Hi, readers and friends. My short story, Me and Shea, is included in a new anthology published in print form by Alyson Books, titled Best Gay Love Stories 2009. If you click on the cover on the sidebar at right, you’ll arrive at the publisher’s website.
I hope you’ll buy a copy and give Me and Shea a read. It’s one of my favorites I wrote in 2008. It takes place on Florida’s east coast. It’s a story about a carpenter named Alex who has given up on love, and a surfer named Shea who hasn’t.
This is a hardback book, deftly edited, and I think you will enjoy it.
Hi, readers and friends. Fallen Angel has given my story, Passion Play, (Torquere Press Jan. 2009) a mixed review. Here’s the link to it: www.fallenangelreviews.com. In fairness to the reviewer, Passion Play is a dark piece, and the narrator, Reverend Luke, is not, ahem, a stable individual. Though the story has a somewhat happy ending, it’s clearly not for the squeamish, nor for those who like their erotic romance entirely upbeat. The sex gets rough and there’s an intense scene toward the end of the story where James Thibodeaux is severely disciplined by Reverend Luke. (Ouch!) Here’s where you can purchase the story: www.torquerebooks.com
Here’s an excerpt:
It’s Saturday night and a crowd swarms The Dungeon’s labyrinthine cellar. Leather-clad men appraise one another in dim corridors. Couples slip into alcoves or cubicles. Odors of sweat and butyl nitrate scent the air. Speakers offer techno music. The air is damp and cool. Close by a strap licks bare skin. I hear three loud pops, and then a voice cries out. My curiosity is stirred and I move in the direction the sounds came from.
A black light casts a purplish glow, it lends patrons an unearthly appearance, as if I’m seeing them in a dream or underwater.
I turn a corner and I come upon a young man wearing nothing but a jock strap, work boots, and a harlequin mask, one adorned with sequins and feathers. The young man’s physique is like a gymnast’s. He displays a randy bulge in the elastic pouch between his thighs. He stands at the doorway of a chamber. A cardboard sign, hand-lettered, is taped to the wall beside him and I squint to read it. The sign says: “Slave for rent: Five minutes. Twenty dollars.” An upturned ball cap rests upon the seat of a bar stool, next to the doorway. It holds a clutter of currency.
At first I think the masked fellow is offering himself, but when I draw near I see there’s another young man who stands inside the chamber with his back to the doorway. Above him a railroad lantern with a ruby lens hangs from a wire. It casts a hellish glow. The young man is naked. He is tall and broad-shouldered, with a slim waist. He wears a leather collar with rows of metal studs and the collar is chained to an eyebolt that’s screwed into the wall before him. He wears leather cuffs on his wrists and these are secured by chains to other eyebolts. His hands hang level with his ears. He wears a mask, too, but I can’t see much of it, just the feathers. They form a halo around his head. A leather strap hangs from a nail. Two switches lean against a wall. A flogging device with a wooden handle and multiple leather tails hangs from another nail. The young man’s back and shoulders, his buttocks and thighs and even his furry calves bear multiple stripes and welts, his skin is cross-hatched with angry marks. His buttocks clench, then relax, then clench again. He shifts his weight from one leg to the other and the chains securing him jingle.
Inside the chamber, lamplight reflects off cinder block walls, they are shiny with condensation and mildew. There’s a constant drip-dripping of water and the slave stands in a puddle.
The young man at the doorway looks at me and his eyes blink behind his mask. He extends an arm, palm up, pointing to the captive.
I look at the chained young man and I try to imagine his suffering, the humiliation and disgrace he must feel. I have never understood sadomasochism. I ask myself: Why does he submit? And what’s the pleasure in whipping him? Swinging my gaze to the other young man, I raise my eyebrows and shake my head. Moments later, when I’m climbing the basement stairs, leather strikes naked flesh anew. The blow sounds like a pistol shot and the prisoner cries out, his feet dancing in his puddle while his chains jingle, merry as a Christmas sleigh.
Here’s the cover of BOBB. If you like m/m erotica you’ll enjoy this collection of stories. As I said in my last post, this anthology was edited by Kit Zheng and it’s a plethora of sexy stories, nicely written and edited. It bolted to number one on Torquere’s bestseller list for short fiction anthologies and it remains there today, over a year after it was published.
My story, Fuck Me… Please, involves Forrest, an ex-Marine, and Tyler, a U. S. Navy submariner. They meet in a bar in San Francisco and Forrest discovers a new side of himself, one he never imagined he might explore. The story examines Forrest’s concept of masculinity. Can a guy who plays a bottom role in bed still be considered a real “man”?
There’s nothing deceptive about Forrest. He is the story’s narrator and he doesn’t hold back when describing his feelings about sex or anything else. He’s blunt and forthright, and he is one my favorite characters I have ever created.
Tyler, the Navy man, is an equally interesting character. Here’s what Forrest has to say about him:
* * *
I checked him out while he ordered a beer. He was my age, probably five-ten, a hundred and fifty pounds. He had what I call “pretty boy” features: a turned-up nose, dick-sucking lips, and high cheekbones. His eyelashes were long, like a girl’s, and when he blinked it was hard not to notice. His hair was dark, cut short on the sides, a bit of length on top. He turned his face toward mine, before I could swing my gaze, and our eyes met and he nodded. He said, “Hey.”
I said, “How’s it going?”
We made small talk, and for a swab he wasn’t such a bad guy. He told me his name was Tyler and I said my name was Forrest and when we shook his grip was firm. He was stationed on a nuclear submarine, he said, one presently in port. He’d been granted one week’s shore leave. He was from a small town in southern Illinois and this was his second visit to San Francisco. He’d taken a room not far from the tavern.
I asked what his hotel cost him and he said forty-eight per night, which included donuts and coffee in the morning.
He asked where I was staying and I said, “I’m screwed. I blew my last paycheck before I left Okinawa. Guess I’m on the street till I find temp work.”
He nodded and didn’t say anything. We ordered another round of beers and he turned toward me on his stool and he rested his feet on the stringers. He placed one forearm on the bar. He talked about serving on a submarine, how for months at a time he lived underwater with one hundred-ten other sailors. Everybody lived real close, he said, and they had to get along.
You know how some guys have an air of confidence about them? Tyler was like that. I mean, even though we were the same age and I was bigger than him, with a lot more muscle and broader shoulders, I felt like he was stronger and wiser than me. His voice was deep and he spoke good English, like a school teacher would, and he seemed to know a lot about important things: geography, current events, and so forth.
Copyright 2009 by Martin Delacroix
* * *
This anthology is only available in e-Book format from Torquere Press. Here’s the link:
Well, it’s about time I started posting to this blog on a regular basis. I write fiction: novels, novellas, short stories. When I write erotic fiction I use a pseudonym, Martin Delacroix. I live on Florida’s Gulf Coast, west of Tampa. Torquere Press has published two of my male/male erotica pieces. The first, titled Fuck Me… Please, was included in an anthology titled Bend Over, Big Boy, edited by Kit Zheng. It received good reviews. The second story, a stand-alone piece titled Passion Play, was released January 3, 2009. Both are available as e-books at reasonable prices. I hope you’ll read both.
I write daily. Later this year, about eight of my stories will be published both in print and electronic forms, by Torquere Press, Cleis Press, Alyson Books and STARbooks. As they are released, I’ll announce it on this blog so those who like my work can find my newest publications.
Again, thanks to all of you who have told me you like my writing.