago then,” he said, and I thanked sweet baby Jesus. “I’m going to get my car out of the lot, and I’ll pick you up out front.”
I simply nodded again, dumbstruck. The whole situation was just fucking surreal. Benjamin Foster, the Benjamin Foster, whose books I spent more time jacking off to than any online porn, wanted to take me to his hotel room. I sure as hell wasn’t going to pass up that chance.
“I’ll be ready,” I assured him as I pulled my company-issued polo shirt out of my pants to cover the bulge in them. At eighteen, just about everything got me hard. Normally I could calm myself down, but not then. No way would I be able to calm down with the idea of being fucked by Benjamin Foster first and foremost in my mind.
My cock throbbed again.
He winked at me as he went up to thank Rod for allowing him to hold his signing and to exchange all the normal pleasantries. I practically ran to the employee break room. My Sketchers squeaked as I came to a stop in front of my locker. The lock didn’t open on the first try, but I took it slower the second time and finally it popped open. I’d have skipped grabbing my jacket if that’s all I needed, but I also wanted my book. After I’d picked it up the day it came out, I had read it a dozen times, and the worn binding made that pretty obvious.
I waved at Rod and Pete, who had come in for the evening shift. They waved back, and I practically skipped out into the autumn sunshine. A blue Camry sat waiting at the curb. I peeked in to make sure Benjamin sat behind the wheel and then climbed in. He looked around quickly before putting a hand on my cheek. Tilting my face toward him, his lips claimed mine in a slow, probing kiss. I felt him moan into my mouth and nearly came in my pants.
“God,” he whispered as he broke the kiss and rested his forehead against mine. “You are absolutely gorgeous.” I left my forehead pressed against his and just sat in the seat feeling stunned. No one had ever called me that before. I took the initiative, buried my fingers in his short curls, and kissed him back. As I kissed him, I slid my hand down into his lap and rubbed the front of his black pants. I hid my smirk as he groaned and broke the kiss.
“You’re sure?” he asked between heavy breaths.
“I want you to take me back to your suite and fuck me,” I whispered so that there would be no question as to why I’d gone with him.
“Buckle up,” he said and shoved the car into gear. The tires squealed a bit as he pulled out into traffic, and I laughed. It felt so good to be wanted like that. None of the guys my age really paid much attention to me, and Benjamin was sophisticated and sexy and beautiful.
Award winning romance novelist, J. P. Barnaby has penned over a dozen books including the Working Boys series, the Little Boy Lost series, In the Absence of Monsters, and Aaron. As a bisexual woman, J.P. is a proud member of the GLBT community both online and in her small town on the outskirts of Chicago. A member of Mensa, she is described as brilliant but troubled, sweet but introverted, and talented but deviant. She spends her days writing software and her nights writing erotica, which is, of course, far more interesting. The spare time that she carves out between her career and her novels is spent reading about the concept of love, which, like some of her characters, she has never quite figured out for herself.
Web site: http://www.JPBarnaby.com
Thanks so much for stopping by today JP!