Rafael Solece

"They Call Him Desire" - SIDNEY

zerrick.rafael@gmail.com (Rafael Solece) — Wed, 6 Feb 2013 16:35:00 -0500

This is an except from “They Call Him Desire” the thrid novel by Rafael Solece.The story that you are about to read is copyright protect (c)RafaelSolece, Altanta Georgia USA. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This webblog and any contents found with are protected and not intented for reproduction, be advised that reproduction of this content is strictly prohibited.

Sydney

The library was the only peaceful place in the house. I could hide out there for hours without anyone interrupting my thoughts and pestering me with stupid remarks about the way I chose to live my life. “Being La’Vou comes with certain responsibilities Sydney. Which means that you should be cautious of how you conduct yourself in and outside of these walls” is what my mother constantly would say to me as if I honestly cared how the public viewed me. Hell my own kin didn’t like me that much so how much weight could the opinions of Anyone outside these walls really carry. Besides the folks outside these walls probably regarded me in higher standing than my own family did.

It was only in the last few months that I had even been allowed to return back home after being shipped off to boarding school like an untrained puppy my last two years of high school, and that was only after I had refused to go to the college that my mother and father had picked out for me and bought my way into. My grades where hardly good enough for the Ivy League, of course my families money and name weren’t.

PILLOW TALK...

zerrick.rafael@gmail.com (Rafael Solece) — Tue, 20 Nov 2012 12:14:00 -0500

by Rafael Solece

There is something to be said about sharing yourself with someone. GET YOUR MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER BOYS AND GIRLS! I am not talking about sex. I am talking about talking. More specifically I am talking about the act of sharing your most intimate thoughts and feelings with someone. Not just anyone, but someone special.

Granted that is one of the most uncomfortable feelings in the world. Telling someone, anyone, your secretes. Especially someone you are attracted to or someone you are dating or in a relationship with. It seems to me that where we seem to be able to tell our friends all of the gory details of our lives; our perverse sexual fantasies and our deepest insecurities, when it comes to sharing those things with the people who matter most we just don't have the nerve.

And that is kind of pathetic when you think about it.

I mean how in the world do we expect to cultivate long lasting relationships if we do not feel comfortable enough to go at it RAW!

"When is Too Much Too Soon?"

zerrick.rafael@gmail.com (Rafael Solece) — Tue, 7 Aug 2012 20:20:00 -0400

The real life confession of Rafael Solece:

I have been dating this guy for a few months now. I know what you’re thinking. There is always some guy. But seriously we’ve been seeing each other for about two months now. He is a really nice guy; very much out of the realm of what I would normally date. He is, in a word, safe.

What I mean by that is. He is not typically what I would go for. You know me: I like the tall dark and handsome, corporate lawyer type, with a little jock and/or thug thrown in the mix. Very rarely do I go for the safe alternative. What can I say? I like a little danger. But I also know that, I haven’t had the best of luck procuring a life long partner dating those types of men. Usually they have more thug in them than corporate lawyer. So I decided that maybe I was acting a little insane in my pursuit of love and I thought that perhaps it was time for a change of pace.

Let Me Vent For a Minute

zerrick.rafael@gmail.com (Rafael Solece) — Wed, 18 Jul 2012 14:16:00 -0400

I can't begin to tell you how full my life is right now. With the new part time gig, gearing up to release my second book "Jaded by Any Other Name", the renovations on my house, and the post production for my first film project; I am feeling slighty taken aback by all the combatants that I am dealing with.
I am in no means complaining about the impending success coming my way, but I gotta tell you I sometimes wish I could by pass the frustration and oposition. Its especially frustrationing when dealing with oposition and undie frustrations from people in your life who know exactly what your goals are and they give undue grief, attitude, or stress. I a sure it is all part of that breaking ground process that comes along with building success, but seriously I good really do with out it.
Any way the plan fo the next month has been mapped out, as long as I stay focused and on course. There is nothing that could get in my way. So let's do this! Masquerade Productions all the way!

What Is The Golden Rule

zerrick.rafael@gmail.com (Rafael Solece) — Mon, 16 Jul 2012 14:04:00 -0400

What is going on in the world that dating has gotten to beso convuluted and frustrating? I mean do people even date anymore? I am asking because there seems to be way more sexing going down and hardly any dating going on at all. At least that is my experience.
I don't know about you but dating has become a real guessing game. I can't tell whether the men are seriously interested in me or if their just interested in my ass. And by the time I figure it out its usually too late, cause they've either gotten tired of waiting for the ass and moved on, gotten the ass and moved on, or gotten tired of my attitude and moved on. Either way I am loosing, and that ain't cool.
So seriously what's a guy to do? I am fastly approaching thirty and I haven't been in a serious relationship in five years now. Granted for three of those years I coul have cared less about settling down, but things change, people and their ideals change; and certainly I have grown up enough now to want more than to just be random sex. Sure its fun but while its happening (sometimes) but what do you do when the funs over and you've only got your rat-terrier and a duva to keep you warm at night. Well to answer my own question: you change. And I certainly need a change.
Of course that automatically got me to start asking my friends questions about their dating lives and sure enough a lot of them shared my feelings toward dating, men, and relationships. We were all "OVER IT"
And then enters Nolan. Nolan has been my friend for some years now and Nolan and I share similar reationship experience. We both have been in a very successful relationship that ended in tragedy and a very bad reltionship that ended in shame and bitternes. Well when Nolan was questioned about his dating experiences. Nolan immediately pulled out a little card he had tucked in his pocket and handed it to me.
On the front side it read "THE RULES" and on the back side it has a list of things and they read as follows.
Three Is Key
1. No sex until after the third date (Period)
2. Don't rush the "I Love You's" cause you don't really mean it.
3. Don't commite until After a Three Month Probationary period
4. Both parties should Discuss and Define your expectations. If you don't know what is expected the you can't be expected to know what you can or cannot do.
WhenpI looked up at him aftera long pause Olan simply smiled and said. Follow the Rules, the rules work. Now don't get me wrong, THE RULES make a lot of since, espscially in this modern society we live in now. But why are rules neccessary? And do we really need rules? Shouldn't some things be common since? (That is kind of rehtorical questiona) Of course I think rules are need especially when your dealing with gay men in Atlanta. The real question is will the rules work? Can we follow them? And will they actually lead to a long lasting relationship? Tell me wha you think.
TTFN....

My Pearls of Wisdom

zerrick.rafael@gmail.com (Rafael Solece) — Sun, 10 Jun 2012 14:03:00 -0400

A lot of times in our professional lives we wonder why things are not progressing as fast as we would like them to. I know I have. This is usually because we haven't always been dilligent about making things happen. Sure we make plans. We map out our course, but sometimes instead of planning a course of action the best thing for us to do is actually set ourselves in motion.

You can not expect to achieve anything making plans. Get up and make a move. A dream is only a pretty picture in your head.

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Romance's Revenge

zerrick.rafael@gmail.com (Rafael Solece) — Wed, 30 May 2012 05:51:00 -0400

Romance is a illucisive fantasy, That slips in and out of reality at whim. She has no knowledge of time, Not even a home to call her own. Though once she once shared a place with you. She dances through life sparaticaly, showing glimpses of the Former person she once use to be. Every now and then she stays with us, Just long enough to give us a taste of what life was like Before we took her for granted. Only to pack up and run disappear again, Leaving us lonely and longing for her presence. We use passion to fill the void that romance left in our lives, But truth be told, Once you have laid in the silient presence of Romances warm embrace There is nothing that can take her place. ~Rafael Solece~

Living In My Moment

zerrick.rafael@gmail.com (Rafael Solece) — Sun, 20 May 2012 02:28:00 -0400

There was a time when I use to be rushing through life, like there wasn't time in life to get done all the things that I felt I needed/wanted to do. Funny how when your young you put yourself on a time table and you rush everything. You rush into being a grown up because you want to do what you want to do but you don't take the time to enjoy your youth. Then when you are finally a grown up you rush to accomplish things because you want to be successful.

When you do that life passes you by. You mis out on things like the moment that you grow into who you are supposedto be. I missed that moment some how. I literally woke up one day, put on a Pot of coffee and realized I was a person. And not just any person but I realized that i was a person that if I was younger I would admire, even be jealous of me and all that I have accomplished thus far. Funny ho tha happened.

I am not everything I WANT to be. I still have a ways to go before I reach the type of success I want. Hell I don't even have all the things that I have wished for or that I feel I deserve. But I am happy with the man that I have become and the man that I will become and all that I have accomplished.

Most of all I promise that I will live more in the moment. Live more in who I am. Live more in what The Most High GOD has given me

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Food for Thought

zerrick.rafael@gmail.com (Rafael Solece) — Sat, 31 Mar 2012 02:01:00 -0400

Question to All My Members of The LGBT community: Do you feel that we as a community of same gender loving people treat each oher with the respect that we demand from the outside world? Are we as inclusive with one another as we expect the outsideworld to be with us? Are we as loving and supporting to each other as we expect theoutside world to be with us? I ask this qestion because I see so much shade, hatefulness. Separation, and prejudice amoungst us as a family in general: transgender, bi, gay, lesbian, butch, feme, masc.,black, white,latino, fat ,muscular, etc. How can we fight for equality if we are eqaul in each others eyes? Just food for thought...

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One Last Time, One Last Good Bye

zerrick.rafael@gmail.com (Rafael Solece) — Thu, 2 Feb 2012 21:14:00 -0500

A Short Story By Rafael Solece

I glanced out the window and then back down at my watch for the fifth time in the last twenty minutes. It was going on one O’clock in the afternoon. The moving men were an hour and a half late and I was growing more and more impatient by the minute. I was going to give them another fifteen minutes before I called the moving company to find out what was going on. And even though I despised using profanity, if they didn’t have a good explanation as to why their movers had not arrived here at my apartment, or why they hadn’t called to tell me that they were going to be late, then I was going to let someone have a piece of my mind. Who so ever happened to be on the end of my wrath, I didn’t particularly care.

