It’s an unusual heat wave in March in the city of Hermosa Beach, California. This is home to the surfer’s walk of fame and where the too sexy it should be illegal cascade along the beach playing volleyball or surfing the cosmic Pacific Ocean waves. A young, rebellious man breathes down its neck pulling out its sexual diversity without so much as a word. Jagger careens around the corner at lightning speed leaving a trail blazed behind him. His black pick-up truck dominates a street lined with cactus for a block and a half where the foot of the beach starts. He is consumed with all sorts of mental breakage while yammering away on the phone. Lethal and territorial with his crowd and environment, there is an easy vibe about him mixed with a dangerous edge.
He finds a spot between a parked corolla and a small trashcan on wheels that stands in his way. He battles with reversing his truck into a small open space available to parallel park. Feeling destructive and antsy like he can do anything he wants, he attempts to back the truck up into the spot around the trash can. God forbid he climbs out to move the trash receptor. That’s not his style. If something is in his way, then he hits it or runs over it. There is a rough beauty about him that is aloof and attractive. He is a loner and a tough guy with a warrior’s edge. There are cuts and scars on him from running and jumping off high objects to temper his occasional unruly aggression. He’s crashed down onto the street and pavement more than once. Thirty-two years old with looks in the mid-20’s, his endless active lifestyle has done him good. He gets into the occasional fist-fight, but is merely trying to survive standing up for a fair Prince or Princess in a jam. He doesn’t know why he gives a shit for humankind, as man hasn’t been kind to him or each other. As a writer and on an intellectual level he hates stereotypes and doesn’t agree with them. Pigeonholes and labels are both offensive and repetitive in his mind.
He reverses the truck and his back tire hikes up onto the curb. Accelerating forward abruptly and slamming on the brakes causes a loud echoing screech. He slams his truck into the trashcan causing it to spin around while an onlooker watches concerned in the distance. Paying no mind, he backs up banging the tire against the curb.
“What the fuck.” He says under his breath. He hits the steering wheel with his palms in a brash manner.
Slamming on the gas he runs into the trash can once more.
“Hold on.” He shouts into his earpiece then, “Let me call you back!”
The driver door swings open and a huge beach breeze rushes past the truck. Jagger’s hiking boot hits the street pavement hard. With combative movements he climbs out of the car into plain view. He is about medium height, not ultra short or tall, but to some it’s known as the fun height. He’s got a classically young looking face and body, a short dark military hair cut and huge killer brown eyes. Testosterone radiates off of his body which is strong and confident. Although a regular guy he permeates heavy doses of mystery and superiority. He sports khaki shorts and a camouflage tank top with the words “ARMY” on the front and “FUCK” on the back.
His shorts hang casually over his ass, which is full and round. His ass makes some heterosexual guys drool and secretly fantasize what it would be like if they experimented once. They would never go through with it with another guy, but they can’t control their imagination. Instead they direct their focus for a second at the smoky dude and wonder. They attempt to wipe away the fantasy so as not to grow a hard on and have to explain it to their girlfriends, friends or themselves. Only when he’s a largely evolved hetero guy who is sure of himself will it rarely bother him.
Jagger marches like a sergeant with frenetic energy grabbing onto the handle of the trash can. He drags it away onto the sidewalk. It makes a deathly echo into the air of the neighborhood. He is here and making himself known. A tone about him is intimidating. Some beach folk walk by uncomfortable and rush past him quickly.
He hikes back to the truck and stares face forward horrified. Butterflies swarm around in his stomach and his heart pounds faster in a rare vulnerability. He wants to be shot dead right there on the street like a mountain lion that shouldn’t be roaming around the city. Everything stops around him and nothing else matters. Mesmerized by the new guy in his town he’s had a crush on since he first saw him. Getting Jagger to feel any crushing feelings on anyone is impossible, but he feels an uncontrollable connection to this one. It isn’t difficult to know why when you cross paths with the sweetest guy on the planet.
Garth stands half a block away in his own tracks eyeing Jagger. Garth’s mouth moves half open in fear and wonderment. His messy dirty blonde hair blows a little in the wind. His deep green eyes pierce into Jagger’s heart. Every shade of Jagger’s face becomes etched into Garth’s mind. He has red lifeguard shorts on and shirt while holding a surfboard under his arm. He’s a different wild animal than Jagger, but untamed and unruly nonetheless.
Both dudes stand in stillness unable to move in the city jungle wondering if the other is a friend or threat they would need to fight to the death. There’s no greater feeling than having a hot crush on someone, but there’s no worse feeling when the one you’re crushing on has no idea. Neither are aware that they’re both thinking the same thing about the other.
