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.
It's available
here:
Amazon Links:
As
for
the Month of Fun, Stay Tuned.
