It had been our anniversary. My husband had arranged for a weekend at a romantic Victorian hotel. Not that we need a special occasion to celebrate, our time together is always special. Although we enjoy trying new restaurants, it had been a while since we’d had time just to ourselves, and the last thing on our minds would be getting dressed up and going out. Well, the last thing on my mind anyway, and I hoped, his. I checked into the room early while he was still at a meeting and decided to prepare an indoor picnic.
The city market was nearby and the many specialty shops surrounding it would provide all we would need. As I wandered the maze of stalls, I was overwhelmed by the choices. The smells, the colors, the sounds of the shoppers wheeling and dealing filled me with excitement. I was aroused thinking about sharing it with him and I couldn’t help but transfer that arousal to my choices. Decadent, sensual, spicy choices; fresh crusty bread, piquant olives, creamy cheeses, sweet, juicy fruits—and when I saw the delicate smoked lobster, I couldn’t resist. I had enough food to feed a family of four, but my appetite for food was being fueled by a hunger of a different kind. The large ripe strawberries caught my eye on the way out. I almost passed-too cliché, but the sign said, ‘homegrown.’ I bit into the sample and the authentic flavor hit my tongue, I groaned in ecstasy. The vendor raised a brow before bagging my purchase.
I returned to the hotel and borrowed a few items from their kitchen. I still had time to prepare for his arrival, so I soaked in the claw foot tub, running through my mental checklist. I wanted it to be perfect. I took extra care with my make-up and hair and dressed as if we were going out. I knew he would be in a suit coming from work, and if I greeted him in lingerie, we would never get around to eating—food anyway. What took hours of preparation would be cancelled out within five minutes when we lost our battle to be patient. We try, but we just never seem to be able to wait.
My heart was racing. He had just called to say he was five minutes away. I couldn’t wait to see him even though it had only a day since he’d kissed me goodbye. I always felt that way though. After all these years my heart still skips a beat when he walks through the door. I checked my reflection one last time, smoothed the duvet, plumped the pillows and paced the room my pulse racing, my tummy fluttering. I saw the wine bucket empty on the desk—I had forgotten the wine! Everything so perfect and I forgot the wine. I picked up the phone to call room service but heard the key turning in the lock. I pushed out a breath as my heart squeezed in anticipation.
He looked good enough to eat. His black cashmere coat hugging his broad shoulders, the crisp white shirt and striped silk tie. He always looked so put together. I could see a little of his day lingering in the shadows under his eyes, but when he looked at me and smiled, the tiredness seemed to be swept away. In one hand he held a dozen red roses, and in the other, a bottle of pink champagne. Sounds like a romance novel I know, but we are old fashioned romantic that way. I nodded toward the bucket full of ice and he dropped the bottle and the roses into it before taking off his coat.
He stood there, still looking at me in the snug fitting wool dress and fuck me heels like I was dinner. I could feel his thoughts touching my skin. I was trembling, my nipples were so hard they hurt, but I was enjoying the tension of waiting. He opened his arms and said, ’Come to me.’ I love when he demands things of me—in the bedroom anyway. I stepped into his embrace and my body relaxed against him. I could feel his erection pressing into my thigh. We just stood like that; close, quiet, wanting—for what seemed like an eternity before he pushed me toward the bed. ‘No’- I’d told him. ‘First we eat and then we fuck.’ He laughed and pushed his hand under my tight skirt wiggling his fingers in the moist heat of my cunt. I moaned, the need strong, but I clamped my hand over his wrist and pulled his fingers from my aching flesh.
I pushed his suit coat back slowly then made an elaborate event of straightening it and hanging it on the chair. Slowly, I unknotted his tie and opened the buttons on his shirt one by one. Next the intricate work of removing the cufflinks before pulling the shirt from his trousers and again, hanging it carefully over the chair. I urged him toward the bed, making him sit. I could hear his breathing now. We didn’t speak, he knew and I knew. I removed his shoes and socks then grabbed his belt buckle and pulled him up. He stood so close to me that each deep breath he took caused his body to graze mine. I shoved his pants and briefs to the floor. I wanted to drop to my knees and taste him. His cock was thick and hard and so very close to my mouth. As I bent to retrieve his slacks, I exhaled; sending a warm burst of air over his groin. My mouth was watering, but all that food…
I pulled the tablecloth covering the picnic away and he looked in amazement at the spread I’d prepared. He took a plump berry and pressed it to my lips. I opened slightly and he thrust it into my mouth along with his fingers. The sweet juices exploded on my tongue then he kissed me. Oh, the taste of him and the strawberry mixing was so exotic. My head was spinning. I felt my stomach clench in anticipation.
