Saturday, April 27, 2013

Wind in White Birch - Issue # 17

Hello all! My name is V.L. Locey.  I am a self-published and traditionally published author that lives in the mountains of Pennsylvania with my husband of over twenty-one years, my seventeen year old daughter, a herd of dairy goats, chickens, geese, ducks, turkeys, two dogs, two cats, and a partridge in a pear tree. For more info about me and contact links, check out the author bio tab up above.

Enough about me, let`s get back to Wind in White Birch and our lovers Jonah and Dana.

Wind in White Birch


V.L. Locey

Issue Seventeen


“Rhett, please, just stop being so nasty about this,” I snapped, chugging through Clairton on Friday afternoon. We passed closed stores and restaurants, many boarded up years ago. “It`s not like you`ll be at G-G Helen`s for months or anything! It`ll just be a couple hours and then Jonah and I will pick you up when we`re done dinner.”

“I hate Grandma`s house. It stinks!” he pouted, arms tightly folded over his chest. His bottom lip dangled down so far it was tickling his chin. “I want to go with you and Jonah!”

I inhaled through my nose as we crept up to a red light. “Rhett,” I said with all the patience I could muster. He had been miserable since I picked him up at school with his bag packed. For the life of me I could not understand why he was throwing himself like he was. It`s not like I hadn`t told him days ago of our plans. He was fine with the few hours we had laid out for dinner. The whole weekend was slated for family fun. What the hell more did the child want?! “You`re not coming with us,” I said yet again, my fingers curled tightly around the steering wheel. “Jonah and I would like a few hours alone.”

I pulled up to the curb in front of my grandmother`s narrow box of a house. There were no driveways. You parked along State Street and prayed your car didn`t get rear-ended by the steady stream of tractor trailers. I barely had the Toyota in park before my son was out, closing the door in my stunned face and stalking up the skinny walk to his great-grandmother`s house. I counted to one hundred and sixteen before I went inside. The ambiance was about as you would expect. My grandmother was sitting in her chair, her mouth slightly open and her eyes wide behind her bifocals.

“What`s the matter with him?” she asked. A door slammed upstairs. The house smelled of fried foods and moth balls. I turned sideways to squeeze around the coffee table and sit on the sofa.

“He`s upset about me taking a few hours of time away from him and Jonah,” I hypothesized. I really had no clue what was eating the boy. I looked up the narrow stairwell. Maybe someone had bullied him today. He was the sort of tiny, gangly boy that bullies were attracted to.

“He`ll get over it or he won`t,” she sagely said, her chair gently pushing her to her slippered feet. “You used to be the same way. Do you think he wants some skinny potatoes?”

I rolled my eyes. Yes, that was the Zajac way. Have a problem? Eat. Have a cold? Eat. Have a boil on your ass? Eat! Eat! And put some sour cream on that.

God, skinny potatoes sounded good. I could almost hear the thin slices of potato hitting the hot grease. I shook my head to dispel the erotic carbohydrate addiction. I stood up. I had about an hour to get back home and get ready for the arrival of an erotic Seneca addiction.

“I`m sure he would love some,” I walked to the kitchen. She was already digging potatoes out of the bin in her fridge. “I have to go. We`ll be here no later than ten.”

“Ten? That`s pretty late,” she muttered, inspecting a spud the exact same color as her hair.
“I don`t turn into a pumpkin until midnight, remember?” I smiled. She glanced over the top of her glasses at me. “Thanks for watching him. I don`t want Rhick and Jonah anywhere near each other if I can avoid it. ”

“Rhick needs to be run over by a trash truck.”

Ah, there`s that sweet, feminine Zajac love. Don`t it just warm your cockles?

“Yeah, he does,” I agreed.


I was doing the pantyhose dance when someone pounded on my door.

“Just a minute!” I shouted my knees tight against each other and my toes pointing inward. I was late. I knew stopping at the drug store would do this. I bounced around my bedroom, tugging and wriggling until the damned nude things got over my hips. I stood beside my dresser panting like a plow horse that had just finished cultivating the bottom forty. I tugged my old ratty robe on and ran to the door. Blowing out a breath while patting down my hair, I willed myself to appear unruffled. The door creaked open. I got very ruffled and all it took was a smile.

