Olly

By Isabella Sinclair

“I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
In secret,
between the shadow and the soul.”
Pablo Neruda

With my hand resting at the top of my breastbone, I took a deep breath to calm my nerves, preparing to exhume several ghosts from a past I had suppressed long ago. I began, “The problem with love is that people often mistake it with several of its closely related cousins.” I paused to gather my scattered thoughts and could see she already had questions, but I held up my hand to keep her from breaking our agreement. “So many people-myself included-mistake lust and obsession for love. While still embodying them, true love is neither of those things, if that makes sense.”

Devin nodded, keeping silent while feverishly jotting down notes.

“In order to appreciate why I fell in love with the man I did, you have to understand how I came to accept the fact that love doesn’t always show up in the most convenient package. Sometimes it pushes all your buttons, makes you doubt yourself and question the core of your beliefs. At a time in my life when love didn’t seem possible, I went hunting for the next best thing...sex.”
~ Olivia Rae

• Language: English
• Publisher: SJ Byrne
• Release date: Nov 14, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301868278

Book preview

Olly

by

Isabella Sinclair

Copyright © 2012 Owl Eye Press

Published by Owl Eye Press at Smashwords

All rights reserved. No part of this ebook may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

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

www.owleyepress.info

Dedicated to those guardians of the brass keys...

Love is ALL there is.

"I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,

In secret,

between the shadow and the soul."

Pablo Neruda

Wedged in a corner seat at a small, rectangular table facing floor-to-ceiling windows, I just sat there, gazing out, watching the world pass. Shoppers strolled by with their bags of goodies, seemingly enjoying a particularly warm day at the tail end of what had been a bitterly cold winter.

Glancing down at the handwritten card lying on the table, I read for the millionth time what had to be the oddest request I’d seen in over twenty years. Why anyone would want to interview me was beyond my understanding. I was, by no means, anyone of importance. Sure, in my younger days, I’d been a published author, but that was another time, another life, practically someone else. As far as I knew, no one remembered that young woman had even existed. Hell, even I had a difficult time connecting with the woman I’d been back then, and we shared the same body.

One o’clock on the dot ticked by on my wristwatch, and a tinkling bell announced the arrival of a new customer entering the coffee house, sending a shiver of premonition dancing along my spine.

Never one to ignore the mystical warnings of my intuition, I glanced up as a petite woman moved in my direction. Her choice of clothing was relatively nondescript, but it didn’t need to be anything spectacular; with one glance, I marveled over the fact that she could wear a burlap sack tied with a bungee cord, and her elfish beauty would still shine through. Her dark brown hair hung straight down her back in a thick curtain, and I knew just by looking at it that men would beg to bury their faces in its soft splendor.

Ms. Rae? she asked, her voice rich for such a tiny woman. She stepped up to greet me with a small but elegant hand extended. I’m Devin.

How did you know it was me?

Stunned and rendered a bit uneasy that she somehow recognized me on sight, I took a second to collect my wits. Part of my mind tripped over the familiarity of her name. Devin, huh? Hmm...Where have I heard that before?

This. After digging through a shoulder bag that seemed too large for her small frame, she succeeded in shocking me a second time as she withdrew a worn paperback copy of my first novel. She flipped the book over and glanced at the picture on the back, then at me. You’ve not changed a whole lot over the years.

Heh. I’ve been told that my entire life. I laughed to break the sudden tension that was wrapping around me, then asked if I could look at the book.

If you promise not to flip beyond the front cover.

Hmm. Another odd request, I realized, as if her wanting to meet me wasn’t odd enough.

She held it out of reach until I agreed, then explained, It may sound silly, but there’s a very personal note written in it, and I’m not ready to share it...yet.

Fear flashed in her dark brown eyes, and I nodded. Privacy had become a hard-earned commodity for me not so very long ago, and I thoroughly understood.

I promise. It’s just been a while since I’ve seen one of these.

"Don’t you have a copy?" she asked in disbelief, sliding onto the padded wicker chair opposite mine as she pushed the book across the glass topped table.

Not this version. A ghost of a smile played about the corners of my mouth as I traced the cover design with the tip of my finger.

