It’s time for Tuesday Tales!
Today we have an excerpt from Songs of Red Currant Wine, Colors of Love #6!
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!
I lingered outside on the church steps, head down, smoking a Camel, tuna flip flopping in my gut as several people walked inside, every one giving me a fast glance before a sort of understanding overtook their features. They didn’t know me but they sensed that I was checking out the members as I warred with going in or going to the nearest bar/package store. The air had a bit of a bite. An ash tree nearby rattled and shivered in the fall wind, dropping its leaves in sheets of color with each salty gust. I hunkered down inside my jacket, waiting for my feet to make up their mind.
I glanced down at my scarred work boots. “If you’re coming in you’ll have to put your butt in the smoker’s tower out back.” My gaze flew to the front door. Clark stood there, smiling knowingly. “If you’re coming in. If not, then continue your smoke in peace.”
I inhaled through my nose, pulling in the scent of ocean, dead leaves, and rich tobacco.
“I’ll be there.”
I heard the door creak shut. After four more puffs I sauntered around the church, kicking up wet leaves as the toes of my boots grew damp. The tower rested right by the rear exit, a single white door set in a heavy wooden frame. I pushed my smoldering butt into the tower then stood there staring at that door. It was just a door. A simple white door. Why the sight of it was making my palms wet I didn’t know. I could leave now. Just walk off and get into my car and find a bar. Hell I could go home and slither down into the wine cellar and have me a rocking good time!
Now you’re talking!
That voice. It was that damn conniving voice of Julian’s that spurred me down the six stairs and into the church basement. Everyone attending the meeting spun around to look at me. I faltered a bit at the scrutiny. Not knowing what to say or do I forced a sickly smile.
“Hi, my name is Carl and I…” They all stared, Styrofoam coffee cups and stale doughnuts in hand. “I’m here because I…I’m an alcoholic.”
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