This is exactly why I hated moving. It was the worst thing in the world to me next to my allergies and cats. And it was precisely the reason I had passed up three high paying jobs in the last four years. All of which were out of the state or out of the country, and they each would have required me to do precisely what I was doing now; rearranging my entire life. It meant, finding a new home, packing up all my things, leaving all my friends and associates. Only to have to relocate to a new city, integrate new people into my life, and get use to a whole new dating pool which was absolutely the last thing that I wanted to do.

I liked my life here in Detroit: my friends, my home, and the men. I was comfortable here. Well at least I had been comfortable here until the powers at be on my good paying job told me that they were eliminating my position within the company, ultimately leaving me without a job. Which is the reason why I am moving in the first place? My job was seriously the only thing that was anchoring me here. They paid me well enough not to have to move and honestly I liked what I was doing.

Of course that’s all over with. I thought to myself as I snatched the dust pan off the box next to me and gathered the trash I had been sweeping into it. I crossed to the middle of the living room and dumped the rubble into the black trash bag in the middle of the floor. I was tired and hungry. I hadn’t eaten breakfast and I hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. I had stayed awake until early this morning trying to finish packing so that by the time the movers got here everything would be readily accessible to them, and all they would have to do was pick my things up and load them into the truck.
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Street Sinuata: An exert...

zerrick.rafael@gmail.com (Rafael Solece) — Fri, 25 Mar 2011 17:54:00 -0400

This is an exert from “Street Sinuata”, the debut novel by author Rafael Solece. Street Sinuata is a powerful and aggressive love story about life, lust, and the delicate nature of love. Sometimes when you are born to a life of privilege and prestige, its easy to forget that “Privilege ain’t always promised to the prestigious and for when our dreams come undone that is when we learn that love and self discovery are the most power things that life has to offer….

Chapter#1
DESMOND

Desmond wanted deeply to join Ashlee in the shower. The red bone with the bushy bundle of hair was a hot peace of ass and he was up to pare on his skills of seduction. Ashlee’s little strip tease sent a ripple of pain down through Desmond’s loins and though he wanted to desperately take the little boy into his arms and bang him like the slut he was Desmond wasn’t the type of man to let his eagerness overwhelm him. There would be plenty of time for him to let his raging hard on have its way. He could wait for now, though every muscle in his body urged him not to.
Every fiber of his being wanted to knock the bathroom door down, snatch the youngin up into his arms and devour him like a rare piece of fruit. Desmond imagined himself taking him whole in to his hands like a summer melon. He imagined what Ashlee would taste like as his mouth moved over his flesh; nibbling. Slurping, and tasting ever craves of his ripe body. His ears tingled at the thought of the sounds that would escape Ashlee’s lips and Desmond’s body cringed at the thought of being close to his. It was too much to handle, just the thought of it, and Desmond forced himself away from the bathroom door.
Tonight wasn’t just indulging his sexual desires. Desmond craved something far more inherent than the release of fluids: Desmond wanted to be in control. He wanted to be in control of his life, in control of this moment, in control of his own desires and feelings; most of all he wanted to be in control of Ashlee. Or at least he wanted to be in control of the time that he spent with Ashlee. The capacity to control and shape his own life was something that Desmond had lost in the last months, and tonight he wanted to regain his position of power. Of course for that to happen he would have to take his time tonight. He would have to take his time and not allow himself to be seduced by the likes of Ashlee. Tonight Desmond had to have the power.
Desmond had allowed himself to rush head first into one too many chaotic situations. Situations where he was powerless and is powerlessness he had allowed his emotions to get the better of him. Desmond had developed a bad habit of falling into bed with men and allowing his better judgment to get lost somewhere between the sheets. Tonight Desmond didn’t want to be lost. He wanted to find himself. Even it meant in the body of a man that he knew would be gone in the morning. At least this time he would know that Ashlee would be gone in the morning, because this time Desmond would be the one to send him away. This time he wouldn’t be the one to get hurt, because this time Desmond would take the lead.
Desmond swept across the room and sat down on the edge of the bed. He folded his leg up on to his thigh and started to untie the shoe laces. He could hear the water running and Ashlee’s humming beneath the water. It reminded him of the many times before when he had sat on the edge of a bed very similar to this one listening to the sound of another humming to himself softly on the other side of the bathroom door. He had allowed that man to take the lead, and that man had taken him down a path paved with lies. Lies that had made Desmond vulnerable; so vulnerable that he had fallen in love, and inevitably he’d gotten his heart broken. And the pain of his broken heart had led him here: intoxicated and undressing himself for the likes of a wayward street walker.
At least with this stranger he knew what he was getting. At least this time he knew he wouldn’t get his heart broken. At least this time Desmond knew that love wouldn’t have an opportunity to over take him. At least this time he knew lust wouldn’t cloud his judgment. At least this time Desmond knew that he was going to have all the power. Cause he would take it from Ashlee. Ashlee was a vessel; a ship to the admiration he felt that he deserved but did not receive from the man he’d given his heart to. Ashlee was his redemption. Desmond was going to use the red bone to remove him-self from the trappings of his analytical mind. His body would be a vestibule for his pain and suffering at the hands of another. Desmond would release all the pain into Ashlee’s body, and offer him as a sacrifice, cutting him open in a pagan display of intense, un-inhibited, un-bridled passion. Desmond would treat Ashlee the same way that he’d been treated: as if he was nothing more than a tool for his sexual desires.
He’d tease Ashlee the way he’d been teased: physically, mentally, and emotionally. He would make Ashlee want him; crave him, dream of him the way Desmond had dreamed. Desmond wanted Ashlee too lust after him, to cry out for him, and in return Desmond would use Ashlee to ride himself of every bit of insecurity that lingered within.
Of course before Desmond could indulge himself there had to be a certain feeling of easiness on Ashlee’s part. The boy was too wound up. Desmond wanted him to feel relaxed. And Ashlee was anything but. Desmond could tell. He was good at reading people. Ashlee couldn’t see Desmond beyond his wallet. He was nothing more that a job to Ashlee, that needed to be done. Desmond knew his place, but he didn’t just want to be a job. That would have defeated the purpose of what he really needed. Ashlee was more than an expensive date Ashlee was providing Desmond with an invaluable service. Tonight Ashlee was Desmond’s confidence. Ashlee was his renewal. Something Desmond had never needed before. But after the week he’d had, this seemed appropriate.
Desmond pulled off the shoes and threw to the other side of the room. He unbuttoned his shirt and snatched off the tie dangling around his neck. He is hands were trembling slightly. He was nervous. A part of him knew that what he was doing was morally bankrupt, but he didn’t care at this point. He’d done far worst things in the last three months; surely this wouldn’t tilt the scales much further than they already were. He pulled off the shirt and slung it over the edge of the bed next to the tattered t-shirt that he’d snatched off of Ashlee’s body. He smiled as he ran his fingers over the fabric of the boy’s shirt. Typical attire for a young man of his age. Desmond moved to pick up Ashlee’s discarded jeans. They were lying in a heap on the floor. When he held them up to the light he could see that the jeans were good quality. Besides needing a good wash they were decent.
“Somebody had taken the time and care to get these for Ashlee.’ Desmond thought to himself
As he folded them and laid them on top of the t-shirt at the edge of the bed. “Where were they now?” He wondered.
He turned slowly in the middle of the huge suite. He couldn’t believe that he was standing here in this hotel room. Although, it wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to be standing within the confines of its walls on a Thursday night; in fact it had become sort of a ritual for him and his ex to meet for cocktails. Then sneak up to the room reserved under Desmond’s name. Then as carelessly as two horny teenagers they’d undress wildly as they kissed ferociously and then they’d fuck for hours on end. Coming up from between the sheets occasionally only to piss, and have another shot of liquor from the mini bar. At the break of dawn they’d lay in each others arms basking in the after glow of their carnal love making. It was the way they’d done it for months, and nothing ever seemed to change because his lover never wanted it too. And Desmond never questioned why he didn’t? It never seemed to matter. Of course, now that he knew the truth it all seemed so obvious. How could he have been so blind?
Desmond turned around slowly letting his eyes take in the many places where they had made love. Then he wanted nothing more than to savor those moments, and preserve them in his mind. Now all he wanted to do was erase them and replace them with new primal imagery. He walked through the double doors into the living space. He crossed to the bar and pulled down a small rock glass. Desmond needed a drink. Hopefully it would take his mind off of the hurt he was feeling. He poured himself a vodka and tonic, with three cubes of ice. It tickled the back of his throat as it went down, and the warmth spread throughout his body, and he began to relax. He leaned against the wall, and wondered about the boy in the next room.
Had Desmond gone too far in his pursuit at finding a way to dispelling the eroding memories of his shame of a relationship? After all there was no telling what this boy had been doing all night? And only god knows whom he had been doing it with? And what did that say about Desmond? After all he had picked him up, and was primed and ready to do some of the same depraved things to him.
“This is so out of my character.” Desmond thought to himself.
He took another long sip of his vodka tonic. The effects of the drinks he’d had earlier in the evening were fusing with the smooth taste of the belvedere, creating a sort of euphoric feeling. “Perhaps tonight it would be apart of his new character.” Desmond mumbled to himself. “Perhaps, it was time I started living more recklessly. I always play it safe. Maybe I should be a man whore too?”
There was bitterness in Desmond’s voice. And his thoughts raged through him like fire through a forest. After all Desmond had played by the rules his entire life. He’d been courteous of others feels, carful to take care when dealing with their hearts. He had been honest to a fault and a stand up guy and he had trusted that everyone else would do the same. And even then they had not he’d still tried to be the guy that waited on love. Of course a part of him now, wasn’t sure that love existed anymore. Perhaps all life consisted of was a gaggle of random sexual encounters. That’s the way most men carried on in life.
His mind wondered to his Ex-lover as he poured himself another drink. That was the way he carried on. That was the way his ex-lover treated men: like things to be used and thrown away. Suddenly his mind wondered to Ashlee, the young boy in the shower. He thought about the water falling over his smooth skin as it washed away the reality of his evening. Ashlee was one of those men that the world used and threw away, except that he allowed himself to be used and discarded like a tissue.
Desmond was happy he hadn’t gotten in the shower with him. There were so many things that Desmond wanted from Ashlee: needed from Ashlee, and he didn’t want to be thinking about weather he was clean or not while they were together. In fact Desmond didn’t want to be thinking about anything at all. He only wanted to enjoy the time that he would have with him, to use him, and throw him away.

