Tag Archives: Authors I adore

Malin James Talks ROADHOUSE BLUES!

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Ladies and gentlemen, I am so excited to share a visit with a very special guest today. As you are likely aware, the lovely Malin James and I are the best of friends—which is why I’m pleased as punch to have her here! If you have been under a rock, and somehow aren’t aware of Malin’s work, then please know you are definitely missing something. Fortunately, I’m going to let you in on her amazingness right here and now. See, here’s Malin in a nutshell: her words are extraordinary, her style is exquisite, and most importantly, her mind is brilliant! Her stories range from erotic to literary, always exploring people, their place, culture, and, well, life and its many expressions, ins, and outs. No matter what Malin’s written, it often gives you pause to think and reflect, think and reflect… It’s fairly impossible for her work to not evoke something from deep within yourself. It’s just that good.

So, with all that in mind, today I am tickled to have her answering some questions about her writing as well as her brand new anthology, Roadhouse Blues! The book came out yesterday from Go Deeper Press, and I assure you, you’re not going to want to miss it.

Before you order up this anthology (if you haven’t already), please enjoy the clever mind of Malin James as she answers some burning questions I had about both Roadhouse Blues and her writing life…

An Interview with Malin James

Welcome Malin! I’m thrilled to have you here, so I’m going to dive right in… When you started Roadhouse Blues, did you have a particular vision in mind for where you wanted to go with it, or did it fall into place once you wrote a few stories?

The collection came together pretty organically. The first few stories set a tone, but the themes emerged slowly as the world developed. When I started, the only thing I knew for sure was that the stories would all be connected in some way. Having that relatively flexible structure as a foundation gave me a lot of room to explore.

What is your favorite story in the bunch and why?

That’s hard…. I’ve been sitting with a few of these stories for over a decade, while others were immediate emotional catalysts, so there’s a lot of feeling attached to all of them. That said, I think the two I feel closest to are “Krystal’s Revenge Fuck” and “Marlboro Man.” “Krystal” is audacious, angry and funny. It was so much fun to write. On the other side of the spectrum, “Marlboro Man” is the only story that has ever made me cry the keyboard. Both resonated with me in a very instinctual way. Writing them was like having a conversation with the characters.

Which story was the hardest for you to write? Can you give us a little insight into why you think this might be?

“Good Love” and “The Waitress” were definitely the hardest. “The Waitress” is about a woman confronting her abusive ex, and I drew on a lot of my own experiences for that. “Good Love” was even harder though—it’s about starting to heal after sexual trauma. It came from a very personal place, and it took a long time and a lot of drafts to get right.

Of all the characters in this anthology, who would you most want to hang out with in person? Why?

I think I’d want to hang out with Sam from “Good Love.” She has a deep well of compassion and quiet joy. I have a feeling that hanging out with her would be a really lovely experience. Also, Tom from “Marlboro Man.” He’s all kinds of tragic, but he has a really solid, good core. He strikes me as a great guy to grab a drink with. Plus, he’s sexy. Tragically sexy.

You’ve written numerous short stories over the years, so I’m not surprised that we now get the joy of an entire collection of your work. (Squee!) How was it putting together an entire anthology rather than a short for various different anthologies? What’s your preference? Was it challenging to keep them tonally and/or thematically connected?

I really enjoy contributing to anthologies—it’s a wonderful, collaborative experience. That said, putting together my own collection has been amazing. It’s given me a chance to following narrative threads and possibilities that you just can’t in a single story.

As for keeping them tonally and thematically connected, I was lucky in that the setting provided a contextual link that united the themes in a very natural way. Same with the narrative tone, which is very different from my own. It’s almost as if the Styx (the town the collection is set in) has its own voice, and that voice told each story.

What was your biggest challenge in writing this anthology?

Finding balance. Some of the stories are light and even funny, while others are darker and more serious, sometimes even challenging. It took me a while to balance the light and the dark so that each story stands on its own, while contributing to a larger whole. That’s something that I was really conscious of—portraying a wide spectrum of kinks, sexualities and emotional contexts in a way that felt right and honest for each individual story, but also knit the stories together, even when one is about joyful sex in the back of a Camaro, and others are about everything from mortality and revenge to finding unexpected love.

You and I have talked a bit about craft. Would you share a little with readers how you develop a character, and then how you go about writing their tale?

I love our conversations about craft! This won’t come as any kind of surprise, but, for me, it’s all about the characters. I was formally trained as an actor and spent the better part of my twenties on stage, so every story starts with a character and something the character needs. Whether they’re male or female, straight or gay, the characters I write generally come to me like big blobs of clay. I have a general idea about shape and size, but I find out more as they take me through the story, so the story and the characters form each other, and I refine them both through revision. For me, drafting is a necessary first step, but the real writing happens in revision when the characters start coming to life.

Say one of your stories is auctioned off for a movie deal. Which one do you pick, and who are your lead actors to carry the roles?

Oh…that’s a great question. Let me think…okay, I’m going to go with “Marlboro Man,” only because it’s the one I have the biggest soft spot for. There’s a lot that gets implied but never quite said in that story, and I’d love to see how a film director went about unpacking it. Plus, I’d kind of love to see a young Paul Newman or Matthew McConaughey play Tom, and an actress like Emily Blunt play Maybelline. There’s so much interiority to both of them. It would be amazing to watch good actors bring that interiority to life.

I have the privilege of knowing that a bonus story was added to this collection, late in your work. Can you explain more about this story and why it was important to you to add it in?

Absolutely. The story is called “Good Love” and it’s the one I struggled with the most. It’s about a woman named Leigh who experienced trauma in her childhood and her relationship to her childhood best friend (and first love) Sam. There were two challenging elements in this story. The first is that Sam is a trans woman, which took me out of my immediate experience, so it felt especially important that I get her right. Luckily, Lana Fox and Jake Traveres at Go Deeper were incredibly helpful and supportive as I worked through finding and portraying her.

The second challenge was far more personal. Leigh’s struggle draws on my own experiences with trauma and recovery, so writing her was, at times, incredibly painful. In fact, I stopped more than once because of that. In the end though, it felt too important to leave out, so I made one last big push. Luckily, it worked and was able to go in.

Pick a line, any line…yes, one line that you really love from any story. Please share what it is and why you picked it!

Agh! That’s hard! Not because I’m in love with my own prose (because gah), but because the stories have been whittled down to the point where each line feels like a little brick in a large wall…. Okay. Let’s see. One line…. All right, this is the one that popped into my head. It’s from “Love in the Time of War,” which is about two women grieving the same man. Carly tells Sarah, her boyfriend’s widow, that she was always the pretty one, and Sarah responds by saying,

“There’s no pretty one, honey. Not between us.”


That line says everything I wanted to say about how lovely sex between two women can be. There’s a deep cultural emphasis on jealousy and possession in romantic relationships. Sarah’s response to Carly’s shy compliment subverts any notion of competition between them, and sets up the healing, comforting, meaningful sexual connection they then go on to make.

Any chance we’ll see an offshoot book and/or short in the future with any of these stories/characters involved?

There’s definitely a possibility. If nothing else, I love the setting so much that I could easily see writing something else set in that town. And just between you and me, I feel like Sam (from “Good Love”) and I still have quite a lot to do.

All right…inquiring minds want to know. What’s your favorite time of day to write and where?

