It's been a little while since I've posted a work in progress quote, but today seems as good a time as any. This one is from Taking Advantage. This excerpt's a little lengthier than some of my other WIP excerpts, but I've got the first chapter finished, so why not? Leave a comment if you're feeling inspired.
Sam James pulled his black Lexus into the first empty space he saw and killed the engine. He slouched down in the soft leather seat and stared straight ahead at the brick wall. The night was fucked. He didn't have to check the incessant beep from the cell phone in his pocket to know his plans were blown. But he had to know why Chris was blowing him off for the third time in a week. Flipping open his phone, he dialed into his voicemail and sighed as the automated voice recited the date and time of the call. He frowned as Chris's breathless voice filled his ear.
“Hey, Sam, I'm so sorry, but I don't think I can make it tonight. I'm kind of in the middle of something.” There was a long pause, then muffled words before Chris continued. “Yeah, I just really can't tonight. But if you want to maybe do something really late, I might be up for dinner. Call me at this line.” Sam lost track of the garble of numbers his friend spat out before the voicemail cut him off. He thought about playing the message back, but he knew the gist without hearing it a second time.
In the middle of something. Chris had met someone somewhere between the front door of his corner apartment and the twenty minute drive to Prism. He was in the middle of his new friend, getting to know him in the biblical sense.
I might be up for dinner. Can't sleep over, but I intend to make the most of tonight. Will be hungry later from all of the energy expended.
The rest of the call may as well be sorry my personal life's more exciting than yours, better luck next time, getting me to spare you a few minutes.
It was just as well. Chris Tanner spent half his time being too involved in his myriad projects to even give a call back and the other half rescheduling his constant flow of admirers. Sam knew if he had convinced him to hang out, they would've spent the bulk of the night politely telling any guy who approached the table neither of them was available. Not that he'd been getting much interest since his last attempt at a relationship had dissolved. That little fact was probably why he was itching to get out of the house. All work and no play made Sam a dull boy. A dull, horny, cranky boy who needed attention from warm hands, a willing mouth and a tight ass, no complications on the side.
A sharp laugh drew his attention. Two boys crossed in front of his car dressed in skin hugging jeans and sleeveless t-shirts snug enough to show off every contour of their gym hardened bodies. They were boys. Neither of them looked old enough to even get into the club, let alone know what to do if a man approached them. One of them tossed a smile in his direction before they continued around the building's faded red brick corner and into the club.
What the hell was he doing? Cruising the club on a Sunday night, just as he had ten years ago, when he was finally old enough to get in without using that laughable fake ID. There had to be a point where a man his age could just dig out the black book, call an old number and say, “Hey, I got an itch and you scratch pretty well, from what I remember.” And yet, there was no one Sam could think of who he'd mind getting back into bed with, even if it was just for a convenient fuck. All of his exes seemed to come with reams of drama he had to shake off whenever he left their beds. Getting involved again — even temporarily — would involve the kind of energy he wasn't up to expending just to get his rocks off. Getting drunk and searching the club for an easy lay was the only game plan now that Chris had ditched him. He just wished he didn't feel like a lonely old man doing it.
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