Jake C. Wallace's Blog, page 17

MA Church visits the blog today with Wrapped in Leather!!

 A riding crop and a blindfold doesn't make it BDSM. There is a big difference between being kinky and being in the scene. It's not a sexual thing to me, it's a very spiritual thing.
~ DominaBlue
 

  Hey everyone! I’m M.A. Church and I’m here to talk about my latest release, Wrapped in Leather. It’s the first in the Wrapped Up series and focuses on BDSM. BDSM is an acronym of B&D (Bondage & Discipline), D&S (Dominance & Submission), and S&M (sadomasochism). BDSM refers to any or all of these things, and a lot of stuff besides. 

There are as many ways to practice BDSM as there are people, and Jase, the Dom, talks about this in the story. Tying up your lover is BDSM; so is flogging that person, or bossing that person around… or any of a thousand other things. BDSM is highly erotic—though not always—and can involve sex or sexual tension, the action highly psychologically charged. BDSM is not necessarily hardcore sadomasochism; it can be remarkably subtle, sensual, and soft. Pinning your partner to the bed and running silk or ice cubes or rabbit fur over your lover's body qualifies as BDSM—specifically, of a variety called sensation play.  ~Photo courtesy of Gregory Anton http://rav-photography.com/    Many thanks to the model, Ben. J  The fundamental principles for the exercise of BDSM require informed consent of all involved parties. Since the 1980s, many practitioners and organizations have adopted the motto—originally from the statement of purpose of GMSMA, a gay SM activist organization—safe, sane, and consensual which is commonly abbreviated as SSC. Everything is based on safe activities, participants must
    
Buy link: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=4567
Paperback: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=4568
Release date: January 3rd
Cover Artist: Paul Richmond

 Blurb:
To celebrate his decision to take the next step with his boyfriend Ian, Toshi Baylor plans a romantic evening at their favorite steak house. Toshi starts the special weekend with a bang by surprising Ian at home with lunch. There’s a bang all right, but it’s between Ian and another guy.

Jase Taylor’s auto repair shop and the BDSM club, Wrapped Up, keep him busy while he waits for Mr. Right, instead of Mr. Right Now. He’s a Dom, but playing with the club’s submissives isn’t providing the usual stress release. After a day from hell, he deserves a good meal at his favorite steak house.

Toshi and Jase find a mix-up with their reservations: a table for Baylor, not Taylor. When Toshi invites Jase to dine with him, they discover a mutual affection for leather and a shared belief that trust must be earned.

Before they can explore their common interests, Toshi suffers a series of attacks by vandals. Jase’s protective instincts kick in, but both wonder if it can lead to anything permanent.
 Excerpt:
An hour later, head spinning and body weak, Toshi gasped for air. Little aftershocks of pleasure shot through him, his body tightening spasmodically until Ian’s dick softened and slipped out. They collapsed on the den floor.
“Damn,” Ian mumbled finally as they lay there, still breathing hard. “Now, that’s what I call dessert. You’re a good fuck, Toshi.”
Toshi rested his head on his arm and rolled his eyes, the warm fuzzy afterglow fading abruptly. There were times he truly wished Ian would just keep his mouth shut. “Now that’s romantic.”
“What can I say?” Ian slapped Toshi on the ass. “I’m not one for sappy words.”
Toshi sighed, thoroughly disgusted. “You don’t have to be a poet, but jeez, can’t you come up with something better than I’m a good fuck?”
Ian braced himself on an elbow and looked down at Toshi, a lopsided grin on his face. “You’re a really good fuck?”
“Be still my heart.” Toshi shook his head. I give up. This wasn’t the first time he’d mentioned this. Ian just didn’t get it. Actually, Ian didn’t get a lot of things lately. “I’m going to take a shower. You coming?”
“Can’t. I need to head home. I’ve got an early day tomorrow. Rain check?” Ian rolled to his feet. He removed the condom and dumped it in the nearest trash can. “Speaking of which, I’m going to have to cancel our date tomorrow night. I have to work late.”
“Are you kidding me? Again?” Toshi huffed out a breath and stood. He grabbed a blanket off the couch and wrapped it around his slim hips. The earlier warmth from their lovemaking had retreated. This was happening all too often. That damn loan company Ian worked for must really be growing. All Ian did was work, and frankly, he was getting annoyed. “Dammit, Ian—”
“Hey, babe, I know, okay? But what can I say? They’d be lost without me.” Ian quickly dressed and kissed Toshi on the lips. He grabbed his keys off the coffee table. “Call you later.”
With those parting words, he was gone. Stifling another deep sigh, Toshi locked the front door and walked to the bathroom, then threw the blanket in the hamper. Rattled, he started the shower. It was a shame his own boyfriend had the ability to make him feel like what he said… a fuck. After he tested the water, he stepped inside the stall. The sex was good, but that’s all it felt like—sex. There was something missing—something had been missing for a while.
Toshi soaped the loofah and washed his hairless chest and stomach. He was beginning to feel more like a fuck buddy than a boyfriend. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something was off. Dammit, he wanted more. He wanted a relationship. He wanteda partner who would share his life but who also took control in the bedroom. The last part was a problem for Ian. Ian was trying, but he just wasn’t quite what Toshi dreamed about. Oh, Ian was all for spanking his ass. He’d even tied his hands to the headboard with a pair of cuffs Toshi had bought off the Internet, but Ian was just… playing. That was the best way to sum it up.
Then there was Toshi’s fondness for anything leather, which had earned him a few strange looks from Ian. He’d tried to explain his need, but Ian didn’t get that, either. Leather was nothing more than another material to Ian, but to Toshi, it was so much more. Ian wasn’t serious about the more kinky things Toshi wanted to try. He didn’t exude the dominance Toshi needed so badly in the bedroom.
They’d talked about what he wanted to do. They’d even watched a few DVDs. But Ian as a Dom was a total joke. Ian also thought Toshi’s affection for leather was downright weird. He’d had gone as far as to say he wasn’t interested in bringing leather into their sexual relationship. Toshi didn’t know if he could just shelve his need. After sex, he felt incomplete. Then there was Ian himself—always breaking dates, not returning his calls, most times in a hurry to go… like tonight.
He finished his shower and dried off. He wiped the steam off the bathroom mirror and stared into his own cocoa-colored eyes. “Maybe I should rethink what I’m planning. Maybe.”
Toshi turned the light off and yawned. Guess he’d be calling it an early night after all.

