Whew! The long drought in my wrestling fiction has broken. It wasn’t writer’s block or melancholy interrupting the creative flow. It was brutal, exhausting, largely unpaid “real” work stealing my best creative juices. Thankfully, the juices are spilling again into my preferred past-time of writing homoerotic wrestling fiction.
A co-author helped me sketch this match out months ago. In it, we meet some of the executive assistants from rival titans around the globe, including big British brute, David Gandy, who, it turns out, seems to me to be seriously lacking a sense of humor.
It also introduces Toronto-based executive assistant Noah Mills. Noah is one of those guys who has a little too much testosterone for his own good. No imagined slight or social faux pas can go unchallenged with unbridled physical confrontation for Noah. Clearly, he’s in the right man’s homoerotic wrestling imagination.
The boys are out at a club when Noah spills some of his drink as a result of getting bumped by buzzed skater hunk, Mateus Verdelho. Push comes to shove, quite literally. Shirts are ripped off, and that inevitable crowd of enablers spills out into the back alley behind the two of them to watch the sport.
Turns out, not only is Noah hyped up on testosterone. He also fights dirty. While in some crowds this would earn him major points, the club crowd this night turns on Noah for his underhanded, below-the-belt tactics. Big, beautiful blond hunk Tyler McPeak can’t stand it any longer, and he rushes into the fray to even the score and teach Noah the consequences of taking shortcuts.
The details are over at Producer’s Ring, but things turn cocks-out and brutal, with two pretty boys shelved in the dumpsters with the rotting club food, and two others licking each others wounds with enthusiasm. My thanks to Metellus for carrying the water farther than he really should have had to, and for being infinitely patient with my “I’m just about to get down to writing again!” excuses.