Act 1: Chardonnay And Traces of Lipstick, Available on Amazon

Available On Amazon

             See the city of Knoxville through the eyes of a man of the night. When a male prostitute falls in love after one night of raw emotion and passion, what happens next? What road lies ahead for Sean as he ponders a life of monogamy and peace? When the one real love of his life is out of his grasp, what will he do? How will a man that only knows pleasure and seduction survive? Is love at first sight possible? Can a man trained for one way of life change over night? All of these questions and more are waiting to be answered inside. See the sights and imagine the pleasure with "Chardonnay & Traces of Lipstick." 

Quotes:

"You feel like you are on Market Square."

"I could smell The Old City."

"Raw passion and a pure joy to read."

"Cliffhanger endings done right."

Snippet...Nightmares and Sexuality

Nightmares and Illusions

"That amazing grace, thought it passed you by"
"You wake up every day and you start to cry"
"You wanna die, but you just can't quit"
Let me break it down, it's the fucked up shit"
My Shit's Fucked Up-Warren Zevon

Time passed slower than I thought humanly possible, conciousness came and went, darkness seemed to be my new home, there was no way to tell how long I lay there, body growing cold in the summer heat, the party still going on across the way, Cynthia laid out near me, eyes no longer moving, face looking worse than when I first passed out.  I faded out again, like some cheap movie with bad editing, the images in my mind, her beautiful face shattered and broken, flesh hanging away in some places, bone and pink meat pushing through in others.  The hard concrete became air, then a mattress of sorts, pain was as constant to my body as breathing, images on repeat in my mind, sleepless darkness filled with vivid imagry.  Cynthia laying there, one eye pressed foreward, blood leaking from her mouth and nose, glass peppering the ground around her.
Lights, bright, shinning, pressure on my face, labored breathing made easier, pain receeding, sleep becoming more of an option, faces voered in masks, voices talking, fade to darkness, images of my mother, alive and well, smoking a cigarette, Marlboro Ultra-Light 100, sitting on her fluffy black leather couch, laughing and smiling, light behind her, Bristol bent over me, shaking his head, Essence crying, leaning in, kissing my forehead, fade to darkness.
I awake in a pool of warm water, hints of chlorine and salt in the air, naked, a full moon above me, surrounded by fluffy white clouds looking pregnant with water, ready to spill down in a moments notice,  naked women of all shapes and sizes, swam around me, laying by the sides of the pool.  Skin tones from dark chocolate to faded caramel, nipples the size of pennies and nipples the areolas the size of silver dollars, all beautiful in their own ways.  Asses large and round, the size of a juicy rump roast, some as small as a pair of pineapples, equally beautiful, passed by me in the water, some brushed against my flesh, most just passing me by in a sensual coordinated rhythm.
Slow circles they swam around me, some taking me in their mouths, some kissing my legs and back, my body an underwater easel for their sensual arts and a blank page for their lips and tongues to paint upon.  One of them rose above the waters edge before me, water dripping from her hair and flesh, her eyes as green as gems in the sunlight, looking like a magnificent goddess.  She came to me, her dark chocolate skin looking as melted as the drops of water that dripped from the curve of her chin, the tips of her erect nipples.  She took me into her arms, pulled me close, made me feel alive.
Her jade eyes glowed through the darkness, the rest of her face, hidden in the shadows.  Clouds in the sky began to rumble as she welcomed me into her body, thunder rolled as her hips began to buck against me.  Rain drops, cold and round, pelted my flesh as she arched her back, her hands squeezing her large breasts, moans escaped my lips as she rose, lightning flaring in the sky, illuminating her misshapen face, blood leaking out of her mouth, her nose, her ears.  Cynthia stared back at me through the darkness.
The water began to cool, the warmth gone from the air, the rain started to change into ice pellets and snow flakes, everything around us becoming a blinding white, the other women vanished from sight, one by one, each with a pop, like a balloon.  The water froze around our waists, my arms locked under the ice, still grasping her gracious hips and delicious ass, the only warmth under the water, where our crotches were joined together.  Cynthia's breasts sat above the ice, as did her arms.  She tried to say something, something important through the blood, I could sense the urgency in the way her body gripped mine, only bubbles came forth, popping and splattering my face with warm red dropplets.  She sobbed and bowed her head.
Cynthia ran her fingers over her bloody tongue and wrote two words in a macrabe font of chicken scratch, seeming to glow out of the pristine white ice that had surrounded us.  I didn't want to read them, I wanted to hold her close as long as I could, so that maybe we could live, in this moment forever.  She took my head in her cool hands, chilling me to the bone, turning it slowly towards the ice.  And suddenly, everything seemed to make sense.
WAKE UP was written there in her precious blood, I shook my head and sobbed, the tears freezing to my face almost instantly, my eyes rose and met hers.  Cynthia leaned foreward and kissed my lips, her blood seeping through my lips, warmth in the cold, and then, as if touched by an angel, I woke up.

