I always like to post an excerpt that hasn’t been posted anywhere before. So here’s an excerpt from Ricky’s Business that hasn’t been posted on any web sites or by any online e-book retailers. This is a scene from Chatper Four, where a she-male escort shows up at Ricky’s door and Ricky’s not sure what to do next. I edited a few parts, because this is a pg rated blog. But I like the fact that these parts don’t need to be in the book in order to have a storyline.
Later that night, the doorbell rang and Ricky’s entire body froze. It was one of those long drawn out bells that sounded like the chimes in Westminster Abby. He was sprawled out across his bed sideways, legs together, toes pointed, and back arched. No one ever knocked on the front door after nine o’clock at night. There was an unwritten law about that sort of thing in the suburbs.
The only light in the house came from a small gooseneck lamp on his desk. He jumped out of bed, pulled his jeans up and packed his erection to the right. He squinted and scowled; he was sensitive because he’d been on the verge. When he went to the closet to choose a shirt, he decided on a long, loose polo that would cover his crotch. All this fuss just to answer the door.
At first, he had no idea who could be ringing the bell. Everyone knew his mother and father were out of town. He doubted it was Leyland. Then, on his way downstairs, he remembered the phone call Leyland had made to the male prostitute earlier that night. Oh, it had to be the male prostitute. When he reached the front hallway and the bell rang again, he felt a sharp thud in his stomach, as if someone had just punched him.
He reached for the doorknob and asked, “Who’s there?” with a timid voice. He’d thought about not answering and pretending no one was home. But that wouldn’t have been right. Leyland had made the call and this person had come all the way out to New Jersey for nothing.
“It’s Dawn,” a deep voice said. “I’m the one you called earlier.”
Ricky took a deep breath and blinked. He’d been under the impression Leyland had called a male prostitute, not a female. “Dawn?”
“That’s what I said, honey.”
It sounded like a man. But what man calls himself Dawn? So Ricky opened the door slowly. When he looked up his head jerked back and his eyes popped. Standing in his doorway, in the middle of his neat, cookie cutter sub-division, was the tallest, blondest she-male he’d ever seen. Actually, it was the only she-male he’d ever seen in person, up close. Dawn wore a black knitted mini-dress that hugged every curve in his body, tall black stilettos, and a long brassy blond wig. His thick, long masculine fingers were tipped with long red nails that curved down like commas, his pierced ears had long dangling clusters of rhinestones, and his mouth was bathed in ruby red lip gloss.