Did I say giveaway?
Yes, there will be prizes! Some will be given individually, by members of the group. And others will be joint gifts - namely three $25 Amazon GC's. But there's a catch! You have to actually go to the Beth Wylde group to participate. So what are you waiting for? Haul your ashes over there and have some fun!
But first....
We're going to be posting some special flash fiction that we wrote for the occasion, our group effort. All of these stories take place in the same universe, on the Queen Bee, our gay cruise ship. There will be recurring characters in some of the story, such as the captain or the cruise director. But each story is individual to the writer who wrote it. Each author will post their story on their blog, and also at Beth Wylde.
Here is my story. I call it Raising the Sail. I hope you like it. We plan to take these bits of flash fiction and create an anthology. I'll keep you posted on that. For now, here's my story, I hope you enjoy it. See you at Beth Wylde!
The tension inside the car was as thick as the air
outside it. Mississippi in the middle of June ran the gamut from chilly and
brisk to hot and sticky. The mid-day sun wasn’t helping the situation any. And
neither was the fact the air conditioning had quit running cold twenty minutes
after they left home, but there wasn’t time to do anything about that now. They
had a plane to catch, places to go. A cruise ship to board.
“Carson, don’t sweat it. Last night... was no big
deal. Honestly.”
“I’d rather not talk about it, Terry.” His voice was
cool, intentionally unemotional, but he gave himself away by white-knuckling
the steering wheel, eyes fixed on the narrow blacktop before them. Living in
bumfuck Mississippi, in the rather small town of Bodega, meant driving to
Memphis to get to a decent-sized airport. Although the town they lived in was
large enough to support businesses of the seedy persuasion, somehow it couldn’t
handle having an airport of any magnitude. Go figure.
He tried not to think about the strip club again.
Why ruin this cruise that had been virtually dumped into their laps with his
own personal issues? Seemed rather self-defeating at best. Terry was a grown
man, capable of making his own decisions. He didn’t need Carson to tell him
what to do, or how to live his life. If Carson trusted him, it shouldn’t
matter.
But somehow it did.
Terry laid a hand on Carson’s thigh and sighed. “Please
don’t be upset, babe. It’s real nice of your sister to take care of the cats
while we’re gone. And pick up our mail. And water the plants.”
Carson Kittredge forced a smile to his lips. He turned
briefly and glanced at his companion. Terry Mancini, his live-in lover of two
years, was so cute it made his heart ache. His brown hair had blond and red
highlights from exposure to the sun; he had the most incredible gray-blue eyes,
and the most devastating smile. So why was Carson unable to get it up with him
anymore? The desire was there, the spirit was willing, but the body—ah the body
was weak.
According to his sister, Caroline, there were a
number of reasons, chief among them Carson’s inability to find work
compensatory with his education and skill set. Sure he had a job, working as a
bookkeeper for a local farm co-op, but it was a far cry from his previous
position with Blumenthal & Weiss, one of the top financial advisors in the
South. But when the economy tanked, so did his career.
And that led to his second frustration—a few months
ago, Terry had taken on a second job. He was dancing at Shake’s, a rather shady
but well-paying men’s club in Bodega.
God, he hated discussing these things with his own
sister, but she was a trained therapist. Plus she had a way of worming things
out of him, whether he wanted her to or not. It was damn humiliating to admit
to anyone that he suffered from… He couldn’t even think it to himself, say the
two words, or even the initials. He’d told her what to do with her offer of a
prescription for the V word—that hadn’t gone over very well at all.
“Get some fresh air, have some fun in the sun, relax
and forget about life for a while.” Those were her parting words, as she shooed
them out the door of their home. He had a feeling, once the door closed, she
made a beeline straight to the refrigerator, which Terry had filled with some
of his best home-cooked dishes. He couldn’t blame her for that. Terry was a
great cook.
Dammit, he was going to do just that. Have fun with
Terry. How often did a trip like this happen to guys like them? Not very often.
He didn’t want to ruin it for Terry. He loved him, he truly did. Which made his
inability to make love to him all the more inexplicable.
It wasn’t just the strip club, though, and he knew
it.
He heard Terry clear his throat beside him. Glancing
up, he saw he was just about to miss the exit to the interstate, the one that
would take them straight to Memphis. Damn. He quickly veered to the right,
grateful no one was behind him, and managed to merge onto the highway.
“I packed plenty of sunscreen.” Terry scooted closer
to Carson on the generous front seat of the old Lincoln. So close their hips
touched. “And lots of lube.” He rubbed his face against Carson’s shoulder in a
rather feline gesture. “And some of our favorite toys. And extra batteries.”
“Sounds like you have it all under control.” Carson
attempted a smile. His face didn’t want to cooperate. It ended up feeling
stiff.
“I just want you to have a good time, babe. This is
our time. You and me. I love you so much, Carson.”
Pangs of guilt knifed his heart. He shouldn’t be
jealous of Terry. Terry was the best, and he’d never given Carson any reason to
doubt him. Never.
“Did you pack a swimsuit? According to the brochure,
there’s a big pool onboard the ship.”
“Yep, I did. The red pair you like so much.”
“The extra tight ones?” Oh Lordy, how hot those
were, the way they hugged Terry’s sexy ass, and just barely revealed a touch of
the tasty flesh beneath. If that didn’t serve to get a rise from his libido, he
didn’t know what would.
And wasn’t that a depressing thought.
“What’s the name of the ship again?” he asked, just
to distract himself.
“Queen Bee. San Francisco to Hawaii. Fifteen
glorious nights and sixteen fun-filled days.”
Queen Bee. A fitting name for a gay cruise.
He slung his arm around Terry’s shoulder, and
cuddled him close as they fell into a companionable silence.
to be continued
No comments:
Post a Comment