And Now for Something Completely Different

Yes, it’s a brief Monty Python moment …

Kimber, here, blogging today for the lovely and talented L.M. Prieto who is currently neck-deep in pages she’s preparing for a workshop. So she asked if I would drop by and chat a little this morning in her stead. So here I am.

First, a bit about me in case you’re sitting there going, *who is this person*?

I am the as-yet-unpublished member of the critique group consisting of L.M. Prieto, J.L. Langley, Ally Blue, Jet Mykles and Willa Okati. Pretty high flying company if I do say so myself. I am an avid reader and writer of manlove, currently in the tenth circle of hell known as revision with my own manuscript.

American Heritage defines revision as: The act or process of revising, as in a book or other written material.

I define revision as the process during which the book is extracted from the story.

When I begin working on a new story I make up far more than I actually write and I write far more than ends up in the final version of the work. For example, the story I’m fighting … er, working with now started out as a 32 chapter, m/f/m ménage. But during the first revision I discovered that I had, unknown to me, been telling the wrong story. That this story wasn’t a ménage but an m/m romance, so I proceeded to cut one third of the story including an entire point of view and rework the remainder with the focus on my two yummy heroes. And I’m here to tell you that wasn’t easy though I think it will be so, so worth it when I finally write those two beautiful words that I’ve been dreaming of for so long now — The End.

So if you’re still reading — looks around for faithful readers — I’m going to share with you a snippet of my WIP (work in progress). I hope you enjoy and will look for me on your virtual bookstore shelves in the very near future.

This excerpt is taken from chapter one. It is my heroes’ first meeting and their first kiss. Adam, the point of view character in this scene, is a stripper, hired to deliver a birthday strip-o-gram to a man he doesn’t know. The scene begins with his arrival.

