Shallow drafts & inspiration

"This is what you do for a living uh? shallow..."
"what?"
"I said SHALLOW"
"right, and I have answered WHAT IS SHALLOW?"
"You think you are a writer, but your stories seem a collage of horny fan girls thoughts...pathetic."
I couldn' reply much to his comment. He was right.
Since I had been able to hold a pen properly I didn't want to do anything else than writing, and it went so on for years.
When i turned nineteen, I entered university (just because my mother wasn't giving up the "family business" story). In the day I had to study and at night I was working on my novel, I was writing that one tale I wanted to link my name to.
I graduated and finished my book at the same time, after that I moved away from my family house before my mother could finish suffocating me and I begun introducing my books to some editors.
Thanks to some acquaintances from school I found an evening  job in a pub and a day job as a newspaper boy and with the money I could pay the rent of the one room I had moved to.
After a few weeks I got an e-mail:
Dear Mr. Bitter,
we have read your manuscript and we really are interested in your style. Your tale has something different from the ones we have received until now, and we are interested in discussing with you about a possible cooperation.
please, get in contact with our assistant to fix an appointment.
Sincerely,
M. Saini
I couldn't believe it! I immediately called for an appointment and the day after I was sitting in the waiting room of Mr. Saini.
The heavy wooden door went open and a gray-haired man came out.
"Mr. Bitter, I suppose...I am Mr. Saini, please, come in..." he said showing me the room with his large hand.
The office was sober, on the wall a big nude photograph portraying a muscular model in a classical pose.
Mr. Saini sat on his chair and I took place in front of him.
"Do you want something to drink? I'll let it bring for you..." he asked
"No, thanks..." I answered. I didn't know why but i didn't like the man, I had the impression he was being polite to find an easy way to fuck me around.
"I want to go immediately to the point with you,  Mr. Bitter or can I call you Boris?" I saw it coming
"We normally don't publish anything without a contribution of the author. We really are interested in your story, but until you don't proof yourself able to make us earn money, we are not ready to invest on you. Your style is fine, but you still have to refine your skills...probably you still did not see enough of the world to appeal the reader and break out in originality."
I was listening very carefully trying to read among the lines.
"Of course, there are compromises. You could sign a contract in which we will own your work and that way you will allow us to make some little modifications to your story...you know Boris, we know the market, we are in this business since years! The big audience doesn't like to read about reality, they prefer to read about action, sex and incredible events; your characters are too normal. They are ugly and sad like we all are. We don't want to read about something we are obliged to experience every day...you understand?"
"I understand perfectly..." I replied without loosing my temper "you want me and my book to become one of your bitches."
"Boris, don't take it personally. Personally I really like your work, and I like you too, but I am not the only one deciding..."
"No problem" I said standing up "I think my time here is out. thanks for inviting me Mr. Saini".
I turned away but he stopped me at the door "Think about it" he said, his face much too near to my face "I'd really like to work with you"
The scent of his expensive perfume filled my nostrils, making me dizzy.
I opened the door and I ran out without looking back.
When I got back home I threw myself on the bed and I began crying like a kid. I felt so humiliated, I thought that kind of stuff was real only in cheap fiction but he had really tried to buy me, maybe if I would have offered him my ass he wouldn't even have mentioned changing my novel.
I ran to the toilet and I vomited, my hands pushed in my stomach, my eyes full of tears. Then I washed my face, I returned on my bed and I opened my laptop.
A new document, virgin white, was waiting for me to be filled in.
A few second of concentrations then the words began to flow out of my fingers like cum and I wrote the most obscene story I had ever heard about. I filled it with shallow details, cheap actions and a lot of sex, after that I have opened my blog and I have pasted the tale in a new post.
"Now that..." I said to myself "This is porn!" I had to laugh about it.
I actually liked it and while revising it I almost got an erection. It was not shining in originality, but it was pleasant to read.
After publishing the short on the net, I have been contacted from a few erotic magazines and I now write some stories for them, from time to time. I am an employee in the rest of my time (not in the family business!), and I still work in that pub in the evening.
I still have one little dream: seeing my novel published. But dreams sometimes are made to be left in the drawer and give your life a sense, day after day.
"Hey Bo, I hope you don't hate me now, you know that I am the kind of guy who sais what he thinks...I can't help.."
Joy was looking at me with a worried shadow on his face.
"Never mind..." I told him "...I know you are right"
He was lying on the couch, one of his legs hanging out of it, he kept his hands under his head.
"Now you think I am an old perv, don't you?"
"Bah, I don't think it, I know it!" he replied smirking.
"You little jerk!" I told him sitting myself on the ground next to him.
"Say, Joy...why are you always so cold to me? I am here melting for you and you cannot relax..."
"I don't know...I am just shy, maybe...come on! You piss me off with this kind of questions".
I turned and I kissed him. He let himself be kissed but didn't respond to my action.
"Anything you feel like doing?" he nodded and he sat on the sofa pulling me up to sit next to him.
While he was kissing me I had this idea that writing is like cooking, you can prepare fabulous dishes and maybe some people will like them, but there will always be a certain amount of people who don't.  Of course, if I would write like I cook, it would seriously be better for me to stop, but I am sure I can be a good writer, and I am not going to stop writing for anything or anybody.
Writing doesn't mean publishing, and since I am destined to die young I have probably lost my chance to do it already. It's not how many books you have published the parameter making of yourself a novelist or not, but the stories you have to tell, the emotions you have to convey.
I still have some stories left in my minstrel's pouch and some more could come.
languid hours with my shy lover surely help my creativity anyway, so if you can excuse me...I have to go getting inspired!

