Homecoming Read online

  Published by Phaze Books

  Also by Sabrina Luna

  A Warrior's Hope

  This is an explicit and erotic novel intended for the enjoyment of adult readers. Please keep out of the hands of children.

  www.Phaze.com

  Homecoming

  a homoerotic HeatSheet by

  SABRINA LUNA

  Homecoming, Copyright 2008 by Sabrina Luna

  All rights reserved under the International Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. and Pan-American Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imaginationor are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  A Phaze Production Phaze Books 6470A Glenway Avenue, #109 Cincinnati, OH 45211-5222 Phaze is an imprint of Mundania Press, LLC.

  To order additional copies of this book, contact: [email protected] www.Phaze.com

  Cover art © 2007 Kendra Egert, Scrapfairy Designs

  Edited by Judy Doyle

  eBook ISBN-13: 978-1-59426-846-5

  eBook ISBN-10: 1-59426-846-0

  First Edition – January, 2008

  Printed in the United States of America

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

  Dedicated to the loving memory of Kenneth Jason Dowdle

  T he crisp autumn air with its occasional flurries of amber and red leaves is like no other season. It's Homecoming, my favorite time of the year. I'm Jack MacDonald, teacher of World History at Eastmore Academy. It's a private school, well-known for academics, and noted for its strict codes of behavior and discipline.

  At forty-one, I'm one of the youngest male teachers on staff. I still have a full head of hair, even if it's gone salt-and-pepper gray. Thanks to regular visits to the gym, I've also managed to keep lean and fit. And, even though I'm hipper, cooler than the other staff members, my pupils know I'm certainly no pushover. Sure, I'm aware of what they call me behind my back. Mr. MacDiscipline. I've been known to reprimand those unruly ones, the ones who don't behave, just as well as some of the older staff members. I've earned my nickname for enforcing Eastmore's codes as I've instilled my own type of discipline on the more difficult ones. The reason I chose the teaching profession was to help shape thefuture of the next generation …and it's a decision I'm proud of.

  It was a couple of days until the Eastmore Homecoming Alumni Day. This special day was a longstanding tradition at the school. A day for our former pupils to return and lecture to the senior classes. It was also an opportunity to discuss their career choices and what they had been doing for the past years since their own graduations.

  As the head of the Homecoming Alumni Day committee, my planner was already packed with guest speakers. I was surprised when Harriet Goldman, mother of one of my former pupils, telephoned my office late in the afternoon.

  "How are you and Mr. Goldman?" I inquired politely with the phone cradled on my shoulder. I was, as usual, multi-tasking, sorting through papers on my desk while I chatted.

  "We're very excited. Jimmy has come home from Iraq," she chirped merrily into my ear.

  "Oh? I didn't know he had been stationed overseas," I responded casually. "Last I heard, he was in the Army, but I didn't realize—" "Yes, he told us that his unit had a few close calls, but at least he’s

  back and safe." I could sense the relief in her voice. "That's wonderful news," I acknowledged. "I'm very happy to hear

  he's arrived back home." "Yes, well, that's why I'm doing him a favor and calling you." "Me? Why's that, Mrs. Goldman?" "Jimmy will be leaving on a trip soon," she continued. "But, first, he'd like to come to the Homecoming Alumni Day and be a guest speaker for your senior class." "I don't know, Mrs. Goldman. I'm pretty booked up with guests." "He's always spoken very highly of you, Mr. MacDonald. I'm sure it would mean so much to Jimmy to come speak to your classes. Would you please try to work him into the schedule?"

  Even though I repressed my enthusiasm, I was eager to see how James had turned out.It had been five years and, as much as I didn't want to admit it, I was curious too.

  "Well, let me look at the schedule here." I flipped open the notebook and scanned the well-organized time table. Thankfully, I could squeeze him intoan opening for my final class of the day.

  "Alright, I’ll pencil him in. Tell him to be at my class at two o'clock sharp tomorrow afternoon. I'm sure the senior class will be delighted to hear him speak." I too was secretly looking forward to his visit.