“Nice robe,” he said. I grinned then realized I had put my ratty robe on instead of my good robe.

“Pickled beet stains are all the rage in Paris this year,” I covered with, waving him in out of the cold. My heater kicked on. He stepped inside. I closed the door and turned around, wondering if I could somehow erase the image of this robe from his mind. He dropped his duffel bag, shook his long wool coat off his arms then turned to face me. My eyes couldn`t get enough of him.

 And I thought he looked good in jeans and flannel! I love a man in a suit, and this one fit him to sheer perfection. It was a dark smoky grey two-button that made his ebony hair and eyes seem that much darker. A black shirt with a red tie looked incredible with the smoky Mohair. The cut was classic and emphasized his broad shoulders and lean waist. My lips got dry from the gas heat.

“Damn,” rolled out of my mouth. One side of his mouth ticked upward. He took a step towards me then stopped.

“You better go get dressed,” he said, “I remember what happens when I get your back against that door.”

“We have reservations,” I muttered.

“I figured we would,” he said, reaching up to gather his long hair into a ponytail.

“One kiss wouldn`t make us late,” I whispered, my fingers itching to get inside his suit. “Leave it down.”

“Yeah, it would,” he said dropping his hair per my wishes, “Because when I get you in my arms, it won`t be just one kiss.”


“Yeah, oh.” He winked. It was a real internal battle but I skirted around him then tripped into my bedroom, closing the door on him. Once the latch clicked I blew out a long steadying breath.

I glanced at the two dresses lying over the bedspread. One was a short-sleeved red that was very nice and had been to a few dinner parties when Rhick and I were still married. The other was a secret purchase made on my ‘Extreme Emergency-Only Visa’ two days ago. It was an irresistible turquoise shift under a matching flouncy outer sheering and came to the top of my knees. It was sleeveless and gathered behind the neck. I had seen it in Betty`s Boutique across from the book store and had to have it. I could have paid my rent next month with what I spent on the racy little thing, and that was with a twenty percent discount from Betty.

I thought of Jonah in that suit and my saliva-filled reaction to him. If we were only getting these few hours, I might as well do my best to make the man remember me when he was all alone in that damned lodge of his. Maybe he`d come around more often if he saw me dressed to impress.

Fifteen minutes later I floated out of my bedroom. Jonah had seated himself on the sofa, a magazine about independent presses and authors in his hands. I stopped when his dark eyes lifted from the article he was perusing. I knew I had chosen wisely when the periodical slid from his long fingers to the couch unheeded.

“You look sexy as hell,” the man said, his eyes caressing every inch of exposed flesh.

“Thank you kindly, Mister Big Deer,” I glowed, lifting out the sides of my dress to drop into a curtsy.
Oh yes, this dress was worth every lunch I would skip for the next month. 


Friday, April 26, 2013

Butterfly Kisses-Finale

Butterfly Kisses: Finale
 Cathy Brockman
Storytime Trysts does not own this photo

