FYI, this story is a big spoiler for One For The Team. If you haven’t read it and don’t want to know what happens, stop here.

OFTT is a m/f story. This story is about Jason and Davey, two of Jen’s best friends. I assure you, it becomes m/m but it starts out m/f/m.

Here’s a taste of the first chapter as it now stands. Takes place right after Jen and Ken’s wedding.

***********************

Very unedited excerpt, ©2009 Jet Mykles, all rights reserved

They’d all figured Jen could handle it. None of them had intended to change their friendship or turn it into anything long term. Just friends having fun. Then Ken had thrown a wrench into the works. Or, as he claimed, Jen had mucked it up by sleeping with Jason, Bart and Davey but refusing to sleep with Ken. Jason had to admit, that would have ticked him off too. Looking back on the one night when the five of them had been together, Ken was the only one who hadn’t done more than kiss Jen. Of course, she’d stayed the night when him when the rest of them had gone home. That was the night Ken had seen the proverbial light and asked Jen to marry him. Jason was happy for them. He was. Looking at them now, he wondered why no one had seen that they were meant for each other before.

But. That didn’t help him tonight. Clearly, if he was going to find companionship, he would have to go elsewhere.

Setting his glass down on the pristine white tablecloth, he stood. Jen and Ken were busy so he chose not to bother them. He’d already bestowed his congratulations on the happy couple and he’d see them at work on Wednesday anyway since they weren’t going on their honeymoon until November. Bart would be busy elsewhere in the restaurant since it was open for business tonight as well.

Where was Davey? The little snot was his ride home, which was the only reason he was still drinking. Last time he’d seen the other man had been when there were still people dancing on the miniature floor. That had to have been an hour or so ago. As he meandered toward the door leading out of the banquet room, Jason pulled out his cell and sent a text to his friend: Where r you?

Once out of the hall, he edged around a small dining area toward the buzz of conversation that surrounded the bar. The area was pretty typical of an upscale restaurant like Bart’s. Up two steps and Jason was surrounded by shining polished wood, mirrors and muted lighting. A few mini tables were scattered in the open area on one side, but the main focus was the long bar and the shelves of booze behind on mirrored shelves. There was only about a dozen people there and he recognized a few from the wedding. He waved to Ken’s sister with her hubby and Tina and Dan from work, but headed for the end of the bar. He set down his empty glass and watched a few pitches in the Pirates/Brewers game while he waited for Jake, the bartender, to finish up and bring him another.

“Damn,” he muttered to himself, watching the roll of scores across the bottom of the plasma screen mounted on the wall. Mets won again. That meant his beloved Braves were another game down. It was a damn sure bet they weren’t going to make it to the playoffs this year.

He was halfway through another Black Russian and well into the next inning of the Rockies/Giants game when Davey finally texted him back. He flipped open the phone to read the message: Come. Back lot.

The parking lot in the back? “Why?” he asked the phone aloud, knowing full well it wouldn’t answer. So he texted it: Why?

A moment later came the reply: Just come.

Typical Davey. No explanation, just an expectation of obedience. Had he moved his car? If so, why? No telling with Davey, of course. He followed his own rules for everything.

Sighing, Jason stood, downed his drink and paid for it while grimacing at the onslaught of rich coffee liqueur down to his gullet. He hoped whatever Davey had in mind was worth it. He didn’t drink Black Russians often and he preferred to savor them.

Well acquainted with the layout of the restaurant, he headed for the darker hallways that led to the restrooms. Beyond the johns was another hall that led both to the manager’s office and employee’s lockers. There was also a fire door that led to the back parking lot. Once outside, he took a moment to let his eyes adjust to the harsh fluorescent directly overhead that cast faux moonlight in the immediate vicinity. The parking lot in back only held ten spaces, meant for kitchen staff and managers. Bart’s beemer sat directly outside the door.

It took a moment but Jason finally located Davey leaning against the dark shadow of his deep blue Mustang GT at the very end of the halo of light. His white dress shirt and light colored slacks stood out against the black background of the trees that stood beyond the pavement, as did the bright pink T-shirt of the girl pressed against him.

What the hell? Jason scowled. Was he going to have to find another way home? That little shit.

Having heard the door open, Davey waved him over with one arm while keeping the other wrapped around the girl.

Muttering to himself, Jason descended the three cement steps of the stoop and crossed the lot. He really shouldn’t begrudge his buddy finding a date. Wasn’t he hoping to do the same thing?

She was cute, too. A little under Davey’s height, which put her around five-feet-four or -five, she had that hair that wasn’t quite brunette and wasn’t quite blonde but was kind of both, cut short level with her rounded chin. She had a slim little body with a tight belly shown off by the way her T-shirt rode up because her arms were around Davey’s neck. When she turned to grin at Jason, he guessed she was around their age with a bright smile and carefully plucked eyebrows. He couldn’t tell the color of her eyes because it was too dark in the lot.

Jason stopped a few paces away from them and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his slacks. “What’s up?”

Davey grinned, the lenses of his thick-rimmed glasses catching a glint from the light behind Jason. “This is Tacy.”

The girl unwound her arms and turned to face Jason but kept her hip snuggled up against Davey. She extended a hand to Jason. “‘Stacey’ without the ‘s’. Hi.”

