Guest Blogger: Pink Lemonade by multi-talented author, Jon Wilson

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A five-part series wherein I examine the pitfalls—both real and imagined—and difficulties—both encountered or merely anticipated—to being a gay author in the 21st Century, and attempt to discuss how said pitfalls and difficulties can be used to our advantage, thereby employing the old adage “Making lemons into lemonade.” (And, in advance of the inevitable inquiry, allow me to retreat into the naivete allowed one of my advanced years and answer simply: “What’s a Beyonce?”)

Part 5:
Gay Villainy


“But I Don’t Wanna Play a Cop, Momma”

The January 1955 issue of ONE magazine featured an essay by Norman Mailer entitled “The Homosexual Villain”. Yeah, written by the very same guy who infamously proclaimed “homosexual potentiality” was something true men overcame. According to John Loughery, in The Other Side of Silence: Men’s Lives & Gay Identities – A Twentieth-Century History:

“Though [Mailer] later repudiated “The Homosexual Villain” as a lapse on his part into liberal sentimentality, gay readers were impressed at the time by the novelist’s admission of his own homophobia and use of gay men as cardboard bad guys in his fiction…”

Sadly I can’t find Mailer’s essay archived online. Proof of its existence, like the existence of the Colossus of Rhodes or the Babylonian Hanging Gardens, lies only in other’s retellings of it. (Really we need an online LGBT archive people!) Or you can buy Mailer’s book. He’s been dead almost ten years but I’m sure where ever that’s left him, he’s still gleefully counting sales.

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It’s actually probably worth at least checking out from your local library for “The Homosexual Villain” and “The White Negro” alone.

I discussed masculinity and the gay perspective in Thursday’s Pink Lemonade Part 3 (or, alternately, HERE). Today I want to talk about Gay Villainy and whether or not we’re now living in a post-GayLib world.

Last year, the Advocate offered a list of the 21 Best and Worst Queer Movie Villains (watch out, there are ads galore on that website). Five years ago, Salon took a more focused look at the topic (an even worse site as far as intrusive ads are concerned), wondering whether Javier Bardem’s Bond villain should be seen as progress or relapse. ..Though they, too, couldn’t resist the clickbait that are listicles.

I do appreciate that there isn’t complete overlap in the lists. For instance, Salon includes Baron Harkonnen (from Dune) and Frank Fitts (American Beauty), both of whom I’ll talk about a little more later, and the Advocate lists Joel Cairo (The Maltese Falcon), the Leopold and Loeb clones in Hitchcock’s Rope, and Dr. Elliot (Dressed to Kill). There is of course cross-over and its about what you’d expect: Ripley, Tramell and Buffalo Bill, among others. Both also include Miriam Blaylock (The Hunger) which left me scratching my head. Maybe it was where I was at at the time, but I never saw her as a villain.

Interestingly, the lesser-known (to me) website NewNowNext compiled the best list maybe because they came at it with a more decidedly gay sensibility and realized “Embarrassing” was the appropriate way to describe some of these characters. I loved the inclusion of Praetorius (The Bride of Frankenstein) because he looms so large in my childhood memories.

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Ernest Thesiger, as Praetorius, also looms large over John Carradine in director James Whale’s Bride of Frankenstein.

None of the lists mention Sebastian Venable, maybe because he’s already dead at the start of Suddenly Last Summer. I discussed that play/film in yesterday’s Pink Lemonade, along with my thoughts on Tennessee Williams. I claimed Venable was the prototype of the evil homosexual perceived by America in the post WW2 years: manipulative (he employs his mother and cousin as bait) and predatory (he does something never-quite-made-explicit to young men).

