four feet under with my buddies

The Interesting Thing About Feet…


When I wrote a short story about a guy with a foot fetish, I had no idea I would be getting the responses I’ve been getting. I had a feeling there were more people out there who are interested in this topic, so to speak, but never expected to hear from so many…and so soon after the story was released.

Evidently, at least from the feedback I’m getting, this fetish involving feet doesn’t have any restrictions either. I’ve received e-mails from men and women, gay and straight. And almost all reply with the same tone: discretion. And I appreciate that as an author who writes erotic fiction. Discretion is probably more important to the readers of erotica of any kind than any book review ever posted online. We still live in a society where things like foot fetishes, no matter how harmless they are, aren’t taken seriously in public. In private, however, I’m learning this goes far deeper than I ever thought it would.

I honestly can’t say when I’m going to write another story or book that focuses on foot fetish. I also know that a lot of people don’t like it…I’m finding it’s one of those things that people either love or hate. And, I don’t want to get locked into one particular theme, ever. But I will continue to add this into other books I write. Even though the book won’t revolve around a foot fetish I see no reason why it can’t be explored in one or two scenes in a book. And I promise I won’t make a joke out of it.

Here’s a link where you can read more about the book.

And here’s an unpublished excerpt.

When I walked into the gym, I saw these two
guys I didn’t know very well. Though I didn’t
know them by name, I’d seen them around
campus a lot. They were shooting hoops at the
other end of the gym. They were the only guys in
there, and when I opened the door, the clank from
the metal handle echoed so much, they both
stopped shooting and glanced in my direction. I
nodded and continued to the locker room, feeling
awkward and out of place. I’ve always found it
interesting that I often feel as if I’m intruding on
people because I’m gay. It shouldn’t define me;
yet it does.

The one guy shooting hoops was about six
feet tall, with long, lanky arms and legs. His head
wasn’t completely shaved, but his hair was so
short, all it would have taken was a few swipes
from a sharp razor to make him bald. He had a
dark olive complexion and a dark, well-trimmed
goatee that framed his lips. His legs were hairy.
He wore navy blue basketball shorts that sagged
below his knees, a white T-shirt that coveredmost of his crotch, and white Adidas basketball
shoes with those sexy little white ankle socks.

The other guy bouncing the ball was a little
shorter, closer to my height. He had dark curly
hair but not as short as the taller guy’s. He didn’t
have any facial hair, but he had the same olive
complexion. His baggy basketball shorts were
bright, school bus yellow and his T-shirt burnt
orange. From what I could see at that distance,
he wore bright green Adidas basketball shoes
with black ankle socks.

I’d seen both of these guys walking around on
campus more than once. They were always
together; they always kept to themselves. If I’d
run into them on a dark street, they would have
intimidated me. They looked like trouble. I’d
heard other people talking about them in the
student union and no one seemed to know what
their deal was.

High Concept: Four Feet Under…


As I posted earlier this week, I remember watching an episode of Sex in the City that handled the subject of foot fetish and it stuck with me for a long time. I wanted to write something about it but nothing ever came to me so I kept putting it off.

Those who know my fiction, know that I don’t always remain in the same venue all the time. Because I sometimes switch gears, so to speak, I feel obligated to let readers know what I’m doing in more detail so they don’t think they are buying one thing and getting another.

Sometimes I do write books I think are far more romance oriented than others I’ve written. TAKE ME ALWAYS is a good example of this. As you can see from this review/comment on allromanceebooks, a reader thought so, too.

OH MY GOD!!! I CRIED MY EYES OUT!. This was a very touching love story with alot of steamy sex. Make sure you have plenty of time to read the entire book in one sitting and a box of kleenex by your side. It was a very close adaptation of The Notebook except the character that was writing the story used a computer. Maybe we should call the book “The Laptop” (tee-hee). Seriously though, it is a great read.

There are times I like to have fun and take a Debbie Macomber trope and add a lot more spice and heat to it. I love Debbie’s books; don’t get me wrong. But just because there’s a basket of puppies in a book doesn’t mean there can’t be good sex, too. And there are just as many readers out there who want to read the sex scenes as there aren’t. There’s room for everyone.

In some cases, I’m often amazed at the double standards sometimes. I read about a popular book reviewer editing an erotic BDSM anthology and then I see on her blog she uses the word “heck” instead of “hell.” I know this is small, maybe even petty. But if you’re bold enough to edit BDSM, which is territory where even I’ve never gone in fiction (seriously,) give me a break with the “heck” bullshit. You’re clearly no saint; you’re allowed to use the word “hell” (smile).

I’m explaining FOUR FEET UNDER WITH MY BUDDIES because it’s not the most romance oriented book I’ve ever written. It’s more new adult, high concept erotica if anything. I’m certain fictionwise will classify this in “fetish.” There is a happy ending, character development, a storyline that would stand alone without the sex, and there could be room for a possible relationship in the future with the characters. But you’re not going to find a basket of puppies in this one.

