Chris tries to suppress their smile but fails. “Yeah,
all right.” They tilt their face and lick Alex’s lips.
“And Happy Valentine’s, my Big Blue!”
~~~
Alex insists that Chris can’t see the design of his
new tattoo until tonight. It’s been twenty-four
hours. When they have sex, he’ll reveal it, Alex says.
Chris laughs. “You think you’re going to trick me
into agreeing to having sex, don’t you?”
Alex shoves more pasta into his mouth—his
favourite that Chris cooks at least once a week, with
extra tuna for Alex.
Chris makes Alex work for it when they’re in bed.
“Take your top off.”
Alex does, looking embarrassed for no good
reason.
“Lie down on the bed,” Chris commands.
Chris licks her sweet lips and regards Alex. She
never ceases to marvel at the power of his body.
Like a striptease without music, she takes her time
shedding her top. Alex can’t conceal his excitement
at the sight of Chris’s smooth skin and shapely
nipples.
One by one, Chris unhooks the buttons of her
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jeans and slowly peels them off, teasing Alex with
her sensuality. Her favourite black thong hardly
conceals her excitement. Alex swallows.
“Are you blushing, Alex Whale?” Chris is amused.
Under Chris’s gaze, Alex tries to hide from the
intensity of his reactions.
Chris shimmies out of her thong slowly, freeing
herself. She ghosts her fingers along Alex’s
stretched muscles, every inch of the big man well-
defined. She scratches him with her black-lacquered
nails, circulating and flirting with his body.
Chris eventually unzips Alex’s trousers and
releases his erection. She leans down and licks and
sucks him.
When she stops teasing Alex, she asks, “So, what
will you do to persuade me to fuck you tonight?”
Alex’s brain freezes. After far too long, he
whispers, “Anything. This tattoo…”
Chris’s eyes sparkle. “Does it show how you’ll do
anything to make me happy?”
“Yes. I love you, and I’ll do anything for you.”
Alex can hardly breathe under Chris’s newfound
power.
Chris pulls down Alex’s trousers, taking them off
completely, and peels off the bandage covering his
left thigh.
The tattoo bursts with white and different shades
of blue. Black elegant lines dance a tango through
the patches of colour. Its wings raised, about to take
flight. The cerulean shade bleeds like watercolour
on his taut skin.
“This is beautiful.” Chris traces the design etched
into Alex’s strong flesh like a stretched canvas.
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No escape from a bond so deep.
“It’s a perfect combination of you and me.”
Chris’s eyes take on the same indigo as the bird in
flight.
A blue jay.
-- END --
372
ABOUT A. ZUKOWSKI
I am a London-based British writer who grew up in
the gay village and red light district of Manchester,
UK.
I was trained in screenwriting at the University of
the Arts London; National Film & Television School
and Script Factory, UK. I worked as a film
journalist, wrote and produced short films. My
stories are based on personal and emotional
experiences, and feature strong LGBTQ-identified
characters.
Connect with the Author
Twitter: @saszazukowski
Blog: http://azukowskiblog.wordpress.com
Goodreads:
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/16509569.A_Zukowski Booklikes: http://azukowski.booklikes.com/
FB:
http://www.facebook.com/aleksander.zukowski.353
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OTHER BOOKS BY A. ZUKOWSKI
THE BOY WHO FELL TO EARTH
#1 London Stories
Jay Palmer is two months away from his sixteenth
birthday. He doesn’t realise how his life will be
changed forever when a gang of thugs leaves a badly
injured boy on his doorstep. The biracial boy and
his white single mum Maggie nurse the stranger,
sixteen-year-old Aleksander Zukowski or Sasha.
Sasha ran away from care two and half years ago.
He sleeps rough, is addicted to drugs and sells
himself on the streets of London to fund his habit.
For the first time in his life, he has a reason to
change.
Sasha confirms what Jay already knows about
himself but it won’t be easy for Jay to come out to
his macho mates in a largely black neighbourhood.