Author bio:

M.A. Church lives in the southern United States and spent many years in the elementary education sector. She is married to her high school sweetheart and they have two children. Her hobbies are gardening, walking, attending flea markets, watching professional football, racing, and spending time with her family on the lake.
But her most beloved hobby is reading. From an early age, she can remember hunting for books at the library. Later nonhuman and science fiction genres captured her attention and drew her into the worlds the authors had created. But always at the back of her mind was the thought that one day, when the kids were older and she had more time, she would write a book.
By sheer chance she stumbled across a gay male romance story on the web and was hooked. A new world opened up and she fell in love. Thus the journey started. When not writing or researching, she enjoys reading the latest erotic and mainstream romance novels. My links:
Blog http://machurch00.blogspot.com
Twitter @nomoretears00
Facebook: M.A. Church http://www.facebook.com/pages/MA-Chur...
The Harvest FB fan page: https://www.facebook.com/#!/theharvest00
Goodreads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5141393.M_A_Church

Wednesday Briefs #14 Diventando: Becoming

Copyright JC Wallace 2013
Welcome to another installment of Diventando: Becoming. If you are new and haven’t read the previous chapters, click on Wednesday Briefs in the left hand column and start with #1. This week’s prompt. Enjoy and feel free to leave a comment.

Incubus? They caught a fucking Incubus? Wait. Wasn’t that some kind of oversexed demon? Didn’t one of Drew’s online games have an Incubus? No, that was a Succubus, the female version of the demon. But still...
They didn’t exist.
Again, Owen wanted to believe that all of this was all some kind of a sick joke. Maybe this was what professors of Mythology found amusing. Nothing about the situation was amusing here and passing the initial horror of the situation, Owen’s anger grew. Not only were these strangers fucking with him, but Turk as well. They’d gone on a date and kissed and now…Someone was going to tell Owen what the fuck was going on or he was going to kick ass! He pulled on the restraints. Okay, maybe he wasn’t kicking anything, but he was going to tell them what he thought of what they were doing.
“Hey,” Owen said. Turk spoke with Dr. Sealy and Malcolm and as usual no one was paying him any attention. “Hey!”
Three sets of eyes turned to Owen, but he was only interested in Turk’s. And once those poignant brown eyes were on him, Owen lost all recall of what he’d wanted to say. Despite the steely hard stare, Turk was warring with himself. Owen could tell a man torn between two truths, and Turk was waging a battle between his mind and heart—or possibly that was just wishful thinking on Owen’s part.

“Turk, please, why are you doing this? I don’t understand. Wayne…He was here with me, in the hospital. He’s got to be worried. Please, just let me out of here.” Owen was tired and terrified and he just wanted out of the psycho world he’d crashed into.
A momentary softening of Turk’s expression made Owen hope, however Malcolm snarled and stepped up to the bed. “Shut up or I’m going to tape your mouth shut again, demon.”
Owen heard the comical laughter bubble out of him before he realized he was the one laughing. Demon? Did they think he was a demon? Shit, he didn’t even know how to drive! He shook his head. What the fuck’s that got to do with being a demon? he thought. Tears welled in his eyes from his uncontrollable laughter as he contemplated the claim that he was a demon. Shit, he was weak and pathetic and had been sick for so long.
Sick…but not sick.
But he’d been ill countless times and had suffered through chemo while taking drugs to keep him from throwing up and to increase his appetite and to strengthen his immune system (that one had made him sicker than a dog) and it had been a vicious cycle, but…
Owen choked back his laughter, sobering to the reality before him. What had Dr. Celobeen doing to him if not treating him for leukemia? His mother, his step-father, Wayne…They’d all spoken about his leukemia, had talked about the illness at length, had discussed treatments, and had shown Owen articles and fact sheets and…
“We do not even have confirmation of inhabitation.”
“He called me ‘hunter’.”
“We have finally caught the Incubus.”
Owen closed his eyes against the madness infiltrating his brain. The thoughts were preposterous, in the realm of fantasy and bordering on insanity. That’s what was happening...A psychotic break. Hearing voices in his head, being here in this room, dreams of that disembodied voice and Turk…
“I am life. But I am also death.”
Turk’s icy, malicious glare from Owen’s dream stabbed at his chest. He struggled to draw in a deep breath. A cold chill raced up his spine, while sweat popped out on his skin. Owen clenched his teeth at the need to scream and shout at the countless memories assaulting him. He wasn’t a demon. He was human and he was going absolutely bat shit crazy—and was horny as hell at times. Owen had been two steps away from fucking Malcolm and Owen wasn’t even attractive to the man.
“Once I unite with the male, I will be powerful enough to emerge fully. After decades of dark cramped spaces, I will finally come to be.”
Owen clenched his hands together ignoring the restraints cutting into his wrists. The pain was a moment of clarity in his panic driven mind. None of what he’d heard or experienced was true. However, he couldn’t block out the memory of being shoved aside in his own mind by a powerful force. It was a force that had recognized Turk, was fearful of the large man, and pissed off to boot. Owen was sure that if whatever was in his head came forth, there would be a massive knock down drag out fight between it and Turk.
Oh shit, now he was thinking whatever was in his head was real.
“No,” he groaned as a wave of heat smashed into him like a sledgehammer. Fuck, not again. That familiar pressure in his head had him pulling at the restraints to free his hands. His head was going to explode. A sharp pain and he cried out his eyes popping open as he heard the voice in his head again.
“There’s no escaping me. Soon I will emerge and nothing can save you, human.”
“No! Fuck you!” Owen cried as he fought off the fucking demon trying to take over his body.
He had a demon inside of him. Did he need an exorcism? Images from the movie The Exorcist, almost had him chuckling maniacally, but instead a sob tore from his throat. Someone was behind him and then a needle was unceremoniously shoved into his hand again. The icy cold solution flooded his veins as tears coursed down his cheeks along with any hope he’d managed to hold onto.
When he opened his eyes he saw Turk backed up against the door, his expression solemn and his eyes glassy, a juxtaposition to what he really was.  
The hunter.
Owen guessed that made him the prey.
##
Check out the other flashers this week at http://wedbriefsfic.com/

Lily Sawyer Jon KeysNephylim  Shelly SchulzRob ColtonCia Nordwell Victoria AdamsTali SpencerAndrew Q. GordonGrace Duncan  Chris T. KatJulie Lynn Hayes

Wednesday Briefs #13 Diventando: Becoming

Copyright JC Wallace 2013
Welcome to another installment of Diventando: Becoming. If you are new and haven’t read the previous chapters, click on Wednesday Briefs in the left hand column and start with #1. This week’s prompt. Enjoy and feel free to leave a comment.