For me, the various gay villains listed fall into a few discreet categories. There are those who’s evil seems to stem solely from their queerness. I’m looking at you boys from Rope, and you Frank Fitts and, yes, even you my beloved Praetorius. Praetorius also falls into another category, which is ‘he’s gay (or a pansy, which is what it usually means) because then the audience/reader will immediately know he’s up to no good’. Other examples from that category include Waldo Lydecker (Laura), Joel Cairo and even Scar from the Lion King. Scar crosses over into a separate subset, ‘pansy royalty’, rubbing his leonine shoulders and pedicured claws with the Princes John and Edward, (The Adventures of Robin Hood and, everyone’s favorite film, Braveheart, respectively). And then there are those who’s gayness is a sort of character enhancement. This category would include Ripley (can I just say how much I hated that Matt Damon movie?), Baron Harkonnen, and Bond’s Raoul Silva. (It’s maybe Bardem himself, but that character really creeped me out.)

About five years ago, The Wrap, also ran a story about gay villainy, this time “applauding” the arrival of what they called the new gay villain. These were examples from my last category above. Those who’s gayness seems to have been added as a character enhancement.

“Once, branding a villain as homosexual was dehumanizing. Today, a villain’s homosexuality is often the most humanizing thing about him.

“The arrival of more nuanced, less stereotypical gay villains comes as gay characters receive more realistic portrayals on shows like ABC’s hit “Modern Family.” Rather than remaining relegated to the rom-com role of gay best friend, gay characters are finally moving the action. ”

Okay, first, I object to Cam and Ginger’s characters being called more realistic. They ARE NOT routinely humiliated for the sole fact of their sexuality. but they spend a lot of time being “gay” (as a tv character trope) as opposed to “gay” (as a real life phenomenon).

The Wrap article goes on to say this, without any apparent irony:

“[A]t least Bond has a worthy gay adversary.

“In the bad old days, films and movies gave their villains mincing walks, frilly outfits, flowery language, fussy cats and all sorts of other supposedly effeminate accessories to tip off viewers that they were homosexual – as if homosexuality were synonymous with weakness.”

Now watch that scene again. Yeah.

John Waters, appearing on the now-defunct Craig Ferguson show said this: ”I sometimes argue with some of the gay militant groups because, why do we have to be ‘good’ all of sudden? I’m for the rights of bad lesbian mothers. I think that I’m for gay villains. I don’t think suddenly we have to be good all the time.”

I agree with Waters generally. I haven’t yet featured a gay villain in any of my books. (It’s been suggested that Liam O’Mara and Sam Mackey may have had a homosexual past, but, for me, the closest thing to a villain I have in A Hundred Little Lies is the protagonist, Jack Tully.) But I’m not adverse to it. There is the shady character of Hobie Wainwright in the Declan Colette books, but nothing much is known about him at this point and whether or not he emerges as a good guy or a bad’un remains to be seen.

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The Author’s Westerns (yeah, I keep pimping them)

Available from Lethe Press!

I do worry about putting in a gay villain who’s villainy stems from his or her homosexuality. And I fret when I read current gay mysteries that seem to fall back, at least in part, on that trope. I can happily say that the most distressing formula that still regularly recurs is the murder (or suicide) as a result of gay blackmail, which I hope to address (and hopefully subvert) in a Colette story soon. I’m also not pleased that so many gay mysteries still involve, to varying degrees, male prostitution. I’ve never known a male prostitute, in RL, except the one I hired one time so that I could say I did, but as they are more often victims than villains, that’s a topic for another time.

I don’t worry about writing a gay villain who’s gayness is merely character enhancement. I’m not sure I’d be able to do that. Nor do I worry about creating a character who’s gayness is merely a symptom of his deviance. At the very least, I’d hope such a signal would be misread by my readers! No, both of those seem like pitfalls straight writers need to keep an eye out for.

So, writing this, I’ve been racking my brain to come up with a gay villain I “liked”. The Wrap article identifies Omar (HBO’s The Wire) as a “model for the modern-day gay villains…” But, like Catherine Deneuve’s vampiress in The Hunger, I never thought of Omar as a villain. He’s an anti-hero, which is a VERY different character type.