His soft chuckle reminded me that I’d said we’d wait. He turned me and unzipped my dress. I felt the fabric parting exposing my warm skin and I shivered with desire. His fingers ran the length of my spine and as he knelt and pushed the dress to the floor, his tongue followed, tracing the line to my bottom. His teeth found the soft mound and I squirmed with need as he bit into the tender cheek. He inched the panties over my hips and down my trembling legs. Lifting each foot, he kissed my instep before removing my shoes then rolling the stockings off. I could feel the dampness on my thighs and I pressed them together until I felt a sharp tingle run through my clit. He stood and unhooked my bra pushing it down my arms and letting it fall to the floor. His cock pressed into my bottom, his warm chest against my back. He lifted my hair from my shoulders and kissed along my neck. I was so ready. Then he whispered in my ear, ‘Food first, remember?’
He poured the champagne and we toasted to our future. We sat naked, sharing the delicacies, and each other. A kiss here, a caress there, a slow tease and we sated one hunger while fueling another. We reminisced, shared dreams and fears, we laughed and remembered how good it is to just be us. The passion was there, in every moment, but it took a different form. Our passion was for one another, not just for sex. We finished with some artisan chocolates and fruit. He took the bowl of bright red berries and the half-full bottle of champagne and set them on the night stand. I know, he is so romantic, and I am the luckiest girl in the world but wait—it gets better.
I was putting the food away and he watched me moving around the room, I could tell he was contemplating what he would do to please me. We were comfortable naked, but the way he looked at me was making my skin burn. As if we hadn’t taken a break, the intensity of arousal returned and I could hardly breathe. He didn’t ask, but I knew he needed me. The walk to the bed was only a few steps, but it seemed miles away. I stood before him. His hand stroked my tummy and my breasts. He wrapped his arms around my shoulders and pulled me down onto him, his mouth covering mine in a deep slow kiss. My control was slipping, I was lost already. I didn’t care how or when or why, I just had to be with him.
He popped a berry into my mouth and kissed me again. The sweet kiss was pushing my orgasm close. Another berry, crushed against my nipples, he licked and lapped until my back arched and I forced my breasts against his mouth, begging for release. Each time I neared orgasm, he stopped. The tiny seeds and soft pulp sliding against my clit was more than I could bear and now I was running for the edge of the cliff. The cool juices ran over my labia mixing with my own and I wondered what it tasted like. He could tell me, because now he was sucking and licking—tasting all of me. My hips were moving, my legs taut, I was ready to explode.
He pushed his tongue inside my cunt and I screamed. He drew it out and I groaned, then I felt it, the plump berry sliding into my pussy. It was soft and cool and very naughty. He dipped it inside, twisting the stem so it swirled against my g-spot. He pulled it back out and looked up at me before taking a bite. A trickle of juice ran down his chin and it made my mouth water. Again, he pushed a berry inside. Carefully he moved it in and out. When he offered me a taste, I could see my own creamy juices dripping from it before he plunged it into my mouth. It was exquisite to taste my desire for him. He gorged himself on the heady treat until I could hold back no longer and exploded, pushing the last of the fruit from inside me.
Content in my afterglow, he stroked my body. He took a drink of champagne then kissed me, letting the sweet wine flow into my parched mouth. He always cares for me so tenderly. ‘We need to clean you up,’ he’d said. I didn’t want to move. He was in charge now.
I felt the hard, cold glass pushing at my wet slit. I wasn’t sure at first, but when I felt the lip of the bottle pass through into my cunt, I panicked. I trust him completely, but ‘what if’ was racing through my mind. Slowly, he eased it deeper; the smooth, cool phallus soothing my heat. I opened my eyes and looked down at him. He peered between my legs like a surgeon, careful to protect me, but when he glanced up and I saw the dirty boy looking back at me, my pleasure swiftly came to a head. He moved the bottle slowly, twisting round and round, sliding it in and out. I could hear the liquid sloshing against the glass keeping the cylinder cool. My nerves were alive, my body tingling, my need to come front and center. I tried to keep my hips still, but he increased the pace and I started to peak as he fucked me. I was panting, begging, reaching—then it happened, he pulled out sharply and thrust back in, the champagne erupted like a fountain inside my cunt. The tiny bubbles expanded, popping like tiny pinpricks against my flesh; a fine, delicate, high-pitched hum of sensation so new, so exciting, so exquisite that my scream came out with no sound as the orgasm ripped through me. He covered my pussy with his mouth and drank his fill of the cool luscious fizz.