Incubus? They caught a fucking Incubus? Wait. Wasn’t that some kind of oversexed demon? Didn’t one of Drew’s online games have an Incubus? No, that was a Succubus, the female version of the demon. But still...
They didn’t exist.
Again, Owen wanted to believe that all of this was all some kind of a sick joke. Maybe this was what professors of Mythology found amusing. Nothing about the situation was amusing here and passing the initial horror of the situation, Owen’s anger grew. Not only were these strangers fucking with him, but Turk as well. They’d gone on a date and kissed and now…Someone was going to tell Owen what the fuck was going on or he was going to kick ass! He pulled on the restraints. Okay, maybe he wasn’t kicking anything, but he was going to tell them what he thought of what they were doing.
“Hey,” Owen said. Turk spoke with Dr. Sealy and Malcolm and as usual no one was paying him any attention. “Hey!”
Three sets of eyes turned to Owen, but he was only interested in Turk’s. And once those poignant brown eyes were on him, Owen lost all recall of what he’d wanted to say. Despite the steely hard stare, Turk was warring with himself. Owen could tell a man torn between two truths, and Turk was waging a battle between his mind and heart—or possibly that was just wishful thinking on Owen’s part.

“Turk, please, why are you doing this? I don’t understand. Wayne…He was here with me, in the hospital. He’s got to be worried. Please, just let me out of here.” Owen was tired and terrified and he just wanted out of the psycho world he’d crashed into.
A momentary softening of Turk’s expression made Owen hope, however Malcolm snarled and stepped up to the bed. “Shut up or I’m going to tape your mouth shut again, demon.”
Owen heard the comical laughter bubble out of him before he realized he was the one laughing. Demon? Did they think he was a demon? Shit, he didn’t even know how to drive! He shook his head. What the fuck’s that got to do with being a demon? he thought. Tears welled in his eyes from his uncontrollable laughter as he contemplated the claim that he was a demon. Shit, he was weak and pathetic and had been sick for so long.
Sick…but not sick.
But he’d been ill countless times and had suffered through chemo while taking drugs to keep him from throwing up and to increase his appetite and to strengthen his immune system (that one had made him sicker than a dog) and it had been a vicious cycle, but…
Owen choked back his laughter, sobering to the reality before him. What had Dr. Celobeen doing to him if not treating him for leukemia? His mother, his step-father, Wayne…They’d all spoken about his leukemia, had talked about the illness at length, had discussed treatments, and had shown Owen articles and fact sheets and…
“We do not even have confirmation of inhabitation.”
“He called me ‘hunter’.”
“We have finally caught the Incubus.”
Owen closed his eyes against the madness infiltrating his brain. The thoughts were preposterous, in the realm of fantasy and bordering on insanity. That’s what was happening...A psychotic break. Hearing voices in his head, being here in this room, dreams of that disembodied voice and Turk…
“I am life. But I am also death.”
Turk’s icy, malicious glare from Owen’s dream stabbed at his chest. He struggled to draw in a deep breath. A cold chill raced up his spine, while sweat popped out on his skin. Owen clenched his teeth at the need to scream and shout at the countless memories assaulting him. He wasn’t a demon. He was human and he was going absolutely bat shit crazy—and was horny as hell at times. Owen had been two steps away from fucking Malcolm and Owen wasn’t even attractive to the man.
“Once I unite with the male, I will be powerful enough to emerge fully. After decades of dark cramped spaces, I will finally come to be.”
Owen clenched his hands together ignoring the restraints cutting into his wrists. The pain was a moment of clarity in his panic driven mind. None of what he’d heard or experienced was true. However, he couldn’t block out the memory of being shoved aside in his own mind by a powerful force. It was a force that had recognized Turk, was fearful of the large man, and pissed off to boot. Owen was sure that if whatever was in his head came forth, there would be a massive knock down drag out fight between it and Turk.
Oh shit, now he was thinking whatever was in his head was real.
“No,” he groaned as a wave of heat smashed into him like a sledgehammer. Fuck, not again. That familiar pressure in his head had him pulling at the restraints to free his hands. His head was going to explode. A sharp pain and he cried out his eyes popping open as he heard the voice in his head again.
“There’s no escaping me. Soon I will emerge and nothing can save you, human.”
“No! Fuck you!” Owen cried as he fought off the fucking demon trying to take over his body.
He had a demon inside of him. Did he need an exorcism? Images from the movie The Exorcist, almost had him chuckling maniacally, but instead a sob tore from his throat. Someone was behind him and then a needle was unceremoniously shoved into his hand again. The icy cold solution flooded his veins as tears coursed down his cheeks along with any hope he’d managed to hold onto.
When he opened his eyes he saw Turk backed up against the door, his expression solemn and his eyes glassy, a juxtaposition to what he really was.  
The hunter.
Owen guessed that made him the prey.
##
Check out the other flashers this week at http://wedbriefsfic.com/

Lily Sawyer Jon KeysNephylim  Shelly SchulzRob ColtonCia Nordwell Victoria AdamsTali SpencerAndrew Q. GordonGrace Duncan  Chris T. Kat Julie Lynn Hayes

Waiting for Snow!! A short story part of Christmas Delights by Love Lane Books - Enter to win some great prizes!

  Waiting for Snow Dain is at the end of his proverbial rope. He lost his job, his boyfriend, and his church after one horrifying accident. On Christmas Eve, he is reminded of those loses in a heart breaking confrontation with his father. As Dain is driving, unsure where to go, he meets Jake, the local sheriff. Jake is very interested in Dain, Click here to get your free copy of Christmas Delights!
Enter to win a $10 Amazon voucher as well as a Harrod's teddy bear and a RJ Scott pen by clicking on the link below. In addition, each entry each day earns one go in the final prize draw on the 25th!! Click here to enterYou can enter each day on the post that will appear at one minute past midnight on that day (GMT, London). The contest will run from 00:01 to 23:59 GMT on that day. (P.S. You will have to check how that translates into time where you are.)
Stop by RJ's Blog and check out the other authors featured in the anthology and to learn more about the grand prizes to be given away on Dec 25th (they are awesome!)
    

