Hi guys, we have Dan Skinner stopping by with his new release That Darn Muse (The Misadventures of Doc & Dick Vol 01), we have a great excerpt and a brilliant giveaway, so check out the post and leave a comment to enter the giveaway! <3 ~Pixie~

That Darn Muse

Dan Skinner

He’s a middle-aged, newly single, gay photographer starting life over. Along comes a freshly out nineteen-year-old, irreverent free spirit who wants to be his apprentice. Mismatched by more than a generation, what could possibly go wrong? Everything! And it’s AWESOME!

Dirk’s First Time. Every gay boy has his first experience. Usually it’s a memorable, exciting personal time of discovery and intimacy between two young people. But two comic book characters? Is it horseplay or Cosplay?

The Boy At The Gym. First impressions can be deceiving. Sometimes that boy in the baggy clothes, talking to himself in the gym isn’t as shy as he appears. Sometimes there’s a deviant imp lurking beneath that freckled mask of innocence. Beware the Trojan Nerd!

Excerpt

The Nutshell… and the Nut

He’s nineteen years old, taller than me by four inches and less heavy by about fifteen pounds – even though I’m an avid runner. I figure it’s my middle-age curse. It takes a lot more effort to be that lean. His hair is longish, rust-colored and will fall down into a classic set of bangs when the slightest breeze blows. He’ll absently brush this back a half dozen times in the course of a conversation. Determining his eye color is impossible. They seem to change with whatever he’s wearing but if I had to guess, I’d say closer to brown, maybe hazel. He’s hardcore ADHD and moves as quickly as he talks. I’ve often compared our discussions to watching hummingbirds’ wings. His leg provides a constant drumbeat to a conversation beneath the table.

This is Dirk. I call him my “muse.”

He and I have come a long way to eventually become photographer/teacher and apprentice/muse, but I still remember distinctly the day I first saw him. It was winter. I was in a new gym right after I moved back to the city; I was lying on a mat facing a row of treadmills, doing my abs when he walked in with two of his buddies. They were all college-aged. He was hard to miss. His buddies were in workout clothes and he was in a pair of the baggiest sweats I’d ever seen – two sizes too big for him but cinched tightly at the waist, a sweatshirt covered by a loose yellow jacket. He had a stocking cap barely pulled over the crown of his head and it had a peak as high as Mount Everest. He had a backpack on as if he’d just come from school and he didn’t bother to take it off as he climbed aboard the treadmill nearest me, plugged some ear buds in and began walking. He had a loose walk – that kind of gait that most guys get after a sudden growth spurt that makes their movements seem gangly and uncoordinated. He bobbed his head continually with what I suspected was the beat of the music but he was mouthing words I knew didn’t belong to any song.

“I hate this. I really hate this. Walking on a treadmill indoors is stupid.” It didn’t sound like anything that even Lady Gaga could put to a beat, so I gathered he was really not enjoying being in a gym on a treadmill.

~~~

Truthfully, I can’t explain to you why visuals like this strike me as interesting, but this kid did. He had one of those boy-next-door faces that was still trying to grow hair, and that I knew would soon phase out of cute into handsome with a little maturity. And he seemed continually distracted. Everything mundane held his attention for only a matter of seconds. His eyes constantly roamed for something worthwhile.

He caught me staring at him but didn’t seem unnerved by it. He nodded, smiled and kept on plowing forward, loose-legged on the treadmill keeping the rhythm with, “I hate this, I really hate this, this is stupid.”

I saw him several times after that, always dressed in heavy, disguising layers, always with a backpack and stocking cap and perpetually displeased to be in the gym, like his friends had tethered him to them like a pet needing to be walked. On one occasion, he sat on the leg machine next to me and I watched him carefully roll up the legs of his sweats just to his knees before beginning to do his presses. I was actually surprised to see that he had hairy legs and he caught me staring at them but assumed I was looking at his socks. They had a bold, garishly colored cartoon print on them, but I hadn’t noticed that until he told me they were a Christmas gift. Those were actually the first words he spoke to me and I remember this because it saved me the embarrassment of having been caught in a gym staring at a guy’s legs. Yes, I’m gay, but I normally don’t stare at people like they’re quarry. I prefer to say that at that time I was newly single and had finally reached the psychological maturity inclined to stay that way.

My first impression of Dirk was how unlike his buddies he was. They were fairly typical jocks, or jock wannabes, and he came across as the bookish, cerebral-type. Maybe that was because of the glasses he occasionally wore. I think we all mentally assess people by how they look and Dirk had a nerdy feel to him. But a cute nerdy feel. He didn’t stand around looking in the mirrors like most guys do in a gym. In fact, it appeared he avoided them. When he worked out his gaze traveled. I think that’s how he noticed me. I had that rage in me of a middle-aged man cast back into the pond with the young fish. My anger displayed itself in the obsessive zeal of my workouts. That’s a nice way of saying I probably looked nuts. At that time I was. When I caught him staring at me it was with curiosity, probably wondering where I got the inspiration he didn’t seem to have.

But I’m going to digress to brag a little bit. In the course my progression through time, a man who had been in peak physical condition most of his life let everything slide. That happens when you drink too much and eat bad things to comfort yourself every time you have to deal with an emotional crisis. Over time, I’d deteriorated into someone I didn’t recognize: overweight, depressed and full of self-loathing because of it. But I’m also a very determined individual. Especially after the sudden change in my status and lifestyle. I set myself on a course of diet and workouts that would make an Army boot camp look like a fifth grade gym class. I wasn’t about to go back out into the world being a slob. Two years later I was back in shape, running ten miles a day, fifty pounds lighter and regaining the muscle tone I’d had when I younger. Someone once said the best revenge is looking good. So there. Revenge was mine. I looked good and I was determined to look great by the time I was done with this transformation. I wanted to gaze in the mirror again and say, like Cher, I had turned back time. I might not be enchanted with the turn of events in my life, but I was going to look great. So I went at it like a maniac and that was probably what this young guy was watching when I noticed I had his attention.

About Dan

I’m a single gay man living in the Midwest. I write because I consider myself to be an old-fashioned storyteller. I’ve been a photographer for half my life, specializing in male romance cover art. My dream is to one day live on the beach with my dog and continue to tell tales that inspire and entertain.

Contact Dan on Facebook, Twitter, DeviantArt, and Tumblr (NSFW)

Giveaway!

Win an ecopy of That Darn Muse!