Rough

With you it has to be rough.
You don’t like sentimentalism and you don’t like beauty. Sex has to hurt to feel real, the same is true for love.
I am your slave but there should be limits. I don’t like you to laugh at me. I don’t like you to sell my body and my soul, to other ghosts. I don’t like you to have sex with him while I am watching.
Marcus is a nice guy, but he thinks he owns you, and you let him think that, just because you like the way he looks down at me. He’s noting more than a bottom to you, just like me.
But I have something he’s never going to have. I’ve got your tears.
Can you still remember the night we met? You had just been dumped from the one and only man who ever had your respect. You were down at the “Paradise” and Carl was filling one glass after the other for you. You were as smashed as you could be. When I entered the pub I tried to ignore you but you came next to me and you told me your first cheesy line “I think you have a very nice ass can I check?”
“Asshole” that was the only thing I could reply and when you tried to kiss me I gave you a punch on your face, hurting myself more than I hurt you. I ran out of the pub, you came after me.
“What do you want? get the hell away from me…” you grabbed my hands and pushed me to the wall. Your eyes where wet. For a second I thought you looked cute. But than you kissed me and the smell of beer made me sick.
“I am pathetic. I know. But I think you could heal my heart. I need your body tonight”
what the hell…I thought.
I stopped fighting. You kissed me and I kissed you back. You immediately showed me who was going to rule.
We ended up in my bed. You hurt me, until pain and pleasure became one. You didn’t even know my name. So you called me honey, the only sweet touch in our story.
When you came with a sore noise coming out of your throat I was crying and you made me come with your big hands, crying his name on my shoulder,then you dressed, and you threw a visit card on my night table:
“Call me. I liked it”
When you stepped out the door I felt I had become your slave, I felt our tears had set a link between us forever.
This is something I am never going to tell Marcus: the pain you give me makes our love stronger, the pleasure you give him is just the prelude to a farewell.
People can be deceived.
I’ll call you anyway, because I like it too, every single time.

Cherry

Mel woke up. He had fallen asleep on the couch, and that was not his own couch. His head was aching. He tried to recollect the memories of the past night.

