Dreaming of Brandon Archer

141 Pages·2011·0.65 MB·English

by  Manly D J

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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are
products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Dreaming of Brandon Archer
Copyright © 2005 D. J. Manly
ISBN: 1-55410-657-5
Cover art and design by Martine Jardin All rights reserved. Except for use in any
review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any
form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter
invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Published by eXtasy Books, a division of Zumaya Publications, 2005
Look for us online at:
www.zumayapublications.com
www.extasybooks.com

The author gratefully acknowledges the contribution of excerpts from the
following authors at eXtasy books: Brandon Archer:
Christmas With Wistan.
Gabriella Bradley: Call Of The Wild.
Stardust, Starlust Jan Kramer and Cameron Hale: Tomorrow’s Dawn
Rian Monaire:
Those Hills
Cyber Daemon
Chapter One
ell, thanks Max, you just ruined another
“H one,” he announced, hurling his jacket to the floor in frustration.
“I didn’t ruin anything! If I didn’t know you any better, Eric, I’d say you had
shit for brains.”
“Don’t start with me, Max,” he glared at him.
“I’m not in the mood.”
Max folded his arms across his chest. “You know what your problem is?”
“No, but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“Every time you get a date, you think with your cock instead of your brain. That
guy was an absolute loser, and from the angle I was at, I could tell that his cock
was about the size of a…”
“Enough!” Eric came toward him, pointing. “At least he had a cock. At this
point, any cock will do.
Did you ever think that maybe, just maybe…” he narrowed his eyes, “his cock
was all I was interested in?”
“Not wise. You can get yourself into a lot of trouble that way.”
“I don’t want you coming along on anymore dates.”
“That should be easy; you don’t have very many dates for me to come along on.
Wasn’t this the first one since…ah…last June?”
Eric shot him the nastiest look he could muster.
“Looks that kill don’t intimidate me, Eric. I’m already dead, remember?”
“It’s a damn good thing you’re dead…” he grunted, “because if you weren’t, I’d
“It’s a damn good thing you’re dead…” he grunted, “because if you weren’t, I’d
kill you myself.”
“Sticks and stones; you’ll thank me later.”
“Sure, when I’m alone in my bed
masturbating,” he muttered, throwing himself on the sofa.
“If you’d let me, I could take care of…”
“Don’t even go there. Now, for Christ’s sakes, go away and leave me in peace.”
Max was sitting in his favourite spot on the ceiling fan, swinging his dumpy legs
off the side of one of the blades. Eric could make out the faint outline of his
plump little body. His ruddy cheeks were glowing, casting a reflection off the far
wall.
Clad in green pants and a paisley vest, he resembled a tiny leprechaun. All he
needed was the little hat.
“Personally,” Max was saying now, fingering his chin, “I think it’s better if I
stick around. When you’re in this mood, you, ah…now, Eric,” he said, removing
his hand from his chin, and watching as he got up off the sofa, “what do you
think you’re doing?”

Eric was now standing in front of the wall switch, his hand inching towards it
menacingly.
“Don’t turn that on. Don’t you dare!”
He gave Max a grin of pure evil, then flipped up the switch.
Max let out a shout as he began to turn round and round on one of the blades,
then went billowing off into the air, only to go splat against the wall “There you
go, you little creep,” Eric told him between clenched teeth.
Even though Max was just pretending to be affected by the fan, at least he’d got
rid of him for now.
Max had attached himself to him around two years ago when he was out on a
Max had attached himself to him around two years ago when he was out on a
routine poltergeist assignment. He had been called to this huge house, more like
a mansion really, where the new owners had reported some unusual activity.
It was nothing major; some furniture scrambled about, sounds in the night. One
of those assignments where you did the job, took your money, and thought that it
was just too easy. After an initial investigation, he decided that it wasn’t even
worth bringing in the entire team. Getting rid of the spirits should have been
easy. In fact, it would have been, if it hadn’t been for Max.
As it turned out, the three spirits who had attached themselves to the house since
its erection in the early eighteenth century were previous owners. It was an
extremely charismatic house.

