PEEPSHOW was never the story it was meant to be! I was fascinated by the call to arms for the PAX collection "I Know What You Did", and I immediately had the idea of my hapless hero Ken, fated to observe life from the other side of a CCTV screen. He's just as keen for adventure, friendship and sexy romance as the rest of us, but he's resigned to watching other people's lives on a grainy, black and white screen. Then, although teased and egged on by his drinking buddies, he discovers something more exciting on those screens than he'd imagined!
But as I wrote, Ken's opinions and sense of fair play started to encroach on the the sexy tale of voyeurism. He was excited, oh yes - but he felt guilty too. And worried that it wasn't a show all for HIM! So the story decided to investigate that, too. Ken's no prude, but he wants to know the truth behind the images - and only then can he place trust in what he saw. And WHO he saw.
I've been thrilled by readers' early response to it, and many thanks to reviewers who are considering it.
A lovely and thoughtful review from Brief Encounters Reviews seems to have caught on immediately with the themes of the story!
"This story surprised me. I thought it was going to go one way, with the sexy waiter and Ken meeting up and finding romance, and in a way it does, but the focus is more on Ken's guilty feelings about watching the waiter which made it more of an interesting story than it may have been. The opening shows Ken's growing interest in the waiter, culminating in that masturbation scene. This wasn't as sexy as I thought it would be because Ken has mixed feelings about the whole thing. It's described well with the graininess of the CCTV picture adding to the slightly sordid encounter. This reflects in how uncomfortable Ken feels. He's turned on, feels compelled to keep watching, but also feels guilt at spying on a man in a private moment.
ultimately the story was more interesting as a result. the focus on the awkwardness of the situation, rather than glossing it over with lust and desire made this story stand out from other stories and I would recommend it."
Here's another except to entertain you. If you're tempted to buy it HERE, I hope you enjoy it too :)
Is he an old friend, or just an anonymous exhibitionist? Should Ken be excited by this naughty peepshow, or will people think he’s behaving like a voyeuristic pervert? Poor Ken’s confused and thrilled in turn. It’s like living in one of the movies he’s studying at university. He knows the man can’t see him, yet Ken feels a connection of some kind. It all encourages Ken to continue with his guilt-ridden Waiter Watch.
Ken bears the suspense as long as he can, until a chance meeting and an abortive blind date provide an explanation to the secret assignations. But will this guide Ken to the real-life chance of romance?
Genres: Gay/Contemporary/Voyeurism/Exhibitionism/Public Places
Heat Level: 2
Length: Extended Amber Kiss (16k words)
Read a short excerpt...
And then Waiter came out the back door of the restaurant.
Ken nearly choked on his gum as he straightened up quickly in his chair. If he’d cared, he’d have been alarmed at how quickly his heartbeat sped up. The man walked quickly and purposefully toward the hidden corner of the yard. Only a few minutes of break left? Or was he trying to keep away from the cameras? Or…
Waiter paused, just before he moved out of camera range. Ken only had a view of his back by this time, but Waiter had shoved his hands in his trouser pockets, and the way it tightened the fabric over Waiter’s arse… Well, Ken wasn’t complaining.
Or was this another tease?
Whatever the reason for the sexy view, Ken’s groin was definitely interested in the effect. His cock warmed the inside of his boxers as it filled out. Ken couldn’t resist leaning his palm on his lap, feeling the hardening length, wanting to slip open his zip and slide his hand in to relieve the ache all through his lower body. Shit. He flushed, despite the fact there was no one to see his embarrassment. But jerking off was pretty much on the top of the list of things he shouldn’t be doing on the job, much higher up than making private calls or burying his nose in another doorstop volume of Game of Thrones.
Waiter shuffled about, his back half in view, and his head turned away. His hands were hidden in front of his body and he leaned to one side, resting his weight against the side of the nearest bin. His stance was for all the world like a casual smoker, snatching a few moments’ relaxation. But there was no telltale trail of smoke rising up. What was he doing? For a brief moment, he turned his head again, back toward the restaurant—and Ken’s view. Ken found himself leaning into the screen, peering to see if he recognised the grainy features. Was that a pair of glasses, or just a glint in the man’s eyes? Ken cursed the poor quality of that TV for probably the nine millionth time.
Something glimmered on the screen, just above Waiter’s chin. Ken’s eyes hurt from squinting. Had he just wet his lips? Ken could see the flicker of a tongue, the movement of Waiter’s hand as he lifted his fingers to his mouth. He was licking his fingers again. Maybe he’d just had another of those cruelly sticky snacks. Ken’s groin was aching again. He reckoned he must have been really wicked in a previous life—maybe two lives—to deserve torture like this. Pity he couldn’t remember enjoying any of it.
Waiter’s hand left his mouth and hovered around his waist. He’d turned his head away from the camera again, but his hips had twisted back toward it. Slim hips, long legs with a muscular look. Ken wondered if Ollie Robinson had ever been that tall. Could a guy add six inches to his height in two years? Ken’s email was plagued by plenty of spam offering three to eight inches in the lap area, but rarely in leg length.
Waiter’s hand patted almost aimlessly at the front of his trousers. He palmed the shape there, rubbing it gently up and down. He must be touching his dick, no question. Wrapping his fingers around the width of it, feeling the thickness. Ken moistened his own lips and wished he’d brought a bottle of water with him tonight. If he didn’t use it for the dryness in his mouth, he could douse his growing temperature by pouring it over his groin. Then worry later about how to explain it to Charlie when he arrived to take over. Meanwhile, Waiter had shifted his legs slightly wider apart, steadying his weight between them. He bent his elbow and his hand dived down into… Ken gaped. Into his trousers. Inside. Downward. Deep downward. Even if Ken didn’t have a full view of the man’s body, there was no ignoring that move. No young man of any level of self-sexual awareness could mistake that pastime. And as Ken watched, waiting for his brain to catch up with the truth from his eyes, Waiter started to move his hand up and down again—but this time from down inside his clothes. His back bowed and his shoulders stiffened against the bin. His knees pumped very gently as his hips thrust in time with his hand.
Oh my fucking God. Ken found his own hand in his lap. His gaze was fixed on the screen, but he had no trouble finding the button and zip by touch, and releasing them quickly. The relief of grasping his erection was astonishing. As Waiter’s body jerked in the dark, so did Ken’s in the dimmed light of the security room. I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore. He tried to be quiet, partly because the sensible side of his brain was appalled at what he was doing and was warning him about imminent discovery, but also partly because Waiter’s pleasure was all happening in silence, too. It was solidarity. Lust and need and relief and a weird kind of communion, even though there was no way he knew… Shut the hell up, brain! Ken finally surrendered trying to be logical or rational, and just tightened his grip on his cock. He prayed his concentration would hold out long enough to watch Waiter to the end. His head was already swimming, and tears of excitement had wet his lashes, misting his view.
Waiter started to sag, leaning more heavily against the bin. If he sinks to his knees…
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