Dirty Laundry: A Tucker Springs Novel #3

“Can’t imagine it’s easy, working that hard at school. Grad school no less. They should give you guys maids or something.”
    “God, I wish. More like we’re the maids.” He eased into his seat a little. “A friend of mine is doing a residency at a hospital in Denver. His day makes my schedule look like a cakewalk. Another friend of mine is on his way to getting his doctorate in pharmacy. Once he took some all-day test, and in the middle of it he called his girlfriend and broke down on the phone. He was so nuts she called 911. The professor was angry, said they’d disrupted the test.”
    “Jesus.”
    “Yeah.” Denver had the windows down, and Adam rested his arm on the door, drinking in the cool evening air. “My profs aren’t quite that crazy, but they definitely have the ivory tower going. The only thing in the world they pay attention to is school. Which kind of bothers me. I’d thought I wanted to go into academia. But it’s not what I thought it was going to be. Too much politics, too much power playing.”
    “What is it you want to do when you’re done?”
    “I don’t know yet. I thought about something in research, maybe for a company. Except I don’t want to end up working for Monsanto or somewhere like that.”
    “How close are you to being finished?”
    “That’s always the big question when you’re a doctoral student. Pretty much at this point it’s whenever I’m done with my dissertation. Hopefully within a year, but we’ll see. I still have plenty of research to gather, let alone organize and write up.”
    Denver shook his head. “And you wonder why you get a little stressed out. I never worked like that in my life. Couldn’t if my life depended on it.”
    Adam’s focus shifted to Denver’s bulging muscles. “I couldn’t ever work out like you do. You must spend hours at it.” The mental image made his cock swell. “God, I bet that’s hot.”
    This made Denver laugh. “Well, say the word, and I’ll get you a front-row seat.”
    “Don’t tempt me.” Adam smiled too. “Seriously, do you work out every day?”
    He nodded. “Pretty much. I do a rotation of things, some at home, some at the gym.”
    “Does it get boring?”
    “Naw. Feels good. I’ve always been one of those guys who has to move and use his body. I’d go bananas behind a desk.”
    “No, you’d turn into the Hulk and tear the desk apart. Which, for the record, would also be hot.”
    Denver’s hand stole over and rested on Adam’s thigh. “So my muscles turn you on, baby?”
    Adam let his knee fall into the console, giving Denver better access. “Oh yeah. I bet you could bench-press me.”
    His hand crept higher, massaging the crease of Adam’s leg at his groin. “Little thing like you? Wouldn’t break a sweat.”
    Adam turned so his cock pressed into Denver’s hand. “Yeah. God. I wish you didn’t have to work.”
    “Me too, baby. Me too.” Denver palmed Adam through his jeans. “I’m off Sunday.”
    Adam ran frantically through his schedule. “I’d have to stop by the lab for a few hours in the morning, but other than that, it’s just me and the endless dissertation notes.” And cleaning his apartment, and the rest of his laundry. Which he did have to do, or his OCD would ensure he had hell to pay. But he would make time for Denver somehow. He had to. It was practically therapy.
    Denver’s thumb pressed insistently against the hard ridge of Adam’s cock. “It’s a date then. You keep this bad boy ready for me.”
    Just that touch had Adam nearly ready to pop. “That’s not going to be a problem.”

    Adam fully intended to politely decline hanging out with Denver’s friends. If they did show up, he’d make small talk for a few minutes and then drift back to the door, and if they didn’t, no problems whatsoever. Once again, however, reality did not fall in line with his plans. To start, Denver wasn’t working the door but the bar—upstairs. Adam hadn’t even known there was an upstairs. It was very nice, actually, very old and beautiful with a gorgeous balcony patio, and this was where Denver’s friends took him to sit. They didn’t let him dribble some small talk and escape, either.
    “So you’re in entomology?” This came from Paul, who was a slender strawberry blond with eyes like a lost puppy. He made Adam feel calm just looking at him.
    “Yes. I’m doing my dissertation on hawk moths,” he replied.
    El, who was lean, lanky, and Latino from the hue of