Wednesday Briefs #13 - Diventando: Becoming

  Copyright JC Wallace 2013 Welcome to another installment of Diventando: Becoming. If you are new and haven’t read the previous chapters, click on Wednesday Briefs in the left hand column and start with #1. Enjoy and feel free to leave a comment.   Owen stared up at Turk. This was worse than a nightmare. Maybe he was hallucinating? But if that were true, wouldn’t Turk be doing something Owen would enjoy? Like kissing him? Nope, not hallucinating because Turk was standing in the door, scowling. His jaw twitched as a war of emotions crossed his face. Owen wanted to speak to him. Ask him what the hell he was doing, but the memories from when the entity had seen Turk were still strong. There had been a feeling of excitement and fear. There had been...recognition. What the fuck had that been all about? Turk continued to point the gun at Owen as he stepped into the room. He never turned away from Owen, never took his eyes off of him as if at any moment Owen would attack. Owen tracked Turk with his eyes, not moving a muscle for fear of...of what? Turk shooting him? The thought was preposterous! If anyone had told Owen any of what had happened that day was in his future, he would have laughed aloud. Now, he wasn’t sure what to do. In all seriousness, he wanted to scream and cry and howl his rage, however he was mentally and physically exhausted. The floor was hard and cold yet Owen wasn’t sure he could move to save his life at that point. Turk stopped at the table beside the bed. Opening a drawer, he pulled out a pair of restraints, apparently familiar with the placement of things in the room. Owen didn’t have to guess who those were for. The hard expression on Turk’s face belied the jovial, warmth he had bestowed on Owen in the past. “Here,” Turk said and tossed the restraints across the room to Malcolm who hadn’t moved from the corner. He was afraid of Owen. No. He’s afraid of what’s inside of you. A shudder wracked Owen’s body. Every bone and muscle ached. His cheek throbbed where Malcom had struck him and he knew it would bruise. His head ached and his eyes burned. The cold in his body was overwhelming and all encompassing, however, despite all of it, his entire attention was on Turk who was indifferent and cold. Owen likened him to a hardened soldier fighting a war and that thought freaked Owen out even more. Malcolm stepped up beside Owen and knelt down. Roughly, the nurse pushed Owen into a sitting position then grabbed one of Owen’s wrists and yanked harder than necessary to position his arm behind his back. Owen hissed at the pain in his shoulder. Turk frowned and opened his mouth as if to say something but quickly snapped it shut. Was he going to say something about Malcolm hurting Owen? If so, he’d quickly stopped any concern for Owen from showing.  Malcolm pulled Owen’s other wrist behind his back and secured them with the restraints.  “Get him back on the bed,” Turk said and stepped back to make way. Each time Malcolm tried to heft Owen from the floor, Owen’s legs buckled. His muscles were useless from whatever drug the dart had pushed into his system. With his hands stuffed into Owen’s armpits, Malcolm grunted and huffed as he continually tried to lift Owen from the floor. Each time Owen hit the floor with a thud, pain shooting into his knees and hips. The man was useless and it appeared that Turk was coming to the same conclusion. Scowling, Turk stalked to Owen and shoved Malcom away.  “Hey,” Malcolm protested but a growl from Turk stopped all sound from the man. Turk shoved the gun back into his holster and without pretense reached down and hoisted Owen effortlessly off the floor. Owen gasped at the speed and then at the feel of Turk’s hands on his body. Sense memories flooded him from their kiss at Otter Creek. The tenderness of Turk’s touches, the need and desire...Had all of their times together been a farce? Was Turk part of some cult or weird group who experimented on people? What had he said he specialized in at the college? Folklore and mythology. Oh shit, had they put something inside of him? One of their demi gods or performed some sort of voodoo on him? Turk dropped him onto the bed and Owen rolled onto his side to avoid lying on his bound hands. His internal temperature seemed to be rising slowly. Being cold sucked and he wished for an electric blanket. Here he’d be lucky if he got a regular one.  Turk sighed heavily and ran a hand over the curls on top of his head. The sigh said more about Turk’s turmoil than any words he could have spoken. Turk lifted his head and his eyes were on Malcolm.  “What the hell?” Turk growled. He was large and intimidating in his black fatigues, the same as the men who’d escorted him there had been wearing.  “Hey, I just do what I’m told,” Malcolm barked back, however Owen could hear an underlying tremble in his voice. At that moment Dr. Sealy walked in the room, her steps tentative until she spied Owen trussed up on the bed.  “Well, Daniel, I see you have the situation under control.” Daniel? “What the fuck were you thinking?” Turk bellowed. “It was two feet away from gaining the power needed to reach a corporeal state.” She raised her chin in a show of defiance. “First, I am the lead on this team and I will make the decisions concerning testing. And second, we do not even have confirmation of inhabitation.” Inhabitation? Okay, this shit was getting fucking weird and Owen wanted to say something, anything. But when he tried to move his mouth, the uncoordinated action came out like a mumble that no one seemed to hear. Turk pursed his lips and took a menacing step toward Dr. Sealy. “He called me ‘hunter’.” Her eyes widened as the color faded from her face. Her hand went to her throat and she nervously twisted a gold chain that she wore.
“I want this ward locked down and the other subjects moved to Section B,” Turk said with a commanding tone. “No one gets in or out. We have finally caught the Incubus.”  ## Check out the other flashers this week at http://wedbriefsfic.com/  