The best I could come up with were Joel Cairo (in the book, The Maltese Falcon, more than the movie) and Praetorius, even though both of them were tagged as “weak” (or sissified) by their deviant natures. And then I remembered Doctor Smith from Lost in Space, who typifies every bad stereotype a gay character can embody (though more so as the series progressed, early on he was quite evil). But, y’know, even as a kid I felt I knew where he was coming from and always found myself secretly rooting for him…


Jon Wilson is the author of Cheap as Beasts, a current finalist for the Lambda Literary Award Best Gay Mystery of 2015. He’s also written a follow-up volume, Every Unworthy Thing, as well as two westerns. He lives and works in Northern California, where he worries that all that bleach may have done irreparable harm to Javier Bardem’s hair.

The Pink Lemonade Blog Tour concludes tomorrow at Charlie Cochrane’s Blog, and, if you missed any previous entries, you can find them HERE (Part 1), HERE (Part 2), HERE (Part 3), and HERE (Part 4).

I’m giving away a signed copy of both the Declan Colette books at the end of this blog tour. Just leave a semi-cogent comment (which, I suppose, means I’ll have to allow “YOU SUCK!”) to any of the five parts in the Pink Lemonade Blog Tour to enter (if you leave multiple comments or comment each day, you get entered for each comment)!



Lesbians on the Loose: Tales of Murder, Mayhem and Suspense

Lesbians on the Loose

edited by

Lori L Lake and Jessie Chandler



These tales of murder, mayhem, and suspense by some of today’s finest crime writers will keep you up way past your bedtime!

The lesbians on the loose in this collection are an entertaining mix of protagonists: cops, amateur sleuths, a PI, a judge, a bounty hunter, and one very insightful dog. There’s even an intrepid high schooler and a mystery writer.
Despite greed and grief, rage and revenge, secrets and lies, many of the stories feature humor from a variety of characters trying to find their way in a difficult world–cops who’ve seen too much, revenge seekers, and women who want justice for themselves and others.

You won’t regret going on the lam with these terrific writers: Elizabeth Sims, Carsen Taite, SY Thompson, Andi Marquette, Linda M. Vogt, VK Powell, Kate McLachlan, Lori L. Lake, Lynn Ames, Sandra de Helen, Jen Wright, Sue Hardesty, Jessie Chandler, J.M. Redmann, and Katherine V. Forrest


An interview between the co-editors:


The book trailer:


The buy links:




The History of a Mystery (Series) – Discussing Dick Hardesty by Dorien Grey

The History of a Mystery (Series)

by Dorien Grey

Few readers know…or, probably, care…about the evolution of the books they read. And while there is no real reason why such things should concern them, those interested in writing and writers can find a little backstory on a book or a series of interest.

There’s been a lot going on with my 15-book Dick Hardesty mystery series of late, and some of it is a little confusing, both to readers and to myself. So, for those interested, I’d like to present little crash course in its history.

The first Dick Hardesty mystery was published in 2001. I had a devil of a time finding a publisher, but finally found one—GLB Publications out of San Francisco—willing to take it on. The title was The Ninth Man, and it was released only in e-book format. It did so well, I wrote a second book, The Butcher’s Son, as a prequel, to explain how Dick Hardesty became a p.i., and it came out as a paperback. The Ninth Man was then released as a paperback making, technically and confusingly, The Butcher’s Son the “first” book of the series and The Ninth Man the second.


Bill Lee, the owner and publisher of GLB, was a fascinating guy. A retired military doctor and a strident gay activist, he had certain rock-bound views and opinions which proved to be sometimes counterproductive to his writers. He would not allow any GLB book to be distributed by any distributor which did not have a specific “Gay-Lesbian” category. This thereby eliminated the possibility of my books being made available through Fictionwise, then the largest distributor of e-books. GLB issued its own e-books. He also had some rather unusual but deeply held beliefs on gay life. He did not, for example, believe in monogamy. For the first four books of the Dick Hardesty series, Dick is rather promiscuous. But in the fifth book, The Good Cop, I decided to give Dick a monogamous relationship, which did not go over well with Bill.

