Don't Read in the Closet: Volume Four (97 page)

answering.

“I am,” I say. “At least on my mother’s side. Never knew my

father. My mother was a prostitute. And a good Catholic one to boot.”

“So that’s why you gelled so easily with the working girls.”

I nod. “They all want to make a good living. My mother liked the

sex too.”

Nick raises an eyebrow. “Your mother told you that?”

“When I told her I was gay.”

“How old were you?”

I smile at the memory. “Fourteen.”

“She sounds like a great lady.”

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 586

“She was. Very open-minded too. She introduced me to one of the

new girls at her club with the intention of giving me an education, so I

told her I wasn’t interested in the girl. Or any girl. And then she told

me she wasn’t just a hooker because it was good money, but also

because she liked the sex.”

“What happened to her?”

I can tell Nick is almost afraid to ask me, so I put him out of his

misery quickly. “One of her johns killed her when I was seventeen.

There was hardly any money and I knew I was smart enough for

college so I joined the Marines, hoping they’d give me a shot at a

career.”

“I’m sorry about your mom,” Nick says softly.

“I still miss her,” I confess. “She would have supported me in

what I did, although she would have been scared shitless, both about

me being a Marine and going undercover.” I chuckle. “She probably

would have gone undercover with me. I can almost hear her say she

would have been great to flesh out my character. A real Italian

Mama.”

“My parents were hippies and didn’t want to have anything to do

with me anymore after I was recruited into the FBI,” Nick admits. “I

changed my name in college. I was sick of being bullied for being

called Stormfeather.”

I can’t help laughing. “Stormfeather,” I repeat. “Seriously?”

Nick shrugs but he’s smiling. “I wasn’t kidding when I said they

were hippies.” Then his face turns serious. “I missed you. And I was

scared you wouldn’t want to see me again.”

“You weren’t that rough with me,” I reply with a soft voice.

“Besides, you know I like it a little rough.”

Nick looks at me sideways. “Not that kind of rough.”

Now it’s my turn to shrug. “You’re right. I like the physical

roughness. I like being shoved around. I like being tied up, maybe

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 587

even in an uncomfortable position.” I look at Nick the way he looked

at me just moments ago and our gazes lock. I extract my hand from

his and let it slide across his thigh and up to his groin. “And I like

being fucked until I know sitting is going to be an issue for a while.”

Nick swallows and I see his Adam’s apple bob up and down. “But that

only works if I really trust the guy. Otherwise it’s just sex.”

“And do you trust me?” Nick asks with more apprehension than

I’d expect.

“With my life.”

Nick moves swiftly forward and kisses me roughly. I can feel the

tenderness through his actions, though, and I feel the need in him as

he pushes his groin harder against my hand. “Can we take this

inside?” he asks, our lips still touching.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

THE END

Author bio:
Zahra Owens was born in Europe, just before

Woodstock and the moon landing, and given a much less

pronounceable name by her non-English speaking parents. Being an

Aquarian meant she would never quite conform and people learned to

expect the unexpected.

She started writing fairy tales in first grade; the same year she

came into contact with her first group of English speaking friends, a

group which would eventually grow to include people from all over

the world. On the outside she was a typical only child, accustomed to

being with adults most of the time. On the inside, she sought ways to

channel her wild imagination.

During the daytime she earns a living as a computer specialist,

but it’s her former career as an intensive care nurse that tends to seep

into her fiction. Maybe this has to do with her weak spot for flawed

characters and imperfect bodies, or maybe it’s just her sadistic streak

coming through. You be the judge.

Check out Zahra’s websit
e: http://www.zahraowens.com

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 588

Twitter: @zahraowens

Faceboo
k: http://www.facebook.com/zahra.owens

And her publisher
: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com
where you
can find her 4 novels and countless short stories in genres ranging

from Contemporary to Fantasy/SciFi.

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 589

Sloan Parker – SWEPT AWAY (Established-Couples)

Genre:
contemporary

Tags:
established-couples, bears, businessmen-

Dear Author,

lawyers, over-age-40, anniversary, beach

A night at a gorgeous beach

Words:
8,309

where the moon shined the

ocean…the bear men

SWEPT AWAY

cuddled, celebrating their

anniversary.

by Sloan Parker

[PHOTO: Two burly,

“Motion denied.”

shorts-clad men with hairy

I tried not to flinch, but the judge’s decision

chests and chins and buzzed

heads kneel on a beach side

hit me hard. “Your Honor—”

by side. They lean together,

elbows linked. The man with

She gave me a stern look that said don’t

a wealth of tattoos presses

push it, and I backed off. I’ve been told I’m a

his face to his lover’s

dominating presence in the courtroom. I wasn’t

shoulder, bringing their

sure what it was about me. Maybe the tats

cheeks together. The other

across the back of my fingers didn’t convey I

man’s closed eyes and smile

reflect affection and

was a by-the-procedures kind of guy, although

content.]

that’s exactly what I was.

