Hello all, long time no post! I have a new story available for sale at dreamspinnerpress.com. Here’s the summary and excerpt:
Jamie Kurtz loves his job as a firefighter. It’s everything he’d imagined as a kid, watching reruns of Emergency. But his pulse stopped pounding at the sound of a fire alarm years ago and now only picks up when he’s in a stranger’s arms. Addicted to the rush, he frequents clubs, looking for something—someone—to turn him on. But the next time his heart races, it’s in anger The new man in the firehouse, Chuck Positano, is the bully who made Jamie’s life miserable in high school. But as the saying goes: Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.
The first night he was off duty Jamie took the PATH train to Hoboken. Sitting in the back of the cab, the lights of the city flashing across his face as they passed, he picked a speck of lint off his snug black pants and tried to clear his mind.
He loved his job. It was everything he’d imagined as a kid, watching reruns of Emergency and dreaming of being Johnny Gage. Sometimes, though…sometimes, he was glad to leave it, like he could only breathe properly when he took off the heavy canvas coat. Sometimes he remembered that Johnny Gage wasn’t real, just an actor playing a role, and he wondered whether the same couldn’t be said of Jamie Kurtz. Why else did he only feel real on these hot nights in Jersey? Why did his heart, which had years ago ceased to pound at the sound of the fire alarm, still pick up its pace when the club of the week came into sight?
Enough, he told himself sternly as the cab pulled up to the curb, no more thinking about work. He paid the driver and jumped out. Even from the sidewalk he could hear the music, comfortingly bass-heavy, the thumpa-thumpa invading his chest cavity and synching up with the beat of his heart. His lips curled in a smile as he paid his cover charge and held out his hand to be stamped.
The club was packed, the bar three-deep with men and the dance floor a crowded mass of moving bodies. Jamie drew a breath in through his nose and held it for a moment, savoring the musk that only a room full of sweating men could generate. By the time he pushed his way through and got a bartender’s attention, he’d scanned and rejected every face at the bar. He took his drink, pushed his way onto the dance floor, and let the music carry him away. Hands brushed him, inviting, questioning. Bodies pressed close, flank on flank. Eyes sought his own, hoping to make a connection.
He danced for hours, his partners a blur of faces changing as frequently as the colored strobes that swept the room. At some point he looked up at a chiseled torso, gleaming ebony muscles rippling in time with the music. Jamie ran his hands across that broad chest, squeezing the firm tits lightly before stroking his fingers down the abs. He raised his head, saw brown eyes set in a face of carved beauty, full lips and neat, ruthlessly groomed facial hair. Jamie licked his lips and tilted his head and the other man smiled, his teeth perfect and startlingly white. He turned and cut through the crowd of dancers. Jamie followed in his wake.
Aren’t firemen hot? This story can be purchased for $2.99 at the Dreamspinner site. As always, I’d love to hear your comments!
Read Full Post »