As the water ran off of Ashlee’s body he smiled to himself. Desmond was a curious breed. He thought of himself. “No one, since he’d landed on those street corners, had ever treated him so delicately. No one had ever treated him like he was a man.” It was a far cry from what Ashlee was use to. He ran the cloth over his body and he felt safe there alone in that shower. It was the first time in days that he had let himself go like that. It was nice to be alone: to feel safe and be alone.
Ashlee, although quite aware of what Desmond inevitably wanted from him, was grateful for Desmond’s delicate handling of him. He closed his eyes and let the water batter his flesh. It flowed down his neck, gliding down the curve of his shoulder, and danced down the dimples in his cheeks. The warm trickle of moisture was relaxing in every way. And he was glade that he was alone. He really did need that shower. Ashlee felt so dirty and it felt so good to be able to scrub away the memories of what he had been doing all night in those dank alleys. That smelled so much like piss and shit. He hated those places and their cold musty inhabitants.
He closed his eyes and shocks his head wildly as he scrubbed at his flesh.
“So, how much for the three of us?” The tall white boys said as he pulled out some money and begin ciphering off bills. Ashlee watch the three of them gather around him. The smell of the alcohol was pungent and burned the hair of his nostrils. He could feel them groping at his body like the undead. They were pulling at his clothes as they started to unbuckle his jeans. The touch of their hands against his flesh sent a gut wrenching chill up his spin.
They spun him around. His face hit the wall with so much force he was surprised it didn’t tear his skin. They yanked down Ashlee’s jeans, exposing his backside. He could feel one of the as they pressed their hands hard against the back his neck. As painful as it was he didn’t dare cry out. He wouldn’t mumble a word. He wasn’t going to give the satisfaction of hearing him scream. Ashlee felt the pain as the first one entered inside of him. He bit down hard on his bottom lip to keep from yelling out in agony. With every sharp thrust he could hear his heated panting echoing in his ear. Each thrust sending a new shock wave of pain up his backside.
“Scream for me bitch.” He remembered one of them command from the sideline as his friend forced his throbbing dick up Ashlee’s backside. “Scream real loud, for me sissy.”
But Ashlee refused to give him the satisfaction, even though he felt like his insides where being ripped apart. As Ashlee moved the rag across his body he could feel the bruises they had left across his body. He relieved the abuse in his mind and a tear fell down his face.
When they had finished the three of them wiped their dicks across his back side as if he were a dirty rag and the tallest one tossed a few loose bills at him. Ashlee listened to the sound of their footsteps as they walked away. He let his body slide to the ground as he gathered his jeans from around his ankles. He was in pain and his pride was somewhere in the gutter next to him. And as he lay there alone he sobbed softly into the brick wall as he felt the soft drizzle of rain fall against his body. Ashlee shook the memory from his mind. He didn’t want to think about it any longer. It was over now and he there was nothing he could do to change it. As the water glided down his back, the steam rising from his flesh, he scrubbed them from his memory.
The bathroom was silent except for the drip of the facet and Ashlee stepped from behind the glass-dripping water onto the floor. His manhood hung heavily between his legs and the cold air snapped at it like a hungry dog. Ashlee reached anxiously for a towel when Desmond greeted him with a warm smile. He wrapped Ashlee in beneath the terry cloth and pulled him closer to him. Desmond was standing in his boxers and the warmth of his flesh was electrifying to Ashlee.
Desmond’s Hershey’s kissed skin gleamed in the shimmered like velvet in the above their heads, and Ashlee smiled shyly as Desmond spread his long hands over Ashlee’s shoulders erotically. Ashlee felt secure standing there in his arms. There with Desmond at that moment, he was in the safest place on earth. Desmond stroked him ever so lightly. Letting his fingers linger just above the small of his back. The sensation of his finger tips hitting Ashlee’s erogenous zones made him shiver at his touch and he felt so weak standing there. Ashlee turned away from him. He didn’t like feeling the strange sense of vulnerability.
Desmond snatched the towel away leaving Ashlee standing naked and shivering in the cool air. His extremities hung limp as gravity tugged hungrily at his giggly bits and Desmond stared with intense longing. Ashlee wrapped his arms around his body like a shy little girl.
“Don’t do that.” Desmond commanded. “You are so beautiful.”
Desmond eyes moved over the intricate crevasses of Ashlee’s body. Ashlee wanted to reply with something witty, but all he could muster was a sweet “Thank you”.
“No, really,” Desmond’s mouth moved in slow motion. “You are very beautiful.”
Ashlee looked away. Desmond moved closer to him. He let his hand move up his arm, over his neck. He cupped Ashlee’s chin, on the edge of his finger tips and lifted his face to his. Desmond’s eyes were burning and Ashlee could feel the heat passing from them to his.
“What do want me to do to you?”
Desmond asked slowly. Ashlee was confused. He didn’t know how to answer him and he wasn’t sure what Desmond wanted to hear.
“Does it mater?” Ashlee said softly.
“To me, yes, it does.” Desmond whispered. There was a sense of uneasiness in his voice. “What do want me to do to you?” He asked again. “Do you like to be fucked?”
His words were harsh this time: almost cruel. Desmond didn’t mean to sound so abrupt but there was no other way to say it. A wide grin stretched across the bottom half of his face. He wanted to seem tender but his words took Ashlee completely off guard. Up until this very moment Desmond had been very illusive about discussing the matter of sex. Ashlee paused to consider what he wanted to hear.
“I like what ever it is you want me to like.”
Ashlee spoke with confidence as he looked him deep into Desmond’s eyes. But his answer didn’t satisfy Desmond.
“That’s not what I asked you.” Desmond growled not meaning to. He threw the towel over his shoulder. “I asked you, do you like to get fucked?”
“I don’t know.”
Ashlee said with a chilly voice as he shrugged off his question.
“That doesn’t make any sense.” Desmond shook his head. “How do you NOT know whether you like being fucked or not?”
Desmond’s question sounded harsh. But Ashlee’s answer sounded ridiculous to him.
“Nobody has ever asked me whether I liked it before, or cared for that matter.”
Ashlee frowned. He snatched the towel from the rack on the wall and wrapped it around his waist.
“Do you like having sex at all?”
Desmond asked in a more curious and cautious tone this time around.
“I don’t know?”
Ashlee was beginning to feel like he was in the middle of a police interrogation. Why was he suddenly getting the third degree from the homo-detective? He thought to himself.
“I can’t say that I do.” Ashlee pulled the towel from Desmond’s shoulder and started to dry himself. “It’s always been forced on me.”
“But you are a hustler,”
Desmond sounded confused. He couldn’t comprehend. It didn’t make sense to him that a man would do work that he did not enjoy. Even if it was something as demeaning as prostitution, Desmond thought that one should have pride in what they did.
“I mean this is what you do right?”
“I do what I have to do.” Ashlee snarled. “I don’t have sex with strangers because I enjoy it. Half the time I don’t even get off.”
Ashlee threw the towel on the floor next to him.
“The guys I sleep with usually just get what they want from me, and then their gone two minutes after the nut, just long enough to get their pants up and through some money at me.”
“Wow.”
Desmond didn’t know what to say.
“Yeah,” Ashlee whispered without turning to face him again. “Let’s just say I’ve had some bad experiences.”
Ashlee was thinking of the three men in the alley, of his childhood, of his stepfather, and the numerous other men whom had used him and casually thrown him away without a second thought. Suddenly he felt the dirt clinging to his body again.
“When you’ve had the kind of life experiences that I’ve had.” Ashlee whispered in a soft subtle voice. “It’s hard to look at sex as a pleasurable experience.”
There was an overwhelming tone of sadness festering in Ashlee’s voice.
“If you don’t like it, why do you do what you do?”
“Like I said-” Ashlee stared at Desmond’s reflection in the mirror. “I do what I have to do to survive. I got no family here, no friends, no where to go. What else can I do?”
“There is something else for you Ashlee. There are other jobs you out there you know?”
“I’ve applied” Ashlee laughed, “And I while I’m waiting on them to call me back what am I suppose to do, starve?”
He spat at Desmond. Desmond could see that Ashlee was starting to feel attacked. He didn’t mean to sound as if he was judging him.
“I apologize if I’m making you feel uncomfortable. I am just trying to understand. I don’t see how you don’t have any sexual pleasures.”
“Like I said before I’ve never had the chance to enjoy it. Guys don’t care weather you like it when their paying for it, or if their forcing themselves on you. As long as they get their nut they could give rats ass weather it’s good to me or not. Oh they ask, but they don’t really care.”
“You said forced?”
It was the only other thing Desmond had heard.
“Some people don’t even pay you for taking your cakes they just do it.”
The last statement caught Desmond completely off guard. He stumbled back abruptly and then straightened up so that he didn’t give seem naïve. Ashlee didn’t see it. His head was down and he was feeling more exposed than ever.
“I am so sorry for you.”
There was pity in Desmond’s eyes. He felt an over whelming sense of sadness for Ashlee. This boy hadn’t had the best that life could offer him. From what Desmond had just heard, it sounded like Ashlee hadn’t had any thing good in his life. Desmond didn’t have the whole story but he knew there was a lot more pain boiling just below the surface. He didn’t know what to say or really how to react, and Ashlee didn’t give him a chance to. Ashlee glanced at his reflection in the mirror. He forced a smile.
“Don’t be sorry for me. I’m surviving.”
His voice was weighted in uneasiness. Desmond wasn’t about to let that moment slip away so easily.
“Sometimes Ashlee, survival just enough!” Desmond moved slowly toward Ashlee. He reached out his hand to touch his skin. “Everyone should be able to have at least one good experience to smile about. We all deserve something that we can hold on to, something that can get us through the hard nights. We all deserve some kind of sweet dream or beautiful nightmare to make it easier to cope with the bad times, especially in your line of work.”
“I don’t. All I have is a bunch of fucked up memories, and hard luck stories about being beat up and knocked down, mistreated, and used.”
Ashlee could feel his temper rising.
“I don’t know about being beat down, but I do know about being taken advantage of.” Desmond moved in close. He placed his hand around Ashlee’s waist and pulled his body to his so that his lips where next to his right ear “Maybe tonight I could give you something to hold on to. Maybe I could give you something to dream about when times are bad and maybe you can help me feel worthy.”
Desmond looked into the mirror deep into Ashlee’s eyes. They were a soft hazel brown; and they had a sad childish fear. How could someone so innocent looking, be so beaten down by life already? Ashlee had to have been several years younger than Desmond, He had so much to learn, but if he was already experiencing this much pain in life, this early, how was he going to make it through the rest of his life?
Ashlee could hear the sincerity in Desmond’s voice. It was touching to know that he cared at least a little, despite what his motives may have been. Ashlee had been just a small spot in the fabric of this little big city for the last year. He’d seen and heard a lot of lies and promises, but something about Desmond was honest. People just didn’t seem to care like that use to. Yet here was the one man who truly seemed to get it. And Desmond wanted so much to get it; to make everything in Ashlee’s life right. But honestly there wasn’t much that he could do in one night. Desmond squeezed Ashlee tightly in his arms, gliding his hands over his chest slowly so that he wiped away the moisture that had settled there. Ashlee closed his eyes and he felt Desmond press his lips hard against his neck. His tongue slid over the intricate folds of his skin.
Desmond swung Ashlee’s arm over his head so that it lay on Desmond’s shoulder. Desmond’s fingers moved down his elbow to his forearm, down his torso, across his stomach, pass his nipple, and he wrapped the palm of his hand around Ashlee’s Adams apple gently. The whole time Desmond’s mouth mimicked a sweet song against his neck and the sensation made Ashlee weak in the knees. Ashlee felt Desmond’s erect body pressing against his backside. The heat from Desmond’s groin was like a warm fire on a cold January evening, and Ashlee danced around it like moths to its flame.
