"Can you do something to keep that bloody hound quiet?" Barnes had had enough. He was trying to get into James' pants, yes, but the howling of that damned dog was driving him to distraction, and it was just that much more than he needed out here in a muddy trench on the Aisne with the Huns singing and shooting off their guns at ten-minute intervals from dus...
It was Lawrence who unwittingly put the three together—he, Johann, and August. He'd known that there was a particular wounded prisoner Johann was assigned to take care of in the medial operations tent in the British encampment after the Battle of Saratoga. And he would have been jealous at Johann paying such close attention to another man, if the surgeon had...
Tonight was one of those nights that in the past few months Second Lieutenant Theodore Stevenson had come to describe as quiet: although when was it ever truly quiet on the Western Front? He could still hear the spasmodic rat-a-tat of distant machine gun fire; the occasional whoosh of a sniper's bullet; and the muffled screams of agony and despair from a lon...
This is a long, character-driven story. The sex begins around the last five pages or so-- if that's what you're here for. I'd like to think that the rest of it is somewhat worth reading. Notes & constructive criticism are greatly appreciated. -- Leon xx ***** "FUCK!" I slammed my fist down on the island, tears burning in my eyes. I was still st...
Virginia had said it wanted the British and Hessian prisoners, but it wasn't fully prepared to receive them. When George Washington, the military commander for the colonialists, decided that Boston was just too close to where there were British troops in strength to be confident the large number of prisoners from the Battle of Saratoga wouldn't just be freed...
I'd barely made it through a rough day in paradise. I had paperwork up to my eyeballs, and the ambassador was being a real bear toward the Country Team. He was being crushed in a vice between Washington, the Greeks, and the Turks over the latest failure of the Cypriot settlement talks to move just when the Greeks and Turks were both teasing us with the possi...
August 2009 James Once the Vuelta starts, our emailing dries up to once a day, usually in the brief gap between Simon eating and falling asleep. I'm wary of interrupting his focus, so rather than bug him for details I mostly just follow the race on the radio. I pick up an English-speaking channel online and soon I'm learning some of the language - peleton,...
"Ah, another late riser. A man after my own heart." The voice was deep and melodious. I was sitting across a table on the terrace from the pasha, who was finishing up his coffee when one of those mincing little manservants had guided me out onto the terrace. He looked as magnificent in the morning sunlight as he had the previous night, fucking Jared in his b...
(Note: This is a five-chapter novella, which should all post within three weeks of the posting of chapter one) Who could have guessed that the sense of freedom and exhilaration could come in the form of a feeling of calm and of floating above the world and of experience and rejoicing in every moment? I had escaped—escaped Nicosia and the embassy and the Ame...
For fifteen years after the end of World War II, the British government retained conscription. Young men of eighteen were called up to serve two years National Service in the armed forces. Some guys were sent to fight in wars, some to defend the last turbulent outposts of the British Empire; I was sent to Germany where I got fucked bow legged. Of all the s...