I know what you are thinking… Bee? Two posts in one day? Yep. But this time I am placing out some of my actual fiction. And I want feedback. Even if it sucks! I would really love to hear if that comma is still killing my stories. (Obviously that won’t be the only thing killing it). I will leave two different beginnings here and place them at your feet my friends. (Long read.)
This first one is about an actor I may have mentioned in my post, A Guide to Bee’s Fictional Men. He is a womanizer in his own right, and playing the part of a gay king. It makes for a great dynamic and alludes to the meaning of the title The Art of Confusion.
Jasper Davies sent a wicked smirk with his full lips at his co-star who looked at him mildly annoyed and slightly intimidated. For some reason he had no problem being a Norseman in a viking series. The king nonetheless. His light blonde hair was already to his shoulders, and his beard was the only new addition for the season. His blueberry eyes were wicked usually, but could be intimidating when he wished them to be. And his build? Well he spent several hours on it and he was cut, fit, large, and perfectly suitable for women to swoon over.
He brushed some extra powder off his smooth chest and noted that one of the interns grabbing props stopped to stare for a moment at his impressive form. He shot her a wicked look out of the corner of his eyes and didn’t feel like that was out of line. “Jasper.” he heard and he lifted his neat blonde brows to show he was listening to the voice in his ear. “Try not to kill him off this time.” the director said.
His loud and happy laugh sent his head back and his co-star pursed his lips at him. The man was terrified that was for sure. They were king and captain of the guard and about to argue over what was best for the kingdom. With a twist. He thought as his eyes twinkled with mischief. King Leo was gay. And his captain was about to be. Whether anything came of it or not, the sexual tension had to be intense and cause anyone watching to sweat and swoon.
“Knock it off Jasper.” the man said in his flat american accent. Oliver had his dark hair extended to a shaggy cut that was probably done by sword as they were vikings. He had low riding leather pants on and no shirt. And a scarf that wrapped up and over his hair. Only his longer bangs were peeking out at the moment and his shadow over his face gave him a rugged appearance.
“You lower those much more big boy and I will have nothing left to chase after.” He teased Oliver on his low riding pants. His light Scottish brogue was accented with the sharpness of humour.
He snorted and shot him a look with his clear silver eyes, “This is dreadful.” he muttered.
“Oh come on now lad.” he said happily. “It’s just part of it.” Jasper was generally content and happy wherever he went and with whatever his character did. It was all part of the game of acting for him. It made him highly sought after.
As Oliver stepped closer to him and his lack of amusement flooded his eyes he tutted, “I mean the things we are doing.” he said.
Jasper shrugged as he too stepped closer to Oliver and set his feet apart. His six-and-a-half-foot frame was several inches over Oliver even though he too was over six-foot. “I just want to know how a viking got such a nice tan.” he teased.
“Alright, action!” the director yelled.
And it was game on. Suddenly he was filled with more rage than contentment. His frame and testosterone allowed for it and he grabbed his captain up and slammed him chest to the wall. There behind him he stepped up to tease any man who might wish to be seduced. “You press your luck here.” he said silkily in Oliver’s ear and the man shuddered.
“And you toy with the wrong man.” he warned barely turning his head. Again there was a struggle and Jasper found himself the one to the wall that time but just his back. That made them very close face to face. “I won’t stand by and wait for you to choose your path.” he warned him.
That spiked his temper and again the captain was slammed chest to the wall. Jasper was plastered up behind him and both his large hands were on the man’s wrists. Any gay man should be sighing, unless he was hiding it like they both were. “I will do as I please.” he said almost too sexually. “And when I please.” he told him even more quietly.
“Cut.” they heard and both of them tutted for the interruption. “King Leo do you really think you should be the one swooning?” he asked.
“Well look at the lad.” he said with a laugh. The director gave him a bland look. “Well I’m not sure yet what code to send the man to get his attention.” he admitted.
The director grunted and rubbed a hand down his face as if that was tiresome to think of. “You don’t have to get his attention, you have it.”
Oliver tutted and Jasper laughed at him. “Maybe I don’t wish for his attention.” he explained.
“Let me look back.” the director said and he and a couple of others gathered around the small screen and were discussing and going through that scene.
Oliver shot him a wicked little smirk. “My wrists hurt.” he told him. “Do it again.”
Jasper cussed and chuckled. “You are wicked Oliver.” he told his co-star.
“I’m not sure how to advise you on any of this as well, each relationship is different.” he said logically. “I mean, my husband and I are hardly rough at all and we just naturally found one another. It was almost easy.”
Jasper rocked back on his heels and stuck his tongue in his cheek. “Well yes.” he said. “But you see I am a playboy and hardly have kept a girl long enough to think about how to woo any. I never have to.”
