Fair To Middling - Part Five of The Great Dane Saga by Alp Mortal
Categories: Contemporary Romance | Gay
Word Count: 36,550 Heat Rating: 3 Price: $ .99 Available here:
|
Meet Dane Danois - the most fabulous gay man in the Universe ... in his own, never humble opinion. A man driven to live life to the full, and if there's a chance that he can help a friend along the way, he will. A sharp-suited, sharp-witted, sometimes reckless, sometimes dangerous, always intoxicating agent of change ... and loyal to a T.
In Fair To Middling, we find Dane in North America, chewing them up and spitting them out as usual. In Toronto, he meets Warren, a survivor of domestic abuse, and through him, Alex, also a survivor. In trying to help Alex to heal, Dane takes him to Jersey and then to London, meeting for the first time Anton de Chevalier, the Harley Street therapist. In standing up for Warren, Dane exhibits a side of his nature that we rarely see, but as Gran always said, you have to stand up for yourself and, in particular, those unable to stand up for themselves. The Great Dane Saga charts the life of Dane Danois, and his many and varied friendships and relationships over the course of a 40 year period. The six parts of the story do not run in strict chronological order. That is because the story was never going to be a saga, but after I finished part one, it was clear that Dane was not going to shut up until I had written down everything he wanted to say - he was a poor narrator. Dane is neither wholly good nor wholly bad - he is just Dane - perfect in his imperfections. The six parts of The Great Dane Saga originally appeared in 2013, in single volumes, and then in the compendium titled All The World. All volumes were removed from the shelf in 2014 for re-editing. The six individual volumes, and the compendium, will re-appear during the course of 2016. I am always very happy to receive your feedback. If you wish to contact me directly, please email me at: [email protected]. Visit the website, www.alpmortal.weebly.com, for updates on the next gay romantic story or crime thriller which I am working on. Thank you, Alp Mortal |
PART ONE
Chapter One – Pretend You’re French
“I can never do those,” I said.
“Sorry?”
“Sudoku; I can’t get the hang of it.”
“I’m addicted ...”
I’m always the one to start the conversation, and it doesn’t matter where or when or who; I just can’t help it. I guess I have a need to interact; it’s what makes life interesting.
“Sorry; I disturbed your concentration.”
“No; I was thinking about something else actually.”
“Would you like another coffee?”
“Uhm, yeah; thanks - a cappuccino, please.”
I scampered to the counter and ordered his froth and a double espresso for myself.
“There you go!” I said as I put the cup down.
“Thanks; I’m Steve.”
“Dane.”
“English?”
“From Jersey actually, as in the island in the English Channel; not the new one you stole from us.”
He chuckled.
“Near Dover?”
“Uhm, no; that would be the continent of Europe; a small island off the coast of France; part of the British Isles, and a tax haven for your bloated banking bastards.”
“Ah; that Jersey.”
“Where are you from?”
“Santa Barbara-”
“Oh God! Are you the guy who owns the tantric retreat where my parents go and hang out for like, literally, years at a time?”
“Uhm, no. I don’t live there now; I live here in NYC.”
“What do you do?”
“I audit reinsurance commutations.”
“Jesus; that’s two four-syllable words!”
He laughed.
“You?”
“Software configuration specialist and project manager.”
“You got more syllables!”
“It’s a gift ...”
He laughed again. Fuck; a Yank who gets my humour!
“Who are you working for?” he asked.
“Uhm, oh shit; who is it? Wirefire Inc.”
“So you know what a commutation is then?”
“I so do; I configure the software ...”
He raised both eyebrows.
“... You’re impressed; I can tell.”
“Actually, yes. They say it’s the most complex and difficult piece of software to configure outside of NASA.”
“Worked there once; terribly clean but the uniform sucked.”
He laughed heartily.
“You configure that software but you can’t do Sudoku?”
“I know; it’s the gay gene. It only allows so much logic to exist in my body at any one time.”
“What’s the rest?”
“Style!”
“You have that.”
“Oh, thanks! Well; you’re not too bad in that department yourself. But if you can do Sudoku then you probably can’t read a map or change a fuse.”
“Working on your limited logic processing theory, that would follow.”
“So, can you?”
“Yes, I am ...”
Mental note: ‘Get the guy to disclose’ method 767 worked again and only one coffee required.
“What were you thinking about?”
“When?”
“While you weren’t doing your puzzle.”
“Oh; work stuff.”
“What’s his name?”
He swallowed and rolled his tongue around a bit before he replied, “Brian.”
“First date; tricky seventh date; third-month horizon looming?”
“I haven’t asked him out yet.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not blessed with your … confidence.”
“Oh, don’t mind me; I’m just a gabby shit.”
“I doubt that.”
“So; practise on me.”
“What?”
“Pretend I’m Brian and ask me out.”
“You’re kidding!”
“No; this is important. He could be the one.”
“Okay.”
“Where do you see him?”
“At the gym.”
“Right; I don’t know what that looks like but I’m guessing it’s where gay guys go to ogle each other’s hot and sweaty arses and sneak a peek in the shower ... I’m just trying to get a picture.”
“How do you keep fit?”
