Many Days and a Night

By Eve Morton

Chris is not having a good day. His night shift job ends in a bloody nose (for someone else), it's freezing cold in Chicago, and his best friend of almost twenty years won't return his phone calls. When he heads to the park for some release in the cruising area, he's not expecting to find Lorne: an attractive older investment banker with a unique perspective on the New Year’s.

How we spend New Year’s Day is how we spend the rest of the year, according to Lorne, and in attempt to keep both of their good times going, Lorne invites Chris out for a day of fun and surprises -- both mundane and erotic.

Will their mutual attraction and affinity last beyond a day, or is Lorne right, and will this stunning afternoon and evening become something much stronger as the New Year goes on?

• Language: English
• Publisher: JMS Books LLC
• Release date: Dec 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9781685503475

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Many Days and a Night

By Eve Morton

Published by JMS Books LLC

Visit jms-books.com for more information.

Copyright 2022 Eve Morton

ISBN 9781685503475

Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

All rights reserved.

WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published in the United States of America.

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For RTM.

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Many Days and a Night

By Eve Morton

I met Lorne around the same time that Morgan stopped talking to me. It was winter and I was working nights at two places, the lab and the hotel, though I sometimes mistook both of them and would show up at the wrong place. Since both always needed cleaning, I was always welcome—but it meant that my days and nights were blurring together. I had no idea what day of the week it was and where I was supposed to be half the time. If not for the automatic retrieval for my rent and automatic deposit for my checks from both places, I would have been homeless for most of that winter. In Chicago, it was a bitter winter.

I called Morgan one morning when I was off work and smoking outside before I would take the bus home. A guy passed me in the hospital’s front awning, his nose bloody from a fight with his girlfriend. His hair was bright red, almost like a carrot, and around the wound on his face were these patches of freckles. What I saw of his arms—he wasn’t wearing a jacket, like I hadn’t been—was also covered in these freckles. I thought of the one time I’d seen Morgan naked, not just skinny dipping or swimming in my parents’ pool, and he had those same freckles everywhere.

I realized I hadn’t talked to him in a long time. Something like six months, give or take whenever I’d moved out to my own place in the city and started working nights to afford it. I’d once been a student, but PhDs didn’t get you a lot but a headache on the campus, a contract gig that paid just about as much as I got paid scooping rat poop out of the research lab at the hospital, or cleaning up after drunks in the hotel, and I got to keep my mind that way. I didn’t have to teach kids who didn’t like poetry and I could think about poems whenever I wanted, whatever I wanted, not explaining a damn thing to anyone.

That was the story I told myself, anyway. I didn’t really think a lot about poems anymore, especially not that winter. If I read at all, it was stuff from Ambrose Bierce and Robert Chambers, proto-H. P. Lovecraft’s but without the virulent racism. Short