Wednesday Briefs #12 - Diventando: Becoming

  Copyright JC Wallace 2013 Welcome to another installment of Diventando: Becoming. If you are new and haven’t read the previous chapters, click on Wednesday Briefs in the left hand column and start with #1. Enjoy and feel free to leave a comment.   Owen stared up at Turk. This was worse than a nightmare. Maybe he was hallucinating? But if that were true, wouldn’t Turk be doing something Owen would enjoy? Like kissing him? Nope, not hallucinating because Turk was standing in the door, scowling. His jaw twitched as a war of emotions crossed his face. Owen wanted to speak to him. Ask him what the hell he was doing, but the memories from when the entity had seen Turk were still strong. There had been a feeling of excitement and fear. There had been...recognition. What the fuck had that been all about? Turk continued to point the gun at Owen as he stepped into the room. He never turned away from Owen, never took his eyes off of him as if at any moment Owen would attack. Owen tracked Turk with his eyes, not moving a muscle for fear of...of what? Turk shooting him? The thought was preposterous! If anyone had told Owen any of what had happened that day was in his future, he would have laughed aloud. Now, he wasn’t sure what to do. In all seriousness, he wanted to scream and cry and howl his rage, however he was mentally and physically exhausted. The floor was hard and cold yet Owen wasn’t sure he could move to save his life at that point. Turk stopped at the table beside the bed. Opening a drawer, he pulled out a pair of restraints, apparently familiar with the placement of things in the room. Owen didn’t have to guess who those were for. The hard expression on Turk’s face belied the jovial, warmth he had bestowed on Owen in the past. “Here,” Turk said and tossed the restraints across the room to Malcolm who hadn’t moved from the corner. He was afraid of Owen. No. He’s afraid of what’s inside of you. A shudder wracked Owen’s body. Every bone and muscle ached. His cheek throbbed where Malcom had struck him and he knew it would bruise. His head ached and his eyes burned. The cold in his body was overwhelming and all encompassing, however, despite all of it, his entire attention was on Turk who was indifferent and cold. Owen likened him to a hardened soldier fighting a war and that thought freaked Owen out even more. Malcolm stepped up beside Owen and knelt down. Roughly, the nurse pushed Owen into a sitting position then grabbed one of Owen’s wrists and yanked harder than necessary to position his arm behind his back. Owen hissed at the pain in his shoulder. Turk frowned and opened his mouth as if to say something but quickly snapped it shut. Was he going to say something about Malcolm hurting Owen? If so, he’d quickly stopped any concern for Owen from showing.  Malcolm pulled Owen’s other wrist behind his back and secured them with the restraints.  “Get him back on the bed,” Turk said and stepped back to make way. Each time Malcolm tried to heft Owen from the floor, Owen’s legs buckled. His muscles were useless from whatever drug the dart had pushed into his system. With his hands stuffed into Owen’s armpits, Malcolm grunted and huffed as he continually tried to lift Owen from the floor. Each time Owen hit the floor with a thud, pain shooting into his knees and hips. The man was useless and it appeared that Turk was coming to the same conclusion. Scowling, Turk stalked to Owen and shoved Malcom away.  “Hey,” Malcolm protested but a growl from Turk stopped all sound from the man. Turk shoved the gun back into his holster and without pretense reached down and hoisted Owen effortlessly off the floor. Owen gasped at the speed and then at the feel of Turk’s hands on his body. Sense memories flooded him from their kiss at Otter Creek. The tenderness of Turk’s touches, the need and desire...Had all of their times together been a farce? Was Turk part of some cult or weird group who experimented on people? What had he said he specialized in at the college? Folklore and mythology. Oh shit, had they put something inside of him? One of their demi gods or performed some sort of voodoo on him? Turk dropped him onto the bed and Owen rolled onto his side to avoid lying on his bound hands. His internal temperature seemed to be rising slowly. Being cold sucked and he wished for an electric blanket. Here he’d be lucky if he got a regular one.  Turk sighed heavily and ran a hand over the curls on top of his head. The sigh said more about Turk’s turmoil than any words he could have spoken. Turk lifted his head and his eyes were on Malcolm.  “What the hell?” Turk growled. He was large and intimidating in his black fatigues, the same as the men who’d escorted him there had been wearing.  “Hey, I just do what I’m told,” Malcolm barked back, however Owen could hear an underlying tremble in his voice. At that moment Dr. Sealy walked in the room, her steps tentative until she spied Owen trussed up on the bed.  “Well, Daniel, I see you have the situation under control.” Daniel? “What the fuck were you thinking?” Turk bellowed. “It was two feet away from gaining the power needed to reach a corporeal state.” She raised her chin in a show of defiance. “First, I am the lead on this team and I will make the decisions concerning testing. And second, we do not even have confirmation of inhabitation.” Inhabitation? Okay, this shit was getting fucking weird and Owen wanted to say something, anything. But when he tried to move his mouth, the uncoordinated action came out like a mumble that no one seemed to hear. Turk pursed his lips and took a menacing step toward Dr. Sealy. “He called me ‘hunter’.” Her eyes widened as the color faded from her face. Her hand went to her throat and she nervously twisted a gold chain that she wore.
“I want this ward locked down and the other subjects moved to Section B,” Turk said with a commanding tone. “No one gets in or out. We have finally caught the Incubus.”  ## Check out the other flashers this week at http://wedbriefsfic.com/  

Sue Brown!!! OMG Sue Brown here!! And she has A Cock in the Window!!!

Yes, I am totally freaking out because Sue Brown, one of my favorite authors is here for her blog tour. Welcome, Sue and take it away!!  Sue Brown’s A COCK IN THE WINDOW Blog Tour



Hello, my name is Kit Stone and so we reach the final couple of stops before Sue Brown releases me on an unsuspecting world on Friday 20th December. I’m Kit and my boyfriend is Steve. Think of us as Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie (I’m Brad, Steve is Angelina. Oy, stop hitting me, Steve!). I own a shabby gift shop in a seaside town which hasn’t made it into the twentieth century and I hand carve the cocks of gorgeous porn stars for a hobby. That’s how I met Steve. He spotted his dick in the window of my shop and the rest is history.
 It’s almost Christmas (Sue told me never to mention that word in front of her again. If she denies its existence then she won’t have to decorate the house, or buy presents or cook Christmas dinner). I tell her she is a Grinch. I like Christmas, I don’t have to deal with the public for two whole days. Steve points out this makes me the Grinch. I tell him he can stop flapping his lips and put his mouth to better use. No, that isn’t a euphemism.
 Anyway, to make us all feel better… a couple of Christmas dicks.
       

What were you expecting? The real thing?

Sorry, guys, I’m strictly PG-13 outside the bedroom.
When all the book sellers started yanking books with erotic covers and content left, right and centre (thanks to the storm in a teacup created by the Daily Mail) the gorgeous Alexa Corza made several covers for Sue as alternatives to the ‘cock’ version. This is going to be the new cover. *fingers crossed the title can stay the same*

  Because Sue’s almost at the point of picking the winner, she’s told me to point out that the winner gets the ‘cock’ cover, rather than the ‘chicken cover’ but you can ask for the tamer version if you’d prefer.
  