Party night got here much faster than I would have liked. I wish I had more time to get to know the imp whose name by the way is Ivan. Obediah has avoided me like the plaque. Oh well I guess if he is happy being a drone to the queen when he could be my prince then more power to him. I don’t need a man than doesn’t want to be with me.
I really don’t want to just pick a man like I’m shopping for clothes. It just doesn't feel right, but mom isn’t giving me the time to go traditional and fall in love. I told her I would choose a mate tonight, I never said anything about setting a wedding date. Perhaps I can buy some time and get to know this prospective mate. If things don’t work out mom can always throw another party for me to choose again. She loves throwing parties.
As usual mom went all out and the party was spectacular. There were fairy lights everywhere twinkling in the dark like millions of tiny stars. Being out in the courtyard garden there wasn't a need for a lot of decoration since the garden was beautiful enough with all the fragrant blooms and the fountains flowing. There were several large buffet tables set up with a variety of foods for all tastes. There were vegan tables, vegetarian tables and a table with meats and cheeses for the carnivores. Something for everyone.
It seems as if everyone in Fae has come to the festivities. Not only was there a smorgasbord of food and drink but a smorgasbord of men. And that one was meant especially for me. I guess the other ladies of Fae were waiting in the sidelines to choose from the leftovers. The funny thing was I still didn't want to choose. I would rather fate choose for me but I guess that wasn't going to happen.
Since Obediah made it perfectly clear he had no interest in being one of the chosen, I narrowed my sights down to Draecon the dragonfly prince and possibly Faelord the firefly prince for the first part of the evening. It didn't take long for me to realize there was no way in Fae I could live with Faelord. The man was just way too flamboyant for me. I finally got away from  him.
Draecon bored me to sleep with all his tales of battles and the like. I just don’t see me in his dark kingdom watching him practice sword fighting and all his jujitsu, boxing and gladiator games. I’m not the violent type or the outdoorsy active type either.
I’m more creative and colorful and nature friendly. I like sunning in the sand, and have recently discovered I like fishing. Well I don’t like to fish. But I enjoyed watching a certain sexy Imp fish and tell me stories of hiking in the woods, bird watching and life in the woods. An Imp that didn't show up, which is probably good.
 If I was to choose an Imp my mom would split a wing. But she never said I had to choose an insect Faery, her words and I quote were ‘LaRae, it’s time you choose a mate, this weekend at the end of the ball you will give me your choice from the suitors in attendance, and I will make the announcement.’ Nowhere did she specify species.
I had hoped that Ivan would show bu, no such luck. I had not figured as much since he let me know he wasn't a party type person nor did he like crowds or big fancy galas. I didn't tell him about the big reason mom was throwing the party. Mainly I didn't want him to know that I was choosing a man like most people choose food or clothing, second I didn't want to think that the only reason he came was a chance to marry into the royal family. If he came it was to spend time with me, to meet my family and friends and no other agenda. I didn't figure in just a few days he would be interested in me enough to come meet my family since he told me he was too shy and just didn't do crowds.
The night was half over and I had no clue as to what to do. I felt like just running away. I was avoiding mom all I could. I slipped off to the back of the garden to a big patch of toadstools near a small cascading fountain. There sitting on a toadstool skipping pebbles in the small stream was Ivan.
My heart skipped a beat. He came. Even though he made it clear he even had panic attacks around a lot of people, here he is. Does that mean he likes me? I take a deep breath.
“Hi Imp.”
His eyes light up as he takes in my long, flowing, fuchsia dress that has a seashell bodice. His broad smile sends goose bumps all over me. What is it about this man that just revs my engines?
“G’d  Evnin’ Faery. You look lovely.” He grins impishly as his eyes rake over my body, he folds his large hands across his lap but I already noticed what he was trying to hide.
But does he just lust after me or does he like me? Will he run like a rabbit when I tell him the real reason for the party and that he is at the top of my list?
“Ivan I need to ask you a couple questions”
“Okay.” He goes back to tossing pebbles.
“Why did you come here tonight?”
“You invited me.” Plop, plop, goes the pebbles.
“You said you probably wouldn't come that you don’t like crowds or parties.”
He turns to look at me. Even in the pale moonlight I can see the glimmer in his gorgeous forest green eyes.
“No I don’t, but I like you.” Then like a slight whisper of wind, “I missed you.”
“Ivan, do you like me as a friend or would you be interested in more.”
“More as in what?” he keeps his gaze on my eyes. I can see how nervous he is and I can just feel a pull between us.
I tell him why mom has thrown the party. I tell him I like him a lot and want to get to know him more.
He smiles at me and nods. I take him by the hand.
“Would you like to go meet my mom?”
He slowly stands and nods again.
I swallow hard as we walk through the crowd. We stop at the buffet tables and I encourage Ivan to eat a little. I grab a cup of honey wine. I need a bit of liquid encouragement to face mom. I approach the Dias and mom looks up at me hopefully.
“Well LaRae, have you made a choice or do I get the honor.” She has a smug look on her face.
“Ivan, this is my Mother, queen of the butterfly faeries, Mom this is Ivan, my mate.”

Not the end, but a new beginning!

