Friday, November 2, 2018

NanoWriMo and Blog addition

Hi friends,

Just a couple things I wanted to share.  I'm somewhat participating in NaNoWriMo, which is National Novel Writing Month.  I'm not actually attempting to write a novel in one month, but I am using this month to challenge myself to write something everyday, even if it's just a paragraph.  I'm also looking up writing prompts to help with this goal.  I won't post what I write every day, but I will share some of my work.
Also, I've added a blog archive option to the page.  It's at the bottom, left hand side.  Most of what I write and share this month won't be linked in the way I've done my other stories on the site, but if you miss a post or want to go reread something, the archive will probably be the easiest way to do so.  

Alright, yesterday's Writing Prompt that I chose was this: Write about two people seeing each other for the first time.

I tweaked that prompt a little, and below is what I came up with.


Clueless.  That was me.  Clueless, oblivious, dense…and the worst part, so self-absorbed that I didn’t recognize it until this night of my twenty-eighth birthday.  From this day forward I should be called Cruise Carter, race car driver and egocentric idiot.
My friends had thrown me a birthday party, and since I was a well-known…okay famous…race car driver, we’d completely taken over the large lake house we’d rented.  I’d guess upwards of two hundred people filled the house, its large front patio, and the even larger backyard and pool area.  I didn’t know most of them.  If they lined up, I could point out my six closest buddies—four from college and two who worked my pit crew—and then another dozen or so who I’d met through them.  The rest of the crowd were acquaintances, friends of friends, a fair number of fans, and even a couple celebrities who’d somehow become of part of my party-crew. 
The night had been a blast so far.  Alcohol, music, and scantily dressed people making use of the pool tended to make for a good time.  I’d been working the crowd, tossing back drinks with my guests, joining in the impromptu karaoke, opening the occasional gift that was thrust into my hands, and thoroughly enjoying being the star of the show.  I won’t lie.  I liked the attention.
I also like the attention of any hottie I saw, male or female.  I’d been sharing the love with whoever struck my fancy for a few years now, and it hadn’t gotten boring at all. 
I was wonder who I might get to share my bed that evening when my gaze landed on the ideal target.  Twenty-something, black hair, blue eyes, slim but with broad shoulders, and being a bit of a wallflower as he sat on a deckchair on the outskirts of the crowd enjoying the pool and its diving board.  I tended to fancy the shy ones.  Drawing them out was a game I enjoyed playing…and winning.
Maneuvering my way through the crowd, it took a good five minutes to reach my destination.  I’d purposefully come up from behind.  The timid ones tended to take flight if they saw me approaching, hiding nervously before I could even talk to them, so I’d learned to be where I wanted—within touching distance—before they realized I was there.
Now, standing behind the man I hoped to have in my bed very soon, I took a moment to admire his dark hair and mild scruff before crouching down next to him.
“Great night for a party,” I commented, and couldn’t help grinning when the guy’s head turned abruptly in surprise.  He’d clearly thought he hadn’t been noticed.
“Oh…uh…yeah, it is.”
His voice was lower than I expected it to be, and I found that incredibly sexy.  “You’re not joining in much.  How can you know how good it is if you don’t involve yourself with anyone?”
His head tilted slightly, his eyes narrowed slightly and he seemed to size me up in a way I wasn’t used to.  “I’ve involved myself more than I should have in the past,” he said in a way that felt cryptic.  “Now, I prefer to watch.”
“Watching anyone in particular?”
His cheeks pinked slightly and he looked away from me.  I reached out to gently grip his wrist, knowing what to expect, and not being disappointed when the touch quickly brought his eyes back to me. 
“Your expression says I might have been the one you were watching,” I said with confidence.  “Want to go somewhere private and have a drink with me?  We can watch each other all we want then.”
I fully expected hesitation, and then a nod or a shy yes.  Then I’d take his hand, and gradually get us to that private location.  What I didn’t expect was the hurt that came to his eyes and the question, “You don’t remember me, do you?”
I admit, that knocked me completely off my game.  I tried to reclaim my faltering smile as I stupidly said, “We’ve met?”
He sighed, his head dropping to look at the ground and I barely heard the words, “I knew I shouldn’t have come.”
He started to stand, but I gripped his wrist harder and the action stopped him.  “Hey, I’m sorry I don’t remember.  I’m not always the best with names and faces since I tend to meet a lot of people.”
“Yeah,” he said, that sadness lingering in his voice.  “I know you do.”
He did stand then, and reached into the pocket of his shorts to pull out a folded paper and hand it to me.  “Happy birthday, CJ.”
Shocked landed in my gut.  I hadn’t been “CJ” in more than ten years.  Only a handful of people from my high school years had ever called me that, mostly because I’d begged to be called anything except my given name, ‘Charlie Jensen Carter’, which I’d never liked.  In college I’d picked the name ‘Cruise’, always telling people to call me that so that very few knew my real name now.
I looked down at the paper in my grasp and nervously unfolded it.  As soon as I saw the picture inside, I knew who the dark-haired man was—Tyler Jacob.  TJ to my CJ.  My childhood friend who’d draw me pictures to make me laugh, my karate partner for the one year we’d taken it together when we were ten.  The first person I’d confessed I was bisexual to after he told me he was gay.  The one who’d given me his virginity, and I’d given him mine when we were sixteen.  He’d moved away just a few months later, forced to relocate due to his dad’s job.  I hadn’t seen him in twelve years.  No one would judge me for not recognizing him.
I shook my head, knowing I should be judged…judged and found guilty, because I knew what I’d done to him—both when we were teenagers and this night.  I’d once told him I loved him.  When he had to move I said I’d never forget him and that we’d be together again one day. 
I’d never followed up on those words, those promises.  And now, I’d proven how shallow my love had been by not even recognizing the one I’d first offered it to.
Looking up, I desperately scanned the crowd.  I had to find him.  I had to make it right, somehow…but he was gone.

