Monday, December 31, 2012

New Short Story

Sorry I haven't been around here much. What with Christmas, my kids and me being sick, and my husband being home from work, I've been rather busy.

I have found the time to write another short story, called 'Leaving', which I've submitted to an erotica anthology being put together by Ms Leather Toronto for charity.

The call was for stories or scenes of approximately 3000 words (10 pages), so it's quite short, and a length I enjoy working with. I used the opportunity to create some backstory for two characters who I've introduced to The Cross and The Trinity (sequel to Beyond the Edge).

The story is about how Patrice (then 51) and Freddy (then 20) met in Toronto before Patrice moved to his current home in Montreal.

Here is the beginning:

Excerpt from 'Leaving':

“My name is Frederick.”
The young man murmured in my ear as I sipped my scotch, enjoying the burn in the back of my throat as much as I enjoyed the feel of the boy’s hot breath on my ear.
“And I need a place to stay tonight.”
I cleared my throat. “You can stay with me. But I’m not going to touch you. You’re far too young.”
He laughed, an uninhibited sound that warmed my heart even as it ridiculed my words. “Whatever you say, old man.”


I drove him through the cold, slushy streets to my condo in Toronto’s Distillery District. On the way I learned he was originally from Ottawa and currently enrolled in the undergraduate Sociology program at the University of Toronto. He needed a place to crash because his roommate had his girlfriend over for the night.
I’d recently sold the condo in favour of a historic home in Montreal and it was in the process of being packed up, since I would move in just one week. The fashionable nightlife of the French city seemed more to my taste these days, although the hustle and bustle of Toronto had suited me for a long time. In my younger years, the incredible diversity and the shear size of Ontario’s capital had been a powerful draw. It was the closest thing to New York City that Canada could boast.
I greeted the concierge as we entered the lobby and noticed his skeptical glance at Frederick.
“My nephew.” I said with a cool smile, although why I felt I had to explain myself to this man was a mystery.
Frederick took my hand in his while we waited for the elevator, lacing our fingers and transmitting welcome warmth to my cold skin. When the elevator doors opened, he pulled me into the small space, regarding me with a teasing smile. I noticed he had the sweetest dimple on one side and the greenest eyes I’d ever seen.
“Your nephew, huh?”
I shrugged.
He laughed again. I found myself smiling, genuinely this time.
The elevator stopped at my floor and we exited into the hall. The bright overhead light made him appear even younger than he had in the bar. I’m sure I looked older. I keyed us into #1405.
He gazed curiously at the cardboard boxes and lack of furniture as we entered the unit.
“Moving in?”
“Out, rather. In a week.” I said.
“To Montreal.”
I shrugged. “It’s where I grew up. I have family and friends there.”
“I’ve never been.”
“The bedroom,” I said, walking ahead of him through the wide, industrial space, “is not quite as deconstructed.”
He followed me to the large room at the back of the unit. The antique bed frame, dresser and armoire looked strange in the modern space. They would be the last things to go.
He removed his jacket, laying it on the wing chair in the corner. I took mine off as well and laid it on top of his. He walked over to the large window and gazed upon the lit expanse of Downtown Toronto.
“Wow! Great view.” 
Looking at the handsome young man framed in the dark window of my bedroom, I had to agree. But I said nothing.
He moved away from the window and sat on the bed, running his hands over the luxurious coverlet, gazing with excited eyes at me. Leaning back on his slim arms and kicking off his army boots, he patted the bedspread beside him.
 I hesitated.
“Come on, old man. We both know you didn’t bring me here to play checkers.” His green eyes burned with energy and mischief.

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