It`s time for Tuesday Tales.
Today we have an excerpt from The Bachelor and the Cherry, Campo Royale #2.
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!
It was a sullen ride to Kensington the next morning.
The inside of the Audi was toasty warm. Pity my soul was such an ice chard. The look on Yampier’s sleepy face when I had Babacar tote my bag to my car nearly broke my heart. If I had a damn heart that is. Foul men and disastrous romances had turned my ticker into a sunset fire opal. Gorgeous to view but cold as rock inside. Morning traffic was always a bitch, but I was soon pulling up to my Aunt Zizzi’s rowhome about fifty minutes after I’d left Wilmington and a truly heartbroken Yampier behind.
Parking was simple. Aunt Zizzi had no car so her spot was open. She’d lost her ability to drive last year on her eighty-fourth birthday. Vision failure due, I was sure, to the macular degeneration we were now battling. She’d sold the old Chrysler and redid her kitchen then took a charter bus trip to Atlantic City to gamble and see me in a show at the Yellow Slipper Casino.
Well, it was open after I double-parked and yelled at the fool running a game of three card monte in the slot. He gave me the finger as he gathered up his boxes. I suspected my car might be missing tires in the morning. I should have let Babacar drive me as he’d wished – he could be most persuasive – but Zizzi would need to go shopping I was sure. She never passed up the chance to go to Aldi’s when I was here for my monthly visit. She was also due for a hairstyling, and whatever else she stockpiled.
I hoisted my bag out of the trunk, tugged down the dapper little hat I’d chosen to wear with the black slacks, shirt, vest, and shoes. Black glama realness bitches. The only color on me was the pink band of my hat, and the small clutch dangling off my shoulder. Even my coat was ebony. I cut quite the figure.
I love the clothes descriptions! And I’m wondering just who made his heart so cold and unfeeling, except he has feeling for Aunt Zizzi. I’m wondering what’s going to transpire at his aunt’s place. Guess I have to wait until next week.
Love the way you describe his heart. Well done.