Some Like It Hot

Some Like It Hot

Addison Albright

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A collection of three of Addison Albright's favorite short stories: Born to Be Wild, Dropping Quarters, and King Kong vs. The Skinny Pirate. Hot and humorous, don't miss this fun mix of short but sweet reads!

This volume includes the following short stories:

Born to Be Wild:

Roland is always willing to help a neighbor, so when the guys from the fraternity next door ask if he and his gay buddies will play a trick on a new pledge, he happily agrees. When Roland happens to discover that new pledge Fisher is not as uptight as he's been told, he starts to think maybe the joke is on him. Determined to turn the tables, Roland surprises Fisher with more than he bargained for. Will the plan backfire, or work out just like Roland had planned?

Dropping Quarters:

Luke's looking for love in all the wrong places. When he meets Cato at an adult video arcade, then again at his softball league game, Luke figures they might have something in common. Can Luke convince Cato that there's more to him than meets the eye?

King Kong vs. The Skinny Pirate:

Blaine is a well dressed, high priced attorney, and George is a hairy mountain of an auto mechanic. This odd couple meets up one evening on a slow night at a bar, where the pickings are slim. Slim enough for these opposites to eyeball each other and ask themselves just how bad they want to get laid that night.

 

 
PUBLISHED BY: Addison Albright
ISBN:
PUBLICATION DATE: 2009
WORD COUNT: 14011
SEXUAL CONTENT RATING: 5 5 5 5 5
EBOOK READER RATING:
CATEGORIES: ManLove, Contemporary, Erotica, Romantic Fiction
KEYWORDS: lgbt, glbt, gay, romance, erotica, erotic romance, short story
 

EBOOKS BY Addison Albright

EBOOKS BY Addison Albright

 
EXCERPT
COPYRIGHT Addison Albright/2009

From Born to Be Wild:

Roland used a long stick to arrange the hot coals in the ancient grill he and his friends kept on their back patio. He looked around the decrepit backyard. There were more bare spots than grassy spots and the metal shed in the back corner was more rust than anything else. He did enjoy the big, old, shady oak trees, though. He placed the grate back in place on the grill and reached for the package of brats.

He looked up when he heard a loud clanging crash coming from the YKB house. Fisher and Corey were dragging four metal trash cans around to the back of the house.

There was a vine-covered chain link fence separating the houses, but Roland could easily see over it. He watched the two pledges as he placed the brats on the hot grate.

They lined the cans up in a row and Fisher grabbed the coiled up garden hose while Corey picked up a bottle of dish soap and one of the scrub brushes.

Scrubbing out the trash cans? Man, Trey had a mean streak in him. Jesus, you couldn’t pay Roland enough money to pledge a fraternity. Although having a couple of willing slaves for three years after you'd put in your time as a freshman did hold a bit of appeal.

The sound of the hose powering into the metal cans was thunderous. Roland watched as Corey squeezed some of the dish soap onto his brush and reached inside the first can to start scrubbing it out while Fisher hosed out the other three.

What a nasty job. Poor Corey had his head all the way in the can as he scrubbed the bottom.

Roland was surprised when he saw Fisher dial the hose nozzle to “jet” and take aim at Corey’s ass. That was Trey’s idea of reserved? Oh, hell no, there was nothing at all reserved about Fisher. Roland almost laughed out loud when Corey squealed like Ned Beatty in Deliverance at the assault to his backside.

Fisher did laugh. His laughter was natural and untamed. Fisher fit right in with the YKB delinquents already. What was Trey thinking?

Roland watched as Corey grappled with Fisher for control of the hose. Something was up here, because Trey wasn’t that fucking stupid. Roland smelled a double cross. That much was obvious, but what was Trey’s game?

Were they planning to have Fisher throw an out of control snit when he saw the guys making out with each other all over the living room? Or maybe they were planning to have Fisher faint and cause a panic? Roland smiled to himself. Trey was good. He was pure evil genius. Roland wasn’t sure anymore that it was Corey’s idea, as Brad had suggested. That had been to throw them off track. This reeked of Trey.

