The Opening

 

Well, I asked for it, didn't I? It started raining yesterday in late afternoon. It hasn't stopped.

That GIF reminded me...I promised to post a snippet from the series of short gay novels when the first one felt ready. The bulk of the story takes place at a men's clothing-optional retreat called The Woods.

I have to admit, the setting was inspired by Mistress Maddie's descriptions of the one she goes to each Summer.

Here's the opening:

Like a bunch of blue ants, the cops swarmed over Deven’s property. They were everywhere: in the house, the garage, combing through the grass out back, dumping his garbage cans and sifting through every scrap. One plainclothes guy in a blazer, with a badge hooked to his belt – who wears a belt with jeans? – oversaw it all, moving from team to team asking questions, pointing at things to be bagged and labeled. A photographer snapping photos before any evidence was touched. A very surreal scene.

I hadn’t known Deven all that well. I knew he brought home a different woman every Friday night. By morning she would be gone. And he’d help yet another different girl out of his car every Saturday. Impressive for a guy in his mid-forties, but what did I know about straight dudes? He must’ve escorted them out and home in the middle of the night. It’s only my assumption that happened after he finished getting his rocks off, because come Sunday morning he’d wander out in his tight little boxer briefs to retrieve the newspaper, wave, and give me a cheerful “Good morning!”

I hadn’t seen him in more than a week. From the look of things, it appeared he’d shagged his last. But the odd thing was, in all the activity, in all the commotion, there was no coroner’s wagon parked at the ready. Really rattled to think Deven had died, curiosity overtook me, but critters fluttered around in my midsection as I made my way over in response to Detective Blue Jeans’ yell for me. A small crowd of neighbors stood around watching, but he singled me out.

“Oh, he’s dead alright,” Blue Jeans said in response to my question, as he pulled a COVID mask up over his mouth and nose. “Did you know him?”

“Uh, in a way,” my muffled response went. I tried to control the lump in my throat, and begged the tears not to flow.

Is your curiosity piqued?

Would you keep reading?