Some years ago, before I found myself a stable, loving relationship, a well-meaning friend introduced me to a guy she thought would be perfect for me. What we had in common—apart from both of us being gay men—I really couldn’t see.
He wasn’t my type. He was your garden-variety, anti-social oddball. He brought a bottle of vinegar to dinner, thinking it was wine—from the 99 Cent Store. That was weird. He was an ageing hippie, which was cool except his clothes looked kinda dirty. He was bald on top, the rest of his hair gathered into a scraggly ponytail. He was fun and funny however, with an astonishing knowledge of Hawaiian music (my passion).
All of a sudden, he didn’t seem so odd to me anymore. We chatted through pre-dinner drinks and then the bizarre behavior started. He tackled his dinner as if he was picking his way through a minefield. He had a physical reaction when he saw the rice accompanying the meal.
“It’s white,” he said, scrunching up his face like a little kid. It was embarrassing.
My friend who introduced me and Oddball, said, “Sorry, I forgot.” She took the plate to the kitchen and removed the rice. When she returned, he asked if anything had poppy seeds in it.
She said, “No. That I didn’t forget.”
He confessed to the rest of us that he was on probation.
“What for?” I asked.
He went into a big long story about how somebody had stolen money at his job and fingered him for the crime. He said he was a ‘Nam vet and had been in Special Forces and blah blah blah. I scanned the faces at the table and saw the women all agog. They were actually buying this crap!
Oddball had taken a plea deal because he couldn’t handle a trial and had no money for an attorney. He had to pee weekly for his probation officer and poppy seeds come up as opiates in the blood stream. He was petrified about winding up in prison, especially since he was innocent. He seemed so traumatized about the search warrant executed on his home that I felt bad for the guy.
Not bad enough that I would pity-date him, however.
I was thankful when dinner was over and returned to my peaceful existence. He latched onto me though and a week later, invited me to a Hawaiian slack key concert. Damn! I didn’t even know my three favorite guitarists were in town. It was way down in Irvine and Oddball insisted on driving. He even took me to dinner at The Loft, an expensive Hawaiian restaurant I’d always wanted to try.
The evening was great until the meal, when the ‘white food’ obsession re-emerged. He made a big deal of having to check in with his probation officer by a certain time. He grew frantic when he couldn’t get cell phone reception and I’d stupidly left mine at home. By the time the restaurant owner graciously let him use the house phone, the whole restaurant knew about his situation.
He told me he had another 18 months of this. I really didn’t think I could cope with the drama. I could see every meal being an ordeal. I realized this was traumatic for him, but dealing with this and hearing his endless tales of grim things our government allegedly asked him to do boggled my mind.
Although I adored his taste in music, the weight of what he was dealing with was heavy.
I had a hard time getting rid of him over the coming weeks. He showed up at my door and followed me. I was really worried. What if his alleged spy-stealth-killer past was true? I consulted a friend of mine who is a technical adviser on such matters for a TV series. Our conversation raised more questions. I know had to consider a new problem: the theft for which he was on probation.
Is he really innocent? For a guy with a simple office job he spends a lot of money.
I pulled away from Oddball who kept calling me, trying to hook up. He sent me lavish gifts in the mail. He bought me vintage Hawaiian albums, 50s memorabilia, tiki stuff, because he’d seen my apartment and thought I would like them. I did. But I was starting to panic….oh my God. What if he is guilty after all?
Being a writer and a very inquisitive guy, I wanted to find out the truth. My search led to my writing the book Wanted, which was released at eXtasy Books January 1. This was a book I worked hard on, in terms of research.
Anyone who reads my books will tell you my stories are very detailed. I pride myself on authenticity, as well as my steamy love scenes.
I met a a wonderful man through my research who is a forensic accountant. I’d never heard of this occupation. I asked him if I could interview him. He’d worked some major homicide cases and said he would love it. He described himself as a frustrated writer.
In fact, I interviewed him twice because he was so fascinating. I created the character of Mingo McCloud in the short story Hula for the Emerald Envisages anthology. I adored Mingo and loved the whole concept of a character who is a forensic accountant. Now I can’t leave him alone. In the novel Wanted, Mingo is recovering from a bad break up with his lover Kaolin and moves to Hawaii’s North Shore hoping to start again.
