Five times as many males as females are diagnosed with autism
Every year, students come through my classroom who are on the autism spectrum. and every year, I am happily astounded at the love and care my other students take and have with him or her.
I currently have a young man (a senior)who has Asperger's and is an integral part of the class. From the start of the semester, I have watched this young man blossom and thrive in my "participatory" class, working with others and sharing about himself.
The other students have opened their arms to him and taken him under their wing; group projects, debates, assistance when completing a task, my heart swells at their care.
Seeing this young man bloom and the interaction with the other student's makes my job worthwhile.
I currently have a young man (a senior)who has Asperger's and is an integral part of the class. From the start of the semester, I have watched this young man blossom and thrive in my "participatory" class, working with others and sharing about himself.
The other students have opened their arms to him and taken him under their wing; group projects, debates, assistance when completing a task, my heart swells at their care.
Seeing this young man bloom and the interaction with the other student's makes my job worthwhile.
~~~~~
GIVEAWAY
Eldridge's favorite drink is a frozen non-alcoholic pina colada. Tell me your summer indulgence for a chance to win a copy of Eldridge's Release.
Blurb
A world
Eldridge was meant to be in.
Eldridge
Cristoff worked hard and rarely played, always leery of letting himself go
after the humiliation he suffered at the hands of his college boyfriend. Best
friend Isabella Catana, submissive and lover of Johnson Petri, invited him to a
night at an upscale BDSM club, Club Rebellion-owned and operated by Johnson and
his trio of friends. All dominants.
Dalton
Peters has never collared his own sub nor had the desire until he met Eldridge.
Dalton was immediately taken with the skittish man, deciding to make it his
mission to release Eldridge from his sexual prison.
Slowly
Eldridge realized the world he was meant to be in. A loving man and master at
his side; he discovered submission was not a weakness but a true testament of
his strong inner spirit.
With
Dalton's careful guidance, Eldridge had no choice but to give into his desires
and heart, allowing Dalton to dominate his body and soul.
Excerpt
Eldridge
parked his car, popped a wintergreen breath freshener in his mouth, and headed
toward the entrance. He walked up to the nondescript, solid black door that had
no peephole, nervously wiped his hands against the leather pants, and rang the
bell.
The
building was located in the swankier section of Philadelphia and sported its
own parking lot, which was a rarity in the city as most establishments utilized
city parking garages or the street. From that, Eldridge surmised that the place
had been doing very well. By the layout of the parking lot, he could tell the area
used to house a building that had been torn down to create the space.
He
shouldn't have been sweating in the outfit he wore. Eldridge was told -- no,
ordered -- to wear his black leathers. They were soft as butter to the touch
and so skintight his package was outlined. He also wore a white close-fitting
muscle shirt and a jacket. He'd tried to get underwear on; even a jock, but the
pants were so tight that any seams showed through, so he elected to go
commando. He couldn't believe that he'd been talked into the outfit. He'd
bought the leathers as a joke for a party he'd attended. They'd been very
expensive, so Eldridge never threw them out. But he never thought he'd be
wearing them again. And definitely not to a club.
He
waited less than twenty seconds after pressing the illuminated button before a
very large man in blue jeans and a black T-shirt opened the door. After
stepping over the threshold, Eldridge looked up and noticed the camera above
the door. He handed the bouncer his invitation with the club's logo on it -- a
raised CR in black with a muted gray picture of a flogger in
the background.
The
tattooed gentleman nodded and said, "Good evening, Mr. Cristoff."
How in
the hell would he know me? I've never been to the club before. Although
they did have his picture on file from the background check that the club had
performed before sending the invitation.
The
bouncer, Sam, according to the embossed name on his T-shirt, pointed to the
next set of double doors and told Eldridge to go right in. But not before
placing a red band on his wrist emblazoned with the word Guest.
Eldridge
was amazed he'd heard nothing from the other side; not a sound. The
walls must be soundproof. What the hell have I gotten in to?
Red
leather covered the surface of the double-access, and Eldridge felt like he was
walking into an alternate universe. The problem was, he had no idea what
universe he'd ambled into. At first glance, it looked like any other club --
people sitting at the bar, tables, and booths while talking, laughing, and
drinking. Then he got a better look at the clientele. Men and women appeared in
various stages of dress and undress. He tried not to gawk, but it was
difficult. While heading to the bar, he spied a woman attached to a long chain
by her nipples and casually strolling with a man holding the other end. Shit.What
the hell have I gotten into?
The club
was beautiful and sleek. An artist would say the straight lines and dark, muted
colors enhanced the desired atmosphere. Almost everything was leather -- sofas,
chairs, barstools, even the edge of the bar. The color scheme was black or
white with gray or subdued yellow accents. The lighting was low but sufficient
to give a secure and homey feeling. Mirrors and abstract art adorned the walls.
Eldridge didn't understand the point of abstract art, but from what he saw, the
décor went perfectly with the club.
"Piña
colada. Nonalcoholic, please." He leaned forward and spoke to the
bartender. He loved a fruity drink, and that one was his favorite. Chunks of
coconut and bits of pineapple. Was a piña colada cliché for a gay guy? He
didn't care.
As he
took his beverage, Eldridge turned around in hopes of finding Isabella and her
boyfriend. He spotted Issy waving to him before he'd even completed the turn
and walked toward the couple. The two were comfortably ensconced on a white
leather sofa with Issy perched on Johnson's lap and her head tucked under his
chin. Eldridge stopped in his tracks. The couple looked absolutely beautiful
together and completely content.