He was at the “Paradise”, he already had a few drinks, the last one he could remember was a cocktail cherry and he could still taste the cherry through the sour taste of alcohol.
“You’re awake, finally…”
“Bo…Boris? What am I doing at your place?”
“Sorry for not having let you sleep on the parking of the “Paradise”, next time I’ll stick with my first thought and walk away. What were you trying to do?”
Mel tried to remember. Some confused images came to his mind. The image of Himself entering the door of his flat, and Kevin kissing with Nora. His knuckles reaching Kevin’s nose. The race with his motorbike to the “Paradise”. The first drink, possibly a Martini, followed by how many? He couldn’t remember precisely.
“Sorry…” he moaned towards Boris “…and thanks”
Boris, disappeared for a while coming back with a mug full of coffee.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“About what?”
“the reason why you were trying to drink the whole “Paradise” stock in one nigh?”
“drop it”
“As you wish”
Boris didn’t change since the last time he had seen him, and he didn’t loose the habit of taking him out of troubles. Mel felt annoyed for a moment. He always acted like a big brother, minding his business and giving him lectures with the cocky attitude of an old son of a bitch.
“I’ll drive you home” said Boris standing up “than you can take a shower and sleep in your own bed for a couple of hours before going to work”
Last thing Mel wanted was to go back home and get to see that bastard of Kevin making up excuses.
“Can I stay? Just for tonight?” he hated to ask, but being lectured from Boris was not so bad compared to what was expecting him at home.
“Alright than, but I am not going to give you my bed. You’ll sleep on the couch and you have to get out of here as soon as possible ok?”
“If you don’t want me to stay you don’t have to force yourself” Mel got irritated all of a sudden. He stood up
“I’ll be fine” he said grabbing the leather jacket from a chair and he headed to the door.
Boris reached it first and he went standing in front of it. He closed his eyes and Mel could see his troubled expression through the light beam of a street lantern hitting his face.
“I want you to stay” he said roughly.
Mel dropped his jacket. What was that? He expected Boris to scold him or to open the door for him. What was that just now?
Last time they had seen each other it was during a New Year party two years before. They were both quite drunk but, unlike Mel, Boris was still able to step and use his brain quite sharply.
After the party Boris had taken Mel to his apartment.
Mel could still remember it.
Boris carrying him in his car.
Himself vomiting on the edge of the street.
Boris undressing him and laying him in his bed.
Himself pulling Boris towards him.
A kiss. Boris touching him, himself kissing Boris chest and his hands going down and unzipping his trousers.
Boris suddenly going away from him.
“You are too drunk; you’re going to regret this”
That had been the last sentence he heard from him until that nigh.
“So, now I am not too drunk for you anymore?”
Boris shook his head. “You didn’t forget. I didn’t mean to hurt you or to reject you back than Mel. It was just not the right moment”
“And it is tonight…”
“I didn’t say that.”
Mel picked up his jacket on the floor “Let me go!” he tried to move Boris from the door but the man took his arm and he pulled him towards himself.

Mel felt his legs becoming weak but he tried to resist by sulking.
“You are such a jerk! Why didn’t you ever look for me?”
“Why didn’t you do it?”
Boris lifted him on his shoulder and Mel laughed pretending to be annoyed.
“Let me go old perv…”
Mel fell on the bed. Boris room was still the same: the wall painted in red, the big bed, with those cheap flowery sheets, the smell of wet coming from the ceiling.
Boris took away his shirt his grey eyes hooked into Mel’s green ones.
Mel was paralyzed, how much did he want that? He felt dizzy, aroused…lost.
Boris undressed him kissing him gently at first but Mel felt he was loosing control and he pushed him on the bed.
He wanted to taste every single inch of his body and this time Boris was not going to stop him.
Boris didn’t make a noise; he only felt his muscles tensing under his lips.
When Mel’s mouth reached his erection Boris whispered a moan
“M-Mel, don’t teas…”
“I am getting crazy already, why don’t you just take me now?” Mel was not able to flirt. His thoughts and his feelings were much to complicating to be put into romance.
He needed to feel him.
Boris stood on his knees, grabbed Mel’s waist and he turned him pushing his head on the pillow. He caressed his back clinging on him and he pushed himself inside him, slowly.
Mel’s eyes filled with tears. He bit the pillow, his body shivered.
Boris moans made him crazy. Mel closed his eyes and he listened to the voice of Boris whispering his name while the rhythm of his flesh pushing into him made his tension grow.
Boris hand grabbed Mel’s erection and began moving faster. The sound of their heavy breaths made their excitement grow to the climax when they both fell on the bed exhausted.
Boris squeezed Mel in his arms.
Mel giggled.
“You smell of cherry…” said Boris.
“I actually smell of you now, and I like it. Can I sleep here, or you want me to go on the couch?”
“What do you think, idiot…”
“I think I don’t feel like sleeping”
He gave Boris another cherry kiss and he disappeared under the sheets.

