NaNo - Day 16

Yep - I'm behind.

Several days behind... lovely cold I've had. One of the ones where you are so disguising that you worry your snot will cover the keyboard and you can't type because of the tissue that you are constantly holding to your nose.

I'm behind - but I'm also in love.

In my previous life I was a project manager. There are all sorts of tools out there for managing products and I am now officially in love with Scrivener. I now am the proud owner of Scrivener 2.0 and spent the morning avoiding NaNo and moving two of my projects to it.

Yesterday was the key moment - I was writing a scene that takes place in a oak forest and having trouble imagining what it would look like. So, I went and found a picture I liked - saved it to the Scrivener background, moved to full screen, and made my page translucent - it was like writing on the forest. Everything was there - the light through the trees,  the mossy ground, the gentle rise to the ancient oak tree, and suddenly the words came and I wasn't frustrated with my lack of imagination.

My hope is by playing with my new toy... sorry tool... I'll be able to catch up. Besides keeping all my research materials and text in one place.

Yep - a geek in love. Such a sad sad thing.

Licks!

NaNoWri Mo – Day 4

If you are following you know there were no stats last night… because I suck!

No, actually there was a really good reason. My brain simply told me “Not today love, I’ve got a headache”. ;-)

But today is a new day! And I can’t let my Region down –

We moved from 14^th to 11^th and I can’t help but want us make it into the top 10. Little Portland Oregon is with the likes of Melbourne, Toronto, The Twin Cities, and Chi Town. At the top is “all of Germany” (way to stack the deck guys) Seattle, Holland & Belgium (can you say stacking!), and London. We may never catch them – but it is fun to watch the stats.

I am an obsessive stats watcher –

What I need to be is an obsessive writer.

But yesterday served a purpose of it’s own. I got to watch National Geographic’s 2008 documentary on new archeological research being done around Stonehenge and read more of Ellis Davidson’s book on Northern European myths and symbols. They both gave me some intriguing ideas that will filter down into my novel….

What I really need to do now is turn off all the distractions and keep writing - because the only way to get better at it is to keep doing it. 

That which we persist in doing becomes easier, not that the task itself has become easier, but that our ability to perform it has improved.

 Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803 - 1882)

Kind of like Sisyphus (image above) - I'm sure that boulder got easier as time went on.

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NaNoWriMo – Day 3

Not really how I expected to spend the morning…. But I suppose the bills have to be paid, the house picked up, not to mention garbage and recycling taken out... and yes phone call to the Mother. 

How incredibly mundane!

The plan today is the same – but I admit that there maybe a little wrinkle to my plan – it is absolutely gorgeous outside and I want to go out and play. 65 and sunny with a lovely brisk wind in November is amazing and not to be wasted.

Of course have Mac will travel…

Mmmm… that is a thought.  

I find it interesting that I can do the 3-Day Novel and write 10k a day and right now I’m struggling to write 3k. But then I’m not walking away from my life – rather writing and living at the same time – with all the interruptions that engenders.

Funny how life get in the way of art! Or smut!

But really, there are so many things to day to distract me, and they are things that actually need to get done. Okay, deep breath and onward…

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Day 2 Stats!!!

It was hard to finish the goals today since I’m also listening to returns… But my day is done!!!!!! Whoop!!!!!

So to the stats… 3,007 new words – 43,762 to go – 14.25% completed.

I have to say thank you to all my new friends at Rose City Romance Writers for their wonderful welcome today. I needed something good to happen and like magic they showed up and made my day.

Now back to the election returns….

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NaNoWriMo - Day 2

Started this morning with the edits I should have done last night on “The Song’s Ending” – but can’t complain since I’m almost one day up out of the starting gate.

So, Day 2 – the plan is to write until I’ve hit my 3k goal then I can run errands, get rid of the pumpkin that is growing a sparkly white beard, and clean the cat box. My poor cat! But the cause is good.

My plan is to take everything I’ve learned in the last year of writing and take it to the next level. The next level you ask? Well that is an interesting thing – what I want to do is write 5+ days week, 3k when I don’t work, 1.5k when I do (okay 1,667 for NaNoWriMo).

Not a bad idea – we’ll see if I succeed.

Oh, and once this is done I promise I’ll post more of Emma’s Erotic Sketches! Promise!!!

Licks! 

Stats - Day 1

Day 1 was a good day.

3,231 words written - 46,769 to go - 6.91% complete. 

FYI - this is novel only, not counting blogs or editing work. ;-)

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NaMoWriMo 2010

National Novel Writing Month has commenced… I know it is supposed to be all about writing a novel – but I’m working on one right now and rather than start a new one I’m going to work on finishing my rough draft.

NaMoWriMo is all about writing 50,000 words in 30 days.

Which breaks down to 1,666.666… words per day.

I probably need more that that to finish my story – but it will be a good push through to the middle – and I’m hoping to overshoot and finish it because I have two short stories that I want to write on spec for a couple of collections – they are due on the 15^th of Dec.

The day has not started out auspiciously – I received a very nice rejection and my quarterly revenue statement (which was pathetic – so if you happen to have purchased Hunting for Possibilities and have your statement I would love a copy of the statement – send to emma.greer at Comcast.net) so not a very happy note to start on.

But I didn’t start down this path thinking it was easy. Nothing worth having is easy. So, onward.

I’ll also be posting my trials and tribulations here! So you can all share the pain with me.

For those who are interested – I’ll be using Write or Die by Dr. Wicked and Scrivener by Literature and Latte. Scrivener has been a lifesaver – organizing and researching a novel is not like working on a novella and Scrivener is helping. If I publish this thing I’ll owe them both a debt of gratitude!!!

Into the Breach!

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Last Day of the 3 Quarter

And it sucks!

I had three short stories out on spec. All of which were supposed to have decision made before October 1st.

One: “The Bridge” the publisher pulled the plug on the project because…

“While many of the stories we received were incredibly well written, sexy and moving, we unfortunately didn't receive enough amazing stories to fill all seven books.”