He took it, mustering a smile. Maybe she had a friend inside. “Hi.”

Her fingers slid over his palm as their hands parted and she gave him a warm little grin that he couldn’t decipher.

Keeping his eyes on Jason, Davey rubbed her back, making her T-shirt ride up her belly a little more. With the dip of her low-rise jeans, there was a nice bit of soft flesh visible. “Tacy’s never had two guys at once. I told her we could probably accommodate her. What do you think?”

Jason blinked. Then his jaw dropped. “Huh?”

Tacy giggled, propping her back up against Davey so he could slide his arms around her from behind.

Davey wasn’t even fazed by what he’d said. “Tacy wants to do us.”

She giggled again. “Or you do me.”

One of Davey’s thumbs tucked into the waistband of her jeans, right behind the button. “Some of both.”

Jason’s gaze snagged on that thumb, his imagination filling in what was right near it. “You guys are serious?”

“Oh yeah,” Tacy assured him.

“Do I know you?”

Pulling away from Davey, she closed the distance to Jason. Blue. Her eyes were blue. “Not yet.” She let that blue gaze rake him up and down before she spread her palms over his chest, slipping them underneath the lapels of his jacket to lightly press his nipples. “But we can fix that.”

He glanced over her shoulder. Davey remained where he was, arms now folded across his chest. His head was cocked to the side, shiny straight brown hair falling to the side from the tilt of his head. That smug little grin he almost always wore was right there, challenging Jason to take up the offer.

A few months ago, Jason might not have considered it. But, after what had happened with Jen this summer, he was caught. That night the five of them had shared sprung to mind. It had been sexy as hell watching the other guys fuck Jen, knowing they were watching when he was inside her himself. All too vividly he could conjure up the memory of Davey, naked and sheened with sweat as he plowed into Jen from behind. He remembered the fevered glee in Davey’s unshielded eyes when their gazes had met over Jen’s back, Davey fucking her while Jen sucked Jason’s cock. It was the singular most erotic thing he could remember doing in his life.

The light in Davey’s eyes told Jason he remembered the same thing. And wanted to do it again.

Why the hell not?

His thoughts had taken mere seconds. His gaze returned to Tacy’s by the time she spoke again. “What do you say?”

He grinned down at her, setting his hands on the curve of her hips. “I’m game if you are.”

Pairing: m/m/f

Available  in ebook at Loose Id

A woman in Heaven Sent?! Well, yeah, she’s been with them the entire time. Gretchen deserves her HEA!

BLURB:

For years, Gretchen’s main objective has been taking care of the boys of Heaven Sent. When her boys decide to take a hiatus, she decides to do the same.

Before she can begin her summer off, Gretchen has one last public commitment. There, she meets tall, mysterious, and wickedly handsome Archer Thanos. Archer’s company has a video game based on Heaven Sent and he’s has been trying to get in touch with her to discuss it. Their first meeting quickly turns into a discussion of another type … in a nearby hotel room, sending Gretchen headlong into a whirlwind affair she hadn’t anticipated.

Only, someone isn’t exactly thrilled about Gretchen and Archer’s romance. Gretchen’s adorable new assistant, Owen, has been pining for his boss since he started working for her but he hasn’t had the courage to assert himself and tell her he wants her. As a result, Gretchen is completely blind to his feelings for her. And after meeting Archer, Owen knows he has no chance against the handsome devil. His own attraction to the older man is instant and overwhelming, the bisexual urges he hasn’t divulged to Gretchen fully awakening.

Owen thinks he’s not enough for Gretchen. Gretchen thinks Owen is far too young for her. Archer thinks they’re both ridiculous. He knows the three of them are just right for each other, if they can survive the revelations.

*****************************

©2009 Jet Mykles, all rights reserved

“Palm Springs?”

Owen stared at his monitor. “Yeah.”

Jane sighed and perched on the far edge of his desk. “And she just met him this last week?”

“Yeah.”

“Damn. What a life.”

“Yeah.”

“Oh God, would you stop mooning already?”

Scowling, he checked that the office door was closed. “Be a little louder, why don’t you?”

She reached up to smooth a hand over her short, straight black hair. “Oh, no one’s going to hear. Just about everyone’s gone home.”

He turned back to his monitor and tried to ignore her.

He’d known it wouldn’t work. She sat up further on his desk, leaning toward him. “Owen, you know you don’t have a chance with her, right?”

At times like this, he deeply regretted confiding in Jane. But they’d become good friends in the past few months, and he’d needed someone to talk to. Someone who understood. All his other friends were back in Atlanta, and they were too far removed from the business to get it. The only other person was his cousin Ellen. She was way too close to Gretchen for him to tell her anything.

When he didn’t answer her, Jane shook his shoulder.

“Hey.” He scowled up at her.

Her blue eyes narrowed. “She spends most of her time with rockstars, Owen. Gorgeous ones. She eats up handsome, successful men for lunch. She’s got guys like this Archer taking her away on expensive weekends. What could you possibly offer her other than your boyish charm?”

He gave her a mocking sweet smile. “Gee, thanks.”