Our relationship became more strained over the course of the next five books until, with the release of book #10 of the series, The Paper Mirror, I was given the choice of either returning Dick to his promiscuous ways or having GLB drop the series. Reluctantly, I chose the latter. Luckily, Zumaya Publishing, which had published my gay western/romance/adventure novel, Calico, which GLB had rejected because the protagonist shot people….it’s a western, for Pete’s sake!…offered to pick up the series, and subsequently produced five more books in the series.

When Bill Lee, who had been battling cancer for a few years, died, GLB folded and it’s stockpile of published books was destroyed, leaving its ten Dick Hardesty books effectively out of print. Zumaya stepped in and agreed to reissue all ten books. However, adding ten books to its already full production schedule involved long delays. Patience was never one of my virtues, and I grew increasingly restive with the pace of the reissues. I’m afraid my incessant “when will the next one come out?” questions understandably wore heavily on Zumaya and it was suggested that I might look for yet another publisher.

Serendipitously, Jay Hartman, an internet friend from the very start of the series had started his own publishing company, Untreed Reads. He had for several years said that he would be happy to take on the series should the chance ever arise. So I turned to him and, with sincere thanks to Liz Burton of Zumaya for her cooperation, the entire Dick Hardesty Mystery series is switching from Zumaya to Untreed Reads.

Nothing, however, is simple. When the transfer became effective on January 1, 2015, Zumaya cut all ties to the series (though it continues to carry Calico and the Elliott Smith Mystery series) and all 15 print and e-book versions became all but unavailable until Untreed Reads can reissue them, at the projected rate of one book every other month. The first of these reissues, The Butcher’s Son, has been released, with The Ninth Man to follow in early February.

The five audiobooks of the series will remain readily available.

And there you have the rather checkered history of the Dick Hardesty Mystery series. I hope that if you have not already read all—or any—of them, you might start out on this new journey with me. I’d very much appreciate it.

Exclusive Excerpt:Boystown(#1)Three Nick Nowak Mysteries by Marshall Thornton

Exclusive Excerpt:

Boystown: Three Nick Nowak Mysteries by Marshall Thornton

From “Little Boy Burned”


That Valentine’s Day I was sleeping alone—by choice.

I was in the middle of a sex dream about the kid in that island movie that came out last year, the one about the boy and girl who get shipwrecked, run around mostly naked, and eventually learn about sex. In my dream, though, there wasn’t any girl on the island, and things between the kid and I had begun to get hot and heavy when the phone rang.

“Yeah,” I said, untangling my hard-on from my twisted boxers. I glanced at the clock. It was 6:12 a.m. I’d slept a little more than two hours.

“Nick, it’s Ross.” His voice was electric. “Something’s happened. Paradise is on fire.”

“I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”

Boystown 1 Cover 2nd Edition2

I worked the door at Paradise Isle two nights a week and had for a couple of years. Ross was one of the bartenders and my occasional fuck buddy. The nightclub, which we usually called just Paradise, was part of a string of brick storefronts down on Broadway right above Diversey. Ross and I had both finished shifts just hours before.

Groggy and a little horny, I threw on some clothes and ran out to find a cab. It had been easier to find one at three a.m. In the wee hours of a Sunday, cabs cruised around ready to take late-night revelers home. But by six-thirty they’d become scarce. It took almost ten minutes, but I finally got one, and it zipped me down Clark to Diversey. We couldn’t make the V turn to get onto Broadway because fire trucks blocked the way. I paid the driver and hopped out.

I got there about six-forty. Smoke was still pouring out of the top of the building, but it looked like the fire was winding down. The sky in the east had turned pink, and I figured the sun would be up in a few minutes. The air was frigid cold, but at least it wasn’t snowing. Two big, red fire trucks sat in front of the bar. Hoses crisscrossed the street. Firemen scuttled back and forth; the sidewalk slick with icy water, washing away the dirty snow that currently graced most curbs in Chicago.

