Crawling Into Bed With
Sedonia Guillone and D. H. Starr
And a Good Book
Important
things first, are these sheets silk or cotton?
Sedonia:
Cotton. J
Doug:
Cotton
Cotton is the popular choice here, it seems. What
are you wearing?
Sedonia:
My writing uniform: Hello Kitty t-shirt and pajama pants.
Doug:
Boxer briefs and a white t-shirt
Would you believe some people show up for these things naked? True story. I swear. What
are we snacking on in bed while we read tonight?
Sedonia:
Rice cakes and prunes – I am NOT lying. I love both.
Doug:
Oh Sedonia, even if it’s the truth, did you have to admit it? Generally I snack
on frozen Milkyway Mini’s at night.
Rice cakes, prunes and frozen Milky Ways? Um...I'll have what he's having. If
I open this nightstand drawer, what will I find?
Sedonia:
Mine is a cabinet, actually and you would find: cordless phone, DSL modem and
router, lip balm, vitamins and a couple other items that will remain nameless.
Doug:
I please the 5th.
You know, all those readers are out there groaning in disappointment over you discretion? Do
you roll up in the blankets like a burrito, or kick the covers off during the
night?
Sedonia:
Burrito
Doug:
I kick off the covers, then kick my legs into the air so the material folds
under my body, then I roll to the left and right until I’m snuggled like a
newborn baby.
Lol. Cute. Can
I put my cold feet on your calves to warm them up?
Sedonia:
Do and I will scream. I need heat! I sleep with a heating pad.
Doug:
Hell YES! I sleep with a fan on me in the middle of winter.
And here I ws thinking other than the prunes you all were two peas in a pod. Awesome. So, what
are we reading?
Friends to Lovers
Excerpt: Blind Love
by Sedonia Guillone
The town
was ripe for employment, even in these times when the swelling population of
unemployed ronin made gainful work ever scarcer. He could probably even procure
several employers all at once, shopkeepers and other private citizens who would
want him to stay on their property, guarding them against this current threat.
He would have food, shelter and steady work all at once. A welcome rest from
endless roaming.
Hirata
stood a few moments, staring at the noren curtains hanging in front of the
entryway to the dice hall. He had no desire to offer protection services to a
bunch of bakuto throwing dice. He’d
even heard that Shogunate officials sometimes hired the dice players to win
back laborers’ earnings from them. What the laborer broke his back earning all
day, he ended up losing at night. Best to go back into town, get something to
eat, and then see who was hiring protection.
Shaking
his head, Hirata started to turn.
And froze.
An anma
had just rounded the corner and trudged in measured steps, using his cane to
guide him, right toward the entrance of the dice hall.
Hirata
stared at him. The anma was young. But not very young. Old enough to have
reached his twenty-seventh year.
Heartbeat
rising, Hirata took a few steps. The anma had nearly reached the front
platform. Up this close, Hirata could see his face quite clearly. His breath
hitched. His heart lurched.
It was
Sho.
Hirata was
certain of it. Seventeen years had not erased the delicately chiseled structure
of Sho’s face, his high forehead, arched brows, and aristocratically rounded
cheekbones and lips. Even though Sho’s hair was shaved to a mere shadow over
his scalp, Hirata could envision him with the long sleek hair of his childhood
and see his long lost friend.
Before
Hirata could speak, the anma halted. He tilted his head first one way then the
other, just the way he used to do when they were children and he was listening
to a sound far away. Hirata’s breath caught. He stood, frozen, as if Sho were a
deer he’d been hunting and was afraid to frighten off by the slightest
movement.
The anma
turned slowly in Hirata’s direction. “Who’s there?” he asked in a low tone.
Suspicion emanated from him.
Hirata
approached him cautiously. “Sho, is that you?” Suppressed joy made his voice
tremble. “It’s Hirata. I’ve…been searching for you.” He watched Sho’s face for
signs of recognition, for the joy of reunion to sweep over his beautiful
features.
None did.
The anma
stood, his head still cocked. His brow furrowed and then he straightened his
posture. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, “You must be mistaken. I don’t know anyone
named Hirata.” Tapping his cane in front of him, he found the step up onto the
porch of the building, passed between the hanging curtains and disappeared into
the shadows of the dice hall.