Desmond spun Ashlee around. The movement was almost musical in nature, Ashlee’s body twirled around like a ballerina: strong and limber. Desmond pressed his lips against Ashlee’s and his tongue passed between them with urgency and ease. It was a deep passionate kiss that caused Ashlee to melt into him like ice cream on a hot summer day. Desmond lifted him up into his arms so that Ashlee was weightless and his feet were dangling just above the ground. He carried Ashlee like a child into the exterior bedroom. Things toppled over in his path, but Desmond didn’t care to know what he had destroyed. He was ready to finish what had started. Desmond could feel his own erection pressing hard against his stomach and the elastic of his boxers. His mannish desire was coursing through his manhood like the levies of a damn.
He tossed Ashlee onto the bed and his creamy caramel body bounced up and down against the plush white bedspread. Desmond watched with savage longing as his limbs feel either, which way and the towel that was secured tightly around Ashlee’s waist came undone, exposing the erection growing between Ashlee’s thighs. Ashlee looked surprised and excited as he rushed to gain his composure, but his body had already betrayed him. Desmond had ignited his fire as well. This was exactly what Desmond had been waiting for. He smiled as Ashlee lay sprawled before him on the bed, eagerly waiting to be taken. Yet some how the excitement was almost too much for Desmond to bare: his own manhood was screaming for release.
Desmond tugged at his boxers and they fell to the ground around his ankles, releasing his thick brown jewel so that Ashlee had a full view of Desmond’s magnificent body. It was exactly what Ashlee had imagined Desmond would look like un-cocked. Out of his clothes Desmond was a hard bodied Gladiator. His body sculpted to emasculate masculine perfection. It was a direct contrast to the Sid ditty button down board member in the well-tailored business suit that Ashlee had first been introduced to. Desmond stood up tall and Ashlee’s eyes moved over his body. His broad shoulders stretched wide like the wingspan of an eagle as back erect against his torso, which cut down into a venomous ventricle silhouette like the coil of a king cobra ready to strike. His chest was a massive mound of rock hard granite that made Ashlee wonder how the thin cotton shirt had contained such massive muscle. And Desmond smiled as he watched Ashlee’s eyes light up in the shadow of his physic.
Desmond ran his fingers across the folds of Ashlee toes. Ashlee twitched away from him, his body coiling in anxiousness. Desmond found pleasure art of his own seduction. But Ashlee didn’t feel like playing Desmond’s game. They had played enough games this morning and now Ashlee was ready to pounce. He rolled over onto his stomach and began a slow crawl over the sheets toward the edge of the bed in front of his now naked financier. A devilish smile spread across Ashlee’s face. He wrapped his hand around Desmond’s waste and pulled him close to him. For the first time in Ashlee’s adult life he wanted a man, he wanted this man, he ached for this man. He could feel his blood racing through his veins, coursing through his body as his hand moved over Desmond’s stomach. He ran his fingers nails across the tight flesh of his chest and he opened his mouth and took Desmond in.
Desmond’s head fell back on his shoulders and a low growl escaped from his lips. Ashlee responded gingerly. His mouth moved over Desmond’s shaft attentively as Desmond reached for him. Ashlee swatted his hand away. He would not be moved. Ashlee continued slurping vengefully; it was his turn to tease Desmond. He had waited for this moment to arrive and he would have him the way he wanted him; purring and pawing. Ashlee felt his power coming back to him. His heart pumped hard against his rib cage. Desmond moved his hand to Ashlee’s head. He didn’t want to fight him any more. His hot mouth felt so good against his skin. He guided Ashlee lips along the path as he twirled his hair in the palm of his hand. Ashlee’s throat worked in perfect harmony with his tongue, and Desmond was thankful for it.
When Desmond couldn’t take it any more he gripped Ashlee’s mess of hair and pulled his head back. Ashlee’s mouth hung open and his eyes watered feverishly. Desmond leaned over to kiss him. His tongue pressed into the back of Ashlee’s throat and Ashlee took him in. With a quick turn of his wrist Desmond flipped Ashlee over and spun him around so that he was face down and ass up on the edge of the bed. The action was swift. The maneuver caught Ashlee unaware and his eyes were dizzy with confusion. Before Ashlee could regain his composure Desmond buried his face between Ashlee’s butt cheeks. Desmond’s wet tongue sent a tingle pulsing up Ashlee back like stream through a forest. Desmond’s tongue tickled the folds of his insides, as it swept in and out of his tight hole. And when Ashlee didn’t think he could take it anymore Desmond’s tongue plunged deep into his center. The tingle electrified Ashlee’s whole body. His mind began to run a million miles a minute. And his heart began to beat uncontrollably. He had never felt so exhilarated before in his life. It was like being on fire and swimming through an icy river. And Ashlee screamed out for him, as his hands groped anxiously at the sheets.
Desmond had found Ashlee’s button: his ecstasy button. Ashlee had never had this done to him before. No one had ever pleasured. Nor had anyone made him feel the need to give pleasure. It was foreign feeling. And the further Desmond’s tongue moved between his cheeks the more of his control Ashlee felt slipping away; and Desmond sensed it, craved it, need it. The less control Ashlee had, the more powerful Desmond felt rising in his chest. His tongued darted in and out of Ashlee’s hole with an excess amount of force. And the sounds coming from between his cheeks become louder, and more anxious as Desmond devoured Ashlee. He loved the way his insides tasted and he pressed his tongue as far as it would. The smell of the soap mingled with Ashlee’s torrent stench made Desmond yearn for more. His erection ached now and it cried to taste Ashlee too.
He stroked himself slowly to please the hunger he had. Desmond didn’t want to stop smacking. He was too greedy for that. He didn’t want to pull away, and Ashlee didn’t want him to. But Desmond knew he couldn’t hold off any longer. He wanted to do to Ashlee what he had been imagining doing since the first time he’d seen him. He reached for the condom and lube he had sitting on the night stand.
Everything started to move so fast. With one quick motion he had strapped up, lubricated, and was ready to go in. He generously applied some to Ashlee’s wet hole. His fingers tickled Ashlee’s insides as they swept in and out of his cheeks. Desmond pulled him upright, wrapping his hands around his chest. He closed eyes tightly, and took in a deep breath as he pressed his peace between Ashlee’s soft cheeks. His head rolled back on his shoulders as he felt the warmth of his insides spread over the head of his stick. Ashlee tensed. Desmond massaged his nipples and let his lips caress his skin. Ashlee had never liked being penetrated before. It had always been so reckless. But Desmond was so gentle, so sweet, and so tender. He felt himself relax and Desmond’s wood invaded his body with the same ease as his tongue. Ashlee had never had dick feel so good. Desmond bit down on Ashlee’s ear lobe. It was a sensual act of eroticism. Ashlee fell forward. His eyes closed slowly and his hands glided across the sheets. A slow soothing breath flowed from Ashlee’s lips, and he let himself go.
Desmond secured his hands around Ashlee’s waste. He pushed his way deeper and he could feel the walls of Ashlee’s insides pressing along the shaft of his dick. The pressure from his insides made Desmond’s swelling grow more intense. Ashlee tensed but Desmond eased it right on in.
“Breath slowly”
Desmond began to coach him softly as he caressed the small of his back with his fingertips.
“That’s right.”
Desmond’s voice was soothing and seductive as he coached his young protégée in the art of lustful lovemaking. Ashlee could feel every inch of Desmond inside him. The pain was so unbearable at first and then the pleasure started rising as they sat motionless for what seemed like an eternity. His hole began to throb as it clenched the width of Desmond’s dick and Ashlee wanted it; He had to have it. His hips begin to gyrate slowly, pulling at Desmond’s rod. His actions were screaming for him to give it up and Desmond was more than willing to accommodate.
Desmond began to pulsate deep inside of Ashlee. They both cooed and purred in ecstasy. Desmond pulled himself free and a wave of pleasure moved through Ashlee; it made him tremble and He begged for it
“Please!”
Ashlee cried out, and Desmond complied. That is exactly what he had been waiting for. He plowed it deep between his ass cheeks. Deep into Ashlee’s center, massaging the folds of his insides and sending foreign shock wave all throughout Ashlee’s body. The soft screams exiting from Ashlee’s parted lips meant nothing to Desmond. They were erotic mating calls, made by a heated lover. Desmond did not stop. Honestly he couldn’t if he wanted to. They had gone past the point of no return. Desmond threw his back into it: plowing deeper and deeper into Ashlee’s backside like he was possessed and Ashlee took it like a man. His body twitched with euphoria and it felt oh so good to Desmond. He smiled listening to the heated grunts of pleasure falling out of Ashlee’s lips after every thrust. His low sensuous growls trembled between the interior of Desmond’s ear, and Desmond responded accordingly. He hurled obscenities at Ashlee. And sweat seeped from his pours. His mouth started to water and his heart started to pound almost as violently in his chest as his groin pounded against Ashlee’s ass.
Ashlee cried out louder than before. Desmond felt him clench down tightly on his staff. The friction drove him insane. Ashlee steadied him self on the bed and began to throw his backside hard into Desmond’s pelvis and loud inaudible sounds fell from Desmond’s mouth. He tried to slow it down but Ashlee wasn’t getting enough of what he wanted. He wanted to feel Desmond in his stomach. Ashlee turned over onto his side and rolled over onto his back. He threw his legs open so that he and Desmond were face to face. Ashlee pulled Desmond close. He wrapped his legs around his waist, tightened his grip on him, and Ashlee maneuvered they’re positions so that he was now on top. The position change caught Desmond off guard, but it was exactly what Ashlee wanted. He could feel Desmond’s manhood pressing up into his prostate. He pressed his hands hard against Desmond’s chest to steady him self.
Desmond cringed from the friction. Ashlee was in control now, and it turned him on. He slid off of his dick slowly. Desmond’s face mirrored his excitement. Ashlee’s hair fell in front of his face. He locked his feet inside Desmond’s inner thighs and he smiled seductively.
“You’re teasing me.”
Desmond said.
“Not anymore.”
Ashlee purred in a Creole accent. He positioned himself over Desmond’s waist and slid slowly down on his stick. It pressed into his stomach again. Desmond felt it hit a wall deep inside Ashlee. Desmond grabbed his waist and Ashlee pressed his fist into Desmond’s chest. They grinded hard: Ashlee’s ass pressing against Desmond’s pelvis and no air escaped between them. Sweat covered their entire bodies; it fell from their skin, and soaked into the bed spread. Ashlee found his rhythm. His hips began to gyrate to a singular syncopated beat playing between them, sliding his body down on top of Desmond with such force, driving him to insanity. Their pulses raced out of control. Their temperatures climbed and their words slurred impulsively. With one last heated thrust Desmond began to jerk as Ashlee’s clenched down tight around his staff. He grabbed hold of Ashlee’s waist, his nails digging deeper into his skin and they both trembled violently.
Ashlee fell backward against Desmond’s legs. His breathing was out of control. Desmond held his grip around his waist tightly. It was a perfect position. He pushed himself deeper between Ashlee’s thighs. It was a rough impulsive move that caused a more violent reaction. Desmond’s body twitched uncontrollably and Ashlee shivered with fever. Ashlee exploded like a volcano. His spunk ran down the shaft of his dick, down his thighs, between his legs. It was warm and it turned Desmond on. When Desmond finally pulled out, cum poured from the tip of his stick. It covered Ashlee’s stomach, chest, and thighs. It was so hot. It was exactly what Desmond needed. Ashlee’s lifeless body lay twisted in a heap on top of Desmond’s legs. Soft whimpers of passion passed through his lips and Desmond smiled as he reached for him.
He pulled Ashlee into his arms flat against his chest. Desmond rolled over onto his side so that they lay parallel with one another. The sweat was still pushing out of his pours spilling over onto the sheet. He let out a low deep breath as he squeezed the man-child lying helpless in his arms. He kissed Ashlee softly on the forehead and nestled his chin in the soft bundle of lochs that covered his head. And silence fell over the room. Ashlee snuggled his face into his chest.
“Damn.”
His voice spilled into the silence.
“What!”
“That was so good.”
Ashlee murmured just before he closed his eyes and slipped off into a deep sleep.