I hope you enjoyed My Faery tale. We had a blast writing it. If you missed the first episode you can find it here 
Chapter 2 here!

Chapter 3here 

Join us in May for Kiss of Fate our prequel to Love Bites and see the budding romance of Nicolai a prominent heir of a large plantation and Illia a Wicca peasant girl. Two lovers from different stations in life and how fate intervenes.
 Be on the lookout for a big announcement at the end of this story!

Thursday, April 25, 2013

Bold New Moves

What happens when you start as friends? It's said that if you're friends first you'll be lovers for a lifetime.  Do you remember those initial flutter? That churning in your gut feeling, afraid the other person just isn't into you the same way? 

Storytime does not own rights to this photo. See stockphoto.

Bold New Moves
Ben Hannigan
I can’t do this.  I’m terrified, worried sick, my lungs are on fire, I can barely breathe. I watch as my hands shake and tremor, barely able to light my cigarette, the flickering flame blurring and sputtering into the wind. I keep swearing and my roll-up flutters to the floor and I almost fall scrabbling for it. The concrete cool against my skin contrasting against the blinding white pain flaring through my body as I crack my head on the table.

I hear an amused chuckle and I catch in the reflection on the steel table a look that makes my stomach do backflips, a smile so blinding it radiates through me. “BOLLOCKS” my mind screams as I realize my crush is, as always early. She smiles and flicks open a lighter she carries because I, her best friend smoke and effortlessly lights my dogeared scrag end scrounged from the floor.  For me as she orders my favorite drink from memory. I take a slow drag and start to calm though my heart is pounding, throbbing, the noise of my body echoing through my chest, over the buzzing of the air-con, over the crap bar music, even almost managing to cover up her voice.  She’s gorgeous!

I tear open the bag of crisps for us to pick at and blush, purring inwardly at each fleeting touch. We are talking about everything and nothing. I barely remember anything and yet… Yet I know her as she knows me; hopes, dreams, fears music taste, clothes and everything that makes us, well us.

And yet, she doesn’t know, she can’t know what my body and mind screams, what I desire and lust for, what I need and desire, what I am begging for each night in my single bed alone.

I mumble and blush and she asks me to speak up.  It takes me about half an hour or so it seems, the sweat pooling in my shirt as I finally get the courage to potentially destroy my relationship with my best friend. She pauses coughing in shock her eyes wide, as her heart pounds and I can see into her eyes she isn’t interested, I’m sure. I stutter blushing, grovelling my apologies. “I guess I better go.” I stand to leave pushing my chair into the table and turning away biting my lip to hold the tears a little, I move to walk away and I start heading to the door.

I’m outside swearing inside my head that I’ve blown it, starting the bike with a kick-start. Because I can vent my anger the bastard thing starts after three kicks, the engine roaring up into life, muffling my anger in smoke and sound.

As I swing my leg over the bike I hear the pannier unbuckling and I turn my head to see her slipping the helmet I bought for her use on.  She’s in her leather jacket and has her gloves on as normal. I heard the crackle of the intercom as the bike dropped slightly, her body pressed into mine. “Take me home, to our bed. Please, please tell me this is real. I couldn’t bear it if you were joking.”

My heart leaps, pounding as I opened the throttle and grinned. “My bunny.  Let’s go home.” I didn’t need the headset to hear the whoop of joy at my answer before she giggled as the bike powered through the tunnel, the front wheel flicked up with a dab of the clutch,  hearing that giggle that stopped my heart every time and feeling the familiar squeezing of her sliding her hand round my waist. I blushed, losing myself into joy and love as her hand slipped far lower than it ever had before, promising so much more than before, my world becoming so much more; more intense, more beautiful.

Wednesday, April 24, 2013

Love Amid the Azalea - Issue #4

Hello all! My name is V.L. Locey.  I am a self-published and traditionally published author that lives in the mountains of Pennsylvania with my husband of over twenty-one years, my seventeen year old daughter, a herd of dairy goats, chickens, geese, ducks, turkeys, two dogs, two cats, and a partridge in a pear tree. For more info about me and contact links, check out the author bio tab up above.

