Thursday, September 13, 2012

Update, Lookout, and Almost Apology

Alright, I know many of you have been wondering why I haven't been on Google+, Twitter, and Facebook as much lately.  Every time I peek around the corner into those little internet worlds, I hear your grumblings, questions, and see the pouty-pout faces.  I would apologize for my sudden disappearance except I am not going to.  :)

Instead, I thought I would stop in here and send a note out to the all my friends, readers, followers, circle buddies, etc., and try to explain what has been going on.  Quite simply, I have been writing.  I have been working on two stories simultaneously, which is not as easy as it sounds or I expected.  Hopefully they will both make it to the shelves by the end of this year with any luck, but I am not letting them go until they are right which is taking up an enormous amount of my time.

These stories are going to be a little different.  To those of you who have been reading what I have published since July and here on the blog, this is going to be a bit of shock.  Both stories are a bit of a departure from the erotica I have been writing lately.  These stories are more character driven rather than sex driven.  Why the change?  No real reason, both had started out as simple erotica ideas, but both developed into something more while I sat and outlined and came up with character sketches.  These characters have stories that transcend (maybe that's not the right word) the simple story lines and/or scenes I have been putting out.  Simply, (and maybe a little crazy ) both protagonists were unhappy with the idea of a ten to fifteen thousand word short story.  Both (that's two characters in my head!), wanted more real estate than the short story.  So, one is going to be a series and one is going to be however long it takes to get her to shut up - could be a novella could be a full blown hundred thousand words.

It may sound like I am complaining, but I'm not.  It's nice to actually get into writing a more complete story, something closer to the literary fiction that I love to read.  Don't get me wrong, I love the little smut stories I have been putting out there.  I think they have their place in the spectrum and I have enjoyed writing them and hearing what you have thought. But these two are going a little different direction.  Are they erotica?  I am fairly sure, at this point anyway, that they are.  Both have an arc that points them in that direction.  The series' arc is based on an erotic theme and the story line winds around it.

The second story is constantly evolving which is a whole new experience for me as a writer.  I have character sketches that are pretty solid and working, but the outline is constantly changing.  As soon as I get something written, a good two or three thousand words, something will happen in the story that alters the future and I have to change the outline to accommodate.  I have never had a story morph in such a way, but it's exciting and I like nothing better than typing away on it.

There it is, my explanation for my absence, my writer's note that is supposed to get me excused from all of the social media.  :)  I am still around if anyone needs me, just drop me a line or catch me, if you can, when I pop up here and there.  Until I come out of these two projects, please enjoy what I have written since the beginning of summer and remember, I miss you all as much as you miss me.

Friday, September 7, 2012

#brainscribble - Erotica (Expectation Pt. 1)

I hear my phone chime and casually pick it up.  It's a text message from him, five words: "I am on my way."  My heart immediately jumps in my chest.  I look around my place for anything that looks like it might need straightening.  There's still a coffee cup on the counter and a saucer from my breakfast.  That will have to be cleaned and put away.  The couch pillows are not straight but everything else looks neat.  I will have to double check the bedroom, I think.

I look down at myself, still un-showered, sitting on the couch in a t-shirt and panties,and reading through my Twitter and Facebook.  I am in an unacceptable state.

The clock says ten thirty.  My thoughts fly through the math, I might have twenty minutes, depending on when the text was sent.  I jump off the couch and dash to the bathroom.  Showering is a must.  He's going to want me clean, smelling of soap, and ready.

I slip under the spray of the water and immediately think of it.  It has been a long time, two weeks, too long,  I have missed it but have said nothing.  It is mine but not on my terms.  I am only a follower, a disciple of its heft and weight, a worshiper.

The water slips over my skin and I think of masturbating but know that it will not please him to find me already wet and wanting.  That is his delight, drenching me, bringing me to the very edge of total bliss, and then pushing me off, over, and letting me fall into moans of delight.  I am forbidden from starting without him but that doesn't stop me from wanting to.  I feel the rebellion well inside me.  So many instructions, so many expectations.  I will be punished if I disobey.

I slide my hands over my breasts, under the curves of them as the water runs along me.  I cannot stop thinking about it and I can feel the warmth spreading through me.

My fingers move down my belly.  Part of me wants to stop them but the other part, the part that has my heart racing and my breath coming faster and faster while I imagine it, is stronger.  I am no match for my own desire.  I want to come.  I am already wet just thinking about it, the way it will stand and throb, eager for my attention.  The way I will worship it with every part of me.  I can't help myself.  I have to do it, have to reach down and spread myself open, let the water trickle between my lips, run over my most sensitive parts of me.

I close my eyes and spread myself.  It feels so good.  I am tingling all over.  I see colors behind my eyes as my fingertip crosses the swollen nub and swirls around it, mixing my own juices with the splashing water.

I slip a finger into my mouth and slide my tongue around it.  I want it to be him.  I want suck him in, feel him fill my mouth, listen to the deep moan escape his lips while I kneel at the alter of his manhood. My knees go weak.  I press my hand against the shower wall to steady myself.  I can wait no longer.

My finger slides down and pushes into the darkness.  I bite my lip as every muscle inside me tenses.  I know that if I move, it will happen, the lightning will bolt through me and rattle every nerve.  I hold my breath and press the finger deeper.  The pleasure surges through me, washes over me.  I am flushed.  I can feel the redness in my cheeks.  My hips move forward and I shiver and softly moan.

