The Coital Charade

     This is the literary version of the thirty second samples you can hear when shopping for music online: you don't get the entire creation, but a taste of what it's like.  If you're here, you came from Facebook, my Patreon.com page, a note, or a URL scribbled on the wall of a Porta-Potty.      Keep in mind: the Coital Charade stories are serialized.  The post titles will include the general date in the timeline of the saga, and what gets posted will jump around all over the place.  Don't feel confused if you feel a bit lost: you're missing a whole lotta story.  The idea is you can grasp the tenor of my writing and the characters who will be appearing.  Also, the excerpts will change periodically, old ones will come down and new ones will go up, so don't expect bookmarks to stay valid long. Book One Now Available!      The first two Coital Charade collections are available for pre-order through Smashwords, Barn...

     Excluding meth addicts, not once has anyone ever received a phone call at four a.m. that was good news.  That pattern held for me the next morning.  The Oceanside Fire Department was ringing me up to say there had been a fire at the Inana studio.      I sat bolt upright, then relaxed some as the fireman continued, "Don't worry, no structure or vehicle was damaged.  It would appear someone lobbed three Molotov cocktails over the fence towards the warehouse --- your studio --- but fell short with all three.  Beyond some scorched places in your lot, there is no damage here.  Nonetheless, if you'd be willing, we'd like you to come down and talk with us a bit."      "I'm in Encinitas, gimme twenty minutes," I told him.  Bekka got nudged awake and told what had happened, and I'd be gone a while.  I pulled on clothes, then stepped into the bathroom for a few quick hits off the glass pipe to clear the cobwebs...

Inana Productions as a booth at an LA adult video convention named "Eroticon."  Naturally, Bekka, Lenny, and other Inana folks are working.  It's Saturday evening in January 1991.....      Around five Bekka and I each ate another hit of the Ecstasy.  I'd stupidly left my vial of speed in the motel room, and we didn't feel like walking back to get it.  Well, the "MA" in MDMA is short for MethAmphetamine, so we were simply changing up from our usual method of ingestion.  Maybe for the party/dance happening after we closed, we'd find someplace semi-private to crush up a pill and snort it up.  We knew it worked.      It was time for a break from the booth.  We decided to go exploring, see what others had to offer.  Bekka said to me, "Give me the bag of pills."      "Okay.  Why?" I asked.      "Because I'm going to get people happy, dammit.  We'll give them out as party favors f...