Thursday, January 17, 2013

Of Crystal Glasses and Rich Red Velvet

The Artisan confectioner is at it again.  Ben Hannigan gives you his second installment to make your Valentine's Day steamier than ever.



When you came home from work there was a package waiting; impossibly black paper surrounding a box. Inside there was as usual a small card and two bottles. One small, barely a glass worth and the second was a large wine bottle. As before, a sample and the prize.

 

Each was identical in the shape and the label. Gently slicing open the note you see,

 

“This Wine, like our chocolate was selected by our team based both on the terms we were sent and the meal you have selected for your evening. Now To the wine itself; open your sample and relax as you study the bottle. We at Artisan hope it meets your approval.”

 

You sit curled up in your nightdress, sitting in the leather chair you adore so much with the glass in your hand as you stare at the bottle and the descriptive notes of style and tasting on the back.

 

“From the shape of this bottle, the slow swelling of a curve and the delicate adornment’s of label and band, this Wine aims to mimic the love of a good woman; delicate jewels not obstructing the luscious curves and the lines. Once poured, she is a rich, deep, mysterious red with scents of honey, cream, nutmeg and the slow heady smoke of the lightly charred oak cask.

 

Upon taking your first sip, you will be transported to the land of her birth, slowly sinking to a pool of bliss, the feel of her sliding into your mouth almost the gentle probing tongue of a lover, slowly she moves through you, around you, over you. This sensation of warmth engulfing all of you. The hot, wet warmth of her, that delicious tang of sharpness warning of her powers of seduction and befuddling the senses. She moves from toe to foot up your thigh until she reaches your centre, demanding yet gentle she is slow delicate, bursting in you a small giddy, heady explosion of flavours, of everything in her scent and more, this is our gift to you that will be a gift to share with your lover."

 

Yours,

 

The Artisan

Tuesday, January 15, 2013

Clubbing Nights



Clubbing Nights
By Eva Rayne


I hadn’t been sitting at the bar in the noisy club for very long when a tall, dark haired man walked up to me. 
“You’re too pretty to be here by yourself, darlin’,” he spoke, his words smooth as is coated with honey, even if they were cliché and made me want to laugh, “Are you here alone?” he asked when I just shook my head and didn’t respond.
“Yeah, I am,” I admitted, bringing my drink to my lips. The alcohol warmed my blood even if I hadn’t begun to feel its effect yet.
“Well then I think I’m going to have to fix that,” he finished what was left of his beer and set down hard on the counter. “Let’s dance,” he said reaching for my hand, I could smell the booze on his breath. I thought about it for a fraction of a second before nodding.
“Okay,” I agreed with a smile. I finished my drink before standing and taking his hand, letting him guide me out to the dance floor.

We hadn’t been on the floor long before he got brave, his hands holding my hips tightly as he pulled me close. I felt bolder myself as I continued to flirt, moving my body against his. Between the lights and all the bodies pressed close together, I could feel my body temperature rising rapidly, my light gauzy shirt clung to me.
“I’m Randy, by the way,” the tall stranger said huskily in my ear, grinding against me.
“I’m Monica,” I told him as he slid his hand up the side of my thigh up to the edge of my dark blue mini.
“Well, Monica, what do you say we go check out those bathroom’s in the back?” he asked, nibbling my neck. I could feel the growing bulge in his dark jeans.
“Lead the way,”

The club only had one bathroom and as soon as Randy had me inside and had the door locked, he pushed me up against the wall, kissing me almost violently. His hands began exploring my body, finding their way under my thin shirt in no time.  
He moaned as his large hands slid up my taunt tummy, finding my breasts incased in just a lace bra. I shivered under his touch as his fingers left a trail of electricity in their wake as he moved his assault from my mouth my neck where he kissed and sucked.
I ran my hands up his chest, making quick work of the buttons running down his shirt sliding it off his broad shoulders and down his arms. His chest was muscular and golden even though it was winter.
He pulled my shirt over my head, dropping it to join his. He made short work of my bra and brought his mouth down on my breast.
The next thing I knew we had finished stripping each other. His cock was large and hard as he stepped towards me. What followed was quiet possibly the best sex I had ever had.

Sunday, January 13, 2013

Author Spotlight: Interview with Abyrne Mostyn


Today I am interviewing my friend and fellow author Abyrne Mostyn. If you haven't read any of his works you need to!  Swingers was featured on Storytime last fall.  Before you dig into the archives, sit for a few minutes and hear what he has to say on his life as a writer.

Before setting things up for our interview I was in a two hour meeting that ran over.  Bear with me as I try not to be too frazzled.  I've spend the last two days minus the meeting reworking my most recent story -  again. Ever have those times when it just wasn't right? 
 
Absolutely. As a matter of fact it was just September or October when I literally torched my work in progress. Now, I kept the jump drive, I’m not stupid…but what I had wasn’t working and I couldn’t make it work so I took the hard copies, pitched them in the charcoal and lit. It was liberating in so many ways. I think it’s tantamount to the story you’re telling that you know when you’re just adding words instead of bringing it forward.

