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St. Boniface Hook Up | Rick R. Reed 2
YOU’D think that in Chicago, when it’s getting close to Halloween, the weather would be chilly, the air crisp and redolent with the smell of decaying leaves. You might imagine a harvest moon rising above Lake Michigan, brilliant orange. You’d be wrong about the chill, though, because the Halloween night I’m remembering was hot, Indian Summer’s last dying breath. Since this was a Saturday night, with the heated air lying about its age, many revelers had come out to the strip of gay bars lining Clark Street. I was one of them, taking advantage of the high temps to costume myself in what I hoped would be appropriately fetching attire for my visit to the Eagle. I wore camouflage pants, combat boots, and a leather bar vest with nothing underneath. I timed my arrival with the witching hour and was not surprised to find there was no place to park. But I had my secret spot for nights like this. Just down the street from the Eagle is St. Boniface Cemetery. The resting place for the dead has been standing in its location at the corners of Clark and Lawrence for close to one hundred and fifty years. Its northern border has a tiny side street alongside it. Technically, parking is not allowed here, and there are signs warning about it, but I’ve been scoffing at the law for years without incident.
St. Boniface Hook Up | Rick R. Reed 3 After locking my car, I made the short walk that would bring me to the Eagle, not knowing how my evening was destined to end. If I had known that, I might have taken a long, lingering glance at the cemetery behind me. The Eagle was crowded. You could hardly move through the bear and biker types drinking beer and pitching their voices an octave lower. I wasn’t there that night to meet any friends, nor was I there to socialize, or even imbibe. I was, as Karen Kamon sang in Flashdance, on a manhunt. Cruising for sex usually doesn’t work. It’s a Murphy’s Law that when I am actually out with the decided purpose of getting laid, it rarely happens. No, usually the times when I get lucky are when I’m out with a group of friends or, even better, a straight female friend. It’s like the universe knows when I’m trying too hard and conspires against me. Tonight was no different. I downed several bottles of Bud, leaned against a wall, sat at the bar looking interested in what was going on around me, and even checked out the orgiastic action in the backroom. There, I almost had a winner, a gorgeous redhead appropriately named Woody, who wanted to bend me over in front of all and sundry and have his way with me. I’m much too shy for that and, with reluctance, I had to send poor Woody and his woody away to find someone else more in the mood for public displays of affection. It took him less than a minute. By the time two a.m. rolled around, I couldn’t prowl anymore and I simply was not desperate enough to avail myself of the willing orifices awaiting me in the back room,
St. Boniface Hook Up | Rick R. Reed 4 so I headed out. That late, Clark Street had turned quieter, although cabs were still dropping guys off in front of the Eagle. I was resigned to going home alone and tried to look forward to the clean sheets I had optimistically put on the bed hours before. I saw him just as I approached my car. He was standing on the corner and I could tell he was hot: tall, with a lean body, and dark hair. He wore a white T-shirt, Levis, and a Cubs baseball cap. As I got closer, the streetlight revealed a couple days’ growth of beard, full lips, and what I hoped were blue eyes. He smiled. I smiled. We did the turning around and looking at each other again as I passed him. I had the door open when he wandered over to my side of the street. He didn’t say a word, just stood a few feet away, near an old, rusting, white pickup. I closed the car door, locked it again, and approached him. He reached out a hand and I expected him to grab my crotch, but he placed it on the back of my neck and pulled me toward him for a surprisingly soulful kiss. Before long, the two of us were near the wall of the cemetery, abandoned to what Miss Mary Chapin Carpenter refers to as “passionate kisses.” Corporeal fires ignited, the two of us sought a place that would offer us more privacy. My new friend led me to the beat-up, white pickup parked just ahead. I asked if it was his. He just smiled, opened the door, and scurried inside. Kisses resumed and went from lips to nether regions. The crisp October air, the eerie light,
St. Boniface Hook Up | Rick R. Reed 5 the thrill of getting caught, and a hot man all conspired to create a night of romance I won’t ever forget. Our union climaxed with him lying across the seat of the truck with his legs on my shoulders; my camouflage pants around my ankles, my leather vest tossed on the ground. After it was over and the two of us stumbled back to my car, we went our separate ways. As soon as I got in, I thought that this was one man I didn’t want to let go. I could at least offer him a ride. But he was gone. There was nowhere for him to go, really, but up the dead end street… and there wasn’t time enough for him to traverse its short course. He was gone. Vanished, it seemed, into thin air. I stared at the cemetery walls in my rear view mirror as I drove away, a sense of longing and of horror warring within me. It seemed the temperature had dropped at least thirty degrees.
St. Boniface Hook Up | Rick R. Reed 6 Find all of Rick R. Reed’s titles here. Save 15% on any of Rick R. Reed’s titles by entering the code Reed264 at checkout.
RICK R. REED is the author of dozens of published novels, novellas, and short stories. He is a two-time EPIC eBook Award winner (for Orientation and The Blue Moon Cafe). His work has caught the attention of Unzipped magazine, “The Stephen King of gay horror”; Lambda Literary, “A writer that doesn’t disappoint”; and Dark Scribe magazine, “an established brand--perhaps the most reliable contemporary author for thrillers that cross over between the gay fiction market and speculative fiction.” He lives in Seattle. Visit him at http://www.rickrreed.com or at his blog at http://rickrreedreality.blogspot.com/. You can contact Rick at
[email protected], Twitter: http://twitter.com/ RickRReed, and Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/ rickrreed.
St. Boniface Hook Up ©Copyright Rick R. Reed, 2011 Published by Dreamspinner Press 382 NE 191st Street #88329 Miami, FL 33179-3899 USA http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. Cover Art by Anne Cain
[email protected] Cover Design by Mara McKennen This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 382 NE 191st Street #88329 Miami, FL 33179-3899 USA http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ Released in the United States of America October 2011 eBook Edition