My desk! I love my desk. I love my desk so much. As for my favorite time to write, it’s late at night, when the house is asleep, but having a 6-year-old makes being a night owl pretty impossible, so I write after I drop her off in the mornings, until I pick her up in the early afternoons.

What’s next for you?

It probably sounds boring, but the next thing for me is a little break. I put so much into writing this collection that it’ll feel good to rest a bit and do something completely different for a while. I’ll probably work on essays and stories in a different genre for a bit. Not that I’m closing the door on erotica. Erotica has been very good to me, and I’m definitely leaving that door open.

Wonderful! A giant thank you to Malin James for joining me today! Be sure to pick up your copy of Roadhouse Blues at one of the buy links below!

About Roadhouse Blues:

Welcome to Styx—a blue-collar, American town where people can do whatever they like, so long as they don’t advertise. From a 1950s diner to the back of a rocking Camaro, the stories in Roadhouse Blues reveal sex that is by turns romantic, raw, triumphant, and desperate. Meet two women grieving the same man, a bartender looking for anything but love, and a hot, brash newlywed who knows she married a cheat. The local garage is run by a kick-ass woman who gives as fierce as she gets, and the strip club is a place full of whiskey and smoke, where memories are exposed as easily as skin.

“In the end,” writes author Malin James, “sex is about people, and people have motivations, and sometimes those motivations surprise them.”

This is Roadhouse Blues. Surprise is just the beginning.

About Malin James:

Malin James is an essayist, blogger, and short story writer. Her work has appeared in Electric Literature, Bust, MUTHA, Queen Mob’s Tea House and Medium, as well as in podcasts and anthologies for Cleis Press, Sweetmeats Press and Stupid Fish Productions. Her first collection, Roadhouse Blues, releases this summer with Go Deeper Press.

Find a longer biography at malinjames.com.

Buy Roadhouse Blues at: 

Go Deeper Press

Amazon

B&N Nook

Kobo

Cover for Show Yourself to Me

Show Yourself to Me – From the Fantastic Xan West!

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Hi everyone! I’m thrilled to welcome Xan West today, a writer who has long impressed me as one willing to take risks and walk the edge. Xan’s fiction is always transgressive and bold, and, having had the opportunity to listen to a live reading, I can tell you Xan’s words will make you sit up in your seat.

Xan’s Show Yourself to Me is now out from Go Deeper Press—and I’m honored to be part of the blog tour for this collection. Xan is a writer who empowers with words and emotions that stand out in our genre, and this anthology is full of queer kink that explores power dynamics, consent, play, and community. The tour has been going on for a bit, so please be sure to check out the entire lineup of stops here, as well as Xan’s thoughtful, informative postings at Kink Praxis.

For now, I’m going to turn the floor over to Xan to share not only an intense excerpt, but a musing on a kink involving one of my favorite things: boots.

Take it away, Xan!

Cover for Show Yourself to Me

For the Love of Boots
By Xan West

Boots are one of my core kinks, and have been since the beginning. Boots are one of those kinks that can be really baffling to people, and bootlicking in particular is one of those things that lots of folks find deeply distasteful. One of my early online screen names was “bootlicker”, and it consistently garnered me both puzzled and squicked reactions.

From the outside it can get immediately read as being about humiliation, and sometimes it is. But there are so many other flavors of bootlicking. It can be about worship, or sex, or begging, or love, or service, or fetish, or submission, or dedication, or stubborn will, or gender, or getting the best shine possible. Like most kink acts, what you bring to it is really where the juice is.

When I write boots into my stories, I attempt to illuminate boot play in its specificity, to give the reader a clear sense of why this character is doing it and what it means to them. In the story “My Will,” a dominant chooses to kneel for the first time in fifteen years. He gave up submission after an abusive D/s relationship, and moved to the other side of the whip. He is drawn to submit to a man he trusts, who has offered a scene for his birthday, and rationalizes that it’s not a forever choice, more like a vacation.

I’m going to share an excerpt with you, that shows what boots mean to him in this particular scene. As a heads up, this excerpt includes D/s, boot care, boot worship, cock torture, rough body play, face fucking, consensual non-consent, and humiliation play.

An Excerpt from “My Will”

When I knelt to do his boots, it was like coming home. I savored every second of it, taking my time brushing on the saddle soap, carefully cleaning every inch of them. I had not even done my own boots in many years, much less anyone else’s. It was too dangerous, I had found: I got too trancey and submissive. I could let that happen in this space and time. I could let myself go there with this man I trusted immensely.

Flaming the polish was a delight. Bootblacking is such a sensual experience, and I wanted to take my time with it, relish every aspect. The scent of the polish, the dancing flames, the warmth of it on my fingers. The ritual was sacred, I knew that, each step vital to the whole. I applied two full coats of polish, shining it vigorously with the brush, pulling off my A-line shirt, ripping it in front of him, and using a piece of it to buff his boot. I lifted my gaze to meet his and asked permission. He stroked my cheek gently as he answered, and I closed my eyes so I might feel every millimeter of his hand on my skin.

I lick boots the old fashioned way: belly on the floor, as low as I can be. As I placed myself on the floor at his feet, I shivered. It felt so good to be here, to be worshipping the boots of this man I deeply respected. I was in his care, and he would be careful with me—I knew that. When I touched my lips reverently to his boot, I felt so full I could burst. This was exactly where I wanted to be. Tears fell onto the leather, and his boots soaked in their due. I could taste salt with the polish as I licked, pressing hard with my tongue, wanting him to feel it.

I had made myself forget what this tasted like, felt like. I concentrated hard on all of it, imprinting the memory of this lest it be the only time I would do it. His other boot came to rest on the back of my neck, and he used it to press my mouth down hard, groaning. He held me there for a good long time, his hand reaching down to stroke my hair, his bootheel digging into my shoulder. I didn’t want it to end. Then he lifted his boot from my neck and pulled my head up, telling me not to forget that the other boot needed care, too.

As I cleaned and polished, his hand stayed on my neck, calmly stroking. At some point, his boot snaked between my thighs and dug into my cock. I held my breath, gritted my teeth, and did my damnedest to remain focused on polishing his boot, to give it just as much care as I had given its brother. It was hard. The heel digging into my cock felt amazingly delicious, flawlessly excruciating. It took all I had to finish, and I could not be quiet while doing it. Growling moans kept fighting their way past my lips.

I lay on the ground again, pressing my lips into his boot, and felt him resting the sole of the other one on my back, pressing it into my skin, my naked belly on the dirty floor. It was heaven, and I began to tremble. So much, so intense, so exactly what I had been yearning for.

He pulled me up to my knees, suddenly, by the hair, tugged out his cock, and thrust it down my throat. It was amazing. I went from fifteen years of nothing to a glorious cock deep in my throat. I was gagging on it, tears seeping from my eyes, aching for him to use my mouth in exactly the way he needed. His hands gripped the back of my neck, and he rammed his dick as deep as it could go, relentlessly, selfishly, purely focused on his own need, growling, until he came, forcing me to swallow it, holding my mouth on his cock as he thrust repeatedly, until every drop was gone.

He released my neck, and his boot pushed me into the floor until I had my head pressed down onto it, his boot kicking my ass, ramming between my legs, stomping my thighs. It was brutal and intense and completely unexpected. I began to shiver, to scream no, and all he said was that no was not a safe word, and I better take it for him. His boots flattened me, kept me in the place I desperately ached to be, the place I feared with all of my heart.

