eBook Details

The Stardust Diaries 2007

Series: The Stardust Diaries - extracts from my life with Stardust Twinkles , Book 4.0
By: Tarn Swan | Other books by Tarn Swan
Published By: Chastise Books
Published: Nov 07, 2012
ISBN # 9781480256897
Word Count: 70,394
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Categories: Romance>GLBT>Gay Romance>BDSM Romance>Romantic Comedy

Description
Beige Rage ~ Twisted Ratatouille ~ Bon Voyage ~ Blue Cross Day ~
Twinks Goes Commando ~ Friends and Lovers, and more~

Tarn Swan returns with more anecdotes and tales about life and love with the man who puts the star in Stardust, the drama in queen, the rat in ratatouille and the light in his eyes, his beloved Twinkles.

2007 brings an anxious and unsettled phase in their lives with events that look set to drive them apart.


Will they get through it or will they become just another statistic in the history of broken relationships? Only time and Tarn will tell.


M/M fiction with D/s elements.
This book contains references to consensual domestic discipline between male partners.
 
Reader Rating:  starstarstarstarstar (6 Ratings)
Sensuality Rating:   lipliplip
Excerpt:
4th January ~ Gossip Queen


Him in frocks is watching Hollyoaks. God how I hate that programme. It’s all strife plus there doesn't seem to be a single actor or actress under the age of twenty-four. It’s a kind of Twink soap opera. He's addicted to it because it features an array of openly gay, bisexual and transgender characters as well as straight ones. In his estimation it gives a true representation of society, or how society should be. I suppose it keeps him quiet, well, quietish, as he does tend to give a running commentary. I might not actually watch the programme, but I know all about what’s happening in it.

We seem destined to have run-ins with the emergency services lately. First it was the police on Christmas Day and then yesterday evening we had two fire tenders parked outside the front door and a bevy of firemen and one firewoman tramping all over the house in heavy duty boots. They left mucky footprints all over the carpets and floors.

What happened? I’ll tell you. Twinks and I had been home from work for about an hour and were in the living room continuing an argument that had begun in the car. It revolved around his desire for me to have an extramarital affair, so he could then forgive me for it. He went so far as to offer to phone Stuart Cramer and arrange a date between us. Cramer would jump at the chance seeing as he fancied the socks off me. I refused. I didn't want an affair. I had enough on my plate with him.

He claimed I was being selfish. We'd been together for years and it was about time I had an affair. I was gay for God's sake! Gay men were notoriously fickle with their affections and gratuitous with their groin equipment. I issued a simple statement: not this gay man.

What lay behind his odd desire for me to have an affair? I'll tell you - pure envy and materialistic greed. I knew exactly what it was about because Teddy had also called me to announce he had graciously forgiven Maurice for his Brazilian affair. His forgiveness had come at a price. While he was on the phone he grabbed the opportunity to brag about the beautiful car, a red Alfa Romeo Spider, that Maurice had presented him with shortly before being forgiven for the affair that happened on their pre-Christmas Las Vegas trip. Maurice denied having an affair with the young and handsome Brazilian in question, but put up his hand to ogling him. It had cost him dear.

Recognising he wasn’t going to get a car via the affair route Twinks demanded I buy him a nice sports car, something in pink that would put Teddy's nose right out of joint?

My answer was no. For a start what was the point of him having a fancy car he couldn't drive? He said he’d been thinking about taking a few refresher-driving lessons.

Over my cold, dead body! While blood pulsed in my veins I was going to hold true to the vow I'd made to him, to myself, the judge, local driving instructors and the manager of Sainsbury's that never again would he get his hot little hands on the steering wheel of a motorised vehicle. I will tell that story one fine day.

I was in the middle of making a few things clear: I was not in the market for an affair, he was not in the market for a sports car, when I was interrupted by the sound of the kitchen smoke alarm going off, closely followed by the one at the top of the stairs.

Abandoning all arguments we dashed into the hall to investigate. There was a faint scorching smell, but no smoke or flames. The kitchen was fine. The cooker was turned off. The dining room was fine. There were no tree lights smouldering.

I ordered Twinks to put on his coat and go sit in the car. I then ran upstairs to investigate further, promising to treat myself to regicide if it turned out he'd left a hair appliance on. I could find nothing that might be responsible for the smoke alarms going off. The smell upstairs was worse and had a distinctive oily, gas like taint to it. There was also a fine blue smoke hanging in the air, but I couldn't detect where the hell it was coming from.

After opening the bathroom and bedroom windows to disperse the fumes I called the local fire station for advice. They told me to get out of the house immediately. They'd send someone round to have a look. Fair enough.

Minutes later two huge fire engines, all sirens blaring, roared into the close. Every curtain in the close started twitching. Honestly, can't the fire brigade go anywhere without drawing attention? In next to no time the front garden was full of fit men uncoiling hoses and the house was echoing to the sound of many manly boots.

Twinks said it was like a scene from a gay fantasy and seeing as he knew he wasn’t responsible for them being there he could enjoy it without guilt.

I was rather embarrassed at first, especially as there was no obvious sign of flame and fire. As it turned out I'm glad we called them. A thermo-imaging camera detected the source of the fumes and smoke. We have a gas fuelled warm air heating system, which is rather archaic. Thick dust inside the flue had built up and was smouldering sending fumes and smoke out through the heating ducts. If the smoke alarms hadn't done their job we would have had a full-blown fire, and probably an explosion.

We now have a dismantled and condemned gas boiler and loose duct grills all over the house. We’re cold, but alive and resigned to the fact we probably need a completely new heating system. I've tried all day to get an engineer out to look at it, but to no avail. Monday afternoon is the earliest I could get one to agree to call. We face a chilly weekend, though at least we have an electric fire in the living room.

Once the firemen had gone and we were in the process of cleaning up, Twinks let slip he’d had a chat with the lady fire person. Her name was Helen. He had made discreet enquiries as to whether any of her colleagues were gay and single and looking for an affair. He had two candidates in the offing, Lulu and me. We were described as: a slightly paunchy, he overindulged at Christmas, but could easily be whipped back into shape, thirty something and a rather dim, dizzy, but sweet and desperate, twenty something.

I was outraged and told him he'd better be winding my key. He does that you know. He loves to get me going, wicked little toad he is at times. He was serious. He had given Helen his mobile and home number and told her to pass it on to anyone interested. He would then give out details and make arrangements. I told him he'd better be teasing about pimping Lulu and I or there would be hell to pay.

We were watching telly later on when his mobile rang. I confess I blanched as he let out a theatrical squeal of delight upon answering it.

“Hello, yes, I know Helen, and yes I can arrange a date. Which one do you fancy the sound of? The paunchy one or the desperate one?”

I lunged for him, wrestling the phone from him, barking into it, “who is this?” It was a bemused Lulu. I could have happily slaughtered Twinks on the spot. However, it's hard to stay annoyed with someone who is almost crying with laughter. I settled for walloping his backside with a cushion, which made him laugh even more.

For a few days after the Christmas break in I didn't think I'd ever see Twinkles smile let alone hear him laugh again. He was so depressed.
Reader Reviews (1)
Submitted By: granrob on Jan 30, 2014
Absolutely love Tarn & Twinks, (and their friends too!), have read these stories many times, I equally laugh & cry each time! They really do feel like old friends!
 

The Stardust Diaries 2007

By: Tarn Swan
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