Staying Power Book 14 in the Action! Series
Book 14 in the Action! Series
G.A.HAUSER
Smashwords Edition
Copyright © G.A. Hauser, 2013
STAYING POWER
Copyright © G.A. Hauser, 2013
Cover design by Jeff Chandler
Cover photographer: Dennis Dean
Edited by Sharon Alexander
ISBN Trade paperback: 978-1493647477
© The G.A. Hauser Collection LLC
This is a work of fiction and any resemblance
to persons, living or dead, or business
establishments, events or locales is coincidental.
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this may be used
or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission,
except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical
articles and reviews.
WARNING
This book contains material that maybe offensive to some:
graphic language, homosexual relations, adult situations. Please
store your books carefully where they cannot be accessed by
underage readers.
First The G.A. Hauser Collection LLC publication:
November 2013
[
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Dennis Dean Images
Dennis Dean continues to make his mark as an
internationally known photographer. He is credited for his creative
abilities, strong composition, and dramatic lighting. Dennis's work
has earned numerous awards and has been featured in several gay
magazines and in a plethora of art publications, including G. A.
Hauser erotic novels, as well as countless exhibitions, including
two in London at the Adonis Art Gallery.
Also, look for his work of eye-catching
images with the apparel brand, Ruff Riders.
Dennis is proud to be partnering with Royal
Palms Resort & Spa in Fort Lauderdale, Florida showcasing his
work in all the rooms, bar and grill, the spa and fitness
center.
See more of his work at
www.dennisdean.com
.
Steven Jay Miller was still wearing his
business suit from his day of working at Parsons and Company, LA's
biggest advertising firm.
The room was stuffy, windowless. He was given
a bottle of water but set it on the low coffee table that was in
front of the couch he and his husband, Mark Antonious Richfield,
were sitting on.
The closest Steve had been to a therapy
session was group debriefings after major incidents with the LAPD.
He had never sought therapy, although being brought up by a racist,
homophobic prick of a father and a 'church-lady' mother, should
have sent him to a rubber room.
Mark, also in his business attire, since they
worked together at the advertising firm where he and Mark had met,
actually, was fidgeting as if he were the one who was out of
place.
Mark had been in therapy for years…years. Yet
Steve saw no improvement.
Mark's psychiatrist, Dr Van Eldon, sat on a
beige floral-printed fabric wing-backed chair, held a yellow note
pad on his crossed knee, and a pen in his hand. Steve thought he
was a caricature of Freud with his bald head, white beard and round
wire glasses. It was as if it was some kind of get-up to convince
Steve he was indeed a man who could help Mark climb out of the
depths of depression and self-loathing.
Steve glanced at his gorgeous Top Model
spouse. Mark Antonious Richfield. Quite simply named the most
gorgeous man in the world by every magazine on the planet.
Mark…Mark who was the heir to Richfield International, modeled for
Dangereux cologne, and a top car manufacturer, and still, here the
stunning man sat, teetering on the verge of a nervous breakdown,
starving himself to look trim for his photo sessions, and getting
injected with youth enhancing junk to beat back father time.
Mark cleared his throat.
Finally after a ridiculous amount of silence,
which Steve calculated by the three hundred dollar hourly rate had
cost at least fifty bucks, the doctor asked, "I know you have
wanted Steven to sit in with you on one of our sessions, Mark. Was
there something in particular you wanted to address?"
Mark shifted his posture on the sofa,
crossing and uncrossing his legs.
The doctor asked, "Whose idea was having
Steven come?"
"Mine," Steve said, wishing he never thought
of it. But Adam Lewis, their good friend, had suggested it. Steve
figured Adam was as confused as he was as to why Mark showed no
sign of improvement.
But…how was Steve supposed to accuse this man
of incompetence without insulting his very sensitive lover?
Dr Van Eldon focused his gaze on Steve. "What
are your concerns, Steven?"
He felt Mark's stare on his profile. "He…"
Steve glanced at Mark and could feel a bad vibe coming from him,
one of suspicion. "He continues to starve himself before modeling
shoots. I just wondered if he's shared that with you."
"He has." The doctor nodded.
Mark shifted again and Steve noticed him sink
in the cushions, leaning his chin in his palm as his elbow rested
on the overstuffed arm.