He showed me exactly how much I wanted to be under his boot, how much I loved it. He made me say it to him, tell him I loved being under his boot, repeatedly, as he kicked me, dug the heels into me, hurt me with his boots. When I finally said it the way he wanted to hear it, he rewarded me by forcing my mouth onto the filthy floor. He made me lick it, to show him how much I appreciated his attention, his dominion, his boots showing me exactly where I belonged and what I loved.

I sobbed as I licked that dirty cold floor, the taste bitter and perfect, and he groaned, telling me my tears turned him on, that the sight of me under his boots was making him hard again, that if I did a good job he just might fuck me. Soon, I was licking salty wetness along with the grime on the ground, and I knew that I wanted to please him more than anything in the world. He was good enough to see inside me and give me exactly what I desperately ached for, and all I wanted to do was bring him a small portion of ease or pleasure.

He lifted my head and inspected the section I had been cleaning with my tongue, saying gruffly that I had done a good job on the floor, and on his boots, and that he thought I had the makings of a good boy in me. The universe stopped for a moment. All I could hear was those words of praise, and they slithered their way inside a shriveled place in my chest and watered it, just a little.

***

About the Book:

In Show Yourself to Me: Queer Kink Erotica, Xan West introduces us to pretty boys and nervous boys, vulnerable tops and dominant sadists, good girls and fierce girls and scared little girls, mean Daddies and loving Daddies and Daddies that are terrifying in delicious ways.

Submissive queers go to alleys to suck cock, get bent over the bathroom sink by a handsome stranger, choose to face their fears, have their Daddy orchestrate a gang bang in the park, and get their dream gender-play scene—tied to a sling in an accessible dungeon.

Dominants find hope and take risks, fall hard and push edges, get fucked and devour the fear and tears that their sadist hearts desire.

Within these 24 stories, you will meet queers who build community together, who are careful about how they play with power, who care deeply about consent. You will meet trans and genderqueer folks who are hot for each other, who mentor each other, who do the kind of gender play that is only possible with other trans and genderqueer folks.

This is Show Yourself to Me. Get ready for a very wild ride.

Find Show Yourself to Me at…

Go Deeper Press

Amazon

Barnes and Noble

***

Please be sure to check out Xan’s next stop at Ashley Young‘s site tomorrow. And, don’t forget to pick up your copy of Show Yourself to Me today!

XX,
Jade

About Xan: 

Xan West is the nom de plume of Corey Alexander, a recent transplant to Oakland from Brooklyn, who has been doing community kink education for over ten years. Xan has been published in over 35 erotica anthologies, including the Best S/M Erotica series, the Best Gay Erotica series, and the Best Lesbian Erotica series. Xan’s story “First Time Since,” won honorable mention for the 2008 National Leather Association John Preston Short Fiction Award. Xan’s work has been described by reviewers as “offering the erotica equivalent of happy ever after” and as “some of the best transgressive erotic fiction to come along in recent years.”

Xan refuses pronouns, twists barbed wire together with yearning, and tilts pain in many directions to catch the light. Xan adores vulnerable tops; strong, supportive bottoms; red meat; long winding conversations about power, privilege, and community; showtunes; and cool, dark, quiet rooms with comfortable beds. Find Xan’s thoughts about the praxis of sex, kink, queerness, power, and writing at xanwest.wordpress.com.

Cover of Rachel Kramer Bussel's Sex and Cupcakes

Sex and Cupcakes: A Sweet and Provocative Read

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I don’t do many reviews on this blog for several reasons, the biggest being that I’m inundated with technical reading for my day job. So, while I do occasionally squeeze in a book for pleasure, reading one for review is often a juggling act beyond my capacity. The benefit of this unfortunate fact, however, is that I am able to save this space for reviews of things I truly enjoy, books and stories that speak to me on a level I’d relish sharing with others. This is why today, I’m delighted to tell you about Rachel Kramer Bussel’s Sex and Cupcakes.

Rachel Kramer Bussel is a well-known erotica name, but she’s also a woman in the genre I’ve looked up to for years. She’s rocked my world with stories I’d read long before she accepted my first ever published piece (when she left me squealing, of course), and after that, too—both as a writer with a delicious imagination and an editor with a detailed eye and well-pinned finger on the pulse of our crazy market. It’s this latter piece Ms. Bussel takes a bit further than others, and that I most admire; she is virtually everywhere with articles, commentary, and reflections on sex and its various forms of cultural impact. Her words hit right on the mark for me, as she’s got a strong opinion paired with a knack for examining all sides of the issue—which is precisely why I bought Sex and Cupcakes, and why I enjoyed it so much!Cover of Rachel Kramer Bussel's Sex and Cupcakes

This collection of nine essays showcases some of Ms. Bussel’s best commentary while also examining our sexual culture. Pieces such as “I’m Pro-Choice and I Fuck” and “Monogamishmash”—like many of the essays in the book—are thoughtful explorations of what our labels mean, and perhaps more importantly, what they don’t mean, that simultaneously share personal anecdotes and revelations. It’s clear Ms. Bussel doesn’t intend to throw out opinions and jam them into the minds of those she’s writing for; hers is a style full of sophisticated writing and opinion, but with a welcoming approach to every other person’s desire, style, and kink, too. She speaks in “Sorry, But I’m Not a Sexpert” about her sex writing not equating to acting as a sex educator. While I agree this is true, it’s her openness on the page that focuses readers on the idea that things aren’t always what they seem, and which teaches them—albeit indirectly—that in exploring our own sexuality, there is no need to push our wants, kinks, and desires onto others. This open-mindedness is a repeating theme throughout Sex and Cupcakes, and the primary reason her essays held such intrigue.

I am not, in general, a nonfiction reader, but getting an inside peek on the thoughts of one of my idols made this collection even more enjoyable for me. Whether it be Ms. Bussel’s striking and blunt words throughout “My Boyfriend’s Fat,” or her personal confessions on fantasy versus reality in “Champagne Sex,” each essay struck a different and pleasant chord. My personal favorites were “I Have Trouble with Orgasms” and “Sex and Cupcakes.” The former is a smart, important read for most women, a sort of battle cry for the sentiment of “lacking” some feel or are made to feel when this, in truth, is a pretty normal occurrence for many, while the titular piece is a brief memoir exploring the author’s relationship with both sides of her life as erotica writer and cupcake blogger. It was this piece that resonated for me the most, both in my own sensation of having two lives and the perception that goes with each (erotica writer life and “normal” life), and her comments on society’s tendency towards slut-shaming in the name of feminism while still condemning those who choose to speak their erotic truths. I’d say overall, this piece was about balance; so it would seem that as far apart as they sound—the sweetness of cupcakes and the delicious explorations of all things sex—Rachel Kramer Bussel shows us they are a pairing quite meant to go together.

I highly recommend you pick up your copy of Sex and Cupcakes on Amazon.

XX,
Jade

My personal optimist motto pencils, a gift from Alison Tyler

You Win Some, You Lose Some (But Then You Win More)

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It is finally October.

*Breathes enormous sigh of relief.*

My Sexy Optimist Pencils from Alison Tyler

Alison Tyler got me these pencils from Carbon Crusader as a participation prize—with my own personal motto on them!