Copies of Street Sinuata, by Author Rafael Solece, are available online at BarnsandNoble.com, Xlibris.com, Amazon.com, and Boarders.com and at your local bookstores Order desk upon request.

Untitled: Solitude

zerrick.rafael@gmail.com (Rafael Solece) — Thu, 17 Mar 2011 15:18:00 -0400

Solitude is where like hands met flesh beneath yet still darkness
Its unfamiliar touch was like a morroader
stealing away what did not belong to them

They found me alone
where no men were allowed to come and go as they please,

Yet they wait patiently for freedom to ring

Still familiar hands stole te fabric of me.

By Rafael Solece

"Pearls of Wisdom"

zerrick.rafael@gmail.com (Rafael Solece) — Mon, 7 Mar 2011 14:14:00 -0500

People come into your life who are sometimes meant to stay for seasons and some people are sometimes meant to be in your life for a life time. The problem with most people is that we meet people who are supposed to be in out lives for seasons, we fall in love with them and keep them in our lives longer than they should be. We need to learn that there are lessons in loving people, and we should take the lesson and learn to move on.

Learn to let people go!

"You will Always fuck up when you give Lifetime expectations to Seasonal People"

Aging Out of The System....

zerrick.rafael@gmail.com (Rafael Solece) — Sat, 5 Mar 2011 12:24:00 -0500

I am dating an older man, thats not such a big deal because of the fact that I normally date older more mature men. This particular older man is sort of fresh off on the fruit tree.

*whispers*

He's been married...twice.

He's sweet though, and treats me well. Extremely well. He's easy to talk to. I have a good time with him, and the sex. Well, the SEX, lets just say he's very "veral" for age. Of course most of the older men I date usually are. and as far as him treating me the way he does. If he didn't he would have been gone a long time ago. But then again he is an older man, and they tend to treat younger men a little bit better than guys my age treat their men. Not that I am an agious, I am just making an observation.

Most younger men think that way though, of course with them it has nothing to do with emotion. They like to be spoiled nand they think by dating older men that the older man will spoil them. Its a daddy complex. If he's older he'll pay for everything and let me do what ever I want, because I am young and pretty. I personally am not into that. Older mature men are sexy too and one shouldn't take advantage of the fact that just because they are older they're going to spoil you. Personally I like to spoil my man, but I like for the gesture to be returned. That's probably the real reason I don't date men my age.

They're selfish, spoiled, immature little brats.

Of course if I met someone my age who understood the dynamics of a good dating relationship then perhaps I wouldn't mind dating someone around my age. Of course that's a big "IF". SMH

Why are the guys my age so ill informed and why are older men so much more appealing? Is it because they are more experienced? I know my guy is...he's been married twice. Of course I like to think that I have a lot of experience too, that is why I attract such mature men. Or is it? Maybe its really my younth?

No its because I am a total package. Sexy, intelligent, ambitious, and mature. Who wouldn't want to date me. "Any guy my age!"

What about an older man is so attractive? What about younger men is so unattractive to me? I suppose the real question is: in the case of dating does age really matter?

Ready For Love

zerrick.rafael@gmail.com (Rafael Solece) — Fri, 4 Mar 2011 17:33:00 -0500

This is my prayer to the universe and The Most High GOD. I am ready...

Spoil Me, You and I both Know I'm Worth It...

zerrick.rafael@gmail.com (Rafael Solece) — Thu, 3 Mar 2011 03:59:00 -0500

A couple of weeks back I met this guy, or first date was a double date with a couple friend of his. I don't know how but during dinner some how we ended up having a discussion about Sex in the City. This was not some kinky conversation about sex in public restrooms and parks. You know we were talking about that television show about the four women living in New York City, trying to balance out their love lives.

