May’s Exclusive Excerpt: In the Ring by James Lear

We’ve followed Dan Stagg through the fires of war, and now we follow him though “death” and into a new life as a modern-day, brusque, ex-marine version of James Bond. Did I mention he was gay? And that he has the sex drive of a genuine blue-ribbon stud horse? (From the sounds of it, he has the package to match, too.)

Secretly alive after being “killed-in-action” in the last book,  Dan’s acerbic and “looking-for-love-in-all-the-wrong-places” self cannot help but to sign up for a top-secret mission from the CIA. He is spirited off to London to infiltrate a boxing ring – one with suspected ties to conservative terrorists groups that are set to strike at the heart of progressive movements and organizations.

As Dan says himself, “Fucking got me thrown out of the corps, and now it’s my biggest asset?” Luckily for him, his new life turns into something even better as he gets to literally fuck and fight his way into and out of a plethora of sticky situations. To make matters even hotter, Dan has a certain level of disrespect for authority–like that bad boy from high school. You know the one. The one you still secretly think of in your more. . . private. . . moments.

The arena was getting busy, people pushing past us as they made their way to their seats, hands full of plastic glasses of beer. On the other side of the private door, everything was quiet.

“Just come through here.” He held open another door, and suddenly we were in a warm, carpeted area, low lights, the distant hum of voices. “The press room is just round the corner. I think they’re doing photos or something. Toilets are down here.”

I followed him through the door with the male symbol on it. Two tiny urinals, a hand basin, and a cubicle that was barely big enough for an adult to turn around in. “Thanks, Oz. I won’t be long.” I stood at the pisser, undid my pants, and flopped my cock out. I was going to have to produce something to give myself credibility. I closed my eyes, thought about waterfalls, and managed a short, steady stream.

“Suppose I might as well go too, while I’m here. Don’t know when I’ll get another chance.” He was beside me, just as I had hoped, pulling the elasticated waist of his track pants down, hauling out a decent-sized dick. With all the crap he was carrying—clipboards, laminates, and so on—he had to manage it with just one hand. He pushed his hips forward and pissed a little against the porcelain. I’d finished, but was making very certain I’d shaken off all the drops. Oz glanced down at me; I was on the way to being half hard, and it looked big. Distracted, he let the clipboard slip from where it was held under his arm; in trying to catch it, he splashed piss over his pants.

“Oh, shit. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You didn’t get me.” I didn’t put my cock away, even though there was now no reason for me to have it out. Oz stepped back from the urinal and started brushing himself down. “Here, let me help.” I took the stuff he was carrying, and held it for him, making sure I didn’t block his view.

“Thanks, Greg. Fucking hell. What a mess.”

There was an electric hand dryer on the wall, the sort with a directional spout. “Come here. Stand under that.”

I hit the button, and Oz tried to angle the damp patch on his pants towards the hot air. He was too far away, and in trying to wriggle around into the right position he exposed his furry brown ass. My dick was getting hard in earnest now.

“You need to get closer.”

He stood on tiptoe, even jumped up. “I can’t.” The wet patch was a very visible dark gray.

“Here.” I put my arms around his waist from behind and lifted him so the hot air was blasting straight on to the affected area, flattening the black hair on his thighs like wind blowing through corn. Coincidentally, this position also brought my cock into contact with his ass. I braced my legs and held him, making sure he could feel my growing hardness.

“That’s . . . oh . . . that’s great . . .”

“We’re nearly there.”

“Yeah. Just . . . just keep going a bit . . . longer . . .” A bit longer and I’d have been slipping my cock into him, and he knew it. But when the worst of the wetness had disappeared, I lowered him to his feet. He was rock hard, sticking straight up, and he tried to bend over to conceal it. I didn’t bother.

“It’s okay, dude. Nothing to be embarrassed about. Look.” I smacked the underside of my cock a few times, made it bounce against my belly. “Guys get stiff all the time, right?”

“I know . . . it’s just . . . I mean, some people are like . . . you know . . .”

“Uptight about it? They’re assholes. It’s cool. You’re cute. You have a nice ass.”

“Oh, I . . . er . . . yeah . . .”