 

When did you first decide you wanted to be a writer?

I don’t think I actually decided, and I’m not sure that it is actually a ‘want’.  I am a storyteller.  I like the name Bard, Eclectic Bard.  I’m more of a word enthusiast and call myself that as well.  Writing is an outlet for the stories that run unchecked in my head most all the time.  The inner dialog about everything I’m doing, wanting to do, or never to do coming out.  I did ARC reviews for several authors and found that as I was reading their work and looking for the pieces that didn’t fit, needed completion or were wondrously well done, that I knew I could do this and create worlds with the same elements that I was checking.  I loved words and putting them together, writing became an outlet for something I already enjoyed.  Why now or why publish now would be a good question and I think it kicked back up several years ago when I began ‘method’ role-play for other authors.  Bringing characters to life and trying to create plausible stories for them between book releases as a means of marketing and promotion for writers I enjoyed or had reviewed and could emulate their writing style brought the passion back to putting words together and out in front of an audience.  I have had some great opportunities and met some incredible writers through this process.  Some of those writers are not out there published, but their work in the Role-play community is really outstanding.

Much of what I have written that is out there is from a long time ago and not work that I’m presently promoting or seeking audience for.  I think it was a trial run for this time or a future not yet embarked upon.  Swingers, an erotic short story is available in eBook format on Amazon, and its follow up The Red Queen, if all goes according to plan will be out in February this year.  Through the Oracle’s Mist is the big piece right now and again if all goes according to plan, it will be done by a publishing house sometime this year.  The platform is ready and I will present that in February for consideration.  Racing the Riptide is another work in progress that I have high hopes will be picked up and published, but that is not the current quest.

 
I've read Swingers, and a few teasers from Through the Oracle's Mist.  I like your style.  I enjoy the depth, the descriptives you use to convey the emotional punch.
To date what do you feel is your best work?  Why?

I don’t think my best work is out there.  I think that as a writer I’m still developing and growing.  I can make the stories I’ve written better at almost every turn, but as they stand they are pretty good as well.  I think that the story I want to tell, the one I hope to one day tell is still in me.  *smiles*  You’ll have to wait for it though,  because I’m not ready to tip my hand as to what that story is….but let’s just say that there’s a tale I dream of one day being good enough to emulate and bring out in my own fashion.  It would be the highlight of my time as a writer when I get there.  Until then, I’m just going to keep plugging away at the ones I’m telling now and work to be good enough one day to say I’m where I wanted to be.

 
I can absolutely relate to that.  I have a series planned in a different genre that I don't feel quite good enough to write well yet. I have a notebook filled with little snippets of ideas that I have for stories whether short stories or novels or even series.  It seems I am overrun with ideas, and can't seem to write fast enough to get them down on cyber paper.  Where do you get your ideas?

Idea generation for me comes from everything, but I think that’s an old skill coming out in a new way.  In college I was a competitive speaker.  I loved it, and made the national podium in Impromptu.  I think writing is a lot like impromptu speaking. In Impromptu, you get a topic or prompt and have a couple minutes to develop the topic into several presentable points, and then speak.  I would practice for this event by taking a newspaper headline or the first line of a song when I turned on the radio and then work to develop it into speaking points. Writing is the same for me.  You (I) get a prompt, a topic, a subject, a scene and you develop the idea into something else.  Whatever the idea is, I try to develop it into three or four points that I can then make a presentable story.  Sometimes the story develops far and wide of the original idea, but sometimes not.  It’s the same idea though that you expand the subject…so thus, the idea can be anything.  Rest assured you will never see me try to develop a story from the worst speech prompt I ever had to work with; Visine’s slogan “Gets the red out.”

 

Like I mentioned, sometimes I can't seem to write fast enough as the ideas are flowing. What is your idea flow like? Do you get one idea and stick with it to completion or does it seem that the more you work the faster your ideas come to you?

*laughing* In a pinch, if I’m hip deep in a section and an idea that is unrelated but will be vital later comes, I have been known to open a clean word doc and jot it down, but usually I add it to a running list in my planner. I am horrified to think that I might lose it in the throes of something else and so I have to jot it somewhere that I can locate it later and I’m notorious for losing scraps of things, so I cannot hope to keep ideas just anywhere.

If you knew how many half worked pieces I have sitting in the planner, half formed in a composition book somewhere in the stack, or on the computer you wouldn’t need to ask. If an idea hits I write it down, regardless of what I’m working on. It makes things take longer, but I think it’s like a tub with a half open drain when you write, you have to keep the little drops coming in or eventually there’s nothing left in the basin. I will eventually get to all of them, but not necessarily as they came to me. 
 
I think that when you immerse yourself in the writing that ideas are like rabbits. That’s the magic of writing. When I’m really working on something it seems like I have more vivid dreams and the ideas that have been playing along the fringe refine themselves and become clearer. Not so much that they come faster, my mind just seems to be more open to the possibilities and they become such that I can bring them out in some semblance of order or with less confusion.