I guess we didn’t need the wine after all. Both, my juices, and the champagne, flowed freely all night long.
I live in my own little world, but it is okay, they like me here… was on a t-shirt I noticed the other day. How true, I thought! So much of what I do revolves around fantasy.
The stories I write, the DEV© audios at eSensual Books, the pseudonym-persona that appears to the public, and the vision of making my dreams come true, shape a great deal of my world.
Since I was a small child I found it easy to slip away into other worlds that I created in my head. It was, and still is, difficult when reality cuts in announced and the gears grind together.
They say our perception is our reality, but sometimes the distinction between the two is clear and obvious. As with many things, you cannot appreciate the good, without a little bad to remind you why ‘this’ is better. If we can create a world, experience it through our thoughts and words and experience, then does it not take on a form of reality? After all, if it is our perception...
I heard from teachers and parents and coworkers- Where are you? Quit daydreaming and pay attention. Today a label would be attached to me and perhaps, a script from the DR, but I was not swayed by the opinion of others. Just like dreams in our REM sleep, the fantasy helped shaped who I would become, assisted in sorting through conflict, and brought peace and serenity during the times when life got to be a little overwhelming.
The downside to all of this is, that when we imagine, we often exclude the negative. While the positive energy created in a no-conflict world can assist us in making it through tough times, it can also make simple things more difficult to cope with.
So how do I manage? Reviews from my stories have often included words like “pain, angst, suffering,” and more than one editor has told me,”You need a happy ending!” I cannot write a happy ending because they want it, I can only finish the work the way it is intended.
My Writing seems to be a way of using those fantasies and daydreams I enjoy while in La La Land and bring them to truth. We read for escape and I wouldn’t want a beach read to make me cry, but I do enjoying reading another’s words that I can relate to, and empathize with, even if it is sharing their pain. Humans have banded together in common causes since the beginning and sharing the truth of fiction is no stranger to those groups.
I don’t plot or outline. I am a ‘pantser’ to the core. The words come as they will and they can only be held back for so long. Writers block is simply a way for some of us to take a break from all of the head on emotion. Red Smith once said, "Writing is simple: all you need to do is sit down at the typewriter, open a vein, and bleed on to the page."
When we are ready to confront the release, the words will still be there waiting. Until then, I’m off with the fairies creating visions for happy days to come.
I’ve always prided myself in staying up to date with the pulse of the world. Curious by nature, a voracious reader, I pick up bits and pieces of information that allows me to at least discuss current events with some intelligence.
Having a 21 yrs. old son also helps to keep me in the loop. He shares his love of music, technology and philosophy. Truth be told, I might be lost with the rapid advance of technology without him.
Today I stopped to fill up the car and while I waited to pay, a woman came in and asked if there was one bathroom for everyone. I laughed and replied that soon that would be the case almost everywhere. Slightly older than me, a vacant stare was her response.
My views are fairly liberal and I am pleased with the easy acceptance of many changes in the world over the last few years. It has opened people’s minds and hearts to the possibility of finding their own happiness. Yes, I know there are many who want to try and control the world in which they live. Follow the rules. Stay in the box, but as the small victories for the ‘round pegs in the square holes’ continue to add up, the world is evolving as it should.
I am having my roof replaced next week. The adjustor came out to take a look. A small folding ladder in the trunk came out and up to the pitch SHE climbed. I couldn’t believe I actually asked her, “You’re going up there?” I was immediately embarrassed, but out of old school training came the shock that a woman would be the one. I have been on many roofs in my lifetime—usually to sunbathe with iodine laced baby oil or a frat party on the top of the science building at Georgia Tech, but that was long ago.
The roofer showed up shortly after. Pulling up in a new burgundy hummer, SHE stepped out with her Louis Vuitton bag – small terrier included and proceeded to join the adjuster on the roof. I could hear them carrying on up there and was almost sorry that they had not invited me up, too. Of course, I was too busy pondering if roofers drive hummers and carry Vuitton, maybe I should give up writing and switch careers!
