Strawberries and Cream at the Plaza

Strawberries and Cream at the Plaza

Ryan Field

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Handsome, young Kellan works too hard and doesn’t spend enough time meeting new men. Deep down, he’s an old-fashioned guy who believes in romance and true love. He’s tired of sex for the sake of sex and wonders about whether or not he’ll ever meet the man of his dreams and fall in love. Though he’s willing to put his heart on the line to start a new relationship, the men he’s been seeing aren’t interested. Until he finally comes in contact with a nice young guy he never expected to meet. They exchange a few e-mails, set up a date to meet in Central Park, and wind up spending a wonderful Sunday morning together that ends at The Plaza Hotel where they dine on strawberries and cream. After that, they discover a connection neither one of them could have predicted. And though they are extremely attracted to each other, Kellan is adamant about getting to know the man he’s falling in love with first before they jump into bed together. 

 
PUBLISHED BY: loveyoudivine Alterotica
ISBN: 978-1-60054-486-6
PUBLICATION DATE: 2010
WORD COUNT: 4531
SEXUAL CONTENT RATING: 2 2
EBOOK READER RATING:
CATEGORIES: ManLove, Erotica, Contemporary, Romantic Fiction
KEYWORDS: loveyoudivine alterotica, lyd, e-book, allromanceebooks, Fictionwise, My Bookstore and More, 1Romanceebooks, Kindle, Amazon, Ryan Field, His and His
 

EBOOKS BY loveyoudivine Alterotica

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EXCERPT
COPYRIGHT Ryan Field/2010

During the walk back to my apartment in Chelsea, I began to question my life, not putting it down, just ready for a change. I’d had enough of casual sex, with empty endings that left no hope for the future. It was all too simple: finding a man on the computer, exchanging dirty photos, blunt information on sexual preferences…and it all gets tired. I suddenly wanted to discuss my life with someone, to spend a normal evening with a guy that was interested in things other than pounding me into his mattress time and again. I just wasn’t sure how I was going to go about it.

* * * *

On Monday, as I sat before the computer to begin a day’s work, with rain sheeting against the tall windows of my parlor-floor apartment on 23rd Street, I decided I’d start going out to bars and clubs again. Not much fun, but at least you can meet people and have a conversation. As a freelance writer working from home, producing short stories and articles and anything else they asked me to write, I’d become so consumed with work, I’d barely had time for friends let alone going to bars to meet men. And when I discovered the “listings”—and how simple it was to find really first-rate, anonymous sex—I just stopped dating altogether without even realizing it. Though going to bars and clubs wasn’t always the best way to get a date, at least it was a step in the right direction.

My assignment that day was to write a review for an international site that listed and reviewed almost every gay blog in the universe. Not the most challenging work I’d ever done, but I enjoyed reading the blogs and truly believed the entire concept was just coming into its own. My reviews were always kind, though not always honest. Most blogs were awful—no talent, self-indulgent, quasi-writers more interested in vanity than learning the craft, informing the world with poorly written journals about mundane lives and banal experiences. Who really cares about Allen-the-blogger’s blue-haired, fat-assed grandma, the canned peas and carrots they had for Thanksgiving dinner, and the painfully amateur impatiens garden in his suburban backyard? It often took more time to find a decent blog than it did to write a three-page review. But it paid a hundred buck per review, and I wasn’t about to turn that down. And the blogger meant well, good or bad.

I got lucky that morning. A blog written by a guy named Jason Patriot caught my eye. The first thing I noticed was that there were no hidden marketing ploys, no sexual ads with half-dressed models pushing porn sites along the right sidebar. Instead, there was a long list of recommended reading, both fiction and non-fiction, which the blogger thought was excellent. All works by GLBT authors, both current and classic, men and women. On the left side of the simple white page were sections to click, in medium blue print, which neatly and simply divided the entire website into categories of interest. Writings, Photos, Friends, Family, Vacations and more—all the topics the blogger was willing to discuss about his gay life. And dead center, in large bold print against a beige background, was a dated journal for posting. He discussed a recent business trip to LA, the leak in his overpriced NY apartment, a long, awkward Mother’s Day weekend with “Mommie Dearest.” Not terribly exciting events, but when you read between the lines (he had a gift with sarcasm and wit), you sensed there was a really cool guy working very hard to make his blog interesting.

Without hesitating, I e-mailed him with the basic questions—How long have you had the blog? Why did you start it? And then informed him that I’d be writing a review of his blog. If he could also choose a photo to go along with the review, I’d appreciate it. I, also, mentioned, in depth (something I don’t normally do), that I truly enjoyed reading his work and thought the entire site was spectacular. There seemed to be a force of hidden power screaming from his site. After all the awful blogs I’d read and reviewed, I meant every single word.

Surprisingly enough, an hour later, he replied with answers to all the questions I’d asked, thanked me for all the compliments, and then said I should choose the photo because he was very self-conscious about them and really didn’t like having his picture taken. I thanked him for his prompt response and told him I’d have no problem choosing a photo since I thought they were all very good, especially the one where he was standing in the rain with the green umbrella. I wanted to tell him that I thought they were all really hot, but I figured it wouldn’t be very professional.

He replied a minute later, obviously at home working, saying he thought it was interesting that I liked the “green umbrella” photo, the one he called “the frog,” and wanted to know if I was attending some big blogger breakfast in Central Park on Sunday. He said it was an event for bloggers to get to know each other.

When I replied that I hadn’t known about the event, he asked if I’d like to meet him there. Slightly shocked, wondering if he was asking me for a date, I replied that I’d love to meet him there to discuss his blog more thoroughly.

To which he replied, making himself very clear, “I’d love to discuss the blog, but this is more like a date. So I can get to know you better.”

 
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