(It’s still Friday until I go to bed, right? Sorry I’m late – my hand’s been bugging me and typing is a struggle. But I haven’t missed a week yet, and I don’t intend to start today.)

Another bonus point to the people who can recognize the inspiration for this one.

(Archives are on the website, if you want to read the offerings of past weeks)

Raven
(c) 2008 by Maura Anderson, all rights reserved

There he was!

The tall, muscular man followed the hostess through the sparsely occupied restaurant, striding fluidly to the rearmost table. He’d done the same thing every Thursday night for at least the last two months, since Aaron had started working this shift. Until now he’d been forced to admire him from afar, but this week Aaron had finally persuaded Rachel to switch sections with him so he could serve the man who now fueled his dreams and fantasies.

This week his familiar black jeans and worn harness boots were accented by a dark green tee shirt. The soft fabric of the obviously well worn shirt clung to his generous muscles. Aaron wanted to drool at the mere hint of the scupted body beneath the cotton. Aaron realized the bold black pattern wrapped around the man’s arm was a raven tattoo. Exotic, dangerous and very sexy.

The man sat with his back to the wall, as always, alternating between watching the restaurant’s front door and glancing through the dinner menu. He must be waiting for the stockier blonde man that usually joined him for dinner.

“Aren’t you going to greet him, Aaron?”

The other waiter’s amused voice broke his paralysis. With a start, he took a deep breath and trying to ease the nervous flutters in his stomach.

The man glanced up as Aaron neared the table. The man turned out to have surprisingly pale skin but his hair was an intense blue-black and was drawn back into a tight, long braid. Lush lashes framed equally intense eyes so light they seemed silver. His slightly hooked nose and sharp cheekbones gave him an almost predatory appearance.

Aaron had to swallow twice before he could force out a description of today’s specials. Those silver eyes seemed to see into his soul – he could only hope that he didn’t glance down at the erection straining his black slacks.

Instead the man nodded and smiled slightly. Hell, even a casual smile made Aaron’s cock jerk in excitement. He’d dreamed about this man for weeks, stroked his cock and pretended it was this man’s hands. Ached to be filled by him.

“I’d like some water, please. And some for my guest. He should be here shortly.” Raspy and deep, even the man’s voice was a turn on.

Aaron struggled to form a coherent answer. “Certainly, sir. I’ll get that for you now.”

“Raven, sorry I’m late.” The blonde man had arrived and now Aaron had a name to put to the man’s face. A name to cry out when he came.

Aaron’s face grew hot. “I’ll get the water,” he muttered as he turned and fled. He could almost feel Raven’s eyes following him.

Only partially successful in calming himself down, Aaron set the glasses of ice water on the small server tray and braced himself to approach the two men and take their order. The blonde man was chattering away at Raven, who sat leaned back in his chair and looked amused and perhaps a bit bored.

Rather than sliding the water glass across the table, Aaron stepped behind the table to serve Raven from the side. As if in slow motion, he felt his foot catch the edge of the chair leg and his body lurched forward, tray and drinks sliding from his hands directly onto Raven’s lap.

Raven’s mouth and eyes opened wide in shock at the sudden coldness of the ice water. He gasped wordlessly and almost tipped his chair open in an attempt to escape.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Aaron babbled apologies as he snatched up the glasses and tray. He gathered up the big ice cubes and tossed them onto the tray to dispose of. Once he’d picked up the worst of it, Raven pushed back from the table even further and tried to brush off what water he could and wring out his shirt.

His pants were a different matter.

Aaron dropped to his knees beside Raven’s chair and began to blot up the water soaked into Raven’s jeans with his bar towel. His mortification at his slip was mixing with his longing to be doing more than sopping up water from this man’s pants. He wanted to be in Raven’s pants.

“I think our little blue-eyed waiter likes you, Raven.” The other man’s voice was obviously amused.

When he looked up and met Raven’s searching gaze, all he could do was nod.

I was speaking to someone at Epicon and, in the course of conversation, we touched on the difference between writing a series and writing a serial. Note that these are the definitions that I tend to use and may vary slightly from the definitions of others.

A series is a set of two or more full stories that share one or more commonalities. That commonality may be a world, one or more characters, a key concept, specific plot devices, etc.

Del Fantasma books (from Aspen Mountain Press) are a series – they share the following:

• a basic world, a continuity character (Cody)
• a location (the Del Fantasma Bar)
• a plot device (they all have drinks that relate somehow to the story)
• a genre (they are all paranormals)

A serial, on the other hand, is a story that is told in discrete sections over a period of time, often without a pre-determined ending. Think “soap opera” – those are serials. Some authors publish serials on their websites or mailing lists as well as in magazines or other venues.

The wonderful WitchGiggles said (in part):

This is a story with all the elements; distrust, fear, lust turning to trust, love and acceptance, good sex scenes and fully rounded characters. Great fun to read.

You can read the full review on the Alternative-Read review blog but you should read some of the other reviews as well – it’s a great review site and I love their takes on different stories.