 
Oh wow!  We are so alike in that vein. I like the analogy of the tub, I'll have to remeber that one. Yeah, it's embarassing how many partial projects I have.  Next topic, characters.   Do you use real people as your characters or do you completely make them up?  Describe your process.

I honestly think that there is a little bit of me in every character I bring to life.  There has to be as I stand in their shoes and write from their perspective.  Sometimes, someone else steps into the role in my mind and then I have to have a sense of them to be able to lend their voice to the character, but this is coincidental.  For instance, The Red Queen was not written for my friend Margaret, rather Margaret came to be TRQ in my mind as I wrote.  She passed away while I was writing Swingers and just seemed to step into the spot.  TRQ is not exclusively her, nor was she a model as I wrote, but rather TRQ became a tribute to her and many of the things I knew of her seemed to suffuse the character as she developed.  Other characters, the three-faced god of Amaranth for example, I have no idea where they came from or if there is anyone I can relate to in them, they are peripheral to the story being told so their development was circumstantial.

The process for any character I write though is essentially the same.  I want to have a good sense of them and all of their ‘faces’ before I start.  Once I know of a character I try to figure out how they look, but also their outlook.  What is their goal?  Are they essentially good, is there wiggle-room in their ethics and values, or are they the apple that ruins the bushel.  What do they think about when they shut off the lights and how do they think others see them.  In my mind I try to make them a literal person with likes, dislikes, wants, dreams, and desires.  Not just the goal I have for them in the story, but if I ran into them on the street what would I see?  Do they dress well?  Are they kind?  How do they speak?  How tall are they?  How do they smell?  What would I see if I looked into their soul?  I try to imagine the nicknames that their friends would give them and the slights of those who would begrudge them.  In general, I want to know every good, bad, dirty, nitty, gritty thing about them without making a laundry list.  Sometimes I will sit and stare and just wonder at them for hours trying to feel them in my mind to be able to write them.  I feel like I should not have to think too much at how they will behave in any circumstance, as I’m writing it should just come out because I know them intimately before I begin.

 In the character development, my daughter was taking a creative writing class and they made a list of their characters, then did a page on each. For example: Their biggest fears? Waht is their driving purpose? Then there were quirky questions like thier biggest turn on/ turn off. Favorite color, favorite foods, stuff like that. I utilized that exercise and take it a bit further. I sometimes figure out where they are willing to comprominse. Some people are given to lust, some to greed, others to drink or food. Have you ever put your characters through the grinder with questions of this sort?

I think I partially answered this in the do you use real people question, but yes I put every character through a ‘grinder’ of sorts. I want to know them inside and out before I start, and I use the character page on Writeway Pro to help me with that. I can add anything I want, but I can also print out a template of their stats and have them sitting in front of me when I write. I have a pretty clear vision of how they dress, how they speak, what they like or don’t and what
drives them when the story isn’t about them. I think you have to to be able to write the story or you will forever be stopping to think, what would they do? You should know before they are in that scenario.
 
 Who is/are your favorite author(s)?

There are so many…I could write a small novel of name after name.  Some that jump immediately to mind are Nelson DeMille, John Grisham, Michael Scott, Jules Verne, Edgar Allen Poe, Karen Marie Moning, Douglas Preston, and Lincoln Child.

 
Describe a typical writing session.  Do you have any rituals or good luck charms?  A certain snack?

Writing for me is generally done in complete seclusion with the door closed.  I write in total silence, no background music or ambient sounds, but I think that’s because I am usually talking as I write.  I like to hear the words spoken and have an auditory sense of how they fit and feel together.  I love to roll words around out loud and open myself up to how they make me feel as they are spoken.  I write with my thesaurus for this because I have found that as I’m speaking, sometimes words come out that sound and feel good in the flow but they don’t convey the emotion that I want for the passage and so I have to find another that fits better.  I will outline long before I write and usually know chapter by chapter what will happen as well as how many chapters there will be before a single word hits the page.  I write long hand first and then transcribe.  I like the feel of the pen in my hand as I script and feel like the act of the writing gives it a life that the keyboard cannot.  When I transcribe I prefer my desktop to the laptop.  The laptop is convenient, but the cursor is too sensitive and far too many times I have looked up to find that I’ve been typing along in the middle of another paragraph and it completely destroys my thought and flow.  You would be hard pressed to convince me that it is a coincidence that cursor has the same root as curse.

Perhaps the only ‘ritual’ is that I will tell myself the story several times over while doing other things; Sometimes out loud, sometimes just thinking through the passages before I ever sit down to write.  When I do sit down, the words come pretty quickly.  At this point if there is stagnation in the process it is because I don’t usually fit the connecting pieces together as I’m telling myself the tale and those are usually the last bits I write, mostly because to me they are hard.  The story in my mind is complete, but the readers will need the blanks filled in a little as they cannot read my mind.  ;)

Snacks?  No.  I take breaks to eat sometimes when I realize I need to, but I don’t eat while I’m working.  I have a coffee pot at the computer and a large mug that goes with me when I’m writing long hand away from my desk.

 
*Mentally running over my own rituals of having to have everything in just exactly the right stack or positiondown to turning my coaster exactly parallel with edge of desk *   Do you have a sense of audience or a reader when you are writing?