So, “The Bridge” needs a new home, again.

Two: “The Rites”, didn’t make the cut but it was a long shot anyways. I dragged it down from a 4k story to a 3k story – which made it better in a lot of ways – nothing like severely limited word count to keep things tight – but there were many things that could have used more text to explain them. Sex and a complicated world both take time.

Three: “The Reunion” – haven’t heard yet but don’t imagine that is good… the editor on that project is usually very timely.

Hmmm… I’m starting to see a pattern in my naming conventions – but really I also have stories titled “Just His Mouth” and “3 AM” which break the mold… oh, and they need to find homes too.

This is the hard part that I don’t talk about here much. The grind that makes me doubt myself. Each of these stories was written for a specific collection on spec – and didn’t make it – then two were re-edited/written and sent out some place new where I hoped they would find a home.

Right now I’m in the process of redoing “Just His Mouth”, “3 AM”, “The Bridge” and “The Song’s Ending” all in the hope I can make them better, send them out into the world, and find homes for my orphans.

And don’t forget the novel I’m working on.

If the pain of these shorter pieces not finding homes is awful, just think how horrid the rejections on that are going to feel.

Okay, time to let the pain go… maybe do some yoga, have some breakfast, and get back to work. After all nothing worth having is easy… is it?

Licks!

Sometimes it is so hard!

I find it difficult to let go of my children.

I keep wanting to hang on for one more read thru, one more edit. Check one more word to make sure it is the right one. Play with the title one last time.

They are so vulnerable when they go off to the editors. Like delicate wisps of thought. Easily lost or misplaced.

Today I send off yet another short story into the grown up world. A slice of Hell.

I have a bit of a fascination with Hell and have a novel in the planning stages that I’ve wanted to write for several years. I just don’t feel I have the chops yet, but I’m getting them. This story is part of the path that will get me there.

Poor little thing.

Here’s hoping that it will be well received… and maybe I’ll drop one of the scenes I didn’t use into the blog… now there is a rather delicious thought!

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When Things Get Personal

Hopefully no one is actually counting blog posts.

If they are I should explain.

Something wondrous has entered my life, quietly on padded feet. Just as quietly he has turned my life upside down.

I don’t like to talk about it.

I’m afraid rather than my brutal honesty you are stuck with poetic glances that side step the truth of the situation.

The blog has fallen on hard times. I know I’ve been away a lot. It’s been difficult to keep my tone light and breezy. For several months I couldn’t write abot sex… that was awkward. Then I could but I didn’t want to as I watched my private life filter into my writing.

It used to do that all the time – I’d pull from my dates, my lovers, my relationships – but now I didn’t want to. It felt like a betrayal of a trust.

Every man I’ve dated since I started writing erotica has known what they were getting into. All were curious… Some even dated me because of it…

This was different.

I’ve met someone who took the time to know me. He didn’t assume or create an idealized image that only vaguely resembled me. He didn’t pick the parts he liked and try to change those he didn’t. He lets me be nothing more, nothing less than myself. I hope I do the same.

We aren’t perfect, my love and I, but we are honest.

That’s where I’ve been. What I’ve been up to and the journey I’ve embarked on.

If, like my friend Jeff, you are worried about me walking away from the sex – don’t! I’ve found my balance again and as we speak am working on a piece that takes place in Hell. And another about a man who equates women to flowers… he like the orchids best. I just had to push myself farther into my imagination rather than culling straight from my life. It took awhile.

I’ve also started my first full length novel. We’ll see how it goes.

For now, thank you for not deserting me, all the best!

Licks!

Countdown!

The 3-Day Novel Contest is almost upon us.

Last year was the first year I participated and it was one of the most amazing experiences of my creative life. I’m wise enough to know that this year will be different – but I still want to try. Get the house clean, the kitchen stocked, and get ready to hunker down and write for 72 hours and produce a novel.

But before I can do that… I need to finish the final draft of the new short story – pleasure, pain, torment, women in leather, and a very bad man. And get a first draft of the rewrite of The Turquoise Box – which has taken on a life of its own and is making me worried.

Oh, and research… must get research for the 3-Day Novel story…. Sigh!

11 day 9 hours 50 minutes and counting…

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Back up!

Thanks to my wonderful editor at Ravenous Romance – I am back up and Hunting for Possibilities is once again available on the site.

After the hack it took nearly three days to get the site up, and another week to stabilize it (although there are still some bumps). I’ve never been one for S&M – I admit I like my bondage lite – but I would love to get the folks responsible for this little act of vandalism into the dungeon of my mind and see just how creative I could get.

Oh, well… I’ll have to leave that as one of my fantasies since the to-do list is simply too long.

Currently still working on the story about a Djinn, a girl, and a box (sounds like the beginning of a bad joke) but just think about the possibilities of a lover made of smokeless fire.

Hmmm…

Or rather ummm…

Licks!

Still on a Reading kick…

I think research is a writer’s best procrastination tool.
At least I can’t think of anything more fun than curling up with some of my new favorite authors.

I will, however, have to expand my mythological/paranormal research beyond the realm of the internet since I just saw one of my “borrowed” characters – a demon named Raum – in someone else’s book.

Sigh, it is such a small wiki-world.

Research is a girl’s best friend, right after her vibrator, and her imagination.

I’ve been reading and reading, and I’m fascinated by the growing trend of Urban Fantasy books that are tied to a specific geography. Storm Born and Thorn Queen take place in Arizona, The Graywalker Series by Kat Richardson and the  Succubus Blues series by Richelle Mead take place in Seattle, Vicki Pettersson’s Sign of the Zodiac are in the city of sin Las Vegas and Devon Monk’s Allie Beckstrom stories take place in another version of my home town… Portland, Oregon.

I’ve started all the series but I haven’t caught up with all of them yet – and some are much better structured than the others (Mead’s Storm Born/Thorn Queen and Richardson’s Poltergeist are among the best plotted that I’ve read so far). What I love about them all is their use of place and the richness of their descriptions.

