The car smelled of old cigarettes, alcohol, and faintly of vanilla from a tree hanging on the mirror. I slid onto the seat of the yellow vehicle behind the passenger's seat, closing the door none too softly, and told the driver where I needed to go. "Corner of Maple and Fairview," and he pulled away from the nearby bar without another word. He was white, th...
Club Orlando looked nice enough from the outside. On a quiet side street, a short drive from my hotel near the airport, the name and the building suggested a sports club, not the bath house that it is. From time to time, intermixed with a much larger library of gay fantasies, I'd imagined what it would be like to visit a bath house. My attraction to men ha...
I nervously waited in the Philadelphia International Airport baggage claim area for Angus Talbot to pass through from his return from three weeks in the Bahamas. That was half the time I'd been working for him, transferring from the Chicago office at his request. At twenty-five, I was in my first job following graduate school as a concept artist at a major a...
PRELUDE Martha Borg pulled in her driveway and even though it was raining she did not put the car in the garage. She was hoping that her son and her daughter's boyfriend were having sex and could spy on them again. The garage door would make noise and signal them that she was home and she didn't want to interrupt them in the act. She quietly entered the hou...
"I should've just aborted you, you ungrateful little bastard." ~Linda Wilkinson to eleven year old son Shane~ * February 4, 2011 "Taz likes them," Shane said for the sixth time since entering the stretch limousine. As expected, Rory had lit into him about his piercings. And since Taz's endorsement was the most persuasive argument Shane had working in his...
The Cherokee jeep pulled up outside the exclusively named hotel and spa and the dark haired driver turned to smile at the surprised gasp of his blond companion. He gazed at the angelic face, the luscious lips open in an 'o' of shock. "Think you can put up with spending a couple of days here, love," he asked, his warm voice resonating with amusement. He reac...
I met Wade in a church, of all places. Not that either one of us is religious, and neither one of us was attending a church service there. It was the cathedral in Cologne, Germany. I was bumming around Europe during the summer between university and grad school—I was studying art photography at MICA, the Maryland Institute College of Art, in Baltimore—and Wa...
I've just been called a pervert for wanting to know about their first intimate moments together. My accuser is Miguel, of course, who casually brings the term into play amid a sudden bout of laughter. Caught off guard, I stutter defensively, but he assures me he is only messing around. "Tell you what, I'd be pissed if you left that stuff out. That's called...
This is a new series I've decided to work on. My stories are sometimes called dark because of my reference to abuse, but the way I look at it is not all stories in life are peaches and cream. Weather a story is bright and happy or dark and sad deserve to be told. I give great thanks to my awesome beta reader/editor Shelly for everything that she has done and...
There was hermit on the island that lived in his cabin on a hill. He to wore the traditional loincloth and enjoyed the island's ministrations. His name is Matt and this morning he was eating his breakfast of cereal and juice, his usual breakfast, outside of his cabin. He did this to enjoy the sunshine and sea breeze that would come up his mountain. He did no...