  "Thank you so much!" Ms. Goldman gushed. "Jimmy's going to be just thrilled that you’ve managed to work him into the schedule!"

  After we exchanged 'goodbyes', I placed the receiver back into the cradle. With a soft sigh, I sat back, closed my eyes and let the old memories wash over me. James Goldman. Jimmy. I recalled him as an unruly, poorly disciplined boy with a sharp tongue. But he also had a keen wit and a charming smile that made my cock hard just thinking about him.

  Bad boys like James were certainly more of a challenge. And I certainly liked a challenge. I had been firm, but fair with the young man. It had taken several after school reprimands to put him on the straight and narrow path towards graduation. I was glad that, after he'd graduated from Eastmore, James had joined the Army.

  I'd kept my infatuation with James carefully concealed during the years he was my student. I didn't want to lose my job or worse. But, I must confess,I lost my composure one rainy afternoon.

  I was driving home from the Academy in my 1966 Volkswagen Beetle one early spring day. As I rounded the corner near the park, I saw a young man with his shoulders hunched against the pelting rain, walking along the sidewalk. His brisk stride sent the water splashing beneath his tennis shoes. In nothing more than jeans and a white t-shirt, the rain was soaking him. His clothes clung to his youthful body like a second skin. I slowed down as I approached for a better glimpse. To my surprise, it was James. Before I could stop myself, I pulled over to the curb and leaned over, rolling down the passenger window. "Hey, James!" I called out. "Do you need a ride?" The young man stopped and turned his gaze to me. By the look in his eyes, I could tell he was upset. My heart lurched in my chest. Something was wrong, but he merely shook his head, then took another step.

  "You're going to catch a cold in this rain, young man." I pulled the latch and swung open the door. "You'd better get your butt in this car. Now." The firmness of my voice must have struck a cord. Stepping off the curb, he climbed into the Beetle and slammed the door behind him.

  "Thanks, Sir." He mumbled, slumping down in the passenger seat, his arms folded over his chest.

  I pulled away from the curb, heading back down the road, but at a slower pace. "So, where are you headed?" "Nowhere." "Nowhere, huh?" I glanced over at him, frowning. "What's wrong,

  Goldman?" "Nothing, sir." He shrugged, but I didn't believe him. I circled the park, then pulled the Beetle into a parking lot and cut

  off the engine. I turned to face him. "Now, tell me, what's bothering you?" James speared a hand through his dark, matted hair and returned my

  gaze. "I just broke up with Michelle Cooper." He gave a soft sigh. "I had

  to do it." "Oh really?" I leaned back in my seat, surprised by his revelation. James and Michelle had been the talk of the school for several months
. I'd seen them together, hand in hand, at football games and had even caught them smooching in the hallway between classes. They were behaving like typical all-American sweethearts. "So, why did you break up with her?" I ventured to ask.

  "She was pressuring me to…well, you know, go all the way." The rosy-hue of his cheeks tugged at my cock. Just the thought of James still being a virgin sent a ripple of excitement through my body. I drew a deep breath and attempted to curb my rising lust.

  "You weren't ready. There's nothing wrong with that," I nodded compassionately. "A relationship's a big responsibility. You did the right thing, Jimmy. I'm proud of you."

  "No…no, that's not why," he lowered his head. A tuff of wet hair fell forward, hiding his eyes from me. "Do you like another girl?" I was curious. He merely shook his head. "Why?" An uncomfortable silence fell between us. I turned my gaze to the windshield, watching the rain cascade down the glass and blurring the scenery around the parked car as I patiently awaited his answer.

  "I do like girls," James finally spoke. "But, I've figured out that I'm…well, different."

  The way he emphasized 'different' made my heart pound harder in my chest. Memories of my own teenage years came flooding back to me. All of the pain and confusion of my own sexual awakening. "Have you talked to your parents?" "Hell no!" He sharply raised his head, his eyes meeting mine. "I-I

  mean no, sir." "I can relate to what you're going through better than most folks," I assured him with a thin smile. "It's not easy being different. But, one of these days, you'll have to let them know."