No, I really don’t.  I tell the story the way it makes sense to me, in the voice that makes it flow the best for me as the writer.  I find that in telling any story, until I get to “The End”….I have to keep answering the question, “And then what?”  JR Ward has a great series out called The Black Dagger Brotherhood.  I did a review of it several years ago and still laugh to tell people my favorite character is Vishous.  Why Vishous?  ..because, he is the consummate storyteller and has to have it just so before he can proceed.  He and I share this.  There is a scene in his book Lover Unbound where the thing that has been burning between him and Jane is going to happen and he is spelling out exactly what he’s going to do and exactly how and he stops and says, “Say to me now, ‘And then what V’?”  to which she responds wrong, and he stops and tells her, “No, start over and do it right this time….Say the words I want to hear.”  And finally, FINALLY when she responds with “And then what V?” does he continue.  Granted, most people reading that passage probably didn’t identify with the perfectionist dictate of it and how it translated to writing like I did…but my story, whatever the story is, is this same way for me as a writer as Vishous’ instructions to Jane….I have to answer the ‘And then what?’ and do it right before I can go to the next part.  I am the story’s first customer and so the writing is always for me.  Jane is the readership that will still get the ‘goods’, but I as the writer, like Vishous, I have to do it my way.



 As a big fan of JR Ward and of her Black Dagger Brotherhood series, there are reasons to like most of her characters.  I liked Vishous for different reasons, the perfectionist in him resounded too much with my own little idiosynchrasies and I could totally see myself in similar conversations with my children.  That's one of the criteria for me for authors I enjoy is if the characters feel real not forced or cardboard.  How do you flesh out a cardboard character?

*laughing* I cannot tell you how many times I’ve heard about the ‘other reasons’ people like Vishous. For me, his uncompromising dominant way was a perfect metaphor for how I see myself when I write. It is a ‘my way or the highway’ mentality while I’m creating, but one that serves me when trying to move the story. “And then what?” is literally in script above my writing wall in full view.

I’m not sure how you’re defining cardboard. To me, when you are developing a character you take them from one, to two, to three and four dimensional as you meet them and then get to know what makes them tick. I think being willing to sit back and let them reveal is important even if the one you end up with isn’t one you like. And by like, I mean they aren’t your favorite. It’s like there has to be the one you love to hate and sometimes they are the most multidimensional of all because they’ve gotten under your skin and you know them better just because you have to to keep them on track as they are.

As to the 'other reasons' *blushing here*  I am a woman after all. 
I love your description of that, we do tend to fully develop the one that irks us the most whether  the character was based on someone we know or characteristics of someone, or just proves to be a general pain in the arse.  What I  was thinking is actually a character that the author didn'ttake the time to develop.  They seem flat or one dimensional.  I've read some in the romance genre that I seriously wondered how they ever got published.  anyway, moving on.
How do you handle research?  Do you gather all data first or start writing while still gathering?

This depends widely on the story.  Sometimes the story being told is a complete farce.  A complete work of fiction and is based solely in my mind at the moment I’m writing.  Sometimes, like Through the Oracle’s Mist, there are components of history in them that require me to have not only passing knowledge but an understanding of the time I’m writing about.  In some cases I have written first and left underlines in places knowing I would need to do the research for a specific bit of information, in other cases I have jumped into the research first because the passage would have no merit to try to do it backwards.  I actually will research all the while I’m writing in some cases, and this is a very good thing.  A prime example would be in writing about the times of the Genpei war in Japan, I was referring to ‘geisha’ in several passages.  What I found while looking for something else for those same chapters was that for ‘saburuko’ or serving girls in the tea houses of Japan during this time, that those from the Kyoto region were not known as ‘geisha’ but as ‘geiko’.  Many would probably over look this for the sake of the story, but for me, it was technically wrong and had to be corrected as I was in fact referring to those from Kyoto.

I think this willingness to do the research and make the connections for the sake of the work make the story better.  So, in answer to the question posed…I think my answer is all of the above.  ;)

 

As a writer what would you say is your best skill?   What is your worst?

I think the ability to drive emotion is probably the best skill I have.  As a reader I want to feel a connection to what I read, so as I writer I work hard to make the work real and with emotional baggage be it joy, sorrow, grief, elation….whatever it is, I want the reader not to “read” that a character was, but to feel that a character is.  Some of this ties to character development and finding a way to convey them beyond the visceral to make them tangible.  I think this bonding between the reader and the character is what makes or breaks a story even if it’s poorly done.  A well written and developed character can take you past wording that doesn’t work for you and make you feel like you have to finish the tale where another story of the same caliber would get put down without this association.  I think that my altruism to the work and being willing to walk away or, as I did recently with Oracle, burn it because the connection wasn’t there is not a skill, but it is one of my better attributes as a writer.  Knowing I’m not happy with it, I’m not satisfied to continue on and hope it gets better, I can and will start over to tell the story as it should be told.

Worst, perfectionism.  This is true beyond writing and will plague me.  I can rewrite forever it seems and end up flinging mud as I spin in dreck.  I am hard to please as a writer and it makes things take longer.

