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    Out of the Rain
    Out of the Rain
    Out of the Rain
    Ebook70 pages55 minutes

    Out of the Rain

    By Hollis Shiloh

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Oliver's life has been hard — but even so he doesn't need the kind of clients who try to corner him and hurt him, possibly kill him.  During his escape from such a man, Oliver meets Theo, a bashful scholar who ends up losing his job because of Oliver — and then inviting Oliver home.  Not for sex, not as a client, but as a friend, so he can get out of the cold.  

    ~18,000 words 
    Gay romance

    Author's note: Theo appeared briefly in "Robert and Louie."

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSpare Words Press
    Release dateFeb 7, 2017
    ISBN9781386476573
    Out of the Rain

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      Book preview

      Out of the Rain - Hollis Shiloh

      Out of the Rain

      by Hollis Shiloh

      Oliver backed away from the gentleman hard and fast as he could.  Now wait just a second, mister, he said, raising his hands, his heart beating rapidly.  Pay first and nothing kinky, we said.

      Oh come, said the gentleman, a leer lighting his face and a gleam in his eye, as if Oliver's fear was what he wanted most.

      His good shirt was torn, bleeding through from that nick the man had already given him.  Shouldn't have let him get me off the street, thought Oliver.  He felt dizzy and a little faint.  If only it was hunger ... he hoped it was hunger and not blood loss: not the little cut actually being more and deeper.  Just in case, he had a hand clamped over the cut on his arm.  But his heart beat madly with fear, probably pumping the red stuff out faster yet.

      How much extra, then? said the gentleman.  He could spare it; he could probably pay to dispose of Oliver's body the next morning and not feel the pinch in his pocket.  This was a big house, and a strangely quiet one, as if all the servants had been sent home, or else knew to stay in their rooms and not hear a thing. 

      Oh ... oh... 

      I ... I'm sorry, but I really have to go.  He used the most educated voice he could.  It wasn't his, but sometimes it gave clients a second of hesitation before they tried something they shouldn't.

      He was frightened enough to try anything.  He edged back towards the door, hoping he could reach it, get it open, and dash out into the street before the man could catch him.  And probably kill him.  There were some men that got their jollies from that.  All the boys and girls that worked the streets, even part time, knew it and feared it.  One of the world's most dangerous professions.

      Come on, soothed the man.  Tough lad like you, I'm sure you can take it. 

      Ah, the dare voice, as if he was a little kid who could be conned into doing something deadly just because someone thought he couldn't. 

      Nope, and nope.  He had to get out of there.  But a step back towards the door brought the man closer, and the john's hand slammed up against it, holding the heavy wooden door shut, and his grin widened.

      I have to go, said Oliver, sounding small and scared even to himself.  He didn't know where to go — except the door wasn't going to be the way, now.  He ducked past the john and ran further into the big old house. 

      Oh, a chase?  Like that, do you?  He laughed, and there was the sound of a belt being taken off, that peculiar ring of a belt buckle that was unlike anything else, that made him sit up and take notice and tremble.  His father's belt had been the first, of course, but now they all made him alert in a bad way.  And while he would no doubt survive a whipping, even a rough one, even with buckle, he might not survive whatever the man took into his head to do next.

      He ran, stumbling a little in his fear and anxiety to find an escape. 

      Just get to a window ... work it open ... get out.  Even if I have to break it.

      He wished with all his heart for a way of escape.  There — halfway down the hall, a door that opened when he tried the knob.  Everything else seemed to be locked.  It had better not be the john's bedroom.  Oh — oh!

      He stopped, aghast.  He'd entered the library, filled with tomes, a tomb for books — great shelves of them, so many shelves that there was a big attached sort of ladder and a man standing on it, arranging something on one of the high shelves. 

      He shut a book with a snap and looked down at Oliver in a befuddled way through his glasses.  Hello?

      He sounded uncertain.  Was he not supposed to be here?  But it wasn't fear in his voice.  He simply didn't seem to know what was going on.

      Well, lucky him, then.

      Oliver ignored the man, who clearly posed no threat, and flung himself to the nearest window.  He rattled it uselessly, swore, and took his bloody hand away from his wound.  He needed both to work the latch.  His touch left the sickening smear of bloody fingerprints.  His hands trembled almost too hard to work the latch.  Hold it together.  You'd think you'd never been in danger before!

      Oh, little rabbit, where are you dashing off to so shyly? asked a taunting voice as the john came nearer.  The door creaked as he opened it further.

      The man on the ladder cleared his throat, sounding highly embarrassed.  Excuse me, but what's going on?

      Several things happened at once. 

      Oliver got the latch open.

      The john said, What? in an angry voice, and then, You're still here?

      The man on the ladder dropped the book. 

      It fluttered down and thumped loudly, hitting several rungs of the ladder (and possibly the man's foot) on the way, and landed sprawled like a dead thing. 

      Oh dear, said

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