Isabella
hadn't had an easy life prior to meeting Johnson. Afterward, it took time for
the Dominant/submissive thing to run smoothly. Their late-night talks had given
Eldridge an earful regarding Issy and Johnson's relationship. He knew his
friend had truly found peace in her life, whatever the lifestyle may've been.
He made
his way to the couch where they were seated and could see what appeared to be a
stage. Actually, there appeared to be three raised zones lit with various
degrees of lighting. The center one was subdued, but the flanking areas were
lit. One sported what looked like a large X-shaped structure. If
Eldridge remembered correctly, Issy had told him that it was called a St.
Andrew's cross. A woman was attached to it and was being flogged by a very
large man. Eldridge was too far away to hear any of the sounds coming from the
woman, but if her expression was any indication, she was enjoying herself very
much.
As
Eldridge leaned down to greet Issy with a peck on the cheek, he noticed the man
sitting on the far end of the sofa. Yum. Scary. Dominant. It
was easy to surmise based on the way the man carried himself even in a sitting
position and the way he was dressed that he was probably a Dom. Once Issy had
convinced Eldridge to visit the establishment and after he'd filled out all the
necessary paperwork, he'd perused a few sites on the Internet so he could at
least know the difference between a Dom and a sub.
The club
sported the lifestyle, as Issy liked to describe it. It was a way
of life that for some unknown reason Issy felt her bestie needed to explore.
Issy was a submissive when it came to her home life. At work, she was a total
go-getter that took a stance on designs and implementation. And she bossed
around even the largest men. But in her domestic life, she allowed Johnson to
rule the roost; from Eldridge's perspective, anyway.
The only
problem was, Eldridge didn't know if he completely agreed with the lifestyle.
How could a person give that much control to another? Although, if Eldridge
really, really, thought about it, the idea did spark something inside him. He
was always in control at work, but sometimes he wanted someone else to take the
reins. He wanted to relax, but it scared the hell out of him to allow someone
else to rule.
Eldridge
wanted to sit at the feet of the man at the end of the sofa, which completely
threw him for a loop, and he immediately locked the thought away in the
recesses of his brain. The last time he wanted to sit at a man's feet, he was
told that he was depraved and sick. Damn, Ned had done a number on him. He'd
done unimaginable things to him. Ned had turned out to be sick in his physical
and emotional treatment of Eldridge. Not that Eldridge desired to be physically
hurt, but he did crave more. As confused as he was, he didn't know what
the more was. Isabella thought she knew what he needed.
He
kissed Issy on the cheek and shook Johnson's hand.
"El,
this is Dalton. One of my partners in the club." Johnson spoke as he
pointed to the man at the far end of the arc-shaped sofa.
Eldridge
crossed over to stand in front of Dalton. Dalton stood and extended his hand in
greeting. The grip was strong and solid. His eyes raked Eldridge up and down.
El
supposed he was a good-looking guy. At least that's what Issy had always told
him. She called him man-pretty -- not completely masculine and
not necessarily feminine. Man-pretty. At times, he wasn't sure if
that was an insult or a compliment. He'd always known he was gay. When their
classmates were looking at the opposite gender, Eldridge always looked at the
boys. He loved the hard and delineated lines of their chest; not soft mounds
that protruded and got in the way. Girls' breasts, yuck.
His
family knew he was gay. He'd come out to them in his early teens. His parents were
supportive and accepting even though it probably wasn't the lifestyle they
would've chosen for him. He never brought boys home as dates, so his parents
were fine with his homosexuality as long as it wasn't flaunted in their faces.
Sometimes Eldridge felt very lonely, but at least he had Issy.
He
wasn't the biggest, tallest, or most talkative in their current circle of
friends. In fact, when he wasn't in the boardroom and high-strung from all the
intensive work he did to keep his clients rolling in money, he could've been
classified as a wallflower; reclusive. Eldridge didn't mind going out for a
drink or two with Issy and Johnson or his coworkers, but he very much preferred
to be by himself.
Finding
the right man to date was hard. Eldridge didn't know how women were on the
prowl all the time. His introverted personality made contacting a stranger
difficult. But there had to be someone out there for him, didn't there?
Eldridge
gauged the man before him with rapt attention. Damn, he thought as
he tilted his head back to get a better view. Large was the first word that
popped into Eldridge's mind. An imposing figure, Dalton had to be at least
six-feet six-inches tall. El wondered if the size of his cock matched his
height.
His
pants became tighter than they already were, and his face heated as he
continued to stare from beneath his lowered eyelashes. Hair so blond that it
was almost white hung past his shoulders, held back with a leather thong. The
strands looked silky. But what really drew Eldridge were his eyes -- cobalt
blue, piercing, and the kind that could look straight into a man's soul.
Eldridge shook his head as if coming out of a fog and composed himself.
That was
someone Eldridge would want to get to know better. Eldridge didn't even know if
he was gay. There was no way someone that large and masculine could be gay.
Okay,
maybe he was stereotyping but he was most likely a Dom to boot. Some
woman would be very lucky to land this fine specimen of a man.
But
Dalton held Eldridge's hand just a touch too long for a casual handshake, and
something sparked briefly in his eyes.
"Nice
to meet you, Dalton."
~~~~~
2018 ©Evelise Archer All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.