We might only get one go round on this earth, so why is it so difficult to make our lives our own? ‘Go confidently in the direction of your dreams and live the life you’ve imagined,’ (Thoreau) has always been a rally cry for me and though it is a struggle to stay on the path, I push away the fear when I think about the way life used to be.
I’ve never been the best at following the rules, but I did it for a long time. I’ve might not be ‘okay’ with a lot of injustices and discrepancies in the day to day state of affairs and I will probably still balk at the status quo, but there is hope for us all to move forward. Now more than ever before ‘living the life you’ve imagined’ is close enough to touch.
“A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.’ (Laozi) The journey IS the joy and it will lead you to the only destination that truly matters: your authentic self.
So put on the Fitbit, lace up the trainers, and step in to the world. I’ll see you at the finish line.
I was recently involved in a heated conversation with colleagues at The Manor about an article stating that kinky sex and polyamory are good for you.
This may be true. I do agree that sex as a rule is good for you in many ways. Kinky sex may even be better--all that stretching. The best work out program-ever, the best drugs freely available to create and maintain the peace inside you and, toss in a little pain or denial to build up your desire and everyone will want to know your secret to happiness.
Polyamory is not something I have ever considered for myself. I have loved, lost and loved again, so, I know that there is more than one… however, personally I have never loved more than one at a time. I know many polyamorous people who lead happy lives when they work within the boundaries they have created, but it is not my choice.
Many cultures throughout history, and currently, believe in having more than one spouse or lover. In some countries where religion and government haven’t suppressed free thought completely a mistress is considered de riquer and is not only acceptable to the wife, but often she is involved in a tryst of her own.
Many would cry foul, but if it is agreed upon between two adults ahead of time, who are we to judge? Can we not love others in different ways? Are there seasons of our life when we need fulfillment in other ways? What of the age-old parental dilemma when a child says ‘you love my brother more than me’? Is that true or is it simply that we love each individual uniquely?
So what is your point, Genevieve? While I believe everyone has a right to experience pleasure in any way they choose as long as no one is harmed, the absolute is: honesty. Absolute honesty. Communication in these types of relationships are paramount to maintain their success and bring pleasure to all. My point is, that any sexual interaction with intent whether it be IRL, a phone call, text or online can be construed as ‘cheating’ if you’re in a committed relationship. It is the intent to deceive and not simply the sex itself.
Many can justify that if I am not physically having intercourse it is not sex. Perhaps if I simply omit the details, is not outright lying, so it is ok. If I lie to protect my partner, it is better. But what of the emotional attachments that may be involved in these interactions? If you’re not chatting pure sex just to get off, but using these interactions to relate the intimacy then is it simply sex? Is not breaking the trust of intimacy more cruel than a simple physical act… So what? While inserting tab A into slot B can be a purely physical act like scratching an itch, it is when the emotional connection happens that it all changes.
When I make an emotional connection with someone, my body tends to agree and I am only interested in sharing it where the connection lies. When I was younger, sex was a different story than it is now. I experimented, I looked for physical pleasure, but could not seem to grasp the brass ring. The physical act without the connection holds little sway with me, but with history and the wisdom that comes from living, I have found the greatest pleasure I have ever known through true intimacy. The profound sense of peace that comes from vulnerability, allowing another to truly see you. The pure joy of letting go.
So, your lover not feeling like quite enough? Thinking a little strange would set you right? Afraid you’ve missed out on so many choices? Then be honest with your partner or take the risk. My suggestion would be that instead you work on building the intimacy in your current relationship first, because it will give you pleasure beyond your wildest dreams. And while you might think there are many beautiful bodies or different techniques yet to be discovered, you might not find what you are looking for without that connection.
I guess if I want to be happy and healthy, I am going to have to seriously ramp up the whole kinky sex thing because while I am all for plenty of sex, I do not feel that polyamory would be a good fit for me. Unless of course, my partner would go for a threeesome…
Taking the leap can be scary, the adrenaline rushing through your veins, the fear of missing the mark making you hesitate, but then you are flying through the void and for a moment the freedom is more exhilarating than anything you’ve ever known.
