Adventures of a Dark Duke: The Pin

By Russell C. Brennan

Action & adventure, New adult fiction, Hybrid & other, Music & musicians

Paperback, eBook

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6 mins


Urban myth has it that someone once stuck a pin in a map and followed it to have an adventure. Well, I haven’t found a book or a film about it and I don’t know anyone who has actually done it. My name is Dark Duke and this is my adventure.

Once upon a time, I had a great teacher who told me I was one of the most creative writers she had come across and once I added life experiences to the proceedings I could really make an impact as a writer. My life has taken many different turns since then and my writing came in the form of songs instead of books and scripts and I then followed the glory trail to scale the heights of the world of music instead. Although not a mainstream hit artist I found myself at the top of the British Indie charts with my band ‘The Artistic Outlaws’ and a new album ‘Heavy Breathing Decade’ was getting lots of good reviews and sales.

I had recently felt the pull to return to writing stories, so with funds available from the album sales I decided it was time to step up to the plate and eat everything that life had to offer until the plate was licked clean. So, I headed for an adventure that was worthy of writing about and that’s when the myth about the pin pricked my consciousness.

I sat in my study chewing some gum contemplating my next move. A globe of the world sat perched on a stand in the corner staring back at me. I got up and spun it. I then threw my gum in its direction. It stuck to the globe but it had landed on the Atlantic Ocean. A second throw bounced off the globe and onto the floor. Third time lucky, it stuck to the U.S.A. I might have known. Florida was to be my starting point.

As I queued up for my car hire in Orlando, Florida amongst the Disneyland hoards, I wondered, would my experience be a Mickey Mouse affair or the genuine article. I had made a deal with myself if I was going to do it, I had to do it right and if that meant taking risks that’s what I’d do.

I finally sat like a king in my hired open top convertible (Well, you have to do it in style don’t you?) I took a map from the glove compartment and took out the pin that would dictate my life for the next month. I closed my eyes and plunged it into the map. ‘Clearwater’. Sounded like a nice place, it was by the sea and not far from Tampa Bay, which I’d vaguely heard of. Then came the moment I had waited for, I pulled a CD from my pocket and slipped it in the stereo, revved up the car's engine and pulled away along a palm tree strewn highway to the sounds of ‘Born to be Wild’ by Steppenwolf. I was on my way!

Chapter One

The sea air caressed my face like the touch of an exotic woman as I drove into Clearwater. I pulled up by a weather-beaten phone booth and opened a phone book at the section marked hotels/motels and then the pin did its second act of the day. It sent me to a slightly run down motel not too far from the beach where seagull shit adorned the exterior. Did that mean it was a lucky or unlucky place? I’m sure I would soon find out. I duly booked in, unpacked and put phase three of my plan to the test.

I sought out the first decent looking café I could find that had a batch of free newspapers sitting invitingly at a nearby kiosk. I grabbed this fountain of local knowledge followed by a coffee. As I sat outside sipping my cappuccino and soaking up a few rays it was time to see what fate had in store for me that night. I flung open the paper at random to see what would jump back out at me from it. ‘Naked Poetry.’ I smiled, that’s most definitely the chap for me I thought, things looked to be getting off to a good start.

It was lo-fi, low rent and very bohemian, The Troubadour Café and Bar was half full and dimly lit with shadowy figures buzzing around from one table to another like flies. The air hung heavy with a faint smell of a recently smoked joint and stale beer. The ambiance was completed by the sound of jangly indie guitar music fighting for supremacy over the high decibel mutterings. It was an arty venue that’s for sure. I ordered myself a cocktail and as my feet half stuck to the beer stained floor I found myself a table in the corner to make myself as low profile as possible.

It wasn’t long before proceedings began and the first person had taken the title of the event seriously. They were naked and reading poetry. Their poem was dull and so was their body, this bearded hippy had got it so wrong. Although I had hoped to see the occasional naked female I knew from writing the odd poem myself that naked usually referred to bearing your soul.

Fortunately, the bearded bard’s appearance was brief and a nice looking fully clothed girl followed. The place started to fill out quite nicely as the first highlight of the night arrived, a naked girl with large breasts. I got the feeling she knew naked didn’t mean nude but thought she’d grab people’s attention anyway. I don’t remember the poem, although I’m sure it was good because my attention lay elsewhere. 

The mention of large breasts may have led you to think this was my main point of interest and I was a predictable male of the species. This couldn’t be further from the truth, for you see I worship at life’s entry point, yes, I’m a pussy man and this poetess’s entry point was very inviting, it was naked and very defined.