 
What are the last three books you’ve read?

I’m always reading something, so the “last” three is hard….Three that I’ve read recently would be; The Landmark Thucydides. A comprehensive guide to the Peloponnesian war by Robert Strassler, Iced by Karen Marie Moning, and The Oracle.  The lost secrets and hidden message of Ancient Delphi by William Broad.

 
I would love to go to Key West and tour Hemingway's home.  Likewise, I'd love to go to England and tour Emily Bronte and Agatha Christie's homes. Is there a special writer's vacation you'd like to take?
 
I have never considered it really, but sitting here, I think I would like to stand in the Parthenon. I would like to visit the Acropolis, and I would like to stand on Mt. Parnassos at Delphi and just feel the energy there.  Not as a writer, but as a student of the world.  I would like to stand where the thinkers and the bards of long ago were, the places where the world seemed to carve from.  As a writer I would love to visit all the places I have dreamed to write about or written and see if they feel the same in real life as they do in tales.  I would like to sail the Hebrides, and float the Venice canals.  I think that the journey for me that would have the most influence would be the ones where I could stand and dream a new tale without the constraints of what it is now, but rather with the wonder at what was or what could be.

  
*daydreaming about sailing around the Hebrides, around the waters of Iona and Skye. Picturing a facsimile of one of the MacKeltars in a bulky cable sweater at the wheel*   ahem
Travel is one of my biggest desires.  So far I haven't managed to do much of it and I think it's about time I do.
What advice would you have for a new aspiring writer?

BEGIN.  Whatever you do or don’t do after that, Begin.  There is no ‘THE END’ without ‘In the beginning’.  I’ve talked to many folks who are trying to start and the question is always “How?”  The answer is, keep it simple.  Pick an image and describe it, take a word and make a conversation, choose a voice and write a monologue.  Can’t come up with it?  Try picking a character you love and write a story for them that hasn’t been told.  I am not advocating plagiarism here… I am saying tell the side you have never seen.  Choose a villain you love to hate and tell the love story that you’ve never heard.  Choose the good guy from the television show and write about his wild and rowdy night on the town.  Write something that you would never see for this character as it is completely against their nature as you know them.    Once you can do this then start coming up with your own characters and the stories that go with them, but don’t kill yourself and burn out before you get started trying to take on the 300 or 500 page novel from scratch with nothing else under your belt.  The 50 Shades of Grey series that came out recently by EL James started as fan fiction for Stephanie Meyer and her Twilight saga.  Does it seem like it’s the Vampires and Werewolves Meyer wrote?  I have no idea, I haven’t read them, but what I’m saying is that the idea developed by piggy-backing on something else that was out there.  My own work in progress is a piece that came about because I took a character that I role-play for another author and was writing a story to fill in between book releases and as it developed it became a completely different thing.  The character disappeared and a tale unfolded in ways that would have no place in the story that spurned it, but it was a place to jump off from.  We all need to find the end of the pier and jump into the deep end somewhere.  Just take a few laps in the kiddie pool first.

Writing isn’t re-inventing the wheel.  It’s finding new ways to tell the same stories we’ve been reading all along.  There aren’t a thousand new genres that come out every year….there are a thousand books though that do and they fall into the established genres.  And this is the next big step...  Once you can honestly put a string of words together to complete a thought, once you can take a mental image of a character and breathe life into them, you have to decide what they are going to do and this will determine the genre you write in.  Maybe there will be more than one, but probably best to start with just one.  And there is nothing wrong with starting small.  It’s like writing essays….in middle school they were a page, in high school we went from 3 to 5 to 10 pages and in college we went from 15 – to hundreds for thesis work.  Allow yourself the time to grow.  I would say to you, remember you have to crawl before you walk before you run.  And I would again remind you of Vishous, son of the Bloodletter from the Black Dagger Brotherhood and the side of the conversation with Jane in the bathroom that you likely didn’t catch if you’ve read it…. “And then what?”
Whatever path you take, remember that you have to start.  Dreaming is that voice inside telling you that there is something there but it can’t do it without you.  There’s magic in dreaming and stories too.  No matter how good the dream though you still have to get up and take up the pen to tell the tale or it is only ever a dream.  There’s a song out that is more an analogy for life, but the key line is an absolutely perfect observation statement for this….Natasha Beddingfield says, “Today is where your book begins, the rest is still unwritten.” 
I say, “You are the only one who can change that.”


Well there you have it, words from the Bard himself, Abyrne Mostyn.  Thank you for taking the time for our interview.  I can't wait to read The Red Queen.  If you'd like to read more from Abyrne you can check him out on here, or on any of these links! 

Swingers

Swingers,
 
Abyrne Mostyn Word Enthusiast

Abyrne's blog

AbyrneMostyn.com



 

Friday, January 11, 2013

Cupid's Arrow Part Two



Welcome back to all readers out there. I hope you enjoyed the first part to Cupid’s Arrow. Don’t forget this month is the Tantalizing Tryst giveaway.
~ © Misty Harvey 2013

Cupid’s Arrow

Part Two

It had been a week, and Caleb was no closer to getting Nora to fall in love than he had been the first day. The frustration was mounting as repeatedly his arrows missed their target. He’d never been particularly good at using a bow. Still though, even this record would embarrass a first time archer.