This is a leap year and will not return for another 4 years. We read on social media all the various phenomenon that won’t recur in our lifetime. 800 years before March will have four Saturdays….but that does not really affect me.
Leap Day has always been a day that usually slips by unnoticed, but because it is somewhat unique I always found it exciting when I was younger. Sadie Hawkins dances where –horror- we had to ask the boys and then as time moved on the possibility that if worse came to worse, I could actually propose to my beloved.
There are two sides to this coin for me. Who wants to propose to a guy that can’t seem to do it first? I would have to guess he didn’t want to or he would. Guys are pretty straight forward like that. I have always been clear that I only want what is freely given. The obligatory is not worth my time, yes, maybe I have pushed, persuaded or otherwise tried to squeeze another drop when it was not due, but honestly, if you don’t want me than why bother?
The other side begs, why should it be the man to ask? Dates, trips, marriages- are we not two separate people joined by a common love? Should we not have equal say? Should an important step like marriage not be discussed thoroughly prior to the commitment? We think we know one another, think that we will sort out the rest because after all love can fix anything, right?
The sad truth is that all the love in the world cannot fix everything. Sometimes, love is not enough to make it work. Sometimes we miss the mark because we believe that the fairytale will happen as it should. Sometimes fear will destroy us.
So now what? Do I propose because it is my right, because it is leap year and it will take the pressure off with humor, because I know in my heart and through endless conversations on the subject, we make a great team or do I hold back and wait? Take the chance of enabling the status quo or simply admitting I am afraid of rejection. Even more afraid that the hesitation. the fear of the simple act of the leap itself, could change my life forever -filled with the regret of 'if only's'
Do we always know when the time is right? Can we ever be sure of success? If love is not enough, will we fight for what is? Will marriage change anything except my name and status? Or will we simply love as richly as we always do, just now with a piece of paper that says we should?
I don’t know the answer to many of these questions. What is right for one, may not be for another, but I do know that I have always gone after what I wanted with a fierce determination. My heart whispers the truth and I must listen. Whatever the answer is, I do know I am looking forward to the wind in my hair, the exhilarating sense of freedom and the joy of whispering back to my heart that I was willing to making the leap.
Well, I missed a month- oh, no! The tides will not stop turning and the sun will continue to rise and set, and of course, the readers will survive an extra day without my wit and wisdom-- tongue firmly in cheek.
January seemed to be a long extension of the holiday season for me this year. Normally, I would be full steam ahead in to the New Year, but this time more than a few snafus in life took me on a roller coaster ride making the day to day complicated. I managed to meet my deadlines, but just barely…
Fortunately I have reached the place in my life where I realize that priorities must be set—and met. The things we worry about may or may not come to pass, the little things that seem so important aren’t, and those, who perhaps—over-depend on us, will survive if we don’t quite live up to their needs.
Sometimes even with the best intentions of trying to be true to all the voices clamoring for our attention, we let people down and they let us down. We need to have boundaries in place because without boundaries, we cannot be true to ourselves.
Perhaps, it will help them understand how much they rely on us- the fixers, the peacemakers, the slack picker-uppers. Sometimes we make it so easy for others, so seamless, they eventually come to believe it is a right. The way it will always be. And if we dare to veer off that course—well, the sun may seem to no longer rise and set for them and they panic. So begins the cycle again.
It is all too easy to blame ourselves for being weak, pat ourselves on the back for being ‘the one’ or bemoan the unfairness of it all, but if we are willing to risk the fall out and step forward, we can find our self somewhere in the morass of complication.
So, it is for us to remember to take time for ourselves, to remember who we are, what we believe and how we choose to live. It is for us to make the time, take the break and remember that as far as we know, we only have one short go-round on this big rock hurtling through space and we need to seize every moment we can.
New Year, New Day, New Life – markers, holidays, expectations—as always, every day is a chance to make changes. Begin fresh. Live life. Make it yours.
Complications in life are the norm rather than the exception. Life itself is nothing more than one big, complicated, beautiful mess and I for one wouldn’t have it any other way.
“And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.”
From Desiderata, Max Ehrmann,
I expect that I will receive a few lumps of coal this year, but it does help keep the fires burning.
2015 has been a busy and productive year. Along with my duties at eSensual Books, trade shows, conferences and the general living of real life in two countries, I managed to release 2 new novels, Practical Research, part of the Research Series I am writing with Essemoh Teepee, and Amuse Bouche, a fun contemporary romance centered around my 2nd favorite thing--food.