Limited first edition, isn’t it? Her eyes watched me with an intensity most would have found rude, but I was lost in a memory and didn’t mind one bit.

It is. You’ve done your homework.

Well, it’s an amazing story of growth and healing.

You’ve read it then?

She smiled. A few times.

The simple admission warmed my heart and brought tears to my eyes. I could think of nothing more meaningful and honest to say than, Thank you. It had been a long time since I had felt honored by my writing, and I was humbled by the experience.

I hope you don’t mind that I purposely misled you. I wanted to see your reaction for myself in order to relay it accurately. Genuine regret for the subterfuge echoed in her words, and I shook my head, dismissing her worry.

Totally understandable.

Visibly relieved by my acceptance of her apology, Devin questioned me about the book’s origin and what it had been like to publish such a tome. None of this stemmed from personal experience? The palm of her hand rested protectively on the book as she searched my eyes for the truth.

Not the things you’d expect...and definitely not the obvious parts.

Have you ever loved someone as fiercely as your characters love each other in these pages?

Is it my imagination, or did her eyes just sharpen their gaze? My senses warned me that there was more to her question than I could see, and I hesitated for a long moment before answering. Only once, I finally said, as profound sadness filled my heart and seeped out with my every word.

Would you be willing to talk about him? Obviously hungry for knowledge of my sordid history, Devin sat up straight and ceased fidgeting with the folded corner of her notepad.

On a couple of conditions.

Which are?

"You allow me to tell it my way and only ask questions when I indicate you may do so."

Agreed.

With my hand resting at the top of my breastbone, I took a deep breath to calm my nerves, preparing to exhume several ghosts from a past I had suppressed long ago. I began, The problem with love is that people often mistake it with several of its closely related cousins. I paused to gather my scattered thoughts and could see she already had questions, but I held up my hand to keep her from breaking our agreement. So many people-myself included-mistake lust and obsession for love. While still embodying them, true love is neither of those things, if that makes sense.

Devin nodded, keeping silent while feverishly jotting down notes.

In order to appreciate why I fell in love with the man I did, you have to understand how I came to accept the fact that love doesn’t always show up in the most convenient package. Sometimes it pushes all your buttons, makes you doubt yourself and question the core of your beliefs. At a time in my life when love didn’t seem possible, I went hunting for the next best thing...sex.

Twenty-three years earlier…

The Internet has been my constant companion ever since AOHell ruled American connections with $3.99 per hour pricing. Bored out of my mind, unable to write because my muse and I were not on speaking terms, with a body on the verge of instituting a revolution if I didn’t get some action soon, I trolled Craigslist.

If you’ve never been through the personals on Craigslist, you are missing out! It’s a veritable smorgasbord of scintillating diversions. On top of being bi, I’m also a voyeur. In other words, I get off on watching the exploits of others.

Actually, I believe we, as a race, are all bisexual beings. There are, of course, those who claim to be adamantly against it, but I have to wonder if it’s a case of protesting too much. At that degree of hate, I have to consider that they’re simply afraid to discover that they, too, like playing for both teams.

Yes, I find women attractive. Why wouldn’t I? We are erotic, sensual, sexual creatures. What’s not attractive about that? I’ve been with a few, but I’ve never gone down on one.

I completely get the male fascination with breasts. They really are fun to play with, and I’ve been captivated by them since before I even grew my own. The only reason I haven’t tried to tip over the proverbial little man in the boat is because I’ve yet to find myself in an intimate situation with an irresistible woman.

It’ll happen…someday. I’m sure of it.

So, what about men? Of course I love them. I adore them and lust after them with every sexual fiber of my being.

Two men together? Intriguing, but even better would be a twosome of straight men. Now, I realize you might be asking, How the hell does that happen if they’re really straight? I can assure you such collisions can come about in lots of ways, but I think there’s a tie for the biggest culprits: a male-male-female (MMF) threesome and what I like to call the Porno Experience.

I know. I’ve digressed. Just stick with me.

The MMF threesome is pretty self-explanatory. The Porno Experience, not so much, but it happens more often than you’d think. I’m not sure