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HOME >> Product 0427 >> THE SPRINGTIME OF OUR DISCONTENT>>

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THE SPRINGTIME OF OUR DISCONTENT

W. Richard St. James

It's the spring of 1968. The nation is stuck in a useless, divisive war. The campus is stuck in a useless, divisive strike. A nerdy jock with a hippie girl friend is trying to keep his life going on as usual through all the turmoil. But his sedate existence is shattered when they are blackmailed to infiltrate the radicals by attending one of their parties -- a party that is a methodical bisexual orgy. The girlfriend has a few surprises of her own in store for him.

$1.99

Paperback Buy Link
$9.00

 

eBOOK STATS:

   

Length:

78207 Words

Price:

$2.99

Sale Price:

$1.99

Published:

06-2017

Cover Art:

T.L. Davison

Editor:

Terrie Lynn Balmer

Copyright:

W. Richard St. James

ISBN Number:

978-1-77217-067-2

Available Formats:

PDF; HTML; Microsoft Reader(LIT); Palm (PDB); Nook, Iphone, Ipad, Android (EPUB); Kindle (MOBI);

Paperback Price:

$9.00 Paperback Buy Link

 

EXCERPT

   

“NICE MORNING FOR a run.”

There were two people standing by the door to the field house, a man and a woman, both in long trench coats, even though the day had turned warm and sunny. What were they doing there? The place was deserted, track empty except for sea gulls greedily swarming over the grass seed in the muddy infield. Wyatt had a fat little dog that would run out of the field house and race around the infield, yapping at the birds as they rose up just long enough to let the annoyance pass by. But the dog was nowhere to be seen, or Wyatt for that matter.

“Yep, it was nice.” He nodded at them, trying to brush them off. There was something scary about them, not that they looked like thugs. They were both white, not old, well groomed. Both wearing trench coats. Cops? He’d come up here to get away from the cops swarming all over campus. After the bust. The woman’s shoes were wrong, flimsy, high heeled. Not cop shoes, not shoes you could walk around in for long. The two looked like something out of a spy movie. Like Boris and Natasha, except woman was blonde, and the guy was big, really big. What the hell were they doing here? They looked familiar somehow, as if he had seen them somewhere before without really noticing them.

“Timothy Walker.” It was the woman who spoke. It was more a statement than a question. “We need to talk to you.” She opened her coat just enough to display some sort of badge pinned on the inside of the lapel, next to it, a shoulder harness with something black and sinister looking. More skin showing than he would have expected, but he didn’t have time to check it out. The man had come up behind him, grabbing an arm, twisting it behind his back.

“Charlie, there’s no need for that. Is there, Tim? You aren’t resisting, are you?” Tim shook his head. Tim? How did they know his name? “Good. Let’s go inside then.”

The door was locked. “Shit.” His clothes, his wallet, student ID, key to his dorm room, everything was behind that door. It had never occurred to him that Wyatt might go off to lunch or whatever.

“Well, what do you know, Allie?” It was Charlie, chuckling. “Good thing we’re here.” He reached in his pocket, took out something that looked like a little metal toothpick, and a tiny little lever. In five seconds, they were inside the building.

“Where’s your locker?” Charlie had his arm again, shoving him the wrong way.

“Upstairs. We can take the elevator.”

“The elevator?” Allie snorted. “You just went running and now you’re taking the elevator up one floor?”

“I always take the elevator. We can walk up if you want to.”

“The elevator is fine,” Charlie said. “Go in first. Face the back wall. Put your hands over your head.”

“Charlie!”

“Never can be too careful. He spotted your gun. Who knows what he might try to do?”

“You’ve got it all wrong. I’m harmless.”

“Harmless?” Allie snorted again. “God, I hope not.”

“Shut the fuck up, Allie. Which way, harmless one?”

“To the left.” They padded silently on the soft cork floors. The doors into the locker room were closed. For a moment Tim thought they might be locked also, but they swung open.

“Open your locker. Take your clothes off. Leave them on the bench.”

“Yes, sir.” Tim was acutely aware of the woman’s eyes on him as he took off his tee-shirt. He sat down to untie his shoes.

 

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 1968, nation, war, campus, strike, nerdy jock, hippy girlfriend, blackmail, party, radicals, bi-sexual, orgy,

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