The Wrong Side of the Glass by Josephine Myles

A laugh with some mates down the pub, a few too many Screaming Orgasms made with cheap vodka, and what do you know, Pete’s got the hiccups again. Worse yet, he knows from past experience the only way to make them go away is to starve his body of oxygen, so he heads outside to suffocate himself quietly. However, the sexy, smoking man in the alleyway suggests a cure that sounds like far more fun … for both of them!


I take a deep breath and clamp my lips shut. I even pinch my nostrils closed, because it’s so easy to give in to the temptation to cheat. Fully immersed in my cure, I look around and wonder if it’s just a figment of my oxygen-starved brain, or if that really is the most drop-dead gorgeous man I’ve ever seen leaning back against the wall. He has a shaved head, muscles bursting out all over the place, and the kind of cheekbones you could cut yourself on. He’s wearing a black T-shirt with the sleeves and collar cut off, so it hangs low under each arm, and those jeans leave very little to the imagination. I’m so distracted, my body lets rip with a mortifyingly loud hic!

He stares at me, eyebrows raised, and puffs out a perfect smoke ring before flicking the ash from his cigarette. My face heats as I give a little wave and try to calm my breathing.

‘Hi there. Hic. Name’s Pete.’

As conversational openings go, it’s not the smoothest. But he takes another drag and gives me a bemused smile, so I’m encouraged to carry on.

‘This is the point – hic – where you’re meant to tell me your infall – hic – ible hiccup cure. Come on, everyone’s got at least – hic – one. It’d better not be the giving you a blowjob – hic – one, because I’ve tried that and no matter how much jizz I – hic – swallow, it never works.’

That’s when I remember I’m not at one of my usual haunts, but have in fact been drinking with straight friends in a normal pub – the main reason I got so wasted in the first place. I say a “normal” pub, but it isn’t really. Marie’s a goth and her favourite boozer is full of big men in biker jackets drinking real ale with belligerent names like Headbanger. It’s plain cruel, inviting me somewhere with such delicious man candy, but all off limits. I needed all those poorly mixed cocktails just to relax.

I wonder if getting your head kicked in by an enraged straight bloke cures hiccups.

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