A Heartfelt Connection

By Duma Odimm

A Heartfelt Connection is an intriguing African American gay love story. The romantic scenes between men on men are scintillating. A Heartfelt Connection gives a realistic and startling view of African American gay male lives. A Heartfelt Connection is a touching characterization of men living in the time of AIDS and dealing with, issues of identity, sexuality, race, class, sexual abuse, and alcohol and drug abuse. A Heartfelt Connection manages to weave each of these society issues throughout the story and deals with each with ease. A Heartfelt Connection is a crude and yet sensitive depiction of gay romance, sex, and friendships. A Heartfelt Connection offers sweet guilty thrills that will leave you wanting more

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Jul 4, 2014
• ISBN: 9781312328495

Book preview

A Heartfelt Connection

A Heartfelt Connection

A Heartfelt Connection

Duma Odimm

DunnBourne Publishing Company

© 2014

DunnBourne Publishing Company

1622 Academy Drive

3239 Penn Estates

East Stroudsburg, PA 18301

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

Man on Beach

Cover art by Joan Butterfield

Book and cover design by Tad Lightbourne

First Printing: 2014

ISBN 978-1-312-32849-5

Copyright © 2014 by Duma Odimm

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

For

My lovely husband GWL, my dear friends Bruce, Dehaven & James, my beagle cuddle buddies Desmond and Daxton, for making this book possible and for all the men that actually take the time to find true love and romance in their lives…

Thank you. Without your support and patience, I would have never achieved my dream.

Acknowledgements

I would like to thank my teachers, my editor GWL, my creative writing course classmates, and my family without whose help this book would never have been completed.

Thank you for your patience and guidance, your use of the editor’s red pen.

Finally I must thank all of you who buy books. It means so much to me and it is the reason that I get the courage to express myself in words daily.

One

Perhaps it was all unimportant and didn't matter very much.

He would often go after work or during his free time. He thought about this often with great guilt and self-hatred and would walk alone for hours, longing to connect with anyone who would honestly care about him. Time was not consistent or predictable. Hating himself for not being stronger, he felt everything so deeply. He felt a deep sorrow for the condition of his own life and he had never been so angry with himself for being so alone. 

He was far more handsome than any man needed to be. Although he was all man, his extreme physical beauty almost bordered on the feminine.

His tall, masculine body had been pumped to perfection, he maintained a sensuality and a grace all his own. He had long eyelashes, bushy eyebrows that were naturally arched and well-shaped, translucent, copper-colored skin and graying hair that was healthy and full. His body was large and solid, yet from years of working out, dancing and exercising, his physical proportions were almost perfect.

Sex had never been a problem and neither was his sexuality. He had been gay and attractive to most men as long as he could remember. He had always fit the stereotypical profile of an attractive, masculine, gay man and now he was everybody's perception of what a mature gay man was supposed to be. He never really had a problem attracting women or men. He had experiences with both. He just preferred the latter. Yet despite the ego, all the vanity and all the unsolicited attention from lustful, prospective yet unfamiliar partners, he felt very empty and alone on the eve of his 45th birthday.

A speeding car would have hit him if he hadn't been so practical, despite his raging alcoholic stupor. Crossing the street while highly intoxicated, weaving between parked cars and oncoming traffic to get somewhere safe where he could sit and cry, he had to admit to himself that he was totally miserable. He had stumbled, fallen and lay in a too relaxed heap on the concrete sidewalk, still dressed in his expensive business suit and his matching, full length leather coat. Luckily, no one had seen him fall, so his façade of control was still intact. Even so, despite his obviously disheveled appearance, there was no mistaking this man's class or his attractiveness.

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Alcohol began to erode his fragile sense of self-esteem and he just wanted to be held, to be kissed, and to be appreciated for what he believed to be his innate goodness like any other human being. He began to look longingly at anyone who passed him on the street, hoping that someone wonderful would rescue him from himself and his ongoing negative feelings. He had hit rock bottom again and he knew it.

He was not addicted to alcohol, but he frequently enjoyed it because it would help to dull the pain of four decades of mistakes. There were so many errors to be owned. He had made mistakes in judgment and mistakes of passion. Always honest and reliable, never out to manipulate or hurt anyone, he was definitely a product of his family environment and still clearly felt all the boundaries of his conservative, asexual Christian upbringing.

Now as he stood up, tired and drunk, Morgan Charles dusted himself off and carefully crossed the street with the late Thursday evening over the hump crowd. He wove back and forth uncontrollably as the alcohol flowed through his system in waves, temporarily washing away the negative memories he willingly chose to deny. Morgan felt that no one would understand the depth of the pain he was feeling. This would not be the last drink he would have that evening. 

As Morgan stumbled from the next bar, the pain and the guilt of his needs pulsated through his head and he knew he needed more than drinks for relief. He knew he really needed a quick sexual encounter to alleviate his anxiety. No romance, no courtship, just plain sex, as wild and as kinky as he could find. Just plain fucking would be fine.

The dilemma was that he was a public figure, a handsome face and striking presence recognized by many and usually envied and admired. Who would have imagined a man so full of life, so devastatingly handsome with so many advantages could be so desperately unhappy?

Morgan was torn. He desperately needed the action and the attention, but he really could not afford the scandal. His face was everywhere, plastered on billboards and seen regularly on television.

The night was cold and clear and it seemed like everyone was romantically connected for camaraderie and warmth. The streets of Greenwich Village were sparsely populated, and the few people that were out were coupled off and rushing to get to their destinations, to escape the cold. Those who traveled alone were undesirable by his tastes.

