Charity Sunday: Acts of Compassion – #CharitySunday #SuperHeroes

Last month for Charity Sunday I featured MSF, a well-known and respected organization that addresses itself to global problems. For this month, I’m supporting an organization I’m sure you’ve never heard of: A Future Superhero and Friends.

 

AFSF (as I’ll call it) isn’t an international organization. It’s the brain child of a single man, Yuri Williams, who started offering loving service to people in need – former prisoners on probation, the homeless, addicts, orphans – as a path to heal from his own grief. I first read his story here https://www.unity.org/en/article/how-one-mans-superhero-costume-became-his-calling and was deeply touched. Giving money to people is of course a worthwhile thing to do, but giving of oneself is perhaps the true essence of charity.

People like Yuri don’t just improve the lives of the individuals whom they directly help. Simply reading his story helped bring more light into my world.

Anyway, I will give two dollars to AFSF for each comment I receive on this post. Don’t be shy!

I wanted to do an excerpt featuring a super-hero, but I couldn’t think of any story I’ve written that fits the bill. Rather surprising, actually. As the next best thing, I’ve got a bit from my MM short story “To Boldly Go”, in which I have characters masquerading as Captain Kirk and Lieutenant Uhura – definitely cultural heroes. To make this more appropriate, the story was written for a charitable anthology edited by Nobilis Reed for the Coming Together series of altruistic erotica.

https://www.amazon.com/Coming-Together-Outside-Nobilis-Reed-ebook/dp/B00UUBX34E

Excerpt

Males outnumber females by about four to one, I estimate – based, of course, on the attendees’ apparent gender. But who knows, right? Maybe some of the guys are actually gals. I think about Lorelei’s girlfriend Chaz, who’s so butch even I find her attractive. The realization that the crowd might contains other gender-bending outlaws gives me a secret buzz.

I spot one other Uhura, a slender white woman with fewer curves than I have. I can’t quite dismiss my feeling smug satisfaction. I’m more beautiful that she is, and I know it.

So where should I go first? Star Trek: Insurrection is scheduled to screen at eleven. I’ve only seen it once, on video. The seminar on Klingon grammar might be fun. There’s also a session about the new film supposedly coming in 2016.

I’m standing in the middle of the hall, scanning the convention program, when he slams into me from behind. The jolt almost dislodges the stuffing from my bra. I forget to adjust my pitch.

“Oof! Jeez, man! Be careful!” I turn to confront the clumsy lout who nearly knocked me over.

“Excuse me! I’m so sorry, miss! I was cleaning my glasses and didn’t notice...” He’s crouched at my feet, in fact, picking up a pair of dark-framed spectacles he obviously dropped on impact. He looks up at me with the most gorgeous pair of sky-blue eyes I’ve ever seen – somewhat unfocused, but full of a special light.

A surge of lust washes away my anger. “Oh, dear – I hope they’re not broken.” This time I sound more like a girl.

He favors me with a brilliant smile before settling the glasses on his razor-straight nose. “They seem okay.” With a smooth grace that makes me sweat, he rises to a standing position. He’s lean, athletic looking, at least half a head taller than me. And he’s obviously costumed as Captain Kirk, in a velvety, gold-toned shirt that shows off his broad shoulders plus tight black trousers that make my mouth water.

He misinterprets the intensity of my gaze. “I know. Who ever heard of Kirk wearing glasses?” He grins and my pulse quickens. “My astigmatism’s so bad, though, that contacts don’t really work for me.

“Actually, I was thinking you look quite a bit like the captain,” I gush. He does, too, with his tousled, sandy hair, high forehead and determined chin. The glasses make him look less macho than Kirk’s normal demeanor, more scholarly, but they don’t mar the resemblance too much. Certainly he has the same hero’s physique.

“Well, you’re the image of Uhura. You’ve really got her look.”

“Thanks.” I hold out my hand, uncharacteristically forward. “I’m Jen, by the way.”

“Peter.” His grip is firm, his skin cool. My cock leaks pre-cum into my constraining undergarments. “Nice to meet you, Jen.”

“Likewise.” I glance around at the crowd, thinning as participants disappear into various sessions. I want to drag him into an empty meeting room and peel that form-fitting uniform off his obviously sculpted chest. I push the idea to the background – maybe later? - and struggle to keep the conversation going. “Good attendance this year.”

“Oh? This is my first West Coast con. Just moved here from Boston three weeks ago. I’m doing my residency at Good Samaritan Hospital.”

“Oh – you’re a doctor! I’m surprised you didn’t dress up as McCoy.”

“Irony is not really my style.” He looks embarrassed, younger than he must be if he’s a resident physician. He’s staring at me at least as intently as I’m looking at him.

The silence lengthens. I realize he hasn’t released my hand. An ache grows in my chest, as if someone was pumping it full of gas. My dick is like living stone.

Those glorious baby blues trap me in place. I can’t move, can’t speak. The slightest vibration, and I’ll explode.

He feels it, too, the heat, the connection. But he thinks I’m a woman.

That recognition is simultaneously thrilling and frustrating. He’s attracted to me, that’s clear – attracted to Jen – a girl, a fellow Trekkie, costumed as the dusky-skinned, exotic Uhura. He’s straight. There’s no way I’m going to get what I want.

And yet this is what I want, in some strange, twisted way.

Peter finally releases my hand and manages to jump start our stalled conversation. “I was at Star Trek Las Vegas last year. What a madhouse! I like these local cons a lot more.”

“I feel the same. A lot more intimate.” Oh my god, did I really say that? “I did the San Francisco con in 2012 – thought I’d suffocate in the crowds.”

“Pricey, too! Hundreds of bucks just to see third or fourth tier characters.” He shook his head. “My fiancée thought I was nuts.”

Ouch! Yeah, I know he’s straight, but I hate to be reminded. And apparently taken as well. “I gather she’s not a Trekkie.”

The handsome doctor gives me a peculiar look. Am I coming on too strong? Too personal?

“Um – no. Maybe that’s one reason we fell apart.”

“Oh – I’m sorry...”

He gives me a genuine Captain Kirk, we-can-deal-with-any-problem smile. “Never mind. That’s ancient history – but one reason I chose the West Coast for my residency.”

“Plus we have more Star Trek events than any other part of the country.” I straighten my Starfleet emblem and gaze up at him, basking in his beauty. Even behind his glasses, his eyes sparkle like giant sapphires.

“Well, there is that... Speaking of which, it’s nearly ten. Where are you headed for the next session? I was thinking about the Klingon tutorial.”

“Me too!” I consult my program. “Meeting room 2, up on the mezzanine.”

“Let’s go.” He rests his hand on my shoulder for a moment.

Heat blazes through me, targeting my groin. An instant later he snatches his arm away, as if burned. Guess he feels it too. 

 

If this sounds like fun, go grab a copy of the anthology. It’s for a good cause!

And speaking of good causes, please, please, leave a comment! Be a superhero yourself.

Thank you.

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