Oh, and the fact that there isn’t a whiny woman among them. Damaged yes, but survivors.

You gotta love that!

I should probably get back to the actual writing part of the program today. It is so tempting to curl up with the cat and a book…

Oh, and Erastes has inspired me to get my library on Goodreads… so you can find my bookshelves there but it is a work in progress.

And, since we are catching up, Ravenous Romance is back on line, however I don’t appear to exist yet but I’m hoping they will have the website back to 100% soon.

If you didn’t hear… they were maliciously hacked over the weekend. Haven’t yet heard why they were targeted but the attack was bad enough to take them down for three days. So, good thoughts out to all of them… and what I wouldn’t give for a little magic to punish the perpetrators… or maybe a nice kick though a doorway into to Hell.

Licks!

Oh, my lovelies!!!

It began as a tale of woe…

On Wednesday the 28th of July I received a quarterly statement for my story Hunting for Possibilities that I sold to Ravenous Romance back in March.

I didn’t know it had been published.

…and I’d sold a whopping 2 copies.

You can imagine my frustration and embarassment… the email had gone astray and I had no idea my poor paranormal erotic piece was sitting out there all alone.

I’ve been in sales and marketing too long to think that “if you build it they will come”.

So, I immediately posted the existence of the story on various blogs and social media tools, then wrote up a to-do list for marketing my story, and by Sunday evening – with the help of all of my friends and readers – was the #1 seller in the Fantastica category and #6 overall.

Thank you!

Thank you all!!!

But this is just the beginning. If you believe in me and love the stories I tell help keep the momentum going… nothing is as powerful as word of mouth.

I’ll have more information on publications, events, and flash fiction as they happen.

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Whoop!!!!! Hunting for Possibilities Published

Greetings lovely ones!

My first paranormal erotic short story has been published by Ravenous Romance!

Always hunting for her next fix, Ti spends her life feeding off the sexual energy of humanity, and nothing gives her a better fix than sex. Although she's sampled many different types of men, one type has always eluded her - the one who would be able to stay. While out hunting one night, her world is turned upside down when a sexy stranger provides her the feast of her life and the possibility of something more...

Escape to a world of danger and pleasure with Emma Greer's sizzling tale of succubus love and lust!

You can find the story here
 
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The Myth of Great Virgin Sex

Okay – nough now!

As I’ve done research on moving my erotica writing into the universe of romantic erotic writing there are a few themes that make me want to commit seppuku. The one that is driving me insane at the moment is the virgin who has great sex.

On what planet?

Who, really, has great mind-blowing sex the first time out of the gates? No fumbling, no discomfort, or suddenly wondering what all the fuss is about? Oh yes…. And they have orgasms. Not one but many…

How I would like to have lived in that world.

My mother gave me the best advice “Find someone fun for your first time.” She told me that sex was funny, silly, and just a bit ludicrous at times. Taking it too seriously was a death sentence. Have fun!

My first sex was all those things. Very ludicrous, with silly moments (like me at 5 nothing and him at 6 foot 4 in a single bed), and it was funny. At least we thought it was funny that things didn’t work and it took us awhile to get everything right.

I treasure those memories.

More than some of the great sex that came after. There is something fun about discovering your own body, figuring out what makes it tick, and I wouldn’t give up the fumbling for all the great sex in the world.

Good stories are often built more on what goes wrong than right.

So, dear Muses please make them let the cliché of great virgin sex go!!!

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Ex – Experiments

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Aren’t those just nine of the worst words in the English language? Sigh!

Let me state for the record that I’m not good at being friends with ex-lovers. It takes a lot of work and sometimes it simply isn’t possible.

I also like to separate my romantic life from my work life.

Okay – you can start laughing now. I know, I know, I write about sex, talk about sex, and sex is my job. But, grow up, just because I talk about sex with you doesn’t mean I want to have sex with you.

If I want to have sex with you… trust me you’d know.

But back to my story.

Last year a friend and I had a long discussion about whether we could be friends with our ex-lovers. Neither of us have a history of this and the few women we knew who did this tended to beat themselves up when the ex became someone else’s lover. I’ve never really thought about the fact that I just end things and move on.

So the question became, was there value in reconnecting with an ex?

(Sorry that sounds so Sex in the City…. Forgive me)

A few days later, curled up with a cocktail and my cell phone I decided to give it a try. I sent a text to several ex’s and waited to see what happened. There were a whopping three that I had kept phone numbers for so not exactly a huge sample size. Like I mentioned I tend not to keep in touch. 

• One had a happy ending – I got the apology and the closure that I never got before. Oh, how good that would have felt four years ago.
• One had a yo-yo ending – it went something like this: Let’s be friend, I can’t be friends, Let’s be friends, I can’t be friends…
• One created an interlude – we reconnected for awhile

On the whole, not a bad experiment, but then I left out the crazies, the stalkers, and the pathetic-sex-guys. Except my yo-yo. Him I’m having issues with… but apparently this is my fault.

Sigh!

I opened a door and assumptions were made about why I opened it. The fact that it was just an experiment was known only to me. Men are really simple creatures… at least most of them…. Or so I’m told.

So, here is me closing the door… and moving on.

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Sex and the Single Vampire

Sigh…

I’ve spent the better part of the last month reading all the paranormal and urban fantasy I can get my hands on. Which is a lot. And I have to say… wow!

Some of it is soooo ummy.

However, you will hear nothing but dislike for shiny sparkly vampires – so don’t get me started. I also wonder at the lack of depth of the sex scenes in the first Sookie books – but then I have very high standards. For sex – and for stories of things that go bump in the night.

I have a dirty little secret.

I love horror flicks. And ghost stories. Early Stephen King. And M. R. James.

When I was younger, I broke my collarbone and ended up in a brace all summer. No swimming, no camp, no nothing for the gimp girl. So I did what any self respecting future writer does – I read.

…and read, and read.

Everything there was in the library that was about things that go bump in the night. Eventually this lead to many sleepless nights as I imagined all sorts of things in my room and beyond. Oh, but it was worth it.

