Presently I am inspired to write a new story. I won't go into detail, but I will mention that this will be out very soon, and it will precede another story in the same series. Here is a sneak preview in the rough. Hope you enjoy it.
Miguel casually tossed a ring of keys on the nearest table by the door and strolled to the desk on the opposite wall. He unloaded his booty on the paper blotter and reached for the mini-fridge. "Have a seat," he said. "Get comfy."
Copyright 2009 Leigh Ellwood
Seeing as Miguel had obviously rented the inn's economy suite, Red had no choice but to get "comfy" on the edge of the queen-sized bed. The mattress yielded easily to his weight, forcing Red to jostle for balance as he sank into the softness.
Miguel chuckled. "You are funny, Red. You know that?"
"Unintentionally," Red countered. "That's not always a good thing."
"It's cute. I like you." Miguel poured two shots of tequila, then sliced the lime into wedges with a jackknife from his pocket. "You could use something strong, too, I can tell."
Like an elephant tranquilizer? Red kept silent. He didn't want to come across as a comedian. True, humor often proved a strong shield during times of anxiety, but one false wrong might send the night into a disappointing tailspin.
And what did he expect to happen anyway? Sex? Teenaged style necking at the most? The amorous electric charge filled the room - Red could feel the affect of Miguel's musk on his own skin. His cock stirred slowly to life, his nipples ached under his shirt...but he held fast to the bed comforter. Whatever was destined to happen tonight, he decided Miguel would take the lead. The young man exuded confidence, a casual nonchalance that Red envied. He needed to learn that.
Miguel grabbed the salt shaker and turned. "Hold out your hand," he ordered in a gentle voice. "No, like this." Miguel demonstrated a loose fist, thumb curled upward. Red obeyed.
Miguel sprinkled some salt along the rim of Red's fist. "You have to have done this some time in your life."
As opposed to what? Red had to admit, though, Miguel could read him well. Truly he must look the part of the shy virgin unsure if he was being seduced. Of course, Red was no virgin in the traditional sense - he and Charlene had enjoyed a strong sex life until these old desires resurfaced - yet he had never acted on the alternatives now apparently open to him.
With Red's knuckles now properly seasoned, Miguel took one of the hotel glasses, a fourth of the way filled with Cuervo. "Lick it." He bent down to tongue away the salt. Red thought his heart might burst.
Finishing with an exaggerated smack, Miguel said, "Slam it," and down the shot.
Red realized what came next. No mistaking Miguel's grin, either.
What gets sucked? You'll see. ;)