Monday, October 22, 2012

Horror, Dark & Lite, volumes 1 and 2 excerpts by Anel Viz

In Anel Viz’s Dark Horror anthology, the vampires, serial killers and shape-shifters in these three novellas will drain the blood from your heart. Where it goes from there is no one’s business but your own.

“Val” – For years, Brad has been obsessed with the memory of his dead lover, Val. His obsession takes over his life when he meets another Val, a hustler who looks exactly like the first.

“Slasher” – A man is found in a cubicle at a gay bathhouse with his throat slit. Then another victim turns up. Only Lou’s lover, Jamie, can identify the most likely suspect.

“The Matador” – Soledad de Riquer feels certain that her brother, the celebrated matador El Valiente, has his eye on her young boyfriend, Adulio.

Volume I: Dark Horror
Silver Publishing (October, 2012)
ISBN: 9781614956266

Excerpt from “Val”:

[Situation: Brad knows that his much younger lover, Val, is a hustler – it’s how they met. But he has seen Val in the company of another older man, and the two seem to know each other too well for it to be a strictly business relationship.]

On the third night Brad waited outside his office building to see if Val and the tall stranger would hook up there again. They did, and he followed them at a distance. When they stepped into a bar he hid in a shop entrance to see when they would come out. He didn't have to wait too long. They came out as soon as the night had turned very dark and continued on their way.

He did not understand the irresistible urge he felt to follow them. Jealousy? Curiosity? The risk of discovery? It was not hard trailing them inconspicuously. There were still plenty of people in the streets.

He rushed to catch up with them when they suddenly turned into an alley. Afraid they might see him, he sidled up against the building and peered around the corner. The alley was empty; they were not there.

Cautiously, he walked down it. He'd gone only a few steps when everything fell silent, the noise of the street behind him blotted out. It was very dark. The alley opened into another street, a lonely street, also dark and quiet. Empty, too, or so he thought at first, but hidden in the shadows against the walls dozens of young men stood lined up, on the prowl for sex. In this light they all looked like Val.

He walked slowly down one sidewalk, then the other, checking each one out as he passed. No, they were not Val, but they could have been. They had the same long, straight, black hair, the same piercing blue eyes, the same pallid skin; the height and build were right, the tight denim outfits, too. Except for their hustler's come-on stare, at once veiled and brazen, a look which any of them would have shed had he brought him home, they reminded him of the dress-up Vals he used to create; not quite right, but right enough. In fact, he thought he recognized one or two among them as his male-for-hire Galateas, but they had all blurred together over the years, and his new Val, the true Val, had effaced their features even more. There was no telling, and there was no denying they were all beautiful.

He approached one of them, bold yet apprehensive, like a cat with lives to spare. He raised a finger to his cheek, and gently stroked it. "Val?" he whispered.

"Whatever," the man said. "We're all nameless here." And he placed his hands on Brad's shoulders and forced him to his knees. "Undo my belt."

Brad resisted. The hustler held him firmly by the back of the head and pulled his face into his crotch. The sexual scent of his groin and the bloated cylinder stirring like a living thing beneath the denim was all the invitation Brad needed. He reached up and opened the man's jeans, admired, and tentatively mouthed, smooth as satin and startlingly cold, what he would have willed himself not to desire if he had the strength to do so. Snarling abuse at him, breathy and guttural, the Val thrust into his mouth and humped his throat relentlessly.

The other Vals homed in on them, stroking their bulges. Through the corner of his eye, he saw hands unzipping flies, pants lowered over hips, cocks pulled out and jerked, and he heard obscenities muttered as encouragement by leering lips. He felt the man swell in his throat, then his head was pushed back and the hot spurt splashed onto his face and shirt. Though he hadn't noticed any pleasurable sensations in his own penis, Brad felt a sticky wetness in his underwear.

Almost immediately, another pair of hands grabbed him by the hair and yanked his head to the side. "Suck me!" The man pulled him with such violence that Brad banged his face on the hanging belt buckle and cut his lip. Another large cock, cold and silky, slid over his tongue and plunged into his gullet. He gagged, and tears welled in his eyes to blind him. He was dimly aware of other couples forming around them, grinding together, beating off, sucking. He struggled a little, but ineffectively.

He lost count of how many forced themselves on him. He had no idea how long it went on. He lay doubled up on the pavement and listened to their receding footsteps. When he opened his eyes, the street was deserted.

Bruised, disheveled, his nose running, his clothes crumpled and stained, he rode the subway home. The car was nearly empty, but he felt that the few people in it were staring at him. Was he that much of a sight? Did he look roughed up? Or did the stench of anonymous sex cling to him yet like a wax mask?

He stumbled up the stairs and saw Val sitting forlorn beside his door, resting his head in his arms folded in front of him. He'd forgotten Val had no key to the apartment. He looked weak, helpless, exhausted, as the first Val had been when he found him in the gutter and took him home many years ago. He didn't feel much better than that himself.

Val sat directly under the hall light; Brad stopped short of the end of the flight, back in the shadow of the stairwell. Hearing the footsteps stop at that floor, Val looked up. "Where were you?"

There was nothing weak about his voice. He sounded angry. Brad ignored the question. "I saw you with someone tonight. A client?"

"Maybe. What did he look like?"

"Tall, thin, dark hair. Greying, I think. He held you by the elbow." He did not say he had followed them.

"Oh, that was Derek, my agent," he said, getting up as Brad stepped forward into the light. "God Almighty! What happened to you? Were you mugged?"

"It's nothing. I fell, that's all."

"Fell, my ass. You've been punched."

Brad put his tongue on his upper lip. There was still a trickle of fresh blood. Val came up to him and licked it.

"What on earth are you doing, Val?"