I said then, as I have always said, that I identified myself mostly with the main character Carrie. I think I was identifying with her because I was drawing on the obvious similarities between us. You know; My being a writer, single, and wanting, or rather feeling that needed to be loved, and searching in all the wrong places for love and being tangled up in a mess of men. Of course I think lots of people want to most be a Carrie because we’re all sort of looking for love in all the wrong places, and hoping that like Carrie one day we will find our Mister Big.
Of course the gentle men that I was discussing this with made some sterling points that I had not yet considered. I mean to say he broke the characters down in a way that I would have never thought of. Of course all of this was said after he told me that there was no way that I could be a Carrie. When he said this I felt sort of offended. Somehow it felt wrong that he would say such a thing to me. As if to say I am not glamorous enough to be a “Carrie” but then he went on to explain why he would make such a blatantly rude assessment.
He said and I quote: you can’t possibly be a Carrie because unlike Carrie, you know what you deserve and what your worthy of. You know who you are…
Shut up, Right! He said that Carrie was the most confused character on that show. She spent the entire show summing up her self worth in every man she met. And the one man that she loved, BIG, she could never truly be with him because in her mind she always saw her self unworthy to be with him because of their station. Yet the one man that truly loved her for who she was, Aden, she treated him badly, dogged him out, and disrespected him. Carrie was never as confident as most people liked to think she was. She was mousy, unsecure, and she didn’t know her self worth. I know! I was like “WOW” my damn self.
The gentlemen went on to say that he personally like Samantha. Yes Samantha was a whore, vulgar, and brazen. But she knew her value. She knew what she was worth. And when a relationship was over she never cried about it or got upset about it because she understood that, that relationship, sexual situation, escapade was just that apart of her past. It didn’t make or break her and therefore it was alright to move on because she was strong enough to handle what was coming next.
He also made another great point about Charlotte, the mousy, society bitch, that I honestly wasn’t very found of. He said that she was a lot like Samantha too, in that as prissy, and prudish as she was she understood who she was, and she knew her own self worth. She knew that she was spoiled and that she was beautiful and that she deserved a privileged life style, and she understood that any man that couldn’t give her those things wasn’t worth being her man.
As he explained these things to me I started to see the women of Sex in the City in a completely different light. I started to see them not for their life styles, their clothes, and experiences but I started to see them for their attitudes towards the men they loved and were involved with and I started to see in those different relationships their attitudes toward themselves.
But then he said something that brought it all home to me. He said the reason that I don’t see you as a Carrie is because unlike Carrie you are a man that knows your self worth. You know what you deserve in every aspect of your life and he told me that I unlike Carrie, but so much so like Samantha, demand and expect life to give me what I deserve.
All I could do was smile sweetly and knod my head in accordance with his assessment. Needless to say, if you ask me which character from Sex in the City I most identify with now, I'll quickly to tell you Charlotte. You thought I was going to say Samantha didn’t you. Nope! I know I'm a spoiled little shit and I expect to be treated as such...Ever since that night when ever I am with me he spoils me. I think he trying to make a point.

Street Sinuata

zerrick.rafael@gmail.com (Rafael Solece) — Wed, 16 Feb 2011 15:12:00 -0500

"The Plot"

When you are born into a life of privilege and prestige it is easy to loose track of what is really important, and sometimes you forget that “privilege ain’t always promised to the prestigious...”

No one knows this better than Ashlee Baxton; raised on the Louisiana bayou, this bright-eyed Creole boy had everything going for him. He was well breed, handsome, and an extremely talented painter. All Ashlee had only ever dreamed of was that one day he would become a famous artist; joining the ranks of Da Vinci & Van Gogh; and Atlanta seemed the perfect place to hone his talent. Of course life isn’t always easy in the jewel of the south, and instead of art museums and the high society Ashlee found himself living a life of depravity down in the gutter, using the only thing he had left of value to keep from being swallowed whole by the fast paced life of this little-big city. But can a chance meeting with a attractive professional put Ashlee back on his feet?

Jacquelyn Mathews lived a perfectly packaged little world from birth; She had grown up one of Atlanta’s social elite. She had received the perfect education, and gone on to manicure a perfect life style specifically from her own vision. She had the perfect career and she had built the perfect home, with the perfect man; or so she thought. But, alas, even our lovely heroine finds that perfection is in the eye of the beholder. For her husband Todd is not the man that he pretends to be, and his secrete could shatter Jacquelyn’s portrait of perfection.

As Ashlee moves up through the ranks of Atlanta society, slowly gliding his brush stroke over the fabric of this painting-turned-reality, he will win the hearts of everyone he encounters; capturing both the intimate details of their lives, and a true reflection of who they really are. In the end some lives will be turned upside down, while others will be torn completely apart in this tragic tale of love lost and found.

“For when Dreams come Undone, that is when we learn that love and self-discovery are the most powerful parts of life.”

This Debute Novel By Author Rafael Solece is available at your local book store help desk or you can get a copy at any online bookselller. Boarders.com, Xlibris.com, BarnesandNobles.com. Get your copy Today....

Kissing Me: 101

zerrick.rafael@gmail.com (Rafael Solece) — Wed, 16 Feb 2011 14:37:00 -0500

A kiss should be methodical, soft, tactful, and moderately aggressive. Thatis if your going to kiss me. I hate a sloppy kisser. It is the easiest way to turn me off. There are others who would disagree, but then those others aren't me. If you kiss me you might need to practice before you do, because I have had extensive practice myself and I am quite accomplished at the art of the kiss my damn self. On top of that I will be judging you. and depending on your grade, well, that will determine weather you recieve further education.
Sorry, I have a thing for a man who kisses well. It's probably the easiest way to get into my size 31 express jeans. I know that sounds rather whorish but hell I am just speaking my truth. ..
"Rafael Solece gets a hard on when a soft pair of lips are pressed up against his ever so slightly"
It does something to me. A signal is sent from my lips to my brain, which immediately sends a signal to my manhood that it is go time. Unfortunately the same can be said for a bad kisser. If you have know idea what to do with your mouth, then you shouldn't have your lips close to mine. Because if sex is what you crave. Then Darhling you gets none here. It is as simple as that. I have no time at all for a man who can not kiss.
In my mind if you can't kiss then you can't then you probably can't make love. The two just go hand in hand. Call it a romantized view of sexual behavior. I don't care just know that if you step to me. Then you need to know how to kiss.
They say that the way to a man s heart is through his stomach. Well the they same something similar about getting into my pants. The way to my bed is through my mouth, and I don't mean unzipping your pants and pressing down on my shoulder...

Step Up or Step Off

zerrick.rafael@gmail.com (Rafael Solece) — Mon, 14 Feb 2011 15:48:00 -0500

My new mantra when it comes to men, friends, family, people in General; Step Up or Step Off. Is in my opinion the key to my success future success? I recently adopted this new way of thinking within the last month, as I have begun to revamp my personal, professional, and mental state of mind. It may seem a little rude, or a harsh phrase to utter to someone, but honestly it is something that should be said and screamed often. Simply because often times when we "ambitious people" (I am speaking of ambition a lot lately) get ready to tackle the hills and valleys of success we often have people who want to be a part of our success or a part of our lives. And Often times these people are either impeding on our success (slowing us down, or trying to halt progression) or their just along for a free ride. Sometimes these people [want us to succeed but have nothing to contribute, and there for they are just lumps sitting on our swiftly moving log. Well these are the exact people that need such a reality check.

"Step Up or Step Off!"

As I began my ascension into a more successful, empowered, ambitious me I started to see that some of the people in my immediate circle weren't of any use to me. Hell, most of them weren't of any use to themselves and the only reasons they were really in my life was because I was attached to them for sentimental reasons. But sentiment does not equate to progress. Sometimes we hold on to people so tight and we use love as an excuse to ignore who they really are; Manipulative, spoiled, arrogant, self righteous, procrastinating, hypocritical, un-driven, unsuccessful people. I am speaking of those people that have no purpose. We all know someone like this and these are the exact people we love, and want to advance with us, but they are the people who don't want to do anything for themselves. They are the people skating through life constantly making excuses for one thing or another. "I don't have a job because.." "I was fired because…" "I live at home with my mother because…" and "I smoke because.." Bitch please! Give me no excuses, only solutions. People with excuses are people who don't really want to do anything.

Lots of times because people have been our friends for so long we ourselves even begin to make excuses for their lazy behavior. when we know that the truth is just that: their lazy. SO if they're too lazy to care about their own situation, life, career, stomachs, living situation. Why in the hell should it be of any concern to us.

What kill's me is the people who latch on to other people, ambitious successful people and BLOCK! Cock block, blessing block, just damn block. They are the people who can see your success clearly, and in its entirety. Yet they know they are not good enough for you or willing to put in the time/effort it would take to be what you need, desire, want. So they continue to hold on to you because they figure that as long as their around they might as well get what they can get from you. Or at least keep someone else from coming into your life that is going to put in the work, give you the resources, time, energy (good energy) to supply you with what you need to be successful. Ain't that a blimp?

But get this: That is your fault! It was my fault too. People will only do to you, what you allow them to do to you. And we, more often than not, allow people to do some awful stuff to us, in the name of sentiment. Well fuck that I ain't having it no more and neither should any of you. My family, my friends, my loves: Life is too short, it's already filled with pain and hard times. Why make your life any harder than it already has to be just because you love somebody. Your Friends, your family, you boyfriend or girlfriend are the exact people who can hurt you more than anybody. Why, you ask? Because they are the ones closest to you. So they have the ability to do more damage because you care about them.

