As I've been working more diligently on my writing again, I've many questions. The first book was written online with a live audience and I must admit, I found it rather gratifying, if not exhausting and at times stressful. This time around, I'm working behind closed doors (so to speak) and sharing pieces, here and there, with a small circle of friends and fellow writers. More and more, I'm getting some requests for a glimpse into the madness--sometimes visionary smut but more often in keeping with the concept of the first book, which has been called "Seinfeld meets Sex and the City" (a description I accept with compliment). Until tonight, perhaps weakened by the wine or maybe something else, I've decided to share a small piece from the most recent chapter.
From Chapter X
After a long working weekend followed by an even longer Monday, I found myself walking into Derek’s taking one of the empty barstools. Danny was behind the bar and I had a strange feeling of relief and disappointment.
“How’s it going?” I asked.
“Not bad,” he smiled. “What can I get you?”
“I want something that tastes like summer,” I said watching the dark sky closing in outside.
“And what does summer taste like?” Derek’s voice crept over me in a deep whisper that nearly gave me dancing chills.
I turned away from the window and looked over Derek half leaning, half sitting on the barstool next to me in black jeans and usual Calvin Klein white, striped button up. He looked incredible. I closed my eyes, inhaled his bay rum scented soap still fresh on him. “Salt. Grape Crush. Coconut lip gloss.”
I opened my eyes, saw him watching me. “Danny, get her a glass of the new Pinot Blanc,” he ordered never looking away.
“And it tastes like summer?”
“We’ll see,” he stood. Moving behind me as Danny poured some wine into a glass in front of me. “Close your eyes,” he said.
“Why?” I asked.
“Just do it,” he said. I closed my eyes and felt him lean in close behind me, his hand brushing the length of my arm as he put my hand in his and then to the wine glass; his other hand resting on my leg. He moved the glass to within a breath of my lips. “What do you smell?” he whispered in my ear.
“Grapes,” I said inhaling.
“Some kind of nuttiness.”
“What else?” I felt his breath closer on my neck and my stomach tingle.
“The beach,” I said, feeling him chuckle slightly next to me as his hand left my lap and brought my other hand to the glass.
“Drink,” he said as his hands fell away from the cup and landed on my waist.
“Mmm, summer,” I said, opening my eyes and leaning back into him slightly. “Do I get a whole glass?”
“I thought you didn’t want to see me again,” he asked.
“I never said that.”
“You implied it,” he said backing up and heading around the bar. He picked up the bottle of wine and twisted the cork back in.
“And so I don’t get anymore wine?”
“Danny, I’m out,” he said walking back around the bar, wine still in hand.
“I figured,” Danny said never turning around from pouring beer for the newcomers to the bar.
Derek stopped just before my barstool. “After you,” he said motioning to the door. I turned on the stool, looked at him, saying nothing. “Before we get caught in the storm.”
“That might not be bad, either,” I said, standing. He flashed a wicked little smile and led me out with his free hand on my waist.
1 day ago