It`s time for Tuesday Tales.
Today we have an excerpt from The Christmas Tenor, Laurel Holidays #3.
Please do bear in mind that these snippets are unedited so please be kind if you find any mistakes.
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!
The flight to the east coast was uneventful. Pierre watched a movie about some young gay prince stuck in a boarding school who had found a darling little cutie of a boy – my brother’s words not mine – and was smooching said cutie boy in the broom closet. I did a little work then pulled up a political thrilled by Jake Tapper on my phone.
When we exited the Lear at Finger Lakes Regional Airport I was glad for my ugly brown sweater. Snow swirled in the bitter cold air. Walking down the stairs from the jet I inhaled that icy cold air and felt it tingle in my lungs. It had been a long time since I’d breathed in air that cold and clean. Perhaps not since my childhood days in Quebec City.
“It’s colder than a duck’s ass,” Pierre gasped then battled with the wintry wind for control of his red silken cape. It was quite an amusing sight to be honest, my prim brother wound up in his own cloak, cursing vividly in French as I was snug as a bug in a rug.
“Perhaps you should have worn a frumpy sweater?” I tossed out then climbed into yet another Cabriolet Chauffer limousine. Pierre blistered the air with profanity but finally freed himself and joined me with a hearty huff of indignation. At least the beginning of this miserable trip was giving me a smile. I highly doubted any other aspect of it would.