She smoothed a hand over his hair. “I’m just trying to help you, honey. Mooning over the boss lady is just going to keep you distracted when a girl you can have and should be with comes along.”

He snatched his head away. Women were always petting him, he was used to it, but that didn’t stop it from being annoying when he was peeved. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Okay, okay. Let’s talk about this Saturday.” She clapped her hands like a giddy schoolgirl. “I’ll have to go out shopping for a new dress. You want to come with?”

“Oh yeah, that’s just what I want to do.”

She grimaced. “You know, darling, I have to say that you’re the strangest gay man I’ve ever met.”

That demanded that he give her the look. “I think you’d have to call me bisexual. I like girls too, remember.”

“Yeah. I guess it’s not so outlandish since you work for Heaven Sent after all. Well, once removed.”

Was she trying to depress him more? “Don’t you have a job to do?”

She batted her heavily mascaraed eyes at him, undeterred. “Bored with my company already?”

“Just the topic of conversation.”

“Fine.” She jumped off his desk and patted the folders she’d left in his inbox. “Make sure she sees those. There’s a new director whose work she should look at.”

“Will do.”

“See you later. We’ll make shopping plans.” Giggling at his scowl, she opened the door and left.

Once the door had clicked shut after her, he gave up the pretense of working. Staring morosely at his desk blotter, he began his favorite task since Monday: trying to figure out a way to make Gretchen not go away with this Archer creep for the weekend. So far, no dice. He wasn’t going to do anything drastic, and no one from Heaven Sent had jumped in to demand her attention. The closest was when Chris Faith called for her, but he’d ended up calling her cell and getting his answer. Meantime, he’d had to hear about all her preparations for the trip. He’d even made calls to reserve a private table at a very chic restaurant for her and Archer.

Depressed, he tried to make himself see things a different way. This was a new thing. She hadn’t dated in a long time. She’d barely talked about Archer as more than a sex toy. Maybe that’s all it was. Sex. Still not something Owen wanted to dwell on, but if it was just sex, that meant it would likely blow over soon. He’d heard about her so-called relationships in the past. Nothing that lasted very long. Her career always got in the way. Maybe all Owen had to do was tough it out for a month or so; then she’d get sick of this guy and move on. Yeah, that was a better slant on it.

But it didn’t change the fact that she was going away to get fucked, repeatedly, by this Archer guy.

What did this bozo look like anyway? Owen turned toward his computer and brought up a Web browser. He’d just typed the man’s name in the image browser when a knock sounded. He had enough time to switch windows so that his e-mail was in front before he turned to greet the newcomer.

Whoa. The guy who walked in was movie-star gorgeous. The epitome of tall, dark, and handsome. His golden brown skin set off jet-black hair and matching brows that matched a classy, trimmed Vandyke beard. He wore a casual burgundy shirt unbuttoned just enough to show a hint of chest hair and black slacks over endless legs.

Owen wasn’t sure his own legs would support him if he stood, so he just turned toward the vision. “Hello. May I help you?”

“This is Gretchen Hobbes’s office?”

“Yes. I’m Owen, Ms. Hobbes’s assistant.”

The man stopped in front of his desk and held out his hand. “Owen. Nice to meet you. My name is Archer Thanos.”

Owen’s hand was folded in a warm grip before the name was spoken. He was unable to hide his jump of surprise. “A-archer Thanos?”

“That’s me.”

“I, uh, Gretchen’s told me about you. She said you…” He dropped his gaze to the package in the man’s hand, only to realize that his own hand was still held. He blinked, confused and entranced by the sight of his light tan in contrast to the deep gold-brown of this man’s skin. Yum. He tugged his fingers away so he could reach for the package. The angle made sure that he could check out the man’s other package, a slight bulge in the loose slacks. Yum. “She said you’d be dropping something off.”

Archer held the thick envelope up, just out of Owen’s reach. “Yes. This. It’s a prospectus for a video game.” That smile was just killer. Teeth blinding white in all that darkness. “You play?”

“Huh?”

“Do you game?”

“I’ve, uh, some, but I’m not… Well, that is. Not much.”

The gorgeous man twisted to the side so he could hitch his ass up on the edge of Owen’s desk. He leaned companionably toward Owen as he set the envelope down on the desk blotter. “If you’re interested, I’d be happy to send you some samples.” Hands now free, he dipped two fingers into his chest pocket to extract a slim metal business-card case. A gold ring flashed on his finger as he flipped the case open and extracted a card.

Not until the card was hovering before him, held by two longer fingers, did Owen realize he’d just been watching the man move. Instinctively, he reached for the card. “Oh, I… There’s no reason to give me games. I mean, I wouldn’t be making a decision about this.” Jeez, Owen, get a grip! He’d handled plenty of other people with far more class than this. Why did this man have him rattled? Because this guy’s been inside Gretchen. Strangely, with said man sitting before him, the thought turned him on far more than it pissed him off.

“Oh no, my pleasure. No strings attached. Gretchen made that one perfectly clear this past weekend.”

Owen swallowed, dropping his gaze as he took exaggerated care in setting the man’s card down on top of the folder that was already there. “And you’ll be seeing her this weekend as well.” He heard the words before he could take them back.

“She told you about that, did she?”

“She tells me everything.”