“Dance.”
“It’s working!”
“Thanks. So; I’m Brian, standing by the ...?”
“Bench press.”
“Bench press ... and you walk by and ...”
“Hey, Brian-”
“Hey, Steve!” I replied, imitating a perfect New Jersey accent.
“That’s spot on!”
“I’ve dated in all boroughs; so?”
“Do you need someone to spot for ya?”
“Sure.”
“Then he gets in position and I stand behind his head with my hands under the bar to ensure he doesn’t drop it on his chest.”
“And?”
“I get stuck there.”
“Uhm ... you could try, ‘Hey, Steve; are those shoes the new silicone-filled training shoes that prevent joint pain?’ ... or ‘I’m thinking of switching to yoga, what do ya think?’ ... or ‘Do you wanna go out for a drink tomorrow night?’...”
“I could do that.”
“Go on then.”
“Brian; do you wanna go out for a drink tomorrow night?”
“No thanks, Steve; I’m not into guys - no offence. Ask that guy over there; I’m pretty sure he is.”
“How do you know he’ll say that?”
“I don’t, but why do you want to risk it when you could ask me and I am?”
“Do you want to go out for a drink tomorrow night?”
“Love to! Thanks; that’s really sweet - Jordan’s at eight.”
Mental note: ‘Get first date’ method 871 worked again, combined with ‘Get the guy to disclose’ method 767 and I think we’ve got a winner.
“Here’s my number in case you need to cancel.”
“I won’t unless someone needs my lungs and heart and I’m in the operating room,” I replied.
“Then you’d be dead.”
“It’s the only reason I’d cancel.”
“Ah, right; Jordan’s at eight.”
“Here’s my number in case you need to cancel.”
“I won’t.”
“Unless Brian turns out to be gay.”
“No matter; you’re funnier and better dressed.”
“Excellent; no pre-date required.”
“A what?”
“Pre-date; where we work out if we look good together.”
“Do we look good together?”
“Everyone who’s walked past thinks so.”
“You noticed all that?”
“It’s the gay gene; limited logic processing but can pick up a vibe at two hundred paces ...”
He took a sip of froth.
“... I should also say that I never fuck on a first date.”
He spluttered.
“Thanks for the information.”
“Best to say upfront then you won’t need to douche and you can concentrate on your hair ... you have gorgeous hair, like silk ... I can’t wait to run my fingers through it.”
“You may not get the chance.”
I looked at him through half-closed eyes and pursed my lips, contemplating him for a moment.
“Point taken. Right; tomorrow then.”
“Don’t be late.”
“Any more instructions?”
“No, relax; you did it ... and Brian can fuck himself.”
“He might not be gay.”
“Everyone who goes to the gym is gay.”
“Where do all the straight guys go?”
“Yoga; it’s the new gym.”
“I have to go; see you tomorrow.”
“You may kiss me on the cheek ...”
“What? Here and now?”
“Pretend you’re French.”
“Don’t they kiss on both cheeks?”
“They do, but are you ready for both?”
“I think I can handle it.”
He got up from the table, and I did too. He kissed me lightly on one cheek and moved to kiss the other.
“You’re shamefully hard, you slut,” I whispered as I kissed his cheek.
He sniggered as he popped a peck on mine.
“Bye,” he said quietly.
“Bye, darling - love you! Don’t forget our threesome with Ramón tonight,” I said very loudly.
He escaped.
“Oh, it’s going to be so much fun! And Addy said I would be bored stiff; stiff, yes and bored, soon to be, hopefully!”
Chapter One – Pretend You’re French
“I can never do those,” I said.
“Sorry?”
“Sudoku; I can’t get the hang of it.”
“I’m addicted ...”
I’m always the one to start the conversation, and it doesn’t matter where or when or who; I just can’t help it. I guess I have a need to interact; it’s what makes life interesting.
“Sorry; I disturbed your concentration.”
“No; I was thinking about something else actually.”
“Would you like another coffee?”
“Uhm, yeah; thanks - a cappuccino, please.”
I scampered to the counter and ordered his froth and a double espresso for myself.
“There you go!” I said as I put the cup down.
“Thanks; I’m Steve.”
“Dane.”
“English?”
“From Jersey actually, as in the island in the English Channel; not the new one you stole from us.”
He chuckled.
“Near Dover?”
“Uhm, no; that would be the continent of Europe; a small island off the coast of France; part of the British Isles, and a tax haven for your bloated banking bastards.”
“Ah; that Jersey.”
“Where are you from?”
“Santa Barbara-”
“Oh God! Are you the guy who owns the tantric retreat where my parents go and hang out for like, literally, years at a time?”
“Uhm, no. I don’t live there now; I live here in NYC.”
“What do you do?”
“I audit reinsurance commutations.”
“Jesus; that’s two four-syllable words!”
He laughed.
“You?”
“Software configuration specialist and project manager.”
“You got more syllables!”
“It’s a gift ...”
He laughed again. Fuck; a Yank who gets my humour!
“Who are you working for?” he asked.
“Uhm, oh shit; who is it? Wirefire Inc.”
“So you know what a commutation is then?”