"Dogs lick their wounds."

"When human beings lick their wounds they admit defeat."

"Only when they lick their own."

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In Anel Viz’s Lite Horror anthology, the vampires, stalkers, aliens, and shape-shifters in these stories prove less threatening than the main characters feared.

“A Layover at Atatürk International” – When their plane is delayed in Istanbul, Chase looks forward to sharing a hotel room with fellow passenger Viet Bloedrank.

“Coffee and Aftershave” – Skyler discovers that the creepy individual who followed him home from the subway is also stalking the men he dates.

“Bryce Olson is Pregnant” – Hoping for benefits, Russell decides to play along when Bryce Olson gets it into his head that his ex-boyfriend is an alien.

“The Stray” – John thought it just coincidence that his housemate and the big grey dog that came by for handouts never crossed paths. How long would it take him to catch on?

Volume II: Horror Lite
Silver Publishing (October, 2012)
ISBN: 9781614956273

Excerpt from “A Layover at Atatürk International”

[Situation: Chase went to bed while his assigned roommate stayed up to read. When Chase wakes up in the middle of the night, Viet is gone. He assumes the man has left to drop in on the Frenchwomen he flirted with earlier that evening.]

The door opened and the light came on in the tiny entrance vestibule. Chase pretended to be asleep and watched under half-closed eyelids Viet undress before coming into the room, as if afraid he might wake his roommate. Chase thought he looked different. Although he moved cautiously and on tiptoe, his actions radiated greater energy despite their slowness and a rosy glow suffused his pale skin. He slipped naked into bed behind Chase and—delight of delights!—pressed close to him, passed his arm around him, placed a hand on his chest, and drew him toward him. His palm felt as dry as when they had shaken hands, but now it was warm, and the rest of his body was, too.

"Am I dreaming?" Chase murmured.

"Yes," Viet whispered in his ear. "Is it a pleasant one?"

"It's a dream come true. Does it go on?"

"It goes on."

"How does it end?"

"The way you dreamed it would."

Chase tried to turn his body face to face with dream lover, but Viet tightened his grip and wouldn't let him. "Lie still," he cooed. "Let me fulfill your dream. And I will. Trust me. Viet Bloedrank knows how to give pleasure, exquisite pleasure."

"I want to see you. I want to touch you, too."

"You'll have that chance. We won't be leaving tomorrow. For now, leave everything to me." His voice descended in pitch and took on a mesmerizing quality like a low rumble. "I'm in charge now," he intoned. "Yield yourself. Prepare to be transported to another world, a world of wonderful sensations."

Chase's heart fluttered in anticipation and his body went limp, while Viet's incantation flowed from his lips like a slow-moving river, uninterrupted. "Sensations like those you love so well, but more intense, keener, more all consuming, and unbearably pleasurable."

"Unbearably pleasurable," Chase repeated breathlessly.

Viet put his mouth on Chase's shoulder, opened it wide, and, sucking like a greedy infant, passed his tongue over the sentient, imploring skin. He pinched his nipples and slid his hand down his chest, over his abdomen, ever lower, tantalizing, and brought it to rest on Chase's hardening penis. Chase parted his thighs in invitation. Viet cupped his hand over his balls and traced circles with his thumb on his cock head, slicking it with Chase's own precum.

"Yes," Chase whimpered. The pleasure was more thrilling than any he could remember, and Viet had done little more than touch him.

Chase felt a sudden but painless stab as Viet bit down hard on his shoulder. His eyes opened wide and his muscles tensed. It felt as if he had been injected with a drug that at once sedated him and made his body more responsive. His senses grew more acute and his awareness heightened. So alert was every nerve, the skin on his buttocks and the back of his thighs seemed able to visualize every feature of the body pressed against them, a body that grew harder as his own relaxed, more passive than when he had first yielded to the spell of Viet's seduction. He had never felt more vulnerable, and his now pounding heart rejoiced in his submission. He pushed backward and clenched his buttocks around the thick, heavy shaft nestled between them.

Chase felt the tip of an oily finger probing and greasing his hole. Then a larger hardness slowly eased into him, deeper, deeper, until Viet's pelvis lay flush against him and he was filled. It swelled even more inside him as Viet pumped more blood into it. Then he withdrew half way and plunged back in to the hilt.

Chase stiffened and his body tensed. When had Viet had time to put on a condom?

As if he understood what frightened him, Viet lifted his face from Chase's shoulder and said, "Don't be alarmed. You're perfectly safe."

How could he be sure of that?

"Hush," Viet murmured, "hush and enjoy. I won't hurt you. I never gorge myself, and I drank at least a pint before I came back for you. I'm very environment oriented and not one to deplete what sustains me. I'll be able to feed on you again tomorrow night, and the night after if we're still here, and you'll be none the weaker for it, I promise. My seed will replenish your strength. I decided when you first approached me I would save it all for you, and I have. Our French acquaintances, on the other hand, will feel wan in the morning. They'll need a hearty breakfast. Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

"I understand."

"Good. Now, is there something you want to say to me?"

"Yes. Fuck me."

"Do you mind if I drink a little more while I do it?"

"Drink as much as want. Drain me dry. Just fuck me. Please… I want it."

"Tsk tsk. Viet Bloedrank isn't a glutton. It would appear, however, that his dear friend Chase is. No, just a little blood in exchange for one huge fuck."

Then he rolled Chase onto his stomach, climbed on top of him, positioned his mouth below his ear and his hips above his bottom, sank in fangs deep into the one and his dick deeper into the other, and pounded. Chase was in seventh heaven.

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1 comment:

Victor j. Banis said...

well, of course, the writing is wonderful, but I should also say the stories are intriguing. As I would expect from Anel.