***
Hirata
nearly dropped to his knees. The emotional blow was as painful as a sword
through his middle. Panting, he stared in the direction the anma…no, Sho…had just gone. That man was Sho. Hirata knew it. Even after such
a long separation, Sho was so deeply a part of him, he could have been blind
himself and known that man was his dear childhood friend.
And yet,
for a moment, he doubted his own perceptions. Was it possible he was wrong?
That his desperation to find Sho would actually fool his mind into believing
that anma was Sho? Would Sho have become a gambler?
His need
renewed, Hirata steeled himself and strode toward the entrance of the dice
hall. Dark coolness met him as soon as he passed through the divide in the
curtain and stepped under the eaves.
The
gambling was already in progress. An assortment of samurai, laborers and
merchants knelt on one side of the hall, the bakuto running the dice game on the other. The dealer, a skinny man
wearing only a loincloth and wrist-to-ankle body tattoos, shook a bamboo cup
with the dice clattering inside. He slapped the cup down and held it, waiting
for the gamblers to make their calls.
Hirata
studied the assembled gamblers. And spotted his friend immediately.
Sho knelt
right in the center, his cane on the floor at his side, a small stack of coins
pushed forward on the tatami-covered floor in front of him. Hirata’s insides
jumped. He still couldn’t imagine Sho gambling.
The dealer
pointed to Sho. “Your bet,” he barked.
“Even,”
Sho said.
The dealer
lifted the cup. “Even.”
Excitement
trilled through Hirata as he watched Sho put out another stack of coins. A
murmur rippled through the hall, a sound that conveyed disbelief at a blind
man’s placing a winning bet.
The dealer
tossed the dice back in his cup, shook and slapped it down again.
Hirata
watched Sho, whose head was tilted in the direction of the cup. When it was his
turn to call, he said, “Odd.”
The dealer
lifted the cup. “Odd.”
Hirata’s
heart pounded. Each time the dealer called the round, Sho put out a couple more
coins and each time his turn came, he called the dice correctly until a
sizeable pile of money pieces were stacked on the floor in front of him. Hirata
suppressed a bark of laughter. Sho’s intensely sharp hearing actually enabled
him to hear how the dice landed!
The game
continued and Hirata looked forward to witnessing another feat of incredible
hearing from Sho, but instead of putting in another bet, Sho pulled his
earnings toward him, piled the coins into a small sack which he tied around his
torso, gathered his cane and left. Hirata followed him out, trailing him as far
behind as he dared. He wasn’t letting this man out of his sight until he knew
for sure this was Sho. And then, he wouldn’t let Sho out of his sight until he
understood why Sho had denied him.
Up ahead,
Sho turned a corner, heading in the direction of the town’s tiny pleasure
quarter near the theater. Hirata followed. But when he turned the corner, Sho
had disappeared.
Hirata
gasped.
“Why are
you following me?”
Hirata
froze in his tracks. He turned just as Sho emerged from behind a stack of
barrels. Sho faced him, his head tilted to the side, his sightless eyes staring
downward.
Hirata’s
gut lurched. “I—“
“What do
you want with me?”
Hirata
cleared his throat. “I’ve been searching for my friend for ten years,” he said.
He swore he could see the other man flinch slightly and then compose himself.
But the response could just as easily been in his imagination. “You…look so
much like him. I was sure you’re him.”
The anma
stood quietly for several moments. “My name is Jiro,” he said finally.
“I’m…sorry to disappoint you.” Then he turned and trudged on.
Excerpt: It Was Always You by D. H.
Starr
Doug:
Sure. This is a snippet from It Was Always You. In this scene, Caleb, who’s
been in love with his best friend Kevin for as long as he can remember, is
walking away from Kevin and his new man, Jason. Devastated he’d waited too
long, Caleb goes to get a drink and take a moment to recompose himself.
Just before
he was swallowed by the crowd, Caleb turned back to face Kevin and Jason. Their
heads were close together, both deep in conversation. When Kevin looked up and
saw Caleb looking at them, he immediately placed his arm around Jason’s waist
and pulled him closer.
