Title	Melting the Slopes Anthology
Author	William Maltese
	Jason Edding
	Ethan Day
ISBN#	978-1-60820-084-9 (print) $14.99
	978-1-60820-085-9 (ebook) $6.99
Release Date	December 2009
Cover Artist	Deana C. Jamroz
Paperback:	249 pages

How much heat do two men need to melt so much snow? Stories from three of the hottest gay erotic romance writers in the genre will show you. Feel the heat with William Maltese, Jason Edding and Ethan Day.

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Chapter One

My eyes fluttered open, and the overcast daylight filtering in from the huge picture window slowly came into focus. was looking out over a panorama of snowy mountains dotted with sprouts of green from the evergreens that poked through the white blanket. The small mountain town of Summit City, Colorado, stretched out along the floor of the valley below. The light drizzle of snow was softly floating from sky to ground. I heard rustling coming from behind me and I sat up, realizing I didn’t know where I was.

I lifted my hand to my forehead as the dull, achy-throbbing began – my hangover waking up with me. How much had I had to drink last night? Not that it took much, but damn. I rubbed my temple and cringed as the swimming in my head began to settle. One more thing I blame Phillip for. I looked down, realizing I was naked, and was startled again by the rustling to my side. Slowly turning my head toward the source of the disruption, my eyes widened taking in the wide, expansive muscular back.

I quietly began to scoot toward the edge of the bed and winced from the twinge of pain coming from my backside. What the hell had he fucked me with? Christ on a cracker…my ass felt like it had been reamed, but good. I shook my head and continued to crawl over to the side of the massive bed. Probably another bartender, I thought as I finally made it to the edge. This happened every god damn time I drank. Why couldn’t I just leave a nice tip like a normal person? Honestly, Boone, do you really have to offer up your ass? Are you seriously that cheap? I reached back and rubbed my ass somewhat thankful I had no memory of last night considering it felt like this dude had seriously fucked the hell out of me.

“Please let him have worn a condom,” I mumbled as I threw my feet over the side of the bed. I cringed as I looked down to see my foot had landed on used rubber. I made some sort of ick noise as I lifted my foot, which now had the condom stuck to it.

“That is so not sexy.” I tentatively reached out, touching as little of the condom as humanly possible. I began pulling it

off and closed my eyes feeling the skin from the bottom of my

foot peel away from the latex which I then tossed back onto the floor as a ‘that’s-gross’ chill swept over my naked body. I looked around, disgusted and feeling ‘all class’ as I took the edge of the

sheet to wipe the sticky off the bottom of my foot.

I stood up too quickly feeling the bed move from behind me. My head was spinning a bit as I turned and looked down at the ass abuser that lay before me. He was massive, whoever he was. I imagined him being like Gaston from Beauty and the Beast. He was now on his back and his hairless expanse of a chest was spread out before me. He practically requires his own zip code, I thought as my gaze followed the sinewy trail of muscle down his abs. He was hot at least. I rubbed my head desperately needing coffee and aspirin while scolding myself for being the type of asshole that cared whether or not he was hot. I scanned the room trying to get my bearings. I spied my jeans on the floor which somehow made me feel less panicky.

I poked around the room and discovered that the bedroom was up in a loft which overlooked the living area below. I got slightly dizzy and nauseous as I peered over the railing. Knotty pine beams stretched out overhead and I caught a whiff of the fire below, that was now probably just embers. I felt a sudden chill and began to look around for the rest of my clothes. I spied a shoe and my briefs on the floor by the bureau.

I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror as I crossed the room and my mouth fell open. The back of my head looked as if someone had taken a comb and teased the shit out it. Spotting the huge-ass hickey on the curve between my neck and shoulder, I scowled and turned back to the bed. I was half tempted to chuck my shoe at him. Dirty bastard…all but branded my ass. My eyes widened as I quickly spun around, using the mirror, relieved to see there wasn’t a hickey on my ass.

I made a quick scan inspecting the rest of my body to make sure nothing else was…different. I gathered up all my things and crept naked down the stairs, clutching everything in my arms. A flash of the previous night popped into my head and I stopped, leaning against the railing for a moment for balance as I vaguely remembered clinging to Mr. Muscles while we made out, him carrying me up the stairs. I shook my head, feeling my cock stir a bit, almost able to remember what it felt like to have the guy’s tongue in my mouth. I let out a disapproving sigh, and continued down the stairs.

I stumbled into the living room, spotting my keys and cell phone on the coffee table next to two glasses each of which had a tiny amount of red wine left in them. The room was decorated in what I assumed to be mountain-gay, bachelor-chic with its brown leather furniture, a solid looking wooden rocking chair and dark mission style accent tables. It did actually feel lived in and homey, which was nice after Phillip’s sterile, everything-inits-place condo.