***

If he’d thought the foyer was big, the living room was gigantic. Adam’s gaze swept the room, taking in the large fireplace, dark wood and muted colors of walls and furniture. A glittering chandelier far overhead poured golden light over everything. The room’s only occupant crouched before an entertainment center with his back to Adam. From where he stood, Adam saw pale blue material stretched across broad shoulders, sandy hair clipped short and not much more.
“Who was at the–” The man turned and looked up, his gaze finding Adam. Eyes of pale blue, the same color as his shirt, widened. His lips, full and sensuous, formed a small “o”, but no sound came out.
Adam walked to him, held out the flowers and the balloons. “Happy birthday,” he said, giving his most winning smile. “I’m here to dance for you.”
For a minute, the guy did nothing, didn’t speak, didn’t lift a hand to take either the flowers or the balloons, nothing, just stared.
Adam suppressed a sigh. What the hell? He could put the flowers on that chair, but what the fuck was he supposed to do with the balloons?
Adam was about to just let go of the goddamn things when the paralysis broke, birthdayboy stood up and the flowers and balloons were taken from him.
With some relief, he set down the boom-box and jabbed the play button. The music, a vintage Chile Peppers track, fired up and he began to dance. The hardest part, the talking, was done. Now all he had to do was get naked and dance. Simple.
Adam knew his routine like breathing. A few basic moves with some improvisations, things he changed depending on the size of the room and the responsiveness of the crowd. His eyes drifted half-closed as his body went through the motions in perfect time with the music and, piece by piece, he shed the costume.
Peering through his lashes, he checked out his audience. It was rare that he stripped for one person, weird, really, yet now that he was dancing, doing the thing he most loved, his earlier uneasiness evaporated and in its place there was just the music and the dance.
The man was a rapt audience, focusing all his attention on Adam. He stood perfectly still, holding the flowers in front of him in arms that looked both toned and muscular. The balloons he clasped loosely in one big, long-fingered hand. His face was good too. Not traditionally handsome but interesting with a strong jaw, a sculpted mouth, a nose that listed a little to the left and those pretty blue eyes. It was the eyes, Adam decided, that took the face to a whole new level of attractiveness.
Birthdayboy was hot, maybe a little older than his usual type, but hot nevertheless. And it wasn’t hard to tell that he was birthdayboy’s type all right. Though he held the flowers in front of him, his stance and the excellent cut of his dress pants didn’t entirely conceal his reaction from Adam’s practiced eye.
Could he tell Adam was checking him out? Maybe. Did he mind? Apparently not.
Adam smiled to himself . This gig might not be so bad after all.
By the time the third song started he was down to boots and a leather g-string. His body swayed to the sultry, Latin rhythm and Adam made the most of the tempo change, sexing up the dancing, moving his hips, air fucking. Feeling the guy’s eyes on him was getting him hot. His cock had begun to fill, more than obvious when he wore so little. But what the hell. Either birthdayboy was into it, or he wasn’t.
The music ended and the room went quiet. Adam paused, waiting for birthdayboy to do or say something. But again he didn’t.
Hell, Adam thought, the smile never leaving his face. He was just high enough on the dancing and adrenalin to kick caution to the curb. He walked to where the other man stood and leaned in close. The sweet scent of roses filled his head, his heart thumped against his ribs, but whether from the dancing or what he was about to do, who could say?
Adam touched his lips to the other man’s, just the lightest brush. “Happy birthday,” he said. “I’m Adam.”
Those pretty blue eyes widened then filled with awareness but birthdayboy didn’t pull away. That was good.
“Was that all right?” Adam asked.
“It was …” The birthdayboy swallowed then licked his lips. “It was more than all right.” He smiled as his gaze dropped to Adam’s mouth and lingered there.
Adam moistened his lips, deliberately mirroring the gesture. “Shall I do it again?”
Birthdayboy shook his head. “Let me.”
Adam couldn’t suppress a laugh when birthdayboy simply let go of the balloons which immediately floated up to the ceiling.
“I don’t know why people send balloons,” the man said as he turned and laid the flowers on a nearby chair.
“Me neither,” Adam said.
Mmm, very nice ass. Adam stepped forward. God, how he wanted to press against that fine ass, let the birthdayboy know exactly what was on his mind.
The man took longer than necessary settling the flowers, giving Adam ample time to appreciate the view. When he straightened and turned they were nearly chest to chest. He reached out but just before he touched Adam he blinked, “Where’s Rene?”
“Who?” Adam, eyes already half-closed, lips already parted in anticipation, blinked.
“The woman who answered the door. Where’d she go?”
“I … She left when I got here. What does it matter?”
“I guess it doesn’t matter.” But birthdayboy stared over Adam’s shoulder like he wasn’t totally convinced. Then he shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”
One hand slid around Adam’s waist while the other slid into his hair then cupped the back of his neck. The touch was tentative at first, as if he wasn’t entirely sure it would be welcome.
Adam angled his head back, presenting his lips. The thrill of knowing he was about to be kissed zinged through him.
“I’m a little sweaty,” he said, the words sounding kind of breathless even to his ears.
“So?” Birthdayboy pulled him closer, pressing their bodies together. “Sweaty looks good on you.”
Adam’s eyes drifted closed as the other man’s mouth claimed his. Soft warm lips moved slowly over Adam’s and lingered, tasting him and apparently liking the flavor. Birthdayboy was just tall enough–maybe two inches taller than him–to make the angle perfect for kissing.
Adam’s arms tightened around the other man. He rested his head on that broad shoulder and leaned in. The caress of silk against his nipple piercings sent a jolt of electricity straight to his cock. Adam moaned against the stranger’s mouth.
Something changed in the kiss then, the pressure increased as Adam’s lips were forced apart and their tongues met. Adam tasted some kind of wine and maybe chocolate with an underlying flavor of man. He moved even closer, molding himself against birthdayboy’s muscular form. Their cocks bumped and the kiss broke.
“God,” the sexy stranger said, “God, Adam, you are so fucking beautiful.”

Written by Kimberly Gardner

As early as the seventh grade, Kimberly remembers slashing her favorite rockstars and reading romance. So it’s not surprising that her two passions, romance and putting pretty boys with other pretty boys, should come together in her writing. Moliere said, “Writing is like prostitution. First you do it for love, then for a few close friends, then for money.” Kimberly is delighted to finally be doing it for money.
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