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Friday, February 24, 2012

Evrain stands out of the group!

A Valentine for Evrain, is one of my favorite pieces. I wrote it in one sitting. He was such a determined and damaged character, I found his voice irresistible, dark and even cruel. I wasn’t sure it would be accepted to the Never Say Never Anthology but it was. The theme was “never say never to love” and so I found Evrain, or Evrain found me and he told his story. Love is not for him, but, oddly, he runs a small town chocolate shop where he not only seduces the locals but heals the broken hearted with his wares. He may not believe in love but his chocolate knows better.

I have read Evrain aloud at several live events and even read from it in a live web interview and have always found the audience receptive. There is a little S&M mixed into the sexuality of the story but it’s what was being told to me, I had to tell his story. Evrain is part of a collection about love and the power of hardened hearts finding love; he may be the hardest heart of all but…as we all do…he melts eventually and at the hands of a hot Latin lover. Boy, have I been, and continue to be there. Although not my most popular work, A Valentine for Evrain has a special place in my heart. It is honest, harsh and a little brutal, and aren’t those the things that make love complex, yummy and keeps us wanting more?

Blurb: Evrain runs a chocolate store in a small town and is not above using the storefront for hot encounters with local guys. But love is definitely not in the cards, at least until he meets Ambrosio. The Sexy Latino soon teaches Evrain a lesson in love that neither man will soon forget.

A Valentine for Evrain (Part of the Never Say Never Anthology)

also available in PRINT and Soon on AUDIO

There was this assistant principal: sweet-lipped, early thirties, whose unconscious habit of wearing tight pants caught not only the interest of the town’s conservative population but mine as well, both for entirely different reasons. But I knew I'd bend him and, boy did I. He came in searching for something one night after school. He looked wild-eyed, caged; I know what a man wants when he looks that way. He said he was originally from the city, his eyes shifting hungrily, as if consuming the exotic spread of the store. I watched him inhale the sweet caramel smell of chocolate, cinnamon, lavender, and me. He did not know he wanted it, didn't know what it was that made his hands grip the counter, but I knew.

"I'm heading over to see this girl." His eyes scanned the counter top, the various chocolates underneath teasing him. "I thought she'd like something, thought it'd be gentlemanly."

I remember nodding, thinking, yeah, yeah I have heard it before, drop and give me 20. Instead I just smiled, cut two slices of dark-chocolate ginger bark and handed one to him. Ginger makes one think hard about heat, lust, fucking. I ate my piece and watched for his reaction. We both started to sweat. I wiped the back of my neck, and he grabbed a napkin from a stack on the counter and swiped it across his forehead. There is nothing hotter than watching a man submit to the unknown. I have heard that the thrill of skydiving is not so much in the jump, but in the fall.

"You ever skydive?" I asked him, as he began pacing my tiny sugar-infused domain. He didn't answer just kept sucking on the bark, his teeth gnawing at the confection as if it held the answer to the question I had just asked; the tight khakis revealed his erection. I could see the confusion in his face. He didn't know why he was hard. He looked down, betrayed by his body’s reaction. He knew I was staring and turned away; this only gave me a better view of what I wanted most. His ass was round, full, sensual for a man's body. I knew he’d never had anyone do anything to it. I spit a piece of ginger into the trash, reached down, and felt my own stiffening monster. I knew I'd fuck him the minute I laid eyes on him months before. He could pretend, pace, sweat—it was all gonna come down to one fateful moment: one push over the edge, falling, spiraling downward into a delicious oblivion. He would move back to the city, of course. He would learn he could not get what he really wanted from this place. I remember laughing at that moment, and his angry reaction.

"You think it's funny?" He spat, the ginger was working. "You think I like working in this shit hole. Small towns, small-minded backwards…"

"Hey there, this is my home you're talking about," I arched an eyebrow and reached for another piece of the bittersweet, dark-chocolate, ginger bark, "small minds, and all."

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