As I pondered on what it would be like to be up inside her my thoughts were rudely interrupted by a skinny arty looking blonde girl in a pink leather jacket. She was asking to sit at my table. My disappointment then turned to glee as I fully took stock of her. Let me tell you, this girl liked pink; she had tight pink jeans that cried out camel toe. Forget blue suede shoes this girl trod the light fantastic in pink suede boots. The aforementioned pink jacket and pink headscarf completed this pink vision. The only thing not pink was her white T-shirt emblazoned with the words ‘Pink Explosion’, well she got that right, it definitely described her. After recovering from this pink overload it was her pink lipstick stained lips and January Jones looks that got my attention, they were most definitely the most kissable lips I’d seen in a long while. So, naturally, I was only too pleased to let her share my table. She introduced herself as Laura and we both ordered some cocktails from a waitress. They call me Dark Duke I told her. She didn’t seem surprised and I briefly wondered why she wasn’t surprised because people always ask why Dark Duke? She just enquired if I had come here to do a poetry reading? I told her no. Her next line then really threw me like an unexpected judo throw. “As a songwriter, I thought you’d be here to do a poetry reading.”

How did this pink vision know I wrote songs? I was as shocked as if I’d stuck my hand in an electric socket. “What makes you think I write songs?” I enquired, She shook her pretty little head and smiled, “I’ve got your latest album Heavy Breathing Decade. You’re the lead singer with The Artistic Outlaws are you not? You can run but you can’t hide, I recognised you as soon as you walked in.” She fluttered her eyelashes in an over the top way and said, “Can I have your autograph please?”

I know I’m in a band but I always get surprised when someone recognises me. You think that only happens to mainstream music artists but I guess if over 10,000 people have got your album you’re going to occasionally meet someone outside of a gig environment who has a copy.

She pulled a felt tipped pen out of her pocket and took off her jacket, then asked me to sign the back of her T-shirt, although personally I would have preferred to have signed the front. I duly obliged, taking my time about it. I then noticed the same phrase on her pen as her T-shirt, it was completed with an email address and phone number. She said I could keep the pen. She then pressed me about a poetry performance. I was still reluctant. She informed me she was the star turn and if I didn’t get up and do some poetry nor would she and a lot of people would be very disappointed. I thought she was bluffing but a gaggle of girls suddenly swarmed around our table like bees around honey and this time it was her doing the autographs. There was definitely more to this girl than met the eye. She then shouted out, “I’m not performing tonight unless this guy here does a reading as well,” pointing at me in the process. I then became the honey pot as multiple personalities tried to persuade me to hit the spotlight. I quickly gave in and the crowd dispersed. I guess I am a natural performer after all, so what’s the big deal? The big deal was I had never done a poetry reading before but how different could it be to singing with a band, it was just words without the music, right?

Laura and I were alone once again. She smiled and gave me a kiss on the cheek. “See, that wasn’t so hard. Anyway, I don’t see the problem, your lyrics are very much like poetry and since this is called naked poetry and your new album is full of sexy and erotic songs this is your ideal audience.”

Strangely, I don’t get nervous performing with my band but a solo spot doing poetry made me think I should have worn my brown trousers. Anyway, I duly got up on stage and did a poetry rendition of a song from my album called ‘Sex on the Internet’.

Sexy girl seeks sexy boy, Sexy boy seeks sexy girl
Purpose......... Swap fantasies

Sexy boy meets sexy girl, Sexy girl meets sexy boy
Purpose.......Danger with a stranger

Sex on the Internet
It keeps you warm it keeps you wet
Sex on the Internet
It’s up to you what you get

Cyber girl seeks Cyber boy, Cyber boy seeks cyber girl
Purpose.........Cyber sex

Sex on the Internet, Sex on the Internet

Submit here have no fear
You’re so far and yet so near
Sex on the Internet, Sex on the Internet

Boy seeks boy, Girl seeks girl
The Internet is a different world
Purpose....To be somebody else

Sex on the Internet
I want it here, I want it now
Sex on the Internet
Watch out girls here it comes
Sex on the Internet
Wipe the screen and keep it clean

E-mail me your ultimate fantasy
Don’t hold back, don’t keep it clean
Swap sexy photos over the net
It’s an experience you won’t forget
We are all voyeurs
We just don’t like to admit it
We’re all voyeurs
We’re all in it

The applause rang out as I came off stage. It would appear I had gone down extremely well like a refreshing ice cream on a hot summer’s day and I had to admit it was a buzz. People were talking at me from all angles but one girl made her presence felt more than the rest. She was a heavyweight gothic looking girl called Bella. Her black attire and hair was a complete contrast to my new pink friend and more in keeping with my own garb. She pulled me to one side, “I really loved your beatnik delivery and the poem was very sexy indeed. I’m still wet from listening to it.” Job done, I thought but I could tell she wanted more.



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