Summer Thunder

Moves to new cities mean new neighbors. Just across the boulevard from my newly remodeled house lives an unhappy couple, Manny and Alissa Summer. From the second our eyes met, Manny's been seriously flirting with me. I'm Mark Byerly. It's going to be a long, hot summer on Long Island in the Benton Heights neighborhood of West Babylon, New York. Old Victorian-era homes on estate lots in a sparsely populated neighborhood, I think of Manny often, watching him, studying his seemingly perfect masculine form, his bare upper body moving and flexing as he works on his yard. I've messed around with guys before, nothing serious, just sport sex. But this is different. It's electric. The thought of him, touching him, tasting him, taking him, makes the hair stand up all over my body. Like that loud clap of summer thunder too soon after the lightning flashes. That means it's really close. Too close.