Somehow sex and horror mix well.

But I was talking about sex and vampires… and yes, I did finally find a book that met my criteria.

1) not about teenagers
2) good sex scenes and
3) fun, exciting, engaging plot.

Also the main character Cat doesn’t act like a pushover, neurotic, wimp. She has her moments and I do feel in the third and fourth book there is too much reliance on her mental foibles for plot movement – but I forgive Jeaniene Frost because in the end I never felt cheated or disappointed.

Oh, and then there is Bones.

So if you are looking for something with sex, knives, and non-sparkly vampires give –





























And yes, I put them in order left to right!!!

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Changing Direction

Gentile Readers – I’ve been away.

I know shame on me. But, before you start throwing nipple clamps at me, it was for a good cause.

I started my first novel.

After all… what is a girl to do once she’s written a short stories and novellas? Isn’t a novel the next frontier?

With the last novella that I wrote my focus shifted. It became more about the story, the adventure, than about the sex. This is a big deal because I’ve always self identified as an erotica writer.

I think I may be becoming something else.

Don’t get me wrong – I love the sex. Thinking. Imagining. Writing. It is just that I found myself drawn to the fight and flight scenes, the moments between, and developing the characters on the sidelines that move the plot forward.

Anyway – so I’m moving into the realm of what is known as Paranormal Erotica and Urban Fantasy. Trust me – there will still be sex. My friend JC is very worried that there won’t be enough sex but I promised him there would be. But it will walk hand in hand with the plot rather than moving it forward on its own.

So forgive me my absence – a novel is a very serious undertaking – and if you can find it in your heart forgive me my desertion.

As always….

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WTF was I thinking?????

I’ve had the debate many times…
The first time I was 19 and it wasn’t a common practice but my lover at the time swore up and down that I would before too long.

I laughed at him.

I’m really a no-muss no-fuss kind of girl.

Although I’m not reconsidering my stance after (ahem) a decade or two, I’ve finally come across a lover who would prefer a less furry look.

Yes – I’m talking about my bush.

Every lover in the past either hadn’t commented or preferred me al natural. The preferred group felt that stripping off the hair would make me look pre-pubescent and they were into women not girls. (Oh, how that line was music to my ears.)

But this one, this lover, made a snide comment about the fur.

Ouch!

So I did something I haven’t done in years, I shaped it a little… Holy Hell!!! I have been itching and uncomfortable ever since. The blunt ends of my curls rubbing unpleasantly against some of the most sensitive skin I’ve got. A constant brush of sandpaper no matter what I ware or how I sit.

I’ve done bits before and the grow-out is a bitch.

I think “tough shit” is the line I’ll be taking this weekend. Having a lover may inspire me to many things but in the end I don’t do any of it for them – I do it for me.

My body is mine, inside, outside, and in-between – take it or leave it…

Licks!

Mmmm….

Nothing quite like it.

Waking!

Knowing that your lover isn’t there

Yet trapped within is the memory of when he was

Shiver of desire courses through you

Memory!
Feeling his hands on your body
His lips on yours
Rippling desire echoing
He pulls you close
And doesn’t let you go
Holding you
Enclosed within his arms
Feeling the warmth of him
…and the strength

Oh, yes…

Waking to the memory and yearning for more. More time to explore. More time to learn what our bodies can do together.

Progress…

At times I worry that I’ve been alone too long. Adjusting to another person is a process. When we were young we tended to jump in and drown in it thoughtless in our headlong pursuit of passion. Heedless in our search for lust. The joyous bubbly intoxicant that floods your system when you start to fall.

Now we are older, wiser or simply scarred. And my friend keep telling me to take it slow, keep my heart safe. Pace myself. At the same time my body is crying out for attention.

To know and be known.

Licks!

Greetings from Purgatory

Hello all!

I’m not really in purgatory, but it feels that way some times. What I’m really doing is writing, writing, writing… oh, yes, and more writing.

My plan for the summer involves several novellas and a plethora of short stories…

I haven’t been writing here much due to the weight of writing that is weighing me down but also because of an occurrence.

I can be a tough broad when I need to be, and I’ve rarely been frightened. But something happened that scared me.

I’m not used to being scared.

It was one of those dating things… I met someone and it slipped out that I write erotica. Now I like the look of desire in a man’s eyes as much as the next woman. But I prefer the desire be about me and not whatever porn video is playing in their head.

We’d only spoken half a dozen words and suddenly I see that light go on. And what I saw in that light scared me to death. The tipping point where it stops being about sex and becomes about power. I’ve never been forced but my gut said that given any sign of weakness this man would have me stripped and up against the wall whether I was interested or not.

I know there are women out there that enjoy playing with that type of fire – but apparently I’m not one of them.

Yes, I write about sex.

But for me sex is a conduit for intimacy, personally sex for sex’s sake just doesn’t get me off. I exited the situation as best I could and as quickly as I could. A part of me feels like a coward and another is just grateful that I don’t have to see this man ever again.

I’m hoping my giving this to all of you out there will clear my mind and unblock my creativity where this blog is concerned.

Thanks for hearing my confession…

Licks!

Before the first kiss…

That moment when a crush turns into lust…

The time before any action is taken. When anything is possible and you don’t yet know how his lips will taste, there is a moment of dizzying anticipation. The heart beats faster, your palms sweat just a little, and your eyes dilate.

All the lovely physical signs of arousal.

When I was younger I would spend hours imagining what that first moment would be like. As I got older I found that the most erotic relationships happened when I could not imagine what kissing a new lover would be like.

Unknown territory attracts me.

People I don’t yet know, things I haven’t yet done, lips I have yet to touch.

Yummm…

It’s been too long since I kissed him.

Time apart can make everything feel new again. So I have a fantasy.