Side Stories #2 – Tate x Aki

[MXM]

Aki has red hair, he is fragile, you would think he is a dreamer.

He is not happy about the image in the mirror, too feminine to belong to a guy, but he wouldn’t stand being the portrait of a Neanderthal, so he copes with it.
Aki is in love, secretly: he is in love with Tate in an unreasonable way, and he doesn’t want to admit it to himself, it would be too painful.
Tate is a jerk with brown hair and a cunning smile. He loves his image in the mirror and he looks at himself smirking.
I wouldn’t call him handsome but he has a terrific ass (personal comment of a pervert narrator).
His blue uniform suits him perfectly.
Tate is in love, secretly: he is in love with Aki. He wants to take him but he doesn’ want to admit it to himself, not because of the fact that he is a guy, just because he cannot stand the idea of being in love, he cannot afford loosing control. He doesn’t like to feel week or to rely to someone different from himself.
They have to patrol together today. Aki feels tense, he would like to talk to him, but Tate is always so assertive that he feels like crying, but the last thing he can do is cry in front of him.
They have to check the red zone – nothing special actually – nothing more than a wheelie bin on fire from time to time.
Tate is driving while checking Aki with the corner of his eye. Aki stares in front of himself but he feels the glance and he blushes.
“Wat’s up?” Tate tries to be gentle but his voice sounds rough, slightly rude.
Aki tries to be assertive too but he fails “I..it’s nothing…just…I am just checking around, doing my job…it’s just…”  his heart is bouncing and he asks himself if Tate hears it too. Tate feels a pheromones shot and he swallows loudly.
“It’s just?” he urges languidly
“I feel uncomfortable…” Aki sais all in one go.
Tate cannot reply, he is confused, he didn’t realize that Aki returned his feelings and only now he understand how much he wanted it. They remain silent.
Aki shakes his head “I-feel-uncomfortable???” he thinks punching himself mentally “Since you were busy with it why didn’t you tell him that he makes you crazy and you’d like him to make love to you? Aki you are a complete asshole!” he lets his head fall.
Tate his looking for the right words to resume the conversation.
When he thinks about all the time he has lost playing the jerk, without realizing that what he really wanted was there by the hand, he feels like an idiot.
“LISTEN I…” they say contemporarily.
They can’t keep themselves from laughing, a releasing laugh, setting them free from fear and prejudices.
“You first…” says Aki without watching. Tate gives him a short glance then he looks back at the road.
The sun has the warm colour of the late afternoon and the shift is almost out.
“what about drinking something together when we are done here?”
“Actually I am hungry” Aki states tidying his air together with his thoughts.
“Well, among my thousands of qualities I am a great cook…” says Tate pretending to boast “what about me cooking for you at my place?”
“what will your girlfriend think about the intruder?”
Tate thinks about the girl of a few days before, nice to see, but she was so annoying that he threw her out before she could dress again.
 ”I live alone…”
Aki was hoping to hear that and he smiles ”Shit, I’ll have to wash the dishes since I cannot cook anything eatable!”
Tate laughs out loud and then he becomes serious. The mental image melts and Aki is in his arms.
“Listen Aki, what do you expect from me? I have never had a serious relationship. I am an asshole…it’s going to end badly, eventually…”
Aki feels a cramp in his stomach. “I think I can take the risk” he replies trying to keep calm. Up to that moment he only had that kind of conversation in his dreams “I’ll try not to piss you off…”
 Tate parks at the side of the road, just under a ‘no parking’ sign, he pulls Aki towards himself and kisses him softly.
All around them just the street stained with the colours of the sunset. They are breathing heavily for the surprise and the excitement. They kiss again deeply tasting each other fully.
“Hey, do you like pizza? I lied when I said I could cook…” sais Tate still out of control.
Aki nods smiling as the car starts again disappearing behind the corner - he is thinking that it will be the best pizza ever.