The Greek God of wine, women, and party, falls off a balcony during Mardi Gras in New Orleans. Now he has amnesia. All he knows is that they call him 'Big D', and he's a party animal who drinks too much and ought to give up alcohol for Lent.
Mandy and Brandy flashed Dionysus right before he fell. They're nice enough to take him to an AA meeting, and then back to their homes until he recovers his memory. Fortunately, they're not too nice to be naughty. They all agree that replacing a bad habit with a healthy one is the key to sobriety, and what could be healthier than sex? Will he come between friends before they know who he is? Will Zeus separate all of them, forever?
Reader Advisory: This story was released as part of the Nectar of the Gods Anthology by Total-E-Bound.
General Release Date: 28th September 2009
“Hello, everyone. I can’t remember my name, but I think I’m an alcoholic.”
The room fell silent. A few titters began in the back, then the chuckles spread and before I knew it, the whole room was guffawing.
“You came to the right place, Mister!” yelled a listener from the back of the room.
I felt my cheeks heating. They must be turning red. Well, fine, at least they’d match my eyes.
The gorgeous young women who’d taken me to this AA meeting slapped their luscious thighs and laughed out loud with the rest of them. If it wasn’t for their sex appeal, I’d have stood up and walked out. How humiliating!
I pictured their creamy skin under their jeans. The brunette with big brown eyes would have a bikini tan. The other, an auburn redhead with long, spiral curls, would probably be a sunscreen wearer, but I loved fair complexions, too. In fact, I enjoyed pretty much everything about women. It’s odd how I knew that about myself but little else since the amnesia.
I elbowed the pretty brunette on my right. “Hey, I came here to get help and everybody’s laughing at me.”
The young woman, Brandy she said her name was, patted me on the knee and said with a southern drawl, “It’s all right, honey. We understand. We’re laughin’ with you.”
“But I’m not laughing.”
“Well you should, darlin’. When you’re feelin’ better, you’ll be tellin’ your story to the world, and you’ll be laughin’ too.”
The meeting resumed but with my hangover, I couldn’t concentrate on what the speakers said. Yet, despite my pounding headache and roiling stomach, I could concentrate on Brandy and Mandy’s thighs.
I sensed a passionate nature in both of the women.
Mandy, the redhead, seemed like the quiet type. Like a swan though, she had all kinds of energy underneath the surface.
Brandy liked to touch. I loved touchers. Every chance she got she put a hand on my arm or my leg. Now if I can just get her to zero in on the space between them. My jeans grew tighter as I imagined it.
Mandy wagged her top leg continuously, and I could barely keep my eyes off her shapely ankle, graced by a rhinestone anklet. The afternoon light refracted sparkles from it as if fairy dust were being sprinkled all around our legs and feet. Her t-shirt spoke volumes in glitzy rhinestones too. They spelled out ‘Half Naughty Half Nice. Which half do you want?’ over her ample breasts. I wanted both halves in my mouth, thank you.
You’ve gotta love New Orleans. Short skirts, brilliant colours, and lots of glitz were the preferred attire in the French Quarter, especially at Carnival time. That must have been why I was here. Somehow, I just knew I never missed a good party.
Had I lived here for years? Maybe I was just a tourist. Why oh why hadn’t I had some kind of ID on me when I fell off that balcony and onto my head last night at Mardi Gras?
The girls, Brandy and Mandy, said I had been leaning over the balcony trying to throw them some beads when they’d flashed their tits at me. They said I must have been pretty drunk because I’d almost fallen off the balcony when a flat-chested girl flashed, but the two of them showing their voluptuous gifts in unison must have been too much. I’d tumbled over the wrought iron railing and landed, bam, right on my head.
Fortunately, for me, they’d felt guilty and driven me to the hospital when I’d come to. They’d stayed until the emergency room had kicked me out, then they’d brought me here.
I couldn’t wait until the meeting ended. I wanted to take the two of them to a private place to make out. Who was I kidding? I wanted to screw them silly. Maybe Armstrong Park... Now how did I remember the name of a park in New Orleans, but I couldn’t come up with my own name? Oh, man, I needed a drink.
Shit. Today was Ash Wednesday. Nine out of every ten people in the meeting hall had soot on their foreheads. The girls wanted to give up liquor for Lent. They said they did it every year and thought it would be a good idea if I did, too. Maybe they were right.
Maybe I was a Catholic. Everyone else seemed to be. And since I didn’t know about the other bad habits I had, I’d have to give up alcohol, although I sensed I may have lots of bad habits.
Ashlyn Chase describes herself as an Almond Joy bar. A little nutty, a little flaky, but basically sweet, wanting only to give her readers a scrumptious, satisfying, reading experience.
She worked as a psychiatric nurse for several years and spent a few more years working for the Red Cross. She credits her sense of humour to her former careers since comedy helped preserve whatever was left of her sanity. Ashlyn holds a degree in behavioral sciences and has been trained as a fine artist, registered nurse, hypnotherapist, and interior designer.
Most writers, whether they're aware of it or not, have a 'theme', some sort of thread that runs through all of their books, uniting the whole mishmash into an identifiable signature. Ashlyn's identified theme involves characters who reinvent themselves. It's no wonder since she has reinvented herself numerous times. Finally content with her life, she lives in beautiful New Hampshire with her true-life hero husband and a spoiled brat cat.
£2.50 Buy Now
Add to Wishlist
Read a Sample
Send as a Gift
Available in:
epub, pdf 