He comes to my door, tired from his travels, weary. I step up to him taking his face in my hands, brushing my thumbs down the curve of his cheekbones, memorizing his face again. His hands wrap around my waist. Saying nothing we stand there, caught in the moment, building a memory. My heart does a jig in my chest as his hands move down to cup my bottom. Leaning in, we almost kiss, as he pulls me to him. But I extend the moment… brushing my fingertips across his lips… stalling… enjoying the anticipation… waiting for the next heartbeat before....

I’ve forgotten what it felt like. Memory is capricious at times and although there are images that I hold in my head that bring me joy, there are holes.

Holes that I’ll fill with actual moments… soon!

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The Power of Touch

This morning as I was lying in bed, waiting for the sun to come out, I was thinking about touch.

How I miss it.

I miss the feel of a warm body next to mine. That moment, in the early morning, when you wake and wonder if you should wake your lover too and just how much you can touch him before he stirs.

Fingertips tracing a line of neck…
Lips gently brushing a shoulder…
Hands roaming between the skin-warmed sheets and his warm skin…

I miss sitting with my lover in the cramped space of my chair-and-a-half, more than a chair but not quite a love seat. It forces intimacy: sitting hip to hip and shoulder to shoulder. Accidental touching, intentional stroking, kissing as the ottoman shifts away from the chair causing us to slowly sink to the floor.

Once on the floor, we give up the pretense of watching our movie or interest in the discussion we were having and begin talking with our hands.

Hands that touch, tease, torment and tear at clothing…
Hands that caress in ways words never can…
Lips that speak eloquently of desire and the promise of pleasure, without uttering a word…

Oh, yes… I miss touching and being touched.

Licks!

Working the Sex

Writing is work.

Sex is work.

Anyone who says that sex isn’t work isn’t doing it right. It takes attention to detail, to your partner’s responses, and focus. It also takes remembering what worked before and creativity for finding new ways to thrill them next.

The delightful thing about sex is the payoff and that you don’t do it alone.

Okay, there are some times but I’m not talking about them.

Writing takes attention to detail, memory, creativity and focus. The thing about writing is you have to do it alone.

Ever had one of those nights where either you or your lover was more “on” than the other? Or a lazy night where casual caresses blossomed into an exhilarating evening?

With sex, you have someone to play off of, someone to pick up the slack when you run out of steam. With writing you are simply alone playing mind games with yourself.

I could use one of those creative nights between the sheets. As usual my lover is away. Someday I’ll take a lover who doesn’t travel… no I won’t I like too many things about the leaving and the returning. Whether I am left alone or we take the trip together there is something about travel, time apart, time together, different places, different people…

Hmmm….but I was talking about wanting one of those nights.

A night to stir the creative juices and provide grist for the mill rather than mining the past would be pleasant. But until he returns I’ll struggle though writing sex without my muse.

Licks!

Aaaa Chooooo!

If I thought writing sex or about sex was hard when I wasn’t dating… it is miserable trying to write sex when I’m sick.

It started with allergies, then a cold, and this morning stomach flu.

I might as well put myself back in bed and forget about today. No one wants to be around someone oozing from every pore. I feel horrid and obscenely biological and not at all sexy.

Who can feel sexy when they feel like this?

I can’t imagine kissing me… and I really can’t expect anyone to. There is nothing romantic about illness, unless you’re in an opera. I never understood how the soprano’s died of Tuberculosis – which destroys your lungs – and sing those amazing arias right up to the moment they kick the bucket.

Yes, it would be nice if the world was more like opera or a Nora Ephron movie. Oh, to look as good as Meg Ryan in that scene from You’ve Got Mail when Tom Hanks visits her and she has a cold.

But it isn’t, and I look like death warmed over and feel even worse.

…and I’m running out of tissues.

Licks! (oooh ick!)

Reports from the Dating Scene – Part II

I’m never going to get to have sex again!

Okay – that isn’t true. I’m sure the latest guy would have loved to accommodate me except he killed himself off before the first date.

Who the fuck asks for a dress size?

Granted last night was St. Patrick’s Day and he probably was drinking but still...have just a bit more class.

What’s next? Cup size?

Admittedly sex is one of the major goals of this process. I understand that. But no way in Hell is anyone is going to get me in bed that way. Lust is all in the mind, chemistry is something undefined, so don’t rush let it seep into you, let it take root, give it time.

Then there was the guy who wanted me to give feedback on which of his profile pictures I liked best.

Insecure much?

Please, confidence is charming. Don’t expect me to pander to your vanity. It isn’t my job to make you feel better about yourself. Nor is it my job to help you sell yourself to other women. Ouch!

I just realized that often that is why we date for distraction and affirmation. Although I can’t think of a worse way to get affirmation than by dating since the failure rate is so high. Although as a numbers game it isn’t bad if you are going for quantity of partners. What a depressing thought!

Back to the grind…

Licks!

Reports from the Dating Scene – Part I

Yes, I’m single.

Yes, I’ve decided to start dating again.

Yes, this is a painful process not for the faint of heart. But I’d like to have a lover again… soon.

A friend said to me that there was no good or bad in life, only good stories and bad stories. The problem is that bad dates make better story fodder.

Take my first week of online dating.

My profile is a bit on the vague side – less information fewer assumptions and more mystery don’t you know. But I received an email from a cowboy who had decided that we were “searching for the same qualities” in a life partner. Since I state that I’m not looking for the love of my life where did he find this information I wonder.

I shouldn’t be cruel.

Dating is hard. Connecting with someone is fraught with dangerous pitfalls and ego damage. Dating is more like jumping from a plane without a parachute.

So why am I committing suicide?

Probably for the same reason everyone else is. They are looking for a connection, if only briefly to another human being.

Which brings us to the next trend I’m seeing.

The week starts out light and then as the weekend approaches the frequency of emails jumps but if I don’t commit to a date – coffee, dinner, drinks – by Friday afternoon I rarely hear from them again. So…are they looking for a date or a one-night-stand?

Mmmm…. Me thinks they have sex on their mind.

This is what occurred in week one – we will see what happens in week two.

I’d say “wish me luck,” but I’m not yet convinced I want to get lucky.

Licks!

