Preview  of  First Chapter  of         SUMMER CLUB AND THE CREATURES

         by    James A. Richards

SUMMER CLUB

and the CREATURES

an erotic novel by

James A. Richards

GLB PUBLISHERS     San Francisco

No part of this book may be reproduced by any mechanical, photographic, or electronic process, or in the form of an electronic recording, nor may it be stored in a retrieval system, transmitted, translated into another language, or otherwise copied for public or private use, excepting brief passages quoted for purposes of review, without the written permission of the publisher.

Published in the United States by
GLB Publishers
P.O. Box 78212, San Francisco, CA 94107
www.GLBpubs.com

Cover figure art by "Madkat"
Cover Design by GLB Publishers

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental

Library of Congress Cataloguing Control Number
2006909853
ISBN 978-1-934203-01-9
1-934203-01-7

First printing June, 2007

CHAPTER ONE

     ‘The end has arrived early tonight,' he thought.
     Neither the sun nor the moon can be seen. There are no stars. There is very little light. Hours earlier than usual, the entire world of this nondescript, struggling town has become dark. The buildings are now shadows on shadows. A small, dying city that cannot hide its pain and loss; not in the daylight nor in the dark of wind and rain and thunder.
     "Go ahead home," says Mrs. Walters. "With the power out, I have to close the store early. There really isn't anything to do." Nodding, David Barton takes off his apron and pulls on his coat. He looks around the darkened store and through the grocer's large and cracked window. The storm has gotten worse. "Are you sure?" he asks her. Though overweight and insecure, David does have one advantage: at twenty-two, he'll be able to handle a walk home better than a blue haired, anorexic 70 year old woman. "I'll be fine," she insists. "My daughter is coming to pick me up. Go on. I don't pay you pennies to worry about me. Go."
     Pausing outside the store, David assesses the world around him. Sheets of rain come pouring down, turning his view into a watery blur. Only the occasional flash of lightening reveals the dreary, old and crumbling buildings of the neighborhood he calls home.
     Pulling his coat and hood close to him, David begins his long trek. He passes one battered tenement after another. The wind and rain keep fighting him, as if nature has decreed that David Barton should be forbidden sanctuary. He keeps pushing forward. Nature, laughing at him, pushes back. This battle continues for four more blocks. Finally, David surrenders and huddles into an alcove.
     His field of vision is narrow: the world remains a blur of rain and wind. Nevertheless, he can see across the street, in another alcove, a woman. He has seen her before. She is young and tall and lithe and has always greeted him on the street with a smile that seems to read "go ahead and dream kid. That's all you'll ever get." Tonight, this woman is leaning comfortably against a brick wall. Her black hair is sleek with rain. Her T shirt is damp and clinging to her breasts. Jeans are molded to her body. David can't help but stare at this fantasy come to life. She looks over and sees him. The "dream on kid" smile returns to her face.
     A man arrives. David has seen him before, too. He is a perfect match for the woman: tall, athletic and confident to the point of cocky. His body, also in simple jeans and wet t shirt, is as finely sculpted as any statue. He also gives David a sort of "go ahead and dream kid" smile. These two beautiful individuals embrace and kiss passionately. David cringes. Here is the type of woman he has always wanted and the type of man he has always wanted to be. The two enter an adjacent door, their destination and purpose obvious.
     Nature has stopped laughing and the wind has eased. David walks around the last corner to arrive at home: a century-old Victorian guesthouse that has decayed into a shadow of former grace. Once one of the city's premiere hotels, its ornamental facade is no longer lit with the soft glow of gas lamps. Now neon shines bright. Some of the windows are held together with tape. The entrance's awning is torn. Some of the facade's decoration has disappeared.
     Inside, the hotel's long history and sad condition are almost comforting. After all, this dark and dying place is home. Mr. Reynolds, the owner, is exactly where he was this morning: leaning on the counter, re-reading the day's paper, with little white flakes falling from his balding head. He looks up to give David a slight frown. It's the closest thing to a smile the old man can manage. He hands David his mail with a short grunt.
     David glances to his right. Sitting in the lounge are the two "sisters" who share a room on the third floor. Calling themselves "sisters" is their idea of irony. They are not related. One is light skinned, the other dark. Both wear tight clothes over slightly bulging figures. David has never learned their last names. He has never asked and they have never offered. The "sisters" prefer it that way. The dark one, who calls herself Tiffany, insists that their customers enjoy a certain ignorance. It is the best choice in their line of work.
     David forms a trail of rainwater as he walks over the worn carpet. Tiffany and Amber (the light one) offer friendly, tired smiles. David nervously smiles back and hurries to the elevator. Inside, he presses his floor and awaits the carriage's standard three jerks before ascending. Reaching the third floor, he quietly turns the corner to his door.
     Once inside, David dumps his mail on the table and quickly moves to the bathroom to remove his wet clothes. The bathroom is a tricky place for him. A creature is in here that he prefers to avoid. It's not the family of mice under the sink, or the occasionally leaky toilet. It's a piece of glass permanently affixed to the wall: a cracked but clear mirror. Looking into it means looking at himself. There is nothing David hates more. But the creature is here. It will not go away. Taking off his damp shirt, David's eye catches his reflection. Looking back is a man of 22 with sandy hair, blue eyes and no muscle definition. His arms are mere tubes of flesh and his stomach a pale shelf of gelatin. A young man of no means and no accomplishments. With a sigh, David strips and begins his shower. The shower stall is one of the few things in his efficiency that actually works right. David takes great pleasure in this; many of his neighbors are not so lucky.
     Stepping out, David grabs a towel and dries off. The steam has temporarily blinded the creature on the wall. He puts on his bathrobe and returns to his four dingy walls. Around him are piles of books and papers and clothes. A small, black and white TV clings to life on an old fruit crate. A metal dinette table, with two matching chairs, sits next to the kitchenette. A worn, unmade bed dominates the room.
     The only window is fairly large and without drapes. When needed, David will hang a sheet over the rod. He hasn't had to do this for months because the apartment across the alley has been vacant.
     Until now.
     The rain has slowed enough to provide a clear view through the two windows. David looks in surprise: there are boxes and furniture scattered around the other efficiency. No order. The only thing certain in its place is a large, battered brass bed graced with satin sheets. The lights are on, but no one is there.
     Suddenly, a door opens (apparently to the bathroom). But it is the person emerging which is the most surprising: it's the woman from the street. She must have just moved in. Wearing only a robe and toweling her hair dry, she seems even more a vision. Tossing the towel aside, she turns back to the bathroom door, calling to someone. She then removes her robe. The sight is incredible: her breasts are small, but solid and pointing to the heavens. Her figure narrows to a thin waist, with a small, dark triangle between her legs. She is a fantasy come to life, a dream woman from the ideal world imagined by every young man.
     This is the first naked woman David Barton has ever seen.
     He keeps staring. She is oblivious to him. As she turns away from the window, he can see her tight, sensual rear. Beneath his own robe, David's penis begins to stir.
     The person she has been calling to emerges from the bath.
     It is the man David saw her with downstairs. He is wearing only a towel around his small waist. His arms are well muscled; chest broad and stomach are as hard and defined as David's are soft and flabby. He calls the same fantasy world home. This ideal man draws this ideal woman to him for a deep kiss.
     The man looks up, and sees David across the alley. He smiles, and directs the woman to see for herself. They both silently laugh. Embarrassed, David begins to move away from the window.

