Title: The Mayor of Oak Street
Author: Vincent Traughber Meis
Publisher: NineStar Press
Release Date: 06/14/2021
Heat Level: 2 - Fade to Black Sex
Pairing: Male/Male
Length: 88400
Genre: Contemporary, LGBTQIA+, age-gap, coming-of-age, coming out, college, political, friends to lovers, period piece, reunited
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Description
In the 1960s, Midwestern boy and Boy Scout, Nathan delivers newspapers and mows lawns. Nathan uses his cover to move about yards and sneak into the homes of his neighbors, uncovering their secrets.
In high school, one of the local misfits introduces him to diet pills, which help him overcome his shyness. In an amphetamine high, he meets Cindy, who he hopes will steer him along the “morally straight” path of the Boy Scout Oath he swore to.
Nathan is infatuated with a young doctor down the street, Nicholas (Dr. B), who embodies all the things his mother would love him to be. On one of his secret forays in Dr. B’s house, he hides in a closet and witnesses his idol having sex with man while the wife is out of town. Dr. B’s affair leads to tragedy, forcing the doctor to leave town.
At college in New Orleans, Nathan meets a group of rebels and expands his drug use. Marc, a bisexual Cajun charmer becomes Nathan’s first male sexual experience, but promptly leaves town.
Nathan has a chance encounter with Dr. B, who has moved to New Orleans. Dr. B is in a relationship, but still closeted. Frustrated by Dr. B’s cool reaction, Nathan goes on a six-month binge of amphetamines and anonymous sex. On one night of debauchery, he overdoses and ends up in the emergency ward.
Nathan’s near death rallies Dr. B and Nathan’s other friends to force him into rehab. On the way home from work, Nathan witnesses the gruesome aftermath of the 1973 Up Stairs Lounge fire that devastated the gay population of New Orleans. As a result of the fire, Dr. B’s live-in boyfriend leaves town, freeing Dr. B to explore his feelings for Nathan.
Exclusive Excerpt
The Mayor of Oak Street
Vincent Traughber Meis © 2021
All Rights Reserved
Marc waved his hands in the air. “It’s the Earth. This bed is like a microcosm of the planet, spinning around, tilting toward and away from the sun, holding millions of people. It’s a wonder we don’t fall off as we move through space.”
“The traveling through space scene was so intense in the movie,” said Sherry. “I glanced at you, Nate, and you were not of this Earth. Gone, gone, gone.”
“I know.”
Marc rose on his elbow and looked at me. “He speaks.”
I nodded.
“Oops, gone again.”
Sherry got up to go to the bathroom.
“I think we better follow Meredith’s example and take a Quaalude,” said Marc.
I reached in my pocket and pulled out a couple of pills wrapped in a square of toilet paper.
“Well, look at you. You came prepared.”
“I’m a Boy Scout.”
He burst out laughing. “Me, I was too. Can you believe it?” He took one of the pills and fed it to me, his fingers touching my lips, smelling of oranges.
“Ick! It tastes horrible.” I took the other and put it to his lips.
“I share in your suffering, me. Yes, it’s bad, bad. Want I get some wada?”
“Too late now.” I had swallowed, but the metallic taste kept popping around my tongue.
“Poor babies.” Sherry was standing at the door watching us.
“There’s one on the dresser for you. They’re from Mexico, so I don’t know if they’re as good as what you high-class people get from the health service.”
Sherry took the pill, but she had brought a glass of water from the bathroom to wash it down. “Water anyone?”
Marc reached for the glass. “Please.” He took a sip and passed it to me.
Sherry lay back down. “You guys are too cute.”
I passed the water glass to Sherry, and when my hand fell to the bed, it landed on Marc’s. He moved his hand, but not to take it away. He rested it on top of mine and adjusted our fingers so that they were interlaced. “Your hands are cold, cold,” said Marc.
Sherry let out a sound, something like, “Ah.”
I was hyperaware of everything around me. I smelled the leather of his pants, the night coming in the open window, the soap Sherry had washed her hands with, the expectation of my own breath.
“Would you guys do something for me?” said Sherry.
Marc released my hand and again rose on his elbow, looking across me at her. “I’m inclined to say yes. Maybe you better tell us quick before we think about it too much.”
“I want to see you guys kiss.”
“Oh, that’s easy.” He leaned down and planted his lips on mine. It was only a moment, but the whiskers of his chin brushed mine. My heart bumped against my ribs.
“I mean a real kiss, damnit.”
He tilted his head slightly as if asking my permission, and I nodded almost imperceptibly. He moved his body half on top of me, put his hand on the side of my face, and brushed his lips over mine before planting his mouth solidly. I put my arm around his back and pulled him close. I tasted the bitter Quaalude and the sweetness of the fruit he had eaten before. I tasted love and caring. My experience in kissing was limited. I imagined his was not. We let it happen, let tongues go where they wanted, let lips nibble without any sense of time or social constraints telling us what we could and couldn’t do.
“Now that’s more like it.” We might have felt bad for Sherry except we knew intuitively she allowed us this indulgence, encouraged it. “I’m going to leave you two alone.”
Marc disengaged long enough to say, “You don’t have to. This is as far as I go on a first date, me.” And then he dove back in, our legs now entangled. I loved touching his hair, pulling on a curl and letting it spring back into place. He ran his finger along the ridges of my ear. The drugs running through our bloodstreams loosened the inhibitions, but for my part, and I was inclined to believe on his, it was something we wanted. After a time, he pulled back again. “Air break.”
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Meet the Author
Vincent Traughber Meis started writing plays as a child in the Midwest and cajoled his sisters to act in performing them for neighbors. In high school, one of his short stories won a local contest sponsored by the newspaper. After graduating from college, he worked on a number of short stories and began his first novel. In the 1980’s and 90’s he published a number of pieces, mostly travel articles in publications such as, The Advocate, LA Weekly, In Style, and Our World. His travels have inspired his five novels, all set at least partially in foreign countries: Eddie’s Desert Rose (2011), Tio Jorge (2012), and Down in Cuba (2013), Deluge (2016) and Four Calling Burds (2019). Tio Jorge received a Rainbow Award in the category of Bisexual Fiction in 2012. Down in Cuba received two Rainbow Awards in 2013. Recently stories have been published in three collections: WITH:New Gay Fiction, Best Gay Erotica Vol 1 and Best Gay Erotica Vol 4. He lives in San Leandro, CA with his husband.Website | Facebook | Twitter | Instagram
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