Poor kid was so horny and mortified and confused I thought he was going to cum on the spot. But that wouldn’t do. I had to keep him keen. I stuffed my hard dick back into my pants, and buttoned up. He looked heartbroken.

“You better put that away before someone comes in. Here.” I grabbed hold of his cock, squeezed it hard, and pulled his pants up over it. “Now think about your mother. That usually does the trick.”

He stood like a stunned cow, hands hanging by his sides.

“Come on, Oz. Wake up.” I gave back his stuff. He frowned, and tried to pull himself together. “You’ve got my number, right? Now, let me go watch the fight.”

“Oh . . . okay.”

Poor kid needed to cum so badly, and he’d felt my dick rubbing against his ass, and nothing would be right in his world until I’d fucked him. That was just how I wanted him. Mission accomplished.

“Call me, and we’ll fix up a proper training session.”

“Yeah.”

“And put in a good word for me with your boss. I need a job.”

“Okay.”

I moved towards the door. Oz looked as if he was going to start crying. “Oh, for Christ’s sake. Come here.” I grabbed him by the back of the neck, pulled him in, and kissed him hard on the mouth, pushing my tongue in. He staggered back against the wall and I pressed on, thrusting my groin against him. “You do what I say, and I’ll fuck your sweet ass until you can’t stand up.” I let him go. “Call me, Oz.”

I left him to compose himself, and made my way out to the auditorium.

In the Ring by James Lear can be purchased any place where books and ebooks are sold: Amazon, iTunes, Barnes & Noble, Google Play, Kobo, and more!

You can read more about In the Ring and James Lear here.

Need to know more about Dan? Or have a pressing need to fulfill your completionist tendencies? You can check out the first two books of The Dan Stagg Mystery series, The Hardest Thing and Straight Up.

Don’t forget to tell your friends on Goodreads!

Happy reading 😉

An Interview with The Combat Zone’s Author Vincent Wilde

This week Cleis Press sat down with writer Vincent Wilde to get a behind the scenes look at his writing process and inspiration for his most recent book, The Combat Zone, which came out in January 2017.

 

What was your inspiration for the book?   

Vincent Wilde: I’ve always been interested in mysteries and the detective genre, but, in this case, the seed for The Combat Zone came many years ago and arose out of my increasing frustration and horror about the tactics used by right-wing groups, particularly those opposed to the gay rights movement. I felt they needed to be called out, and my fiction was the best way I could find a strong voice without being polemical. Under ever-increasing pressure, we must continue the fight for equality and justice. Just when you think the battle is won, another enemy steps forward.

Your book is an interesting example of cross-genre fiction. What inspired you to write a book that combines the erotica, suspense, and crime genres?

VW: To be honest, I never really thought of the book in that way. The best way to present the story, I thought, was to take a killer who preyed upon the “underbelly” of humanity, and write a protagonist who had known that life and had no real shame about coming to terms with his past. Cody Harper’s strengths lie in his loyalty to his friends, knowing his true self and also knowing his limits. The Combat Zone, Boston’s sanctioned red-light district, is no longer there, but I felt it was the perfect setting for an antagonist whose sexual and social worlds violently collide.

 

 

Instead of just being a traditional sleuth, Cody is also a cross-dresser. What was the thought process behind that decision?

VW: I thought Cody would be a nice addition to the genre, but I also have friends who enjoy drag and are practitioners of what I would characterize as an “art form.” Drag also delivers wonderful and engaging benefits to the community. Thanks to those friends, I added realistic detail to the story by combining their knowledge with Cody’s love of drag and leather. It also gives him the option of becoming another personality—Desdemona—when the story requires it. Drag keeps his enemies guessing as he tries to solve the crime.

 

Where there any writers that you looked to for inspiration?

VW: Quite a few LGBTQ writers paved the way for my addition to the genre. John Rechy’s City of Night, was a revelation in its candor and stunning presentation. I’ve always been a fan of our groundbreaking mystery writers such as Richard Stevenson, Nathan Aldyne, and Michael Nava.

 

 

 

I also want to touch a little on your writing proccess so let’s just jump right into that. Did you have any difficulties or was there anything that you struggled with while writing the book?