When there was too much silence, he braved a glance up. Another speculative look pointed at him. He seemed to be getting a heck of a lot of those lately. This one, however, made his guts quiver into jelly. “As well she should.”

Owen stared into deep brown eyes, getting lost in the silent heat. He didn’t know what to say, and the man didn’t seem in a hurry to leave or break the silence. Finally, Owen cracked. “Actually, Mr. Thanos…”

“Please. Call me Archer.”

Owen nodded as he turned toward his monitor. “Archer. Gretchen wasn’t sure where you’d be going this weekend. Could you give me a location, just in case?”

The man amiably supplied not only the name of the resort, he pulled out his iPhone and forwarded the reservation information to Owen right on the spot. “Will you need anything else?”

Owen shook his head, trying to make his fingers stop trembling. “No. I think that’s more than enough. Thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome.”

He needed to be polite. Garnering his courage, Owen turned back and spread his hand over the folder on the desk. “I’ll make sure she gets that.”

“Thank you. Please call if you need any more information. And I mean it about the games. Take a look at our Web site. Any games you want, they’re yours for the asking.” He leaned forward on the desk, fingers steepled to support his weight. “You call me personally.”

Owen stared at his fingers, far too frightened of what might happen if he got lost in that smoldering gaze again. He might just have to throw himself at the man. “Thank you.”

“Well, then. I’ll see you later. Owen.”

Owen nodded and smiled, managing to raise his gaze to the man’s collarbone. It was high enough for him to see the smirk. No shit, you’re acting like a simpering schmuck. But it was the best he could manage.

Once Archer left, Owen just sat there, staring at the door, relearning how to breathe. The man was…ungh. No wonder Gretchen was so taken. Owen was afraid he was going to have to make use of the private bathroom in Gretchen’s office unless he could get control of the hard-on in his pants. He sat back and kept breathing until he brought his heart and groin under control enough to reach over to his keyboard to bring up the image search that he’d started before the man himself had come through the door.

“There’s no way,” he whispered, gazing at a smiling photograph of the man. “There’s no way you’ve got a chance in hell against this guy.”

*********************

Click here for Jet’s website’s main page on Heaven Sent: Revelations

What happens when a conservative girl sneaks in to a BDSM club for a look and makes an impression on the Master trainer? He pulls out all stops to claim her for himself. Her secret fantasy scared her to death so why did his masterful ways prove so irresistible?

Available NOW from Total-E-Bound.

So do you want to read an excerpt?  Read on….EXCERPT from THE MASTER’S PRIZE Copyright 2009 Maggie Nash.

Bloody hell, why did he have to be so damn gorgeous? She’d looked him up on the Internet and the photos she’d found didn’t do him justice at all. The shaggy dark brown hair was the same, but those dark blue eyes rimmed by those incredibly long eyelashes, and that lopsided grin? Oh man, then there was his body. It should be illegal for a man to have shoulders so broad and a bum so muscular you just wanted to sink your teeth into it.

It doesn’t matter.

She still didn’t want to go out with him, especially after the arrogant way he’d been pursuing her. He didn’t seem to understand the meaning of the word ‘no’, and she still didn’t understand why he picked her. She was sure they’d never met in person before. In fact, along with the mask, she’d been careful not to interact with anyone at that club. She wasn’t sure she was ready to explore that particular fantasy for real. Not yet.

Anyway, it was the principle of the thing. She had no time for rich jerks who thought they only had to flash some cash and every woman would jump at being their slave. She’d already done the rich boyfriend thing and it sucked big time. Even if she did fantasise about giving over control of her body to a dominant lover, she always chose her own men on her own terms, and that was the way she liked it. If she kept reminding her self of that fact, she just might believe it too.

Mitch caught her looking and smiled with that impossibly sexy mouth. Oh man, what a smug smile. Even if he did make her insides shiver, she wasn’t putting up with smug. Standing up straight to her full five foot seven in height, she stared him right in the face… around about his chin level actually…and spoke.

“And who might you be?”

The smile didn’t waver even for a millisecond. He was good, but she was better.

“I take it you have the required money with you, Mr….? What did you say your name was?”

Davo stepped in between them, grabbing Elise’s hand. “Elise love, don’t you recognise him? This is Mitchell Collins. He’s the owner of Collins Technology. Of course he has the money, and if he hasn’t got it on him, I know he’s good for it.”

Throwing Davo’s hand back to him, Elise moved to stand beside him so she could keep an eye on her quarry. “Oh? You sell computers or something?” She knew exactly how much he was worth, but there was no way she was letting him know that. Let him put that in his pipe and smoke it!

The corners of his mouth kicked up just a touch. “Something like that, Elise. And please call me Mitch. There’s no need to be so formal under the circumstances now is there?” In a few minutes, we’ll be on quite intimate terms.”

Her mind went into overdrive. Oh shit! This was the man in her fantasy dreams. Oh God, don’t lose it now, Elise. Forcing herself to calm down, she took a deep breath in and blew it out slowly. She could do calm. She was in complete control of herself. And pigs might fly too, but she was sure going to give it a try.

“Why not, Mr. Collins? In a few minutes, it will be all over and we’ll probably never see each other again. Why bother getting familiar?”

