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  “Looking for Forever”

  M/M Gay Romance

  Max Hudson

  © 2019

  Max Hudson

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This book is intended for Adults (ages 18+) only. The contents may be offensive to some readers. It may contain graphic language, explicit sexual content, and adult situations. May contain scenes of unprotected sex. Please do not read this book if you are offended by content as mentioned above or if you are under the age of 18.

  Please educate yourself on safe sex practices before making potentially life-changing decisions about sex in real life. If you’re not sure where to start, see here: http://www.jerrycoleauthor.com/safe-sex-resources/ (courtesy of Jerry Cole).

  This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner & are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. Products or brand names mentioned are trademarks of their respective holders or companies. The cover uses licensed images & are shown for illustrative purposes only. Any person(s) that may be depicted on the cover are simply models.

  Edition v1.00 (2019.01.09)

  http://www.maxhudsonauthor.com

  Special thanks to the following volunteer readers who helped with proofreading: Chris, Bob, Jon Niehus, William G. Wallick, Penny T., E.W. Gregg and those who assisted but wished to be anonymous. Thank you so much for your support.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter One

  It was pretty obvious that this flight wasn’t going to go well as soon as we reached cruising altitude. I was sure of that fact when the butterflies and somersaults that I felt in my stomach during takeoff failed to subside once we were safely in the air.

  An hour into the flight and I was sweating.

  Ninety minutes into the flight and I knew I must look pretty bad because no less than three different flight attendants had made their way to my seat to ask if there was anything they could get me. I hadn’t even touched my peanuts.

  Eventually, I had to level with them, and myself, and admit that I was feeling pretty shitty, though I was relatively sure that it wasn’t viral. It was probably something I ate, and judging by the cramping in my lower abdomen, it was going to make a second appearance one way or another. I kept an eye on the bathrooms and kept a barf bag clutched in my clammy palms for the next hour.

  Things were looking up as we got closer and closer to our destination. I managed not to spill the contents of my stomach and, despite looking like a plague victim by this time, I was pretty sure that a good night’s sleep and a very bland diet would cure what ailed me.

  “Here, this will help. Almost there,” he said. I looked up into the face of what may have been the only male flight attendant on the plane.

  “You’re new,” I said, trying to smile.

  He put a cup, a handful of saltines, a tiny can of ginger ale and a warm towel on my tray.

  “I take this flight three or four times a month, and I’ve never seen you before,” I explained.

  “Some of the other attendants got shuffled around,” he said, standing up and looking down at me the way my mother would look at me when I was sick in bed.

  “I must really look like shit for them to send you over here,” I joked.

  “Well, I’m sure you’ve felt better,” he patted my shoulder. “Hang in there, champ.”

  He walked away without another word. It was a small kindness, but in the service industry, it was the small things that counted. I ate my saltines and sipped the cup of ginger ale until the plane landed. I was still pretty miserable when I disembarked. The cabin crew lined up to usher us off the flight and bid us farewell, the way they all do. He was standing at the gate, the last person to bid us adieu. This time, when he smiled and said goodbye, I stopped and smiled back.

  “Thanks a lot for the crackers, uh,” I took a quick glance at his name tag. “James.”

  “No problem, you take care of yourself, sir. Thank you for flying with us.”

  It was genuine. In my line of work, you get to know the difference between really convincing performances and genuine feelings. He meant what he said. It wasn’t deep. Honestly, it was just nice to see somebody who really gave a shit about whether or not another human being felt bad.

  This time, I had checked luggage. I usually traveled light, hopping from one coast to the other with little more than a strategically packed carry on. But, this trip had been longer. A wedding, several business meetings, and a much-needed vacation had kept me on the east coast for nearly a month.

  Now it was back to work, with a shoot tomorrow and a few hosting gigs coming up over the next few days. I needed to get a good night’s sleep and prep for the cameras. I kept myself in good shape and avoided foods that made my sweat smelly as a professional courtesy. I’d already booked some spa time for some serious manscaping when I was back in New York.

  I claimed my luggage and made my way to the exit. With each step the gathering misery in my stomach seemed to grow, pressing down on my lungs and my lower intestines at the same time. At this point, it was anybody’s guess which end would be subjected to violent explosions. I touched my forehead and felt the light perspiration gathering at my temples. I was really in for it.

  Just as I was hoping that I could find someplace to vomit with grace and dignity, a familiar face crossed my vision.

  “Oh sir, you dropped this,” said the friendly flight attendant. He held out a small notebook that had been stuffed haphazardly into my carry-on bag. I smiled, sort of, and took it. I didn’t dare say a word to him, for fear of a geyser of rancid vomit spewing out of my mouth the moment I unclenched my teeth.

  I remember thinking that it was such a pity that I would have to hope to see him again on another flight so that I could get to know a little bit more about him.

  And then it happened.

