Uniform Appeal excerpt: Joshua regrets confiding in Schwartz
I have a short story in the newly released Uniform Appeal anthology. It's a prequel to a story set in 1932 that I hope to finish up in the next few weeks, so if you want a sneak peak at young Joshua, this is your chance. :)
Jean-Paul by Ryan Loveless
Paris, August 1918: Young US Army Lieutenant Joshua Pascal is preparing to lead his platoon in their first engagement against the Germans. Despite his training, Joshua can't help questioning his qualifications to command older and more experienced men—-especially when his second-in-command discovers he's still a virgin and drags him to a brothel to "make a man of him." It’s not until he meets a special young man by chance that Joshua discovers the courage to be the leader he needs to be.
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/stor...
Here's an excerpt:
Paris, France. August, 1918
ON THE second floor of a quaint house in a small, frilly bedroom that had glass canaries sitting on the windowsill, I lay on my back on a pink quilt staring up at the painted swirls in the ceiling. A Parisian whore was on top of me. Every so often her auburn hair brushed my cheek. Her name was Adalene, and she spoke fluent English, which was handy because I sure as fuck didn‘t speak French. The fact that I didn‘t want to be there was obvious, but she carried on with her encouragements, both in voice and in motion as she petted my arms and wrapped her legs around my back. My dick remained disinterested.
The dreadful thing for both of us was that I couldn‘t leave until I‘d put on a good show for Schwartz, who was three feet away in another bed fucking his whore with full-throated grunts and jackrabbiting thrusts that knocked the poor woman against the headboard. Her name was Bernetta. I‘d insisted on introductions and attempted to chat about the weather when we‘d first arrived. Isaac, confusing my stalling tactics for ―upper class pish posh,‖ had shoved me toward Adalene, announced I was a virgin heading into battle, and would she mind doing something about that. Then he grabbed Bernetta with the opposite proclamation that he was as experienced as a man could be.
"Fuck, viva la France, eh Joshua?" Isaac said. I wasn‘t sure if I wanted to be included in his jubilation at that particular moment. His bed was gunning for an escape through breaking down the wall. Bernetta hung onto him for dear life as she corrected his pronunciation.
If I found out who told Isaac I‘d never been "deflowered",that person would die a slow death on the end of my bayonet. We had spent the last three months learning how to be soldiers, both in the States and then in France. Now we were polished, ranked (lieutenant for me, sergeant first class for Schwartz), and ready to face the Germans. As such, we had been granted an eighteen hour leave from our training camp. On the train to Paris, Isaac had cornered me to ask if the rumors of my virginity were true. I could have pulled rank and knocked him down for insubordination, but he derailed me by saying that as my second in command it was his duty to make sure the troops in our platoon "were taking orders from a man."
What could I say to that?
I should have thrown him off the damn train, because next thing I knew he was leading me up a Parisian street with the Eiffel Tower looming over us like a giant phallus and knocking on the door of a well-kept house with a row of tulips out front. The sun was still yawning from her sleep, and here we were pounding on a brothel door like a pair of salacious louts.
The ironic thing about the Eiffel Tower, which I could see from the window as I continued to feign interest on the bed, was that a phallus, or rather, someone with one, was what I wanted.
***
I haven't been able to read all of the other stories in there yet, but the few I have read have been great. It's exciting to be part of an anthology with both established and brand new writers. :)
Jean-Paul by Ryan Loveless
Paris, August 1918: Young US Army Lieutenant Joshua Pascal is preparing to lead his platoon in their first engagement against the Germans. Despite his training, Joshua can't help questioning his qualifications to command older and more experienced men—-especially when his second-in-command discovers he's still a virgin and drags him to a brothel to "make a man of him." It’s not until he meets a special young man by chance that Joshua discovers the courage to be the leader he needs to be.
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/stor...
Here's an excerpt:
Paris, France. August, 1918
ON THE second floor of a quaint house in a small, frilly bedroom that had glass canaries sitting on the windowsill, I lay on my back on a pink quilt staring up at the painted swirls in the ceiling. A Parisian whore was on top of me. Every so often her auburn hair brushed my cheek. Her name was Adalene, and she spoke fluent English, which was handy because I sure as fuck didn‘t speak French. The fact that I didn‘t want to be there was obvious, but she carried on with her encouragements, both in voice and in motion as she petted my arms and wrapped her legs around my back. My dick remained disinterested.
The dreadful thing for both of us was that I couldn‘t leave until I‘d put on a good show for Schwartz, who was three feet away in another bed fucking his whore with full-throated grunts and jackrabbiting thrusts that knocked the poor woman against the headboard. Her name was Bernetta. I‘d insisted on introductions and attempted to chat about the weather when we‘d first arrived. Isaac, confusing my stalling tactics for ―upper class pish posh,‖ had shoved me toward Adalene, announced I was a virgin heading into battle, and would she mind doing something about that. Then he grabbed Bernetta with the opposite proclamation that he was as experienced as a man could be.
"Fuck, viva la France, eh Joshua?" Isaac said. I wasn‘t sure if I wanted to be included in his jubilation at that particular moment. His bed was gunning for an escape through breaking down the wall. Bernetta hung onto him for dear life as she corrected his pronunciation.
If I found out who told Isaac I‘d never been "deflowered",that person would die a slow death on the end of my bayonet. We had spent the last three months learning how to be soldiers, both in the States and then in France. Now we were polished, ranked (lieutenant for me, sergeant first class for Schwartz), and ready to face the Germans. As such, we had been granted an eighteen hour leave from our training camp. On the train to Paris, Isaac had cornered me to ask if the rumors of my virginity were true. I could have pulled rank and knocked him down for insubordination, but he derailed me by saying that as my second in command it was his duty to make sure the troops in our platoon "were taking orders from a man."
What could I say to that?
I should have thrown him off the damn train, because next thing I knew he was leading me up a Parisian street with the Eiffel Tower looming over us like a giant phallus and knocking on the door of a well-kept house with a row of tulips out front. The sun was still yawning from her sleep, and here we were pounding on a brothel door like a pair of salacious louts.
The ironic thing about the Eiffel Tower, which I could see from the window as I continued to feign interest on the bed, was that a phallus, or rather, someone with one, was what I wanted.
***
I haven't been able to read all of the other stories in there yet, but the few I have read have been great. It's exciting to be part of an anthology with both established and brand new writers. :)
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