Sasha has an uphill struggle to stay clean when his
past threatens to throw him back into the abyss. Are
the two boys strong enough to stay together against
all odds?
Praise for The Boy Who Fell to Earth:
“I know this is one of those stories that will play on
374
my mind long after I've stopped reading.” ~Alpha
Book Club
“It has a force that keeps you on the edge of the seat
and a grittiness that opens your eyes and makes you
think.” ~Sinfully Gay Book Reviews
~~~
Leyton, London.
It happened when Ma and I were having dinner in
the front room. Well, if you grew up in a poor,
single-parent family in fucking East London, you
were lucky to have a sitting room separate from
your bedroom. Mum always said that the flat cost
her half her salary, so “don't you complain”. I didn’t.
I had a box room with a single bed, and I could
never fault my mum’s ability to feed me. After all, I
was not even sixteen and nearly six feet tall and I
ate like an elephant all the time which was down to
my father’s genes, apparently. My mum should have
hated the way I reminded her of my dad because he
walked out on her when I was only five, but she
didn’t.
Anyway, this night we were in the sitting room with
our dinner hot on the table. It was only October, but
the sky had darkened since the late afternoon. A
loud squeak cut through the thick blackness
outside. Mum and I looked at one another, as we sat
and listened.
We could hear a car stop; tyres skidded across the
road right in front of our place. Car doors opening
and the voices indicated two or three men got out
375
from the car and something heavy was thrown onto
our front lawn. They shouted incomprehensibly to
each other and got back in the car, slamming the
doors with loud bangs. I called it our “lawn”, but it
was a patch of grass that was basically part of the
pavement. People dumped all kinds of crap there all
the time. The car sped off, its tyres screeching with
the friction.
“What the fuck!” I stood up to look out, expecting to
see fly tipping
in our front garden again. The
bastards.
“Language!” Ma never failed to remind me.
Living in our part of London, we should keep our
nose out of other people’s business. But, now that
the men had gone, I wasn’t afraid to go and
investigate. I lifted the curtains and peered into the
dark, my breath instantly misting up the window. I
assumed they had left a bag of rubbish, a piece of
old furniture, or something like that, but they
hadn’t. I screwed up my eyes to see in the dark, to
make out the shape of the thing on the lawn, and my
heart pounded. Arms and thighs shimmered oddly
white in the night.
“Shit, mum. There’s someone out there. They
dumped a body.” Perhaps I grew up watching too
many crime and detective dramas. My mum loved
them. But I was sure I wasn’t imagining things.
Around our part of London it was entirely possible
it was a dead man.
“A body?” Mum was a nurse which was a good thing
because she sounded curious rather than scared or
376
panicky.
I ran out first. The man—well, he was a boy about
the same age as me—lay on his side, his legs drawn
up. My heart thumped when I saw that his trousers
were down just below his knees; his bare arse was
bloody and his balls were black, as though someone
had literally kicked his nuts. The rest of him was the
same, black and blue everywhere; his face was
covered in blood. In the pale, yellowy lamplight he
looked dead. I could make out he was pale skinned
and his hair colour was light, probably blonde. My
eyes were drawn back to his limp penis. I couldn’t
help it. I wasn’t frightened or disgusted. Instead I
was fascinated by the stranger as if the scene put a
spell on me.
377
LIAM FOR HIRE
A gay novel
#2 London Stories
Liam Murphy has kicked his drug habit and now
pays for the high living costs in London as an escort.
His life is finally in balance. His only problem is that
he obsesses about the minimum number of times he
has to bend over to make ends meet. As long as he
has his emotions under control, it’ll be fine. That’s
what Liam keeps telling himself until he meets the
young widower Alastair, also known as Ali, whose
emerald eyes remind him of Ireland.
Featuring Liam from The Boy Who Fell to Earth.
This title contains material some may find
objectionable or trigger-inducing: mature content,
drug use, suicidal thoughts.