  I felt my stomach officially reverse gears and everything that had been congealing there came flying out of my mouth in what would have been a pretty impressive show of gastronomical pyrotechnics if it didn’t end up coating the front of the man’s uniform.

  To his credit, he was incredibly calm about it all. He looked at me the way doctors look at infants that shit all over the exam table. Inconvenient, but not unexpected. I was mortified, to say the least. Two more powerful spasms from my belly had me doubled over as I emptied whatever digestive juices were still left in my body onto the floor. I managed to avoid his shoes. When the retching was done, I wiped my mouth with my sleeve and stood up on unsteady legs.

  “I’m so sorry!” was all I could muster.

  “Well...lucky for me I’m off the clock anyway,” he said, looking around. “There’s a bathroom over there, I can just get changed up. I hope you feel better.”

  I nodded sheepishly and tried to think of the best way to escape this situation without attracting more attention to myself. I slipped my d
ouchebag aviators on and began to walk away from the rancid puddle I’d just created. But leaving at that moment would’ve been a dick move, and I couldn’t do that to somebody who’d just suffered ultimate humiliation from me for the crime of being a nice guy. So, I followed the flight attendant into the men’s room.

  “Hey, uh, James?”

  “Doug.” The voice came from behind a stall at the end of the row.

  “Sorry, Doug...but your tag said James?”

  “That’s my name. Doug James,” he sounded annoyed.

  “Oh, sorry. Listen I don’t think you’re going to be able to just fling that into the washing machine and get it clean. Why don’t you come back with me, I’ll send it to the best cleaner I know. This lady is magical. She gets everything out, gum, ink, semen, you name it.”

  He opened the stall door and gave me the most heartwarming, boy-next-door smile.

  “Are you trying to hit on me?”

  I probably shouldn't have laughed at that, but I did. He obviously had no idea who I was. If he did, he would know that I was beyond chasing tail in an airport men’s room.

  “No, seriously. I literally vomited all over you and you were nothing but nice all during my flight. I ruined your uniform, the least I could do is pay for some dry-cleaning and maybe treat you to a drink while we wait.”

  He thought about it for a moment and then nodded.

  “Sounds good, just give me a few minutes.”

  “I’ll wait outside,” I said, deciding that the best way to avoid giving him the wrong impression would be to keep my physical distance. Also, I was pretty sure my breath still smelled like puke and I looked like shit. So, I washed my hands and face, brushed my teeth, and put on a fresh shirt while Doug got changed. When he came out of the stall, he handed me a plastic bag.

  “I hope your miracle worker can do something about that,” he said, looking embarrassed.

  “She’s a true miracle worker, and trust me, she’s seen it all,” I assured him.

  We caught a cab to my hotel together. As soon as I checked in, we headed out to get his uniform cleaned. I immediately began to notice how out of place Doug looked. He literally looked like that guy who played on your high school baseball team or ran for student government. He was a nice guy, pleasant, unassuming, and non-threatening. He was the guy you would want your teenage daughter to date.

  Totally not my type. But then, I guess I didn’t really have a type. My work brought me into contact with lots of people from all walks of life. The one thing that they all had in common though was the one thing Doug seemed to lack, a desire to be seen. For some reason, that was the most attractive quality about him.

  “So how did you find out about this lady?”

  “Work.”

  “What do you do?”

  I suppressed the impulse to roll my eyes as I got ready to answer his question. This was the point in all of my relationships where everything changed. I’d promised myself when I got into this business that I wouldn’t be ashamed of it or lie to others about how I made my money. Still, that didn’t mean that it was always easy.

  “I'm an adult entertainer,” I said.

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  “That’s so cool. I don’t think I have the confidence to do anything like that,” he said.

  I looked at him from the corner of my eye. He didn’t have the body or the face for it either. Although there was a niche for average looking guys, the market was fickle. No telling how long anybody could ride that bubble.

  “Yeah, well tough stains are an occupational hazard. It’s good to know a few people who can keep things clean for you,” I said, not really sure how to proceed. I admit, his response was unexpected and much more enthusiastic than I expected, but I didn’t want to dwell on the subject. I didn’t want to give him the chance to say something dumb, insulting, or assume that I was always “on” and ready to perform. I was a porn star, not a sex machine. Contrary to popular opinion, they are not the same things.

  We ducked into Madam Park’s shop. Unlike most dry cleaners, her shop felt more like a boutique than a mom and pop operation. She dressed nice and took her time to speak with her customers. The older woman gave me a warm smile and an excited wave as we walked in.

  “Mr. Glover, how nice to see you again!” She walked around her counter and shook my hand.

  “I’ve been a little busy recently. I just got back into town today and I’m already in a little bit of trouble.”

  She frowned.

  “What kind of trouble?”

  “I threw up on this guy’s uniform. He’s a flight attendant, so I hope you can put a little rush on this. I’ll pay extra,” I added. I handed her the sloppy bag and she put on gloves before accepting it. I watched as she gingerly opened the bag and peered inside. Madam Park was a pro. She didn’t make any comment or allow her face to show any disgust, saving me from any further humiliation.

