Description: Jesse Kline is out to explore the most infamous murder sites in his home state for an upcoming photography book. But when he ends up at Cutter Farm, the site of a quintuple murder, he encounters Cutter, the farm’s caretaker.
After a hot interlude with the mysterious, sexy stranger, he makes a revelation that will forever change his outlook on life and what’s real and what isn’t.
[M/M, anal sex, mild BDSM, spanking]
Short story
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Excerpt: “Do you mind if I ask what you’re doing in here?” asked the young man standing before him. He was around twenty years of age give or take a year, and except for a pair of well-worn jeans he was shirtless and quite fine looking. His bright blue eyes shone in the dimly lit room. His head was shaved and tanned. “You do realize that you’re trespassing on private property. Didn’t you take note of the sign out there on the road? You shouldn’t be in here, it really isn’t safe. A city boy like you could come to a lot of harm out here on his own.”
Jesse was lost for words. Where had this man come from? He hadn’t heard anyone enter the house. Surely he would have heard him come in through that creaky front door. “I…well…I was taking some pictures,” he stammered. He hadn’t seen any sign. If there was one it was probably buried in that mess of grass out there.
“I don’t mean any harm.”
“Pictures?” The young man shot him a strange look. He ran one hand across his fine, tanned chest to scratch his right shoulder. “You’re one of them artsy types.”
“Yes,” replied Jesse, slightly distracted by the man’s fantastic body. This was no time to let his mind run wild.
“Can I ask who you are?”
The guy smirked. “I should be asking you that question. So, who are you and why are you taking pictures here?”
“My name is Jesse Kline. I’m a photographer, and I was taking shots for a book about the history of this place, and other infamous murder sites.” He figured it was best to be honest and forthright about his intentions. If the guy asked him to leave, he would without putting up a fuss. He sure as hell did not want to get arrested for trespassing. This guy looked like he could open a can of whoop ass on him at any time. He so didn’t need that.
“Fair enough. I’m Cutter, that’s what everyone calls me. I keep an eye on the place.”
“Cutter, as in the family that lived here?” He didn’t think any still lived in the immediate area. That didn’t really mean anything; Cutter could have lived in any of the nearby towns.
“Yup, we’re kin. You’d be surprised at how many idiots come out here looking to get a peek at the place, and to snag a souvenir. Most times they’re easily scared off.”
“That’s sad,” Jesse said. “There are far too many assholes in this world. I wouldn’t take anything other than pictures.” He held up his camera to make his point.
Cutter nodded. “Well, Jesse Kline. I don’t see any harm in you taking pictures down here, but you can’t go upstairs. It’s not safe, the floors gone soft.” Cutter stamped hard on the floor with one foot. “You’d come down right through to here if you did.”
That sucked! “Thanks for the warning.” His eyes strayed to Cutter’s chest, and when he turned away as the man watched him, his cheeks grew hot. “What about the outbuildings?”
“They’re still pretty decent, considering. I can give you a tour. There isn’t a whole lot to see, but I can show you if you’d like.” Cutter turned and started out of the house.
“Sure, yeah that would be great.” Jesse chased after him, grabbing his backpack in the hall by the front door as he exited the house. “How often do you come out here to check on the place?” he asked. It was a lame effort to make conversation.
“I’m always around,” said Cutter. “There’s the big barn, and the little barn. The fields have been reclaimed by good ole Mother Nature. That’s all there is to it,” explained Cutter. “It’s a pity that the place never sold. It would have been nice to see another family living here, to keep everything up and in repair. It was a great place in its prime.”
Jesse agreed, though he couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to live here knowing about the murders. “Yeah, that sucks.”
“You’re not from around here, are you? You a city boy?”
Up ahead, Jesse spotted a large barn that at one point had been painted red. “I’m not. How did you guess?”
“You have a city boy accent. I don’t mean any offense,” said Cutter. “City boys are just as good as country boys,” he continued on, looking back at Jesse with a slight, cute grin.
“You can go in if you like,” said Cutter, once they got to the barn.
Jesse looked in through the entrance and up at the roof or lack of one. It was pretty much just large wooden beams with large expanses of blue sky, and sunshine filtering through. He shrugged out of his backpack and entered, his camera ready.
Inside it was pretty much just a room with stalls for horses, and other livestock, and the rusted hulk and a tractor and some other large farm machinery. “This is good,” he said. “I can work with this.” He snapped pictures of the machinery and stalls and, when he felt a strong hand on his shoulder, he jumped.
“Sorry,” said Cutter. “I seem to have a habit of scaring you.”
