I manage to use the time productively. I organize the entire shop and prepare all of tomorrow’s special orders, but I’m supposed to be busy selling ice cream, not mopping behind the freezers on a sunny summer day. I even arrange theStar Trekaction figures on the display case into new poses.
The only bright spot comes when I see a new email from my anonymous pen pal and creative collaborator. Glad for something to look forward to, I resist the urge to read the message in the back of the shop, saving it for later instead.
When I step onto the street at the end of the day, it sounds as though there’s a jackhammer competition in the garage. Like everyone else, I end up veering the long way around.
I return to my one-bedroom apartment off the park, sink into the red recliner, and kick back with a cup of tea. The stressful day calls for me to get lost in some fun escapism, so I quickly pull up the new message from NotAnOgre. In addition to our regular friendly emails, this message includes the next chapter in our ongoing creative collaboration. An excited smile fills my face as I wiggle down in the chair with my laptop to read.
I have a confession: I wrote this chapter in a gas station bathroom. Don’t get any ideas. Nothing inappropriate (not in the bathroom at least, just in the story). But inspiration struck when I was washing my hands, and I stood right there to draft out the plot points on my phone before the idea slipped away.
I know you appreciate random acts of creative inspiration. Or maybe I’ve just been on the road too long this week. You’d think a person would never get sick of gas station hot dogs. You’d be wrong.
Anyway, hope you enjoy the story as much as I enjoyed writing it. It’s about to get steamy.
I grin as I pull open the story, an erotic fantasy featuring Lark, a fae prince trying to make his way in New York City, and Relix, a half-vampire motorcycle outlaw. We tend to update the ongoing saga every week or so, and last time, after Relix tried to ambush Lark, the powerful fae was able to bind the half-vampire instead. Now together on a Manhattan rooftop, they’re finally having it out, and I read with delight when Lark reveals the prophecy behind his birth, spilling the beans that he’s destined to hunt the vampires and destroy their empire. Relix only laughs, however, and announces that he also carries a prophecy: he’s going to fuck a fae prince, and it will tear the dimensional divide asunder.
“Ohhhhhh!” I hum to myself in the recliner, excited. “Double prophecy!”
Immediately, I go back to the beginning, reading over the latest addition to our ongoing story, savoring every detail. The problems from the gayborhood finally leave my mind, far away from the fantasy.
It’s been almost three years since NotAnOgre and I met on a discussion board for a moderately popular fantasy televisionseries. What had been an enjoyable run came apart in the final episode with a glaring plot inconsistency, ruining the entire thing after I’d been invested for months. When I went online to see if anyone else on the discussion board noticed, there was only one comment about it.
NotAnOgre: If the Maximus Curse can destroy the Dragon Queen, why did they journey to the Forbidden Bog in the first place?
Me: Precisely!
That’s all I said.Precisely!The only comment I made after months of lurking.
Then NotAnOgre liked my comment. And I looked at his back posts, sophisticated and entertaining takes on plot and my favorite characters. I liked a couple of his comments, and the next morning, a message appeared in my account.
NotAnOgre: Glad someone else has the common sense to mock the Snake-Fingered Wizard.
Me: What is up with those snake hands? They’re creepy and useless.
NotAnOgre: More than useless. They’re a vulnerability. How many times did they make that poor guy drop his spell book?
Our conversation about the show sprawled out into other media, long discussions about what we loved and what we hated, with plenty of agreement but plenty of disagreement, too. We shared some basic facts about our lives, like that we’re both gay, and that we live in the United States and are working people, busy with our careers. He called himself a “big white guy in myearly thirties,” and I told him that I’m a Black geek of about the same age.
Somewhere in there, we also acknowledged that we’re both fans of erotic sci-fi and fantasy, epic paranormal romance series, and indulgent fan fiction. Although how we got from there to writing our own stories, I’m still not sure, except that we had already decided months earlier that together, we could come up with something spectacular.
After a pleased sip of tea, I settle in to write my response, starting with the friendly note that always precedes the creative contribution.
Please don’t tell me how many gas station hot dogs you’ve eaten this week. You’ve exhibited questionable taste before (I’m still reeling from your full-throatedSharknadodefense), but you deserve better than those weenies on the treadmill.
Love the new chapter. I had a day that I’ve decided to call productive, and this is exactly what I need to relax at the end of it. I’ll write back with my next contribution soon (maybe even tonight—I’m feeling inspired, too).
I read over the story again, then start typing away with a smile on my face. These emails might be no more than geeky smut with an anonymous stranger, but they’re special to me, and they’re totally detached from all the biker garage drama, too.
And with Relix bound and Lark shirtless, we’re getting into the good stuff.