Mitch laughed. A deep, throaty, sexy laugh. Damn. Why did that sound make her panties dampen of their own accord?

THE MASTER’S PRIZE

Available NOW from Total-E-Bound.

<<< Buy link for MLR Press soon

Buy link for AMP >>>

BLURB

When Steven helps his neighbor Devon move into the studio apartment upstairs, he can’t help but drool. And that’s all. Devon is straight and totally off limits. Knowing, though, doesn’t stop the desire Steven fights every time the two men are together, which is a lot since Steven has decided to take Devon under his wing until the young man can get his life together

*********************

©2008 Jet Mykles, all rights reserved

Crash!

The spoon in Steven’s hand slipped from his fingers, clattering to the table and spattering alfredo sauce. “What the …?”

“Watch it.” Patty stood, hands out to steady the pot in his hands.

Setting the pot down, he dropped the potholder beside it and rushed to the front door toward the sound, trusting Patty to clean up the small mess behind him.

Opening the door, he nearly stumbled over a basketball that came rolling into his apartment. Instinctively picking it up, he stuck his head out into the hallway to see where it had come from. To his left, the staircase leading up to the four studio apartments on the floor above his was strewn with personal effects, including a photo album that had spilled dozens of loose photographs over the worn cement slats. At the bottom of the stairs, a man with short, dark hair, dressed in a blue t-shirt and knee-length cut-off shorts, knelt over what looked to be a shattered glass object, muttering as he carefully picked up pieces.

“Hey.” Steven stepped into the hall, tucking the basketball underneath his arm. “You need help with that?”

The man looked up, and Steven was stunned to behold the face of an angel. Okay, maybe not an angel, but a damned beautiful male specimen, just the same. The hair was deep chestnut, cut short around his ears, mostly straight and glossy but with a little bit of a curl at the ends. A stray curl of said hair brushed dark, heavy brows that shielded the biggest, most amazing brown eyes Steven had ever seen, ringed with ridiculously long black lashes. A scattering of faint freckles dotted a patrician nose with a tip that listed slightly to the left, both it and the cheekbones sloping down toward a generous, kissable mouth perched right atop a small brown poet’s beard. That mouth was currently dropped open in surprise. The eyes were almost as wide as the mouth, and two telltale tears tracked down smooth cheeks the color of dark butterscotch.

Caught looking, Steven couldn’t help but take another step forward.

His movement seemed to break the immobility of the younger man. Quickly, he shook his head. “Uh, no. Uh, thanks.” He turned to look down at the glass at his feet, quickly swiping a sleeve over his cheek. “No, I, uh … I’m fine. I just …” He gestured at the glass. “Broke … something.”

Glancing down, Steven saw the remains of what might once have been a very pretty glass sculpture. He caught the elegant curve of a horse’s neck and a larger hunk of perhaps a carriage. “I’m sorry.”

The young man shrugged. Although the hair hid his face, Steven heard a small sniff. “My fault. I didn’t pack it right.” He shrugged again.

Steven put two and two together. “Are you the new tenant?”

The chestnut hair swayed in a nod.

“Well, hey, welcome to the building. Can I help you with some boxes or something?”

“Oh, no, that’s … nice of you, but no. I’ll have it done in …” A panicked look at the spilled personal effects around him, then another shrug. “I’ll get it done.”

“No worries.” Steven stepped past him and righted the box that lay over a few of the bottom stairs. “Let’s just get this stuff back in here. I’ve got a dust pan we can use to clean up the glass.” He kept his tone brisk, guessing that the glass figure had meant something special to the young man and not wanting to make him uncomfortable by noticing. Carefully, he picked up the picture album, trying not to spill any more loose photographs.

“You don’t have to …”

“Ahem.”

Steven stopped, a photo in his hand of the young man with a comely young woman, and looked over his shoulder to face Patty, who stood in his doorway, arms crossed over her considerable bosom. “Oh, hey!” He ignored her pointed look and dropped the album and photo into the box. “Patty, you go ahead and eat. I’m going to help out …” He looked down at the man kneeling beside him. “What’s your name?”

The man looked at Patty, no doubt noticing her impatient look. “What? Oh, Devon. Uh, hey, you don’t have to –”

“Devon.” Gorgeous name. Suited him. Too bad many of the pictures Steven spied spilling from the album were of him with girls. Which meant he was almost definitely straight. Too bad. Steven smiled up at Patty. “I’m going to help Devon here move the last of his stuff up to his place. He’s our new neighbor.”

Predictably, she wasn’t impressed, although some of the pique melted from her face as she finally got a good, hard look at Devon. Patty was even more susceptible to the helpless puppy look than he was, and this kid had the look down pat with the mannerisms to match. “Don’t be silly. I’ll put it back on the stove and cover it. Then I’ll come out and help you.”

“Wait!” Devon climbed to his feet, hand out toward her, but she’d already turned back inside. He couldn’t know that mere words wouldn’t stop Patty.

Because Devon was looking the other way, Steven took a look at him standing tall. “Tall” being the operative word. Steven was a respectable five foot ten, but the boy overshot him by at least half a foot, putting Steven eye-level with the gently curved jaw and the soft scruff of beard at the tip of Devon’s chin. Resisting the urge to reach out and test the strength in the broad shoulders within that worn t-shirt, Steven turned and knelt to continue picking stuff off the stairs.

