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.

Licks!

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!!!

Licks!

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….

Licks!

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!