Today we`ll be wrapping up my M/M mini-series about new love blooming in a nursery. Just for a challenge for myself, I`m going to try to keep each issue under a thousand words, which should be daunting for Madame Wordy here.


Love Amid The Azaleas


V.L. Locey

Issue # 4


                “Walk with me,” I said, pushing from the Dodge`s sun-warmed front panel. Was I avoiding? Oh you bet your sweet balls I was! Bryan trudged along at my side as we slowly made the rounds of the immediate grounds. Winter had been unkind to the flowerbeds and trees. Mulching all the beds would take weeks, for the landscaping wasn`t confined to the mansion and it close environs. Mrs. Miller had acres of gardens laid out in striking patterns with lush foliage and flowers imported from every corner of the world. What she couldn`t winter over she fussed with in a greenhouse that made this nurseryman drool.
                “This woman either has too much time on her hands or she`s trying to rival the National Botanic Garden In Belgium,” Bryan commented as we stepped onto a roaming stone path that wound through some three hundred azalea bushes.
                “You`ve been?” I asked while taking mental notes of what this garden would need. Hands crammed into my front pockets, I ambled along, trying not to let my long legs trip me up every time Bryan`s bare forearm scrubbed against mine. He was hairy and natural, which which was a decided turn-on for me.
                “A few years ago,” he stopped to drop down and inspect a sad looking bush with a fat gnome sitting beside it. “This looks like bark scale,” he ran his finger over a white cottony mass on a fork in a branch. I crouched down beside him.
                “Yeah,” I exhaled, “I`ve been trying to save it with some horticultural oil but it`s not working. We`ll have to pull it out and destroy it before it spreads to the rest of them. So do you have family in Belgium?” I asked as I examined the bush closely.
                “No, my ex did. He was a pretty boy like you, only he had no interest whatsoever in plants aside from smoking them.”
                We both straightened. “So . . . you`re gay then?” I asked, although why I asked is beyond me.
                “What was your first clue? The way I`ve been pawing you, the kiss, the confession that I`ve wanted to feel your lips under mine, or the subtle way that I keep brushing against you?”
                I chuckled in a low, self-deprecating way, rubbing the back of my neck. “Okay, yes, I know you must think I`m a bit of a dullard.”
                “No, not a dullard, just maybe a bit overly cautious, but it`s cool. You`ve got a business to run and a professional decorum to uphold. I get it,” Bryan smiled stepping closer until our chests were so close sliding a slip of paper between us would have been tricky. His blue eyes were alive with wicked secrets that I suddenly had to unlock.
                I glanced at the mansion. All I could see was a corner of the eastern wing. Thankfully no windows or nosy rich bats peering out them. When I returned my sight to Bryan there was no mistaking the question in his eyes. I replied in the only way that made sense to me at the moment. With both hands I grabbed his head and jerked him flush against me then plundered his tempting mouth. It was the singular most unprofessional thing I had ever done. Visions of sexual harassment lawsuits nearly made me release him. Then his arms slid around my waist and he kissed me back with fire. How long we stood amid the azaleas I couldn’t say. When the kiss ended we both were breathless, hard, and trembling like newborn colts.
                “The burning question on my mind is what the hell is part two of this erotic employee training session if part one is that?” Bryan teased, his hands resting on my ass.
                “Hopefully it doesn`t involve litigators,” I said then tasted his mouth again.

Thankfully, it didn`t. It did involve a steak dinner that night, followed by a few beers, a Yankees game on the TV, and the most moving and life-altering sex either of us have ever had. That was three years ago and to this day whenever we`re at the Miller Estate on business, Bryan tugs me into the azalea garden for a memorial make-out session.

The End


I hope you enjoyed this tale of budding romance. I am a sucker for the happy ever after. *sighs*

Saturday, April 20, 2013

Wind in White Birch - Issue # 16

Hello all! My name is V.L. Locey.  I am a self-published and traditionally published author that lives in the mountains of Pennsylvania with my husband of over twenty-one years, my seventeen year old daughter, a herd of dairy goats, chickens, geese, ducks, turkeys, two dogs, two cats, and a partridge in a pear tree. For more info about me and contact links, check out the author bio tab up above.