The Second installment in the Research Series, Captivating Research has been completed and ready for a Valentines Day release and a non-fiction couples guide to intimacy, The Owner's Manual is well underway. It is a good thing I decided to not focus on writing this past year!
Now I am looking forward to the quiet darkness of winter and the serenity of the holiday season. A time to snuggle close to those you love, absorb the hush of magic in the air and dream of the possibilities for 2016.
It is with this thought of peace and love that I wish you the happiest of holidays and much joy in the coming year. Hug and kiss and be kind. Tell those special people in your life that you love them and when the sky is black and the wind is making your eyes water, take a moment to look up at the glittering stars and remember to Believe in the Magic of Christmas.
My two favorite things, food and passion. A life long foodie, I have always written a lot of food porn into my erotica. Life holds many pleasures and as the holidays approach and we share food and friendship with those we love, take time to experience all the sensual delights of the season.
Amuse Bouche is available now.
To excite the taste buds, to tickle the palate. Amuse Bouche translated means 'happy mouth.'
When Francesca Maria D'Allesandro takes her cooking skills to a cable television show, she never dreamed she would end up working with an arrogant, boorish--but very hot, bad boy chef who wants to spice up their ratings.
Combining food and sex has been the gateway to pleasure since the beginning of time and the increasing sexual tension between the bickering pair of TV chefs encourages their viewers to send in some sexy stories and recipes of their own, creating a hotbed of sensuality in their new, late night time-slot.
Will Rick and Francesca find a way beyond their differences and make their on screen pairing work? Will the very success they seek be their final undoing?
Chock full of intimate viewer stories, complete recipes, and food descriptions that will arouse your senses and make your mouth water, Amuse Bouche is a feast of food and passion that will have you asking for seconds.
Enjoy this recipe from Amuse Bouche for the Holidays:
Bitter Chocolate Cake with Raspberry Coulis
8 ounces bittersweet (not unsweetened) or semisweet chocolate, chopped
1 1/4 sticks unsalted butter, cut into pieces
4 large eggs, separated
2/3 cup sugar
3 ½ tablespoons all- purpose flour
Preheat oven to 325°F. Line bottom of 9-inch-diameter cake pan with 2-inch-high sides with waxed paper. Butter sides of pan and paper. Dust pan with flour. Melt chocolate and butter in top of double boiler over simmering water, stirring until smooth. Cool slightly.
Whisk yolks and sugar in large bowl until pale yellow. Mix in flour, then chocolate mixture. Using electric mixer, beat whites in another bowl until stiff but not dry. Fold into chocolate mixture. Pour batter into prepared pan. Bake until toothpick inserted into center comes out with only a few moist crumbs attached, about 25 minutes. Cool completely in pan on rack. Serve with Raspberry Coulis.
1 (10-oz) package frozen raspberries in syrup
2 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice, or to taste
Purée raspberries with syrup, sugar, and lemon juice in a blender or food processor. Pour mixture through a fine sieve into a bowl, pressing on solids.
May use 2 ½ cups fresh raspberries and adjust sugar to ¼ cup.
Pour raspberry coulis over slices of cake and top with a dollop of whipped cream. I recommend serving with a sweet, sparkling after-dinner wine.
As The Iron Lady, Margaret Thatcher would have said—there is no alternative! Sometimes we reach a crossroads in our life where the choices we have are no longer viable and we must commit to making the impossible, possible. We must create new choices, find new ways around the proverbial mountain.
Another, a favorite Zen saying, ‘Let go or be dragged.’ Do we just stop, give in-- know when it is time or is it simply a way to relieve the burden? So do we move forward with renewed determination or step back and admit defeat?
The path to growth, success—to yourself, can be a lonely road to travel. The naysayers, the mini-doomsday prophets, the odds, always the odds. And why the internal drive, the need, the intense desire… Is the often twisted path of life is a mere test of moral fortitude? Are we part of a bigger picture? Will the consequences of our actions reverberate through time somehow changing the course of the world—perhaps not, but like a stone thrown into the pond the circles expand and multiply and affect those around us then those around them, ever widening in an endless expansion of effect.
I believe in trusting your gut. Intuition. The still small voice. It has served me well over the years and kept me out of some potentially tricky situations. How many times have we said, “I knew it, if only I would have…” or “ I really think I should” then we don’t and are disappointed.
