Guest Blogger - Jessica Freely

My guest today is Jessica Freely. Jessica has Detroit in her blood and her books reflect this. If you read her blog's post ~ Unpacking the Case against M/M: part 4, and check out her links embedded in the text you'll find out even more about the writing life of this talented author.
But today, Jessica is going to pimp her latest book: RUST BELT 

Blurb:

Times are tough in the Rust Belt, where once mighty industries now wither and die. As a city struggles for survival, two men find passion, comfort, and redemption in each other’s arms.


Seth is scarred, body and soul, by his experiences in the Pit, an illegal fighting ring where men are brutalized for the entertainment of the crowd. Though he managed to escape, Seth will never forget those he had to leave behind. When he meets David, he is instantly attracted to him but knows that the sexy, bookish blond is far beyond his reach. Then David is attacked on the street and in an eyeblink, Seth alters both of their lives forever.

For lonely, virginal David, Seth comes out of the night like a hero from one of his favorite books, only hotter. Seth’s passion and tenderness pierce the protective shell of isolation David has drawn around himself. In the wake of their shatteringly erotic encounter, David asks Seth to live with him. But just when it seems like happily ever after can happen even in Detroit, Seth’s past comes back to drag them both into the Pit.

Excerpt:


“Want some Thai noodles?”



Seth looked up from the trash can he’d been sorting through and into the most beautiful brown eyes he’d ever seen. They belonged to a young man about his own age, on the short side and slight of build, with blond hair and cute, pert features. Seth had seen him around before, had covertly admired his ass as he made his way to and from his job at the little book store across the street. But until now he hadn’t realized how much he looked like the Kid. The resemblance hit Seth like a mallet to the face and he took an involuntary step backward.

“Hey, easy. I’m not going to hurt you. I just saw you and…” He lifted a Styrofoam box. “I couldn’t finish my lunch and I thought you might…”

Seth blushed, though whether it was because this guy actually thought he was afraid or simply because of being caught rummaging through the trash, he didn’t care to examine. He ducked his head and accepted the noodles. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” The guy turned and walked back across the street to the book store. It was a cozy place with a green awning and old-fashioned brass fittings on the door. It stood sandwiched between a bakery and the Thai Restaurant.

Seth watched him go, noting the way his brisk strides made his butt move. Sudden wistfulness overcame him. “Not for you,” he whispered to himself.

The guy, Seth decided to call him Books, really did look a lot like the Kid, but that was a bad thing to dwell on. If he opened those floodgates he’d drown in a tide of bad memories. Instead, he went over to a nearby bench and opened the Styrofoam box. Steam and chili spice wafted up and he lowered his face over the still-hot noodles, breathing in the aroma. The red pepper stung his nostrils and cleared his sinuses. His stomach, ever the pragmatist, rumbled and he dug in, allowing no more thoughts of things he couldn’t have or change.

God the noodles were good. Hot, with strips of chicken and little ground up chunks of peanuts. Seth couldn’t remember the last time he’d had anything as good as this. And there was a lot of it, too. Enough to take back to his little hidey hole under the overpass and finish later.

Mouth bulging and stomach rapidly filling, Seth sat back on the bench and let one of those rare waves of sated ease wash over him. Hunger and remorse were distant things in this moment. Soon they’d be back to keep him company, but for now, he was free to think on other things.

Like Books, for instance. He’d gone out of his way to give Seth this food, literally: the restaurant was on the same side of the street as the book store. Most people wouldn’t do that. Most people were too caught up in their own lives. Even the ones who did notice him usually shied away, uncomfortable or afraid. Seth was tall, rangy, with long unkempt hair and a black beard badly in need of a trim. With his army jacket from Coats for Hope, he resembled a crazy Vietnam vet. It took a fair amount of guts to walk up to a guy like him, who was pawing through a trash can, and offer him your leftovers. But Books had, and he’d crossed the street to do it.

Seth had seen Books walking to work and back every day. He was a book store clerk without enough money for his own car. He probably could have used these leftovers himself.

There weren’t enough brave, kind people in the world. Sitting there on the bench, staring at the book store as he ate, Seth made up his mind to look out for this one. This little business district was surrounded by a lot of not-so-cool neighborhoods and abandoned industrial areas.

The Kid was dead. There was nothing Seth could do about that and maybe there never had been. But keeping Books safe represented a new opportunity for Seth to do something useful with his misbegotten life.

#

But when Books really needed him, Seth wasn’t there.

It was three weeks since the leftovers incident and every night Seth made sure to be around the book store at closing time. Not wanting to alarm Books, Seth shadowed him from a distance.

The weather that night was typical for November: cold and drizzly. Seth hung back more than usual because the fine mist in the air would carry the sound of his footsteps farther. He desperately did not want Books to notice him, and that made him wonder, was he really protecting him with this nightly secret escort, or just stalking him? The fact that once he got back to his sleeping place under the overpass, he would jerk off to visions of Books as he had done every night for three weeks made a good case for the stalking rap.