 
Excerpt:
I take the opportunity to do another half an hour on the edit from hell. A couple of potential customers come in and I smile briefly, leaving them to wander around.
“Sweetheart, you can’t buy one of those for Grandma. Why don’t you buy her a Union Jack ashtray?”
In the middle of trying to make a paragraph resemble English, my attention is distracted by a woman and her late teenage daughter standing near the cocks.
“Because she doesn’t smoke and she’d much rather have one of these.”
“It’s a… it’s a….”
“Penis, Mum. You can say the word. You won’t explode. Gran’ll love it. She’ll put it on the mantelpiece next to the picture of Liam and Sam.”
“Kylie Owens, you shut your mouth. Grandma is a good woman.”
I watch the teenage roll her eyes and bite my cheeks not to giggle.
“Mum, you want to make Grandma’s day, buy her one of these. She’s got a room full of dusty crap. Buy her the big black one. Sam’ll find it hysterical. He’ll probably want to borrow it.”
The woman went so red I thought she really was going to explode. I kept my head down whilst they carried on bickering.
“I brought you a cuppa,” Steve said, handing me a cup of tea.
“Cheers.”
 “Are you okay? You’re kind of red in the face.”
“I’ll explain later,” I say, tilting my head towards the customers.
The teenager stares at me and then at Steve, and then her eyes open and they shoot to the sandalwood cock. Christ, what was she doing watching gay porn?
“We’re getting this one,” she says, ignoring the black cock in favour of Steve’s.
Embarrassment and conflict is clear on Steve’s face. Oblivious to the byplay, Kylie’s mother continues to fuss until Kylie stomps over to Steve, not me, and asks sweetly for it to be wrapped, staring at him so predatorily, I want to get between them and tell her to back the fuck off.
 Steve thrusts it at me and flees back up the stairs. I wrap the cock in tissue paper, making sure the shape is very obvious.
Kylie is obviously disappointed at Steve’s rapid exit but she beckons to her mother. “Pay the man, Mum. I’ll search for something for Dad.”
“Dear God, buy the bloody ashtray for Dad. If you get him anything like this he’ll have a heart attack.”
“Ewww, gross. I’d never buy anything like this for him. He can have the ship in a bottle.”
I felt rather sorry for the man, thinking he was going to be short-changed in the deal.
After they left I went to the bottom of the stairs.
“You can come down now. It’s safe.”
Steve appeared at the top, relief on his face. “I made a tit of myself, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, but don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you.”
“It was just… she’s a girl.”
“Yeah? So?”
“She knew it was mine.”
I pat his arm. “Steve, I hate to break it to you but girls watch porn too.”
 ~~~~

Sue can be found at her website, http://www.suebrownstories.com/; her blog,http://suebrownsstories.blogspot.co.uk/; Twitter, https://twitter.com/suebrownstories; and her Facebook, https://www.facebook.com/suebrownstories.
 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The blog tour finishes at  http://ukgayromance.co.uk/  on Friday 20th December and prizes will be drawn at 10pm GMT. Leave a comment with your email address here or anywhere along the blog tour to take part.

My previous stops on the tour were at:
·         6th Dec. Sue Brown
·         7th Dec. Talon PS
·         8th Dec. Lou Sylvre
·         10th Dec. Sara York
·         11th Dec. Patricia Logan
·         12th Dec. Clare London
 
My next stop is on Sunday 15th December at: Lisa Worrall
 
PRIZES 

1st Prize – Wooden Cock
Plus a copy of A Cock in the Window with original cover (mobi, epub or PDF)
Plus $10 Amazon gift voucher
 
2nd prize – Wooden Cock
Plus a copy of A Cock in the Window with original cover (mobi, epub or PDF)
 
3rd Prize x3
A copy of A Cock in the Window with original cover (mobi, epub or PDF)
 
 
 

Wednesday Briefs #12 Diventando: Becoming

Copyright JC Wallace 2013
 
Welcome to another installment of Diventando: Becoming. If you are new and haven’t read the previous chapters, click on Wednesday Briefs in the left hand column and start with #1. This week’s prompt: it's a matter of life and death. Enjoy and feel free to leave a comment.
  
The voice continued to speak in Owen’s head, spouting words of freedom and denial and satisfaction due after a decade of being bound to a weak soul. The same voice from his dream that had claimed to be life. If this was life then why did it feel as if he were dying? The heat, boiling like a volcanic core, spread from deep inside, pushing outward, paving the way for...
“Finally, I will live.” 
With the rush of heat came a need so enormous that the vast want barely fit within his skin. Lust and desire hit him like a fist to the gut. Owen hissed through his teeth, as his cock grew painfully hard. Terrified by the swelling tide, which loomed over him, Owen knew he would drown and be lost forever when that wave broke over him. Something or someone was trying to come forth from within and gain control over his very essence, pushing him aside to live within his body. Owen felt as if he was fighting a losing battle.  
Owen pleaded with his eyes to Dr. Sealy or Malcom, begging them for help or even pity, but they paid little attention to him. To them he wasn’t a human being. He was a thing to do with what they wanted. They had to know what they were doing to him. How could they keep torturing him? What did they want him to do? He tried to scream and cry and rant the injustice, but his voice was trapped behind the tape.

Despite all of that, what terrified him the most? He wanted to fuck someone...anyone. The yearning to find his pleasure and satisfaction was pressing down on him with a suffocating weight. The need as great as any addiction, maybe greater. Owen pulled on the restraints with strength that increased with each minute. Blood pooled and ran across his skin where the straps were bound around his wrists and ankles. A creaking groan of metal and the sound of leather stretching told Owen that soon he’d be free.
Owen shrieked at the heated flaying of his skin and finally the tape on his mouth let loose. The inhuman scream that rent the air in the tiny room had Malcom fighting to place more tape over Owen’s mouth unsuccessfully.
Another metallic groan and one of the straps holding Owen’s feet let loose. Malcom and Dr. Sealy scrambled back. Owen sucked in a deep breath and pulled at his other leg and that strap snapped as well.
“Switch the IV!” Dr. Sealy yelled at Malcolm as she backed towards the door.
Wide-eyed with panic, Malcolm shook his head. “You change the fucking IV.”
Owen sniffed the air. He smelled musk and sweat and male...Owen eyed Malcolm with what he was sure was a predatory gaze, and the voice in his head hummed in satisfaction. Owen continued to work the straps, as power coursed into his muscles.
