Love, Loss, Laughter & Lust

Anyta Sunday

Description

We've all loved. We've all laughed. Sadly, we've also probably all known loss in one form or another. And, yes, we at Wayward Ink are sure we've all experienced lust!In Love, Loss, Laughter & Lust, you'll experience one or more of the "L"s as we take you on a roller coaster of emotions.Whether you like to sigh over the sweet, cry for the broken-hearted, enjoy a good laugh, or get a little hot and bothered; there's something for everyone in this collection. Stories included:His Prince Wore Pink Stilettos by Julie Lynn HayesInvisible by Taylin ClavelliHearts by Anyta SundayA Closed Door by Andrew Q. GordonSleepwalking by Taylin ClavelliLife According to Buddy by Lily VeldenService with a Smile by Lily G. BluntHunter or Hunted? by Lily Velden

Sujets

• Love
• Love (disambiguation)
• Science-fiction
• Science fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Wayward Ink Publishing
• Date de parution: 20 juin 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781783014453
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

Published by
Wayward Ink Publishing
Unit 1, No. 8 Union Street
Tighes Hill NSW 2297
Australia
http://www.waywardinkpublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
His Prince Wore Pink Stilettos Copyright 2014 by Julie Lynn Hayes
Invisible Copyright 2014 by Taylin Clavelli
Hearts Copyright 2014 by Anyta Sunday
A Closed Door Copyright 2014 by Andrew Q. Gordon
Sleepwalking Copyright 2014 by Taylin Clavelli
Life According to Buddy Copyright 2014 by Lily Velden
Service with a Smile Copyright 2014 by Lily G. Blunt
Hunter or Hunted? Copyright 2014 by Lily Velden
Edited by: Julie Lynn Hayes Nicola Markus Lynda Lamb Helen Woodall Sarah Stewart (Chromoschema Editing) Cover Art by: Lily Velden in collaboration with Design Bug
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other enquiries, contact Wayward Ink Publishing at: Unit 1, No. 8 Union Street, Tighes Hill, NSW, 2297, Australia.
http://www.waywardinkpublishing.com
eBook edition available
EBook ISBN: 978-1-78301-445-3
First Edition
June 2014
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-78301-446-0
TABLE OF CONTENTS
LOVE
His Prince Wore Pink Stilettos by Julie Lynn Hayes
Invisible by Taylin Clavelli
LOSS
Hearts by Anyta Sunday
A Closed Door by Andrew Q. Gordon
Sleepwalking by Taylin Clavelli
LAUGHTER
Life According to Buddy by Lily Velden
LUST
Service with a Smile by Lily G. Blunt
Hunter or Hunted? by Lily Velden

