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This blog tends to wander from its main purpose -- updates on my fiction. I do have updates and excerpts of my work. But I also write about my obsessions -- food, friends and pop culture and my weird life in Los Angeles. Enjoy!

Tuesday, April 28, 2015

Not So Month of Fun, Other Disasters and a Few Bright Spots

April has not been a good month for me. I am embroiled in a bureaucratic nightmare involving my insurance and other aid that is taking weeks to sort out. This happened on the heels of a diagnosis of a debilitating condition that can only be managed and not cured. The plans to manage it are on hold until I can get my insurance back. Thus, I am in constant near excruciating pain. I am not sleeping well. I have not been able to swim in weeks. I actually feel worse than my 8th round of chemo – the one that put me in the hospital. Coping is an hour by hour process right now as I wait for this to right itself or decide to go postal. It could go either way depending on the hour.

Needless to say, I could really use a magical Month of Fun this May. I haven't really been able to plan any big outings, because I just can't think that far ahead. I also don't know what we'll be able to afford. Not that I am into large presents during the MoF. It's that things really are that tight right now. So, right now, my goals are to get back to my routine since coming home from Philly last year and maybe indulge in cooking something interesting. Maybe there will be a bottle of bubbly somewhere.

There is good news that keeps me going. Of course, my not wanting to go out of the house meant that some things started happening with the films that required I go sign contracts. And I had a long and hellish communte for a meeting that will mean a lot to the publishing company and our convention travels. I can't give details about any of it right now, but I hope to break a lot of that news next month. It was nice to find that I have fans in some surprising places.

And then, there is Vampire Rent Boy. It was born of a flippant comment from Jon about a stock photo I was looking at. It's turned into my first erotic parody for publication since The Secret Logs of Mistress Janeway. It is already a bestseller in four categories on Amazon Kindle. It is not for the faint hearted, but is it is terribly funny. Here's a relatively tame excerpt:

“The hardest part, actually, is trying to appear excited about a St. Andrew's Cross,” Tristan said bleakly. “I mean, who hasn't been tied up on a St. Andrew's Cross?”
Tristan didn't realize that his current popularity was largely because of Twilight. He had stopped reading with the advent of talkies, and he was always behind on popular culture. On the other hand, Klaus, Tristan's manager – he hated the word pimp – loved vampire fever. Clients paid obscene amounts of money for playmates who didn't break.
Despite his immortality, some of those encounters with his clients could be incredibly difficult. Thus, like legions of courtesans – Tristan really hated the term whore or hooker – he found himself in a booth at a tavern, in this case a local waterhole called Muttley's, trying to drown his sorrows. He didn't drink, but it did help to share woes with the others in Klaus' stable.
“Yeah, a sub can't ask a Dom to kindly shove this dildo gag in your pie hole,” Keiko muttered. Then, she smiled with glee. “That's why I'm so glad I never let my clients drive!”
Keiko's smile was more chilling than lovely, even with that beautiful face. She could easily earn ten times what Tristan earned, but she refused to bottom. Tristan wondered why Klaus never forced the issue. He wouldn't stand for the rest of them having a preference for clients.
“We know what happened the last time one of them drove,” Kevin quipped over his martini.
Tristan didn't know what happened, and judging from the killing glare Keiko shot Kevin, it wouldn't be wise to ask. Tristan really wished he could have a martini. It looked so clear and crisp. It seemed to him that it should ping.
“Shut. Up. Kevin,” Keiko hissed.
“It's Miranda to you, honey.”
“Now, now,” Tristan said before Kevin could open his mouth again. “Let's not fight, okay. I get so little time to talk to anyone who gets me.”
Kevin sighed as he reached over to stroke Tristan's waist length, jet black hair.
“I really don't know why you get so glum, Trissy,” he murmured. “You've always been comfortable in you own skin.”
“You would be, too if you'd pick one,” Keiko said sweetly.
Tristan put a hand on Kevin's thigh to keep him from getting angry.
“That's not fair, Keiko,” Tristan said with a shake of his head. “It's not easy to change gender. I find that it can be done at all a marvel. Such notions would have been considered witchcraft in my day.”
“Whatever. He's not getting snipped anytime soon,” Keiko retorted. “He doesn't call himself a she. And he still uses Kevin, despite the mega tits. Do you even have a girl name?”
“I told you! Miranda!” Kevin snapped before slogging down the martini.
“It's Miranda this week!” Keiko snapped
“I need another drink.”
“Go easy on that, Kevin dear,” Tristan said then whispered. “Klaus won't like it.”
“Screw him. I'm paying for the drinks, and that's renting the booth,” he muttered before stalking to the bar.
The weight of Kevin's breasts made his gait ungainly. The F-M heels made him look like a hazard to life and limb. Tristan wondered vaguely about how Kevin walked when he was his other self. He looked over at Keiko who was watching Kevin as well.
“Don't say it,” Keiko murmured. “I know I'm being a bitch to him today. You haven't been listening to him whine for the last hour about something he can fix on his own.”
Tristan couldn't argue the point. That would involve thinking, and that would give him a headache. Instead, he looked at Klaus' resident Dominatrix expectantly.
“I'm more than over clients that get pissed when I won't let them top from below,” she said. “Trying to keep from breaking every bone in their arrogant bodies leaves me really infuriated.”
“Why do they ask for a Dominatrix then?” Tristan asked.
“Honey, if you find out, let me know,” she muttered. “Klaus should know these young guys don't want someone like me. They barely know who they are. None of them are confident enough to really bottom for a Domme.”
“Klaus likes the money,” Tristan said.
“That's very true,” she admitted. “He's send me to a gorilla cage if the gorilla had a platinum card.”
That made Tristan laugh. He finally felt like smiling.
Kevin returned by then in a far better mood. Tristan thought it may have been the new pitcher of martinis, but he was trying to get them to look at a booth across the room.
“Where has HE been all my life,” Kevin said with a waggle of his brows.
Tristan looked over to the man at the table diagonal to where they sat. He wasn't expecting much. When Kevin had that many martinis, his taste ran toward the old and strangely hairy. This man was neither. Tristan wouldn't call him classically handsome, but there was something about the square jaw and deep set dark eyes that was compelling. He was broad shouldered and the fit of his custom suit told Tristan that he was powerfully built. His posture was perfect – something odd for this casual slouchy era in time. The man looked about for the typically elusive servers for a moment or two before standing and making his way to the bar. Tristan's jaw dropped. He was really tall. Six foot six or seven if he was an inch.
“His hands and feet are really big,” Keiko observed impassively. Tristan expected an exact measure to the centimeter. “With that height, big hands...big feet...you know what that means.”
“What?” Tristan asked, genuinely confused.
“Oh, sweet mystery of life I've found you,” Kevin prompted.
“What?” Tristan gaped.
“How drunk are you?” Keiko demanded.
“He has a big dick,” Kevin declared in a voice that was four martini loud.
“That's not very lady-like,” Tristan hissed, hoping the tall stranger hadn't heard.
“You're more lady-like than he ever will be,” Keiko muttered.
Of course, the stranger looked over at them. The amused smirk revealed a deep dimple that kept him from looking smug and made him look quite charming. Something struck Tristan just then. It was a powerful spark of recognition.
“I know him,” he murmured softly. “I'm sure of it.”
Tristan wracked his brain as he looked at the man who was smiling at the bartender while his drink was poured. He looked over at Tristan when he had his drink and raised the glass to him. His expression seemed to be that of pleasant surprise.
“Oh, no you don't, Trissy,” Kevin said. “I've seen that expression before. He can't be the love of your life when you've never met him.”
Tristan was about to protest that he had met him before, but he couldn't quite place where he had seen those eyes and that smile.

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As for the Month of Fun, Stay Tuned.

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