It would be hard to face the evening alone as he had done so many times before. There were no prospects for new romance and no provocative activities in which he wanted to participate. There was only the empty feeling of being isolated from all the people he loved, although everyone he knew and loved were still there. They were just unavailable to care for him in this, his time of need.

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Rather than face the ridicule and judgment of his friends and family, Morgan kept the dark secrets of his life buried deep within himself. No one would really care, sympathize or understand this man's personal pain. He was just too strong, too handsome, too well educated to have such mundane and ordinary problems.

Morgan Charles was a New York demi-celebrity, a lonely, deeply conflicted man who always had the ability to seduce the average person with only his good looks and charisma.

The phone had stopped ringing socially months ago. This was a direct response to the dull, somber mood Morgan had been experiencing on a daily, weekly and now, a yearly basis. At night he would secretly cry by himself feeling no one could comprehend the emotional pain he was now suffering. He spent many days and nights trying to ignore the pain and the anxiety, trying to be positive about the negative circumstances with which he found himself surrounded.

Drinking had become a new pastime to help soothe the wounds he was now opening again and again. Not only did Morgan drink, but also he often purposely drank to excess to obliterate the memory of anything good in his life. He felt didn’t deserve it.

What had he accomplished?

A successful modeling career? So what?

What right did he have to demand any affection or attention from someone else? Although it paid the bills, he felt his work and his career in the spotlight were marginal, superficial and somewhat unimportant.

Things had not always been so difficult.

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There had been a time in Morgan’s life when he was carefree and vital, living life to the fullest every day. He was always busy. There was no need for companionship. Interesting, fun people were always available and true love was always nearby.  Morgan was usually in love with someone and never spent any time alone unless he really wanted to.

When Morgan was in the height of his popularity and his physical beauty, he took everything he had been given for granted. Money flowed freely and Morgan was wise enough to make solid investments. He was not poor by any means and he could afford to live comfortably with money to spare.

No one mattered and no one else could compete. As time passed, he eventually let go of those weak, spineless people who idolized him to pursue his own dreams. Morgan was talented and handsome, so there were no real thoughts about growing tragically older and being alone. This was going to last forever. It just didn’t enter his mind.

Now that time had finally arrived.

Now, he had to face his demons. He was totally alone.

Morgan needed a real man for the night, not a woman, child or a queen, but a totally masculine man with the strength and the confidence of a mature partner who would be willing to meet his needs and reciprocate sexually without negotiation. Morgan was more than willing to give up any control issues for a quality evening of passion and lust. In his blurred and twisted mind, at least this would provide a temporary fix for what seemed to be a growing problem.

Tonight would be particularly hard for him because Morgan had been feeling low this evening about his ability to attract anyone at middle age. Although he was ruggedly handsome and charismatic, Morgan’s perception was that many of the men out on the prowl would not even give him the time of day. He was either too old for some, not dark enough, too fashionable for others or too intellectually intimidating and mature for a young, flighty man.  The drinking intensified all of these qualities and made him an easy target for the hustlers and drug dealers that frequented the clubs.

He knew he was now a victim of his age and the excesses of the 70’s and the 80’s. Most of his friends and many of his co-workers had changed their lives to escape the pain and the death that enveloped the fast paced gay lifestyle of the disco era. Gone were the flashy clubs, the daring, sexual outfits and the wild, overblown personalities. The scene had changed and Morgan knew he was a casualty of the ever-changing times.  He did his best to cover the pain and loss of his personal life and his conflict between work and his own, closeted sexuality.

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The more Morgan drank, the more his mind wandered. He longed for a certain type of companionship, but couldn’t find it.

His thoughts raced.

"Why can’t you feel me? I am lonely, lonelier than I have ever been in my entire life.

I know what I feel when I am in your presence. Why can’t you invite me in?

I have achieved success and I make enough money to support my lifestyle. I look good in person and on paper. I can buy drinks and food for the two of us all night long, even for the rest of our lives. 

I deeply need a man to hold me, hands to make love to me. I want a warm body, a soft touch and a strong, powerful desire to connect us. I don’t care about money. I don’t care about power. I want your sex.

I smell you on my body when you are not here. I miss your touch, the brush of your hair against my skin. I lay in bed at night and I cannot sleep. I always dream about you.  My hands roam and discover new places on my body as I constantly think of you. I violently toss and I turn, becoming tangled in the sheets.  My heart beats faster and my body becomes sensitive and my dick throbs as I long for your touch. Nothing satisfies me. I need you all the time.

Can’t you see my need? Why must I always take the lead? Why do I always have to be strong and in control. Why can’t you offer me what I need most? Love. Acceptance. Sex.

Because you don’t see me, I feel like the ugliest person alive. My life has no meaning without you.  Does my breath stink? Is my skin dirty? Did I say something wrong? Do I smell? Is my dick too small? Why won’t you love me? I am so embarrassed to be in front of you begging for your acceptance. I need you more than anything else that supports my life. I try to show you, to tell you and my tongue is tied. I am too shy to confront you. I am so afraid you will reject me.

Won’t you reconsider? Please give me a chance. I know I am not the most attractive man but I am also not the worst. I can love you better than you know. My love will protect you and comfort you. My love will shield you from hurt and help you achieve your goals. .

This is between us. Nobody knows what I am feeling, although they can tell I am needing you.

I have no pride. I will scrub your floors and clean your house. I will cook your meals and pay your bills. I am desperate to be a part of your life. If you will just honor me with your presence, I promise to make all of your dreams come true.

I need to feel your lips on mine, traveling across my body, leaving your heat and passion behind. I am your receptacle. I want to