Now understand this I ain't saying to hell with all your friends. What I am saying; is that we should all take a look at our circle of influence, hell, take a total 180 degree look at your life, and evaluate where you are as opposed to where you would like to be. Then look at that circle of influence and evaluate where those people are and what they have accomplished and whether or not their energy is good energy for you? If they are people who procrastinate all the damn, sit around on the couch eating bags of chips, if they are slackers who hardly do any work or are completely unmotivated, and smoking weed all day every day. As opposed to bettering themselves in school, or working toward a career, or trying to get a better pay raise at work, hell if they are just going to the gym every day to get in better shape. But they need to be putting out some kind of positivity in the air. People, who have nothing to contribute to life, are just sucking the life out of you with their nonchalant way of living.

Boo, that energy that you need. But if you're sitting on the couch with your friend and yawl are supposed to be going somewhere, but you got to catch the bus to get there. But every time it comes time to get up to go catch that bus, and your friend "hollers lets catch the next bus". So you sit back down on the couch with him so that by the end of the day you have missed every bus and the sun has set and you're still sitting on the couch waiting on him/her to move. Well baby that was a waste of time! Hell typing it was a waist of my time.

It is alright to love somebody but don't get loving a person confused. You have to love people at a distance, because the people you love aren't always the ones who love you. But then again maybe they do, they just don't love themselves enough to do better in life. Not your problem or mine. Us motivated people; who have dreams, goals, and ambitions don't have time to dilly dally on a fucking couch, at home all day, in the porn store, fucking every piece of dick, ass, pun that looks cute. People like us got shit to do. SO when I say: Step Up or Step Off! Honey it is because I got shit to do. And you do to.

You have my permission to use it whenever the situation calls for it.

Ta Ta for Now

Rafael Solece

This is my Midnight Confession

zerrick.rafael@gmail.com (Rafael Solece) — Mon, 14 Feb 2011 15:39:00 -0500

A little bit of Gay Erotica by Author Rafael Solece...

I have a confession. I have done a grand many things in my twenty-seven years on this earth, but I had never done anything like this before. And I honestly couldn’t explain to you why I had decided to do something so risky on a night like tonight? I suppose I was lonely. At least that is the excuse I giving myself as I climbed out of my bed. Or maybe I was just horny. Whatever the reason I had talked myself into this depraved act and I knew that there was no turning back now: especially since I was already practically dressed.

I guess there is a first time for everything.

At least that’s what I said to myself as I slipped on my shoes, pocketed the two five dollar bills that I had grabbed from the grocery money stashed in the can over the refrigerator, slipped on the over sized hoodie that my ex had forgot to pack on the day that I put him out, grabbed my keys, and slide out the back door. I tip toed down the stairs like a cat burglar creeping onto some ones fire escape, quietly trying o make my get away with out waking the my unsuspecting neighbors. I don’t know why I cared so much after all it was my neighbor’s fault that I was even up. His sexcapades had been the catalyst for this midnight tryst. I was horny and it was entirely his fault. As I listened to the female counter part of that beautiful masculine figure who resided in apartment number 5, screaming and moaning his name (loudly I might add) with such Intensity. I imagined his body moving rhythmically between her legs. His hot ass checks clenching with every powerful thrust sent me into over drive and I felt my own sexual organ pulsating between my legs, begging for me to release my fluids.

Before now I imagined him some lonely down low brother secretly lusting after me; biding his time for just the right moment before he approached me in some pornographic fantasy. Of course now my dreams had all but been shattered and I was left unsatisfied and ill mannered by the entire ordeal.
Yes I had only lived next door to him for three days, but my heart was broken by the revelation of his sexual orientation. Though satisfying as it sounded, and I had to admit I was a tad bit jealous as I lay alone in my bed. He sounded like a phenomenal lover, and my jealousy stemmed more from the fact that I couldn’t watch, and not merely because of the fact that it wasn’t I lying beneath his dark chocolate body. But that didn’t stop my imagination from wondering.

I laid quietly in my bed I closed my eyes and imagined myself laying in hunky neighbor’s bed, moaning euphorically in sexual bliss. Sadly, I could only imagine the types of things that he was doing to his equally attractive miss. In my mind he was a kinky lover, and especially vicious in bed. He choked, bit, smack, and spat on her violently. And a part of me really just wanted to know if my vivid imagination was truly on point.

As their love making coursed on through the night it became infuriating to listen to them, and by the time that they had finally climaxed for the fourth time in one night and drifted softly off to sleep, I was left horny and unsatisfied by the fifth ill fated attempt by my roaming right hand to please the monster called longing in my loins. So here I was walking the street in that, the hour between late and early looking for what some would call a date, simply because my hormones had over taken me. I felt a tad bit ashamed, but there was an air of exhilaration coursing through my veins. Though couldn't believe that I was about to make such a transaction as to pay for sex. I also felt confident in my new found inhibition. I had never done anything like this before, yes. I had always wondered what it might be like. Of course loudly and in mixed company I condemned men who did such deplorable thing as buying paying another for sex. All the while secretly I had always wanted to know what it was like to do it myself. Pay for sex, or get paid for sex.

What is this fascination with prostitution that we men have?

Perhaps it was the combination of danger mingled with civil disobedience that causes us to step so recklessly into the dark of night? Maybe is it the thought of something illusive or naughty even. The sheer garishness of the act. Its vulgar, dangerous, its a dirty little secrete. Perhaps it's just the lack of having a regular sexual release, or an over abundance of sexual energy? Or maybe its the tedium of a boring sex life? I honestly don't know, and at this very moment I honestly didn’t care.

My reasons are my own. Three months of sexual frustration bubbling over and now I was tired of waiting for the right partner to come along. I needed some full body contact. My abundant porn collection could only do so much and I had stretched the fibers of my imagination far beyond its boundaries, and the kink in my wrist had started to irritate me. I needed, no, I wanted a hard hung body. And so here I was walking the dead of night, my hands tucked into my pockets, my hood covering my eyes, my head lowered in fear and shame. I crossed over Peachtree Street, beneath the bright street light in the direction of the whore stroll, and my lips moved frantically as I whispered a silent prayer, hoping that my God would protect me and forgive me for my sin. Cause I knew that there was no turning back. I was about to make a improper transaction. I was about to pay for sex.

This is my midnight confession...

Age Ain't Nothing But A Number

zerrick.rafael@gmail.com (Rafael Solece) — Wed, 3 Mar 2010 18:13:00 -0500

Men have a lot of hang ups. Especially gay men; especially black gay men. We put a lot of requirements on the type of men we'll date and most often we'll settle for whats cute in the face, hard in the body, long in the dick, wet in the ass, and a commodity among the community, rather than going with substance.
Now don't get me wrong I am superficial about certain things myself. I just hate to date a man less feminine than myself; it bothers me. Not to mention that Drag Queens and Bottoms are a major turn off for me. First of all I can't see a guy in heals and a dress climbing my back: and well as far as bottom brother goes, we can't really do anything but swap stories. And I think i may have told more than I wanted to tell in this particular blog post.
Anyway, I bring this point up; about black gay men being so picky to point out something I myself am beginning to experience. Something I have never actually experience ever before in my life, and its sort of grappling with my nerves. You all know I am sort of kind of dating a guy. (I think, to be honest with you I am not really sure what we're doing, but we're doing something!) Anyway this guy, Mr Robinson is older than myself. Which doesn't bother me at all. I have dated older men before, in fact my first experience with a guy in a serious relationship was with an older guy. He was practically, if not my mothers age. We were together for quite sometime, and at the time I was in my early twenties.
However this fact has come up twice in conversations that I have had with Mr. Robinson, and I am beginning to more than think that our age difference bothers him. I am not sure if he thinks that I am too young and unable to really commit to the type of relationship that could possibly grow between us. Or weather it is that fact that he just sees himself as too old. What ever the reason there is definitely a sort of hesitation on his part, and I think that a little part of his hesitation has to do with the nature of the gap in age difference between us.
That sort of bothers me. I think it bothers me more than anything because I am a mature individual , and I have always been a mature individual, even in my early teens I related very well with adults and men of a certain age, and quite frankly I feel offended that he is allowing my age to quite possibly detour him from pursuing what would be quite an amazing experience. This bothers me a whole hell of a lot.
Is age really that big of a deal when deciding to enter into a romantic situation with someone that your attracted to. I mean i see older men flirt with younger men in the club all the time, and they don't seemed to be bothered. After all I did look young when you first started flirting with me, and I was younger than you when you slept with me, so why is it such an issue to pursue something more permanent with me like a emotional, and mentally stimulating relationship.
Is age really an issue?

