Michael

“No?” One hand sliding up Michael’s chest, Jared laughed. “Cute,” he said, thinking Michael was joking.

Michael shot a pointed look at the hand on his chest and tried to walk away, but Jared grabbed his shoulder and pushed him back against the wall, smiling because Michael was here for him. Obviously.

Michael didn’t struggle, but he didn’t have to, the look on his face enough to burst the alcoholic bubble Jared had been floating in. Shit. What was he doing? “Sorry.” He snatched his hand off Michael and buried it in his pocket, hiding the evidence. “Wasn’t thinking.”

“Yeah, you were.” Michael walked away from him, lost himself in the bodies clogging the main floor of the frat house.

Okay, he’d screwed up. Michael wasn’t into drunken asswipes pawing at him. Noted. Jared pushed his way through the crowd and out the front door, to see Michael heading back towards campus. He launched himself down the steps and onto the sidewalk, chasing after Michael.

Jared slowed to a walk at Michael’s side, and Michael ignored him. Okay, the guy was pissed. Jared could work with pissed. “You want me.”

Michael shrugged. “Not tonight, I don’t.”

A grin sliding across his face, Jared strolled at Michael’s side. “Tomorrow night?”

Aimer at Amazon

Second Time Around

I self-published my first book in 2014. I thought it was good. I was wrong.

I didn’t know it then, but I’d broken just about every writing rule there is.

To anyone who purchased Fireworks, my apologies. And thank you. Thank you for taking a chance on a newbie author and for giving me hope that maybe, just maybe, I could do this.

Five years on, and I’ve learned a bit. Not everything, not by a long shot, but enough to take a stab at fixing the mistakes I made the first time around.

So, here it is, the new and improved—I hope—version of that first attempt: Daniel Mine.

Aimer at Amazon

Mystery Men

Ahead of the curve —Two men tie the knot in 1957.

The ONE Archives Foundation in Los Angeles, a non-profit dedicated to preserving LGBTQ history, is on a mission. Having stumbled across a series of wedding pictures taken in the 1950’s, they want to find the grooms or, at least, find out who they are. 

So far, all they know is that the pictures were dropped off at a drugstore in Philadelphia to be developed and that the owner of the drugstore, deeming them inappropriate, refused to return them to the unknown grooms.

To that end, they’ve created a website, OurOneStory.com to help find these men. Not an easy task as the couple must be in their 80’s or 90’s now. The historians have become sleuths, hoping that if they spread these pictures around someone will recognize either the grooms or their guests.

Incredible to think that this little chunk of history has survived, that these pictures have somehow made it from Philadelphia to Los Angeles, and that they weren’t destroyed by the offended drugstore owner.

Also, in your face to all those morons who picket and scream and fight against school boards who want to “normalize” homosexuality. The cretins who rant about the corrupting influence of social media, who insist the liberal agenda is destroying family values and “turning” good kids gay.

These two men knew who they were, and who they wanted, and I’m pretty sure they didn’t learn that in school, or see it in an Instagram post.

Captured in black and white, a celebration, a moment in time, and a silent witness to the fact that same-sex attraction is, and always has been, one of the threads that inform the tapestry of human sexuality.

Sorry, stepping down from my soapbox now. For more wedding pictures, please check out this link.

Aimer at Amazon

Ever There

A whisper at your shoulder,
A cloud in your smile.

A dark companion,
Silent at your side.

How do you unknow
What you know?

How do you not hear
The stealthy stalker at your back?

How do you laugh, sing, love
With this shadow on your mind?

How do you dance with death?

LIVE.

Sucked In

I can walk by tourist crap without a second glance. Fridge magnets, plastic fans, and I Heart T-shirts don’t do it for me.

But, give me a story. Throw in a bit of history, polish it with the patina of time and romance. Tell me something is rare and I’m reaching for my credit card.

Sucked in.

There’s a small vineyard in Mazzorbo, Venice.

Don’t go.

The sales presentation is flawless; crisp white linen and crystal wine glasses. The story is exquisite; a grape thought lost to history, a wine the Venetian Doges drank. The wine bottles themselves are works of art, the glass made in Murano, and the label wrought from paper-thin gold leaf.

Did I mention the bottles are numbered by hand, and the wine comes in the cutest little wood crate?

Was I aware I was being taken in by a fantastic sales pitch? Vaguely, but— Wine the Doges drank!

Was the wine even good?

You’re asking the wrong person. I don’t like wine.

Suckered in. Hook, line, and sinker 🙂

Aimer at Amazon

Parfum de Bear?

That new car scent, it makes you smile just sliding into your seat. Unfortunately, it’s a temporary pleasure.

For Lisa Watts, and her new brand-new 2019 Santa Fe, that new car scent was over almost before it began.

Her sons came home to find three doors on their mother’s car hanging open. Inside the car, paw prints, and a god-awful stench.

The culprit?

A black bear.

Caught on surveillance tape, the bear can be seen opening the car door with his mouth.

Looking for food, the bear broke into a number of cars, leaving a rather ripe calling card behind him.

Lisa mourns the loss of her car smell, but she’s not hating on the bear. “He’s the sweetest little bear. It’s pretty hard to stay mad at him when he looks so cute.”

I think I’d be mad 🙂

Aimer at Amazon