My Wicked Trainers (A Club Wicked Spring Fling) by Ann Mayburn Page A

posh entrance. Liam still felt out of place every time he walked into their apartment building with its marble foyer and priceless works of original art hanging on the walls.
    As they passed Joe, one of the nighttime security guards, Rory ran over and jumped up on his desk, striking an exaggerated victorious pose with his arms thrust into the air in a V. “Joe! We won!”
    Laughing, Joe shook his head and made a shooing motion. “So I heard. Scored the winning points, didn’t ya?”
    Dragging his friend off Joe’s desk, Liam grinned at the security guard. “That we did.”
    “You boys made us proud today. Now get yer arses into yer apartment before Mrs. Stemple comes down here and has a heart attack.”
    All three men winced at the mention of the elderly woman with a sharp tongue and yappy dogs. Liam and Rory took the two flights of stairs up to their apartment, too impatient to wait for the elevator that Rory swore smelled like a combination of old lady and Indian food, though Liam couldn’t smell anything wrong with it. They reached their apartment, and Liam tried to keep from laughing as Rory pretended to hump a large potted palm tree that graced the end of the hallway. Their apartment took up one half of the floor. The other half was occupied by their neighbor, who was frequently out of town on business trips. Once the door was open, Liam shoved Rory in and shut the door behind him with a sigh, glad they’d made it home without anyone being arrested. Then again Rory could probably charm them out of any trouble they got into. He’d frequently done that in the past.
    “Oi, I stink like that cow-shit farm of yours. I’m going to take a shower.”
    Used to his friend’s jabs about Liam’s rural upbringing, he pretty much ignored Rory and responded with his usual comeback. “Go make yerself all pretty for me, baby. You know I like it when you smell like flowers.”
    “Fuck you.”
    While Rory took a quick shower, Liam flipped through channels on the wide-screen telly. He came across a porn channel and of course stopped to watch it, tossing the remote onto the glass coffee table in front of him. He could no more resist looking at a pussy than he could stop breathing. Soon enough he got an uncomfortable erection that tented the front of his loose, silky athletic shorts. The slam of Rory’s bedroom door had Liam grabbing a pillow to put over his crotch, which didn’t give him time to also change the channel.
    Rory laughed from somewhere behind him. “I’ve seen this one about twenty times. There’s a scene coming up where that bird gives awesome head.”
    Trying to act casual, Liam relaxed back against the sofa. “Really?”
    “Oh yeah.”
    Rory sat on the opposite end of the couch, and Liam noticed how good his friend looked. Sure, the girls always flocked to Rory because of his piercing blue eyes and chiseled features, and sure, Liam had often wished that he had his friend’s overabundance of charm and charisma, but he’d never really looked at Rory as anything other than his best friend. Now, for some reason, Liam could understand why the girls were so attracted to his friend. Rory certainly looked better than the guy currently eating the woman’s cunt in the movie.
    Rory hadn’t bothered to put a shirt on, just his shorts. The scent of a cedar-based soap reached Liam’s nose, and he took in how developed Rory’s abdominal muscles were and the strength of his calves. The loud moan of the woman orgasming on the screen filled the room, and Liam’s body clenched tight with need.
    His friend shifted. Liam immediately looked away, mentally cursing himself. What the fuck was he doing? He wasn’t a fag, and he didn’t like guys. Not that he had anything against gay guys, but in the rural village where he’d grown up, anyone who even vaguely exhibited any signs of being a homosexual was ridiculed mercilessly. And by ridiculed he meant got beaten up every time they left the house. One of his mates from