“And then neither should King Leo.” Oliver said simply. “I mean come on, you have your pick of men and women.”
“True.” he said with thought.
“So all of your action should stem from the reality you will get what you want and right now you are just rattling my cage.” Oliver went on.
Oliver was a bright actor and that was why he and Jasper were good friends even off screen. And this series had the potential for longevity and being almost cult like in nature. “So I’m not seducing you, I am charging you up.”
“Better in the bedroom big boy.” he teased.
-The Art of Confusion by Bee 2017
This second bit, if you have stuck with me so far, is a completely different flavor.
The sun was half way up in the sky, shining brightly, and warming the snow patches left over from a particularly harsh winter. The icicles were gleaming and dripping against the side of the building, and the lake was groaning toward a possible ice break. “Oh get up!” Layah Lorien heard as her best friend Michael Carrington kicked the side of her bed.
“Oh I’ve lost the will to live.” she bemoaned dramatically. Her copper curls fell over her one eye she opened and she stuffed her face into her pillow hoping to be smothered.
His tut made her smirk but it was hidden in the pillow so he missed it. “The ice break is nearing and I have a bet to win.” he began. “I mean we came to this town in the dead of winter, hoping for something awesome to happen, and dammit it is going to happen.” he went on.
A groan of misery came out of her and she tugged the pillow her face was in up and over her head before tugging it over her ears. “I just can’t.” she whined. “Oh the humanity.”
“Diva, you are worse that a queen who broke a heel in full drag.” he accused. “Now we need to get out there and see the realtor.”
“No.” she said flatly. “Why did I let you talk me into this stupidity? Why?” she demanded grumpily.
He let out one of his more dramatic sighs and she could hear him pacing. “Because we both needed off that rock, and you needed to branch out.” he told her with the same grumpy energy. “And I was right. And I told you so.”
“Ok first off our island was not a rock.” she corrected as she sat up and faced him. “And I know you told me so.” Her full pink lips formed a pitiful pout and her curls again were in her eyes. “Ugh I hate my life.” she snapped and she went back to hiding under the pillow.
The doorbell rang and he tutted. She could hear Michael going on about her to someone as he came back to her room. “And see here she is refusing all life.” he finished.
LuAnne, a good friend of theirs, let out her husky laugh. “Oh sweetie.” she said. “He was so not worth all this effort emotionally.” she told her. She plopped on her bed sending Layah rolling for a moment before she could catch herself and stay under the pillow. “I mean I know you thought he was a great guy, but he obviously had flaws Michael could see and thought better on.”
“It’s not a flaw for a man to toss a girl aside because something so much better came along.” she told them.
“That is it!” Michael said and he ripped her covers off her. It was chilly and she made a sound of annoyance. “You are getting out of this damn bed and you are coming out into the sun today. If we play it right, we will be at the local pub for the ice break and can drink beer until we stumble.”
With a resigned sigh, she dragged herself out of bed and hunted up some clothing. “How can I be too fat and not curvy enough at the same time?” she asked them with a tut as she tossed aside several shirts that were not large enough for her style.
It was LuAnne who took up that answer. “Because he would never have seen you as good enough.” she said as if it were obvious.
“But she looked like you!” Layah explained for the hundredth time to the pair. LuAnne was happily the most sought after woman in the small town they settled in. She had full blonde hair to her shoulders that seemed to hold a style even when she just woke up. She was around six-foot and had a great curvy figure that likened her to a Bond girl. Her blue eyes were wicked and her voice husky. Layah made a soft sound of misery and sat where she was standing right on the floor.
“Oh here we go again.” Michael grumped. He too was absolutely gorgeous being over six-foot with a killer body he worked hard on. His blonde hair was highlighted by the sun, but he kept it up at the hairdresser when they moved to the northern latitude. He also had blue eyes and longer eyelashes than anyone Layah knew.
“First off sweetie, it doesn’t matter if she is like me.” LuAnne told her sternly. “She is a brat that deserves that ass you called a boyfriend.”
“I agree.” Michael snorted.
“And secondly, you are not fat, you are trim and have curve enough to you. That man was an idiot. He would have found any excuse to keep you his but also never touch you.” LuAnne reminded her.
“But men should be unable to help themselves.” she said with confusion.
“Unless they are asshats which Lance was.” Michael said as he threw some stretchy yoga pants at her and she stood to put them on. “He used you to get on that research station and that is all there is to it.”
She grabbed up a large sweatshirt and pouted again, “Oh I know that.” she said finally. “And that is more my issue. I was stupid enough to believe a guy one more time when he said he liked me.”
“Well you are darling.” LuAnne scolded. “Why would you think different?”
“Because he’s an idiot.” Michael pointed out.
-No Will by Bee 2017