Enough about me, let`s get back to Wind in White Birch and our lovers Jonah and Dana.

Wind in White Birch


V.L. Locey

Issue Sixteen


                Heating pads and Heavenly Hash work wonders. It had been a God awful day, made even worse by the blade-like stabs of my grandmother about my ‘So-Called-Relationship’ with Jonah. Lying on the couch, my belly cramp-free and full of ice cream, I stared at Sheldon explaining how to play rock, paper, scissors, lizard, Spock. Rhett was in his room sound asleep after a hot bath and a long story. I ran my left foot –fuzzy warm in a purple sock – over my right calf. I was too blasé to reach down to scratch the itch. The crocheted blanket over my legs and torso was arranged perfectly. The TV was set on the perfect volume with the perfect show to make me forget my increasing misgivings.
I know how terrible this long distance thing Jonah and I are trying to have looks to others. It doesn`t look too good to me either at the moment, to be frank. Maybe I should have kindly declined when he suggested this. How can you build a relationship when you never see each other? I swallowed more ice cream.
For all her gruff ways, I know my grandmother is just trying to protect me. I am and always will be her little Pee-Pee. I mean, this is the woman that used to rap on the bathroom door to check that I hadn`t drowned in the tub when I was seventeen. She had suffered with me when Rhick and I had split. Now, here I was, putting all my hope into another man who seemed to want to spend more time on his career than on me. I crammed another spoonful of ice cream into my mouth.
 Maybe I should start playing for the other team. At least if I were a lesbian I would understand what was going on in the other person`s head. I had no clue why Jonah wanted to try to make us work when he knew that damned lodge would ruin things. Another spoonful slid down my throat. Then the phone rang. I glared at it. I was so perfectly situated too. Not wanting it to wake Rhett I kicked off the afghan and lunged for the ringing nuisance. I said hello, my eyes locked on the carton of ice cream and spoon that had tumbled to the floor when I got up.
“Hey,” Jonah said. He sounded tired. I plopped back down; phone pinned between shoulder and ear, and patted around blindly searching for the spoon on the carpet.
“Hey,” I replied cautiously. Maybe I should start distancing myself now, that way when the inevitable happened, I wouldn`t be crushed too badly. I found the spoon, wiped it off on my pajama pants leg then scooped out another glob. All aboard the seven ten from Love Handle Junction! Woo-Woo! “How`s things?” I asked around a mouthful of ice cream.
“Good, exhausting, but good.” He exhaled as if he had dropped into a chair. “That lodge needs a lot of work, Dana. I`m conning my family into helping strip and re-varnish the wood floors this weekend,” he chuckled wearily.
“Oh,” I stared at Penny and Leonard, “That`s nice.” I heard him shuffling on the other end. Probably I just froze his ear solid. I hadn`t meant to sound so cold, honestly.
“Is there something – Shit, it`s Valentine`s Day this weekend, isn`t it?” he asked, although he obviously knew the answer. “Dana, I am so sorry. Look, why don`t I just push the floor off until next weekend?”
“No, don`t put your work aside for me. I`ll just go to the Moose with my grandmother and dance with Peter Robinson from McKeesport.”
Yuck. That was horribly catty even for a purported cougar. There was a long silence on both ends. We both said ‘I`m sorry’ at the same time, then we chuckled uncomfortably. I hurried to shovel in another heaping spoonful of marshmallow and chopped almond.
“Dana,” Jonah sighed. I could picture him squeezing the bridge of that wide nose of his. I wanted to cry. “Please, I know this is hard, and I probably deserved that for letting us slide to the back burner. I really want to see you. I`ll be down Friday night and we`ll go out. Make reservations at the fanciest place you can find.”
“I didn`t mean to be such a bitch,” I whimpered, my throat suddenly thick. “I understand that you need to get the lodge ready for spring. I really do,” I added because Logical Dana really did understand. “I`m scared of drifting apart if we don`t make time for us to be a priority, you know?”
“You`re right, and I agree. Dana, I know this sucks. I hate being up here knowing that you`re sitting there expecting me to be wooing you like a good suitor should.”
“Wooing would be nice,” I admitted, sliding my feet back under the blanket Aunt Zizzy had made many years ago. Her fingers were too bent and painful with arthritis to crochet anymore. I flicked my gaze from the well-washed afghan to the television. A commercial for laundry soap was on. “You`ll wear a suit and tie, right?”
A grumble rolled down from New York State. I had to smile.
“Yeah, sure, I said I would,” the man said. “Listen, not to sound pushy or anything, but do you think I could crash at your place after the wining and dining? I`ll sleep on the couch, I just don`t want to make that drive back up here alone after being with you all night. That`s like some sort of cruel and unusual punishment.”
“That`ll be fine,” I coolly responded, a flash of carnal excitement beginning to glow in the pit of my belly. “Will you stay all weekend?” I inquired, trying to sound as if it didn`t make two hills of beans to me one way or the other.
“Yeah, I`d like to. I mean, if it`s okay with you. We`ll set aside one weekend for just us every month, how does that sound?”
“That sounds really wonderful.” My toes curled up. “We can do some fun city stuff while you`re here.”
“I don`t care what we do, as long you`re happy. Bear with me here, babe, I`m trying to do this right.”
“Do you mean the lodge or our relationship?”
“Both,” he admitted candidly. “Fixing the lodge up, finding clients, that`s all pretty cut and dry. But man, this relationship thing is tough. I keep thinking I know what to do, and then I talk to you and I find out I`m screwing things up. You older women are hard to keep placated,” he teased. It was nice to be past the ugliness.
“Maybe this weekend you can work on learning how to make an older woman happy,” I said in a low, smoky voice that did not match my clothes or unwashed hair.
“Oh, I think I can figure out how to make a cougar purr.”
The phone slid from my shoulder into the ice cream tub on my lap.