  "Please, swear to me you won't say a word to anyone, Mr. MacDonald."

  Empathically, I reached over and patted his knee. "I promise, I won't say anything. It's just between us."

  "I had a feeling you'd understand." His brooding, dark expression dissolved into a smile as he laid a chilly hand over top of mine. There was a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. James had narrowed the space between us. He was so close, I could smell him. The moist aroma of male-musk mingling with the zest of soap teased my senses.

  He angled his head, running his tongue over his lips. Whether the gesture was conscious or not, it sent a shiver of desire down my spine.

  Impulsively, I leaned into him and captured his mouth in a heated kiss. His lips were soft and supple, yet his eager tongue brushed against my lips. Temptation rippled through every fiber of my being. Yielding, I allowed his tongue to slide into my mouth. A low groan rumbled from the back of my throat. He tasted so good. So forbidden. Getting a grip on my spiraling emotions, I pulled away even though

  my body was begging for more than just a kiss. "No," I hissed through clinched teeth. "This isn't right, James. Not

  here. Not now." I sat back in my seat, putting distance between us. I shielded my eyes with a trembling hand, silently cursing myself for stealing a kiss. Even though he'd turned eighteen the previous winter, he was my student. My stomach clutched with nerves. If anyone found out about this, my career would be over.

  After a long, intense moment of silence, James cleared his throat. "Don't worry, Mr. MacDonald. I won't say anything. You keep my secret and I'll keep yours. I promise."

  I lowered my hand from my eyes as I quickly regained my composure. I cast him a quick glance. There was a devilish smile on his youthful face, but there was also sincerity in his eyes. "All right. Fair enough, James." I nodded. "However, that still doesn't excuse you from detention after class tomorrow for being tardy today," I grinned over at him. To my delight, he squirmed against the car seat. His reaction reassured me I still had a measure of control over him. "Now, where can I drop you off?"

  "You can let me out over at the library, Mr. MacDonald. I'm meeting some friends there."

  Silently relieved, I started the car, heading for the library a few blocks up the road. As James climbed out of the Beetle, he flashed me a cheeky grin. "Thanks for the ride, sir. See you tomorrow." Then, he slammed the door and bounded up the steps of the building.

  I watched until he was safely inside and then headed home in a bewildered daze. By the next morning everything was back to normal. He was the rebellious student once again. We both acted as if nothing had happened. However, after that rainy afternoon, I was surprised to find an apple on my desk every day until he graduated. Whether it was a token of affection or a reminder of our kept secrets, I never really knew.

  Now, after five years in the Army, I wondered if he'd seriously changed his mischievous ways—or had he? Honestly, I could hardly wait to find out. * * * * The next day, Eastmore's Homecoming Alumni Day was running along fairly smoothly. My pupils were impressed with the speaker line up. We had already heard from two bankers, a lawyer and one pastry chef, but there was still no GI Jimmy in sight. I was beginning to wonder if he'd show up, then, at a quarter till two, he walked through the classroom door. James Goldman was fresh off an All-You-Can-Be poster as he confidently strolled over to my desk. I rose and shook his extended hand.

  "James, it's good to see you again. You've sure changed!" I couldn't help but smile. It was my wildest dream come true! He had completely morphed from a lanky teenager to a lean, handsome young man.

  "Thank you, Mr. MacDonald, sir." Although his tone was formal and polite, I saw a twinkle in his eyes. "I've been looking forward to seeing you too," he continued as an oddly familiar grin spread across his face.

  Had he really? I wondered. I was mesmerized by James' matured, good looks. He was taller than I remembered, with a well-chiseled physique that filled out the uniform he wore and a very short-cropped head of dark, thick hair. "I'm also excited about sharing my experiences in Iraq with your class today. So, are we ready to get started, sir?" He released my hand and snapped to attention, as if awaiting orders. A hot flash of pure, lusty desire coiled at the base of my spine. I, too, could hardly wait as I struggled to keep my libido in check.

