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Teaser for “52 Weeks”

June 25, 2012
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A few months back, Andrej Pejic came to our attention. Beautifully androgynous, Andrej is gorgeous dressed as a man or a woman. As S.L. and I began tossing ideas back and forth about androgyny and genderqueerness and BDSM, an idea formed. A man who is so androgynous, with a little effort, he can easily pass for a woman. This man likes to go out to bars on weekends and cocktease, get men to pay for his drinks, and then go home without having spent a dime for a good night out. This man identifies as straight.

And then, one night, he cockteases the wrong guy and his whole life changes. How he views his life, his goals, his sexual identity, and his orientation. This novel contains is mostly D/s with a hint of the other aspects of BDSM people know, but it’s mainly how Rhys, the ‘wrong guy’, helps to shape and focus Aspen’s life after their initial interaction in the bar.

So! Here’s a little teaser for it!

Aspen danced his way across the floor of Pacha’s main level, reveling in the thump of the electronica and the occasional hand on his hip as he smiled and teased his way toward the bar. It always began with a trip around the floor, as if he were casting a line into the sea of writhing bodies and using himself as bait. If he lingered a little next to a group of guys, it was almost inevitable that one of them would work up the balls to follow him, and he was an expert. A sultry look through his blond hair, a sway of hips, and a girlish laugh and twirl were usually all it took, and tonight was no exception.

He’d already made two rounds, and that had netted him three free drinks. Not a bad start, but they were appetizers, college boys looking for an easy lay. He wasn’t about to give them the satisfaction, and after suckering them into a drink or two, he would usually cut them loose. Sexual frustration was a bitch, and he wasn’t a complete asshole. At least, not tonight. Tonight felt good, and he was just enjoying the thrill of the hunt. Another round of the dancefloor, and he snatched an empty seat at the bar. He wasn’t joined immediately, but he didn’t mind. It meant a little rest, and he bent down for a moment, leaning over his crossed knees to adjust the strap on one of his heels. Definitely the best shoe purchase he had made in a while. His feet would hurt, of course, but not as badly, and damn if the heels didn’t make his legs look amazing.

“Nice heels!”

The compliment nearly had to be yelled for Aspen to hear it, but it made him look up through his hair. Score. He took in the sight of the man as he straightened, pushing a lock of his hair back behind his ear with a feminine flourish. Tall, well-dressed in a button-down shirt, the color a deep green that made the man’s dark hair and eyes look amazing. Aspen smiled up at him, pitching his voice a bit higher than normal as he shouted back. “Thanks! Brand new. You wouldn’t believe the deal I got on them.”

“They make your legs look brilliant,” the man said, and now Aspen could hear a distinctly British accent. It made his heart race just a little. No matter how many foreign accents he had heard in New York City, the British ones just made him think of high society and big money. He just knew Pacha was the right choice tonight; this guy was definitely the catch of the evening.

He fluttered his eyelashes and gestured effeminately, almost swiping at him. “Aww. Stop it! You’re making me blush.”

The man stepped closer, just like Aspen wanted. “Can I buy you a drink, love?”

“That’d be great! Thank you,” Aspen said, flicking his hair back over his shoulder with a practiced snap of his neck. The man leaned into the bar, steadying himself with a hand on Aspen’s shoulder. The hand wasn’t clammy like most guys’ were. He usually made the guys sweat, made them so nervous about being around a hot chick that they overcompensated with their wallets, but this guy was calm and collected. Aspen loved a challenge.

“I’ll have a Clear Creek Stinger and…” The man trailed off, gesturing to Aspen.

“A Yellow Bird with Bacardi for me, please,” Aspen chimed in, leaning against the bar just so, his arms propping up his fake bust in a way that would look natural and alluring. He caught the Brit staring and fought not to smirk. The bartender gave him a look, but it was gone in a flash, and he just smiled. Yes, he’d had a few drinks so far, but with all the dancing, he was more than ready for another round. He would have asked for a stronger drink, but this was an investment. Something more substantial could wait for the second drink. He’d make sure there was a second from this guy.

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