*   *   * and in a later chapter...

     At that moment, Bill leans and places his lips on David's mouth. Wow. Why is he doing this? They touch very lightly at first, but then Bill's tongue reaches in and seeks David's tongue. Instinctively he responds to Bill's oral caresses. No one has ever kissed him before. Do guys really do this together? Bill's strong hands feel their way across David's flat chest, the first foreign hands there. Bill then picks up David's right hand and places it on his chest. For the first time, David is touching another body. It feels as hard and muscular as it looks. The hair is nice and soft. Bill then whispers into David's ear, "Don't worry, guy. After tonight, we will be best bros."
     With that, Bill scoots to the end of the cot and pulls David's shorts off. "Nice dick, dude," he says with a smile, looking at David's partially erect member. He nuzzles his nose in David's public hair and licks all over the area, including his sack, but avoiding the hardening penis. Bill gives him a brief smile, licks the shaft from bottom to top and then takes it all inside. Wow.
     Nothing in his life can compare with the sensation. The wet warmth of Bill's mouth is amazing. This is so cool. Bill teases the encased cock with his tongue and slides it in and out of his mouth; slowly at first and then faster and faster. Wow. Everything else escapes David's mind except for this wonderful feeling. It becomes too much for him, and he cums, shooting such a large load into Bill's mouth that a little of it comes dribbling out.
     Bill continues to slowly lick and caress David's shaft with his tongue, carefully bringing him down from an amazing high, until he gently releases him. They both take some deep breaths. Bill removes his own shorts and climbs up to lay next to David.
    "Let's get some sleep now, little brother."

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