Friday, April 19, 2013

Butterfly Kisses- Chapter 3

Butterfly Kisses 
Chapter 3
By Cathy Brockman
Storytime Trysts does not own this image

I study the reflection carefully. He certainly isn't drop dead gorgeous but there is something about him that sends thrills through my body.
The way he looks at me as if he has never seen a woman before, like he could just devour me. I’d be scared if I didn't know that imps were harmless. Imps can be scary to look at and the way they like to cause trouble is disconcerting but as far as I know they don’t eat people or insects. I should be safe. Besides, from the bulge in his tight trousers I am pretty sure eating me as dinner is the last thing on his mind.
He must not be all Imp since he isn't entirely ugly. He does have impish features, a prominent nose and big wide mouth that takes up most of his round face. He has large round eyes that are a deep forest green. His hair is a maple brown, a little long around his face and wavy. And he is built like a brick house. Long well defined arms, big hands, strong muscular build, yum.
I decide to have a bit of fun with him and slowly start to wash myself, bending forward, my butt in the air, as I slowly wash my legs, starting at my feet working up. I keep my gaze on the reflection and watch him as he seems to be in a trance watching me.
 I would worry that he was a statue if it wasn't for the light adjustments he makes shifting from foot to foot as if he is a bit uncomfortable. If he gets much more excited I’m afraid his pants will rip from the size of that bulge. I can’t help but wonder what he looks like naked. I've never seen a nude man and I really bet this one is impressive.
I finally decide to break the ice.
“Hello Imp.” I turn around quickly.
I can’t help but chuckle as he darts behind the tree then peeks back around.
“G’day Faery.” His voice is deep and masculine.
I could listen to him talk all day.
“Come join me. The water is cool.” I playfully take a hand full and let it slide down my damp body.
He studies me closely but stays behind the tree. Surely he isn’t afraid of me.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to intrude on your bath. I just came to fish.” The slight blush on his rugged cheeks is quite endearing.
I step onto the bank and swirl changing into a soft orange sheath instead of the barely there bikini I had on.
He steps out but stays close to the tree as if it’s some sort of refuge as he looks at me in intrigue.
“That’s cool how you can change your clothes like that.” He grins in fascination.
Oh yeah I can have a lot of fun with this one.
I finally coax him to sit and chat a bit. He is very nice.
I must intimidate men. He reminds me a bit of Obediah, shy and soft spoken. He answers my questions directly but doesn't offer much else. Getting him to open up is like pulling teeth.
We talk about the weather, the forest, and fishing. He really likes fishing. So I encourage him to teach me, not that I really want to learn to fish, but for some reason I find myself wanting to learn more about him. Especially the things that make him happy.
    I meet him back the next day and explain to him how my mother likes to meddle and tell him about the big party mom is throwing. I leave out the part where it is for me to choose a mate. I figure as shy as he is, that would definitely frighten him off. I leave still not sure whether or not he will show. Part of me hopes he does.
If you missed the first Episode you can find it here. 

