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Living in Fast Forward
by B. A. Tortuga
Category: Erotica/Gay-Lesbian Erotica/Romance
Description: Hollis Lee is an aging rock star with a country edge who needs a little TLC. Or a lot, according to his manager Charlie. He's been drinking and partying, and he's not getting any younger, so Charlie hires a personal trainer to get Hollis back in line. Before he ruins his career. Jeremy is just the trainer for the job. Even-tempered and able to put up with anything Hollis throws his way, Jeremy is determined to do his job and get that fine rock star back into fighting trim. And ignore the attraction to Hollis that plagues him on a daily basis. Fighting Jeremy takes more effort than Hollis can summon, and soon he's getting back in shape, despite the occasional foray into sausage biscuits and hamburgers. Things are going well for Hollis and Jeremy both, in their jobs and their blossoming personal life. They're playing with fire, though. Hollis is trying to keep his sex life a secret, and Jeremy's livelihood depends on his discretion. As long as Hollis is on tour, Jeremy has the perfect excuse to hang around. But when a terrible accident separates them, Hollis and Jeremy have to start sneaking around to see each other. Can their newfound love survive the web of deception and pain they've created?
eBook Publisher: Torquere Press/Top Shelf, 2007 http://www.torquerepress.com
eBookwise Release Date: June 2007
 
114 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [234 KB]
Words: 52741
Reading time: 150-210 min.
Chapter One "What the fuck do you think you're doing, boy?" Charlie Gill, his manager, could shout like a sumbitch. Normally it made Hollis growl. Tonight it just made him laugh. He watched his right boot go sailing across the little bunkroom of the bus, then his jeans. "What're you talkin' about, man?" "I saw you on that fucking awards show, son. You were drunk as a skunk. You looked swollen on camera." "Oh, fuck you, Charlie." The way his boxer briefs hung up on the hook on the back of the door made him laugh like a loon. "That show was a waste of fucking space. You shoulda never booked me. I mean, Christ..." He tried to get up, staggered, and fell on the bed with a thud that rattled his brain. "What? Hollis? You okay?" "M'fine." He frowned down at his legs, telling them sternly to work. "I just needed to get through the night. I mean, what were you thinking? Fashion Forward, for Christ's sake. Am I a fashion icon? Fuck, no." He was a fucking redneck who happened to look good in jeans and sing good old-fashioned rockabilly. "I was thinking you could clean up your image," Charlie said. "After that arrest in Tampa..." "Which came to nothing, as I was so not guilty." Scratching his belly, Hollis squinted at the ceiling, which was spinning slowly, but getting faster. "Damn, Sam." "Name's Charlie ... you're in big trouble, boy." "Uh-huh. Sure. Look, Charlie, I gotta go. I'm gonna go puke." He hung up the phone and tossed it off into the ether, needing quiet and either more JD or less ... maybe more. In the end he decided just to stay where he was and sleep. There should be no spinning involved in that.
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