Sunday, October 28, 2018

The Warrant

I promise I'm still here!  It's just been a crazy few months--two jobs, extra training, etc, etc, etc.  Anyway, here's just a little ficlet.  Enjoy!


The doorbell roused Connor from his sleep.  Groaning, he rolled to his side and then slowly sat up.  Mark remained asleep on the bed, dark circles still visible under his eyes.  Connor was sure he had matching circles, considering their crazy week and the red-eye flight that had brought them home. 
The doorbell rang again, followed by pounding knocks.  Connor frowned and hurried as much as he was able to prevent the intrusive noise from waking his partner.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” he grumbled, and then yanked open the door.  “What do you...want?”
His question fell away as he stared at the three officers at his front door.  They looked intimidatingly serious, and one of then handed him an envelope. 
“Sir, do you live here?”
“Um…yeah.  What’s going….?
“We have a warrant to search this residence.  Please step aside.”
Connor’s tired brain was having trouble keeping up, and he felt like he was caught in a bad cop drama.  “A warrant?  For what?”
One of the cops made a subtle motion for the other two to enter and start searching, while Connor looked on in confused shock.
“The warrant is for any and all ‘toys’ of a sexual nature,” the lead cop explained, his face making an expression of disgust. 
“Connor’s mouth fell open.  “What?  Why?!”
“It’s all explained in the warrant,” the cop replied.
Frantic, Connor ripped open the envelope, his mind trying to make sense of the legal jargon while his heart panicked at the thought of the cops looking in the drawer of his nightstand or the small trunk kept in the back corner of his and Mark’s closet. 
Before he could finish reading the information in the documents of the warrant, the two cops reentered the room, both now wearing gloves as they held the contents of his nightstand drawer, including the small wooden paddle that Connor definitely did not consider a ‘toy’.  He frantically looked over the policemen’s shoulders, hoping to see Mark come out to help him, but saw no sign of his partner.  How could Mark sleep through their search?!
The head officer turned a menacing look onto him.  “Sir, do these items belong to you?”
“Uh…I…ah…I mean….”
Apparently they took that answer as an affirmative, because in moments his wrists were being handcuffed and one of the cops started saying the familiar, “You have the right to remain silent” speech.
“Wait!  No!  I’ve done nothing wrong.  Mark!” he called in a panic.
Not looking impressed or merciful, the head cop looked at his partner who still held the paddle.  “Take him down to the station.  If he gives you any trouble, use that on him.”
“What?!  No!  NO!  Mark, wake up!  Help!  Help!”
“Connor.  Connor!”
With a gasp and a muffled shriek, Connor sat straight up in bed, his heart pounding.  “Mark!  Help!”
“Connor-love, I’m here!  I’m here!  You’re just dreaming.  You’re okay.”
Gulping, Connor turned desperately into Mark’s arms as his partner pulled him close.  Vestiges of his dream floating around him for a few terrifying seconds before they drifted away.  His breathing was rough for a minute more before he started to calm.
“You’re okay, baby.  You’re okay,” Mark heard murmured in his ear.  “It was just a dream.”
“A nightmare,” he corrected, his voice muffled against Mark’s shoulder. 
“I believe you.  You sounded terrified.  Want to talk about it?”
It only took a moment’s thought before Connor shook his head, at first horribly embarrassed as to the contents of his dream—cops coming with a search warrant for dildos, plugs, and a paddle.  Then, exhaustion and residual emotion took his mind another direction and he began to chuckle, then laugh, and then completely lose himself to hysterics.  His eyes watered and he had to keep wiping at them until his laughter faded away.  Mark looked at him with a mix of worry and amusement.
“What in the world did you dream about, love?”
Connor shook his head, unable to find the words to explain the weird dream.  “I’ll tell you when I can think more clearly.  I think the red-eye flight and plane food has played havoc with my brain.  Let’s just go back to sleep.”
Still looking concerned, Mark nodded and they snuggled together under the blankets.  Connor closed his eyes, sighed, and then spoke quietly.  “Tomorrow, maybe we can find a way to lock the nightstand drawers.”
“Um, sure, whatever you want, baby.”
Connor knew Mark was saying that just to placate him, but it helped, and he fell back asleep with thoughts of his husband instead of images of cops at the door holding paddles and sex toys.