The primal part of his brain was totally on board with the foreign invader’s goal of taking Malcolm and owning him. It didn’t matter who Malcolm was. It didn’t matter that he meant nothing to Owen. What mattered was Malcolm was male and human and possessed something the talky thing in his head coveted. What that was Owen didn’t know.
What Owen did know was that he was no longer in control of his body. He was a bystander; and once he was free from the restraints, he’d be helpless to stop what he knew was going to happen. Not only would he be fucking Malcolm, but owning the man as well, body and soul, and, oh, what the hell did that mean?

Another pop of metal and Owen’s left hand was free. Dr. Sealy squeaked in fear and yanked open the door, slamming it shut behind her. With the click of the lock, Malcolm started to scream and pound on the door, trapped with Owen and the monster invading his mind and body. Soon, there would be nothing left of Owen.
“This is true,” the voice said spouting the nefarious truth. “Once I unite with the male, I will be powerful enough to emerge fully. After decades of dark cramped spaces, I will finally come to be.”
No. Leave me alone. Get out!
A low and ominous chuckle echoed through Owen’s head, into his muscles and bones, into the very seat of consciousness, which he was quickly losing. Metal groaned and cracked and his right arm was free. Owen felt his tongue lick around his lips, as the entity stared at Malcolm. Oh, God, was he going to eat the man? That would be fucking gross.
With no further influence over his body, Owen was relegated to a tiny corner in his mind. What had the voice said?  Decades of dark cramped spaces. Panic ensued with the thought of living his life at the whim of the entity. This wasn’t a matter of life or death. It was a matter of living as a prisoner in his own mind.

Owen’s body jumped off the gurney with surprising grace. As if checking out a new body, the entity stretched the arms, twisted the waist and rolled the head. He drew Owen’s mouth up in an evil grin and Owen heard his voice say, “Fits nice.”

Well, fucking great for the monster!

Malcolm slid along the wall and shoved himself into the corner, still yelling for someone to get his ass out of the room. If he didn’t get out, his ass was going to get Owen’s hard, dripping cock because the monster in his head was horny as hell.
“Your power will set me free,” Owen heard his voice growl as the entity started for Malcolm.

The door to the room flew open catching the monster’s attention. A large man stood in the door, an impressive gun raised against his shoulder and aimed straight at Owen. The man’s face was hidden behind the gun’s huge scope.
“Hunter!” the monster screeched.
A surge of anger and fear from the entity clouded Owen’s thoughts as his body lunged toward the man. A hard blow hit Owen’s shoulder and his body stumbled backward. The entity looked down and Owen saw a tranquillizer dart buried in his chest. Immediately, the icy cold sensation he’d felt as the first IV solution had filtered under his skin, reaching into his arms and torso then his legs. The burning heat that had come with the entity cooled and Owen’s muscles started shivering.
“No!” he heard his voice scream aloud. Then the entity’s voice was back in his head, bellowing about injustice and revenge as Owen expanded to reclaim control over his mind and body. The man slowly lowered the gun, and Owen gasped in surprise as he fell to his knees. He would have cried with elation if he could have.
Turk.
Owen forced out the words. “Turk, please help me,” he whispered as he collapsed onto his side, his coordination and equilibrium still lacking.
Turk stood frozen, mouth gaping, eyes glued in disbelief to Owen where he laid on the floor. Turk was shocked.
Turk had a gun.  
Turk had shot him with a dart.

Turk dropped the massive dart gun to the floor and reached into the holster on his belt, pulling out a handgun. Despite the stony expression, Owen was sure Turk’s brown eyes were swimming with pain. Pointing the weapon at Owen, Turk said, “Don’t move.”
##


Check out the other flashers this week at http://wedbriefsfic.com/




Christmas Delights is #1 of Goodreads M/M Christmas Books list!!

I am so excited about this anthology and now it is in the #1 spot on the Goodreads M/M Christmas Books list! If you haven't downloaded your copy yet, which of course is free, get yours now and get into the Christmas spirit! 
Check out the blog dedicated to Christmas Delights. Here you will find info on each author and buy links. http://christmasantho.weebly.com/

Welcome John Keys!! Author of Heart of the Pines

 

Thank goodness it’s Friday! Thanks for having me as a guest, JC. I’m here to share Heart of the Pines, which was released on December 1 as part of Dreamspinner’s Advent Calendar.
I thought I’d tell a little story from my childhood to set the mood for the holidays. I was pretty young, and at a friends riding horses. We were young, 5th or 6th grade and several kids had ponies. By the way, are Shetlands always mean, or is it just my luck? Anyway, I digress. One of my buddies had a beautiful Paint, not a pony either, a small horse. So he was king of cool. What can I say I was ten or so. I was helping put on the saddle while he was putting on the bridle and a few strategic errors happened.
First off, I didn’t pay enough attention to what I was doing. Second, my friend should have watched me closer. Oh, and it would have helped if he’d told me his horse held her breath to keep you from getting the cinch tight…
Yes, you’ve figured it out. The two of us climbed into the saddle, me behind, and off we go. Now, I’m holding on, to my friend and the horse. But some odd things started happening. Gradually, oh so slowly, the saddle started leaning to the right. The horse moved to a trot, and a trot with no stirrups is not fun anyway. But we were leaning to the side, further with each step because the mare had managed to keep me from getting the cinch tight.
Well I didn’t last much longer. There was a nice soft looking gopher mound coming up, and I dove for it. I think I managed to hit it dead center, probably head first. So here was this cotton-top kid sitting in the pasture while the others rode past grinning at me. Actually, I think I was laughing too. Probably just happy to have not broken my fool neck.
My buddy?
He was still in the saddle.
Sideways.
There’s one in every crowd.
Okay, so maybe it was more a Jon story than a holiday story. But hopefully you got a little smile and enjoyed it. Just like I hope you enjoy Heart of the Pines.
See, I did bring it back together.
~ Jon ~
 
blurb
Christmas is the worst time of the year to find yourself alone. Chris Moss, owner of a tree farm, knows this down to his bones as he makes his way through his first holiday season after losing his wife to cancer. When Wade Hart, an annual customer at the farm, visits, they find common ground: Wade lost his own longtime lover to a parting of ways and is lonely too. The constant, gentle companionship provides fertile soil for an attraction neither expects, but nurturing a new relationship is a tough proposition. With the encouragement of family and friends, Chris and Wade may yet find that a second love later in life can be just as fulfilling as the first.
