It’s time for Tuesday Tales!
Welcome back! This week is our picture prompt week and all posts must reflect the chosen image. Our picture prompt posts have to reflect the chosen image and can be no longer than 300 words.
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!
Looking out from my balcony on the twentieth floor of the Luxe Urbain condominium building I found very few similarities between the city I called home, Los Angeles, and Quebec City where I grew up. People tended to say that once Christmas rolled around all bit city’s looked the same. I would argue that point to my death. While I loved the City of Angels and all it had brought to me it was not Quebec City. First of all the temperature was far too high. Back home it would be cold. The good cold. The kind that made your nose hair freeze and your head ache as soon as you stepped outside. The cold that the natives of L.A. complained of simply couldn’t compare.
The last time it dipped to below fifty degrees had been eight years ago. I recall it clearly as Carter, a born and bred Los Angeleno, had bundled up in a fur coat that he wore inside the office all day long. Which worked for Carter as he was one of those glorious gays who could wear fur and not come off as gauche. It had been a glorious coat. Rich black sable that had set off his buttermilk toned skin.
God but he had been a terrible diva. Also he had been the love of my life. What I wouldn’t give to hear him complain about the heat being too low or the cost of ripe mango or the fact that I’d beaten him to the LA times crossword puzzle. He’d been gone close to four years now – fuck heart disease – and I wasn’t sure I could face another Christmas alone. Looking at the damn tree my housekeeper Pear had put up made me melancholy as hell. All the stuffed bears he’d piled up among the presents from my friends and employees were charming as hell but depressing the living hell out of me. I’d kept that to myself though. The young man had thought he was doing well after all.
I despaired that there would never be another love like Carter for me and at this stage of my life I wasn’t sure I’d even want a grand passion if I should happen to stumble into one. Perhaps I was too old, too queer, and too set in my ways to love again.
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Copyright 2021 ©by V.L. Locey
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