All Man by Jay Northcote Page A

to talk to Shelley.
    “I’m done for today. I’ll see you again on Monday to finish the job.”
    He was standing close to Jules, and as he spoke, he lifted his arm to mop his brow. Jules caught the warm musky scent of his sweat. He even smelled good. It was so unfair. Surely there must be something unappealing about him. Maybe he had really gross feet?
    “Okay, Gareth. Thanks. Have a good weekend,” Shelley was saying.
    Jules had zoned out staring at Gareth, desperately trying to find a flaw that would make this Adonis more human. At easily over six feet tall, he towered over Jules who was five foot eight-and-a-half (the half was very important). Gareth’s skin was tanned and his body was a solid bulk of muscle with just the right amount of padding. Jules bet he’d be awesome to cuddle. His hair was dark and cut close to his scalp. Jules guessed maybe it was because he was thinning a bit—he must be at least thirty—but that did nothing to make him less attractive to Jules. He loved a buzz cut, especially when teamed with all that glorious dark stubble.
    Jules suddenly realised Gareth was talking to him. “Bye, Jules,” he was saying with a smile.
    “Bye.” Jules ran a self-conscious hand through his own light brown hair where it grew long on top. He grinned, trying not to flirt too outrageously. It made most straight guys uncomfortable. “See you Monday.”
    When Gareth turned to leave, Jules noticed a darker patch on the back of his head where the hair was a little longer than the rest of it. The words were out of his mouth before he had time to change his mind.
    “Oh, Gareth. You must have missed a patch when you trimmed your hair last—I assume you do it yourself? Those bits at the back are always hard to get.”
    Gareth stopped and turned, instinctively lifting his hand to his head, feeling for what Jules was referring to. A dark thatch of armpit hair was visible poking out of the sleeve of his T-shirt and Jules wanted to bury his nose in it and sniff like a dog. “Yeah,” Gareth said. “I do it with my beard trimmer. I use two mirrors to try and make sure I’ve got it all… but sometimes I mess up.”
    “Want me to get it for you now?” Jules offered. “It won’t take a second.” The mere thought of getting to touch Gareth made his cock tingle. He willed it to behave. The skin-tight black jeans he wore for work wouldn’t do a good job of hiding it if it stood to attention.
    “Are you sure? I don’t want to hold you up from anything else you should be doing.”
    “It’s fine. You don’t mind, do you Shelley?”
    “Not at all, love. Be my guest.” There was a glint of knowing amusement in Shelley’s eyes, but her voice was carefully neutral. Jules smiled gratefully.
    “Take a seat over here then, and I’ll go and get a gown and the clippers.” Jules gestured to one of the black leather chairs.
    When he returned, he put the gown on Gareth and fastened the Velcro carefully around his neck. God he was powerful. He had shoulders like a bull. His skin was warm against Jules’s fingertips and slightly flushed. Maybe he was embarrassed at the unexpected attention he was getting.
    Jules met Gareth’s gaze in the mirror, noticing his eyes were a beautiful shade of golden-brown, like maple syrup. “Do you normally do it grade two?” he asked.
    “Yeah.”
    “Okay. It looks like it’s grown out a little so I’ll do your whole head to make sure it’s even.”
    Jules set the clippers accordingly. His heart was pounding and his hands trembled a little as he flipped the switch. The vibration was oddly soothing in its familiarity. He’d done this a hundred times before but never for a man he was this attracted to.
    He tilted Gareth’s head forward gently and started at the nape of his neck, drawing the clippers up in smooth strokes, following the contours of his skull. With something to concentrate on, he relaxed a little. Gareth was pliant, letting Jules move his head. Jules leaned in a