“Hey, wait.”

A hand on his arm made him pause, although he didn’t look up. Not good to ogle the new guy too much.

“You don’t have to do this. You were just about to eat, and your wife’s waiting for you.”

Steven had to grin. “No worries. She’s not my wife, and it’ll wait.” He dumped a few more things into the box. “Besides –” He picked up the box and finally looked back at Devon. “– this way you can join us. You eaten yet?”

Indecisiveness twisted that gorgeous mouth to the side. “Well, no …”

“I thought not. Let’s get your stuff upstairs, and I’ll welcome you to the building by feeding you. You’ve got to be hungry.”

“No. That’s nice of you but …” Despite Devon’s protests, his belly took that moment to growl its own opinion.

Steven smiled. Bracing the box underneath one arm, he reached out and finally took a squeeze of one of those arms. Very nice. Strong and firm, with good tone. “No protesting, my man. We’re neighbors now. You’ve got to give Patty and me a chance to get to know you.”

Maybe his smile did it. Steven didn’t know, but whatever he did, Devon finally smiled. Sweet Jesus, the boy had a gorgeous smile. Steven had to send urgent messages to his crotch to keep it from filling at the mere sight.

Devon nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”

Steven held out his hand for a shake. “Steven Connolly.”

Devon took it and gave it a good shake. “Devon Pavenic.”

*********************

Click here for my website’s main page on Devon Cream

The Holiday of Purim and “In the Lion’s Den”
Today is Purim, a fun-filled day for Jewish children and adults, alike.

Purim offers religious Jewish children an opportunity to dress up in funny clothes and also as the main characters in the holiday in a manner similar to Halloween, a holiday not celebrated by more orthodox Jews. After all, Halloween is associated with pagan themes, but Purim — as joyous and free wheeling as Mardi Gras — easily fills the need for fun. In fact, one is encouraged to drink until you can’t tell the difference between Haman, the villain and Mordecai, the hero. Purim is celebrated by just about every group of gay and lesbian Jews.

So, how does Purim relate to my story? “In the Lion’s Den”, the first story in BEND IN THE ROAD, is set in the 1880s during the holiday of Purim. The story was submitted for MLR’s cross-dressing anthology and the celebration of Purim has long been associated with cross-dressing and other unique issues.  When I researched the holiday I found that parodies and entertainment that mocked established Judaism were a widespread component of Purim observances. I learned that written records of the Purim shpiel (Yiddish for “Purim play”) could be found in Europe from the 14th century on. Purim shpiels and entertainments at weddings (as in my second story, “From Stage to Stage”) were the sole source of Jewish popular pursuits for centuries. The sarcastic content of Purim plays and the spoofing, cross-dressing, and drunken revelry surrounding them offered an opportunity to explore boundary-crossing matters of gender, sexuality, authority, and relations with the gentile world in a safe setting like the traveling Yiddish theater troupe where cross-dressing was common during its early days. The cross-dressing that appears in “In the Lion’s Den” then, would be acceptable.
Dani, the young protagonist in the story has a fondness for women’s clothing. In this scene, we get a glimpse into his feelings.

SET UP: Dani has been asked to take over the part of Queen Esther in the Purim play because Shmuel who usually plays the part has been injured. This is Dani’s first time performing the cross-dressing female lead.

EXCERPT:

Rivkeh turned to Leah. “Did you finish ironing Dani’s costume?”

“I steamed it. I didn’t want to take a chance and burn it.

Remember what happened to Shmuel’s milkmaid outfit last

year? We had to rush around trying to find some material to

cover that burned hole. You remember, Dani? You teased poor

Shmuel about it. We had to discard the costume after the

performance. What a waste!”

Dani ducked his head beneath the voluminous folds of the

netting. He did indeed remember the costume because he had

snuck it out of the ragbag. The burn marks may have made it

impossible for their public performances, but not for his private

ones. He had folded it up and put it away in one of his drawers.

Before Aryeh had shared his wagon, he would take it out as

often as he could when Yankl had been performing or

rehearsing.

He’d strip to his gotkes and unbutton the top. He hadn’t

dared to strip naked below the long, full skirt, white apron and

low bodice. If he could only feel the soft cotton petticoat

caressing his legs and shmekl, he knew it would be the most

glorious sensation in the world.

He was wrong.

Aryeh’s kisses were the most glorious sensation.

Just thinking of Aryeh’s lips and hands touching him made

his penis harden and his baytsim tighten. He shivered.

“Are you cold, tateleh? Maybe you should leave on the top

of your drawers.”

“I’m fine, Tante. Aryeh and I checked. It fits better without

the top. Shmuel has a different shaped body than me.”

Both Rivkeh and Leah giggled.

“I should think so,” Rivkeh said. “You have such nice broad

shoulders and a trim waist. Shmuel, well, let’s just say you’re

prettier than him!”

The women turned, pinned, draped, hemmed and made

tsking sounds for an eternity it seemed to Dani. Finally, they

were finished.

“Shayna punim! Shayna meydleleh!” Rivkeh clapped her

hands with appreciation. “What do you think, Leah?”

