Ramblings of a madman.This is where you can find samples of upcoming works, posts about the industry, guest posts from other authors, and pretty much anything else I see fit to share!
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My name’s Brandon Bridges and I’m kind of a ho. “I don’t do puke, Jeff.” His eyes are pleading as he puts a hand over his mouth and fights the urge to heave in the middle of the dance floor, “You’re on your own, buddy.”
He flips me the bird with his free hand and turns in the direction of the bathrooms opposite the bar. My thoughts quickly turn from my lightweight date to the sea of half-naked muscled bodies gyrating en mass around me The musky scent of sweating men cuts through the redolence of cologne, dragging me deeper into the thundering bass and flashing lights of Club Bliss on a Friday night. More times than not you can count on the dance floor to be shoulder-to-shoulder, the temperature to be high, and the beats to blast for blocks all weekend long. This particular Friday night is no exception. I sip on the beer in my right hand just before the beat drops and the entire dance floor erupts in a blur of jumping bodies and fists raised toward the ceiling. This is my life. I’m a party boy. I work all week long with the singular goal of dancing up a sweat and drinking enough to forget the name of the trick I end up going home with. Dance. Drink. Fuck. I should probably get those words tattooed down my rib cage. My name’s Brandon Bridges and I’m kind of a ho.
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