The fireplace was massive, large stacked stone’s stretching up from the floor all the way up the two-story wall and disappearing into the ceiling. The five foot long mantle consisted of a long, thick rough cut chunk of wood which was shiny from the multiple layers of varnish. I spied a small plasma through a cracked door in one the built-ins, on either side of the fireplace.

I smacked my lips, feeling the fuzz of drink and sex from the night before. God only knows what depraved acts I allowed myself to partake in with the beast. I felt another achy-twinge in my ass as I meandered into the kitchen. I felt the texture and temperature change under my bare feet, going from the wood floors to the stone tile in the open kitchen and dining area. A picture window twice the size of the one upstairs in the bedroom provided another breath-taking view of the mountains which surrounded the valley below. I had to blink a few times in order to tear my eyes away, imagining I could become easily mesmerized by the sight, losing entire days – getting lost in the scale of it all. That was saying a lot, considering Albuquerque came with its own amazing views, thinking back to the warm, rusty-red glow

of the Sandia Mountains baking in the late afternoon sun.

As my gaze ran over the gourmet looking kitchen with the smoky caramel stained cabinets and stone countertops which

appeared to have tiny fossils imbedded in them, I paused at the professional grade looking stainless steel appliances. Maybe I’d

fucked a chef and not a bartender after all? That would be some

type of progress. If given a dollar for every bartender I’d woken up with over the past thirteen years of my life, I’d be a rich man. The confusing thing was, I remembered the bartender from last night, unlike the man I’d found myself in bed with. Life really was a twisted bitch sometimes. I was jerked out of my inner

thoughts hearing a noise come from upstairs.

I noticed a hallway off the back of the kitchen and headed that direction. I found a bathroom and took the longest piss of my life. It was one for the ages that piss, the kind that gave you chills and goose bumps all over your body from the relief of the release. I flushed the toilet before pulling on my briefs and jeans, then finally looking back over my hair as I yanked on my socks and boots. I turned on the faucet and did my best to dampen my scruffy, shoulder length, light brown hair back into some sort of submission. It was tangled all to hell, another reminder of what a good-time guy I was when I drank. They didn’t call me Low-Tolerance Tommy for nothing.

I usually don’t have alcohol unless my friends are around to try and keep me from doing things like this. Unfortunately I was up here in Colorado all by myself, thanks to Phillip. Happy one year anniversary, you cock sucking piece of man-shit. This was what I deserved for dating a surgeon. You think they’re all heroic, saving lives – making the big sacrifice. What I realized now was what a controlling, god-complex, piece of scum he was. Why do I never see it until it’s over?

I ran my finger tips over the hickey on my neck and let out a

long sigh. Thinking back over the past year there had been plenty

of signs. Phillip never asked about me or my day. It was as if he never gave a shit who I was, only caring that I looked good

on his arm and in his bed. That should’ve been the biggest clue.

The fact that I’m a writer, made him seem perfect. He worked

long hours which left me with tons of time to work. The sex

was incredible. The vain, god-complex worked for the son of a bitch, and his confidence in his abilities in the sack were well warranted. If nothing else good could be said about Phillip, he did

have a can-do cock.

I laughed at my reflection in the mirror thinking I’d actually convinced myself that Phillip had invited me up here, to the place we’d met a year ago yesterday, because he was going to ask me to move in with him.

“What a dumbass you are, Boone.” I said to myself, still worried in the back of mind why it was I hadn’t cried. Had I been broken-hearted so many times in the past that I’d now become desensitized to the pain of it? “Am I broken?”

I shrugged and picked up my t-shirt, flipping it inside out. Nope – Phillip sent me up here because he wanted to dump me, and the really sad part was that he didn’t have enough respect for me to do it face to face. He’d called instead, letting me know the cabin was paid up for another week and to stay as long as I liked. That he’d already dropped the few things I’d been allowed to leave at his house back off at mine and that my spare key was in the mail.

My response to what he’d said? “Thanks.”

I slipped on my shirt and went back out into the living room, trying to avoid the views from the large picture window. I snatched up my phone and dialed information; getting the number to call a cab. I scurried about when they asked where to pick me up, eventually snagging the address from the magazines piled up on the coffee table. I flipped through the stack as I hung up my cell. A Sports Illustrated, how butch, I thought. Funny that was on top…trying too hard, perhaps? That slightly critical thought brought a smile to my face. There was also an Advocate, an Entertainment Weekly, some skiing catalogues and a TV Guide. I read the name, which for some reason sounded familiar. Wade

Walker.

I stood up and went back into Wade’s kitchen, rifling through the cabinets until I found a bottle of Advil. I poured out five and popped them in my mouth. I went to the sink and bent over, sucking in the water directly from the stream coming out of the faucet. My eyes drifted toward that wonderful view. Whoever the big-dicked-mother-fucker Wade was, he was certainly lucky to have that view.