Jagger’s breath leaves him and the guy’s cavernous eyes pound all over his body. It’s as if an unknown entity is reaching down his throat with strong fingers and drawing the air out of his shaking soul. Jagger has a soft spot for this guy, amidst his own menacing aura that people first see.
They both look away and at each other and then away. It’s the typical shy school boy stance when crossing paths with a crush.
Garth continues on his walk down the slight slope knowing he will pass Jagger from across the street.
Jagger wants to die. ‘Fuck me. I have to complicate things by falling for someone.’
Garth senses Jagger’s eyes burning deep into him as he gets close enough to plant the grenade. He works up the courage to be neighborly. “Hey.” His voice is gritty and rough, but he lights up like an angel. He could talk a man into turning himself into the law and starting his life over in a better way. Garth’s voice sounds like he is hanging onto what’s left of his teenage puberty, but he’s twenty-four years old and this is his voice. Pushing six feet, he towers Jagger by just enough to overpower him if he wanted to. Garth has a noticeable Aussie accent and is the most stunning creature Jagger has ever seen. Jagger no longer has to worry about trying to write about love he has when he doesn’t have any. He’s found his muse and damn inspiration.
Jagger remains cool, low and raspy when he responds, “Hello.” His voice soothes Garth’s world and cradles it. Garth trembles slightly with a nod as he passes him and continues on down to the crowded beach. The white sands and blue sea up ahead is the spot that Garth would make love to Jagger every day all day and night if he could. Having a crush on someone hurts because it often feels like it’s not shared. This is why it’s a crush, because it crushes you. You feel vulnerable and stupid as if you are alone in the equation. Turning the feelings off is near impossible as you have no idea why you feel this way so intensely. You wish you could turn it off so that you can relax and be cool. Your crush might notice you more when they see your strong poise, instead of the disappointment, all thumbs aura and pain that rises whenever that person is in your vicinity.
Jagger climbs back into his truck to absorb Garth’s energy. He sits for a moment exhaling and glancing up without lifting his head. Garth is in the distance heading down to the beach and Jagger feels guilty for looking. He places both hands on the steering wheel and leans his head over exhaling again. “Fuck.”
Garth is one of the hottest lifeguards on the beach. Jagger uses every free second available to be consumed with thoughts of him. He wonders about this guy to help him sleep throughout the night with sweet images of the two of them together. Daydreaming of what it would be like to have him as part of his life. This could be the Father of his kids! The way Garth moves and the discipline he conveys inside and out that very few guys have in Jagger’s eyes lures him in even more.
Sometimes Garth goes for a run and his well-built body, his tight and toned legs, chest and arms seep through his shorts and his shirt if he has one on. Jagger’s eyes make out every inch and shape of it all in hot eroticism. His arms. His ass. He wonders what his cock would look like and what he would look like naked. He wants to run his fingers through the little dark blonde hairs on his legs and let all of them stand up and take notice of him.
Jagger goes running too and every now and then the guys near pass each other while on their walk or jog, but those moments are far and few between. It is all set up on divine timing when they’ll bump into one another next. They already have a common ground. They both like to take care of themselves. Jagger doesn’t have to worry about some dude who enjoys getting sloshed all night at a club or bar on a regular basis destroying his health, looks, whole aura and being. He can’t handle the instability and neurosis associated with someone who cannot make it a week without having a drink.
Garth watches Jagger with his mouth open ready to take his lips in. He stands there in heat holding a fork and knife ready to go to town. Sometimes Garth catches Jagger when he is outside or on his balcony on the street that commands the neighborhood as if he secretly owns it, but tells no one. Garth gazes at him gaping in heavy teen love angst as if they are both fifteen, horny and in love. He searches for the push to make his voice heard in his direction. If he weren’t so damn good looking, he would be blended into the wall, an observer, a solid, quiet one with an active spirit.
Jagger knows Garth is the fucking ultimate babe, but tries desperately to get back to planet earth and snap out of it. He’s tired of hallucinating as if he has a shot with him. There is a nasty twinge in his side that convinces him that Garth doesn’t know he exists. He’s left with feeling like the daily idiot he’s perfected so well whenever around him. He wants to be hosed down with cold water and maybe it’ll go away. Alleviate it off his body the way a car’s radiator steams out of the sides of the hood when it’s used every ounce of liquid it has. Yet, he loves the way Garth watches him. It seems like he’s in love with him. He wants to believe that the guy is attracted to him. Garth stares at him as if he’s never seen anyone like him before. He sees him and sees who his soul truly is. Jagger sometimes catches Garth watching him. It drives him nuts and he coyly looks anywhere else, but at him. He masturbates to thoughts of him with the Summer night breeze rushing into the living room of his home enveloping his body that drips with beads of sweat. Garth’s hands grabbing hold of Jagger’s body and kissing down it methodically.