Caleb stood on the busy street of New York. His clothes clung to his body as the sky down poured. The accompanying wind caused his skin to speckle with goose flesh.


This job was beginning to grow more tiresome than even he had first imagined. His boss appeared next to him. A smug smile played at his lips.


“I thought you said you’d be done by now.” His voice lilted in delight. Caleb just grunted. He knew what he’d see if he turned to look at the man, so he stared straight ahead at Nora.


“Is there a reason you are here?” Caleb snapped back.


“Have you read the information I left you?” The man asked. Caleb shrugged.
“Enough of it to know her schedule.” He clipped out. Caleb followed Nora after she’d purchased her daily magazines. He could see the man nodding his head out of the corner of his eye.


“I forgot to mention that she must fall in love by Valentine’s Day. Your time is growing shorter.”


Caleb whipped around to give the aging man a piece of his mind, but he’d disappeared. If his calculations were correct, he’d have only a few more weeks to get her to fall in love. Gloom settled in somewhere in his chest. Nobody fell in love in a month. The only bright light at the end of this tunnel was he didn’t have to get her to fall in love exactly. He just had to shoot her with a Cupid’s Arrow and let the magic take over from there.


He snorted, sounded easy, but he’d learned in a week sounds were deceiving. Caleb watched Nora cross the busy road through a small opening. Just as he was about to step off the sidewalk the opening disappeared. Traffic was back to being bumper to bumper.


He’d bet his sweet bottom that if he had mile long sexy legs exposed in a business skirt traffic would stop for him too. That and if he wasn’t invisible to the outside world, that would probably help as well. Maybe even wings, all the depictions of chubby cherubs flying around named Cupid flashed in his memory. Not that he wanted to be chubby, nor wear a diaper. He threw out the last thought on wings.


Caleb shook his head seeing his opportunity to dart across the road. He’d seen Nora escape the pelting rain into a store. Now he just needed to catch up. His feet sank ankle deep into a large puddle of water. Not even the streets of New York could accommodate all the rain.


The sound of tires racing toward him brought his attention back. Caleb stepped back onto the sidewalk just as the large bus hit a pothole hidden by the puddle. Icy water poured over Caleb shortly robbing him of air.


A chill ran up his spine, causing him to shake. Water sprayed over the unsuspecting couple next to him. They turned glaring at the small dog that had stopped to examine a fire hydrant.


Maybe, just maybe Caleb had been wrong. Sometimes being invisible did have its advantages. He let the couple pass by, standing still as the dog sniffed around his feet. The acute scent of the dog detecting he stood there, even if his eyes would tell him there was nothing.


“Hey, you deserved it. There have been more than a few pocket pooches just like you that have taken to piddling on my shoes.” Caleb looked at the road again. He found another opening and ran for it.     


He entered the store searching for Nora among the racks. She was talking to a man down the suit aisle. Caleb shrugged thinking that man looked good enough to be Valentine. He lifted the bow, hinging another arrow. It sailed straight past the talking pair.


Caleb cringed, retreating down a nearby aisle. The arrow had hit a mark. Granted the mark wasn’t the one he intended, but that old couple looked like they could use some spice in their relationship. He smacked himself in the face.


This was quickly becoming a bad day for him. He grumbled as he appeared again. The old couple had disappeared somewhere else. Nora had gone back to searching the racks, and Caleb vowed shooting her with an arrow wasn’t going to happen.


His mind whirled around other ways to accomplish the goal. He’d tried every trick he could think of, but no matter what his arrows missed. A devious smile traced his lips.


Sure, he had to get Nora to fall in love. Yes, she needed to feel impassioned by one of Cupid’s arrows. Yet, never had he read in any of the damned manuals Devin insisted he go over, did it say she he had to use the bow.


A thrill ran through him. The plan was crazy, but it just might be crazy enough to work. He watched Nora taking her find to a register. Oh yes, she had no idea what was coming.


The plan had to work. This was his last case before he was free to continue his own life. The sooner he got it over with, the sooner he could be sipping whiskey on his yacht far away from here.

If you missed the first part to Cupid’s Arrow you can find it here. See you next week as Caleb exposes his plan.

Thursday, January 10, 2013

Passion of the Artisan Confectioner

Confection anyone? Check out our daily selection,but beware they are seductive! Give  a big, warm, welcome back to Ben Hannigan with his latest tryst.......


Passion of the Artisan Confectioner.


You, our client contacted us to craft a special custom selection of our wares.  You requested that the range follow several ideals and images and you gave us a series of adjectives to conform to. This is the first set of our designs, in the days following this packages arrival we will send a series of items, chocolates, candies, cigars, wine and other special creations from the mind of our designers.

