Ed & Marchant
A Novella in Frankie's Series
Frankie & Al was written for laughs. I can't deny it. Frankie Mason is over the top, fun and drives his boss absolutely mad. Frankie is out and proud and everything that Ed Winters despises. Frankie describes his boss as a 1950s Tory poster boy. He dislikes women, black people, anyone from the Indian subcontinent, curry, the French, the Irish, dogs, and particularly hom-o-sex-uals.
Ed's a total dick, Frankie's arch-nemesis. So why did I want to write about him? I felt sorry for Ed. There had to be a reason he's such an wanker. Of course there is. It just takes a special man to crack the ice surrounding Ed's heart. By man, I mean hard-assed Dom.
Ed Winters despises his job and hates everyone he works with—especially out and proud, happily in love Frankie Mason. He spends his days wishing he could dance, rather than work.
Late to go shopping one day, Ed ends up soaked in Marchant Belarus’s spilled Coke. Ed’s humiliation increases when Marchant, the owner of a BDSM club, realizes Ed is a sub, albeit a very closeted one. Marchant’s attempts to draw Ed out of his shell release years of pent-up anger and hurt over the abuse Ed’s mother and grandmother heaped on him.
Marchant is patient, but nothing he does seems to help until he discovers Ed’s secret love of dancing—a forbidden passion that might be the key to unlocking the confident, secure man Ed could be.
In this excerpt Ed has had Coke thrown over him, been forced into having a drink with Marchant and met his arch-nemesis just as he's having a melt-down.
Ed reached the end of his patience. “Thank you for the drink, but I have to do my shopping now.”
“We can go around together,” Marchant said cheerfully.
“I don’t want to go around with you,” Ed said, aware he sounded petty and childish. “I have a routine.”
Marchant raised his eyebrow. “A routine? Well, I can fit in with that.”
Ed gaped at him. “What the hell? What don’t you understand? I’ve let you ruin my morning. I’ve put up with you telling me to sit, stay, and come. Now I want to do my shopping and forget this day ever happened.”
To Ed’s chagrin, Marchant didn’t seem at all bothered by his outburst. Instead he leaned forward, and unconsciously Ed mimicked his action.
“I haven’t told you to come yet, but when I do, you’ll obey.”
The breath knocked out of Ed’s chest. He stumbled back. “Leave me alone. Don’t come near me again.”
Ed fled the supermarket as if the hounds of hell were after him, all the time waiting for Marchant to drag him back. He reached his car without intervention, fumbling as he tried to press the button on the keys to unlock the door. Inside the car he clutched the steering wheel, the blood pounding in his ears. He’d been seen for what he was.
Deviant! Abomination! Pervert!"