Jagger jolts back to reality and hops out of his truck bummed out that it isn’t real.
Cars and trucks pull onto the street to park. They are crammed with surfboards sticking out of their trunks or strapped onto the top of the cars. Hot beach dudes and the occasional hot beach chick pull their surfboards out of their vehicles. One by one they catch a glimpse of Jagger and smile. They wave captivated knowing this is his home too. They all assume a friendship on that tidbit alone. Jagger slams the door to his truck closed and smiles at one of his local surf buds he recognizes in the bunch. Trezner smiles back and heads over to Jagger.
Jagger hi-fives Trezner with a fist bump, “Hey man, you know they don’t let faggots surf here.”
Trezner wraps his arm tight around Jagger, “What’s up bitch? I’m taking a break from the Malibu swells. How have they been here this week?”
“In Hermosa baby, there are never any disappointments. The waves have been blowin’ up the last couple days.” Jagger’s eyes drift out to sea on the sidewalk in the distance where Garth was not long before. The sidewalk path sparkles with light where his earth angel had passed. Trezner smirks smitten by Jagger who is oblivious by the attention.
Jagger’s Revolution is a modern day love story about a tough beach thug on a hunt to conquer his love crush. Take a journey with Jagger through his dating dalliances and crushing love frustrations. He is surrounded by his colorful friends: The preppy book smart Troy, the high powered executive, Russell, and the sex loving and relationship hating Slade.
Dive into Jagger’s early years in a series of autobiographical essays revolving around the author’s love life including: The Five Year Old Incident, The High School Episode with Billy, Natasha: The Escort Chick, The Drug Conquest, Sage and The Vegas Stripper Club and Jagger’s Break as a Sex Columnist. Jagger is the alter ego of the author and he finds exhaustion with several dating entanglements that includes: Caden: the Malibu Cobra, the Skaterboy, The Englishman and The Professor.
All throughout his love, dating and sex scenarios, Jagger experiences the kind of crush and love one has as a teenager over Garth, the new lifeguard from Australia. He wrestles with an immediate silent connection with him and longs to get close.
Jagger’s Revolution contains hard biting dating wisdom surrounded by true accounts of being slighted by love while craving for that perfect mate. If Jagger develops the courage to go for it, then he just might get his wish with his lifeguard dude in the end.
Reader Advisory Warning: “Jagger’s Revolution” contains some sexually graphic and explicit content.
What readers have said about the book:
“Wow! I just read “Jagger’s Revolution”. Hot! Yum! It’s almost like a jerk off reading.”
“I hate reading, but this was the first book I actually finished all the way through since High School. It was great.”
“This book rocked my soul truly. I loved it.”
“It is hot over here and that book of yours only inflames things more.”
“This book was making me moist. I had to put it down because I was on a plane. It was embarrassing.”
“Jagger’s Revolution was a beautiful story.”
“I finished reading Jagger’s Revolution. I almost felt guilty reading some of it. I was trying to come at it from an analytical perspective, but I couldn’t help but become secretly aroused by Jagger and his friends.”
“This book sort of gave me a ‘Rebel Without a Cause” feel, but with a lot more penetration. That wasn’t a bad feeling.”
“I love Jagger tearing around the corner. That guy is so hot. I want one.”
“I read your book and I get hard, then I get flaccid, then hard again. You say something that makes you stop and think, then it switches gears and I get hard again.”
“Eww you have sex with girls in your book. Yuck! But the Billy sex! Mmm! Instant hard on reading.”
“I read your book and it was really good by the way.”
“Wow Jagger’s Revolution was kind of a gay book, but with a sex and the city edge. Loved it!”
“Crawling under the sheets is an expression loosely used to describe that instance where you bare all, but you took it one step further with this book.”
“Nice transition at the coffee shop into Slade. I heard the voicemail beep and it was Slade. I had to read to find out who he is!!”
“Love your book!! Awesome erotic stuff 🙂 but you probably get that a lot.”
“Was impressed by the books eloquence and passion.”
“When you say gay friendships missing morality and loyalty. Kevin you are right I agree.”
“Billy and Jagger. Hot scene Kevin. I had visuals”