Private Practice Book Blast
Author Bio:
Richard Longfellow resides in London, Great Britain. He’s tall, dark and handsome and currently unattached. When he’s not tending to his patients, he enjoys stroking cats, films with happy endings and opening the very best champagne, although not necessarily in that order. He has absolutely no connection with the school described in the text and his father never wore a Rolex watch. This is his second novella of quintessentially British, gay erotica.
Author Contact:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100008178612072&fref=ts
Twitter: @RickLongbow
Cover Artist: 3 Rusted Spoons
Publisher: Dark Hollows Press
Blurb(s):
Mark has film star looks, a body to die for and a successful career as a gynecologist, but he’s
lacking something – like a boyfriend, for instance. He’s also a porn star on the side with a
hundred DVDs to his name and a libido to match. Then, along comes a patient who seems all
set to destroy everything. Will he be able to talk his way out of the mess this time? Perhaps
he’ll need to call on divine guidance from Holy Joe, the school chaplain, who already knows
so much about his past…
Excerpt
Mm, that feels so good,” said Rick, who was bottoming.
“You like my big fucking dick in your pretty little arse?” said the muscular Latino top in barely intelligible English.
“Oh yeah, your big dick feels so fuckin’ awesome. I just want it to explode inside me and…”
Rick started giggling. He turned to the director. “Look, this dialogue is just awful. Can we take it again from the top and try fewer words?”
The director shrugged. He was used to Rick Longbow calling the shots. He was the star performer, after all.
The video, Private Practice, was being shot in a photographic studio somewhere in the sleazy backstreets of London’s East End. At one time it had been a meat-packing factory and fearsome-looking hooks still hung from the ceiling. In fact, it still was a sort of meat factory, although the only corpses littering the place were involuntary hysterics from the performers.
The film centred on the antics of a navy medic with a busy practice examining navy reservists for fitness to leap into action. Which, of course, they did repeatedly and in every way and combination imaginable, and usually – if Rick got his way – with the bare minimum of dialogue.
The place bristled with cameras, covering every conceivable angle: some were controlled remotely by overweight, beer-bellied technicians scratching their crotches; others were the steadicam type used by roving camera crews to get on-the-spot cinéma vérité and essential to cope with the shock and awe of an explosive ejaculation. Overseeing all of this organised chaos, the BritSpunk director was sitting in his chair watching the unfolding action and evidently looking forward to his latte macchiato and jam doughnut in approximately ten minutes time, assuming no one kept him waiting.
The cavernous interior had two sets currently in use: on the far left was a mock-up of a medical consulting room with a generously-sized examination couch equipped with stirrups, and a trolley covered with speculums, probes and other intriguing metallic instruments; on the right, an interior of a minimalist, Californian condo with a black, faux leather sofa and the image of a glistening pool drenched in artificial sunlight visible through floor-to-ceiling windows.
Rick Longbow knew exactly which set he’d prefer to be on, but the director had made sure he didn’t have any choice in the matter. He’d entered the examination room wearing a fetchingly tailored uniform which hadn’t remained on for long. Rick currently had his feet up in stirrups and he was being enthusiastically attended to by a Latino guy covered in exotic tattoos who’d cast aside the rented doctor’s outfit ten minutes ago and was now sweating profusely. He’d never come across a health professional with a dragon quite so extravagantly displayed on their body, and particularly one destined to incinerate his left nipple at any moment.
It had also been rather ironic undergoing an examination by someone who didn’t even know how to use a stethoscope. His co-lead’s technique with a tendon hammer had also left a lot to be desired and his right patella was still suffering from his sledgehammer approach at eliciting the knee-jerk reflex. And then there was that annoying abdominal x-ray on the viewing box, which someone had put up the wrong way around; the ascending colon was descending, the descending colon was ascending, and the transverse colon didn’t know right from left.
He tried not to let all of that distract him too much as he had a job to get on with, and he was actually rather enjoying his partner’s pile-driving exploration of his nether regions. He might have zero medical training, but he was certainly an expert when it came to sex and his prostate was being very pleasurably stimulated.
Tour Dates: 8/8/14
Tour Stops:
Parker Williams, LeAnn’s Book Reviews, Prism Book Alliance, MM Good Book Reviews, Love Bytes, The Hat Party, Scattered Thoughts & Rogue Words, Jade Crystal, Amanda C. Stone, Cate Ashwood, My Fiction Nook, Because Two Men Are Better Than One, Hearts on Fire, 3 Chicks After Dark, Fallen Angel Reviews, Iyana Jenna, Smoocher’s Voice
Sales Links:
www.darkhollowspress.com
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