Crawl in Bed with Melanie Tushmore

Crawl in Bed with Melanie Tushmore

*crawls into bed* Important things first, are these sheets silk or cotton?
Definitely cotton, or we'll slip off the bed!

Excellent point.  I don't quite get the point of silk sheets. What are you wearing?
A lot of layers, it's cold here.

Cagey, you are. What are we snacking on in bed while we read tonight?
Haldiki olives and bombay mix. With some mint chocolate for afters.

Hmmm... Olives and chocolate, interesting combination. If I open this nightstand drawer, what will I find?
The Vicar.

ROFL.  Now, you know that's going to make me want to open the drawer more! Do you roll up in the blankets like a burrito, or kick the covers off during the night?
Half and half. Depends how many cats are sharing the bed.

Cats?  Try sharing with a Great Dane. Can I put my cold feet on your calves to warm them up?
No, but you can put them on my cats!

LOL.  Will they sharpen their claws on my feet? What are we reading?
The Price of Falling by Melanie Tushmore

The Price of Falling by Melanie Tushmore

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The Price of Falling - Excerpt

Jason looked up as I held the drinks out to him. The sly smile crept back onto his lips as he took one in each hand and swung back the shot of whiskey. He placed the empty glass in my hand and held onto the beer.
“Thanks,” he smiled, eyes dancing. Then he turned around, clearly about to ignore me and leave me standing there holding an empty glass.
“Hey, hang on,” I said, reaching out to grip his arm without even thinking. “I want to talk to you.”
Jason turned back with a stern face. He looked me dead in the eye, then pointedly down at my hand on his arm. I swiftly released my grip, my hand retreating. Jason looked back up at me.
“You're crowding me, jock. Get lost.”
“No,” I said, as a sudden determination took over. “I'm not leaving until you answer my question.”
Jason frowned slightly in what seemed like genuine thought then asked, “What question?”
I leaned in closer to him, not wanting his friends nearby to hear us. I could see a couple of them looking at me, talking behind their hands. Probably wondering what I was doing here.
To Jason I repeated the question I asked a few days ago, “What do you do?”
He rolled his eyes then gave a small laugh. “That's for me to know and you to find out, jock.”
“Why won't you tell me?” I pressed, starting to feel frustrated.
Jason simply smiled again and glanced over at the pool game, making out like he wasn't interested in talking to me.
“I've got money,” I said, not sure what else to do.
This got his attention though; Jason snapped back to look at me, frowning again.
“Good for you,” he said, sounding annoyed. He swigged back some beer and started to walk away. I noticed a couple of his friends watch the departure, but they didn't leave their game. I decided I didn't care if they looked or not and followed Jason as he sauntered over to a pin ball machine.
“Jason...” I started, not sure what I should say.
He looked at me, then glanced at the pin ball machine he was standing in front of, raising his eyebrows momentarily. He seemed to be waiting for something.
“What?” I asked, oblivious.
Jason rolled his eyes. “Put a quarter in, dummy,” he said, taking another swig of beer and placing the bottle on top of the machine.
“Oh, sure.” I fumbled in my pocket for change. I wondered why yet again I got a small thrill from obeying an order from him. As I dropped a couple of quarters into its slot the machine whirred to life with flashing lights and loud bells.
“Alright!” Jason exclaimed, shrugging off his jacket and throwing it on the floor. He gripped at the sides of the machine and leaned over, concentrating on the balls and paddles.
I stood next to him and watched, not quite sure what to do. Instead of watching the game I watched his face, illuminated by the red and orange flash of the lights. Even though he seemed pretty drunk he played the game well and got over five hundred points before he lost the ball. He swore, then glanced over at me before he released the next ball.
“So what d'you want, jock?” he asked me.
“It's Mike,” I said.
Jason snorted again. “So what do you want, Mike?” He released the shutter and the ball entered the game, ringing and whooping as he snapped the paddles.
“Well, I wanted-” The machine clanged loudly as I tried to speak. “I wanted to know what you do.”
Jason, still staring down at his game, raised one shoulder in a shrug. “I dunno,” he answered, as if considering. “What d'you want? You want me to suck you off?”
My heart leapt into my throat as I tried to answer. Jason's sudden change had shocked me but the heat travelling down to my groin answered the question.
“You do that?” I managed to get out.
Jason's eyes flickered up at me. “Duh,” he said simply, going back to his game.

End of excerpt.

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To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting. ~e.e. cummings, 1955