I saw our DJ, Miss Minerva Jones, standing on the east side of Broadway in a small crowd. I made my way over. I’d never seen Miss Minerva out of a dress. Usually she favored wrap-around silk disco dresses, six-inch heels, over-teased blond wigs, and a dusting of glitter. That morning, though, she wore a pair of Sergio Valente jeans with their bull’s-head logo stitched into the back pockets and a gray parka. She’d left her wig at home and made a half-hearted attempt to take off her makeup. Whiskers were starting to poke their way through the remaining streaks of foundation.

When she saw me, she growled, “Every album I own is in there.” In the DJ booth, there were about five milk crates stuffed with the best disco ever recorded. “My life is ruined,” she moaned.

“What happened?” I asked.

“No one knows. I was getting ready for bed when I heard the sirens.” Miss Minerva had a studio apartment a block away on Clark Street. “They kept getting louder and louder. When they stopped, I knew. I called Davey and then Ross.”

I looked around and saw the owner, Davey, and Ross talking with a fireman. Ross was wearing a long, gray wool coat that was actually mine. He’d borrowed it a couple weeks back and now seemed unwilling to return it. Too thin for this weather, the only way I got away with wearing it in winter was to layer up with a corduroy blazer, a flannel shirt, and a T-shirt. Ross wasn’t wearing anything underneath but a BVD T-shirt. Even from where I stood, I could see him shivering.

“Bernie was inside,” Miss Minerva said flatly. Bernie was another of the bartenders. I didn’t know him well. He’d started on the afternoon shift and had only recently begun working the peak nights, Friday and Saturday. I had noticed that, like all of Davey’s bartenders, he was a very good-looking boy.

“Is he dead?” I asked.

“No. He’s burned pretty bad. They took him to the hospital a few minutes ago.” She was sullen, seeming to grind her expensive caps.

“What time did this start?” I asked.

She shrugged. “Not long ago. Close to six?”

“What was Bernie doing here at six in the morning?

“Sleeping in the storeroom,” Miss Minerva said. Then with a roll of her eyes she added, “Boyfriend trouble.”

I nodded, then headed over to join Davey, Ross, and the fireman. As I walked over, I noticed that an axe had been used to get through the front door where I usually stood checking IDs and keeping an eye out for trouble.

Davey and Ross greeted me, and I patted Davey on the shoulder.

The fireman wore stiff, yellow turnout gear that made him seem enormous. His face was smudged with soot, and he smelled like sweet, acrid smoke. He explained, “It appears the fire began near the bar or possibly even behind it. Accelerants were used, but it could have been bottles of liquor.”

“151 Rum would have done it,” said Ross.

“It’s arson,” the fireman said bluntly.

Davey went pale. “Someone did this on purpose?”

“We’re not finding any signs of forced entry.”

“What does that mean?” Davey asked.

“It could mean a lot of things,” I interrupted. Davey didn’t seem to understand the situation, but I did, and I didn’t think he should say anything else. The fireman gave me a look. His eyes were a sharp blue. We stared each other down for a moment. And then he said, “I’ll be back to talk to you later.” He walked away.

Davey shook his head, confused. Paradise was his world. It was the second bar he’d put together. The first had been called The Cellar and had a five-year run in Old Town. He’d hit at just the right time. Disco was big then, and there had been long lines around the block on Fridays and Saturdays. Paradise Isle was successful, but not on the same scale.

Ross pulled out a pack of Camel Lights. He offered me one, and I took it. We lit up and smoked for a minute. “If there are no signs of forced entry, it means that whoever started the fire was let in or had a key,” I explained.

“They had a key?” Davey wondered. “How would they get a key?”

“They might have hidden somewhere,” suggested Ross. “In the bathroom maybe?”

I took a drag on my cigarette and said, “The thing is, Davey, you’re gonna be the most likely suspect.”