Goodbye and the Sky

Why, when your time may be nearing its end, does the sky look so different, the stars so close, but the heavens so far away, is it an illusion of hope, or a sign of despair, when a chance to truly change my life is before me, but everything I have ever known will be left behind.  It's almost been a year. And I see my mother at every street I turn onto, see her reflection in every single shop, I am not the dad I was a year ago, not even close, I feed into an illusion of joy to try and please my kids, but am I doing them more harm?  I have known nothing but stress and sorrow and guilt for the past sixteen years, I cannot begin to express my gratitude for the opportunity I have been given, but will it make a difference, will it light the path to redemption?  A year isn't that long, but what happens when the reaper coming knocking at a family members door, am I to miss it, like so many before?

Snippet

I saw fireworks in her eyes and splashes of light in the sky as I came with her, she released the fence and held me tight, her pussy massaging every last drop out of me, her juices running down our thighs.
Cynthia began to cry on my shoulder as I eased out of her and carried her back to the car, setting her down and lifting her face to mine.  I kissed her lips softly once before the first shot rang out, glass shattering, people still partying at the clubs behind the lot.  At first I thought it was a loud radio, or in some place, off in the distance, across the city or across the planet.  The second shot told me it was much closer, too close.  The back window of the Lincoln busted out, spraying Cynthia's back and my face with glass.  The shots were targeted at someone near us, or so I thought.  The third loud bang and flash of light, impact sounded closer still, sparks flew off the trunk of the car.  Cynthia gasped as I pulled her close to me and down onto the hard pavement of the parking lot.  Through the shattered glass of the car windows I could clearly hear the guitar solo of Guns N Roses "Don't Cry" playing on the radio.  A car door was opened, under the car I could see feet, racing in our direction.  Slowing when they reached the car, coming around the side in slow motion.  Shots four and five came from above us, a ski mask, gold teeth, pressure in my stomach.  The seventh and final shot

Bar and Glass...

     What if you only had one more day to see the sun rise in the morning?  What if the next sunset you saw was lost behind bars and glass?  How would you take it all in?  Would you sleep and miss it?  Or would you grasp at everything you knew to be wrong in your life?  How would you accept your fate?  On your knees, cowering in the shadows, or standing tall knowing this is not the end?  Would you be prepared for the outcome?  Or would you allow the beginning to be a final judgement of finality?

Checks and Balances...

Freedom in America is a lie, everything consists of checks and balances, credit cards and late fees.  Who cares if you have depression and you leave a job for a few weeks to try and reevaluate your life, your decisions and your reasons for living?  Who cares when your mother dies and a hole that can never be filled is suddenly in your chest?  The government doesn't, but maybe your friends and family do.  Checks and balances, people, checks and balances, and this guy is about ready to just check out.

Let The Writing Begin...

New erotic stories on the way!  Let's get it going!