 Excerptfrom Heart of the Pines.
Jets of steamy breath shot from Wade’s nostrils as he struggled to drag the enormous Christmas tree across the loose Michigan snow. The bells on Chris’s Santa hat jingled merrily as he hurried out to help his friend pull the tree up the final hillock to the barn.
“Here, let me give you a hand.” Stepping along the slowing tree, Chris wrapped a glove-covered hand around a branch and lent his strength to the effort.
Wade nodded and smiled. “Thanks, it’s a little much by myself.”
“No problem, happy to help. Looks like you got a beaut,” said Chris.
Wade pulled off his knit hat and wiped the perspiration from his head. “It’s a good one. I think I’ve covered your whole farm, several times, to find the perfect tree.”
They pulled the tree into the work area and hoisted it onto the sawbuck. “Want me to trim it up for you?”
“Sure. One less thing I’ll have to do.” Wade laid the handsaw he’d used on the table behind them, then tugged his thick cap on while Chris made a few quick cuts with the chainsaw to ready the tree for his stand. The roar of the saw faded, and Chris struggled for a few minutes as he tried to push the tree into the netting. As he began his second attempt, Wade woke from his stupor and grabbed the other side of the tree.
“Sorry, I’m a little spacey today,” said Wade.
With his help, Chris slid the tree into the tube of netting, getting it ready for Wade’s SUV. “No problem. It’s a huge tree. I hope Jeff will be around to help you unload.”
Wade folded his arms over his chest, a pained look on his face. “Jeff moved out. Last week. I thought makin’ our annual trip to your farm for a tree would keep me from thinkin’ about it.” Wade turned his head and let out a shuddering sigh. “I guess it’s not ‘our’ trip anymore.”
Chris gave Wade’s shoulder a squeeze. “Sorry to hear that. You guys always seemed happy together. Jeff was always cutting up and flirting with Mary.” I haven’t forgotten you attended her funeral.
“It happens. I guess we lasted longer than a lot of couples. Ten years isn’t bad.” Wade’s fingers ran over one of the fir boughs edging the barn windows. “It was good in the beginning, like newlyweds. Jeff loved our loft in Chicago. But ever since we moved to Traverse City, the relationship had slowly gone downhill. Our business downtown was an attempt to find something to keep Jeff happy.”
The pain in Wade’s eyes sparked a wave of bitter nostalgia for Chris. He missed Mary so desperately some days. She always was the caretaker of the family, even when they got the diagnosis of stage-four cancer; she still took care of everyone else until it was impossible for her to keep doing it. He turned to the barn behind them, pulled off the Santa hat, and held it tight in his hands as the frigid air gusted through his short white hair.
The farm was always beautiful this time of year, the ground covered with crystalline flakes in a white carpet that extended to the steps of the house, which he kept carefully swept. He hadn’t changed anything since Mary died. It had been more difficult in the summer when the beds that hugged the foundation of their house were ablaze with flowers Mary had planted and nursed through the years. The winter covering had been a blessed relief, but his heart still ached at the lack of holiday decorations. Mary had loved the season, and given half a chance, she covered everything within striking distance with lights. Without her, the trimmings just hadn’t mattered.
He shook himself and focused on finishing with Wade’s tree. He tied the bottom of the netting and turned to Wade. “There you go. All bundled and ready to put in that great foyer you have.”
“Not so grand this year. It’s kind of tough to get into the spirit of the season.”
Chris gave Wade a sympathetic smile. “It could be worse….”
Realization hit Wade. “Oh my God! I can’t believe I’ve been such an ass. This is your first Christmas alone. I’m so sorry, Chris. I feel awful.”
“It’s not your fault. It’s been almost a year since her funeral. It’s ancient history to most people.” Although it seems like yesterday to me. I can still feel her soft hand in mine as we picnicked on one of Lake Michigan’s sugar sand beaches on our first date, playing in the chilly crystal clear water. Even then, she’d taken care of everything and had the perfect lunch basket packed.
“Yeah, but Mary always said Christmas was her favorite time of the year.”
“It was, and I haven’t felt like doing much. It’s a lot more work to take care of the farm alone too. But the income for the whole year happens in the next month or so. Doesn’t leave me with many choices.” Chris smiled at Wade. “Bad thing about a Christmas tree farm, firs just aren’t that tasty.”
Wade gave a nod, and then his eyes lit up. “Hey, what if I do it? I’ve helped Mary put up the decorations before. It’ll keep me busy, and Santa’s Tree Farm needs to look more festive than either of us feels.”
Chris couldn’t help but smile at the sudden enthusiasm. “If you’d like, that would be great. I just can’t face the stuff. Too many memories.”
“Southern boy to the rescue! I got this covered.” Wade clapped his hand on Chris’s bicep and squeezed it. Chris found a comfort from the contact that surprised him. Mary’s touch had always had that unique ability to soothe him. Some nights its absence had left him curled around her pillow with tears streaming down his face.
Chris fished a ring of keys from his pocket, flipped through them, and held one out for Wade. “This unlocks the storage padlock. Anything you want to do would be great. I have a few customers wandering around looking for trees. I better go check on them.”
Chris raced through the light snowfall while Wade started for the storage building. 

eBook Link:  http://tinyurl.com/poamkye 
 Bio:
Jon Keys’ earliest memories revolve around books; with the first ones he can recall reading himself being “The Warlord of Mars” and anything with Tarzan. (The local library wasn’t particularly up to date.) But as puberty set in he started sneaking his mother’s romance magazines and added the world of romance and erotica to his mix of science fiction, fantasy, and comic books.
A voracious reader for almost half a century, Jon has only recently begun creating his own flights of fiction for the entertainment of others. Born in the Southwest and now living in the Midwest, Jon has worked as a ranch hand, teacher, computer tech, roughneck, designer, retail clerk, welder, artist, and, yes, pool boy; with interests ranging from kayaking and hunting to painting and cooking, he draws from a wide range of life experiences to create written works that draw the reader in and wrap them in a good story.
E-mail: jon.keys@ymail.comBlog: http://jonkeys.com/Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jon.keys.773

Twitter: @Jon4Keys