The gist of the story is focused on one thing: foot fetish. And I tried to keep it lighter, without laughing at it like they did in Sex in the City. It’s one of those awkward topics late night comedians love to joke around about. I can just hear Chelsea Handler now. But the truth is there are obviously a lot of people, gay and straight, out there with foot fetishes and it’s one of those taboo topics no one will ever admit to aloud. And, we tend to laugh at things that hit too close to home and make us a little too nervous.

Here’s the blurb, and if anyone has any questions, please e-mail me.

Young Max is living at home and going to community college to save money. But his social life is nonexistent; he hasn’t been with a man in months. Then one Friday night he decides to go to the school gym and work out because there’s usually no one else around. That’s when he finds two of the hottest guys on campus shooting hoops in the empty gym. He pretends to be disinterested and they eventually follow him into the locker room. When he finds out they are a gay couple looking for a third, he’s stunned. And when they tell him what they want him to do to their feet, he can’t wait for them to take off their shoes.

High Concept Foot Fetish; Four Feet Under…


I have a new short story coming out in the next month or so that’s unusual…for me…in the sense that it’s focused on the concept of foot worship. I remember watching an old rerun of Sex in the City and there was a scene where a shoe salesman in an exclusive New York shoe store had an obvious foot fetish. That episode stuck with me for years, and I’ve always wanted to write a story about a character who has a foot fetish ever since. But I also wanted to do it with a casual voice, and without insulting those many, many people, gay or straight, who do have foot fetishes. I won’t know whether or not I’ve succeeded until the story is released. But I did want to explain a few things about the story in case readers have any questions.

First, this is not what I would consider m/m romance. It’s m/m erotica for sure; it’s m/m erotic fiction, for sure. But the emotional aspects of a true romance are not there. On the other hand, there is a happy ending, I do get into the emotional feelings and responses of the main character, and he is a very sensitive young guy who is going to community college for two years in order to save money to go to a four year university. He’s a decent guy; he’s a normal guy; but he’s into feet. And he meets two other guys one night in the school gym who feel the same way he feels.

Second, this is a high concept story, which I don’t usually do. The tag line reads: “Love, lust, and four big feet in a locker room.” Here’s the wiki definition of high concept:

High concept narratives are typically characterised by an over-arching “what if?” scenario that acts as a catalyst for the following events. Often, the most popular summer blockbuster movies are built on a high concept idea, such as “what if we could clone dinosaurs?” (Jurassic Park), and so on. However, it is important to differentiate a high concept narrative from an analogous narrative. In the case of the latter, a high concept story may be employed to allow commentary on an implicit subtext. The prime example of this would be George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four, which asks “what if we lived in a future of totalitarian government?” while simultaneously generating social comment and satire aimed at Orwell’s own (real world) contemporary society. Similarly, the Gene Roddenberry SF series Star Trek went beyond the high concept storytelling of a futurist starship crew, by addressing 20th-century social issues in an abstract and defamiliarising context.

High concept gets a little complicated, but a good example would be the movie, “Snakes on a Plane.” In this case now, with my story, it’s Four Feet Under with My Buddies. There’s no mistake here: my story is about feet. And the “what if?” is all about a young guy who finds himself in a situation that is exaggerated in more ways than one involving feet.

Excerpt From "Four Feet Under With My Buddies"

Here’s a raw excerpt from a new short story, FOUR FEET UNDER WITH MY BUDDIES.

This is only the second round, so be prepared for a few possible mistakes. But I think it’s interesting to post excerpts from raw edits so people see what the process is like.

It’s also part of the fun for writers to go through these things.

The day we buried old Clyde, it rained. A slow, steady drizzle began at noon and lasted for the next thirteen hours. And the only thing I could think about was I hadn’t gotten laid in months.

I stood outside beside my mom, dad, younger brother, and housekeeper, Mattie Johnson. We all wore black and held miss-matched umbrellas with frayed edges.

The only one who actually cried was my younger brother. And that’s because we were burying his pet rat, and we couldn’t have cared less. He’d insisted we all congregate in the backyard in a show of mutual respect, and we all decided to support him. He’s only ten; he made up a shoebox to resemble a miniature casket with brown paint and tiny little cabinet handles he’d pilfered from my dad’s tool shed. He even read a short eulogy he’d written on the back of a school essay in blue crayon and expected each one of us to say a few words about Clyde when he was finished.

When I glanced at the expression on Mattie Johnson’s face as she gazed down into a dark hole that looked about four feet deep, I smiled. Her eyebrows were quirked, her lips pinched, as she searched for the right words to describe the pet rat that had always made her either jump or scream.

Mattie Johnson cleared her throat and rolled her eyes. She took a deep breath and said, “Ah well, rest in peace, old Clyde.” Then she shot me a serious, urgent glance, letting me know she was finished and it was my turn.

I reached for my brother’s shoulder and said, “He was a great little guy. We’ll all miss him. He was one of a kind, buddy.” Then I flung my father a look to let him know it was his turn.

My father cleared his throat and glanced down at the shoebox in the hole. He seemed to be at a loss for words until my brother’s little head went up with an unyielding glance that even tugged at my heart. That’s when my father softened and said, “Max is right. He was a great little guy, and we’re all going to miss him, kiddo. He was one of a kind.”