Turning
away from the happy couple, Caleb forced his way through the tightly packed
room. More than one hand ran across his back or landed on his ass along with a
few cat-call compliments, but Caleb was too focused on what he’d just heard and
seen to gather any pleasure from the attention.
Elbowing
two larger guys to the side, Caleb placed his glass on the table with greater
force than he’d intended, causing the bartender to turn from the register.
“Just a minute, hon.” He then turned from Caleb giving him a glorious view of a
well-rounded ass pushing mercilessly at the fabric of worn-in jeans. The guy
was shirtless and his back muscles undulated under smooth skin. The line
running down the middle of his back was bordered by long ropes of muscle which
rounded into square shoulders. All he could see of the man’s blond hair was the
tight, stubbly buzz cut. As the man moved, the symmetry of his body drew
Caleb’s eyes in like a magnet.
When he
turned around, the bulge in the front was just as prominent as the rear view.
“What’ll it be, doll?”
Caleb had
to forcibly drag his eyes from the sizable bulge he’d been staring at.
Unfortunately his eyes had to pass over a rippling torso until they rested on
deep brown eyes. The guy’s smile revealed he was entirely aware what Caleb had
been doing. Heat flooded Caleb’s cheeks, which must have amused the bartender
since he reached across the bar and placed his hand on Caleb’s face for a
moment. “Don’t be shy, babe. You’re a hot piece too.”
“Uh, er,
thanks.” How long had it been since someone had flirted with him?
They
continued to stare at each other until Brown Eyes broke the silence. “So, what
can I get you?”
“Right.
Sorry. Could I have a Stoli-O Madras?”
“Sure
thing, sweetie.” He turned to the bar, and Caleb’s eyes fell directly back to
the ass he’d been admiring moments earlier. This guy was hot. Really hot. And
he was flirting with Caleb. Come on. He’s
a bartender. That’s how he makes his tips.
It had
been far too long since Caleb had been out in the scene, surrounded by men.
Long enough he’d forgotten that he could still turn a few heads his way. What
with the looks, the gropes, and the flirting he’d experienced in the past few
minutes, there was no telling what lay ahead if he put himself out there. Maybe
that’s exactly what he should have been doing all along. Clearly Kevin wasn’t
waiting around for him.
The
bartender returned with his drink. “Here you go. What’s your name? I can’t keep
on calling you doll, honey or sweetie.”
This
couldn’t be happening. A hot bartender wanted his name? “It’s Caleb?”
His
response was greeted with a heartfelt laugh. “Are you telling or asking?” As he
slid the drink across the bar, he encircled Caleb’s hand with his own, the
slender yet strong fingers cool against Caleb’s hot skin. “My name’s Josh.” He
pressed a slip of paper into Caleb’s hand. “And the drink’s on me.” With a
wink, Josh moved to the next person, flashing his wide smile.
Taking a
sip from his drink and one last look at Josh, Caleb turned from the bar and headed
back toward Kevin and Jason. He glanced at the slip of paper. Josh had written
his number and a request. Call me. It
had been too long since someone had shown Caleb this kind of attention. Too
long since he’d felt attractive and desired. For once, Caleb took notice of the
eyes of club-goers turning his way. Flirtatiousness and stray hands continued
to greet him as he walked, each interaction boosting his self-esteem.
With each
step, he could feel his feet landing more confidently on the ground, his shoulders
pulling back, his head lifting. The recognition he was receiving, something
he’d given little thought to over the past few years soaked into him like water
into a dry sponge. What perplexed him is how he hadn’t even known he was
craving this kind of attention. How had he allowed himself to sink to a place
where Kevin’s behaviors defined whether he was happy or not?
By the
time he reached Kevin, he’d almost forgotten about Jason. One look at the two
of them standing next to one another, leaning together, clinking their glasses
and laughing and Caleb’s confidence blew out of him like a balloon deflating.
No matter how many men found him attractive, no matter how many hands groped
him, they were strangers. There was only one man who held any real attraction
for him.
Please include any links
you'd like to share with readers.
Sedonia
My website: www.sedoniaguillone.com
Facebook (please friend me!):
http://www.facebook.com/sedonia.guillone
Doug
You can find me at www.dhstarr.com,
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/doug.starr.10,
Twitter @dhstarrontwtr, and