To be clear, September was probably the most brutal month I’ve had in years. I had a gazillion things going on (no, really, a gazillion), and I felt more challenged than the proverbial hamster on a wheel. See, I was a runner on a treadmill asked to juggle fireballs, kittens, and jello with one hand tied behind my back, wearing a blindfold and chewing gum while also singing Christmas carols. It was nuts! My day job went full-tilt chaos; I had so many events scheduled I turned insomniac again; I had a jury duty run that, to be honest, was extremely emotional and brought up some old “stuff” for me (fortunately, I was dismissed after two days); and on top of all that, I wasn’t getting my words in. I’m an extremely fast writer, but when you don’t have the time, you don’t have the words. I also try not to write when I haven’t been sleeping, because bad things happen—I get forgetful. Plot points disappear. Characters lose important traits. Dialogue gets painful. And on and on…I mean heck, even outside the writing, I was so tired I had two conversations with a friend in one day and completely forgot it was her birthday. OMG. I don’t do that, like, ever—I’m the Keeper of the Birthdays! (Fortunately, she’s not a big birthday person. She laughed the whole thing off and told me to get some sleep.)

So all stressful things aside, here’s the deal—I’m generally a super optimist. I admit, I struggled to hang on to that as the month continued, and I had to keep reminding myself what a certain family member of mine always says: “How do you eat the elephant, honey? One bite at a time.”

I would never eat the legendary Bertha, but you get the idea.

I would never eat the legendary Bertha, but you get the idea.

So I kept repeating that to myself…

One bite.

One bite.

One bite.

Come here, Bertha baby, you’re mine.

In truth, some of this figurative elephant eating was pretty kick-ass, and since there was so much goodness, I’m going to list it out for you:

♦ I got to join Rose Caraway in a bunch of readings for The Sexy Librarian’s Big Book of Erotica. It needs to be said I love reading out loud, plus, I got to read my girl Tamsin Flowers’s delightful story, “POW! It’s Shibari Girl!” Great story, great events, AND, as it turns out, reading with Rose is better than ice cream with brownies and fudge sauce on top. It’s so much fucking fun! It doesn’t hurt that she and her fabulous husband, Big Daddy, are like the nicest, sweetest people on the planet, so every event I attended and participated in was fantastic!

♦ I hung out with other amazing people at all these events, too! Of course there was the lovely Malin James (whom I’m so close to I’m convinced she is my twin separated at birth), the sassy and delightful social media guru Eva Gantz, and the charming and sweet Sinclair Sexsmith. I had so many incredible conversations with each of them!

♦ Malin James and I went to one of Rose Caraway’s events as viewers, and we ended up having drinks with Rose, Big Daddy, and the legend that is Rachel Kramer Bussel. Guys, seriously—I had drinks with Rose, Big Daddy, Rachel KB, and Malin! Holy smokes!

♦ I finished my edits for Coming Together: Among the Stars, a sci-fi erotica anthology edited by Lynn Townsend and coming soon to benefit International Still’s Disease Foundation. I’ll have details on the book and my story, “The Joy Ride,” in the near future!Cover of Among the Stars

♦ I joined a randy group of wild writers for an upcoming anthology called Chemical (Se)X. Details forthcoming, but for now I’ll just say chocolate and sex.

♦ I got to support my graphic memoirist friend, MariNaomi, in the release of her new book in San Francisco! Mari is a personal friend and mentor in many ways, so I loved seeing her celebrate the release of her book. So proud!

♦ I celebrated my soon-to-arrive niecey #2 or nephew #1 (to be determined!) at a baby shower. (I love being an auntie.) 🙂

♦ I wrote several erotic poems inspired by the challenge Tamsin Flowers issued at our last Pillow Talk Secrets session. This was fun and fabulous; I got to stir up my poetry roots while getting in some smutty words in seriously short time increments—and I even started a page for it! This was the bulk of the writing I did all month. You know what? It wasn’t a ton, but it still felt like a win. And speaking of wins…

♦ I shared more fabulous moments with my Pillow Talk girls. Malin James and Tamsin Flowers are, quite simply, the loveliest. I’m a happy camper having the both of them in my life. (MUAH to you both!)

♦ And then there was the ginormous feat…I completely transferred my website to a self-hosted space. This involved a whole heck of a lot of design and setup work behind the scenes that could not have been possible without my awesome teacher, DomSigns. When his dreamy wife, Molly Moore, initially offered to help, I had no idea what I was in for—namely, a bevy of delightful Skype sessions that resulted in (a) me learning a ton and (b) us laughing a lot (mostly at naughty jokes). I can now proudly say that this site is damn near done and censorship free. There are a few other little things I have planned and/or need to fix, but holy torpedo, Batman, transfer complete!

So basically, despite all the chaos, I came out smiling. I may be ragged and tired, but I’m happy and have time again—which means I can get back to the book I had half-written before The Attack of September. Yeah!

Now, I just have one more thing to say:

October, baby—you’re my bitch.

XX,
Jade

 

Cover of The Sexy Librarian's Big Book of

The Sexy Librarian’s Big Book of Erotica

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Hi everyone! Today I’m thrilled to be the next stop on Rose Caraway’s The Sexy Librarian’s Big Book of Erotica tour! This book is positively fabulous—it mixes genres, sex, and one incredibly sexy librarian to meet all sorts of desires. Some of you may recall that I jumped on the live book tour and did a little reading with Ms. Caraway, so I admit, I’m a tad biased. However, this book has so many delicious things going for it, I had to share!

Picture of The Sexy Librarian's Big Book of Erotica

Here’s the thing—beyond the sexy cover (on which the model is “wearing a book,” according to the very clever Ms. Caraway), this isn’t just a book of erotica. It’s a collection of carefully curated stories containing massive variety, which is what’s made it such a delightful read. It truly is a librarian’s anthology, complete with an “old-fashioned” library catalog entry to classify each story. Take, for example, the card from one of my favorites:

Library card catalogue image for Pow! It's Shibari Girl!As you can see, this special touch not only makes the book fun, but it allows the reader to pick exactly what she or he is in the mood for. (Seriously, why has this never been done before?) In this case, I saw the name Tamsin Flowers (whom most of you know I adore), the category “Superheros” and then the subject “Spandex”—and hello. I was in!

But there’s more than clever cards making this book so great. The sexy librarian herself, Rose Caraway, has done a wonderful job of collecting beautiful, artistic, and oft-literary pieces that take the erotica genre to a whole new level. Take “Mikhael” by Angela Caperton—this was another of my favorites written in an exquisitely dark voice, a voyeuristic supernatural/ghost story with some smoking f/f scenes to spice the whole thing up. Kristina Wright’s “Vivi and the Magic Man” was another lovely twist, mixing fantasy and horror with such a rich gypsy feel I could picture Port City and everything that happened there (and you’ll have to read it to figure out what, but my hint is straight from the catalog card: “Demon Orgy”). While I have a fondness for speculative fiction stories, there were other works in here that added something for everyone— “The Mating Chamber” by Caraway herself takes us on a journey through mating customs in a matriarchal (and seriously sexy) society; “Notes on a Scandal” by Kelly Maher paints a charming library romance complete with love letters; and Kate Maxwell’s “The Skilled Technician” still has me wishing my car would break down, like, stat.

But you don’t have to take my word for it. To whet your appetite, I have an exclusive excerpt to share with you!