Emma's Erotic Sketches - The Kiss

It was a good kiss, just tentative enough, with a blaze of passion behind it.

He had warmed her mouth with his lips, and pressed against her so that she could feel the length of him, hard against her stomach. She remembered being delighted by that, it was as unexpected as the kiss.

Naked under her dress, briefly she wondered what he would do if he discovered that. If he would be bold enough to dip his finger in the pooling juices that were coursing out of her. His hand brushed the curve of her breast and she felt her nipples jump.

And that was it… a perfect kiss. She had taken his phone and put her number in it and then left. The kiss was not in line with her reading of him. Bemused, she wanted time to think. Had she been wrong? He seemed so young and inexperienced. Yet that kiss.

She brushed her lips lightly with her fingers and wondered….

Emma Greer

Licks!

Shout it from the Roof Tops!!!!

Yes I did have sex, finally, but that isn’t issue at hand.

I sold a story!!!!

Always better than sex, well, unless it is really really amazing sex, but so much better than your run of the mill sex.

This story is different than anything I’ve published before. Hopefully it won’t give anyone the wiggins. Still lots of sex! No worries there.

Stay tuned to this station for updates!

Licks!

Memory…

Memory is the strangest thing.

I was in an airport the other day and glimpsed a man who reminded me of a former lover of mine. He appeared out of the corner of my eye and my heart jumped. It skittered into my brain and reminded me…

Suddenly I could smell him, taste his lips on mine, and feel the warmth of his body next to me. My body was taken wholly by the memory and I didn’t have a chance. I felt heat on my face and warmth between my legs.

When I looked again the resemblance was slight but something, how he moved, the turn of his head, caused the flood of sensation that coursed through my body leaving me breathing fast and weak kneed.

Oh, my!

This lover of mine made me breathless with a word. Just the sound of his voice was enough. Being with him was beyond earthly delights. Any time we are together we sparked and the flame was never far behind. It would burn – for hours, sometimes days, but we never stopped. We have locked ourselves in a hotel room and lost a whole weekend never once stepping outside.

It’s been a long time since that happened but in that moment, when I thought I saw him, it flooded back and I wanted him back.

We often what we can’t have.

It also made me realize, perversely, that I need to move on. Away from the memories and live again. I’ve spent too long living with ghosts.

Raise a glass to the present possibilities.

Licks!

Ewww…. Soft hands!

Okay, I admit I have issues.

But don’t we all?

I had a lover once that I adored but his touch made my skin crawl. Once I got over first contact I was fine… but those first few moments were touch and go.

“Why?” You ask.

“Because he had soft hands,” I answer.

It took everything I had the first time he touched me not to run screaming from the room. So imagine my horror when last night as I escaped into fantasy one of my favorite manly men on television stated, as an enticement, that he had soft hands.

Sorry Castle I’ll never be able to think of you in the same way. And Nathan, I want Mal back.

Shit! Can’t a girl have her fantasies?

There are several things about men that thrill me. I love what time does to them. The wear and tear of life on their faces makes my blood run hot. Don’t bother with the pretty boys – they got nothing on a man of experience. I want to know the person I’m with has lived life not just watched it pass or played it on a computer.

(Oh, yes… back to my thing about men who play video games.)

When I have more scars and rougher hands then the man I’m with…. Huston, we have a problem.

If the extent of your manly labors is playing with a joy stick and microwaving packaged meals…well…sorry…I want more. Not that I need an arctic explorer or a cowboy but I’d like someone who interacts with the world.

So no more soft hands please.

Slow hands. Strong hands. Sensitive hands. Those are a delight.

But soft and hands should never go together.

Licks!

Never Apologize, Never Explain…

Okay, maybe just this once.

My loyal readers I have left you the last several weeks with poor writing and few posts. Not for lack of fodder but because of a distraction.

Working on this novella has become all consuming. It is a genre I’ve never tried to write before, although I’ve certainly read enough of it, and I have become a little compulsive obsessive.

I lied, a lot obsessive.

I am completely preoccupied with this world I’ve created and the shower scene a friend helped me with. A shower all of us who love water and sex would love to play in. Really, this shower has crept into my dreams and made me realize just how much I miss sex in luxurious bathrooms.

The last time I was in Vegas I had the most delightful tub huge, wide and deep. You could fit two people in comfortably and three at a stretch. The spigot was in the middle and slightly recessed so as to prevent inadvertent damage to the bathers. Unfortunately it was a girl’s weekend. No chance for me to play in it and we always stick to the rule – no men in the room. Girl’s weekends are more about teasing and being unattainable than about anonymous sex.

Hmmm… but I did tell my lover all about the tub and everything I would do to him if he was with me.

There is something delightful about water and sex.

I had a lover once who always started our private parties with a shower. We would lather up and tease each other for hours both in the shower and out.

I digress.

I meant to apologize for being more involved in writing stories than writing posting. I will return – refreshed and rejuvenated.

Promise.

Licks!

The Nature of Romance

Between Valentine’s Day and working on a Romantic Erotic story I’ve been thinking about the nature of Romance.

Romance with a capital ‘R’.

What is Romantic as opposed to Erotic? Where does one end and another begin? Is there any difference? For some of us I have a feeling there isn’t. Our eroticism is completely wrapped up in the cloth of Romance.

I don’t find any Romance in Valentine’s Day and I let that slip to someone who does. He is a delightful man who is, at heart, quite the romantic and who follows all the rules: flowers on the first date, cards on holidays, chocolate for celebrations and to ease a hurt. It is lovely to be on the receiving end of such thoughtfulness and my thoughtlessness hurt us both.

Sigh…

But Romance? What is it? Is it just being thoughtful or just having someone who takes the time to get to know you? Is it all the trappings or is it the warmth of love and the dance we do as we fall?

I’m not sure I know.

There are so many images that we have of Romance: kissing in the rain, a picnic in front of a fire, a walk on the beach. But they are also images of intimacy.

So Romance is linked to intimacy…

But for me that puts us back to the Erotic.