So maybe it was these doubts or maybe it was just his ever-demanding hunger that made him go with the trick instead of continuing to shadow Books.

The business district dwindled away past Seventh Street and the next several blocks were dominated by an old derelict stamping plant, its surrounding parking lots, and an abandoned warehouse that now served as a cruising ground. Seth was walking past the warehouse when a car pulled up and some guy leaned out the window. “Hey, I’ll give you a twenty if you blow me.”

Seth turned a trick or two from time to time. Often it was the difference between a meal and another day going hungry. Just like right now. He hadn’t had any luck dumpster diving for the past two days. His stomach was so tight it was wrapped around his spine.

But he’d made a vow, and it’d be kinda hard to protect Books with this closeted suburban queer’s cock down his throat. Seth glanced up and saw Books turning down the street that ran alongside the plant. It was only a few more blocks from there to his apartment.

“Hey, deerhunter, you want the money or not?” The trick waved a twenty at him.

He really did. And Books was almost home. Seth’s hunger took over and he nodded and reached for the money.

He was on his knees in the alley around the corner, clutching the twenty in his fist and about to go down on the trick when he heard the shouting -- angry voices and one frightened one from the direction of the old stamping plant.

Shit! Books!

He stood up and shoved the twenty at the trick. “I’m sorry,” he said, and he took off toward the plant.
* * * *
Although Rust Belt is written to stand alone, there are three previous David and Seth stories. The first two short stories -- Hero and Stay -- are currently out of print but available for a limited time only as free downloads on my Yahoo! newsletter group:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/jessicafreely/
Scars, the third David and Seth book, is still available from Torquere:
http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&manufacturers_id=119&products_id=1637

Oh, and there's a contest, too:
Seth's a great cook and David loves to read. It's David's birthday and Seth is going to surprise David with a special meal and a new book. What are they? Most inventive answer wins a free copy of Rust Belt.

* * * *
I want to thank the multi-talented, Jessica for sharing her latest story with us today. The lady is as versatile as...John Barrowman! :~D

Glowing Hanukah Lights Contest

Hanukah begins Sunday evening the 21st when we light the first of eight candles. In my story The Game, we meet Dave Harris during a very special Hanukah weekend visit.
The Game will be available on the 19th from Aspen Mountain Press at this link.
Here's the blurb:
Dave Harris is a NYPD vice detective. Single, handsome and straight, with a brand new sexy girlfriend, he shares an apartment with Frank Paterno, his best friend from High School, unaware of Frankie's feelings for him.

Shari Nelson, a freelance reporter is madly in love with Dave, her new boyfriend, but has some secrets that are driving her crazy. Only Marcie Kaplan, her roommate and a lady with a few secrets of her own, knows just how much Shari's little vices are eating at her.

When Dave invites Shari to share his grandfather's cabin in upstate New York for a Hanukah weekend, she spontaneously invites Marcie along for moral support forcing Dave to invite Frankie along as Marcie's date.

Snowbound in the cabin, with no way of getting help and a cupboard more empty than Old Mother Hubbard's, they divert the time playing "Strip Dreidle", a game that will force them to reveal their hidden secrets and desires.

If they're rescued, will they still feel the same?
EXCERPT:
Dave Harris had pulled more than a couple of strings to get off time from work to take this little four-day excursion. The Holiday season was always busy for the police, but somehow he’d managed to get that four-day back-vacation owed him.
He looked down at Shari’s sleeping form sitting in the front seat next to him. A strand of vivid auburn hair screened her face from view. His shoulder ached from keeping still for the past three hours so he wouldn’t wake her.

He sighed.

He’d planned on some alone time with Shari. After a month together, he still knew next to nothing about her other than that she was a reporter for the Brooklyn Bridge newspaper, a weekly rag that focused on news and human interest stories that affected the borough.

They’d met at a crime scene at a club in the Park Slope area. She’d been hanging around looking for a story and Dave had been instantly drawn to her flame-colored hair. He’d always been a sucker for redheads.

When she saw him eying her she boldly walked up to him, handed over her business card and simply said, “Call me”.

He had.

And for the past four weeks they’d gotten together whenever they had free time -- night or day. He smiled. ‘Get together’ was a pretty pallid way to describe what happened whenever they were in the same space.

Sex. Pure, hot, wet, quick, furious, sweaty fucking.

He met her once a week for lunch at Angelo’s, an Italian joint near the precinct. He’d never taken Angelo up on his offer to use the back room whenever he wanted, until Shari. The nooners had become a weekly ritual. His lips twitched as he realized that now whenever he smelled Italian food he got a hard on.

He’d taken her once, standing up against the wall in an alley in back of a snitch’s apartment near where she worked. On the spur of the moment, he’d text messaged her with the address and just one word -- “now”.

