Groom Entry Quotes

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What?” Ann asked. “I didn’t say anything.” “I know. You’re just standing there staring. What are you thinking?” “I was wondering if you loved me.” She smiled at the mirror, the magical world between the two swans. Amrath imagined it was a beautiful place, a pretty country where troubles never found entry. “I bore you two wonderful children.” She kissed the crown of Arista’s head. “That was your duty as queen, but do—” “Really?” She paused with the brush still holding on to a few strands of Arista’s hair to look at him. “A duty? Is that how you found it?” “Not for my part—of course not.” She returned to the mirror and the brushing. “Then why would you think I saw it that way? Did I appear to be suffering? Do I now? It’s such a hardship being your wife. Perhaps you should summon the guard to whip me, lest I stop brushing my daughter’s hair.” Arista laughed and covered her face with her hands. Amrath scowled at her. “I could have sworn we had a dozen servants whose job it is to see to Arista’s grooming.” “There, you see? What more proof do you need? I do this because I want to.” “That just proves you love your children.” “Actually it just proves you love me,” Arista whispered. Ann gave her a gentle slap on the head that caused her to giggle again. “Quiet, you.
Michael J. Sullivan (The Rose and the Thorn (The Riyria Chronicles, #2))
Mid-June 2012 …Do you remember the arrogant male model who came to the Bahriji School to give a grooming course to us students when we were there? An evening after my return to London, while staying at Uncle James’ home, I visited one of the London sex clubs. Uncle James was in Hong Kong and I had his town house to myself before I moved to my own lodgings in Ladbroke Grove, recommended by the Nottinghill Methodist Church housing project. I was terribly lonely and needed company desperately. I ventured to “Heavens” located Under the Arches on Villiers Street, Charing Cross, a little before midnight. In 1972, this establishment was located in a large warehouse. For the uninitiated, the entrance was nondescript. It was dimly lit from the outside, and when a patron wished to gain entry, he pressed an obscure doorbell by the side of a huge aluminum sliding door. A pair of eyes would look through a peephole, checking to make sure that it was neither a police raid nor an underage client. If the patron was handsome and dressed like a macho gay man, he’d be asked for identification. Once approved, the green door would slide open to allow entry. Inside “Heavens” was a different world. Throngs of leather and denim-clad patrons checked their belongings in the tiny cloakroom next to the cashier’s booth. A small safety deposit box was then allocated upon request for each visitor to deposit his wallet or important documents for safekeeping. The safety deposit box key, attached to an elastic band together with the clothing claim tag, would then be handed to the patron to wear around his wrist or ankle. Most patrons were shirtless except for their jeans and leather pants. The uninhibited would strip down to their jock straps or sports undergarments. Their naked buttocks were ready to be in service for a night of unbridled debauchery.
Young (Unbridled (A Harem Boy's Saga, #2))
It's no wonder that this land, even when we are deemed worthy and granted entry, can make us feel unwelcome. It all begins before we even cross its borders.
Matt Ortile (The Groom Will Keep His Name: And Other Vows I've Made About Race, Resistance, and Romance)