“I so do; I configure the software ...”
He raised both eyebrows.
“... You’re impressed; I can tell.”
“Actually, yes. They say it’s the most complex and difficult piece of software to configure outside of NASA.”
“Worked there once; terribly clean but the uniform sucked.”
He laughed heartily.
“You configure that software but you can’t do Sudoku?”
“I know; it’s the gay gene. It only allows so much logic to exist in my body at any one time.”
“What’s the rest?”
“Style!”
“You have that.”
“Oh, thanks! Well; you’re not too bad in that department yourself. But if you can do Sudoku then you probably can’t read a map or change a fuse.”
“Working on your limited logic processing theory, that would follow.”
“So, can you?”
“Yes, I am ...”
Mental note: ‘Get the guy to disclose’ method 767 worked again and only one coffee required.
“What were you thinking about?”
“When?”
“While you weren’t doing your puzzle.”
“Oh; work stuff.”
“What’s his name?”
He swallowed and rolled his tongue around a bit before he replied, “Brian.”
“First date; tricky seventh date; third-month horizon looming?”
“I haven’t asked him out yet.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not blessed with your … confidence.”
“Oh, don’t mind me; I’m just a gabby shit.”
“I doubt that.”
“So; practise on me.”
“What?”
“Pretend I’m Brian and ask me out.”
“You’re kidding!”
“No; this is important. He could be the one.”
“Okay.”
“Where do you see him?”
“At the gym.”
“Right; I don’t know what that looks like but I’m guessing it’s where gay guys go to ogle each other’s hot and sweaty arses and sneak a peek in the shower ... I’m just trying to get a picture.”
“How do you keep fit?”
“Dance.”
“It’s working!”
“Thanks. So; I’m Brian, standing by the ...?”
“Bench press.”
“Bench press ... and you walk by and ...”
“Hey, Brian-”
“Hey, Steve!” I replied, imitating a perfect New Jersey accent.
“That’s spot on!”
“I’ve dated in all boroughs; so?”
“Do you need someone to spot for ya?”
“Sure.”
“Then he gets in position and I stand behind his head with my hands under the bar to ensure he doesn’t drop it on his chest.”
“And?”
“I get stuck there.”
“Uhm ... you could try, ‘Hey, Steve; are those shoes the new silicone-filled training shoes that prevent joint pain?’ ... or ‘I’m thinking of switching to yoga, what do ya think?’ ... or ‘Do you wanna go out for a drink tomorrow night?’...”
“I could do that.”
“Go on then.”
“Brian; do you wanna go out for a drink tomorrow night?”
“No thanks, Steve; I’m not into guys - no offence. Ask that guy over there; I’m pretty sure he is.”
“How do you know he’ll say that?”
“I don’t, but why do you want to risk it when you could ask me and I am?”
“Do you want to go out for a drink tomorrow night?”
“Love to! Thanks; that’s really sweet - Jordan’s at eight.”
Mental note: ‘Get first date’ method 871 worked again, combined with ‘Get the guy to disclose’ method 767 and I think we’ve got a winner.
“Here’s my number in case you need to cancel.”
“I won’t unless someone needs my lungs and heart and I’m in the operating room,” I replied.
“Then you’d be dead.”
“It’s the only reason I’d cancel.”
“Ah, right; Jordan’s at eight.”
“Here’s my number in case you need to cancel.”
“I won’t.”
“Unless Brian turns out to be gay.”
“No matter; you’re funnier and better dressed.”
“Excellent; no pre-date required.”
“A what?”
“Pre-date; where we work out if we look good together.”
“Do we look good together?”
“Everyone who’s walked past thinks so.”
“You noticed all that?”
“It’s the gay gene; limited logic processing but can pick up a vibe at two hundred paces ...”
He took a sip of froth.
“... I should also say that I never fuck on a first date.”
He spluttered.
“Thanks for the information.”
“Best to say upfront then you won’t need to douche and you can concentrate on your hair ... you have gorgeous hair, like silk ... I can’t wait to run my fingers through it.”
“You may not get the chance.”
I looked at him through half-closed eyes and pursed my lips, contemplating him for a moment.
“Point taken. Right; tomorrow then.”
“Don’t be late.”
“Any more instructions?”
“No, relax; you did it ... and Brian can fuck himself.”
“He might not be gay.”
“Everyone who goes to the gym is gay.”
“Where do all the straight guys go?”
“Yoga; it’s the new gym.”
“I have to go; see you tomorrow.”
“You may kiss me on the cheek ...”
“What? Here and now?”
“Pretend you’re French.”
“Don’t they kiss on both cheeks?”
“They do, but are you ready for both?”
“I think I can handle it.”
He got up from the table, and I did too. He kissed me lightly on one cheek and moved to kiss the other.
“You’re shamefully hard, you slut,” I whispered as I kissed his cheek.
He sniggered as he popped a peck on mine.
“Bye,” he said quietly.
“Bye, darling - love you! Don’t forget our threesome with Ramón tonight,” I said very loudly.
He escaped.
“Oh, it’s going to be so much fun! And Addy said I would be bored stiff; stiff, yes and bored, soon to be, hopefully!”