The terms we were given can be summed up in the following terms:

The sensual erotic, the touch of a lover and the caress of someone who knows you utterly. The feel of their teeth against your neck, her pulse racing as she mewls, begging and pleading for your entering her. The pounding, scratching, biting, moaning, screaming as she drives you to your crescendo and release. Our aim is as always your desires fulfilled and to push not only your partner to the brink but yourself as well. Here in this package are the first four in our collection.



Ebony Passions

 A smooth, rich, dark explosion; it’s creamy, rich filling oozing and trickling down your throat as you suckle at the tip of the swirls. This cream flowing as you feel the taste of honey, coffee, and cream bursting across your tastebuds.


The Ménage et Trios

 The slightly spicy heat of Caribbean passions entwined with a rich, creamy, dutch white chocolate wrapping themselves around each other placing you in the centre of their passionate clinch as they both press themselves aggressively across your tongue. The chilli flaked dark chocolate is bold pounding and relentless in his plundering of your mouth his warmth thrusting  into your very soul as his partner takes a gentle exploration almost nibbling and licking across your centre. Her leaving an impression of feather-light kisses, an aching gentle release of bliss.


The Medieval Maiden

 This selection is dainty and elegant, poised, graceful yet there is a hard core behind her. Unwrapping her delicate Muslin and gossamer garments and you are greeted with a smooth creamy pale squiggle of cream, the light catching and glinting off her jewels of decadent sugar. Sliding into her evokes a contrast of sharp almost bitter salts and sugar blends leaving you feeling a princess dining on the best of the luxurious feasts from long past palaces. When she reaches her crescendo you are assailed with an explosion of honey from the depths of her body oozing trickling over and out of your tongue coating your lips in her release



The Reclusive Author.

 This piece was crafted especially for our special edition box. It is a limited edition, handmade on the orders of the commissioning artist. He is a complex, often confusing figure. His blend of a hard toffee sheathed in a rich caramal. He isn’t sweet or sour, he is this impossibly perfect blend of both.  His outer crust of salt protective and challenging, but when you persevere, hard long sucking, you are rewarded with his inner sweetness and a final earth-shattering release of hot sherbet fizzing into you, his whiteness leaking over your chin.



Yours,

The Artisan Chocolatier.

Wednesday, January 9, 2013

Over the Air Affair

Wow, I'm not sure if either has anything to do with the other but the day I started writing this we began experiencing our January thaw!  Several days with temperatures below freezing had us all bundled up like fishermen in an ice shack, longing for a fireplace.  That's when inspiration struck and suddenly I am shedding layers.  Is it getting warm in here or is it just me? 

If you buy into that whole butterfly flaps it's wings in the Andes affecting the air current, which carries through to the tornadoes in the Midwest the two might be related.  I'll enjoying the warmth inside and outside now as well. I hope that my Valentine's offering warms you up!


Over The Air Affair
 
by
Ellie Mack
 
 

January 3, 2013

Aubrey fussed with her hair, constantly checking the time on her phone.  She checked her makeup, touching up her mascara and lippy.  Turning In front of the mirror, hoping he wouldn’t notice the breakout  on her forehead.  She thought she’d covered it fairly well, but decided she had enough time to check with Pris just to make sure.  Shoving  her makeup into the small bag she tossed it under the sink haphazardly. 

She dialed her friend.  “Pris, hey you got a few minutes to help me?  I want you to get on Skye and tell me if my makeup  and hair is OK.”  Walking briskly into the sitting area of her apartment, she sat on the edge of the sofa bent over her laptop, clicked on ‘Pris Mathes’ on her contact list and waited for her friend to answer.

“Hey girlfriend.”

“Hey!  So what do you think?"  She turned her head around this way and that.  "I look OK?  I don’t want him to think I haven’t slept since his plane left.”

“Pfft, well you haven’t have you? “  She leaned in to the screen checking Aubrey’s image. “Aside from slightly dark circles under your eyes I think you’ll be fine.”

“Really?  You’re not just saying that?”  She ran her fingers through her hair nervously.

“Bree, come on.  You’ve dated Derek for like . . . nine months now.  I think he knows what you look like.”

She exhaled loudly.  “I know, it’s just . . . well I miss him and I wanted to look my best for him.  All I’ve heard from his is two emails.”

“I’m sure they are keeping him plenty busy over there.  Company pays for him to fly to China, I’m sure they expect him to work while he is there.”

“Yeah I know.  Just miss him is all.  Honestly, before he left I thought he was going to break up with me.  He seemed distant somehow.  Like he wanted to break up but couldn't quite bring it up or was weighing it in his mind.  I've held back with him.  Oh Pris, he makes me crazy. ”  Aubrey looked up at the ceiling, "It's like he knows all my buttons to push and I turn into some nympho sex crazed person that I don't recognize and it kind of scares me - but I don't want him to stop.  Sex has never been so satisfying.  He's amazing."
 
Pris cleared her throat.  "TMI  Bree, TMI!  I mean I know you guys have sex and all, but seeing as I'm without a boyfriend for the foreseeable future, I don't want to hear about it.  Unless you plan to relive our college days as roommates.  One thing though sweetie, maybe sit in the floor, and not hunched over  your coffee table.  Maybe put your cushion in the floor like you do when you’re  writing.”