From Kay Jaybee’s “Taped”:

Flinging the back doors of his transit van wide open, Ryan called to his girlfriend as she unlocked the industrial-sized greenhouse where they worked. “Are you still up for helping me do the deliveries today, Beth?”

“Sure am.” Beth began to box up some plants ready for loading.

Ryan’s lips curved up suggestively as he took the first tray of flowerpots from her outstretched hands. “Good. A bit of company could be fun.”

Beth couldn’t help but smile back when she saw the mischievous glint in his mahogany eyes. “No need to look so excited, I’m only going to be carrying boxes of flowers in and out of your van.

The That’s what you think, stare Ryan gave her in reply sent a mild stirring of unease tripping down Beth’s spine.

Holding Beth’s gaze, Ryan picked up three thick blankets. “You can start by helping me lay these blankets on the van floor.”

The memory of the fantasy Ryan had shared with her the night before, as they’d rolled around, limbs entangled, on his king-sized bed, suddenly loomed large in Beth’s mind. “You aren’t serious?”

Not sure she wanted to hear Ryan answer her question, Beth busied herself with wrapping extra strips of bubble-wrap around the bases of the flowerpots, giving herself time to remember how to breathe properly. She knew precisely what that dangerously sexy expression on Ryan’s face could mean.

Two months ago, while walking along a beach, he’d shared a seafront fucking fantasy with her. The next minute Beth had been on her hands and knees, her lover’s beautiful cock easing in and out of her, while her nub was tickled with the tip of a hermit-crab shell. The memory of how scared she’d been of someone spotting them while they rutted in the sand, and how aroused the thought of discovery had made her, sent quivers of confused longing through Beth’s chest. The look he’d given her then, and the one Ryan was giving her now, were almost identical.

“You know I’m serious.”

***
Sexy, hmm? So, what you’ll want to do right now is pick up your very own copy of this book. You can buy it on Amazon, at Barnes and Noble, and at Cleis Press.

But wait! I have more news. Want to hear some of these stories live? Rose Caraway will be reading at Books, Inc. in the San Francisco Castro at 7:30pm tonight, and then again tomorrow, September 25th, at the Good Vibes Lakeshore store in Oakland, CA from 6:30 to 8:30pm. I’m extra tickled to be helping her read on this latter date alongside the talented Sinclair Sexsmith! If you can, please join Rose Caraway at one of these events—watching her read from The Sexy Librarian’s Big Book of Erotica is quite a treat!

In the meantime, don’t forget to pick up your copy.

XX,
Jade

Cover of Kristina Lloyd's Undone

Kristina Lloyd’s Undone Tour is Here!

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Sometimes, there are authors who take you on twists and turns you don’t anticipate. For me, Kristina Lloyd is one such author. Clever and dazzling, Kristina writes intelligent erotica—as in, she doesn’t do the expected, the cookie cutter, or the mundane. She does real, she does hard, and she does damn sexy. The first book I read of hers was Thrill Seeker, and I had a lot of similar things to say about her writing when I reviewed that book and got hooked in for more.

Today she’s here to tell us all about her new book, Undone. I’m delighted to have been able to ask her all sorts of questions about the book as well her personal interests, and now I get to share the interview with you. So, please read on to hear from the talented and lovely Kristina Lloyd!

Picture of Undone Blog Tour Logo

Hi Kristina! Thank you so much for joining us. I am so excited about Undone! It sounds positively divine. I’d like to start by asking some questions about the book. Tell us about your inspiration for the main character, Lana.

Somewhat prosaically, she was inspired by a friend of a remote friend on Facebook. I’m terribly nosy, as are most writers, and something about this woman caught my eye. When I checked out her profile, I found an intriguing and beautiful woman who looked to have an effortlessly great life. She didn’t have the conventional trappings of domestic bliss and wealth but instead owned a hip shop in London, had loads of friends, a couple of kids, excellent taste in clothes and so on. And I wondered what went on under the surface? If someone like that felt they were unraveling within, would their success and well-constructed lifestyle enable them to conceal it from those around them? And if so, for how long? When would the cracks start to show?

Nice. You always go so much deeper, which is what I love about your work! Speaking of, the plot of this book is classic dark, transgressive, edgy KL style: a naughty threesome goes horribly awry. (Or does it?) Where did you come up with this idea?

I had an idea to start with a dead body at a party and developed the storyline from there. I should stress: nobody dies during the threesome!

Phew! 🙂 So, without giving away too much, will you tell us a little about how this threesome sparks? One was a customer in the bar, right? What about the other man? And how did they end up jumping on this hot fantasy adventure?

Basically, Lana asks the two guys if they’d be up for it! She’s no shy, retiring violet. They’re at a weekend house party in the country. She’s briefly met Sol, and thinks he’s cute, and the other guy, Misha, the one who ends up dead, is a regular at her bar. She’s attracted to Sol, but he’s playing it cool, and Misha is hanging out with them that evening. Lana asks, “So what’s a girl got to go to get laid around here?” I wanted to establish her as someone who has ownership of her sexuality and is able to direct her desires accordingly. The men are surprised but they’re both kinky and open-minded, and so the three of them head off to the bedroom.

“Ownership of her sexuality”—this pleases me. As does Lana’s apparent vintage handcuff collection! Um, more deets on that, please. (Bonus if you have pics.)

Haha! Lana buys a cocktail bar and starts a vintage handcuff collection after getting divorced. I have a whole post about cuffs over at The Kinky Brits on Friday. And yes, there will be pics!

*Grins.* All right, can you tell us your favorite character to write in this story and why?

Oh, that’s a tricky one! The story is very much focused on Lana and Sol. They’re both quite complex characters, and there’s more to them than meets the eye. Probably Sol. I loved writing the part where we get to the heart of him.

If you could take any of them out to hang in Lana’s bar, who would you pick?

I’d happily drink a few tequilas with Sol. And the rest.

Speaking of the bar…what’s Lana’s drink of choice?

Martini. Her taste is for elegant classics.

Now, I know you’ve expressed some worry over the spoiler potential of this book. Did you want to say anything more on that here? 

The book has a couple of twists. Sooner or later someone will reveal them in a review. I’m just hoping to stave off that moment for as long as possible so readers can enjoy the book as it’s meant to be enjoyed.

That’s fair—and I promise to keep my lips sealed! Okay, next I have a huge question for you, but… your work often showcases a woman with “darker” wants than what’s considered “normal” and/or “acceptable” in most erotic romance—thank you for always doing that. There seem to be the walls confining the genre, and then there is you punching your awesomely intelligent fist through them. How does it feel to write women who have realistic interests that contradict the expectation?

Thank you! I’m not the only writer doing this, thank God, and I think it’s important we keep on doing it, keep challenging the current notion that softcore romance typifies female desire. I write a lot about women who get off on humiliation, degradation, forced submission, rough sex and shame. I think these are valid kinks but it’s not an easy sell. I think most people, even if they’re not into BDSM, can appreciate why someone might enjoy handcuffs or a spanking; less so the psychological aspects.

Excellent points, and I 100% agree. Keep working your magic, Kristina! Now it’s time to move on to some more personal questions. I would describe your stories as erotic thrillers—did you always write erotica, or did you start in the thriller genre (or some other genre) first?

I started in erotica. I’ve dabbled in horror, and I’d love to try my hand at writing a suspense thriller one day.