For me there is nothing as erotic as intimacy – of knowing your lover and your lover knowing you. There is always more to discover. We never know someone wholly but the continual unfolding as we discover more and more about each other.

That is bliss.

Apparently I cannot separate the three, Romance, Erotic, and Intimacy. They all blend together for me; one bleeding into the other with no dividing lines. I have tried for one without the others and it doesn’t work. It is all entwined.

I will need to think further on this, finding stories that are romance without the erotic or intimacy, intimacy without romance or the erotic, and the erotic without romance or intimacy.

Licks!

If Masturbation is a Sin…

…I am so going to Hell!

This morning I woke with the most delicious fantasy in my head. Me, an old lover, some good music, and a lap dance that turned into a wild ride. Of course this then required a little assistance from the toys, which wait for just such occasions, in my bedside drawer.

It was a lovely way to wake up.

Sigh, these days it is my usual way of waking up.

Not having a lover means not being touched, kissed, fondled, held, licked… all things I miss so much. It also means no morning sex.

I do miss morning sex.

A former lover once asked how often I masturbate.

I thought deeply before I answered. Was this a trick question? Was he looking for a little titillation, imagining when and how I might masturbate, to spice up his days? Was he fishing for a better understanding of my sex drive worried that he wasn’t satisfying me, feeling that my desire for self-fulfillment might somehow be a comment on his abilities?

I took the middle road and averaged it explaining that it changed depending on if I was seeing him, writing erotica, or just having one of those days.

I haven’t had one of those days in awhile.

Those wonderful days where you wake with the itch just on the periphery of you vision. It grows as the day progresses and you feed it. Gently at first by how you walk, sit, and stand. You feed the thoughts that come keeping them fresh and alive in your head. Subtle changes occur. You are just slightly damp all day. Your voice takes on a richness that is usually reserved for the bedroom. In the end you are a walking erogenous zone. The slightest touch or shift of fabric makes you sigh with pleasure.

Walking through the halls you start looking at your coworkers in a new light. Wondering naughty thoughts and curious to know if they can sense your mood. You lick your lips when you shouldn’t wondering if the single guy down the hall would go for a quickie in the storage room but knowing that what you want is no quickie.

After all this, the teasing and fantasies, what you want is your lover and oodles of time. No rush. You want the burning feeling that tingles on the edge of your flesh to drop deep inside you, where only he can touch. You want to explore the chair, the table, the couch, the floor and maybe later… the bed. To be taken every way you ever have before and to try a few new things….

Yes, that is what you want after a day that starts with an itch and ends by burning through you until there is nothing left.

Mmmm…those are good days.

Licks!

Notes from a Passion Party

I arrived late. Bad me! Really late.

I’m not sure my hostess will forgive me.

But I was in time to ‘ooh and ahh’ over everyone’s purchases. They were able to take the potions and lotions home – the battery operated tows would be mailed. Sad, since all three of my friends wanted to go home and show off their purchases to their husbands.

I convinced them to continue the Girl’s Out theme and go for drinks with me.

Bad Emma!

The fun thing about these parties is that they loosen lips. Combine that with cocktails and you have the opportunity for some good stories.

I got lots of stories. Some I will never tell!

The thing that surprised me most was that all three of my friends purchased “Great Head”. None of them like providing oral sex much and this particular potion promised to make it a better experience. Apparently it suppresses the gag reflex and makes semen taste better.

Hmmm….

I found this intriguing and had to ask why, if they don’t enjoy providing oral sex, they all purchased this product. One said that she had spent so much money on toys for herself she felt she needed to get something that would please him.

I was a bit of a flip answer. I wondered if it was a dutiful wife thing… but really none of my friends strike me as the dutiful type.

When I dug deeper the real reason emerged. They enjoy receiving and felt they should provide as good as they get.

I wondered about this for several days because no lover had ever asked me to do anything that I didn’t enjoy doing. I’ve had lovers who didn’t like giving or receiving oral stimulation and when that was the case we just found other things to occupy ourselves with.

It’s amazing how much trouble you can get up to when you have to get really creative.

But to have something that I didn’t enjoy that they wanted… this was a new thought. I know, I know, it shouldn’t be – but it was.

I'm waiting for feedback to find out if "Great Head" did the trick, I elicited promises from everyone that they would share. Until then I'm curious....

Which side of the fence are you on? Like, dislike, or situational? Gals? Guys?

Licks!

Emma’s Erotic Sketches – Just His Mouth

The key card opened the door and it swung wide. They tumbled in all thoughts of dinner forgotten. In their desire she was slammed against the wall. They laughed. He stripped her of her top and began worshiping her nipples. His hands, rough from manual labor, scratched her skin. Sighing, she relaxed her head on the wall, releasing all control.

This was what she wanted, what she had been dreaming of, since their eyes locked in the lobby.

He continued down her body, laying his head on her stomach as he released her from her jeans. She had already kicked off her mules. Exploratory fingers found her moist and he looked up at her surprised, “You’re wet.”

“I’ve been wet since you smiled at me.” Her fingers entwined themselves in his hair.

“Mmmm…” was all he said as he buried his face in her mound and breathed deep of the warm seashell scent. He knelt before her, a suppliant.

She moved for him. Tilting her hips and hooking one leg over his shoulder. His mouth found her, warm and wet as he began to explore. She stopped thinking allowing herself the luxury of getting lost in sensation. His tongue teased the edges of her clit, tormenting her. Just when she thought he couldn’t stand any more he would move back to drink from the warm flow that continued to course through her. Back and forth he played with her as she sighed above him.

Teeth grazed her clit and she cried out. Hands reached out to support her ass as she leaned against the wall. She threw her other leg over his shoulder trapping his head between her thighs. She couldn’t get enough and pulled him to her, heels digging into his back forcing his face deeper into her mound.

She was so close; she thought she would die with pleasure.

He responded, gently at first by sucking her clit. As her thighs contracted he pulled harder. His fingers pulled her ass apart and buried themselves in her skin. She arched, her body begging him to finish her. He licked and sucked, sending ripples of pleasure though her. More elixir poured from her and he used his tongue to make sure he got every drop.

