The TEA AND CRUMPET Anthology is out now in both print and e-book from JMS books:
http://www.jms- books.com/ index.php? main_page= product_info& cPath=8&products _id=311
Raise your rainbow umbrellas high and celebrate!
Enjoy this enchanting, entertaining and thought-provoking collection, a heartfelt expression of what it means to be queer in Britain, past and present. All these stories reflect the iconic sights and national character of the British Isles: a taste of our idiosyncrasies and eccentricities, but also an unashamed representation of the love, loyalty and laughter of our people.
Contributors include: Alex Beecroft, Jennie Caldwell, Stevie Carroll, Charlie Cochrane, Lucy Felthouse, Elin Gregory, Mara Ismine, Clare London, Anna Marie May, JL Merrow, Josephine Myles, Zahra Owens, Jay Rookwood, Chris Smith, Stevie Woods, Lisa Worrall, and Serena Yates.
Edited by: UK MAT (UK Meet Acquisitions Team).
My contribution, a historical story, is called FIGHTING COCKS:
BLURB : Following his father’s death, Peter is under pressure to shoulder his responsibilities as a local landowner, but all he can think about is being with his friend, Norman. Peter’s mother already considers Norman disreputable–what would she think if she really knew what he was teaching Peter in the hayloft?
“Hold there, Peter,” Norman had said.
“Master Peter!” he had stated, the demand being somewhat spoiled by his slurring the words. “You will…will show me respect.”
“Oh, I think not,” Norman had replied. “A man has to earn the right to respect. And you have not.”
There was something hard and unyielding in Norman’s words and in the look in his eye. Peter stared at him and felt the stirring in his belly that he usually only experienced alone in his bed at night. He felt embarrassed and ducked his head. Norman set him more firmly on his feet, but he didn’t move away.
“Peter?” Norman said. “Peter, look at me.”
Peter felt impelled to answer the demand in Norman’s voice and he raised his eyes. He half expected Norman to be angry and then suddenly, through the haze of his intoxication, he remembered his position.
“How…how dare—” Peter hiccupped, “dare you speak to me like that!” It was not Norman’s place to take him to task. Peter stepped back a little and he stared at Norman, ready to… Whatever he had been thinking faded away at the look in Norman’s eyes.
“You feel it too, don’t you?” Norman asked softly. Peter licked his lips but no words would come. “I have watched you,” Norman went on. “You have never looked at the girls in the village; indeed, you’ve hardly seemed to notice those who looked at you.” Norman smiled.
Peter opened his mouth, closed it again as he tried to gather his thoughts. He tried again. “Feel it?” he queried.
Norman pressed closer, and Peter felt the pressure of Norman’s groin against his thigh and he gasped at the hardness he felt there. Colour flooded his cheeks as he felt his own prick rise in response and Norman laughed softly. “Oh yes,” Norman said, “You feel it.”