He blushed a little. “I have an alibi.” Davey had a much younger, Asian boyfriend who barely spoke English and called the bar if Davey was five minutes late leaving.

“Doesn’t matter,” I said. “You could have hired someone to start the fire.”

“I love this place. I would never burn it down.”

“You have insurance, right?”

He nodded.

“That’s your motive.”

“What, they think I burned the place down so I could redecorate?”

I smiled. “That’s a better reason than some I’ve heard.”

“I have to go to the hospital and see how Bernie’s doing,” Davey said, as though to himself. He walked away without saying goodbye. Then he turned and came back.

“Find out,” he said. “Find out who did this.”


Buy link:

Learn More about Marshall Thornton:

Murder on the Mountain by Jamie Fessenden: Discussion between Characters

JamieFassendenThursday, October 31st – NH State Police Barracks, Concord, NH

The office door opens and Detective Kyle Dubois stands in the doorway, looking hesitant.

Chief Osborn:  Come in, Detective.  Close the door behind you.

Dubois does as he’s told, then takes the seat in front of the Chief’s desk when the Chief waves him into it.

Chief:  Do you know why I called you in?

Dubois:  Yes, sir.

Chief:  Most of the case was handled professionally, but there’s the matter of, uh… what’s the name…?

Dubois:  Jesse Morales.

Chief:  Yes.  Would you care to explain how a civilian came to be so intricately wrapped up in a murder investigation?

Dubois:  He found the body, sir.  On the summit.

Chief:  So you got a statement from him.

Dubois:  Of course.

Chief:  At which point his involvement in the case should have been over.  Yet you filled out not one, but two ride along forms for him—one of which was filed after he accompanied you on the summit.  Would you care to explain that?

Dubois shifts uncomfortably in his chair.

Dubois:  I didn’t think it would do any harm.  He wasn’t a person of interest, since his whereabouts were accounted for during the entire day, and he wanted to learn about police procedure.  He’s a budding mystery novelist.

Chief:  You know that’s not the way things are generally done.  He should have been submitted to a background check before the form was approved.

Dubois:  He passed the background check.

MurderonMountainChief:  Yes.  After the fact.  And what was all this about him checking into the hotel where your primary suspects were staying?  More or less conducting his own investigation?

Dubois:  (spreads his hands helplessly)  It’s not against the law for him to check into a hotel, no matter who might be staying there.  And we can’t stop him from talking to suspects.

Chief:  Did you explain to him he was interfering with a police investigation?

Dubois:  (sighs)  I tried!  But he’s not dumb.  He never technically interfered.  He never prevented us from talking to the suspects.  He also never revealed anything to them about our investigation, and everything he learned he reported back to us.

The chief frowns and leans back in his seat.

Chief:  Your partner, Detective Roberts, seems to feel Morales endangered himself during all of this.

Dubois:  Yes, sir.  I felt the same.

Chief:  But you couldn’t think of a way to get his ass out of there?  As I understand it, he went back in to attend a party given by the suspects—after he’d checked out of the hotel!

Dubois shrugs helplessly, but appears to have nothing to add.

Chief:  You’re damned lucky things didn’t turn out worse than they did!  (pause)  I gather this Morales is now a friend of yours?

Dubois:  (uncomfortably)  Yes.  I guess so.

The chief leans forward again and regards him for a long moment.

Chief:  I’m not going to tell you who to be friends with on your own time, but I don’t want to hear Morales’s name again—not in connection with police business.  No mention in the reports.  No ride alongs—not even if they’re done correctly. Nothing.  Is that understood?

Dubois:  Yes, sir.

The chief looks as if he wants to add something, but he merely hesitates and then nods his head.

Chief:  All right.  Now get out of here, before I decide I’ve been too lenient.

Dubois:  Yes, sir.

Dubois stands and leaves. On his way out, he passes by Detective Roberts, who’s on his way in.  Dubois gives him a look—something that could perhaps be a warning—and then he turns away.