So are you a plotter or do you fly wild when you write?

I plot, in part because I’m accustomed to presenting my publisher with a synopsis to secure a commission. I invariably deviate from the plot but don’t go wildly off track. I’m usually writing the opening scenes as I plot, and that’s the nearest I get to free fall.

Tell us about your writing process. Where do you do it? Do you work on one project at a time, or many?

My process changes with my personal circumstances. Undone was mainly written around a day job, at weekends, on early mornings and evenings. I write better in the morning when I’m still a little doozy, and before my head has been overtaken by more ordered thought processes. I’d sometimes get up at 5am to work on Undone. I find evenings are better for editing. I’m always at my desk and I work in silence. No cafes or music for me. Ideally, I’d work on single projects. I prefer to immerse myself in a story rather than juggle several.

What’s your favorite genre to read, and what are you reading now?

I’m currently hooked on female-penned suspense thrillers. I’ve just devoured Liane Moriarty’s The Husband’s Secret and next up is Elizabeth Haynes’ Revenge of the Tide.

I used to devour those myself—I was an Erica Spindler fiend! But back to your thrilling and sexy book—say Lana makes you a drink. What’s your pick?

Margarita! It’s my fave, and I know she’d make a great one. Sharp, sour and salty. Yum.

And last but not least—the inescapable question when you’re hanging with me—what’s your favorite candy?

I don’t do sweet stuff! Can I have a bag of salted cashews instead? Or can I lick fresh sweat from a hot, naked man? I’m quite partial to salt. And to hot, naked men.

Ha! Well, there you have it, folks! The wonderfully talented and brilliant Kristina Lloyd! I’m so happy she joined us today to talk about her interests as well as her delicious new book, Undone. Thanks, Kristina!

Want to know more about Undone?

Here’s the blurb:

When Lana Greenwood attends a glamorous house party she finds herself tempted into a ménage à trois. But the morning after brings more than just regrets over fulfilling a fantasy one night stand. One of the men she’s spent the night with is discovered dead in the swimming pool. Accident, suicide or murder, no one is sure and Lana doesn’t know where to turn. Can she trust Sol, the other man, an ex-New Yorker with a dirty smile and a deep desire to continue their kinky game?

Buy it at:

Amazon UK paperback :: Amazon UK Kindle :: Amazon US Kindle :: Amazon CA paperback :: Amazon CA Kindle

Don’t miss out, everyone! I’ve got this one already on my nightstand, teasing and taunting me to dig right in. It’s going to be so good!

Thanks for joining us!

XX,
Jade

Kristina Lloyd writes erotic fiction about sexually submissive women who like it on the dark, dirty and dangerous side. Her novels are published by Black Lace and her short stories have appeared in dozens of anthologies, including several ‘best of’ collection, in both the UK and US. She lives in Brighton, England.

 

 

Snog for Sommer Button

A Snog for Sommer—Kisses for a Lovely Lady!

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A Snog for Sommer BannerHi everyone,

You may recall the lovely Sommer Marsden joining me a few months back—she is both a fabulous writer and an all around sweetheart. I’ve had several amazing interactions with her myself, and over and over again, I’ve heard others say the same. She’s genuinely the nicest person around, and it’s impossible not to think of Sommer’s writing without knowing about the woman with a giant gold heart behind it all.

Unfortunately, Sommer’s family has been going through a very hard time. Her husband is currently fighting pancreatic cancer, so today, in honor of Sommer’s sweetness, several writers have gotten together to drum up some help for her family. Each author listed on the Snog for Sommer page will be posting an excerpt of a story involving a kiss, and we’re hoping that you will join us in helping Sommer’s family, too. How? On the official Snog page you’ll find a donation widget—so please, if you could, take a peek at all the authors participating and donate a little something for Sommer.Snog for Sommer Button

To provide more incentive, I’m offering up both a prize and an excerpt!

Updated: The previously offered prize of Violet Blue’s Kissing: A Field Guide has been claimed! However, if you are still able to donate, we would surely appreciate it. All you need to do is go to the Snog page and make a donation. Thank you!

To put you in a giving mood, I have a kissing excerpt for you! (Sommer writes the *best* kisses, so this is why there’s a kissing theme!) This excerpt comes from a story I wrote a couple years ago called “Marm,” which is currently hosted over at The Erotic Woman:

Angie backed against her kitchen counter and shifted her legs, the wool of her skirt itchy and grating, contradicting the silky moisture pooling at the apex of her thighs. Sometimes, she had to remind herself that Ms. Patrick did not exist beyond school walls. The dark-framed glasses, the long braid, the wool uniform that constantly aggravated her skin—that was not her.

That was who she channeled, day in and day out: the structured, successful, orderly English teacher she’d become after all these years, teaching at St. Sebastian’s since she’d graduated from college. Max had spent a mere three years there as the brazen Bio teacher, and already he’d inspired all the girls to write their names alongside his in cursive, with hearts and stars and endless swooning commentary. He was a lady killer, at school or at home, but what he was to her was something else—someone who understood that when Ms. Patrick climbed into her car at the end of the day, she became herself.

“Tell you what,” she said. “I’m going to unlock the front door. Give me three minutes, then come in and find me.”

She hung up the phone and unlocked the deadbolt, then ran back to the tile countertop. She hopped onto it and arranged herself just as she’d done this morning in the staff lounge, then resumed the undoing of her shirt until it exposed the top portion of her chest. Angie crossed her feet at the ankles and pitched forward, waiting. The hair stood up on her arms as she wondered what he’d do when he saw her, and the images running through her mind made the heat coil deep within her core.

Max’s three minutes was two, and when his count was up he nearly threw open the door. He pursed his lips and looked her over. Not a word came from his mouth as he inhaled so heavily through his nose she heard it across the kitchen.

Angie cocked her head and shifted her hips on the counter. “Hi there,” she said.

Max still didn’t say anything. He walked with measured steps across the room until he stood in front of her, then placed a hand on either side of her legs. He stared into her eyes. “Do you have a thing for countertops lately, Ms. Patrick?” Then he tilted his head toward her neck, pressing his lips to the edge of her jaw. He trailed his mouth down to her collar.

“I thought you were after Angie?”

Max nibbled at her skin, rolling it gently between his teeth. He cupped his hands around her ass and raised his mouth to her upper lip. “No.”

Cover of Kissing - A Field Guide

Make a donation and win a copy of this book!

“Oh?” Angie maintained her straight back but closed her eyes as his lips lingered over hers.

“I’m after the real Ms. Patrick. The one that exists beneath that rigid shell.”

She ducked her head. “She’s right here, you know.”

“Almost,” he said. He ran his finger along the flaps of her blouse, peering into her face. “She’s still breaking free.”

Angie slid off the counter and to the floor. Her pulse raced—he always said such things. He was thirty-four, and handsome, and though he was only a few years younger, his pushiness was not so different from that of their students. “Wine?” she muttered.

Max watched her while she poured the red liquid first into his glass and then her own. She raised it to her lips and he took a drink as well, then walked around the bar top. Before she finished her sip, he snatched her glass away and pushed her back against the tile.

“Whoa! What’s this?”

He planted his lips on hers, cutting off her words, her breath. Angie sucked air in through her nose and sank into the kiss, enjoying the probe of his tongue as his hands clawed their way across her lower back. He rubbed the contour that formed above her bottom and growled. He was most certainly not like the other men she’d dated.

