Free L. A. Mischief by P. A. Brown Page B

shoulder. “My turn.”
    “Oh.” Chris backpedaled, feeling foolish. He watched as David took another strike and five pins.
    “Fifteen.”
    “Rub it in.”
    “It’s about fun, not winning,” David commiserated.
    “Sure it is.”
    “Let me give you some pointers.” David came up behind Chris as he pulled a ball out of the chute and positioned himself in front of the line. “Release the ball smoothly. You don’t want it to bounce.”
    “I don’t?”
    “No, this isn’t tennis.”
    Chris looked down at the ball he was holding with three fingers. It must have weighed twelve pounds easily. “Right, not tennis. I’d hate to hit this sucker with a racket.”
    David grinned. “I’d like to see you lob it that high.”
    Chris drew his arm back and swept forward, trying to let the ball go smoothly like David said. This time it didn’t bounce and it didn’t go into the gutter. But as it rolled down the lane it lost momentum. By the time it reached the pins it was barely moving. Two pins fell, a third wobbled then held its place.
    Chris threw his arms up and rolled his eyes. “This is harder than I thought.”
    “I know. Go on, you’ve got another turn.” David stepped closer, his hips touching Chris’s, his breath warm on Chris’s neck. He reached around to position Chris’s body. “You need to address the ball. Like this.” He moved Chris’s arm and put a hand on his hip, sending a jolt of raw lust through him. “Now you want to offset it just a bit, put a bit of spin on the ball and bring it into that king pin, number five there in the middle.”
    Chris could barely concentrate. David’s words were warm puffs of air on his suddenly flushed skin.
    “Now let it go.”
    Chris obeyed and the ball sped down the lane, smashing right where David said it would, knocking all eight pins askew. The pin setter came down and removed the fallen pins, setting up the next set.
    David retrieved his ball and lined up his next set. This time only five pins fell. He smiled at Chris. “See, it is hard.”
    Over several more turns Chris learned to line his shot up like David had shown him. With his last shot the ball flew out of his hand and he gyrated on the floor, forgetting everything around him, forgetting everything except David and his ball. His ball slammed right into the sweet spot, and every pin went flying. He leaped into the air with a yell, slamming his fist up and yelling, “In your face!”
    David was laughing when he came down and realized several nearby bowlers were watching him with amusement. He flushed and grinned.
    “Well?” David said.
    “Well what?”
    “Is it as terrible as you thought it would be?”
    “God no,” Chris gushed, barely stopping himself from grabbing David’s arm. “It’s fun. I’m glad you invited me.”
    “Yeah, me too,” David said, his smile slipping as he held Chris’s gaze. “Hey, let me buy you a drink.”
    “Sure,” Chris said softly. He followed David into the bar where they took a booth and got menus from the server. Chris looked it over, checking out their drink menu.
    “Martini?” David asked.
    Chris shook his head. “Maybe just an iced tea,” he said the server when she came back. David raised an eyebrow but said nothing. He ordered his Bud.
    Along with the drinks David ordered pot stickers and egg rolls which turned out to be surprisingly good. Chris realized he was hungrier than he had even known when the food was set down in front of him. It occurred to him that he hadn’t had much of an appetite for the last few days. He had been thinking about David, convalescing at his house, wondering if he could call. Wondering if the good looking guy from the hospital was there playing nurse. He wolfed down two egg rolls and a half a dozen pot stickers.
    “What did you do all week, anyway?” Chris asked, trying to keep his voice light.
    David studied his beer. “Took a lot of pain pills the first few days, started to feel like myself by Wednesday,” he