My back catalogue is being republished by Totally Bound and eXtasy Books. The first of these, Poetry in Motion, is out now. Read an excerpt then enter the competition to win a copy.
POETRY IN MOTION - EXCERPT
Okay, so Paul was drunk, but seriously, he had to be fifteen years
older than every person in this shit hole basement club, with its sticky
floors and crap, watered-down beer. God, maybe even twenty. He shivered
at the thought, looking around in bemusement at the students and what
passed for fashion these days. He glanced at Duncan beside him, his accompanying business colleague on this trip to Lincoln. It had been Duncan’s
idea after a few drinks in the hotel bar to stagger past the cathedral
and down the sharp gradient into the town centre, looking for more
The day had been exhausting—a conference which had seemed to last
years, presentations that had been so dull that Paul had got his phone
out and started doing his online shopping. There were some great
two-for-one offers on at Tesco.
He’d needed a drink badly but was starting to question the wisdom of
leaving their hotel. Sure, it might have been nice to cruise the local
talent a little, but Paul wasn’t looking for young boys. He sighed,
feeling miserable. Out to family and friends but not at work, he lived
in a small, closeted little town on the northeast coast of England
that hosted not one single gay bar. Paul’s action was limited to his
hand most of the time. His last love affair had become a distant memory.
If it had been love, of course. Paul wasn’t sure he had ever been in
love or if anyone had ever loved him.
Instead of looking for this elusive emotion, he pursued sex instead. He supposed if Duncan
hadn’t been here with him, he might have had more chance of getting
some company for the evening. If they weren’t in a student bar in
Duncan leaned close to his ear,
voice raised above the techno shite which passed for music. “Taking a
slash.” He vanished into the throng of scruffy bodies.
Paul thought about hanging himself with his own shoe laces. He felt a
gaze on him suddenly and his irritated glance turned to a stare.
A man watched him from the bar, blond-haired with pretty, elfin
features and perfect skin. He wore impossibly tight jeans and a white
shirt with some sort of glittery scarf. A new romantic thirty years too
late. As gay as gay could be.
Paul’s stomach tightened as the man made his way over.
“Buy you a drink?”
Light with a cultured accent, his voice seemed to roll out of him
like rich velvet and chocolate. His eyes were a pale blue-grey, his skin
virtually translucent. Of average height, he was slender, those
sprayed-on jeans clinging to narrow hips.
Despite himself, Paul’s cock stirred. Nonetheless, he wouldn’t make it easy. He curled his lip. “Can you afford it?”
The man smiled, his teeth neat and white, his dark blond hair cropped
short to his heart-shaped face. He seemed full of the hope of the
young. In twenty years, that would be beaten out of him. “Yes, I’ve got
one pound fifty. Vodka mixer is a quid tonight.”
Paul regarded him in amusement. “I wouldn’t want to take your last quid.”
The man shrugged. “I don’t mind. You look like you’d be worth it.” He was persistent if nothing else.
Paul stared. His admirer gave him a cheeky smile.
“How old are you?” Paul asked. “Eighteen?”
The man glowered good-naturedly. “Twenty, actually. Twenty-one in two months.”
Paul shook his head and sighed. “Go away.”
“I said, little boy, go away and play with someone your own age. I like real men.”
The man’s eyes bulged. He looked like he’d been slapped. The hopeful
expression fell from his flushing face. He turned and disappeared into
To win a copy, please leave your name and email address in a comment and answer the following question:
Why do you want to win this book?
The most inventive answer will win a copy of the book on Wed 10th September.