a scene from The Children of Project Ice Worm

These are chapters from The Children of Project Iceworm (tentative publishing date of summer of 2018) which is the sequel to The Roswell Discrepancy (coming out June 2017).  Both are the adventures of my husband, Angus Mac Innes-Reese, our crew, and myself as we combat international bad folks then expose and debunk government lies all in service of Her Majesty - all the while enjoying some very hot sex. 

This scene is set in Tel Aviv, where Angus and I are to met up with my best friend from Chicago, LaTonya "Toni" Hoffman.  Angus and I have been married now for over five years and I am about to become ordained as a rabbi.  Angus is a peer of the realm, a member of the House of Lords, venture capitalist, and a founder of a nonprofit that helps those who need artificial limbs. I am finishing my studies and thinking about doing more, but Angus doesn't know it yet. 

Typically, Angus and I are exclusive.  He's not only my husband but also my best friend.  But something magical is going on here.  I just don't know what.  Or maybe her hot body and some unresolved feelings are just more temptations than us two boys can handle?

New Book Rising

Old Musing # 67

You know your life sucks when your morning hard on makes you depressed. 

TORCHWOOD FANFICTION – Ianto and the New Year’s Eve Snowstorm

I once kneeled in shaking thrill

I chase the memory of it still, of every chill

Chided by that silence of a hush sublime

Blind to the purpose of the brute divine

But you were mine

Staring in the blackness at some distant star

The thrill of knowing how alone we are, unknown we are

To the wild and to the both of us

I confessed the longing I was dreaming of

Some better love, but there's no better love

Beckons above me and there's no better love

That ever has loved me, there's no better love

Darling, feel better love

Feel better love

-    “Better Love” as sung by Hozier

I was lucky to make it back to my flat.  Between revelers and the 35cm of snow that had already fallen, streets were blocked and buses were running an hour behind schedule.  I caught Mrs. Fletcher before she closed up to get a few provisions, thinking I wouldn’t get out for at least a day.  “It’s a right mess, eh Mr. Jones?” she was an always cheery middle-aged lady.  “And they said we’re supposed to get at least another 40 cm more !”  She finished bagging my juice, eggs, shredded cheese, bacon, steak cutlets, and pinto beans and said, “A handsome man like you!  Have some cutie to kiss at the stroke of midnight?”

“Leave him alone, Mother.  Stop being so nosy!” joking nagged her husband as he came in from the back room.  “You’re always trying to couple people.”

“It’s okay, really,” I said trying to at least grin.  “I’ve been working hard since Christmas.  I’m looking forward to some peace and rest for a day or two.”

Mr. Fletcher nodded then thought for a moment before stopping me from turning around.  “Mr. Jones?”  He motioned me back to the counter.  “Hold on a moment.  I think I have something to take the chill off ya.”  He got a ladder and climbed up to a top shelf then came down with a dark green cylinder.  “This ought to make for a nice toast.  Before I married this wonderful woman, I lean on it a time or two.”  He put the Glenlivet in a decorative bag with “Happy New Year!” on the outside and handed it to me.  “You’re a good customer and, If I know people, and I do, you’re a good man.  I’m certain someone right will come along for ya very soon.”  He smiled at me kindly, trying to loan me some of his confidence.  “Enjoy your holiday, even if it is alone.”  He almost made my current misery seem heroic.

Fucking in the Rain by Candlelight

Normally, if I give my husband a good, mind-bending blowjob before telling him difficult news, it eases things and I’m likely to get my way – you know, a spoon full of sugar and all that.  However, I didn’t get a chance this time.  Here I was lying, rather lusciously I might add, in a king size bed, Egyptian cotton sheets carefully framing my tight Bruce Lee fit body, as inviting as any £6000 an hour courtesan could.  But instead of coming into the bedroom of our London townhouse, eyes popping from hunger (we had just been apart for three straight months while I was finishing rabbinical school in America) and mouth-watering (fresh pretzels, his favorite food, steaming on the nightstand next to the bed), he entered in with eyes red from anger and a mouth twisted in disappointment.  He dropped the half-completed application for a doctorate program at my feet so hard, I thought they’d sheared off my toes.  “I’ll be at my club,” he declared before storming out. 

Prayers

Desmond “Deetz” Mac Innes was starting his morning prayers and wondered if Hashem, one of the many names Jews used to describe the supreme being, would mind that he was naked while engaging in such a revertant activity.  I suppose it’s nothing She or He hasn’t seen before, Deetz said to himself.  In his rather bare private room in Churton Place, the London townhouse he shared with his husband and several members of their MI-6 special sections spy crew, Deetz lost himself in many activities – from yoga to Tai Chi, Zen Buddhist meditation to Druidic cleansing rituals, and from reading Spinoza to contemplating the words of Hillel.  After clipping to his tightly curled dark brown hair the beige yarmulke knitted by his younger sister for his 29^th birthday, he had to first rub the front of his scalp where Angus had pulled just a little too hard while fucking him last night – sometimes newbies just lose control of the situation and things get out of hand.   Deetz would talk to him about it later.  For now, the drafty air foretelling of an early winter snow storm made him reconsider nudity and he grabbed the pair of pants and tee shirt lazily draped over an old stuffed chair that would have been less out of place in someone’s 15^th Century castle.