After some fairly light persuasion, they had agreed that it was time to vacate the
premises, all except for Max.
Max had been the owner of the house in the end of the eighteen hundreds. He let
him know, in no uncertain terms, that he had no intention of leaving. No matter
what Eric did, Max resisted. It came down to a power of wills. Both of them
were determined to win.
During the two weeks he wrestled with Max, something quite enigmatic
occurred; Max grew attached to him. In fact, when he finally revealed himself,
he declared that he was in love with him.
“I’ve decided to let you win, Eric,” he said, in a voice laced with an Irish accent.
“You’re a beautiful and charming lad, and I’m in love with you.”
He had been stunned. Recovering himself, he ignored the loving him part, and
concentrated on the fact that Max had agreed to leave. “A good choice, Max,” he
told him.
Max stood there in plain view, rubbing his chin thoughtfully, then said quite
simply, “I’ve decided you need me.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You need my guidance. You are quite good with ghosts, but probably not so
“You need my guidance. You are quite good with ghosts, but probably not so
good with the living. I’m leaving the house, and coming with you.”
Eric laughed. “I don’t think so. Your spirit is attached to this place, Max. You
can’t leave it.”

“Those people who knew me in life, Eric, realised that I did exactly what I
wanted. It’s no different in death.”
“Scientifically, your spirit is…”
“To hell with science. I’m coming with you.”
“Max, don’t be ridiculous. Your spirit can’t leave this house.”
“Wanna bet?”
If he would have bet, he would have lost.
“Besides,” Max said, “I told you. I love you, Eric.”
Great. The only guy who was in love with him was a tiny little Irishman, and he
was dead.
And that was that. Eric had walked out of that house, and Max had come with
him. Since then, it had been an absolute nightmare. Not only did Max interfere
with everything he did, from dating to dressing; he made it next to impossible to
appear sane. Being a spirit hunter was weird enough, but having a ghost follow
him around everywhere, was even worse. Talk about bringing his work home
with him!
It was true that his last date was over six months ago. Max had come along on
that one, too.
The guy practically ran out of the restaurant when Max decided to pick his plate
off the table and bang it back down again, not once, but three times.
He sighed now, thinking about the guy he had almost brought home tonight.
Jake was handsome, a little shy, very interested in spirits. In fact, he didn’t seem
too disturbed when he told him what he did for a living. Everything was going
too disturbed when he told him what he did for a living. Everything was going
well until Max kept emptying the guy’s glass every time he wasn’t looking. The
first time, Jake accepted his explanation that he had drunk it already. The second
time, he looked sceptical. The third time, downright hostile. It didn’t help either,
that every few seconds Eric was turning around to hiss admonishments at Max,
who was sitting on a stool next to him at the bar. After Jake saw him do that a
couple of times, he was out of there. Who could blame him?
So, basically that was his life; chasing ghosts and trying to keep Max from
getting him locked away somewhere. Neither of those things encouraged the
gorgeous men to come clawing at his door. Both his career and his constant
companion were stressful enough; couple that with an empty bed, and you would
have had a recipe for severe depression if not for Ruby Red.
Eric had always been an avid reader. When he became an adolescent and the
visions became unmanageable, he often was able to keep them at bay by losing
himself in a good story. As he grew older, he became fond of romantic fiction
with a heavy twist of the erotic. The one highlight of his life was the editing he
did for Ruby Red, an e-publisher on the Internet. This company published
everything from traditional romance to the super steamy hot stuff. This is when
he truly relaxed and forgot about everything. Words had always seduced him.
There was one scene out of a book called Stardust, Starlust by Gabriella
Bradley, a particularly beautifully written passage that he always read whenever
he felt especially stressed out. He had practically memorized it. It began:
Glancing down at her skin, she noticed it glowed with a soft brilliance.
Carefully, she reached out and felt the bark of a tree. A branch reached out and
encircled her waist. Another branch stroked her long dark hair, her face,
touched her breasts. She drew in her breath when she felt a probing between her
legs. Looking down, she noticed a branch touching her legs, pushing to pry her
legs apart.
A wanton feeling of abandonment entered her. These trees were alive, they
reached out for her, wanted to examine her body…The strangeness of her
surroundings and the thought of a tree’s branches wandering over her body
excited her. She leaned forward and hugged the trunk pushing her body hard
against it. Its bark was very smooth, silky soft, as if the trees were covered with
velvety fabric. Spreading her legs, she allowed the probing of her clit. Something
entered her vagina. It felt slippery, comforting, as it stroked the inner walls,
twirled around, and sent her to the heights of ecstasy.
She trembled and felt her flesh pucker as a fire slowly started within her and
brought her to heights of sexual pleasure. When she climaxed, the branches
released her.
She looked down at her inner thighs and watched the pearly juices of her release
flow down her silken skin to her knees. She sighed with pleasure and ached for
more, but a branch urged her gently forward into the unknown.
A gentle perfumed breeze wafted suddenly past her, surrounded her with a rose
like scent. It stroked her body and made leaves above rustle.
It was strange that there were no other sounds, no animal noises, just like the
sound of the forest and the wind. It almost sounded as if the wind were acting
like a lullaby to soothe unseen inhabitants of the forest to sleep.

