Check… and Mate by Ann Douglas
Dive into “Check… and Mate” by Ann Douglas, a captivating gay sex story that explores passion, strategy, and unexpected connections. Follow the tantalizing journey of two men as they navigate desire and intimacy, revealing the depths of their attraction. Get ready for an exhilarating read that will leave you wanting more!
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Summer 1975
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Mark Palmieri said under his breath as the blond haired twenty-three year old looked out the hotel lobby’s bay window, watching the downpour from the unexpected storm that had washed out his plans for the weekend. “I might as well be back home in Brooklyn.”
-=-=-=-
Twenty-four hours before, Mark had been standing in the office of Teresa Gennaro, the dispatch manager at Amalgamated Trucking. Prior to stepping into the forty-eight year’s olds office, the rookie driver had been looking forward to his first weekend off in two months, but it had only taken seven words for any plans he might have had to evaporate like ice on a skillet.
“I need you to work this weekend,” Teresa said before Mark could even sit down in the chair in front of her desk.
A stern look filled the woman’s face as she waited a long moment to see if Mark cared to protest. When none was forthcoming, she motioned to the seat and, once he had sat down, began to explain why he would be doing so.
“Toby Tyler quit this morning,” she began, “and I’m sure you know what that means.”
Mark knew all too well, and with that realization he sank back in the chair and let out a low but noticeable groan. He’d started with Amalgamated eleven months ago, during which he’d only managed to take one step up the ladder of seniority — on which everything from assignments to vacation picks were based. The only name below him on the company roster had been Toby Tyler.
“Toby was supposed to make a run up to Clayton Springs this weekend,” Teresa said after she’d given Mark what she considered enough time to absorb his change of status, “and since all the more senior drivers already have prior assignments or weekend plans, you fall into the slot.”
‘Lucky me,’ Mark thought.
“You’ll be delivering exhibition material for an Industry Expo being held at the Mountainview,” the stocky brunette explained, “but don’t worry, all you have to do is show up on time. The people on site are responsible for unloading the display and then packing it back up for you to bring back on Sunday night.”
As she spoke, she handed Mark a brochure about the Mountainview, the back of which showed an address and local map. There was also a trip ticket attached that showed a more detailed map that outlined the route he would follow to get there. Flipping the pamphlet over, Mark took a more interested look at the photos of the lakefront beach and other amenities the resort offered, causing him to think this might not be so bad after all.
“Will I be staying at the Mountainview?” Mark asked.
“Not at what they charge for a night,” Teresa laughed. “No, you’ll be staying at a motel about a quarter mile down the road.”
“Oh, okay,” Mark responded, his time showing his disappointment. Knowing how tight the company was with money, he could only imagine what kind of dump that might turn out to be.
“But nothing says you can’t hang around the hotel during the day and make use the spaces open to the general public, which I’d like to point out include the beach,” Teresa stated, causing Mark to again look down at the long stretch of pristine sand bordering Lake George.
Mark again pictured himself sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs in the photo, soaking up the sun with a drink in his hand.
“You have to be there by seven,” Teresa said as she then handed him an envelope with expense money for fuel for the return trip and such, “which means that you need to leave the depot no later than three in the morning.”
“I’ll be there,” Mark promised as he checked the amount in the envelope and then signed the receipt that had come with it.
As he put the brochure and cash into his pocket, handing Teresa the receipt afterwards, Mark could well understand why no one with any seniority ever wanted to make this run. It would’ve been a lot easier to leave tonight and get there by midnight, but that would mean that the company would have to spring for another night of lodgings. And that wasn’t going to happen as long as old man Callahan owned the company. He ran the place by the motto — every nickel counted.
“Well, I guess that’s it, except to wish you a safe trip and have a little fun if you can,” Teresa concluded as she turned her attention to the papers on her desk.
As he left her office, Mark cursed the bad luck that had put him once more at the bottom of the totem pole. Even so, he couldn’t really get mad at Teresa. She’d gone out of her way the last few months to get him as many good runs as possible. The reason why she’d done so hadn’t exactly been innocent, however, because anyone who cared to notice could see that she had the hots for him. It was pretty much common knowledge that the very married mother of four liked to screw around with some of the drivers, and Mark was the latest target on her radar. So far, however, he’d managed to avoid her bed.
-=-=-=-
Stepping away from the window, Mark walked over by the front desk where a large oversized board rested on a tripod display stand. On it was written the latest weather forecast. His heart dropped as he read that the rainstorm wasn’t expected to move out of the area until tomorrow afternoon, just a few hours before he was scheduled to start back home. As a result, all outdoor activities had been canceled and Mark didn’t need to be reminded that most of the activities open to the public were held outside.
‘Well, at least I brought a book,’ Mark thought as, pulling the well-worn tome out of his back pocket, he headed toward the lounge in search of a comfortable chair.
After about forty minutes, he’d had enough of John Jakes’ The Rebels, the second book in his American Bicentennial Series. It wasn’t that he wasn’t enjoying it; he was, it was just that he had to be in the mood to read, and right now he wasn’t.
Looking around the room, he counted about a dozen guests, six of which were sitting around a large round table with folders scattered across it. His guess was that they were here for the exposition. A few other chairs were occupied by individuals reading newspapers or other periodicals. Two were women, but of an age that made any thought of striking up anything more than a conversation rather doubtful.
‘Maybe I should head down to that motel the company made my reservation at,’ Mark thought as he got up from his chair. ‘There should be a television in my room, or at least I hope so.’
Rising from his chair, he started out of the lounge, only to pause when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed another guest sitting by himself in the far corner. Gray haired with a crew cut and a tightly trimmed beard, the man was wearing a light blue denim shirt and darker jeans, a sort of work uniform that made him look a bit out of place. Yet it wasn’t so much his appearance that caught Mark’s eye, but rather the portable chess set on the small rectangular table in front of him.