Order Lavina Today!
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
 |
Novels by Mary Marcus
New on the Blog
A Meeting of Minds
Lady “What’s your name? I might have asked before, but I forgot.” “I’m calling myself Lady these days.” What I don’t say is “after my Lady Smith revolver” that I keep it in my underwear drawer. “Lady,” smiles my handsome friend. “If you’re Lady I wanna be the Tramp.” We both smile. We had met at yoga. We both like Nate who goes slowly, doesn’t blast you with constant oldies-but-goodies or even worse, fake spiritual crap. We had walked out together twice and chatted. Now we are having cappuccino, his treat. That’s the first step in the dating ritual. Cappuccino and then if the spark is there, a date soon after in the evening. I’d been through dozens of variations of this dance since my divorce, but had abandoned all such activities once the dark arm of the angel of death, the big C, had appeared and just as mysteriously disappeared like a miasma of smoke that clears after the bomb goes off. I’m in remission. But for how long? Photo: Joel Goodman Until this handsome classmate sidled up next to me after class, the only thing on my mind has been another man, one who haunts my days, and appears in my fantasies and often my dreams. I’d even tracked him down and seduced him. And he’d liked it. Had I liked it? Certainly I’d enjoyed that my motivations were unknown to him, just as his had been unknown to me back when I was young, sweet and naive. His hobby I discovered later was popping cherries then saying cheerio, so to speak. It was a long time...A New Man
“What are you calling yourself now?” He takes in the blond guy, who looks like a lot of forty-something year old men who make good money, maybe go to Vegas for their kicks, have a wife, kids, an affair or two. His mind races around the fact that the guy knows all about him, has been following him for some time, has mentioned his twin. Has also mentioned the woman who died some months ago, and the one who had not on Christmas Eve. He’s busted. The blond guy’s next few words confirm it: “We’re guessing you don’t want to go back inside, do you?” He shakes his head, trying not to appear guilty. “I’ve been calling myself Blue. Like the color.” The blond guy’s own blue eyes take him in. “Blue, it suits you. I like it.” Photo: Joel Goodman His mother had named him Steve. Not Steven just Steve. He never liked that name. His twin had gotten the far better name, Anthony. Anthony and Steve, identical twins, one good as gold, the other, a bad ass from the get go. “So, what’s your name as long as we’re getting personal?” “For now it’s Greg Endless. Would you like to see my ID?” “Not unless you want to show it to me.” This makes Endless smile. Endless had been following him for a couple of days. He was there when he came out of the shelter. He was there when he did some panhandling in Beverly Hills in the Neiman Marcus parking lot, one of his favorite spots. He was even there when he walked off...Aftermath
We had just made love in the afternoon, in the big king size bed in the master bedroom facing the back where huge trees, none of them palms, a rarity in Los Angeles, had been growing for decades. And where there was a rose garden with mature roses, a little bench, a fountain, quite a set up for a “lonely bachelor” as he called himself when he showed me around the place. Actually, since I’d done my research: he’d been married and divorced four times, and had grown children. Was he close with any of them? Was he generous with his money? Did he love them? Did they love him? I knew it was going to happen today, because I was going to make it happen today. And, after all, we are consenting adults: I am early fifties, he sixty-three. He’s pretending to be around fifty now. There’s a prescription for the pills in his medicine chest—I checked that out when I went in to pee forty minutes ago. He had done the same five minutes before that. The pill takes a quarter hour or so to activate. It says so right on the label. Sounds like a missile about to launch, doesn’t it? As in, ready set… I felt like asking him, “Are you seeing blue?” That’s one of the side effects. Photo: Joel Goodman It was my freshman year of college. We met at a mixer. I had half a dozen real dates with him before he did the dirty deed. He wooed, he tickled, he licked, he caressed, he bought dinner, he discussed, made sure...
The New Me
Lavina
Amazon • Barnes & Noble • Books-a-Million • iBooks • Indiebound • Indigo • The StoryPlant