I'm published!

Granted, my e-book is freely available for downloads, but it was given away prior and therefore, I feel, unethical for me to attempt selling. And it's for a good cause, to promote traffic on Mel Keegan's wiki site, The GLBT Bookshelf! The man kindly put together my humble story with a beautiful cover by Jade. If you're interested in great, gay oriented fiction, come on over for some great titles! Please stop by and support our various artists:

Free Gay Reads

Below you'll find an excerpt. First, I need to rectify an error. I neglected to credit any of the wonderful folks who aid and inspire my writing. Special thanks to Dilo Keith, A. Catherine Noon, Nikki Memmott, Evilynne, and Myladymystere! You've all improved my writing (any and all shortcomings are mine alone). For anyone not listed, please forgive my need for brevity!

Now, meet Michael Blanc, Corporate Stress Reliever by trade and optimist by choice. He knows all too well that life can throw rotten fruit in your face. In 2186, Michael makes the most of just desserts. Employed as confidante and lover to those that make up the whipped cream topping on that big apple pie, New York, New York, Michael has survived the whipping and now nibbles a nice, big slice of the pie.

Excerpt from "Memoirs of a Corporate Stress Reliever":

“Michael,” Javier crooned. “You look magnifico.”

“I feel magnificent, thanks to you.”

The fact that he used my first name indicates his pride more than anything else he could have said. We both know my relationship with Mr. X is like securing a pension. I don’t plan on ever being exclusively his and that suits me just fine.

I soon reach the car, a classy current model. The firm keeps nothing junky and replaces anything outmoded. That edict extends to people. Today, confident and titillated, I don’t allow the knowledge to bother me in the slightest.

My surety fades as time passes and I am alone in my office to rattle about the space. He’s a busy man whose schedule can change in a heartbeat yet I never failed to get a courtesy call before this. Not from him, understandably, the word filters down to some undersecretary charged with my notification.

I keep telling myself this lapse has nothing of import attached. The unprecedented consideration was never forthcoming in any other organization, let alone from the CEO!

Forcing myself, I eat my lunchtime salad. Gloves and jacket come off for this, then are put right back on when I finish. Half the food tossed, the usually tasty staple held no taste for me. I remain too aware of the clock and Javier’s obviously wasted effort on my appearance, not to mention my waste to the company’s bottom line.

I’m standing in front of the full length mirror primping again when I hear his code unlock the door. Thank the shadow faeries! I couldn’t schedule anyone else in his stead without permission and zero productivity is a black mark no matter what the cause.

Flanking him are two identical young women. Girls, really, they offend me with their presence. How dare he sully my space so? And I can say nothing, essentially owned by way of my contract.

He ushers the dull creatures inside. Eyes bleary, he gropes one unsteadily. She shows no response, obviously doped for smuggling. It makes me sick.

“I brought you a souvenir. There’s one for each of us!”

Bile rising, I swallow my fury and revulsion. Mentally I seek some excuse, a way out, knowing none exists.

“You should see your face. I’m sorry. Bad joke,” he scolds himself. Then he yells at the closed door, “Smith! Take your trash away!”

Turning back to me, he grins lopsidedly. Is he drunk? If I didn’t know better, I’d say he smells like grain alcohol. A decade since prohibition, defunct drinking establishments have all turned into oxygen and juice bars.

The other man makes two attempts with his own code before entering. His nose and cheeks are beet red.

“See? Michael’s not amused. That was mean,” Smith slurs.

He genuinely respects me. I’d been a sympathetic ear over several bad deals and one rotten divorce. I’ll try to forget this procurement of the twins he hauls out of sight. He winks at us behind their skinny backs.

I secure the entrance against additional intrusion. When I turn back, the master of my domain has quietly sprawled in a doze on the couch. Now what?

Remembering my training, I put on his favorite instrumental and take a seat close by. The music has always helped him relax and he sleeps safe and well. This resolution ends my distress if leaving me bored. I try to think of boredom as extravagance instead of what it is. I dislike inactivity. In any case, I have the visit on record.

Allowing my mind to drift, I slip into a waking dream state to halt the encroaching restlessness. My comportment calm, I preserve a rigid posture of ready servitude.

A shift beside me calls back my awareness. Bloodshot eyes regard me. They are not unkind, almost apologetic.

I hope this whets your appetite. A steamier snippet is up on my Sand Castles blog. Happy reading!