Being the only forensic accountant on the island of Oahu with extensive criminal case history, he’s very much in demand. And then he meets Jason, a hot guy who is grappling with his sexuality and some scary secrets.
What if you meet the man of your dreams and he turns out to be a wanted man?
This was my angle with Wanted and now, with this book being a big seller for me, I am working on the sequel, Needed, coming to eXtasy books in April.
Have you ever dated a bad guy, or a guy you thought was bad?
Post a comment for the chance to win a pdf copy of the short story Hula and an ebook of Wanted.
Honolulu forensic accountant Mingo McCloud’s lover has cheated on him again. To escape his heartbreak, a severely depressed Mingo moves to the North Shore of Oahu. Eager to start a new life and to forget, Mingo soon learns that Turtle Bay might be the home of big surf, but it also has even bigger secrets. He catches the eye of a mysterious stranger, Jason, a sexy lone wolf with a troubled, sketchy past. The two become embroiled in a tempestuous love affair that turns dangerous when Mingo discovers Jason is spying on him.
Involved in his first big murder case, Mingo needs all his emotional resources to help find a missing young housewife…yet his private life just turned deadly. He has no idea why Jason would be tracking his every move—or even who hired him. Determined to find the truth, he hires big black, bad French former mercenary, Francois, to help him…and discovers shocking truths…Mingo McCloud has gone from wanting to wanted.
I smelled lemon furniture polish and…some sort of tropical smell…I glanced around. He’d slathered on underarm deodorant before he walked out for his morning coffee. Moving behind me to close the door, I caught his appraising glance and knew several things about him. He was not organically gay. He, too, was horny, and had figured out it was easier to get laid by a gay guy. Ah geez, why did I always attract the straight guys?
He caught my gaze and looked away quickly. I knew so much in that small moment. When I saw the unbearable neatness of his small room with no view of the ocean I felt his despair, and knew I should leave. I’d just been hit by Kaolin, the human Mack truck. I still had tire marks running down my heart. What the hell was I doing here?
There was a perfectly made bed tucked in the corner. A single bed for a single man. There was a TV on a dining chair, small kitchenette, a dining table with the remaining chair and a big wing chair off to the side.
We stared at each other for a moment. I had to make the first move. I stepped toward him and I felt his hesitation until my mouth went to his. Though he was resistant at first to the kiss, he accepted my tongue. He let me kiss him and soon he was responding with eagerness. We were both surprised. I knew how hot this was, how good this felt and how good we both tasted.
He held my face in his hands. They were strong hands, fingertips rough, and I ached to feel them on my cock and balls. I took my mouth away from his and his tongue was still protruding when I moved away from his face. He was glassy eyed as I lifted the T-shirt to find what I knew would be there. Perfectly chiseled abs, a sprinkling of hair on the upper torso. My hands moved over him as he took the T-shirt himself and whipped it over his head. His nipples stared at me invitingly and I gave them passing attention with my tongue. I was too eager for the main course.
“Take your boots off,” I instructed and he tried kicking them off as I unbuttoned the top of his jeans. I saw the Calvin Klein waistband of his underpants and then I lost total control. I slid down the zipper and cupped his perfect, tight ass in my hands as I held him to me. I found his mouth waiting for me. I wanted to spoil him, make him want more. I wanted him to crave men, to crave me, and I shucked down his jeans and underpants, savoring that raging erection just before I released that surprisingly thick, long cock. He was uncut.
I fell in love on the spot. Kneeling before him, I took his cock straight into my mouth and sucked as I frantically undid the ten million laces on those boots. He sighed with abandon as he kicked off the boots and shucked off his pants. His mouth fell into a happy O, and I glanced up to see that he was watching me enjoy my unexpected morning feast. I sucked him the way Kaolin loved me to suck him. I swallowed him, pulled back and all the way off him, plunging back down again. His cock bounced, eager to be back in my mouth each time I came off him. He was making little sounds…he did not want to beg me for it. He was too proud for that. He just made little primal noises, an instinct in all men for that safe, sexual burial in a hot, warm mouth.
Sucking his cock was as much a pleasure for me as it was for him. I took my mouth off him and told him to get on the table.
“Get up there,” I barked and he obeyed me. He got up on the table, his cock still hard and I grabbed his feet, still encased in his socks. “Lie back.”
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