Aubrey immediately tossed the cushion in the floor and sat crossed leg, her back against the sofa. “Better? And if you're interested in coming over, " She twirled her hair coyly.  "I'd be happy to relive our roommate days.”

“I might take you up on that - maybe we can do a movie and some Chinese food this Friday.  Yes, much better angle and it even makes the dark circles not as obvious.  Really, you worry too much.  I don’t think he’s going to be all dolled up for you.  He’ll probably be tired, unshaven and pretty rough looking.”

Bree laughed nervously. “Yeah, you’re probably right but still.  Oh! I need to go, he’s calling me now.  Talk to you later.  Thank you!”

Aubrey closed the conversation with Pris, then clicked open the flashing call from Derek.  “Hi baby.”

“Bree”  He said it in a breathy whisper. “I’ve missed you.”

“Derek I’ve missed you too Hun.” He looked exhausted.  The dark circles under his eyes were quite obvious. “You doing OK?  You look really tired.”

“Ugh, that’s putting it mildly. “  He raked his fingers through his hair. “They expect a month’s worth of work to be done in two weeks.  The project is in a mess, they are behind schedule and I’ve had to be at the factory ten to twelve hours a day since Tuesday.”  He offered a weak smile, then sipped his tea.  “I wanted to  talk with you sooner, but I’m dependent  on the company for practically everything.”

“What’s it like over there?”  She suddenly seemed at a loss for words.  She wanted to be in his arms, snuggling close, letting him drift off to sleep.  He looked completely worn out.

“Honestly, all I’ve seen so far is the inside of a cab and the factory.  They put us in a small conference room for lunch and by the time I get back here to the hotel it’s late.  I’ve ordered room service every night.  Well, the hotel is nice.”  He lifted his tablet and sort of showed her a circular view of his room.  He stood and walked a bit.
“Get a load of this Bree.”  He showed her the bathroom.  A marble surround, walk in shower with a bench inside.  It was large enough to fit four or five people inside.  Then he brought the screen back around. “All I can think of when I shower is our last night together, in your shower. Loving you slowly, water cascading over us with you pressed against the wall.  God babe, I miss you.”

She blushed.  She had thought of their last night together and then the quickie in the kitchen before they left for the airport.  She had to be touching him even while he was driving.  “Derek, honey I miss you too.  I was thinking about us together in the shower just a little bit ago, when I showered.” 

“Yeah?  Did you, um touch yourself thinking about me?”  He leaned in with that sexy grin  spreading across his face.

She blushed, grinning. “Yes.”

“Oh you naughty girl you.   And here I’ve been abstinent for you.  Well, almost.  I made good use of the shower as well.”  He sat back down on the sofa, leaning back.  "So in all the time we've been together you've never even hinted that you might masturbate.  Been holding out on me.  I may have to spank you when I get home."  A wicked grin began to spread, with one corner of his mouth going up first then slowly the other followed.
 
“Yeah?”   She blushed grinning.  "You wouldn't."
"For holding out on me like that?  I most certainly will!  To think I could have watched you do that for me?   In front of me?  Damn babe, that's a huge turn on.  I may need another shower before I go to bed."
"Oh Derek, well I guess I have been holding out on you.  You're the best lover in the world honey."  She chewed her lip then raised her eyes slowly.  "And if you think spanking me night help,  you are welcomed to try.  Might have to tie me down as well."  Her hand went over her chest, her fingers tracing the edge of her shirt.
His breath caught and she could see him shift positions on the sofa.  "You are a wicked woman at heart aren't you babe?  Teasing me like that when I can't do anything from here?"
she sucked her bottom lip in, leaning in.  "Doing what honey?"  Placing her fingertip between her teeth, she leaned in giving him a cleavage shot but all he could think about was the way she slowly sucked her fingertip before lowering it. 
He swallowed hard.  "Yes, um I'll uh do that."  He shifted uncomfortably.   "Bree,  I want you so bad baby. You're driving me wild."
As she leaned back a bit, Derek could see her hard nipples against her thin cotton blouse.  He raked his hand over his face.  God he wanted her.  Wanted her beneath him feeling himself buried to the hilt inside of her, hearing that mewling sound she made.   If he stayed  up late they could perhaps try something new, but he knew how exhausted he felt.  He let out a sigh.  The supervisor expected him to finish this project and fix the problems  that had production stopped.  "Bree I,  I want to talk to you longer but I need to get some sleep here.  Can I call you again same time tomorrow?"
"Yes of course.  I wish you could talk longer, but I understand and you do look exhausted."
"I am,  trust me If I didn't feel so wiped I want to continue with you." 
She could hear the regret in his voice, and knew he wasn't lying. "Alright Derek,  you get some sleep.  I need to get ready to go to work anyway.  I love you."
"I'm sorry Bree, I'm just super tired. I love you too Bree." 
She touched her fingers to her lips then to the screen.  He did the same, then closed out the chat. 
Bree slumped back against the sofa.  She had not expected to get so aroused seeing Derek.  It was going to be a very long day.