Like any other learning process we must make repeated mistakes, hone our intuition and then risk it again each time, however, the more we use it, the better it works for us. As I like to tell our eSensual listeners, Practice, practice, practice!
As for me, my gut is adamant. My voice is speaking. My desire is strong and I will not be dragged. Plans change, goals are realigned, often our vision is cloudy and although I may not be sure of the exact outcome, I do believe it will all lead me where I need to be.
I can see the horizon, the ranges of mountains still to climb and although “there” keeps moving forward each time I draw near, I will continue the journey with new determination. There simply is no alternative.
Happy Release Day!
It has been a long time coming, but I hope it is well worth the wait. Practical Research, the first in the Research Series of novels I have penned with Essemoh Teepee, has gone live today. It is always a magical moment to see new work become available.
What took so long, you ask? Well, first, there is the actual writing of the novel. Which as some of you know can go fairly quickly on some days and not so fast on others. Then there is the dynamic of writing with a partner. My first time, so Essemoh gets the ‘partner’ cherry ;-) A ‘seat of the pants’ writer or pantser, I do not normally do an outline for my stories, but in this case it was important to know the direction we were heading, so we could prepare for what the other was sending next. The research – one of my favorite parts of the process can also take some time especially if one gets distracted …What do you mean Pinterest is not the best spot to learn about…
Covers, blurbs, TOC, epub files, promo and of course, the dreaded editing! You would think with two working on the process it would go quicker, but not always the case. And you know the old adage; ‘you never have a second chance to make a first impression.’ Thankfully Essemoh is a little more patient than I, and very persuasive when it comes to getting it right.
The good news is that the second in the series; Captivating Research is already completed and ready for editing and the third installment: Academic Research is in progress.
The Research Series is a humorous sexy look at a very unconventional romance that twists some obvious clichés. Join the adventure of Callista, her beloved Professor-Anbu, Bruna,the sexy voodoo priestess and the ever affable Chad as they see just how much trouble they can get into in the name of pleasure.
Enjoy an excerpt from Practical Research here:
Callista pounded on Chad’s door for the third time. She hated to use her key in case he had company. She dug through her purse looking for her phone to call him and then remembered that she only had the new one Anbu gave her. That is so weird, making me give up my phone, what could the purpose be? I understand he needs me to be close by so living at his place will be convenient, as well as luxurious, but what is it with the phone and controlling who I speak with and when? He is paying me really well, but it’s not like he owns me!
Dropping the useless phone back in her bag, she unlocked her apartment and began to get her affairs in order. All her finances were manageable online and Chad would take care of her plants and mail. She wouldn’t have time to sub-let, but Anbu had said he was taking care of the rent. She really should dump the place. She sent off a few emails to friends telling them she had an internship out of the country and would have limited Internet access. Why am I lying?
She called her parents, they were thrilled she had an opportunity to work with the esteemed Professor Anbarasan Dahl; of course they weren’t privy to the project details. Although they were disappointed she wouldn’t be home for the summer, they knew it would further her career. She promised to write to them at least once, all of them knowing it was an empty promise she had made many times before.
She tried Chad again from the house phone and got no answer. She left a voicemail explaining she did not have her phone and to come over immediately. The day was slipping away and she sat with cup of tea staring at the empty suitcase wondering what she would take to Anbu’s. Sadly, she couldn’t seem to think of anything that seemed important to her. She shoved the case back under her bed, grabbed a photo of her with her parents at the lake and another of her and Chad dressed up for her friend’s medieval inspired wedding.
She put them in her Mary Poppins bag and went to take a shower.
Pulling her fuzzy robe around her, for once she was grateful her apartment was small and easy to keep warm. Maybe she would take the robe with her—and her favorite pillow. Slipping her arms in, she pulled it across her body.
“Jeez, Chad! You scared the crap out of me. Doesn’t anyone respect my privacy anymore?”
“Excuse me… I am not the one who left twelve SOS messages and, from Mrs. Weinstein’s complaints, been pounding on my door all day.”
“Oh, Chaddie,” Callista wrapped her arms around her friend and held on for dear life.” I’ve really done it this time.”
“Do tell! I know you didn’t come home last night…Mrs. Weinstein told me. I swear that woman is CIA trained! Did you get a little after school detention with the Professor? Please tell me Calli was a naughty girl?”