Trey was a well known practical joker, and Roland was almost ashamed he hadn’t suspected anything. He’d simply thought the joke was on Fisher, but apparently it was supposed to be on himself and his housemates. Roland needed to figure out how to turn it around to be back on Trey and Fisher.

 

From Dropping Quarters:

Luke stepped into the crowded, smoky bar with Jake and Aaron. Neon signs hawking various brands of beer decorated the walls. They didn’t see any empty pool tables and wandered up to the bar for some longnecks.

Luke took a long draw on his beer and followed his buddies over to watch some pool. He saw a few Tigers uniforms among the players. He glanced around the room but didn’t notice Cato among them.

Fuck him anyway. Luke had given him two openings and the man had shot them both down. Fine, so he wasn’t Cato’s type -- not the end of the fucking world. He wasn’t stupid, and he wasn’t going to make a third play for the man, either.

So why couldn’t he stop thinking about the stuck-up little prick? Why did he keep reliving their shared moans back at the Ninth Street Arcade? The feel of Cato’s hands on him when he was doubled over, holding his forehead?

Why? Probably because of the potential he’d seen there. Cato seemed like a nice enough guy -- basically normal with a sense of humor -- and they at least had some shared interests since they both played in a softball league.

But, for all Luke knew Cato wasn’t even gay. Maybe Cato was bi, or bi-curious. The fact that he’d been in the adult arcade getting off watching gay sex videos wasn’t necessarily proof. Maybe he wasn’t single either. Luke hadn’t felt a need to visit the place while in a relationship, but that didn’t mean others wouldn’t.

Fuck him. He either wasn’t interested or wasn’t eligible. Either way, Luke needed to move on and quit thinking about the man.

Luke needed to figure out where he could meet an eligible man who was interested in more than a casual hookup for the night. He was looking for love in all the wrong places, just like the song.

Luke glanced at the silent jukebox and walked over to look at the selections. He smiled when he saw the Johnny Lee song was one of the options. He pulled three quarters out of his pocket, dropped them into the machine and made his selection.

 

From King Kong vs. The Skinny Pirate:

Blaine sat down on an empty barstool between a likely prospect and King-fucking-Kong. He cocked his head, summoning the bartender as he ran his freshly manicured hands over the textured cashmere of his Kilton pinstripe suit, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles.

"A Skinny Pirate, please."

The bartender quirked an eyebrow but otherwise kept his face expressionless. "Coming right up."

His peripheral vision picked up movement to his left. King Kong was looking him over. He turned his head to the right, ignoring the hairy behemoth, to check out his hopeful hookup for the night.

The man was maybe a couple inches taller than himself, casually dressed in freshly pressed khakis and a clean navy polo shirt. His dark wavy hair was neatly trimmed, and his hands, while not professionally manicured, were well maintained.

The man concentrated on a Screwdriver, studiously ignoring him, though. Fuck. The bartender placed the drink in front of him, and he slapped some bills on the bar.

"Why's that called a Skinny Pirate? Looks like rum and Coke to me."

Blaine sighed and turned to the muscle-bound hulk. "Because it's made with Captain Morgan rum and Diet Coke." He picked up his drink and spun on the stool to cast his eyes over the room. Nothing. No singles, anyway. The patrons all appeared to be part of a couple.

Kong turned on his seat and brought a domestic longneck up to his lips. The man was big and hairy—except for his bald head—but basically clean, albeit slightly rumpled, in jeans and a snug t-shirt. His goatee could use a trim and minute traces of grease stained his cuticles.

"Not much hope out there. I've already scoped the place."

Blaine glanced at the guy on his other side. Maybe there was still a chance.

"Preppy there's got someone that's going to be joining him." King Kong shrugged. "I already tried."

Shit. He took another look at King Kong. How bad did he really want to get laid tonight?

King Kong grinned. "Feelin' desperate, are ya?"

Fucker. Maybe not that bad.

King Kong actually wiggled his eyebrows. "I showered and everything."

Christ. The man was laughing at him. Sure he was picky, but he had a right to be, goddammit. He took a sip of his Skinny Pirate and cocked his head. "What's your name? Or should I just call you King Kong?"

The man's laughter reached his eyes. "That depends. You wanna be my Ann Darrow?"

 

 
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