"But…he's still doing it. Did he tell you he
passed out after the shoot for the car company?" Steve felt his
hands go clammy wondering what the fallout would be from Mark. "He
passed out in the parking lot, ten at night, in a lousy section of
downtown LA."
The doctor's stern gaze turned to Mark.
Steve had the feeling Mark had not mentioned
it.
In response Mark said, "It was highly
unusually, I assure you."
"No," Steve cut in. "It's the norm."
He got a glare from Mark.
Steve felt anxious. This was supposed to help
them, not build a wedge between them.
"Mark," Dr Van Eldon asked, "Is this true?
You're starving yourself to such an extent that you are passing
out?"
Mark made a noise in his throat but didn't
answer.
Steve turned on the sofa to face Mark. "Why
aren't you telling him? So, he knows you starve but he's clueless
you do it to such an extreme you faint?"
"Steven!" Mark narrowed his green eyes at
him, running his fingers through his long brown hair, in what Steve
knew was a 'tell'. A tell Mark did when he was upset or
anxious.
"Mark?" The doctor did not look pleased.
After another glare at him, Mark said,
"Perhaps once."
"Once?"
"Steven," the doctor said, "Allow Mark to
speak."
Steve picked up the water bottle and
unscrewed the cap, drinking it. He looked around the room, its
staunch conservative appearance; a bookshelf loaded with reference
volumes, a desk and a chair. The entire room was neat as a pin with
paintings of country homes with waterwheels and a large rubber tree
plant wedge into the corner. A bust of Socrates was propped up on a
marble pedestal and the whole room felt to Steve as if it were a
Hollywood set design. And judging by the progress this man was
making with Mark? Perhaps he was just an actor playing a part.
Steve's belief in therapy was edged down
another notch.
"I…I do on occasion feel lightheaded." Mark
sounded sheepish. "I don't starve, contrary to everyone's believe.
I eat salad, drink juice."
Steve made a noise of disbelief.
"Steven?" Dr Van Eldon asked.
"He nibbles a corner of a piece of toast,
drinks half a cup of coffee, and thinks that's enough to
function."
"Only before a shoot!" Mark shouted. "He acts
as if I bloody eat that way all the time! And when did this therapy
session become about my eating habits? Steven, I thought you had
something constructive to say."
"Mark," the doctor asked in a very calm
voice, "What would you like to get out of Steven's visit here?"
"I don't bloody know. It was his idea." Mark
crossed his arms.
Steve sat up, trying not to slouch in the
sofa. He set the water down again and tugged at his cuffs from
under his suit jacket. "I just want to know what you two discuss. I
want to know it's worth the fortune we are paying."
"Sod off." Mark crossed his legs so he was
nearly giving his back to Steve.
Another moment of silence passed and Dr Van
Eldon said, "Mark and I have made progress on many occasions. We've
discussed his son, how to help Alex grow and become an independent
young man, and we've also dealt with Mark's abuse from his
father."
"And mother." Steve made eye contact with the
doctor. "Did he mention she cut him out of the will? That she gave
him the estate in Paradise and then when it sold, he never saw a
penny? That Mark found the fucking buyer?"
Steve could see that maybe the doctor had not
been brought up to date.
"Mark?" the doctor asked.
"I don't know if I'm cut out." Mark fussed
with his hair, not making eye contact with anyone, appearing to
look at the wall.
"Did you also tell him that when I asked you
to have sex exclusively with me, without Adam and Jack, that you
went into a tailspin? And that you and Jack can't seem to place me
and Adam first, even though we're your husbands?"
The look of absolute rage from Mark made the
hairs rise on Steve's neck.
"You!" Mark pointed at Steve. "You and Adam
got drunk on tequila and were swapping spit by the time Jackie and
I walked down the stairs. Don't you even pretend you don't want
those men as much as I do." Mark looked at the doctor. "He asked me
to give Jackie up. I agreed. I broke Jack's heart!" Mark's voice
cracked. "Then no more than two seconds later, Jack and I come down
the stairs to see him and Adam kissing!"
"What the fuck were we going to do? Huh? You
think Adam and I don't know you and Jack are madly in love?"