Praise for Liam For Hire:
“[Liam is] extraordinary. So is their story. And if
you dare take a chance on them, I presume you’ll
find the same.” ~ Book Unfunk
“Absolutely beautiful.” ~ Love Bytes LGBTQ Book
Reviews
~~~
378
“You don’t need to lie about your age to be
untruthful. I don’t have anything to hide.” The only
thing no client will get from me is emotional
attachment, as hackneyed as it sounds. It’s not good
for me or for them. I need to protect myself. No one
else will.
He nods, as if he understands my reasoning. After
finishing the joint, I light up another cigarette and
take a large sip of the whisky that clouds my head. I
realise I’m enjoying the conversation. Here in this
little garden, I am able to relax. Living in my box
room in the crowded flat isn’t good for
contemplation. But then, who am I to complain? I
can hardly afford anything else.
As we listen to the hum of the London suburb and
the distant sirens that cut through the city’s streets
all night, Ali’s curious gaze fixes on my face as
though he really wants to know the real me. “And
you’re Irish, right?”
My accent is unmistakable. “Yup. Born and bred in
West Cork.”
Ali plays with his wedding band and he takes a gulp
of his whisky, almost finishing it. “So, how long
have you been in London?”
“I came to London nearly four years ago.” But most
of the first three years were shrouded in a drug-
induced fog. I’m not proud of it.
“Do you miss home? Do you ever feel nostalgic?” Ali
stares dreamily at the shadows of the garden. I
wonder why he’s the one who seems to be pining for
379
something.
I look intently at the dark sky as I consider his
questions and finally I realise what ‘home’ means to
me. Even with a roof over my head I’m still
homeless in my heart. Bricks and mortar don’t
mean anything. I’m not sure if I want a real home
right now, somewhere I belong. Not that one is on
offer or available to someone like me. Some days, I
long for the freedom of the streets, strange as it may
sound to anyone who has never been homeless. My
bedsit and the job are like a hamster’s cage, giving
me temporary shelter but making me go round and
round in circles.
I reply, “I don’t miss the actual places. I miss the
stars and the inky nights. Sometimes I think I can
smell the seaweed on damp sand and hear the
sound of the waves on Inch Beach if I close my eyes.
I yearn for the thunderstorms and the crystal
dewdrops clinging to long grass. I want to hear the
tunes played on a bodhrán and the low notes from
the clarsach.” I inhale deeply, then slowly breathe
out, thinking about those beautiful things I once
shared with someone I thought I loved and would
spend the rest of my life with.
380
COURTING LIGHT
A novella, part of the Seasons of Love
anthology
Our days were numbered but precious.
Courting Light is the story of Josie, an eighteen-
year-old about to leave home to start university in
London. She volunteers at a summer camp for
disabled children. When Josie is paired with the
autistic teenager Lucian, she faces intense
experiences that are truly eye-opening. To her
surprise, Lucian is not the only one who captures
her attention. Over the weeks, Josie develops
powerful desire evoked by the camp’s enigmatic
young leader with a shaved head and tattoo on her
skull.
Praise for Courting Light:
“Poignant and moving.” ~ The Lesbian Review
“A sweet story told with raw emotion, the sensitive
portrayal of Autism, and an ending that will stay
with me for a long time.” ~ Jamie Deacon, Lambda
nominated author
381
BEATEN TRACK PUBLISHING
For more titles from Beaten Track Publishing,
please visit our website:
https://www.beatentrackpublishing.com
Thanks for reading!
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Document Outline
About Blue Jay
Acknowledgements
Ch
apter 1 Tango
Chapter 2 Blue
Chapter 3 Black
Chapter 4 Dance
Chapter 5 Walls
Chapter 6 Boxed
Chapter 7 Colours
Chapter 8 Drag
Chapter 9 Kiss
Chapter 10 Rainbow
Chapter 11 Promises
Chapter 12 Flight
Chapter 13 Fight
Chapter 14 Red
Chapter 15 White
Chapter 16 Pride
Chapter 17 Faith
Chapter 18 Indigo
About A. Zukowski
Other Books by A. Zukowski The Boy Who Fell to Earth
Liam For Hire
Courting Light
Beaten Track Publishing