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I thought again how odd it was to be on formal terms with someone you had once permitted to lick your ears.

Josh Lanyon

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Josh Lanyon
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Have I ever told you, you look like Monty Clift? he inquired in a deep, seductive voice. Before or after the accident?
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The battle rages eternal, though the race, religion, gender or sexual orientation of those discriminated against changes regularly. Maybe man’s need for a scapegoat is genetically programmed into him.
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He looked okay. No, to be honest. He looked a lot better than okay. He looked...fine. Fine, as in get the Chiffons over here to sing a chorus.
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Anyone who wasn't half-stoned on pain meds would have instantly realized what a really bad idea this plan was, but since that didn't include me, I didn't worry about it.
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Rachel delivered it like an official pronouncement. Like she was one of the fairies gifting Sleeping Beauty's christening: Beauty. Intelligence. Heterosexual.
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He needed fresh air and sunshine. A walk in the woods and afterward a good book to read by the fire. Yeah, that was the life.
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I’m never wrong? Who besides Republican presidents and evil masterminds can say that with a straight face?
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He was probably selfish in the sack. Probably selfish and greedy and...unsophisticated. And hung like a horse.
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One thing I’ve noticed about getting older, it takes twice as much work to get half the results one formerly achieved by falling out of bed.
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Kit, you're forty. You look thirty. You act...well, never mind. You're carrying on like you think you're seventy
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...Jake, a homosexual cop buried so deep in the closet he didn't know where to look for himself.
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I noticed you right away. She gave me an approving look. I like quiet, polite men. And men who wear Hugo Boss. I was hoping you weren't gay. Or that you were only half-gay. Like Paul. Uh...sorry, I said. It's pretty much full-time now. The pay's not great, but the perks...
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He scooped up Victoria practically before she hit the ground, well within the five-second rule. If she'd been a potato chip, he could have still eaten her. Not something I particularly wanted to contemplate.
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To find them all in one package...well, perhaps better not to dwell on his package in my fragile state.
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Kevin refilled my plastic cup with more box wine. I smiled thanks. Kevin smiled welcome. Jake kicked my ankle.
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I know you've all heard the advice, Show, don't tell. The best writers don't tell you, and quite frankly they don't just show you -- they make you feel it, live it, taste it, touch it. Storytelling is about being in the moment with the characters.
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Drink your coffee -- people in Africa are sleeping.
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Tiffs among the faggots were apparently the stuff of quiet merriment.
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I'm a thirty-something gay man with a dodgy heart. I sell books for a living. Who wants to read about that?
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