I wondered for a split second about the man sleeping upstairs. He was, if nothing else, strikingly handsome, sort of a more beefed version of Christopher Reeves with his wavy black hair and cheekbones to die for. I briefly considered the possibility of dating Superman and then rolled my eyes. I’d had enough drama in the past twenty four hours as it was.

“You just can’t seem to help yourself can you?” I mumbled. I loved men who were nothing like…me. My worst nightmare would be to wind up marrying myself. I honestly couldn’t think of anything less exciting. I needed to be challenged, forced to look at things from other perspectives. I’m a writer damn it. I crave what I do not understand. And while I guess that always made for a very exciting love life, it had also been my very own, little slice of hell at times.

Hearing a honk, I turned and dashed into the living room, snatching up my things off the table. I yanked my coat off the rack by the door. I slipped it on, sucking in my breath as I opened the door, greeted not so gently by the cold. I tried to quietly close the door until I thought I caught some movement out of the corner of my eye coming from the stairs. I slammed the door and ran like mad for the cab. I was certainly in no mood, or condition, to face my trick. I climbed into the cab and shut the door, asking the driver to take me back to the lodge. Back to the cabin Phillip had rented for us to spend our anniversary in. No more tricks for this kid, I thought, refusing to look back at the

house as the cab pulled away. ****

As I slowly made my way down the walkway, struggling with the damn skis and poles, I cursed under my breath. This was stupid and I knew it. I’d never had the slightest interest in learning how to snow ski, but Phillip had insisted I learn. He’d set up these lessons and bought me all the gear and clothes, teaching me how to put it all on before I left. The sick part was he knew he was going to break up with me while he was doing it. I’d now come to the conclusion this was all part of my severance package, the trip, the gifts, the ski lessons. Phillip’s way of buying off his guilt I assumed, if he did indeed actually posses the humility for such

an emotion.

I stopped, adjusting the skis in my arms. The army green pants I wore looked like normal old cargo pants, and I did like the matching parka with the faux fur trimmed hood. The warm snuggly layers of oatmeal colored shirts and sweaters, the ski boots, it had all cost him like nine or ten thousand dollars. It was nuts, a ludicrous amount of money, but if nothing else, at least I looked the part. I planned on selling it all on eBay when I got back home. Maybe I could use the money to buy myself a second vacation on a beach somewhere?

I looked up as a couple passed by me coming from the

opposite direction. They barely noticed my presence as they

giggled and stared at one another all googley-eyed, his dimpled smile and rosy cheeks, her long perky blonde curls bouncing. It was disgusting! I resisted the urge to call back at them, informing the ill-fated lovers it would never last, that their happiness was fleeting. The harbinger of love-death would soon be upon them! It made me smile to think it, even though I didn’t say it.

I lifted my skis, tucked them under my arm and began walking toward the main lodge. The massive five story building, with its new European-style architecture, seemed well matched to the natural environment. Despite being newer construction, the lodge seemed to fit in perfectly with the sleepy little Victorian mountain town that was Summit City. It had sixty or seventy rooms in the main lodge along with the smaller single occupancy chalets that dotted the grounds for those people, like Philip, who enjoyed their privacy. Whoever designed the place had done a great job of taking advantage of all the views. There were two towers on the main lodge on opposite corners, one provided views of the valley and town below, the other of the mountain. I rounded the side of the lodge to find other guests and attendants, all busying about going to and from, while twisting the knife in

my gut by laughing and having a grand old time.

“The tram should be back around any minute,” a young man

called out to me from the entrance area.

I nodded and smiled, contemplating whether or not I should just walk up the road to the ski lift area. It wasn’t that far, and despite still feeling a smidge funky from my hangover when I’d left the cabin, the cool air and exercise appeared to be doing the trick. As I started to step off the curb the small tram rounded the corner. Already late for my lesson as it was, I decided to hop on and ride up after all.

As the glorified tractor/trolley bounced up the slight incline of the road, I let out a sigh. I knew exactly why I wasn’t all that upset about Phillip breaking things off, but I refused to admit it to myself. It seemed wrong to let the prick off the hook for the shitty way he dumped me. But I had indeed, come to realize that I hadn’t actually been in love with the man so much as the idea of him. What a waste of a year, I thought as the tram came to a stop at the ski lift area.

I hopped out, back into the snow and slid my skis and poles out, fighting with them as I tried to gain control with my uncoordinated limbs. This was a bad idea, and I knew it, but I’d spent all morning and my entire lunch trying to piece together what the hell had happened the night before. I’d driven myself crazy attempting to suss it out. So, despite having no interest in skiing, here I was. I needed a distraction from the gnawing nit-pickiness that was my over active brain. Skiing was one of those sports that looked easy, therefore I knew it was going to be ridiculously difficult to learn.