by Jerome Wilde
How was it that we humans could be so cruel?
“What?” Daniel asked again, putting his face close to mine. I could feel his warm breath on my cheek. I could smell him. And, suddenly, I had the mad desire to make love to him, right then and there, a wild, wicked tumble of naked limbs and body parts, as if the only way to escape the darkness and cruelty of the world was to lose oneself in its opposite.
Instead, I fell asleep.
II
The next time I woke, Daniel was still in the chair by my bed, only now his head was resting on the mattress near my legs, and he was fast asleep.
It seemed to be early evening.
My mind felt fogged, sluggish, yet also alert, as if I was waking up from a long fever or illness and making my way back to reality.
I remembered everything that happened and frowned. I looked again at my bandaged wrist, just to be sure I hadn’t imagined it all.
Daniel was roused by my movements.
“How are you, boss?”
I tried to offer a smile. For some reason, I was afraid, overwhelmed, on edge.
“It’s okay now,” he said. “It’s all gonna be all right.”
I tried to smile. I reached out my good hand, putting my fingers on his cheek. He was such a lovely man, one of those souls completely unaware of how beautiful they are.
“How’d you get to be so fucking handsome?” I asked.
“I was wondering when you were going to notice,” he said.
“Well, since I’m flat on my back and helpless, if you don’t take advantage of me at least once, I’m going to be terribly disappointed.”
“What if I take advantage of you more than once?”
“I’ll just have to live with it.”
He smiled that bright smile of his, flashing those big, white teeth, and I was completely and undeniably hooked.
“Got news for you,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“Your mom was arrested for violating her probation.”
“That was fast,” I replied.
“Don’t you want to know why she was arrested?”
“Not really,” I said. “She’s safer inside than out. That’s all that matters.”
“They’re going to let you out of here today,” he said. “I’ll take you home. Tuck you into bed. And then… well, you know.”
“No. I don’t know. Please elaborate.”
“We live in the Show-Me State. Perhaps I’ll just show you, boss.”
His hand slid beneath the sheet, down my bare belly. My cock was hard before his hand closed around it, squeezing it, making me breathless. For some reason, I thought of Georgina Durmount singing Mississippi Goddam.
“Well… hello again,” Daniel said.
“Don’t be starting something you can’t finish, Daniel Qo,” I said.
“That wouldn’t be Chinese-style, boss-man,” he replied, flashing a brilliant smile.
About the Author
JEROME WILDE is a writer, gay rights activist and former Franciscan who lives in the Deep South. He has an unhealthy interest in murder and mayhem and is often found lurking at the library among unsuspecting patrons.
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Copyright
Boy Crucified ©Copyright Jerome Wilde, 2013
Published by
Dreamspinner Press
5032 Capital Circle SW
Ste 2, PMB# 279
Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886
USA
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Art by Paul Richmond
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This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the Publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 5032 Capital Circle SW Ste 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA.
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Digital ISBN: 978-1-62380-636-1
Printed in the United States of America
First Edition
June 2013
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE In the beginning
CHAPTER TWO Sources close to the investigation
CHAPTER THREE And then there were two
CHAPTER FOUR Soldiers for Christ
CHAPTER FIVE Dies irae
CHAPTER SIX The way of the cross
CHAPTER SEVEN De profundis
About the Author
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