Here’s a sneak peak about a new adult erotic Christmas story I have coming out for the holidays. It’s going to be titled, THE COMPUTER TUTOR, it’s 16,000 word story, and it has a strong storyline about two young men who are just about to begin their real lives.
I think the concept of young people beginning their real lives is fascinating. Some begin them sooner than others, but we all begin them eventually. And we don’t always know it at the time. I know some people who think they’ve been practicing for their real lives for twenty or thirty years before it dawns on them they’ve actually been living their real lives all along.
Here’s the blurb. Below that is an excerpt. No cover yet. But I’ll post it when I get the draft.
For the first time in young Drew’s life, he can’t wait to go home for the holidays as an adult instead of a college kid. He’s just started a new job, working as a veterinarian at a 24 hour emergency care clinic. But his boss at the animal clinic tells him he has to work Christmas Eve and a good part of Christmas Day because the other ER vet broke her leg. Then it starts to snow on Christmas Eve and Drew’s assistant asks if she can go home to set up gifts for her children, leaving him all alone in the clinic with two older dogs who are recuperating from surgery. Drew is bored out of his mind, feeling sorry for himself because he’s all alone on Christmas. But it all changes fast when a handsome young man with black hair storms into the clinic with a basket full of newborn puppies in his arms and he begs Drew to save the mother’s life.
When I phoned my mom a week before Christmas Eve and told her I was looking forward to spending the holidays with the family, I honestly meant it this year. For the first time since I could remember, I was smiling at the thought of going back to Asshat, USA for a few days. Though I was still waiting for my real adult life to begin, I knew my young adult life in Asshat was over for good.
After years of hard work, I’d finally graduated and landed my first authentic paying position as a veterinarian in an emergency clinic the previous August, and I hadn’t been back home since Easter. I’d grown up in a small town about four hours northwest of Philadelphia. In high school, a group of us had nicknamed the little town, Asshat, USA and it stuck with me all these years.
In Philadelphia, I’d shared a dingy college apartment near University City with various guys for almost seven years, including a full time lover. I wasn’t one of those students who went home every weekend. I only went when it was absolutely necessary.
Ever since I left home for college, going back to Asshat for the Christmas holidays always filled me with anxiety and made me feel trapped. It was as if that little town were a magnet and it was sucking me back with a force too hard to resist. I experienced nightmares two days before I left Philadelphia. My heart raced at the thought of being locked in Asshat forever, working alongside my dad in his small veterinary practice, waiting to die a long, slow death. Landing my new job at the twenty-four hour emergency clinic had helped dissipate my fears. Now I had my own studio apartment in Philadelphia, a few bucks in my pocket for the first time in my life, and I was going back home as an adult, not a needy student.
This realization makes a huge difference: knowing that you’re completely self-sufficient and no one can tell you what to do anymore. Though you’re not a complete adult yet, you’re on your way. When you know you’re going home for a just a visit and nothing more, your childhood bedroom starts to take on an endearing, nostalgic appeal instead of a depressing, confined look that tightens your chest and makes you want to heave chunks. Mom and dad can’t even suggest what you should do with your life in a nice way anymore…because they love you so much. Your life becomes none of their business. I knew my dad would have loved to have me come home and take over his small practice. My mom would have loved me to marry a local girl, settle down, and provide her with a litter of grandchildren.
The trouble is that wasn’t me.
