I love Valentine’s Day. I think it’s because red is my favorite color and I have a ton of Valentine’s Day accessories; heart suspenders, cupid broaches, a great button down with lipstick kisses all over it. I could go on.

Yes, to some it’s a manufactured holiday, created to sell cards, gifts, etc. but so what?

 

We Libra’s love love, or at least the idea of love, but we also don’t do great with monogamy, but the idea of love, romance…YES!

 

Even though this post will come out post-VDAY I’m sure most of us will (at least I hope most) will be still be swept up in a tidal wave of chocolates, good (if not great) sex and hopefully a good meal, lovingly prepared by someone other than yourself, unless you are the cook, well then make the other piece of your live puzzle do the dishes!

 

I’m dipping my toes back into erotica. I say dipping because I have no idea if there is another erotic romance buried deep in my heart, but we shall see. This is me reintroducing you, dear reader, and myself to this notion of love, the written word, and in the case of “A Valentine for Evrain,” chocolate, lots of chocolate. I don’t trust people who don’t like chocolate. When someone say’s they “hate” chocolate, I am immediately suspicious. By no means am I a chocoholic (denial is part of the addiction) but I will confess to sharing my writing desk with what I tell my significant other is “writing chocolate) I red somewhere a famous romance writer eats “saltines.”

That would never do.

I need chocolate or some sort of something. Gummies will also suffice. Right now it’s a jar of violet flavored, French candies, a half eaten bag of gummy bears, and one carefully wrapped truffle. We’ll see ho it goes.

 

So what’s the point to any of this rambling? Well, it’s this short story, my second; a reissue from the days of “Silver Publishing” (Ugh remember that debacle?) Anyway the theme was “Never Say Never” to love. They wanted a stories featuring character’s that didn’t believe in love (or something like that) it’s been a minute. I knew right away my hero (some would argue Evrain is a hero) would have an Arthurian name and that’s where Evrain came from, I still love this name. One reviewer said if Evrain was “hit by a car they’d be more worried about the car.” I think I laughed out loud when I read it. He is a bastard, for sure. Mean, dominating, heard hearted and just happens to run a fantastic chocolate shop in a small town full of people who need chocolate in their lives. But, as it goes, one day he encounters a man who changes the ways of his heart. I wouldn’t say Evrain ever becomes sweet, maybe bittersweet? Which is also my favorite kind of chocolate. To me, romance, erotica, etc is a matter of taste, my taste runs “Story Of O,” (brilliant) The “Sleeping Beauty” books by Anne Rice (Gorgeous) and the Marquis, the Kama Sutra and that about sums up my erotica reading, possibly a little “Tropic of Cancer” and “Lady Chatterley’s Lover” thrown in for good measure.

 

Evrain is no Arthurian hero, he is difficult, challenging, and at times compassionate to the plight of those around him, seeing himself as beyond the grasp of love, and heartache, something he soon find himself facing, clumsily and inelegantly. But that’s love and I will leave the judgment of his character and the story to you.

Xoxo

XA

 

Blurb:

Evrain runs a chocolate store in a small town and is not above using the storefront for hot encounters with local guys. But love is definitely not in the cards, at least until he meets Ambrosio. The Sexy Latino soon teaches Evrain a lesson in love that neither man will soon forget.

Buy Link:

Amazon

A Valentine for Evrain

 

There was this assistant principal: sweet-lipped, early thirties, whose unconscious habit of wearing tight pants caught not only the interest of the town’s conservative population but mine as well, both for entirely different reasons. But I knew I’d bend him and, boy did I. He came in searching for something one night after school. He looked wild-eyed, caged; I know what a man wants when he looks that way. He said he was originally from the city, his eyes shifting hungrily, as if consuming the exotic spread of the store. I watched him inhale the sweet caramel smell of chocolate, cinnamon, lavender, and me. He did not know he wanted it, didn’t know what it was that made his hands grip the counter, but I knew.

“I’m heading over to see this girl.” His eyes scanned the counter top, the various chocolates underneath teasing him. “I thought she’d like something, thought it’d be gentlemanly.”

I remember nodding, thinking, yeah, yeah I have heard it before, drop and give me 20. Instead I just smiled, cut two slices of dark-chocolate ginger bark and handed one to him. Ginger makes one think hard about heat, lust, fucking. I ate my piece and watched for his reaction. We both started to sweat. I wiped the back of my neck, and he grabbed a napkin from a stack on the counter and swiped it across his forehead. There is nothing hotter than watching a man submit to the unknown. I have heard that the thrill of skydiving is not so much in the jump, but in the fall.

“You ever skydive?” I asked him, as he began pacing my tiny sugar-infused domain. He didn’t answer just kept sucking on the bark, his teeth gnawing at the confection as if it held the answer to the question I had just asked; the tight khakis revealed his erection. I could see the confusion in his face. He didn’t know why he was hard. He looked down, betrayed by his body’s reaction. He knew I was staring and turned away; this only gave me a better view of what I wanted most. His ass was round, full, sensual for a man’s body. I knew he’d never had anyone do anything to it. I spit a piece of ginger into the trash, reached down, and felt my own stiffening monster. I knew I’d fuck him the minute I laid eyes on him months before. He could pretend, pace, sweat—it was all gonna come down to one fateful moment: one push over the edge, falling, spiraling downward into a delicious oblivion. He would move back to the city, of course. He would learn he could not get what he really wanted from this place. I remember laughing at that moment, and his angry reaction.

“You think it’s funny?” He spat, the ginger was working. “You think I like working in this shit hole. Small towns, small-minded backwards…”

“Hey there, this is my home you’re talking about,” I arched an eyebrow and reached for another piece of the bittersweet, dark-chocolate, ginger bark, “small minds, and all.”

About Xavier Axelson: Xavier Axelson is a writer and columnist living in Los Angeles. Axelson’s work has been featured in various erotic and horror anthologies including Best Gay Erotica 2016 Volume 2, Best Gay Erotica 2015.

 

Longer written works include “The Incident”, “Dutch’s Boy”, “The Birches”, “Earthly Concerns”, “Velvet,” and “Lily”.

 

Xavier covered both Fringe Culture and Sex Advice for the Los Angeles Examiner from 2010-2015. Axelson has worked in the adult industry for over 15 years. He first lectured at a college regarding sexual health at the age of 19. He has trained as a dungeon master, worked for a notorious Hollywood Madame as a consultant and as a talent agent for the adult film industry. He has several degrees in fields such as communications, library technology and literature.

 

Where to find Xavier Axelson:

http://www.facebook.com/xaviersaxel

http://www.twitter.com/xaviersaxel