It`s
time for Tuesday Tales.
Today we have an excerpt from Goal Line, Harrisburg Railers #6,
coauthored with RJ Scott. Our word prompt today is “Cart”. In
today’s scene Gatlin and Bryan meet.
This story may have gay erotic scenes,
strong social issues addressed and mature language. If those things offend now
is the time to move onto another Tuesday Tales blog. Thanks for stopping by!
I peeked at the total for the shop’s phone usage, grimaced, and then
looked up in time to see my work area fill with Russian goalie.
“Hello Mr. Gatlin gun man,” Stan boomed, throwing his arms wide then
gathering me into his chest for a bear hug that nearly flattened my glasses
into my nose. “I am still making fun joke about name.”
Stan pounded on my back. I coughed out a feeble reply then wiggled
free. I wasn’t a small man by any means. Standing close to six-foot-tall no one
ever called me shorty but in comparison with Stan I felt like a resident of the
Shire.
“Still a funny joke,” I told the towering man with his arm resting on
my shoulder.
“I know. I make many funny jokes. This is good one I make today for
Tennant. How do make tissue dance?” I started to reply but Stan ran me over.
“Puts boogie into it!”
I snickered. “That’s a good one.” My gaze caught a flash of blue
material lingering in the doorway. There stood a young man in a Railers hoodie
with brown eyes and a mouth that poets would write sonnets about. Tall and wide
shouldered, his gaze touching on mine briefly before dancing away. Christ the
kid was stunning, his long arms and legs adding to the gangly awkward aura
surrounding him. Dark hair cut short accented a strong jaw. Those eyes though…
They were full of sad secrets.
“I have more jokes! Why is so windy inside sports arena? All many
fans!” Stan howled at the truly terrible kids joke. I smiled then wiggled away
from the exuberant Russian. “Adler buy me book full of funny jokes.”
“Did you bring a friend?” I asked, taking my glasses off so the kid
didn’t think I was so old I needed glasses to read the phone bill. The fact
that I did was really neither here nor there.
“Yes! Is new friend and good goalie back-up for Railers, Bryan Delaney,”
Stan informed me, taking his arm from around my shoulders so I could step to
Bryan and shake his hand.
“Right, we picked you up on waivers from the Raptors. Good move for
the Railers,” I said as I extended my hand to the man. He glanced at me, my hand,
the wall, Stan, and then finally slid his palm over mine. His skin was damp
with nerves.
“You follow hockey?” Bryan enquired, his voice soft yet deeply
masculine. Quite appealing to be honest.
“Not much else to do here in Harrisburg during the winter.” I pumped
his hand a few times, curious about how a hockey player could be so timid.
Didn’t they need to be outgoing and assertive to play such a violent and aggressive
sport? This man was all kinds of contradictions in one sexy as hell wrapper.
Not that I was interested in wrappers, of course. I pulled free from Bryan’s
grip and put a foot or two between us. Standing by a rolling cart I turned my attention to Stan.
“You two here for ink or just to visit?”
“We no make ink now. Maybe later when we train Bryan for Pokémon
balls. Now we look for good artwork for making spifftastic mask like mine.”
Copyright 2018 ©by V.L. Locey &
RJ Scott
*~*~*
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8 comments:
LOL Reminded me of my grandkid's joke--Meet my friend mushroom. He's a fungi. Great job
Omg I love Stan and now we are getting a new romance to sigh over? Fantastic!!
I love Stan! And more stories, happy Snoopy dancing!
great snippet. Love the humor
Wonderful excerpt! Love the line-- mouth that poets would write sonnets about.
Oh I love Stan and his bad jokes! And I can’t wait to learn more about Bryan. Great job!
Gotta love your hilarious Russian hockey men. This one is a gem! Had me laughing. And then the poignant meeting of the two men for the first time. I loved the bouncing from one emotion to the other. Great story. Looking forward to more.
I love your writing and love this story! I'm with Flossie, I adore the line you used - a mouth that poets would writ sonnets about. Perfection!
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