Thursday, October 27, 2016
Which man really knows how to give her what she craves?
“On your way somewhere?”
Keera Koltai lifted her gaze from the nearly empty beer bottle wrapped in her fingers to connect with a pair of very liquid, very male eyes. Brown, with flecks of lighter tan about the same colour as the bare skin of his lean chest.
What was it with the guys around these islands? Didn’t any of them wear shirts?
At least, this one had a black tee tucked into the back pocket of his low hung jeans.
He spoke again, his southern Florida accent hanging heavy in the damp August air. “Where’d you ride from?”
“Up by Tampa.” Keera swallowed the last of her beer and rolled the empty bottle in her hands as she scanned the mostly empty roadside park. The only life enjoying the mangrove shaded crushed shell shoreline was a trio of stilts, wading along in the quiet tide. Over on the other side of the parking lot some parents dug through their van, sorting out gear while their kids jumped up, trying to touch the low needles of a slash pine.
When she looked back to the guy, he nodded, swinging himself around her bright yellow Buell and dropping onto the sandy grass where she’d stopped to stretch before continuing the last few miles to the isolated campground where she was headed. The day’s last rays of sun crossed over his chest, casting shadows over his long, lean legs. Tipping his head, he said, “Nice bike.”
The Buell was Keera’s only real possession, a symbol of some constant quest. Maybe a quest for freedom, maybe a quest for something else, she really didn’t know. The bike was such a personal part of herself, a part that even she didn’t understand, she rarely talked about it with anyone. So she simply nodded and said thanks.
He slanted her a grin and held out his hand. “I’m Samuel, off-duty fishing guide.”
Keera accepted the gesture, wrapping her fingers around his wide palm. Calloused skin rasped against her fingertips as he slowly pulled away in a release so gradual it was a sensual promise. A warm sliver of awareness slipped through her, and she found herself taking an appraising look at his leanly muscled chest and flat stomach.
He noticed her stare and angled back onto his elbows, strands of his shaggy black hair catching in the evening breeze. “I was fishing the rivers that come off White Water Bay the past couple days, now I’m headed up Tamiami Trail to hang out with some friends, then, you know, whatever.”
Keera knew where the conversation was headed.
To hook up or not to hook up.
It was the scenario she’d heard her customers at Fantasies Inc. recount over and over, mostly on Wednesdays when they stopped in to take advantage of the Hot Hump Day specials as they stocked up for the upcoming weekend. She loved hearing their lusty stories about frisky one night stands and leisurely afternoons spent with long-time lovers but lately as she’d listened to the tales she’d started to wonder if there was something wrong with her.
Like now, for example. Here she was with a sexy, easy-going hottie with rough hands that could probably deliver on some sigh worthy stories for when she got back to work but she didn’t feel...enough.
Shouldn’t she be panting? Or feeling all hot and melty? Shouldn’t she be fantasising about all the things this guy could do to her—or what she could do to him?
“So how about it? You up for something?”
An inner voice shouted, this is exactly the sort of thing you need.
An opportunity to jump start her sex dive. But she hesitated. She had no reason not to hook up with him for a night or two—but she couldn’t find a reason to want to.
Think sex, Keera. Want it. Feel it.
Wednesday, October 26, 2016
Doing NaNoWriMo and plan to shape up your project once you get that first draft done?
Have a manuscript to revise?
Lost in the middle of one?
Three-week online seminar designed to get your manuscript shaped up or done.
Taught by author/college writing professor Isabelle Drake
Jan 2-January 20, 2017
$79.00 via paypal
The first draft may seem easy compared to the daunting task of revising. This online seminar provides a structured approach to shaping up and finishing your manuscript. One on one instructor conferences included. Seminar goal to revise or complete manuscript.
Email email@example.com for more info or to sign up.
Tuesday, September 20, 2016
Who doesn’t love the sweet fairytale Sleeping Beauty? A beautiful woman, frozen in time, awaiting her true love’s, awakening tender kiss. Ahhh.
Recently, I stumbled upon a very different version of Sleeping Beauty. In this one, from 2011, the main character is a university student who needs cash. She replies to an ad and starts working as a series of erotic freelance jobs.
I started to wonder, did a little research, and sure enough this sleeping beauty thing is a fetish: somnophilia. In its simplest form, the somnophiliac seeks to awaken a sleeping person with erotic caresses, gentle non-violent touches. Some scholars speculate that this particular interest is related to the much less romantic necrophilia, the desire to have sex with dead bodies. Obviously in this case the goal is not to awaken the sleeping but rather to take advantage of their incapacitated state.
It was difficult finding scholarly work on this topic but I did find an article from Psychology Today that offers some analysis. “Although somnophilia appears to have some characteristics in common with necrophilia, the two syndromes do not necessarily reflect the same underlying pathology. Using Freudian theory, Calef and Weinshel speculated that underlying somnophilia was the desire to return to the maternal womb, and that somnophiliacs had unresolved Oedipal complex issues, fixations on pre-genital stages of psychosexual development, and castration anxiety. However, as with almost all psychoanalytic theory, it is hard to design any research to either confirm or deny such speculations.
Carolyn Fay’s of the University of Virginia, explores the sinister side of this fetish. “Contemporary sleep fetish culture is driven by the idea that the sleeping person is an absent person…To the fetishist, sleep is that perfect moment when consciousness is evacuated, leaving a living, breathing fragment, worthy of love.” [Those who seek to actualize their desire to have intercourse with a sleeping person may use drugs to maintain the unconscious state] “for if the person wakes up, the fantasy and the fetish object become lost." (2002).
That’s all very dark. Whatever happened to the sweet, delicate beauty trapped under the glass? Is that innocence gone forever?
After some looking, I found House of the Sleeping Beauties (2006). Plot info from IMDb: Edmond, a man in his sixties whose wife has recently passed away, is told about a secret establishment where men can spend an entire night in bed alongside beautiful, sleeping young women, who stretch, roll over and dream, but never awaken. Bedazzled by their seductive yet innocent tenderness, but distressed about the reason for their deep sleep, he delves into the mystery of the house of sleeping beauties.
The film is German and the only trailer I could find is without subtitles, but I don't think you need to understand the words to understand the story or main character.
So what have we learned? The Sleeping Beauty fetish is out there and comes in extremes. From sweetly romantic to darkly dangerous. In some ways that's not much. In other ways its everything.
Monday, August 29, 2016
Pink Lace excerpt:
Kelly’s blood turned warm and that jumpiness started to pool in her center. Not from fear, but from that internal heat starting to gather in her core and pulse downward, settling deep inside her.
He can’t be serious.
“Have you met my husband, Edward?” she asked.
The man’s brown eyes were steady. “No, I haven’t. But he’s watching us now.”
Kelly’s gaze hopped from one security camera to the next. The green lights on top of each glowed softly.
“That’s why the cameras were installed. So he could watch.”
Her heart started to thump and she a lump formed in her throat. “I don’t believe you,” she said, finally finding her voice.
The man folded his arms across his chest. “Send him a text.”
Kelly pulled her cell from her pocket. A text from Edward, sent two minutes ago, displayed on the screen. I love you.
She wrote back. Can you see me? Him?
The reply was quick. Yes.
She stared at the screen, trying to think of what else to ask. Even though she had many questions, she asked only the most obvious. You set this up?
This time the reply took longer. Finally the screen blinked. Yes.