Midnight Confessions: Part #3

zerrick.rafael@gmail.com (Rafael Solece) — Wed, 3 Mar 2010 16:16:00 -0500

My feet scramble to catch up with the shadowy figures in the darkness, as my mind began to devise negotiation strategies. I knew exactly how much money I had in my pocket, and though I was hoping to retain half of the ten I had brought with me, I knew that I wasn’t willing to spend anymore than that; despite the fact that I didn’t actually know what a date would cost because I had never bought one before. Truth was, if I had gone out to the club tonight I would have spent exactly that, and the possibility of me having brought some one home was a pretty great, so why should I expect to spend anymore than that for a boy I picked up off of the street?
Still part of me wondered; was I being rational? Was my idea of a fare price the same as the man who bartered his sexual prowess? Perhaps his self worth was slightly elevated and he didn’t think that my measly little two five dollar bills was enough payment for the gift of his sexual talents? After all I wouldn’t have been so liberal with the price point of my own sexuality. I personally would have been a fairly high priced hoe, or whore. But then again, how much could their self worth really be if they were selling themselves so freely on street corners? Of course at least they had the ingenuity to sell what most men/women gave away freely.
I crossed over Cypress pass the first figure who seemed to be having a lyric war with the lap post. The words flowing from his mouth as if he were a professional hip hop Pissarro. His hands moving back and forth across his torso like he was conducting a small hip hop orchestra. His jeans hung at his hips to reveal the bare skin that lay beneath the harsh fabric of the denim. My eyes moved over his clothes, through the part in his shirt at the base of his torso, and I took in the bushel of pubic hair that stared back at me. His yammering slowed as he slowly sized me up, and he swayed back and forth so that his jeans danced dangerously on his hips. I blushed beneath the cover of my hood.
I didn’t stop, I couldn’t stop. What was I going to say to this the emperor of hip hop? He was much to intimidating for me; just little rougher around the edges than I would have preferred to pick up on the street. If we had been in a more controlled atmosphere I probably would have approached him without hesitation, but his overtly thuggish exterior gave me pause, and I would have been thinking more of my safety than of the sexual exploits that would take place between us. So I passed on him; siliently hoping that he wasn’t the last peace of merchandise left on the beat. Knowing my luck he probably was and for the same reason that I had passed him by in the first place. He had an air or danger that was probably just too much that I or anybody else was willing to take a chance on.
I swept up the street; my feet quickly moving beneath me. I was almost back to Peachtree, and my nerves were getting the best of me. Perhaps this was a bad idea? I thought to myself as my fist clenched the keys in my pocket. Then he turned the corner, and my pace slowed almost immediately. His feet beat the concrete like a snare drum, echoing through the darkness and silence. His body swayed to a soundless beat that commanded my attention, and as he swayed melodically down the side walk I felt myself being pulled into by his brand of hypnosis. His cocoa colored eyes meet mine and his lips curled up into a dirty little grin. I felt my knees getting weak beneath me. Steady yourself boy. I said softly between slow deep breaths. I let my fingers move over the bills folded up in my pocket. I felt bad for not bringing more cash as my eyes moved over the outline of his physic as he glided in and out of the darkness and the light of the street lamps above us. He was in exceptional health; from what my eyes could spy.
His shoulders spread eagle across the scoop of his back, and rounded the definitive muscular contours on his arms. I took a deep breath and straightened my posture as he passed me. My eyes never left his and his never wavered from my stair. As he passed me his shoulder brushed against mine, and I felt a surge of electricity pass between our bodies. Then I heard his voice call out too me.
To be continued…

Chances, Control, & Vulnerability

zerrick.rafael@gmail.com (Rafael Solece) — Mon, 1 Mar 2010 21:56:00 -0500

Taking control really translates into taking chances for a guy like me; especially when when it comes to men, love, & relationships. I am one of those people who always let's the guy that I am interested in have control. It's my way of being safe and allowing myself to obserb at situation, as someone recently told me.
I don't normally consider this a bad habit it's gotten me through over thus far, but it hasn't neccessarily gotten me what I wanted, nor am I always satisfied with what or whom I have ended up with in the past. And with so many changes going on in my life I don't want to wake up and ever regret what I didn't do, what didn't say, or what I didn't take a chance on because I was too scared to take control. That's not living!
Soni decided tonight that I would be bold that I would take a chance. I decided tonight that I would man up, so to speak, and take control of my emotions. For he past five days I have raving about Mr. Robinson, the man that I meet at BB's crib playing cards on thursday night. The guy is everything that I could have thought of in a man that I could possibly be attractive to. Sensitive, intelligent, sophisticated, remarkably funny, very sexual (in that he keeps up with my appetite very well), he's cocky without being an ass, and he's so sexy. Of all that he makes me feel nervous in that good sort of way that intrigue and fascination makes one feel nervous. To sum all that up; I have a thirst for him. I have a hunger for him that makes me salivate when he crosses my mind, and it's crazy how extremely hard it is to shake him from my thoughts. I want him in a way that that I can only describ as being like starvation.
It is this very desire that drove me to get up out of my bed at 9:15 pm at night to take control. I wanted him to know how I felt so I am on my way to tell him & I hope that buy taking a chance at taking control, that it shows him how vulnerable I am.

- Writing Out Loud from my iPhone

A Revelations of Life

zerrick.rafael@gmail.com (Rafael Solece) — Mon, 1 Mar 2010 14:27:00 -0500

By Rafael Solece

The last couple of days have really been sort of eye opening. Everything that has begun to happen has really got me to contemplating some things about my life. Though everything in my circle of influence, personal, and spiritual and relative to my life in general is going in an upward momentum, there have been a few days in the midst of my progression that have caused me to pause. Cause me to think; caused me to reevaluate my understanding.

Most of which have had to do with major changes in my immediate lifestyle. Like my retreat from the day to day cycle of a nine to five. Or the revelation of being in the final stages of publishing for my first novel. (Even now it still puts a smile on my face.) Not to mention the launch of my website, and the beginning of my writing career; which has leapt mounds in the last couple of days. It is all these things that have changed my mind about certain ideals that I have held close to my heart in the last year; the biggest of those ideas being living a single life style.

In the past year I have birthed many things; from new visions to new projects, and each time that life has offered me a new level of understanding I have taken it with a hungry heart. When I decided that love was fleeting, and being single was much more pragmatic I embraced it whole heartedly. It gave me an opportunity to really appreciate myself and what I had to offer. It gave me an opportunity to understand that I was a gift, and that the person that came into my life should feel honored to be with me. Most of all, that time to myself give me the time to marinate on the gifts that The Most High had blessed me with, and to grow in my understanding of what I deserve, what I am capable of, and what is deemed righteous in my eyes.

The time I spent learning, appreciating, and building myself; was magnificent time spent. But I think in that time I forgot what is was like to have someone to share the triumphs of life with. Friday I learned that the first copy of my book was due to arrive her at my home. I was excited and my heart danced in a way it hadn't danced in a long time. If I had been a cloud I would have floated into the cosmos. That's just the type of joy I felt. But as I celebrated my accomplishment, I realized that I was celebrating alone. There was no one here to be married in my joy. It is funny how accomplishment, alone means very little when it is alone.

It was in the midst of my joy that I recognized sadness in me. I wasn't lonely in the sense of being alone. In fact; Loneliness I handled extremely well. I had grown accustomed and peaceful in that state of being. I loved the solitude of having what only belonged to me. I loved the peace of living alone. I loved the solidarity of being able to come and go as I pleased. What I found bothered most: was the fact that in my joyous, ecstatic, revilant, and triumphant moments of life, there was no one to share and reveal in them with me. That made was what made me stop and think. Made reevaluate love, and relating to someone, who loved relating to me.

It was then that I begin to feel the loneliness of being without a man who quite feverishly loved me. And who I could share the relevant, joyous, accolades that the bounty of my life was offering me.

MidNidght Confessions: Continued

zerrick.rafael@gmail.com (Rafael Solece) — Thu, 25 Feb 2010 16:09:00 -0500

By Rafael Solece

My eyes swept the street corners swiftly, as my heart pounded in my chest. The occupants that usually stood lording over the dimly lit street corners were absent from their thrown. My heart sank in my chest. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Usually the streets were filled with the presence of would be intimacy suitors, pacing the streets impatiently as they waited for potential buyers of their professional services. Yet tonight the streets were bare. A part of me felt that I was out of luck. Perhaps the usually inefficient Atlanta Police Department had actually gotten busy and ran off the male prostitutes that normally worked the back streets of the upscale midtown neighborhood. The panic ran through me like a flood of hot water, from an un-tempered enema.
I looked down at my watch. The time was only a quarter to four. The clubs had let our only forty-five minutes ago. Perhaps I had decided to find a date too late? All the drunken horny club goers had speed to the alley’s and scooped up the selection of dirty dick trade and taken them home to have a drunken row, leaving me alone in the darkness with no chance of satisfying my own sexual frustrations. I pondered going to the book star around the corner. Or perhaps trying to find the bathhouse that I had mentioned in passing on those rare occasions when My ears had picked up on the random conversations of other more sexually informed men of the same understanding as mine. But then how bold really was I going to be tonight?
Clearly this act had been a snap decision based completely on my own sexual hunger. Was I really will to venture into more conspicuous acts of sexual degeneration? More insightful, was I actually willing to spend more than the ten dollars that I had in my pockets? Clearly those other ideas would lead me to spend more money than I was prepared to. The better notion would be for me to turn around right now and go home clearly it wasn’t meant to be that I find a date tonight. At least not the kind of date that I had to rent by the hour, or by the act. I could always get on line and see if I could find someone just as eager as myself. I made up my mind to head back to the house, nut I would loop around the block before conceding defeat.
I slide between the shadows of two buildings. My eyes and ears alert. Not simply for the presence of the men that I sough, but for any dangers that might lay in the still of the night; a random attacker, gay basher, or lurking police cruiser that might have some intention on spoiling my evening. The stillness around me was almost piercing to my ears. I would have preferred some noise; the faint sound of moving cars, or even the blaring of sirens in the background, but nothing came to interrupt the solitude of the street. I turned the corner where the now empty parking lot sat parallel to the shadows of the stand alone warehouse style lofts stood in contrast to the vastness of the broken concrete. Still no sign of there ever having been a warm body for some time, not even the stale aroma of urine was present. I hiked up the street about a block filling very unhappy with the cleanliness of my new surroundings, and I longed for the danger of a real live neighborhood degeneration.
I turned another corner and finally in the distance I could see the faint possibility of ___. My spirits was lifted, and my feet plugged forward with a newly found purpose. The obscured figures far ahead of me slunk secretively in and out of the darkness. They’re bodies dancing with the urgency of of elusiveness. My heart danced along with them in my chest as my excitement climbed. It looked like I may get to purchase a gift to the dance after all…
To Be Continued.