It’s time for Tuesday Tales!
Welcome back! This week is our picture prompt week and all posts must reflect the chosen image. Today’s post is from my current WIP Fade in, A Tales of Bryant Romance. In this short snippet we get a peek life for a Manhattan movie producer Caiden Dell, as seen through the eyes of financially struggling and smitten film student Devon Maxwell.
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!
When I got to the top, I was in a small foyer with a wooden door. Pushing the door open, I stepped out onto a rooftop garden. The sun was bright. The sky robin’s egg blue. And Caiden was seated at a small table amid large potted plants that moved in the early morning breeze. There was a blond woman sitting with him. A small nugget of fear ignited in my belly. The man wasn’t married, was he? And yes, we were still in Manhattan. I could see the Flat Iron Building in the distance.
“You look edible,” Caiden called from his comfy chair. “Come sit down and join us. Devon, this is Polly Mayhew, my personal assistant. Polly, this is Devon Maxwell, my new friend.”
Friend. Well sure that fit, I guess. Friends who fuck. Got it. Man I wished I had some clothes. Holding onto my towel for dear life, I walked over to the round table covered with platters of fruit and eggs as well as a mound of movie scripts. Polly stood up, smiled, and offered me her hand. She was a stunning woman in the fifties classic moviedom sense. Hair and face of Marilyn Monroe, body of Raquel Welch. Yes, I dug old films. What kind of cinematographer would I be if I didn’t see the beauty of the feminine form as well as the male?
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said in a soft, smoky voice that reminded me of Joan Holloway of Mad Men. “Join us please.”
“We do this every Sunday,” Caiden explained. I was thrilled to see he’d finally tied his damn robe. It would make keeping my mind on the meal easier. “Devon here is a film student. Goes to CUNY with Isamu.”
“We just love Isamu,” Polly gushed, sitting down primly then placing a cloth napkin over her flowery shorts. “So, you’re the same age as Isamu then?”
“Yeah, yeah, same age. We’re both seniors next year.” The city sounds drifted up from below, not deafening but enough to remind a person of where they were. As if the skyscrapers and Empire State Building viewable from the white-fenced garden weren’t telltale signs of our location.
Thanks so much for dropping by!
Copyright 2019 ©by V.L. Locey
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