I will be punished for my disobedience but I do not care.  The expectation was too much and I know I have even more to look forward to.

Wednesday, September 5, 2012

The Elizabeth Jacobson Series - A Paranormal Erotic/Urban Fantasy Thriller

The Elizabeth Jacobson Series - A Paranormal Erotic/Urban Fantasy Thriller

I have been getting a lot of questions and comments about the series over the last few days and I thought I would answer them here.

1. What is Paranormal Erotica?
Simply put, it's erotica that involves characters that are outside the "normal".  In the world the series is based in, vampires live among humans and have since the beginning of time.

2. The story has a lot of sex.
Yes it does.  I write a great deal of erotica and I thought the sex scenes in this book were fun - it adds a new element to the erotica.  The vampires in this series are much closer to human than in other worlds and universes that authors have created.  Mine have feelings, memories, etc. but they are considerably stronger physically and mentally due to the change.

3. What's it about?
 I have gotten four emails with this question or a slight variation.  The series follows the protagonist Elizabeth Jacobson who is, currently, an assassin - in both the human world and the vampire world.  She is just over a 150.

In Kansas City, where the beginning of the series is set, a hunter has been killing vampires by the truck load.  The local ruling council of vampires calls her in to "deal" with the situation.  The story moves on from there.

4. Do I plan to write more?  
Yes.  I have two parts finished and there will probably be four more, from what I can tell so far.

5. What is the title of the 2nd book? 
Ten Days of Death

6. Why is the second book more than the first?  
I priced the second book the way I did because it is considerably longer than the first book.  Simple as that.

Sunday, September 2, 2012

#brainscribble - Erotica (Tent Sex)

It's Saturday and the sky has been covered in gray clouds since breakfast.  The rain has been looming, daring us to go out, to attempt the hike up the mountain we planned yesterday.  We have both been watching it, looking up at the patches of sky between the giant trees that surround us, and then back at each other wondering silently what the other thinks of the chances.

I am packing up breakfast when the first drops start to fall.  They plink on the frying pan in my hands and then start to thump around us everywhere.  I look over at you and you are already scrambling, grabbing the things we have had out since we arrived and moving them under cover.  The raindrops are those big ones, the ones that you can feel, four or five times bigger than normal, but they are falling slow, bombarding us.  They are the warning shots of what's ahead, the scouts splashing here and there, one lands on my arm and explodes with a thump.

Thunder rolls across the sky and echoes through the trees around us.  You are moving this way and that, dashing around our little plot grabbing the first thing your eyes fall on and deciding where to put it.  You are like a cartoon character, everything is in fast forward.

I finish washing the pan and dash to the tent just as the sky lets go.  You are still moving the coolers, and cups, and paper plates but it's too late, your shirt is already starting to stick to you, staring to outline the muscles of your back, the curves of your shoulders.  You look up at the sky and then at me sitting in the doorway of the tent.  You shrug and smile.  The rain is turning the air gray.  There is no wind but the sound is almost deafening.  You are soaked.  Your shirt has become gray cotton skin, clinging to every contour of you while the rain splashes what was dust a minute ago into mud around your tennis shoes.

You run for the tent and dive in leaving only your feet outside the little door.   You kick off your shoes and wriggle in while I close the tent flap behind you.  You giggle and the tones immediately disappear in thunder of the rain on the tent.  A little trail of water is already pooling from your clothes.  I sit beside you and push your hair away from your forehead.  We laugh.  There will be no hiking today.  We are prisoners in our little cloth home.

You sit up and I take your shirt off.  The cloth is heavy, it drips as I scrunch it my hands and lift it over your head revealing your true skin, the skin that is stretched tight over you, the skin that outlines the sculpture that is your body.  I let my eyes trail over you.  I love your body.

I toss the shirt beside the door and lay my hand on your chest.  I can feel your heat beating under the muscles.  A breeze passes around us.  It's almost cold on my wet clothes.  You shiver under my touch and wrap your arms around me, pulling me close to you.

We tumble back onto the tent floor and our lips meet.  The thunder rolls across the sky and I slip on top of you, lay my body on top of yours, press myself into you while our tongues dance between our mouths.

You slide your hands along my back and under my shirt.  I love the way it feels, your strong hands on me, they way you move them and then grip me, holding me against you, the muscles of your arms squeeze me.  I'm so tiny compared to you.

Another breeze slips through the tent windows.  My back is cold except where your skin touches me.  I am warm against you.  I reach my hand down the front of us, I can feel you pressing against me, that bulge between my thighs.  I slip my legs onto the tent floor and lay my hands on the mound at your waist.  You are pressing against the zipper of your damp blue jeans.  I can feel you throbbing between my fingers.  Warmth spreads through me.  I almost shiver the way it moves down my body, stopping between my legs.

Your fingers run across mine and then you are unbutton the fabric and pulling down the zipper. I jump in and start to pull them down.  You wiggle back and forth, the denim is soaked and fights us.  I laugh at the sight of us while you grunt and groan and I pull the denim and your boxers free.  There it is, big and thick and throbbing.

The rain is thundering against the tent, the air is rushing around us.  Everything smells like damp leaves, the beginnings of fall, a million memories.  I can feel the twigs and stones on my knees through the tent floor.  I love the way it feels, being outside, here, with you.  I strip my shirt and toss it away.  I wrap my fingers around the base of you.  Your skin is so hot.  I want it.  I lick my lips and lower them toward you.  Even among the rain and thunder, I hear you softly moan.