A low moan turned into a cry as she came but he didn’t stop. With each contraction he drank from her and kept her coming. Just as she thought she would lose the final shred of control and scream they tumbled to the floor. The scream caught in her throat and became a laugh. Joyously they crawled to each other. His mouth found hers and kissed her.

She tasted herself on his lips and smiled at the magic he could perform with just his mouth.

Emma Greer

Licks!

Sigh….

So many things to worry about…. 

• Is it the end of the G-Spot?
• Is my clitoris too small?
• Will I ever have sex that makes me pass out? La petite mort?

And on and on….

The days of keeping up with the Jones’ public life is past now I have to keep up with their private life as well. I’ve been doing research and to be honest it is making me cranky. Everyone is having more, better, bombastic, orgasmic, titillating sex than I am.

Waaaaaahhhh!

I may have to curl up with the warmth of my imagination and a few toys and see if that will make me feel better. The lovely thing about fantasies I can be anything and I can do anyone any way I can imagine.

The nice thing is if I come up with anything really sexy I promise to share.

Licks!

The Joy of Technology

Or… never having to hear “Not tonight dear” again.

We all know about sex dolls. Hell, Anais Nin wrote about them in Delta of Venus. In her story a ship’s crew contracts syphilis from their blowup fantasy doll…no sense of dramatic irony there. So sex dolls have been around awhile. And now they talk.

Introducing Roxxxy!

Roxxxy can talk and hold a conversation, comes with multiple personalities and will have sex with you when ever you please. No need to worry about those messy emotions or the complications of having an actual relationship.

For the low low price of $7,000

Remnants of Dr. Universe’s play pal, or the Stepford Wives, or April on Buffy. (Yes I do have a thing for the Whedonverse – don’t hold it against me)

The perfect woman!

And she’s built to be warm to the touch and has sensors in all the right places so that you have instant verbal confirmation that you are doing everything just right.

And yes – no more worries about finding a partner.

No fear of having to talk about things you don’t have any interest in. Roxxxy can be programmed for specific topics of interest to her man. No more uncomfortable silences after the woman in your life utters those magic words, “We need to talk”.

Yes, all the joy of a relationship without any of the mess predicable, dependable, programmable, as long as the batteries hold out.

You may be thinking that the price tag of $7,000 is steep but you need to think about it. First off it is cheaper than buying sex and safer. And buying sex can get very expensive… how much did Eliot Spitzer spend on sex, two to three thousand an hour? Wow that can add up fast.

And dating isn’t cheap either.

Imagine one date a week costing ~ $50 is $2,600 plus there travel costs and clothing and the gym membership. Besides a dating services alone can cost in the thousands per year. And all through this you may not even get them in bed – let alone get them to play out all your fantasies.

All in all this is quite a steal… no wonder 4,000 men have preordered Roxxxy and another 20,000 or so are looking at her.

Oh, and Roxxxy has a male counterpart - Rocky!!

Hmmm… sweetie, we need to talk.

Licks!

Emma’s Erotic Sketches - Taking Control

She loved this, the power it made her feel – feeling him expand under her touch – getting harder in her mouth. Slowly she traced her tongue around the edges of his cock’s head.

Not too fast.

Delaying.

Moisture pumped between her legs as she felt him stiffen further. Hand at his balls she stroked them feeling the dusting of hair, and the wrinkled surface of them, against her hand. Cupping them in her hand she continued working her tongue from base to tip in ticklish lines. He closed his eyes and relinquished control to her, her hands and mouth.

Her tongue found its way between his balls and to the ridge that ran down between his cheeks. She changed direction and kissed his inner thigh, gently, then back to the head of his cock. Rolling him over, she straddled him. Kissing, licking and biting the flesh of his ass.

She felt him begin to lose control. She stroked her nipples against the skin of his back her legs gripped his hips and she raised her hips and them brushing her bush between the cheeks of his ass.

She stretching her full length against his back she pulled his head around to kiss him. Pushing her hips into his she found his cock. Her firm hand surrounded him and began to pull rhythmically. He tried to push her off, to move her so he could bury his length in her, but she held him. Wrapping her legs through his and holding him down so that she could do as she wished with him.

The fight lost he succumbed with a sigh he let go and gave her what she wanted. Him coming in her hand, her body welded to his back and ass, and her mouth on his. Her tongue reveling in the coolness of his mouth as he came again and again until spent.

Emma Greer

Licks!

Mourning the Loss of the Strong Silent Type

I went out last night.

I went out like I do, dressed up (okay this is Portland so it is a relative term), on my own happily wandering the bars and clubs of my favorite city.

It was a Monday night so the music was good but the pickings were slim. And once again I was picked up by that new flavor of man – the sensitive-new-age-guy. Okay I admit it, I live in Portland one expects to run up against them every once in awhile, but what happened to the strong silent type?

I want a manly man!

Okay, so I want a manly man who knows the word feelings but not all the words to the song. Please, you’ve only just met me spare me what your therapist said and a rundown of the latest self help book you are reading. Those are right up there with ranting about your ex and how she screwed you.

Maybe I’m not ready to date yet.

I just want someone to buy me a drink and talk about the weather, or sports I don’t follow, or whatever their passion of the moment is. So long as the topic is a thing and not a feeling. Hell – we can talk about sex just stick to the facts and don’t tell me how it felt.

Is there something about me that engenders these conversations?

Maybe I should ask my former lovers and find out if there is something I am doing, a vibe that I am throwing out there, that leads to these awkward conversations.

That is interesting… the conversations aren’t awkward. One of my greatest gifts, so I’ve been told, is acceptance. I accept everyone for who they are – no judgment. Maybe my own tolerance for the human condition leaves me vulnerable to these situations.

It’s a thought.

But… please could I get a mix from now on? I’ll take the sensitive ones if I can also talk to the other flavors as well.

I like variety after all.

Licks!