Purchase Murder on the Mountain:


Find Jamie Fassenden on the web:

Author William Maltese interviews Stud Draqual: Interview With A Stud


Author’s notes:
The most recent “Kanelli People-Recognition Poll” puts “Stud Draqual” in the 98-percental range. Possibly because he’s the heir to a well-known silk-producing empire; heads an ever-expanding fashion house, including men’s and women’s couture; has been listed on the world’s best-dressed men’s list for the past twenty years; has expanded into boutique liquors and wine; is often pictured on society pages, lately in the company of industrial mogul and heiress Roxanne Whyte; has been the object of worldwide media attention for his involvement in two sensational murder cases that resulted in his first-person autobiographical internationally best-selling books — A SLIP TO DIE FOR and THAI DIED.

I met up with Stud during New York Fashion Week where his couture runway collection had, once again, gleaned rave reviews for House of Draqual. While his penthouse was being remodeled, he was staying in the palatial roof-top condo of Baronness DuVille Falwell-Marget, whose living-room boasts its spectacular 200-degree view of Central Park and the parenthesizing city skyline. The Baroness was on holiday in Corfu.

Stud was decked out in a couture Draqual silk three-piece men’s gray suit and shirt; blue tie; blue-leather Gucci shoes. Evident was his signature emerald-and-diamond pinkie ring.
Throughout the interview, our champagne glasses where kept topped with chilled Falwell-Magret vintage champagne from the Baroness’s French vineyards outside Leon.
Stud appeared poised and cordial.

WILLIAM MALTESE: I imagine you’re quite used to being interviewed by now.

STUD DRAQUAL: You’d be wrong. Most of my press has been the result of reporters out to fulfill their own agendas, no consultation with me whatsoever. If I didn’t personally know your publisher, Jon Michaelson, I probably wouldn’t have agreed to this interview.

WM: You’ve said publically that the reason you wrote your two books was in order to set the records straight.

SD: I still can’t believe all of the false information and ludicrous spins the press put out to make those murders seem far more sensational than they really were.


WM: Although, you do have to admit, each case had more than its fair share of sensationalism. I mean, male corpses, in the one, turning up in Draqualian-silk women’s lingerie; a Thailand boy/girl, in the other, heading an international crime syndicate.

SD: I did not, however, participate in any three-day orgy with the latter, as reported by one British scandal rag whose name I won’t even bother to mention.

WM: Do you see all that coverage by the media, true and false, to have been a boon to your expanding business empire: All publicity chocked up as good publicity?

SD: At the end of the day, probably yes.

WM: Tell us something about the Draqual silk worms which, unlike others of their kind, secrete silk that’s already colored without any labor-intensive dying.

SD: Purely the sheer luck of my father who stumbled, quite by accident, upon a small colony of hybrids whose anomalies of DNA sequencing has even had Draqual scientists, until recently, unable to produce silk from outside the primary-and-secondary colors spectrum.


WM: The gray of your silk suit indicating recent progress?

SD: Yes.

WM: Your competitors having tried for years to garner similar results, even without variations.

SD: Our managing to keep a lid on the worms has, indeed, provided us with a definite edge in the business.

WM: How much, roughly, did your expanding empire net this last fiscal year?

SD: Since Draqual Industries is privately owned, I’m not legally required to release financial information, and, therefore, never do.

stud4WM: A net figure, though, somewhere in the millions?

SD: That’s safe to say, yes.

WM: And, while you started out in silk and ladies’ couture lingerie, you have now expanded; not only in those two areas — more than one man and woman wearing Draqual silk couture on red carpets, these days — but you’re, also, now into boutique liquors and wine.

SD: So far: vodka, tequila, and a vintage cabernet sauvignon.

WM: Not to mention the eventual gargantuan result of the predicted hook-up between Draqual Industries and the Whyte Consortium. By the way, congratulations on Roxanne Whyte and your recent announcement as regards her pregnancy with your son.

