Excerpt Lust for Life by SeanPaul Thomas

Tuesday, February 24, 2015

Title: Lust for Life
Author: Seanpaul Thomas
Series: Stand Alone
Genre: Contemporary/Dark/Adult Fiction/British Men's Adventure
Publisher: Paul Thomas Publishing
Release Date: Aug 2014
Blurb/Synopsis:
If you knew you only had a short time left to live on this planet, really live. What would you do with that precious time?
A dark, sexy, black humorous tale of sex, violence, the male psyche, and an unstoppable whirlwind adventure of finding love in the least likely location.

Short Synopsis - Set in modern day Edinburgh - A man with terminal brain cancer decides to rebel against society and go out with a bang by living out his dreams and most wild fantasies. But even when he finds love and a new lease of life, it fails to stop his new adventurous ways from spiraling into an unstoppable train wreck of carnage.

Long Synopsis - Set in modern day Edinburgh, an average everyday working man in his mid-thirties is given the devastating news that he has terminal Brain Cancer. Refusing any kind of help or Chemo, he struggles with overbearing thoughts on becoming a better person and giving into his natural urges, social fears and sexual desires to do and act however the hell he pleases. No longer wishing to obey the rules and regulations of monotonous everyday life. Now our hero yearns to know what it's like to live a life without regret and consequences while his mind is still a healthy functioning one.  The story unfolds with a slow burning tension as our hero eventually turns his back on modern day society and begins using his terminal illness as a license to act out his biggest dreams and fantasies. Good and bad. While also squaring up to a couple of long time buried, but not forgotten, demons from his past. But when he finds love along the way even that comes with a heavy price.
****WARNING CONTAINS THE FOLLOWING****
Scottish dialect/slang, Strong Violence and Language in parts and a couple of Graphic Sex Scenes.
Excerpt 