“He makes a beautiful girl, better than Shmuel. Give a look

in the mirror, Danaleh.”

The three quarter mirror was unearthed from beneath the

pile of costumes draped on top of it.

“Look, tateleh.”

Dani stepped in front of the mirror and gasped. Was that

him with the tiny waist and creamy skin? The false set of breasts

was just the right size for a young woman, not exaggerated like

Yossi’s tits. They looked real. The scarf was pinned in such a

way that it concealed the fact that he wore a fall of curls to

augment his own hair. His eyes sparkled and his cheeks were

flushed from all the effort he’d put into getting fitted.

“Wait, I have some pretty ankle high boots that are covered

with gold cloth. They may fit you. They were mine when I was a

young woman and skinny like you.”

Rivkeh dived back into the closet. In a few minutes she

appeared holding aloft a paper box.

“Here, boytshik, try them on. The heel’s a bit higher than

your regular shoes and more dainty.” She turned and waved an

admonishing finger in front of Leah’s face. “Don’t laugh. I was

young once!”

Dani sat down on the chair, untied his boots and pulled

them off.

“Tsa! You’ll need some lighter-weight stockings.” She

started opening up drawers, digging in among hankies, socks,

stockings and other undergarments and wearing apparel. “These will do. I knew we had a pair somewhere.”

In Rivkeh’s hands was a pair of women’s tights, garters and

long drawers.

“Go into the closet, take off your gotkes and put these on.”

She dumped the items in Dani’s arms, a satisfied look on her

face.

Dani’s face, however, was a mask of confusion.

“How do I…?”

Rivkeh raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Such a kop, I have!

Pull up the stockings as high as they’ll go, then tie them with

these pretty ribbons, then pull on the drawers. They’ll probably

reach to your knees you’re so tall. When you’re done, come out

and Leah will help you with your boots. I can’t bend so much

now, you know.” She took in Dani’s face and laughed. “Close

your mouth, boytshik, you’ll catch flies.”

Dani shook his head. “I’ll be right out.”

“No rush. Make sure you tie the garters tightly enough.”

Dani entered the closet. The lamp hanging from the ceiling

cast a soft glow on the jam-packed contents. He found a stool

and sat down. He tugged off his socks and then pulled down his

gotkes. Now he was totally naked beneath the frilly costume.

The feel of the soft material on his bare flesh was incredible.

He’d worn his underwear under the damaged costume. He had

never felt his skin against his outer garments.

He smoothed the hose on his legs, drawing them up to just a

few inches above the knee and wrapped the ribbons around

them. The sensation was exquisite. The tight length of ribbon

and the white hose hugging his legs sent shivers through his

body.

He thrust his legs into the cotton drawers and tied the waist.

The drawers’ little ruffled cuffs hit just above the knee. He

stuck out one trim limb and admired the sleek outline of his calf

and the adorable pink bow around the edge of the drawers.

He unbuttoned the boots. The lace insert on either side of

the flaps slimmed his foot. He couldn’t wait to see the full

effect. Fortunately, a buttonhook hung on a nail by the door.

He tugged on the footwear and, his hands trembling, did up the

boots as tightly as possible, too impatient to stop for Leah’s

help.

He stood up and grabbed onto the shelves for support. It

wasn’t that the shoes were uncomfortable, he just couldn’t stop

his knees from turning into jelly.

He opened the door with trepidation, not knowing what the

full affect would be on Rivkeh and Leah.

He needn’t have worried.

“Gorgeous! Like the Queen of Sheba!” Leah whispered.

“No. Like Queen Esther,” Rivkeh chided. “Walk for us

Danaleh so we can adjust the dress.”

Dani glided down the length of the wagon to the mirror and

halted.

The tips of the boots peeped out from beneath the netted

overskirt and the satin underskirt. The scarf and the billowy

sleeves made his waist tiny.

He gasped.

“Can you breathe with the lacing of the bodice? You move

like a swan.”

He nodded.

“Then go and show everyone what a Queen should look

like!” Rivkeh gave him a little push and he opened the door.

Lifting his skirts high, he gingerly stepped down the three treads

to the ground and made his way to the stage. * * * *
I hope you enjoyed this little glimpse into Dani’s world.

]]> http://www.leagueofamazingwriters.com/wp/2009/03/10/in-the-lions-den-from-bend-in-the-road/feed/ 4 http://www.leagueofamazingwriters.com/wp/2008/11/18/excerpt-the-shape-of-a-heart/ http://www.leagueofamazingwriters.com/wp/2008/11/18/excerpt-the-shape-of-a-heart/#comments Tue, 18 Nov 2008 13:00:54 +0000 Kimberly Gardner http://www.leagueofamazingwriters.com/wp/?p=222 Here’s an unedited excerpt from my novella, The Shape Of a Heart, which will appear in the Hot Comfort anthology from MLR Press.

Blurb

Grieving after the death of his partner, Zach finds comfort amidst bookshelves and coffee beans in the arms of his new employee, but a secret from Keith’s
past will threaten their new-found happiness and test the strength of their tender, new love.

Copyright 2008 by Kimberly Gardner, all rights reserved.