“Not exactly, how much time have you got?”
“Well, we have about an hour.”
“We’re going out. Dinner, drinks and then the ‘Bare as you Dare’ party”.
“The what as you …?”
“Just a bunch of good looking, sweaty men and women in very little clothing.”
“Please? What about all the museums and chick flicks you drag me to?” Callista had to agree with him there, and smiled at him as he went on. “It will be fun. You can let your hair down a little.”
“Oh, Chad, I’m afraid I’ve let more than my hair down.”
“Sure, whatever. Now, let’s see what you have to wear.”
“Not much,” she glanced at her new dress hanging on a hook in the corner.
“I wasn’t looking for you... What’s this?” he asked peeling up the plastic bag over the leather dress.
Callista smacked his hand, “Leave it, it’s a surprise. Now get out and let me dress, Oh and Chad be prepared to be dazzled.”
She peered into the mirror closer trying desperately to find herself there. The black leather corset top pushed her breasts up into mounds that made them seem much bigger and the snug short skirt was made of such soft and supple leather it clung to her hips like a second skin. She let her naturally thick hair go wild and free, letting it down just as both Anbu and Chad had said she should, knowing they both meant something entirely different.
“Who is this woman?” Callista wondered aloud and wiped a little of the scarlet stain from her lips.
“Holy shit, girl! You look hot.”
“Chad! Is it too much, should I change?”
“I think you already have. Almost makes we wish I was straight. Well, not really.”
Callista pulled at the skirt trying to hide the band of her stockings and smiled. It reminded her of just a few days ago when she had first met Anbu.
“You have that dreamy look, Calli—you are freaking me out. Where is my, ‘always got it together’ kinda girl?”
“Sometimes I just get tired of being in control, you know? Maybe I just want someone else to be in charge for a while.” Callista looked at Chad in an adorable sailor suit, his shorts just covering his bottom, the white knee socks vivid against his tanned legs and giggled. “Well, I guess I can manage to keep it together for one more night, c’mon girlie lets have some fun.”
Chad insisted they splurge and celebrate Callista’s new job. Dinner at Aziza on Geary was as good as they expected. Callista gave Chad the run down on what had happened so far and in his over the top way, he did little to quell the doubts racing through her head. The Cocktails were amazing and Chad kept ordering Wild Arugula’s to fuel the conversation.
“Just go for it, you might have fun. Besides you need the money and it’s a lot better than slinging hash for the summer.”
“I know but he just makes me feel so…”
“So, what—sexual? C’mon Calli, isn’t it about time you let go of the past. You’re going to dry up and become the cat lady.”
“No! I am not. I just want to be sure I don’t put myself in the line of fire. I don’t want to be hurt.”
“None of us do, but unless you give it a try how will you know. Sometimes it doesn’t work out as we plan and it sucks, sometimes were glad when it doesn’t work out, but when it does—oh, nothing is better.”
“Like you and Justin?”
“Well, let’s not go there. Tonight isn’t about me.”
“Why don’t you call him? Pride goeth…”
“We’ll see. Tonight we don’t worry about Boo Boo or Justin
“Anbu, Boo Boo whatever. What kind of name is that anyway?”
“His mother is from an island…” Chad held his hand up and stood.
“And no detailed information on anything—just fun. Like a bachelorette party or I know, well pretend it’s my 21st birthday.”
“Where are we going to find a time machine, Chaddie?” The mock hurt look he gave her made her laugh.
* * *
Callista was still laughing as they left the restaurant. Chad stepped off the curb and lifted his hand for a cab. Then he started to shake his bottom and try and lift the hem of his shorts even higher. A couple of taxis passed by, one even accelerating away.
“Chad!” she screamed, in a fit of giggles, “Stop it. The cabs will never stop for you like that.”
“Then you try, if you think you’re so smart!”
“If you’ve got it, flaunt it babe.” Callista stepped off the curb and handed Chad her jacket. She spread her stance wide and slowly raised her arm, inadvertently lifting the hem of her already short skirt, even higher. The screeching tires of the next taxi could be heard for blocks as the driver pulled to a smoking stop in front of Callista.
“And that’s how it’s done, my friend.” She said before sauntering to the door. The cab driver ogled her and nodded in appreciation before she slid in the back seat.