Naked Prince and Other Tales from Fairyland by Joe Cosentino

Author:Joe Cosentino [Cosentino, Joe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay romance
ISBN: 978-1-63476-758-3
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2016-01-27T00:00:00+00:00

Whatever Happened To…?

OF COURSE I had heard all the stories about him. As is the case with any celebrity, you never know what is fact and what is fiction. Since he and I were about the same age—thirty in dim lighting—I had heard the stories as a kid. I wondered whether he had heard the stories about me too. I assumed that was why I had been given the assignment. Like him, I was, or rather had been, a celebrity. So I knew a bit about the rise and fall of fame.

The assignment was for Queen Magazine. A series called Whatever Happened To…? It was right up my alley: investigative interviewing and reporting on what happened to the famous and infamous of once upon a time.

Since it was late afternoon on Christmas Eve, I arranged for us to meet at my house on Andersen Lane. It was a cozy little country cottage with a thatched roof, shuttered windows, a brick fireplace, and a cobblestone walkway leading to a door sporting an evergreen wreath laced with red berries.

He was right on time. Like most celebrities, he was shorter than you’d think, with an indisputable charisma. Just like in his pictures, he had straight carroty hair, a turned-up nose, and a compact, very firm body. He still carried a youthful air, and his smile was infectious. Though it was winter, he wore a cherry-red polo shirt and emerald-green shorts.

I, by contrast, had on black slacks, a burgundy button-down shirt, and a maroon fleece sweater. I also had a good foot on him in height. I was in good shape, if I did say so myself, and my jet-black hair and eyes still had a glow from racing my horse outside. Since I have always been attracted to men even larger than me, my assumption was I would have no problem sticking to business and getting a good interview.

We sat on the love seat next to the fireplace. I offered him various things to drink, and he accepted eggnog made from organic sheep’s milk, which I had gotten from my friend Mary at a farm down the road.

Pointing to the miniature wooden decorations of sleighs, reindeer, and boxed gifts on my Christmas tree, he asked, “Did you carve those yourself?”

I nodded.

His thick lips formed a sensuous smile. “So you are good with your hands.”

My degree in journalism had taught me to prepare my questions in advance and stick to them. So after thanking him for the compliment and for the interview, I plunged right in. “Do you mind if we go over what happened to you when you were… in the limelight?”

He flashed his large aqua eyes at me. “Hasn’t everyone already heard all the stories about my childhood?”

“I’d like to hear them from you.” I readied my pad and pencil.

As if it were a ritual to summon up the courage to repeat it all one more time, he took in a deep breath, sat back on the love seat, and closed his eyes.

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