HIS PRINCE WORE PINK STILETTOS
Julie Lynn Hayes
DAD! Dad! Look what I just found in the attic! Aren t they just so kicky?
The voice that broke into my perusal of the evening paper was, of course, the familiar voice of my daughter, Amber. As usual, excitement was contained in its contralto tones. Lord knows what she might have found up there. That wasn t a part of the house I graced with my presence on any sort of regular basis. Or ever. Nothing up there but memories. And at my time of life, that wasn t necessarily a good thing. But at the advanced age of sixteen, Amber had a fondness for those things she considered to be retro-which meant anything that dated from my youth was, by process of elimination, as ancient as I was, and therefore automatically of great interest to her. Like having one s own personal antique shop.
I glanced up idly from an announcement in the Entertainment section. The Rolling Stones were coming in concert-hadn t they retired yet? Surely it wasn t a money thing. I wondered what Amber had found now. Last time, if I remembered correctly, it was an old Coca-Cola hanging lamp. She d pounced upon it and pronounced it hers, cleaned it up and hung it in a corner of her room, just above her favorite black light poster. Not that I cared, or had any designs on it. If I had, it wouldn t have been buried in the attic. It was probably another such long-forgotten relic of my youth, no doubt...
...but what I saw made my jaw drop, and my eyes grow wide.
Contained within my daughter s excited clutches was a simple pair of shoes-to be precise, a pair of pink high heels.
But oh the memories that those shoes brought back to me....
I WAS eighteen and gay at a time when it wasn t very well accepted, as compared to the grudging acceptance we garner nowadays, but this is 2006 and that was the 70s, a different story altogether. And St. Louis wasn t Los Angeles, and it certainly wasn t San Francisco, tending to be on the conservative side, existing as it does in the Bible belt. Puberty is hard enough to go through on its own merits, but when one comes to realize that what seems natural to you is considered an abomination by others-well, you sort of learn to keep your natural inclinations to yourself. And then you hope that you re not the only one that feels that way.
I first came to understand that it was men that tripped my trigger, so to speak, and not women, when I was about thirteen. I have an older sister, Brenda, who used to read movie magazines like they were gospel. She was always raving about this that or the other handsome actor. And dragging me to the movie theater to see her current favorites, whether I was willing to go or not. I usually was-willing, I mean. After all, a free film is a free film. Even if I pretended to fuss about it. But it wasn t until we went to see A Man Called Horse that I got my first clue about my true sexual orientation.
There s a scene at the beginning of the film where Richard Harris, the rich Englishman who s the hero of the movie, is bathing in a river when the other members of his hunting party are set upon and murdered by Native Americans. This same group then happens upon Richard as well, and they chase him from the water, at which point there is a fantastic view of his bare posterior. Well, when I caught a glimpse of those firm buttocks, so unmistakably enlarged upon the screen, I found myself riveted to the sight, unable-and unwilling-to look away. On top of that, I had a definite reaction-a very physical one-that caught me very much off guard. I think I even squeaked, embarrassing as that is to relate, because I remember my sister nudging me to be quiet, while she too feasted her eyes upon the screen. At her nudge, I spilled my cup of soda into my lap, which turned out to be fortunate, for it relieved my engorged situation, and I didn t have to explain anything to anyone. Other than myself, that is. And napkins took care of the rest.
That was when I had a long hard look at myself and the world around me, borrowing Brenda s movie magazines for a comparison test. Yes, it was true, without a shadow of a doubt. It was the male of the species that turned me on. While I liked the women well enough, they did nothing for me in any romantic or sexual sense, and I had no desire to kiss any of them. Richard Harris, on the other hand... well, I was more than willing to be ravished by him. Sort of like a reverse bodice-ripper, those popular romance novels where the heroine was unwilling , back when that meant she wanted it and didn t know it. Well, I knew it, and I dreamed that someday that hunky Irishman might come and take me away.
That never happened.
Richard Harris-my first crush. I ve collected every album he ever made. And yes, I know that I m dating myself with that admission, it s CDs now. And I can sing every last song from memory. Not very well, I must admit, but with a great deal of heart. And of course I mourned his passing a few years ago.
Rob Marshall was my first crush outside of the movie screen. One that changed my life forever.
I was eighteen, in my senior year of high school, pondering on my life and what I was going to do with it. The war in Viet Nam was still being fought, although our involvement was de-escalating. But the draft was still a situation to be dealt with, and I didn t relish the idea of being a soldier for any reason, much less one I didn t fully understand. But I hadn t actually decided what I did want to do with my future, either. I was too focused on finding love... and happiness... and sex. I was still a virgin, with no prospects of changing that status any time in the near future. The only experience I had to date was that which I managed to glean from my own tender palm. It did the trick, I guess. It got me off. But it wasn t emotionally satisfying.
And then Rob came onto the scene-dropped into my life like a beautiful deus ex machina ; although, at first I had no idea that s what he was. I simply knew that this new boy, this mid-year transfer student, was gorgeous, and he made my head spin every time I saw him. And my cock jump. Which was fairly often, as he managed to end up in most of my classes. Which was a source of great secret joy, as well as great misery. For one of those classes was gym.
That was the quarter we were taking swimming. An activity that entailed a lot of dressing... and undressing... and showering.
I still remember the first swim class we had together. I hadn t expected to see him there, so I was both elated and chagrined when he showed up. Elated in the knowledge that I would see a lot more of him than I ever had. Chagrined in knowing the reverse was true, and wishing I had a more presentable body to be seen in.
He was assigned to a locker at the end of the row from mine. He made no comment when he was handed a pair of the standard issue swim trunks the school provided, but I could see his disdain in the look he gave them, and the way he held them up, almost gingerly, before he shrugged and began to undress.
I wasn t staring, I swear I wasn t. At least not in any obvious way. But anyone watching would have thought I was particularly clumsy that day. I kept dropping pieces of clothing, having to pick them up as I cast surreptitious glances toward Rob, hoping for a glimpse of something. But there were too many guys between me and him, so what glimpses I got were too short to make sense of. And when he was completely dressed... all I can say is wow.
I ll be the first to admit those dull gray shorts weren t very sexy, not on the average student, anyway, and certainly not on me. But to a hormonally challenged boy such as myself, seeing them on him, they were sheer torture, cause Rob managed to flesh them out so very nicely. To the pool we went, where the swim coach decided on partners for the day, and I was half afraid that Rob and I would be buddied up, and the other half of me wanted it in the worst possible way. Of course that didn t happen. In fact, nothing very memorable occurred in that first class, no