Finding Heaven

"Oh, by the way, my names Charlie," I said.

"Well, Charlie, we'd better get somewhere we can stock up," he said, smiling. "Then we can come back here for the rest of the day."

"Let's," I agreed, but knowing I had to head back to Sydney that night .

"But I have to be at work in the morning in Sydney," I said to him honestly. I was already riding out a major unpleasant storm there, and not showing up on Monday morning was just not on the cards. "Come back to my place," I said. "Can you do that?"

"I suppose so," He replied, shrugging. "I don't have to be anywhere particular tomorrow morning."

That decided, we got up and started to dress, Ty pulling stuff out of his backpack, T-shirts, a saucepan, notebook, and a couple of novels.

"Don't tell me you read that crap that Tara Langtree writes," I couldn't stop myself from saying, seeing The Ruined Palace by Tara Langtree fall from his bag.

The words were hardly out of my mouth when Ty had me on the ground, trying to strangle me. "Hey, get off. Stop it. Geez, you're mad," I shouted at him, as I tried to push him off, suddenly remembering he was a fruit cake who had tried to kill himself the day before, and wondering if the man I had asked home was a lunatic.

And he was yelling back, "She writes great books. That bastard stole her. Great books," he shouted at me, shaking me and red with anger.

"Yes. She did, she did," I shouted back at him, quite honestly, "She wrote great books. Great books, until the last two," I finished shouting, as Ty's fingers eased their grip on my neck. "That woman used to write gold. That's why I went out on a limb to sign her up. Now my name is shit, and I'll be lucky to keep my job. The last one was . . . "

"Trash," Ty yelled, jumping up and throwing The Ruined Palace across the barn.

Well, I had met people who were keen on romance writers, but I thought this was going a bit far, and I looked up at Ty cautiously. "Yes, it is trash. And the one before wasn't as good as I expected, but at lest it was readable and covered itself financially."

Ty turned to me, "You said you signed her. You? You work for True Romance Books?" He looked pale.

"Yes. Yes, but um, maybe we should go," I said, trying to stuff my things back into my backpack as quickly as I could.

"I'm the real Tara. I wrote those books, all except the last two," he said.

"Oh," I mumbled, lost.

"All of them. Garth said that it would look better if a woman did the talks, though. And the book events. And I don't like crowds of people, so I said, yes, sure. So, he got his wife to do them. Him and his wife, Angela went everywhere pretending she was Tara."

I looked at him. He sounded rational for a lunatic, and, yes, Tara's real name was Angela. "She always did well at talks," I said, cautiously, "She's a good-looking woman and knows how to sell herself."

Ty had flopped down on the floor, "Yes. Then Garth brought me a manuscript to look at for him, "Just something Angela was hoping might get looked at by someone," he said. Night of Envy it was called, and he asked me to see if it needed any work done on it. I said, "Of course, Garth, anything for you, lover." It was awful. I had to put off finishing Loves Triangle to get her Night of Envy decent. Then he tells me a couple of months later that no one wants Loves Triangle. And that I have lost my touch," He paused; with a few tears running down his face. "I was devastated."

And I was starting to listen to the fantasy Ty was making up, as the name Garth rang a bell too. Garth was Tara Langtree's manager and husband, and was a hunk with an eight-inch dick. We'd fucked after the contract was signed, back when I was floating on cloud nine.

"So, you wrote Cauldron of Passion?" I asked.

"Yes. Of course. Pamela's first time. I was worried how much sex to show in that. I mean, it was very passionate," he replied, frowning.

"So, Garth was what?"

"Um, my manager and agent and editor and, well, um, lover," Ty said, shrugging and looking foolish. "Then he told me his wife, Angela, had got a contract with True Romance. Her contract, as Tara. And he told me I was getting too old and had lost my talent and from now on he would need all his time to manage his wife, who after years of standing in for me was now really going to be Tara."

Ty burst into tears and ran to his backpack and pulled out a manuscript. "I have read it through a dozen times. It's better than anything his wife could ever write. I can't believe it was rejected. But I call people up and say I am really Tara, and will hey look at it and they just laugh at me and hang up," he said, sniffling loudly.

I took the manuscript from his hands and sat on an old rusty drum and opened it.

"Do you mind if I read it?" I asked, as I looked up at him.

He looked frightened, "No. Read it. And . . . and tell me the worst."

I sat there and began to read. And read and read. Until I was interrupted by a small voice and looked up.

A shaft of light was coming in through the loft window where I had first seen him, and the dusty rays were filtering down from the loft and lighting up his head and shoulders.

"So, is it alright do you think?" Ty was asking, biting his nails and looking at me.

I looked across at him, seeing him lit up like a golden angel again in the dusty ray of sunlight. God, I wanted to fuck him. Great romance novels always do that to me. No idea why, but they make me horny as hell, and Tara's had always been some of the best.

"It's fantastic; it's the real Tara," I said, throwing myself on him and devouring his mouth.

I was in heaven with an angel, my cock rock hard and throbbing.