  “You can’t pay extra because there is no rush. It will take as long as it needs to take. You know that,” she said with a genial smile.

  “How long will it take?” Doug asked.

  “It’s very smelly. Maybe by tomorrow,” she said.

  “That’s great, what do I owe you?” I pulled out my phone to pay. I wanted to get out of the shop as quickly as possible. Somehow a vomit-soaked uniform was more embarrassing than a cum soaked costume. Go figure!

  “Everybody out here is using that now,” Doug said, referring to the app I was using to pay. “It must be a California thing.”

  “Not just here. All over the world. Korea, China, Japan, Sweden,” Madam Park added.

  “I really have to catch up, I’m behind the times.”

  As soon as the transaction was done, I turned to leave. I was a regular customer, and I knew Madam Park would take good care of the uniform. Doug followed behind, saying his goodbyes with the same personal charm that he offered everybody on the flight. “Are you like that all the time, or is it a habit from work?” He looked confused.

  “Like what?”

  “Nice. I mean, not just polite, but really nice to everybody,” I sounded annoyed and I wasn’t sure why.

  “I guess I am. I guess that makes me perfect for my job.”

  “I guess,” I shrugged. “Nothing wrong with treating people well. The world would be a better place if more of us were like you.”

  “You seem to be pretty nice to people too.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t mean it most of the time. I’m just polite and respectful. Under it all, I don’t give a fuck about most people.”

  “I don’t believe that. You took my uniform to the cleaners and you didn’t have to,” he said, walking backward so that he could look me in the face as we spoke.

  “See, that’s what I’m talking about,” I said, again annoyed.

  “What?” He stopped and looked at me with a stupid smile. For a second, he reminded me of how simple things could be.

  “Do you want to get a drink or something?”

  He frowned. “With your stomach?”

  “Okay, tea,” I said.

  “I’d love to, but I really need to get back and get some sleep. I swapped flights with somebody else last minute and have to fly out in the morning.”

  “What about your uniform?”

  “I have an extra one. I’ll be back tomorrow evening. If you’re feeling better, we can go out. I’ll have more time then.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” I said, handing him my phone. He dialed his own number and I watched as he saved the number to his phone. I flagged down a taxi as he worked. “Have a good flight,” I said, putting the phone back in my pocket.

  “You take care of yourself and take something for that tummy ache!”

  Tummy ache? It was adorable. I found myself smiling and waving as he pulled away. I felt like such a dork, but he turned back and waved, and my heart did a tiny somersault. I knew I’d call him.

  Chapter Two

  I was exhausted. It had
been a long day on set. The day began with a photo shoot. A lot of directors like to get some good photos and b-roll footage early on, when the actors are fresh, rather than trying to comb through hours of footage for good shots. For some reason, today had been a particularly grueling day. I don’t want to blame my scene partners, but the truth was that I just wasn’t able to immerse myself in the play between my body, my audience, and my scene partner.

  Something was off.

  As always, everybody on set was professional about everything. That didn’t mean there wasn’t a fair amount of raunchiness, but what do you expect? It’s porn. Generally, I enjoyed my job. Even days like today, where every scene felt a little harder than the last, were enjoyable days. I was a very sex-positive person, and unlike a lot of adult entertainers, I wasn’t in it for the money alone.

  Don’t get me wrong, the money was important. But I could’ve been a doctor or an investment banker, you know? If it was all about the money, I could jump into the Florida porn scene and make a lot of money really fast. But, I was in it for more than that. I liked to ride the line between erotica and porn, give my audience the release they’re looking for, while stimulating their sensual side. This was my niche, and my fanbase was loyal. I didn’t make as much money as some of the legends, but I managed it well.

  “Great work today, Max,” said Brett, one of the newer faces on set. I’d heard good things about him, and he gave a great performance, but he was still banking on his pretty face. My scenes with him had been my hardest, no pun intended.

  “Thanks a lot, man,” I said, giving my custom smile and wave as he slung his bag over his shoulder and made his way out of the studio.

  “You got plans tonight, sugar?” Stacey, one of the production assistants wandered over, winding a long electrical cord around his arm. Panic made all of my neurons light up. Stacey was the kind of person who would drag you to a bar to watch him get shitfaced, whether you wanted to be there or not. He was a lot of fun, but also a lot of headaches. Worse than that, I somehow ended up on his radar, and I’ve been his “flavor of the month” for nearly a year now. He was damned good at his job, so there was no way to avoid him professionally, not that I tried very hard, but he wasn’t exactly subtle about his feelings. He had the tenacity of a bulldog, and once he decided that you were his target for the evening, there was almost nothing you could do to get him to let go. Add to that the fact that he was a walking bullshit detector and avoiding an evening with him took strength and endurance that I wasn’t sure I had after nearly twelve hours on set.