Although he had learned to control the psychic visions he received now,
immersing himself in a fantasy world of reading and editing books eased the
loneliness.
One evening when he went looking for
something to read, he found Ruby Red Books. The first book he read there was
one called Cyber Daemon by Rian Monaire. It had made such an impression on
him; it had hooked him on Ruby Red for life. He found Cyber Daemon erotic
and haunting…a romp into the forbidden exotic. The scene he especially
recalled, and Eric had the ability to memorise entire passages of text if they
affected him in a certain way, was the scene where the main character was being
seduced in a way she never realised she could… Completing her visual probe,
the woman smiled, a dark, eminently sensual grin, and strolled across the room.
Jessica could smell her perfume, a delicate scent that reminded her of a bouquet
of violets picked from the darkest patches of the yard.
Not taking her eyes from Jessica’s, she murmured, “I can see it, you do want
me.”
Jessica started. I want to do what now? “Sorry, I don’t fly that way.”
The woman grinned. “Yes, you do.”
Eric shook himself back to reality. Damn that Rian Monaire. She had really
taken him somewhere with those words.
Ruby Red not only offered him great literature in a variety of forms, but they had
good quality erotica literature of the male/male variety.
Finding this genre of book with a good story to it was no easy task. A lot of the
stuff he’d already read was just pornography. Given his sexual orientation, he
longed for a story between two men; with lots of sex, of course, but with a heavy
twist of romantic fantasy. He wanted to read a love story…something besides
‘bam slam…thank you sir,’ although there was nothing wrong with that
sometimes. Except for the work of best selling author Brandon Archer, those
kinds of stories were virtually nonexistent.
Brandon Archer was in a class all his own. His first book, Swallowed Whole,
was excellent. The few that followed were also very good, so erotic, and so
romantic. The last one however, Summer Heat, wasn’t his best work. It was well
written, but you could tell he didn’t enjoy writing it, not like the first ones…and
it was more pornography than erotica.
Brandon Archer was one of his favourite writers. Not only was he talented, he
was adorable. He’d seen his picture on the back of his books, and in magazines.
He had been quoted as saying that he wrote from experience, and when Eric read
his work, he couldn’t help but picture him engaging in sex acts. He’d gone
though a hell of a lot of tissues reading Brandon.
Although he had been willing to shell out the twenty or thirty dollars for
Archer’s books, it was getting expensive; especially the way he devoured novels.
Moreover, Brandon Archer hadn’t published anything new in awhile. So, he
bought one of those palm readers, and began to take a look at the electronic
books. When he ran across Ruby Red Books, he was impressed. The quality was
excellent, the writing superb, and they were starting to acquire a good line of
male/male erotica with a real romantic flavour. Given his track record with men,
and thanks to his tag a long ghost, these books provided some much needed
release on a variety of levels.
Then, he read on their website that they were looking for an editor. He’d done
some editing when he was in college for the school newspaper.