VW: No writer wants to admit a struggle with any book, but The Combat Zone was a novel near and dear to my heart, and one, as I pointed out, that sprang from my concern about gay bashing. The most difficult thing about writing a mystery, I think, is discovering a plot hole in the middle of the story that the writer hasn’t planned for. Thus, you’ve written yourself into a corner and sometimes it’s hard to get out. I found myself in just such a disaster about half-way through the novel. My first response was to scrap the book, but I loved Cody and had too much invested in him as a character. It took about three months of creative thinking for me to get back on track. I find that when the writing stops something’s wrong with the plot. The character usually lets you know what needs to be fixed because he or she won’t go the direction you want to take.

 

Wow, three months. I definitely think it’s safe to say that you’re a pretty determined and self-disciplined writer, but how do you deal with the archenemy of all writers: writers block?

VW: Some days it’s hard to go to the keyboard. I get over that by tricking myself into believing I only need to write 100 words—that’s hardly more than a typical e-mail. Of course, I find myself writing more and more, and pretty soon I’ve written two or three pages. Usually that works like a charm. But I think it’s fair to say that on some days you don’t need to write. I don’t subscribe to the theory that you MUST write every day. If you don’t feel like writing, give yourself a break and take the day off. The next day, I find I’m charged and ready to go back to work. Also, writer’s block exists. I know because I experienced it. For me it wasn’t a question of not wanting to write, or failing to put myself into the chair. There’s a huge difference between being lazy and true writer’s block. Severe writer’s block stems from a deep psychological concern. The writer who suffers may need therapeutic help to solve the underlying issues.

 

That email trick is a great idea and I might have to steal it to use when I’m writing. But let’s face it, even if you want to write sometimes you just don’t have time to sit down and get out a few pages. How do you find a balance between your writing life and your everyday life? 

VW: Writers make time to write no matter whether they work full-time or not. Don’t get me wrong, it’s incredibly difficult to crank out pages when you have job and family obligations. But, it can be done. When I was working full-time, I wrote on Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday nights and on weekends. I was happy with an hour’s worth of work on weeknights, but usually I did more. On weekends, I worked between loads of laundry and bouts of cleaning house. It can be done. I balanced my life by giving myself Monday and Friday nights and weekend nights off. Now that I don’t have to work full-time, I set a daily word goal that I strive to meet five days a week while I’m working on a book.

 

You’ve already given some great tips, but do you have any other advice that you’d like to give to writers who are just starting out?

VW: The best advice I can give to anyone wanting to get started in this business is: start now. I’ve heard so many would-be writers say, “I’ve always wanted to write a book.” And I ask, “So, what’s stopping you?” Unless you’re a genius, your path to publication most likely will involve writing hundreds of thousands of words and a couple of failed novels before you get on track. I know there are always exceptions, but I think most writers have a period of breaking in, almost like an internship, when everything is up for grabs, including subject matter, stylistic formation, etc. The sooner you know what you want to write the better. Also, read, read, read! I think all true writers are readers. And you need to read outside your genre.

 

The “reading outside your genre” advice is fantastic! Finally, my last question: Now that this case is closed, what’s next for Cody Harper?

VW: There is a sequel: An Absent God, scheduled to be published in November 2017 by Cleis Press. Cody has always been a loner, but in An Absent God, he finds a love interest, Anthony Vargas. “Settling in” is something new for Cody and, in its own way, the process is just as scary and challenging as dealing with a murderer. The sequel also brings back a few characters from The Combat Zone, including Cody’s old nemesis, Rodney Jessup. It’s my hope that Cody Harper entertains, but also makes readers think seriously about social issues that affect us all.

 

 

Vincent Wilde is the author of the Cody Harper mystery series about a cross-dressing sleuth who enjoys wielding a whip as much as slipping into a silk chemise. He also is the author of numerous novels and short stories in other genres. Some of his influences include Edgar Allan Poe, H.P. Lovecraft, Shirley Jackson, Oscar Wilde, Daphne du Maurier, Richard Matheson, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, and any work by the exquisite Brontë sisters.