Please tell us their story of a

This was my first time in her courtroom,

truly best anniversary they

and I couldn’t afford to push my luck on a long

could have on a beach.

Love,

shot. Not this early in the game. The Ohio

LGBT Coalition for Equality needed this win

Sean C. Norris

and part of that was not pissing off the judge.

“Thank you, Your Honor.” I took a seat in

the solid wood chair, and I just knew my

underwear would be stuck to my ass when I

stood again. The courtroom wasn’t nearly as hot

and humid as the heat wave outside, but with

the air conditioning on the fritz it was

unbearable, to say the least. I could feel the

sweat streaming down my back, soaking a line

down the dress shirt I had on under my jacket.

My tie felt like it was trying to strangle me. I

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 590

couldn’t wait to get home and strip down to nothing.

I resisted the urge to rub my temples. Not like that would help

anyway. Nothing eased the ache that had been pounding in my head

on and off for months. Since the president of the Coalition had taken a

seat in my office (back when five inches of snow had been on the

ground) and had told me about the elderly gay couple who’d been

forced into separate rooms when they’d moved from their senior

community apartment to the on-site assisted living facility.

This was the case I’d become a lawyer to win, and the stress was

taking its toll.

The judge spoke again as she dabbed at her upper lip with a tissue.

She looked miserable. The heavy robe had to be worse than my suit

and tie. The industrial fans they’d brought into the courtroom didn’t

do much to help. They just blew the humid air and the scent of

everyone’s sweat around the room. They also left me straining to hear

the judge, which was doing nothing for my headache.

“Very well,” she said. “If there’s nothing further, Counsel, I will

see you both Wednesday morning at eight a.m.” She adjourned the

court and was off like a shot for her private chambers. Maybe she had

a secret window A/C unit and was also going to strip down to nothing

and stand in front of the window. Maybe I could hire some kid to

climb the fire escape on the building next door and take pictures to

blackmail a win in the case. I almost laughed at that, but I was too

damn hot to muster the energy for even a half-ass chuckle.

I slipped the paperwork for the filed motion into my backpack,

said goodbye to the representative from the Coalition, and left the

courtroom. I was dying to get home and into a cold shower. The

hallway outside the courtroom was even worse than inside had been.

Apparently circulated, rank, humid air was better than nothing. I

picked up the pace and headed for the elevators. I wanted to get out of

there before the press or anyone else could stop me. After the shower,

I was parking my naked ass on the couch in front of a fan, kicking

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 591

back with a cold beer and a mindless action flick or two, and I wasn’t

moving until the morning.

“Hey, Eddie. Wait up.”

Damn. Ten feet from my escape route.

I sighed and faced Tony. I’d known him for years, and it wasn’t

his fault I was tired and in a shitty-ass mood. In fact, I always felt like

I owed the guy something. Maybe that’s why we’d stayed friendly all

these years. It had been his ass I’d been chasing when I conned my

way into that private party in the normally-hetero sports bar fifteen

years earlier. I hadn’t known then it had been Tony’s private party —

with a few dozen of his closest gay friends in attendance — or that the

tough bald guy named Mike working behind the bar would rock my

world. I’d just been after a blow from the lawyer with the pretty lips.

Tony was out of breath when he reached me. “Damn heat.” He

wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “I heard about the judge’s

ruling. Sorry it didn’t go as you’d hoped.”

“Thanks. It was worth a shot.”

“Definitely.” Tony knew about risks. He took them all the time. It

was what made him one of the top civil rights attorneys in the state. A

slew of high-profile clients paid him a shit-load of money to “fight the

good fight” as he always called it. He could afford to host all the

private gay orgies he wanted, while I took on neighborhood nuisance

gigs, representing the little guy for a minor fee. Hell, if I didn’t win

this case I might not even be doing that any longer. The president of

the Ohio LGBT Coalition for Equality said they had hired me because

they wanted someone hungry for a big win. She’d come to the right

person, then. I was starving for it.

Tony slapped me on the shoulder and let his hand linger a moment

too long for a couple of colleagues standing in the hallway of the

courthouse. He always did stuff like that. He was a big guy, but at