  After I gave the class a brief introduction, I took a seat in the back of the room and let James take the podium. Long gone was the boyish shyness of speaking before an audience. He dazzled the seniors with an account of his tour of duty in Iraq. The teenage girls were swooning in their desks while grins from the guys revealed their enthusiasm for the guest speaker.

  As he spoke, his gaze swept over to where I sat. These were the same eyes that used to glare at me as I reprimanded him. When I used to "get on his case" about his behavioral problems. I had told James that I was reprimanding him for his own good. One day, I assured him, he'd thank me. However, I didn't really expect thanks. Just knowing that he had turned out well was satisfactionenough.

  James' spell was broken by the shrill sound of the afternoon bell. After I officially dismissed class, a few pupils lingered behind. They chatted with him and shook his hand. James handed out a few Army brochures and answered a couple of last minute questions.

  Tiffany Campbell, a pretty blonde from the front row, waited until her classmates had left, then approached James. They chatted a moment, smiling. I couldn't help but overhear their conversation. James, it seemed, had volunteered to chaperone the Homecoming dance later that evening. Tiffany's face lit up as she asked him what he was doing after the dance.

  James stuffed his hands into pockets and grinned. "Oh, nothing much."

  "Well, you know, I turned eighteen last month," she breathlessly confided. Leaning in close, she added with a coy smile, "I was hoping we could maybe get together later. Just me and you? Hmm?" "Uh, Tiffany, that's not a good idea." He blushed. "Why not?" She gave a playful pout. "I really would like to get to

  know you better." "I'm flattered, but there's a saying we have in the Army. 'Don't ask, don't tell.' Do you know what I mean?" James gazed into her eyes with a sympathetic smile.

  Her flirty disposition quickly faded. She realized what he meant. Her lips formed a silent 'o'of surprise as she took a step back from him.

  "Oh, you're gay! Well, it's okay," she shrugged nonchalantly, but there wasa quiver of disappointment in her voice. "I understand. Really."

  "
Thanks for the offer, though," James wrapped up their conversation with a charming grin. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Tiffany."

  I was impressed with how gracefully he had declined the pretty blonde's invitation. Disclosing one's sexual orientation could be a delicate matter. It was good to know that James had accepted his preference and was honest with others, too.

  Smiling with approval, I returned to the front of the classroom and began to erase theblackboard.

  "Mr. MacDonald, sir?" His voice was deeper, huskier than I remembered. I drew a deep breath to calm the mixed emotions that were welling up inside me, then slowly turned to face him. "Yes, Goldman?" The young man before me was not the fresh-faced youth who had stood before me a few years before. The light of the afternoon sun streaming from the window reflected his transformed features. The war and plain ol' hard living had added maturity to his face, but the sly grin was still the same. "I brought you something," he said, digging deep into a brown paper

  bagand pulled a shiny, red apple from its depths. Our fingers lightly brushed as I took the apple from his hand. An erotic current pulsed between us. A drop of perspiration silently slipped its way down the back of my shirt as the empty classroom swelled with a bittersweet uneasiness.

  I drew the apple to my nose and returned his smile. The glossy surface of the forbidden fruit was scented with his essence. My senses reeled beneath my controlled demeanor as I placed the apple on my desk and cleared my throat. "So, Goldman, are you going soft for your ol' teacher?" James' dark eyes met mine, sparkling in the afternoon light. "No, sir. It's quite the opposite," he replied in a deep, low tone and

  dropped his gaze downward. My eyes followed down his torso, my own body responding to the muscle-thickened outline beneath his crisp shirt to where his gaze rested just below his waist. To my dismay, there in the front of his uniform slacks, was an elongated imprint of arousal.

  I drew a sharp breath. Damn! It was then I realized that the fine line that had once held us in check had begun to dissipate.