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Nerdvana
by Bryl R Tyne Fred Towers (ed), Jeff Adams, Augusta Li, David C. Muller, Rob Rosen, J.D. Waters, Wayne Mansfield, Helen E.H. Madden, Stephen Osborne, Jim Clar, Dalton, Landon Dixon, Jay Starre
What is it about nerds we love? Their mystery? Their quietness? Their brains? Has to be those BC glasses. Yeah, that's it!
An erotic anthology of geeks and nerds, for geeks and nerds and those who love them ~ Nerdvana,edited by Fred Towers.
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Excerpt
from the story, Exposed by Bryl R. Tyne (unedited)
Clay explained the game's environment as he hovered near the monitor. Mr. Minsho's gaze traveled from Clay's shoes to the top of his head. "This is impressive work, McCarthy," he said, clicking another trigger point. His eyebrows twitched more than a few times, Clay noticed. "You never cease to amaze me with your realism."
"Thank you, sir."
Mr. Minsho swiveled around, lacing his fingers together atop his desk. "You are coming to the dinner tonight, right?"
Clay's eyes widened and he cleared his throat. "I've quite a bit of work--"
"Nonsense! See you at eight sharp."
Shit! Hoping to circumvent further obligation, Clay shuffled toward the office door, but Minsho's final comment sealed his fate. "Don't be late, McCarthy."
Nobody understood. Never had, never will, and he wasn't about to explain. Clay wanted to crawl into a hole, hide out the rest of the night, the remainder of the week if he could. What's this sudden interest, 'Help Socialize Clay Week'? He found it unnerving to say the least. My life is mine to live, my secrets, mine to keep. Opening up to others meant sharing both. The mere thought of trusting again sent minute pieces of jagged glass scraping down his spine.
***
"Well, are you coming or not?" Becca asked as she wheeled her chair under the desk and picked up her bag. Clay hoped to avoid the inevitable by pretending ignorance. However, Minsho would never buy that excuse, especially after their earlier conversation. Besides, if it meant finding favor…he hated caving in--being soft. "I'm not biking three miles to Raymond's. I don't think so. Have a nice--!"
Becca demanded attention as she whipped his chair around. "You're riding with me. So, quit being ridiculous." She yanked him to his feet.
"Let me shut down first for Christ's sake." Clay secured his station, hoisted his backpack, and reluctantly followed her. She seriously needs to get laid…I'm getting sick of this shit. Becca's twenty years old and single. Briefly, Clay wondered; then struggled to erase the revolting mental images. As she turned on to the street, Clay stared at his clunky twelve-speed chained near the door, calculating how many months he'd have to save for an upgrade.
***
This many bodies crammed into 4000 square foot must certainly be against fire code. Clay fascinated on the ceiling's beam structure as he shoved his way through the crowd, not willing to fall behind. How does she do it? He fumed. Restaurant patrons eloquently parted for Becca, yet they seemed hell bent on blocking his passage. As she disappeared into the sea of people, panic swept through him. His fear of crowds kicked in...Enochlophobia, the shrink told me. Yeah, whatever, I just need to stop, recompose…breathe. Inhaling slowly and adjusting his cap, he wiped the perspiration dotting his temples.
What the hell? He jerked his head toward the owner of the hand that rested on the small of his back. He met hazel eyes…devilish grin. Exactly the reason Clay hated public places. His tongue wet his bottom lip, as menace transformed into opportunity. The man's smiling face inches from his, Clay toyed with the sudden urge to kiss those full lips.
"Excuse me, are you lost?" the man asked. Even touching a total stranger, the man stood confident. Clay shifted to his right, and the comforting palm retreated.
"J-Just lost track of my friend for a minute," Clay managed to blurt out, tearing his gaze away and scanning the crowd.
The stranger smiled and held out his hand. "Dave Hansen," he said.
Clay pushed his glasses up before accepting the handshake. "Clay McCarthy."
"I'm lost myself," Dave said, "looking for a table of folks from Minsho Software."
"Oh, so…" Clay's eyes moved to Dave's hand, the one still holding his. Pulling it away, he wiped the sweat from his brow. "You must be the new guy. What's your specialty?" Not a threat, Clay assured himself as his eyes roamed the man's expanse...Another poser...noting the scuffed biker boots and faded jeans of his too-casual attire...Definitely not one of us.
"Oh, so you're with Minsho's?" Dave asked, with his smile widening into what Clay garnered something between sly and sinister. "I'm an animator. One of the best...So, I'm told."
"Artificial intelligence," Clay said, resolving it'd be a cold day in hell before he'd give Dave any recognition.
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