“This is what I’m after,” he said between kisses. He fondled her buttons and tugged them open. Angie shivered—and when she teasingly pulled away, Max shoved his pelvis into hers, pinning her against the counter. “My sweet, sweet marm.”

***

Want to read more? Head on over to The Erotic Woman to read the full story for free. But before you do, please hop over to the Snog for Sommer page and make a contribution to help out her family.

Thanks so much for supporting the cause!

XX,
Jade

 

 

Cover of Wrapped Around Your Finger by Alison Tyler

Wrapped Up in Fantasies with Alison Tyler

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Got your attention, now, didn’t I? 😉 Well, good—because today I’m hosting the next stop on Alison Tyler’s Wrapped Around Your Finger tour!

Alison Tyler is a brilliant author of many stories, but her Submission series is simply unbeatable. In case you missed the first two books, Dark Secret Love and The Delicious Torment, I reviewed the pair of them right here. I’m bouncing off the walls to read the third, as I’m sure you are, too—and so it is with great pleasure that I turn the floor over to Ms. Tyler, so that she can tease us with her thoughts on fantasy as well as a seriously dirty, smokin’ hot excerpt. *Wipes brow.* It’s good, guys, so good!

Now there’s only one question—are you ready?

I sure hope so.

Here’s Alison!

***

Cover of Wrapped Around Your Finger by Alison Tyler

Step into My Fantasy

The word “fantasy” appears in 1,192 files on my computer.

The word “fantasies” appears in 1117.

I don’t know why I like to check things like that, but I do. (“Bondage” appears in 892 files. “Spanking” appears in 1218. Just in case—like me—you were curious.)

But back to fantasies, daydreams, mental vacations—whatever you want to call the activity—I am a goner. I see a woman pass me on the street, and immediately I fantasize about who might be waiting for her at home. I entertain myself by describing what her bedroom looks like. Even the books she might have on her bedside table. All day long, I write little stories for so many people I pass in my life.

For strangers I run into on a regular basis, I continually build on the fantasy. There’s a vampire I watch at my favorite coffee shop, and a silver fox I’m writing a shifter tale about.

Fantasies are an important theme for the characters in my fiction, as well. How could this not be so? If I am a 24/7 walking fantasy-mill, then it goes to figure that the people I create would share this characteristic with me.

Here’s a snip from Wrapped Around Your Finger:

“I know you want to,” Jack said. “I’m only going to make your deepest, darkest fantasies come true.”

“What fantasies?” I had to ask. What did Jack think my fantasies were?

“We’ll have the big back room at the restaurant,” Jack said. “When we arrive, you’ll strip down and get on your knees. I want you to service each man there.”

“Service?”

“With your mouth, baby. With your mouth. I want you to suck them all until they’re rock hard and ready. Your mouth is so sublime. I feel guilty that I’ve been so greedy with you. I should have been sharing this whole time. When the men experience that wet heat on their Johnsons, well. There’s no saying what will happen. I’ll have to take charge, to make sure they go slow. Then we’ll really see what you’re good for.”

Was Jack fucking with me? I couldn’t find my voice, couldn’t figure out where to look. Jack’s eyes were giving me no clear message. I sensed no level of teasing now. I stared down at the plate.

“And then?” I managed to ask, directing my query more to my food than to Jack.

“You want me to spell out everything, don’t you?”

I nodded. I could feel the throb in my sex. My clit was swollen, my pussy sodden. I wouldn’t have thought that those words would have turned me on so much. But Jack was spelling out desires I had never confronted in the past.

“We’ll spread you out on the table, and we’ll go to work. One man will eat your cunt while you suck another cock. We’ll get you so you don’t know if you’re coming or going. You won’t know which way is up. By the end, Sam, you’ll be this mess of longing, and we’ll take you exactly where you need to go.”

Where? I wanted to cry out. Where do I need to go, Jack?

“You’ll have a man in your pussy, a man in your ass and one in your mouth. You can do that, can’t you, Sam? You can take three at a time. I’m sure you can. Ultimately, you should be able to take more. A cock in each fist, perhaps. But tomorrow, there will only be three. You’d do that for me, wouldn’t you?”

I didn’t know how to respond. Was this one more of Jack’s tests, the type that had no correct answer? If I said I’d do what he wanted, then I was as good as stamping the word HARLOT on my passport. If I declined, if I lied and said his story hadn’t turned me on, then I’d be denying one of Jack’s commands. Plus, all he’d have to do is touch me between my legs to know the truth.

“Look at you,” Jack said lovingly. “You’re a mess already.”

***

Oh. My. God. YES!

Was that not the hottest excerpt ever? I’m telling you, this third installment is going to be incredible! Be sure to grab your copy on Amazon right now!

As for me—off to read more! 🙂

XX,
Jade

Alison Tyler has been called “a trollop with a laptop” by the East Bay Express, “a literary siren” by Good Vibrations, and “a hell of a writer” by Violet Blue. She is the editor of more than seventy-five anthologies for publishers including Pretty Things Press, Cleis, Plume, and Harlequin. Her novels include Dark Secret Love, The Delicious Torment and Wrapped Around Your Finger, which is the third in the “Submission Series” published by Cleis Press. Visit her at alisontyler.blogspot.com and follow her at twitter.com/alisontyler.

 

Picture of The Sexy Librarian's Big Book of Erotica

The Sexy Librarian’s Free Erotica Reading is at Good Vibrations Tomorrow Night!

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Hey everyone!

If you haven’t heard, Rose Caraway—aka the sexy librarian—is the editor of a fabulous new anthology called The Sexy Librarian’s Big Book of Erotica. Tomorrow night (9/4), she’ll be celebrating her Book Release Party at the Polk Street Good Vibrations in San Francisco from 6:30 to 8:30! Woo hoo!

Picture of The Sexy Librarian's Big Book of Erotica

Malin James, Lily K. Cho and I will be joining the lovely Ms. Caraway to read selections from this hot book, and I’m delighted to be reading a story by my dear pal, Tamsin Flowers. It’s sure to be a fantastic time—I mean, it’s free, it’s packed full of erotica, and it’s in a toy store. Score! 😉

You can find out more about the event right here, and I hope you’ll come join us. We’d love to see you!

Please be sure to say hi!

XX,
Jade

Jade A. Waters sipping a Jelly Bean while on vacation in Rhodes, Greece

Time for a Kinky Cocktail Story: The Jelly Bean

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I am so excited, everyone! Kristina Lloyd’s blog tour for her new book, Undone, starts today. She’ll be stopping by later in the month to answer some questions for me, but in honor of her protagonist, Lara, owning a bar, Kristina wanted to kick off the whole tour with an all-day kinky cocktail party—that is, each of our sites hosts a special drink with kink! Cheers to that!

Now, I had a few ideas running through my head on cocktail options, and as you know, alcohol tends to make people fairly uninhibited. So I thought—in the spirit of a good cocktail party story—I’d be a little extra open today. The following semi-fictional story is inspired by a vacation I took in Greece a few years back, on which I discovered a delightful new drink called “The Jelly Bean”…as well as an incredibly handsome man.

I hope you enjoy the tale…

THE JELLY BEAN

by

Jade A. Waters

“‘The Jelly Bean’? Well naturally, that’s what I’m going to have,” I said, waving my menu about with a squeal.

