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High-Risk Fever

Erotic GLBT/gay multipartner/ménage published in November 2014.
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The French Alps

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Heavy rain assaulted the windows and the asphalt outside in a steady, monotonous beat. Playful gusts of wind toyed with the open shutters, provoking small creaks. Raindrops zigzagged on the glass panes in a random maze. If she had any time, she would take a pause to go to the window and watch the wet patterns form and change, dreamily losing herself in their dance.

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“Anne?” She spun around and stifled a gasp. The handsome Italian stood cross-armed in the doorframe. Despite tired eyes and cold clothes glued to his body—spandex pants leaving nothing to the imagination—his lips were flushed in contrast with his pale, damp skin, and he exuded the same charismatic self-confidence as earlier. He smiled. His first gesture of kindness since they’d met, so touching, her chest ached, and so surprising, it took her a while to recover.

The Bed & Breakfast

A distant boom of thunder made Anne look up from the dinner table, wiping cloth in hand. Outside, black clouds built above the hill tops in the horizon, threatening to embrace the small mountain village. “Hmm, looks like the weather’s changing again.” Nodding, she returned to the wooden table and removed the remaining breakfast crumbs. “We’re in for another one, Brian.”

These storms came quickly in the Alps, grazing the snow covered, fork-like peaks before diving into the deep valleys and ravaging them with inhuman force. After a few hours, the darkness would vanish as if wiped away by a magic wand, once again leaving the villageois with a familiar sense of awe and the tourists reeling in shock at the power of nature.

Anne looked up into his face, seeing him for the first time. How in the world had she missed such a jewel earlier? Among tanned, Latin features, a pair of black diamonds sparkling with mischief stared back without shame. His long, black locks were swept back in a ponytail, revealing a single golden earring in his left lobe. Large chest muscles heaved beneath a tight, pink spandex shirt, begging to be caressed by a woman’s hand, and black chest hairs peeked from the open collar.

Anne tugged at her trapped hand. “Please.” “Oh.” Feigning surprise, the dark beauty lifted an eyebrow and removed his hand, allowing her to retrieve hers. “Sorry,” he added, rolling a thick R with his tongue, keeping his lips parted a second too long. A move so deliberately naughty, her stomach knotted with need. As she retreated, he studied her face with a grin, arrogance and amusement gleaming in his dark eyes, before turning his attention to the two other men.

Todd leaned forward to grab his handlebars and plowed on the pedals. His tires crushed tiny stones on the wet asphalt, spraying them to the sides, the sound ricocheting between house walls. The Italian seemed to hesitate. His mesmerizing black diamonds met her gaze and sharpened. Rain splashed on his cheekbones, giving his tanned skin a glow. What? She raised a brow at him. He ripped his look away from her, sent her husband a courteous nod, and followed his blond friend down the street.