I couldn't help wonder if she gave good head as I sat opposite the middle aged doctor inside her private office at the Royal. She'd just told me that I had some form of terminal Brain Cancer, but it hadn't registered properly because I wasn't paying attention to her words any longer. She was overweight, apple figured, yet with a cute round face that could still turn heads walking past a building site, although couldn't anything in a skirt these days? I imagined she'd been one of the popular pretty girls back in high school. Back in the days when she'd at least had her figure under some lenient control.
I couldn't take my eyes away from a tiny little bubble of spit on her lower lip. It made me aroused watching it linger there all seductively, taunting me. I felt an irresistible urge to just lean over and lick it gently from her face. But I controlled it. I refocused. My mind snapped back to reality. Fear and sadness once again overwhelmed my thoughts. Something in the air felt wrong. Very, very wrong. I lowered my head, raising my hands at the same time. Halfway into the motion the two met and I found myself buried face deep inside my cupped hands.
'I just, I just can't take this in.'
Even though I was Scottish and had lived in the country on and off since birth, the Scottish accent I'd acquired over the years never really dominated my tongue like most born and raised locals. The Doc was proper south of the border English though and sighed hard before responding.
'I'm so, so sorry Liam.'
I tore my face away from my hands, gently shaking my head before smirking sarcastically.
'So how long huh? How long have I got?'
The doctor sighed.
'Please Liam. Don't do this.'
'Come on eh? What's my sentence? Best guess. Give it to me.'
'Liam, I really couldn't say.'
'How about the last person you diagnosed. How long did they get huh?'
The doc remained silent. Curiously observing me with both sorrow and pity. She really wanted to give me a good positive answer I could tell. A wee bit of good news for the long road ahead. But of course that wouldn't be very honest of her now would it? So all she could do was stare.
Briefly I wondered if she found me attractive too. I imagined making my seductive move on her. Would she welcome it? Would she let me stick my tongue deep inside her mouth and move it around, entangling it with her own, before letting me run my hands all over her soft plump body in the process. Would she enjoy it? Would she make the move for my zipper and then... My wondering mind snapped back to reality and a rage consumed me.
'Well let's hear it then doc, Jesus!' I exploded, unable to contain my frustration mixed with sexual desire. 'It's like waiting for the bloody X factor results for Christ sake.'
She shifted in her seat. Shaken abruptly from her staring trance by my quickly increasing aggressive manner.
'With treatment, Chemo, I don't know Liam. Maybe a year, maybe less. That's my best guess.'
I refocused upon that tiny spit bubble again. It calmed me. Soothed me immensely. It made me feel good. Fuck the chemo. All that shite just to be able to cling to a few extra months of life. To hope for a year at best. My Uncle had passed away a few years earlier with Leukaemia and it made my stomach churn just thinking about all the crap he had to put up with when he could have been doing something else with his time. Something more memorable and productive with the end of his life.
Screw that shite. I'm out of here.
I nodded kindly at the doc. Thanked her for all the information she'd passed onto me and left. She stood abruptly. Calling out to me about making an appointment with some other specialist next week. More tests. More horseshit clairvoyancey. More wasted time and taxpayers money. I wasn't listening anymore.
I walked past the cancer ward's waiting room filled with more sad cases and zombified victims waiting to be told about their afflictions and survival rates. I kept walking. She fell out of ear shot. I followed one of the ridiculously coloured lines on the hospital floor leading to some other part of the hospital. I choose the yellow lined path leading for the exit. I felt like the fucking Scarecrow from the wizard of Oz. 'Oh we're off to see the Wizard...' But there would be no magical wizard or magic cure lying in wait for me with a new brain at the end of this brick road.
I made my way outside. Grey skies towered and rumbled above, urinating upon me with their wet drizzle. A storm was coming. A big fucking storm. When I reached the car park a cool breeze gratefully hit my face like a soft cool fan on a humid summers day. It felt good to be outside. To be at one and at peace with natures earthly fresh air. It felt good to be alive. They say that some people, some lucky few on this earth, only really appreciate life and it's real meaning when they're given their own personal expiry date.
But oh how I've pondered over the meaning of it all these past few weeks since having the possibility of a near terminal end thrown in my face. The things we do to live a so called long, healthy and normal life. The empty meaningless, monotonous, mundane tasks, hobbies, activities, careers, love, sex, friends, family, people and all the other trivia shite we fill our empty lives with. All of them doing there very best to fill some hollow void in our conscious minds and distract us from the day to day process of growing older and nudging another step, another minute, another hour, closer towards our inevitable deaths. Our species, Mother Earth's very own terminal cancer, have never been so spiritual or intellectually minded in all of our existence than we are today. Yet we are still narrow minded and rammed full of such pretentious and superficial self importance, convinced that our own individual lives have much more worth and meaning than that of any of our fellow neighbours lives, while still harbouring some hope and belief that there will be a simple, perfect meaning and explanation to it all in our final conscious hour. Our minds have evolved so far beyond our basic animal caveman way of thinking, yet we still actually harbour the possibility that there is going to be some kind of redemption. Some sort of beautiful ray of light or a magical white bearded wizard welcoming us at the end of it all. Oh what images and illusions of grandeur our minds conjure up at our most desperate times of need.
Let me tell you about the meaning of life. We are all acts of a random nature and none of us should even be here right now in the first place. So embrace it. And anyone alive and reading my words should count themselves one of the lucky ones. For your conscious mind is still here in this moment.



Born in London to Scottish and Irish parents, Sean spent most of his childhood and teenage years growing up on the move in the likes of Cyprus, Germany, Wales and England as an army brat. With a keen interest in both reading and writing he was diagnosed with the travel and writing bugs very early on in life.  Now, writing, reading and traveling are his main passions in life, but he also loves outdoor sports too from Rugby and Hiking to Tennis and Boxing. His main inspiration for writing today comes from living in such a beautiful, Gothic and hauntingly, awe inspiring city such as Edinburgh. This charming wee city has given Sean so much amazing inspiration to write the more time he spends there.
At this moment Sean is writing another two books, one is a sequel to his science fiction novel Alone. The other is about an alcoholic man down on his luck and still dwelling over past tragedies. Who, after a failed suicide attempt, falls for a single mother with an even darker and secretive tragic past than his own.

So far he has two published work of fiction


And four self-published novels.


Places to find SeanPaul

Places to find Lust for Life

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