Volley Balls by Tara Lain

Volley Balls is here! Volley Balls is here. Here’s where you can Buy it! Click HERE!

Here’s a little Blurb:

David Underwood needs to go to AA – Alpha-lovers Anonymous, but his ogling of two Australian volleyball players on Laguna Beach gets him harassed and terrified he might be in for a repeat of his previous abusive relationship. Australian, Gareth Marshall needs to come out. A lifetime of hiding his orientation from his best friend and volleyball partner, Edge, as well as everyone else around him, has left him hurt and frustrated. When Gareth gets a load of David posing nude as the Micheangelo statue in the famous Laguna Pageant, he knows his hiding days are numbered. But Edge has his own secrets, and may just take them out on the two lovers. And David's ex-lover has some nasty plans of his own. With everything stacked against them, can a flaming gay Laguna guy find happiness with an Aussie alpha male – or two?

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Excerpt PG-13: Volley Balls by Tara Lain M/M/M Menage Contemporary

AVAILABLE from Etopia Press

http://www.etopia-press.net/shopping/pgm-more_information.php?id=47&=SID

David Underwood needs to go to AA – Alpha-lovers Anonymous, but his ogling of two Australian volleyball players on Laguna Beach gets him harassed and terrified he might be in for a repeat of his previous abusive relationship. Australian, Gareth Marshall needs to come out. A lifetime of hiding his orientation from his best friend and volleyball partner, Edge, as well as everyone else around him, has left him hurt and frustrated.When Gareth gets a load of David posing nude as the Micheangelo statue in the famous Laguna Pageant, he knows his hiding days are numbered. But Edge has his own secrets, and may just take them out on the two lovers. And David's ex-lover has some nasty plans of his own. With everything stacked against them, can a flaming gay Laguna boy find happiness with an alpha male – or two?

A firm hand gripped his penis and moved it to one side. David looked down, unable to see over Rodney’s permed red hair. “Excuse me, darling, but what the hell are you doing with the body makeup down there?”

Mischievous dark eyes glanced back. “Well, dahrling, you’re much better hung than Michelangelo’s version of David, so I have to make this cock look like a part of the statue. Let’s say they couldn’t have used a fig leaf on you, sweetie.”

David laughed. “Flattery will get you everywhere, and I will confess that, sadly, this is the most action this cock has had in quite some time.”

“See, that’s why you have to come tomorrow night. You won’t forget, otay?”

“I said I’d be there.”

“Voila.” Rodney stood, pushing David toward the mirror in the crowded, messy dressing room.

David smiled. Well, okay. His reflection showed that, as promised, Rodney had outdone himself with the body makeup. He’d mixed some subtle shine into the matte white used to simulate marble, and he’d applied it extra thick. With the curled white wig on his head, and the white sling in his hand, David was…David. The image of the great Michelangelo masterpiece. Although in real life, David knew he was a bit prettier, not quite as masculine as the statue. But in this makeup, the resemblance was total.

“Wow. That looks cool,” Mike said. He was one of the other Pageant performers who’d agreed to pose nude and had been assigned the special “nudist” dressing room.

David continued smiling. “Yeah, I’ve got to admit our Rodney has outdone himself.”

Rodney proceeded to bow grandly until another one of the statue models snagged him for a touch-up.

“Places for the classical series.”

The scratchy public address system was barely coherent, but David and the others went to the stage where the impressionist art series would have just finished. Even when the backgrounds were so soft and dreamy and the figures diffuse, the amazing combination of set painting and miraculous lighting created the impression of an actual, life-sized oil painting on the stage. The illusion was so complete people came from all over the world, year after year, to see the famous Pageant of the Masters.

He stood in the wings as a Venus came off the stage, her skirts dragging and bare breasts bouncing in the white makeup. She winked at him. “Give ‘em hell, gorgeous.”

He walked onto the stage in the near darkness, stepped onto the pedestal, positioned the sling in his hand and cocked one knee. Taking a deep breath, he became still. He was ready.

Gareth shifted uneasily in the darkened amphitheatre. Another scene change. The effects were lovely and sometimes awe-inspiring, but he’d gotten the idea in the first half-hour. He liked real theatre with a plot and actors. This was more like a spectacle. He was ready to go.

He glanced to his left at Edge. The big man seemed fascinated with the show. Intriguing, since Edge had the attention span of a gnat. The other guys were more restless, jabbing each other when the bare-breasted art pieces appeared, but they were all guests of the Pageant so it wasn’t appropriate to be rude.

He settled back for the duration. Maybe a little catnap. The lights came up as he started to close his eyes. He heard an indrawn breath and looked up. Holy, bloody, everlasting hell.

In the center of the vast stage on a rotating platform in a single perfect spotlight was David, the masterwork of Michelangelo. Gareth had seen it in Florence several times, and every sense he had told him he was looking at the actual statue, although his mind knew this was a human being. Glowing, luminous, absolutely still…sweet bloody Christ, how could someone do it? How could they have found a person so perfect?

He noticed a deep stillness in the audience and also among his mates. Edge was absolutely motionless. Unusual for him. But the statue, the guy, was just that beautiful.

As he stared, his mind took over. The model’s legs were not as big and muscular as the Michelangelo. This “statue” was a bit leaner and even more graceful. The pedestal kept turning. He squinted. Bloody hell, he’d seen that perfect ass before. He peered into the pool of light as the “David” rotated. And he’d seen those perfect cheekbones.

Well, hell, it was the guy from the beach. Gareth rifled through his program for the name. David Underwood. The fag. Gareth shifted onto his hip, leaning away from Edge. Wouldn’t do to let his pouf-hating friend see his massive erection.

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