“Naturally.” Sia rolled her eyes, because after knowing my candy obsession—in particular, jelly beans and licorice—for over a decade, she wasn’t at all surprised.

Our waiter came out from inside the deli, then, and I dropped my menu to the table with a gulp. He was the epitome of all the Greek features I’d been drooling over this entire vacation: gorgeous, tall, and dark, with stunning rich brown eyes and nearly black hair that waved down to the bottom of his ears. And that smile—oh fuck me, that smile—had me sitting back in my chair with a gasp.

“Hi there,” I said.

“Hello, lovely. So you’ll have The Jelly Bean, I take it?”

I flashed him my grin in response. His English was superb, but that accent had me squirming in my seat. Why yes, hot Rhodes waiter. I will have whatever sweet thing you’re offering.

Out loud I said, “Yes please!”

Behind his shoulder, Sia shook her head with another eye roll.

“I’ll have a beer.”

“No problem.” He went inside to fetch our drinks, and my jaw fell open.

“Oh hell-oh,” I said.

“Here we go…” Sia muttered.

See, I admit, vacation sex is my thing. It’s not intentional, but it happens. Foreigners rock my world, and there’s something magical about meeting a man in another country and living a brief romance with him—and don’t get me started on an accent talking dirty in my ear while I’m fucking. I guess for me it’s when in Rome, do a Roman…or something like that. There was the make-out with the Floridean on our Hawaii trip, the beach sex with the Dutchman in Aruba, the park romp with the Roman in Italy, the virginity-shattering of the Croatian in Rovinj, and the sensual island sex with the Texan in Puerto Rico. And of course, I’d already given that bar manager a blow job in the kitchen a few days ago, right before he bent me over one of the tables and then took me skinny dipping in the sea…

But the whole encounter had ended with him being a tremendous ass, so now I needed a better memory. I’d made it two weeks of our vacation through Athens, Ios, and Santorini without a hint of play, and we had only four more days for me to amend my vacation fling, dammit.

Hot Rhodes waiter came back with Sia’s beer and my blue and red glass of wonder. The Jelly Bean, you see, is a concoction of curaçao, grenadine, lemonade, and ouzo, and it tastes exactly like it sounds. I took a sip while they watched, the cool, candy-sweet taste washing down my throat as we sat in the unbelievably torrid, muggy air.

Our waiter grinned again.

“So where are you girls from?”

“San Francisco,” we chimed.

“Wow. San Francisco! We usually only get visitors from the east coast this far over. You two came a long way!”

“We did,” I said. “We wanted the full Greek tour.”

Sia gave me a look, but we made small talk with him for another twenty minutes because the place wasn’t busy midafternoon. Nikolaos—that was his name, and damn, even that fabulously Greek moniker stirred my blood—seemed tickled by his California customers. By the time I’d downed half my second Jelly Bean while devouring my Greek salad and a side of dolmas, we’d already started flirting hard. Sia, the perfect wing woman, laughed and played along, but it was on the way back from the ladies’ room that Nikolaos grabbed my hand and backed me against a wall.

“You’ve got a smile like some American actress…I can’t remember her name. But oh,” he said, looking me over, “you’re beautiful.”

Well, shit, handsome. Take me home now.

“Thank you,” I said. “You’re damn sexy yourself.”

“What are you girls doing later? I work late tonight, but you should come for dinner…”

Which is precisely what we did.

Greek dinners, for those who don’t know, happen mighty late. Sia and I had explored half the area by 10 that night and still had time to head back to our hotel for a nap and shower. It was so blazing hot—in fact, this was the year that Athens caught fire, 2007—that we lived in a layer of sweat from the second we left the shower until the moment we crawled our way back in. This meant we returned to the deli restaurant sweaty all over again, despite a good hour of freshening and dolling ourselves up. But, Nikolaos didn’t seem to mind. Not through dinner as we chowed on gyros and more drinks (Jelly Beans for me, of course), and talked to his friends who had joined the hang out. Not when Sia wandered off with some adorable Australian and a promise to meet me back at the hotel in a few hours.

And definitely not when Nikolaos talked me onto his moped and took me back to his apartment.

The place was a wreck, but I was all eyes-on-Nikolaos. He could have been a model, some Greek beauty blessing the pages of a magazine I would surely take home as a souvenir. However, I had better things in mind for this guy, and by the feel of his cock rising up between us, it was obvious he did too.

Nikolaos pulled me into his chest when the door shut behind us. He ran his fingers up my cheek, then stroked his hand through my hair. When he rolled his pelvis up against me, I let out a quiet purr only because I’d had three Jelly Beans and I wasn’t sure if I was coming off louder than I thought.

“You’re an aggressive little thing,” he said.

“I am.”

“And you almost look Greek.”

“But I’m not.”

“Are you sure you’re not a Greek-American actress? You look like an actress. And your Greek is fantastic.”

“I’m totally not. I just have a good tongue.”

That might have been the Jelly Beans talking, but Nikolaos took the bait. He leaned down and kissed me then.

And yeah. We were all tongues.

Tongues, fingers, hands, lips—we were naked and rolling around on the bed in no time. Nikolaos, it turned out, looked like a model from head to toe, and I, apparently, was his favorite shape. He spent several minutes running his hands up and down my body with heavy inhalations that made his nostrils flare, then he buried those fingers so deep in my cunt and his tongue so furiously against my clit that my Jelly Bean fueled groans had to have woken his neighbors.

“I’ve never fucked a Californian,” he growled.

“Perfect. I’ve never fucked a hot waiter from Rhodes.”

Our lips sealed back together when he frantically searched his nightstand for a condom. I barely noticed him putting it on, because moments later he plunged inside me, hard and filling, his hands gripping at my breasts and his cheeks so bright.

“Your smile…” he moaned. “It’s like fucking a celebrity…”

This somehow turned me on more. So as Nikolaos thrust in me, bit at my shoulder, nipped at my lips, and groaned in my ear—I writhed with wild calls that were twice as loud thanks to all those Jelly Beans. My body quaked with excitement as he pushed faster and deeper, and when he erupted with a grunt and I hadn’t yet come, he was right back down between my thighs lapping at me until I shuddered with cries that put everything before them to shame.

I remember thinking as we lay there—Nikolaos panting against my thigh, me trying to catch my breath, inhaling the smell of musty sex and dirty room and Greek humidity—that vacation sex was, even when terrible, awfully fun. I’m not one for notches on a bedpost, but maybe a map to mark my foreign conquests might make for a good chuckle.

Nikolaos slid up along my body, planting kisses over my face and tracing the circumference of my nipple with a fingertip.

“So you leave in four days?” he said.

“Yep. Four more days.”

“Hmmm.” He ran his fingers down my stomach, then slipped them between the sensitive, pink lips of my pussy. “Maybe you and your friend can come back to the deli tonight for dinner again…and have another Jelly Bean.”

“Oh. For a Jelly Bean, huh?”

Nikolaos gave me a quick kiss, and when he leaned back, he nodded with a grin.

“I just might,” I said.

I always have liked sweet things.

***

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As for me…I think it’s time for another drink…

Jade Discovering The Jelly Bean While Visiting Rhodes

Jade discovering The Jelly Bean while on vacation in Rhodes, Greece…this may have been her second round. (Third?)

Hiccup.

XX,
Jade