Ten minutes later, her skirt was up to her waist, her thong was down to her ankles and his cock was deep in her pussy. She’d come twice with his hand and once with his prick.

When they finished, she kicked off the thong and handed it to him.

“Think of me.”

And she walked back to work leaving him standing in the alley holding the scrap of black lace, her scent wafting from it, his cock hard and aching again.

The rest of his shift had been shot. His hand kept drifting to his pocket, fondling her gift and his mind kept drifting to the image of her walking around the rest of the day bare-assed. Finally, he’d gone into the men’s room and, locking the door behind him, jacked off.

He couldn’t remember the last time they’d had a full conversation. Hell, why talk? She was always wet and ready when he wanted her, no matter when he got off work. After the second week, she’d given him a key to her first floor apartment of the two-story brownstone she shared with her friend, Marcie. He’d crawl into her bed and she’d wake up instantly. They’d make love without saying a word, then fall asleep after. The next morning he’d leave after setting up coffee for her, a little thing that, but it was his way of making a connection outside of the bedroom.

He’d been like a kid given permission to indulge in his favorite wet dream.

But he wasn’t a kid and now he wanted more. More of the kind of relationship that comforted you when people got killed and you came home pissed and frustrated because you couldn’t do anything enough about it. He wanted more than just someone to go to bed with. Yeah, he wanted more.

But more Shari, not more people!

* * * *

Frank Paterno stared at the back of Dave’s neck and indulged in his favorite fantasy.

He was in the shower in the apartment he shared with him. The hot water pounded down on his aching muscles. Steam swirled around his body and his hair fell into his eyes as he rinsed off the shampoo. He squeezed his eyes shut to keep the lather from stinging, and when he opened them Dave stood there, naked, his cock hard and erect.

“Need some help washing your back?”

In his fantasy, he couldn’t speak, didn’t need to speak. He just nodded and Dave stepped inside the stall and shut the door.

He smiled, his hazel eyes crinkling at the corners. He wore his curly, dark brown hair short and it stood up in little swirls around his ears.

Frank wanted to caress those curls, nip his strong neck and feel Dave’s cock deep in his ass.

And in his dreams, he did.

“Turn around, Frankie. Let me get that spot you always miss.”

It was his dream and so he could observe the scene as though watching a movie. He saw himself turn around facing the tile wall, bracing himself for what he knew would come next.

Dave lathered up his hands and sank one lean finger deep inside his anus. Frank swore he could really feel it move within him, driving him straight over the edge.

He watched as he slid down to the slick, ceramic floor and heard Dave’s forceful command.

“Get on your knees and suck me. Now.”

He rushed to comply. Dave was so much more powerful than him. Even in high school, Dave was the one who earned a letter in basketball while he was the math whiz.

Dave’s folks loved to tease him.

“Maybe the stork figured wrong and left the athlete here with us by mistake. Duhvidle could use a little of your brains, boychik.”

Everyone would laugh and Dave’s mother would put another piece of noodle pudding on his plate.

God, he loved Dave’s family.

After high school, it seemed natural for them to share an apartment. Their natures balanced each other’s.

Dave never knew how much he’d agonized over being close to him on a daily basis and not being able to tell him how much he wanted him. He compensated by making sure to pick up Dave’s cleaning and keep the apartment neat. And he fantasized every time Dave shared the highlights of his latest female conquest. Dave had always kept his love affairs sweet and short, but even though he had only been with Shari a month, it was different this time. Dave had never stayed over night at a woman’s home. He had never wanted to get too close because of his job, but now things had changed. He agonized over how long it would be before Dave moved out completely.

He never brought over any of his gay friends, at least not the ones he was fucking. He had female friends who thought it a riot to cover for him. He’d actually once convinced Dave that he was engaged. When the so-called engagement ended, Dave consoled him with beer and pizza and season tickets to the Knicks. They’d sit next to each other at the games and each time Dave would grab him and scream in his face when the Knicks scored, he’d dream that the screams were ones of ecstasy.

He’d milked his broken heart for over a year so he didn’t need to bring home any females. But he’d finally run out of excuses.

He wondered though if he might have guessed how he felt. Every now and then he’d catch Dave eying him, especially after his so-called break-up. Probably not or he wouldn’t be sitting in the back seat of Dave’s car next to Shari’s friend, Marcie.

Time to get back to his dream and Dave’s hard cock waiting for him...

* * * *
And please check out my paranormal story, The Sweet Flag, an m/m historical paranormal romance with unique Jewish characters from Loose Id. And coming early in 2009 from ManLoveRomance Press, A Bend in the Road, about four Jewish gay men in 1880's Europe.

Remember to send an email to borntowrite@writeme.com with the name of my two Jewish characters to be part of a drawing to win a selection of holiday gifts! Your next stop on the Hanukah trail is EM Ben Shaul at this link.