Part 2 here 

Thursday, April 18, 2013

The Candle

 Laying in the darkness listening to the songbirds, I thought of the life and the loves, a new relationship bursting into life, the flames and intensity of fresh passion. . . 

(Storytime does not own copyrights to this image.)

The Candle
Ben Hannigan

The candle flickered as the two girls ate, lit at the start of the meal they shared.  It was an anniversary, the candle a dark, rich red, unscented; the flame licking at the air as they shared the wine. The venison rare and rich, the dark chocolate truffles melting on the tongue as they talked into the night, the kisses they shared tasting of the meal and each other. One smoking a pipe the other content with the wine as they talked, the candle pressed into service to light and relight the pipe as the flame still licked at the air.

Neither remembered who kissed who first but they both remember that hunger and that pull as they moved from the chairs to the bed. The fire that pulsed through them and that heady arousal, Louise’s body a healthy tan -- that of an outdoor girl -- contrasting beautifully with Lara’s in the candlelight. Her body a squiggle of cream on the dark bedspread, her lover grinning to herself as the black silk ties contrasted against her pale wrists. Once she was bound and under her control, Louise began the slow, languid, torturous movements she favoured, nipping and licking from neck to ankles before her mouth nipping, licking, sucking and starting to devour the younger girl as some sort of dessert. The sounds her treat was making; a mix of heady gasps, whimpers and begging howls. She saw that candle still licking at the air and grinned, her hand snaking out of the bed to remove the candle from the heavy brass candelabra.

During the Raising of the candle all Lara could see was this floating tongue of flame dancing across the air, nervous and unsure what was to happen she watched from her position bound on the bed. Louise slowly, gently leaning the candle forward and they both breathless with anticipation watched the bead of wax drip off the candle. Almost in slow motion the wax hanging in the air before it splashed onto the younger girls breast, the red wax spreading and oozing before hardening. The flash of heat and pain stinging and causing indrawn gasps and whimpers of shock and desire through her, almost begging for more as the second drop landed. Her back arching and writhing as her teasing lover slowly worked the wax lower leaving a trail of redness splashed across her bare white skin. The candle moving closer, lower and lower moving inextricably towards her wetness the candle had half burned down as Louise presented what she had decided would be the last drop of wax. Lara laid there, her back arched, staring into her lovers eyes as she watched that last drop slowly fall towards her clit. The wax landing on her lithe body and engulfing her in a fire, the warmth sucking her up and into an explosion of lust and desire, as the wax cooled it bound her clit tightly in a vice-like grip squeezing her as she shook and spasmed with lust; craving anything, more, a touch, a kiss, anything to keep this going. Her mewling howls had startled Louise who smartly jerked causing the flame to splutter and die before she dived into her lover’s body peeling the now solid wax from her skin the tugging sending shudders of pleasure through Lara as she calmed.

Grinning, she dove  into the girl’s wetness once more as she begged for more, leaving her clit bound and imprisoned in this waxy tightness. Crawling up her body Louise ground into her as Lara begged for more. She whimpered with need as Louise rode her, their wet slits sliding  across each other. Testing the candle and finding it cool to the touch,  she used her weight to hold the girl down.  She pushed her virgin rosebud onto the candle, working it into her, feeling her contract and beg to be untied, beg to be kissed, and beg to wrap her arms around the woman she loved. Once, twice, three times she rocked and bounced into Louise and gasped again, screaming for more before it ended and she went limp, pressing gentle kisses across Louise’s throat, losing herself into a shaking mess of desire.