Excerpt
Keith opened the refrigerator, grabbed the wedge of Locatelli Romano from the top shelf and set it on the counter. What else? While the cool air caressed his heated skin he reviewed the ingredients for the dinner he was cooking for Zach.

The salmon in its white paper sat next to the colander of spring mix, rinsed and ready to go. The little basket of raspberries for the vinaigrette peeked out from behind the tall, dessert glasses filled with chocolate mousse. Maybe they would eat the mousse in bed. That would be fun.

He set garlic, olive oil and a bunch of fresh basil on the counter beside the cheese. He would make the pesto then the dressing for the salad before he went and changed his shirt. He needed shoes too but he had plenty of time before Zach arrived.

It was a long time since he’d last cooked dinner for a man and he’d missed it. Everything from planning the menu to selecting the ingredients to the actual cooking and eating of the food, he loved it all. Food was so sensual, the sharing of a meal so intimate, it truly was one of the great pleasures of life, a pleasure he would share with Zach tonight. But not the only pleasure they would share if he had his way, and he thought he just might.

Humming quietly, Keith took the grater down from the cabinet and set it next to the bowl. He unwrapped the cheese and had just begun to work when the doorbell rang.

He glanced at the clock. Too early for Zach and he didn’t know that many other people in New Hope, none well enough for them to just drop in.

He set the cheese in the bowl and the grater down next to it. Going to the window, he Twitched the curtain aside and peered out.

Zach stood on the front step, one hand in the pocket of his beat-up leather jacket, a wine bottle tucked under his arm. His head was turned and he was looking back toward the street, his profile cast in shadows by the fading light. He looked incredible. Dark and sexy and just a little dangerous.

And I look like shit, Keith thought with a grimace. Nothing he could do about that now.

He ran his fingers through his messy hair, not that it would help, then opened the door, a ready smile curving his lips.

“Hey, Zach, you’re early.”

Zach turned, a frown creased his brow and his eyes snapped with blue fire. “You always just fling the door open without asking who it is? I could have been anybody.”

Zach was scolding him for not being careful. It should have pissed him off. But far from that, the lecture made Keith feel warm all over. God, he was so gone on this guy it was pathetic.

“I looked out the window.”

Then, because Zach looked so serious, “Besides, you aren’t just anyone, you’re you.”

“That’s not the point. I could have been-”

“Whoa.” Keith held up a hand. “What are you, the door police?”

Some unreadable expression flickered in Zach’s eyes. “No, forget it.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Just forget it. Please?”

That was weird. Keith shrugged it off. It didn’t matter. Zach was here.

“So, are you just going to stand outside all night, or are you coming in?” He opened the door wider.

Zach stepped inside and, pausing in the tiny foyer, held out the wine. “This is for you. It’s … Wine.”

Keith laughed. “I can see that.” He took the bottle and turned it so the light fell on the label. “Chardonnay, perfect.”

Zach said nothing.

Keith looked up from his examination of the label and found Zach’s gaze on him. His mouth went dry and his pulse sped up. The small foyer and Zach’s size combined to bring the two of them thrillingly close.

They stared at each other in silence. Keith’s gaze fixed on Zach’s mouth, those tempting lips he had yet to sample.

What the hell.

Keith set the wine bottle down on the hall-table. Laying his palms on Zach’s broad shoulders, he rose on tiptoe and pressed his mouth to Zach’s.

For the space of several heartbeats, Zach stood frozen, not touching, not kissing back. Keith wasn’t even sure he breathed.

Shit.

A voice in Keith’s head whispered, bad idea, dude. His heart beat wildly but he refused to chicken out. He wanted this kiss, had wanted it for a long time and if Zach wouldn’t give it then, damn it, he would just take it.

He ran the tip of his tongue along the closed seam of Zach’s lips, asking for entrance.

Zach made a sound in his throat, half sigh and half growl. All at once his arms wrapped around Keith’s waist and Keith was dragged against him. Zach’s lips parted and his tongue met Keith’s. Met, conquered then invaded his mouth as Zach took control of the kiss.

Held tight against Zach’s body, Keith found himself on the receiving end of a soul-searing, heart-stopping lip-lock that was everything he’d dreamed it would be and more because it was real, a no-holds-barred full contact kiss. His mouth was plundered as hands rucked up his t-shirt and found skin. A wave of pure lust swept through him, at once hardening his cock and weakening his knees. He’d been swept up in hurricane Zach and all he could do was hang on.

So much for a slow seduction.

As suddenly as it began the kiss broke. Zach tore his mouth from Keith’s and practically shoved him away.

“Christ.” Zach scrubbed the back of one hand over his mouth.

Keith crushed the hurt that wanted to come. Zach’s hand trembled and that hurt turned to triumph. He’d shaken Zach, and done it with just a kiss.

Damn.

Keith resisted touching his fingers to his own bruised and puffy lips. He settled for smiling up at Zach. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Zach’s expression softened. One of those rare smiles curved his lips. It reached all the way to his eyes making them sparkle and bringing those sexy crinkles at the corners.

Keith’s heart did a little back-flip and his stomach fluttered with excitement. Oh yeah, tonight they would be sharing much more than a meal.

“Want to come in?” He grabbed the bottle of chardonnay from the hall-table and held it up. “I’ve got wine.”