SD: Empires always have need for heirs. No combining of ours, however, until Roxanne and I are both ready for retirement, our son old enough to take over the reins.

WM: A wedding anywhere on your immediate horizons?


SD: Not at the moment. Roxanne and I cherish our independence, although I’ll likely have an active part in raising the boy.

WM: There are people, you know, including, by your own admission, your long-time psychiatrist, Dr. Melissa Doolittle, who think you disingenuous in the writing of both your best-selling books when you emphasize your sexual liaison with Ms.Whyte while downplaying whatever sexual relationships you may or may not have had with Inspector Don O’Reilly, and with the mercenary Jeff Billing, and with the Thai underworld boy/girl kingpin “Ram”.

SD: Less disingenuousness, on my part, than my simple refusal to pander to prurient interests by providing details that never happened.

WM: You’re still officially insistent, then, that there was no sexual relationship between you and any of those three men? Certainly, not the result of Billing or Ram’s lack of trying. And there was your own admission that you were thinking of sex with Billing while actually having sex with Ms.Whyte. Plus, you did spend one whole voyeuristic night with only Ram and you in witness. Nor have you ever denied having been aware of the physical arousals of these men, in your presence, and, sometimes, even your own sexual arousal, by way of direct reciprocation.

SD: I merely state it as it is. Arousals never really my problem. Acting on them, each and every time, is something else again.


WM: Your reluctance to confirm homosexual activities, do you think, is still the ongoing result of your previous on-record admission that so many people have always thought you gay, their judgment only reinforced by your exceptional good-looks, and by the fact that homosexuality is so often associated with the fashion industry?

SD: During my associations with O’Reilly, Billing, and Ram, probably, yes. At the present, I’m more inclined to admit that I may, very well, be bisexual. Then, again, there’s that underlying suspicion I may not really be “sexual” at all. I have no problem performing the sex act, even enjoying it, to a certain degree; I mean, an orgasm is an orgasm is a pleasant orgasm. Have I ever been in true rut-mode for any man or woman, though? No. Have I ever concluded that sex, in general is, more often than not, more bother than it’s worth? Yes.

WM: Have you seen O’Reilly or Billing recently?

SD: I’ve seen O’Reilly, on occasion, in passing; after all, he’s still an active member of the New York Police force. And, although I’ve not had any recent reason, like murder, to call upon his professional services, we have ended up in some of the same crowds. As for Billing, there were occasions I tried to locate him, but with no success. Black-ops don’t provide easy avenues for tracking down its membership.

WM: Any possibility of giving either man a second chance?

SD: I’ve never been convinced that O’Reilly was genuinely interested in me — in that way. As for Billing, I suspect that’s all water under the bridge, too. Then again, who knows? I’ve seldom found anyone as good-looking and charming as he is, and I work in an industry filled with good-looking and charming people.


WM: Any immediate plans for your future? Another book?

SD: Since another book would likely require another murder, I’d just as soon pass on that, if you don’t mind. Frankly, I consider myself having experienced more than enough life-threatening events to last me a life-time.

WM: There are rumors that you plan to launch men’s and women’s fragrances in the very near future?

SD: Stay tuned for a definitive announcement on that within the next six months.

WM: With thanks for this interview.

SD: You’re very welcome.

About William Maltese: He first published in the late sixties an article for the men’s magazine “Argosy” that documented his search for Inca treasure in the jungles of South America between his junior and senior years at university. Shortly, thereafter his three-book pulp-fiction “Adonis” detective series was launched. Over two-hundred published books, and at-one-time-29-pseudonyms later, he can boast a whole list of writing in the Gay Mystery-Thriller-Suspense genre, including SLAVESSS MANN HUNTA CONSPIRACY OF RAVENSBEYOND MACHUTHE GOMORRAH CONJURATIONSGOLDSANDSTHE MOONSTONE MURDERSTUSKSSNAKES … and his four-books-to-date SPIES AND LIES series



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