| Author: | Charles Harvey | ISBN: | 9781466042605 |
| Publisher: | Wes Writers & Publishers | Publication: | September 4, 2011 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords Edition | Language: | English |
| Author: | Charles Harvey |
| ISBN: | 9781466042605 |
| Publisher: | Wes Writers & Publishers |
| Publication: | September 4, 2011 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords Edition |
| Language: | English |
Red Underwear is the story of a single man's quest for love before the age of cell phones and the internet. Henry a lonely writer has just won a writing prize. He decides to place a personal ad in the local paper to find a woman to help him celebrate his good fortune. Ruth calls Henry after finding his ad while she was cleaning out her cat's litter box. Henry gets a lot more than he bargained for when Ruth shows up at the door.
After a date that included a weird soul food restaurant and Ruth's desire to crash a wake going on next door, they wind up back at Henry's place. Ruth promptly informs Henry:
“Now I'm going to tell you something right now,” Ruth said as she flung her bra on the floor. “I've seen every shape and size of penis. I've had two men at once, been tied up, fed canned peaches, had the syrup licked off of me, been spanked, have spanked. A guy even made me vomit on him. So there's nothing you can do that will surprise me! You're all alike.”
After this speech, Henry decides it's best to just go to sleep. He's awakened later by Ruth's strange desire to make a late-night run to a convenience store for some snacks. It turns even crazier when desires to be topless and to top off this crazy date, she decides to rob the store. All poor Henry gets is a trip to jail.
Excerpt 2:
My phone rang late one Friday night about a week after I had stopped running the ad. I was alone working on a poem about a man on his belly trying to climb a mountain. It was a very sensual poem because I was using the mountain as a metaphor for woman:
On my stomach/I man, seek/Nectar from the throat of cliffs . . .
I'm really heavy into metaphor. Anyway, the voice at the other end of the line asked, “Is this 88I-LOVE?”
“Yes, it is.”
“I should hang up.”
“Oh, no, don't hang up!”
“Why not? You already think I'm a tramp. In your head you've started undressing me, measuring my ass.”
“No. I’m really not that kind of guy.”
“That's good. That's wonderful,” she said.
Red Underwear is the story of a single man's quest for love before the age of cell phones and the internet. Henry a lonely writer has just won a writing prize. He decides to place a personal ad in the local paper to find a woman to help him celebrate his good fortune. Ruth calls Henry after finding his ad while she was cleaning out her cat's litter box. Henry gets a lot more than he bargained for when Ruth shows up at the door.
After a date that included a weird soul food restaurant and Ruth's desire to crash a wake going on next door, they wind up back at Henry's place. Ruth promptly informs Henry:
“Now I'm going to tell you something right now,” Ruth said as she flung her bra on the floor. “I've seen every shape and size of penis. I've had two men at once, been tied up, fed canned peaches, had the syrup licked off of me, been spanked, have spanked. A guy even made me vomit on him. So there's nothing you can do that will surprise me! You're all alike.”
After this speech, Henry decides it's best to just go to sleep. He's awakened later by Ruth's strange desire to make a late-night run to a convenience store for some snacks. It turns even crazier when desires to be topless and to top off this crazy date, she decides to rob the store. All poor Henry gets is a trip to jail.
Excerpt 2:
My phone rang late one Friday night about a week after I had stopped running the ad. I was alone working on a poem about a man on his belly trying to climb a mountain. It was a very sensual poem because I was using the mountain as a metaphor for woman:
On my stomach/I man, seek/Nectar from the throat of cliffs . . .
I'm really heavy into metaphor. Anyway, the voice at the other end of the line asked, “Is this 88I-LOVE?”
“Yes, it is.”
“I should hang up.”
“Oh, no, don't hang up!”
“Why not? You already think I'm a tramp. In your head you've started undressing me, measuring my ass.”
“No. I’m really not that kind of guy.”
“That's good. That's wonderful,” she said.
