Category Archives: News

KoJo Black and Sweetmeats Press Offer a Feast for the Eyes Part 2

KD: It’s my pleasure to welcome back Sweetmeats Press’s KoJo Black, who is preparing, along with us authors, for next Saturday’s deliciously nasty feast for the ears reading from Sweetmeats Press’s hot new feast for the eyes, Immoral Views. All happening at Sh! Portobello. More about that a little later. In the meantime, welcome back KoJo!

KD: As an editor and a writer of erotica, what makes for truly good erotica? What’s really sexy?

KoJo: Immersion.  I love that word.  And I think it’s so suitable for erotica.  In erotica of any kind, I think the ultimate aim is for the characters to become immersed in each other – both physically and metaphysically.  Furthermore, good erotica (and any good story, for that matter) should also immerse the reader within it.

KD: Is there a difference between porn and erotica? If so what? If not, why not?

KoJo: I think that the difference between ‘pornography’ and ‘erotica’ is purely semantic (rather than fundamental). You can have pornographic erotica, just as you can have erotic pornography.  It has become acceptable to say that women like erotica and men like porn. Whereas, if there is any difference between porn and erotica, I think it is more a question of how we access the triggers in our brains.

I believe it is true that, over the millions of years of our evolution, male and female brains are hardwired differently.  But I think the sensations and fulfillment that a woman takes from erotica are not entirely dissimilar from what a man takes from porn.  And, as such, I think that erotica with the right triggers could just as easily appeal to a man; just as porn with the right triggers could easily appeal to a woman.  Our mental programming is more fluid than we think.  So it’s very limiting to allow the definition of two words to dictate how we receive and enjoy sensual and sexual stimuli….regardless of our gender.

KD: Any predictions for the future of erotica?

KoJo: I don’t know what the future of erotica holds.  But if it’s as fun and free and as full of expression as it’s been so far, I only want more!

KD: What are your future plans for Sweetmeats Press?

KoJo: Well, first and foremost, I aim to continue whisking up hot, delectable erotic treats for some time to come.  Within that, Sweetmeats Press will diversify into sexy graphic novels, as well as providing a platform for our very talented erotic artists to showcase their work as independent pieces.  Aside from that, my time in erotic film has allowed me to meet some wonderful erotic performers – who have some equally wonderful tales to tell.  I aim to make their biographies part of the Sweetmeats title list.

KD: What’s the best advice you would give writers of hawt stuff?

KoJo: Over the years, as I’ve taken on writing, editing, and ultimately publishing, I’ve actually been able to give quite a lot of thought to what makes a story…..aheem…..‘hawt’.

Firstly, it’s important to remember that our biggest and best sexual organ is our brain.  You want to excite and entice your readers.  So absolutely make your story sexy.  But take time to create the story, build the lust, and put your reader into the space.  Once you’ve set the scene and enticed them in, your readers will be so much more receptive to all the sensual and sexual treats you lay on for them.  But if you go straight in to grating, grunting, grinding frottage, you run the risk of leaving your readers cold…..before they’ve even warmed up!

This of course does not mean that every story needs to kick off with a long-winded soliloquy.  Just take a moment to welcome your readers in before basting them in pure filth.  Perhaps think of your story as way of describing a film that’s playing in your head.  For example, if you show someone a repetitive video of some genitals slapping together, your viewer will become bored very quickly.  Whose genitals are they?  Why are they fucking?  Are they even enjoying themselves?

But if you take the time to develop your story, even just a little bit, you are suddenly bringing that film in your head to life.  From seductions to abductions; sensual solo pleasures to gloriously debauched gangbangs; boy-girl vanilla sex to the most piquant and depraved amalgamations you can imagine; from the most mundane of quickies to the forbidden lust of fairies and giants in mythical landscapes.  Take a moment to build your story.  Tell us, why do these people want each other?  Need each other?  How did they get there?  Engage the mind, and the flesh will follow!

Secondly, I find it helps to write with the voice that you know.  That is to say, tell the story from a perspective that is comfortable for you.  If you are, for example, a young straight woman, you may find it easier to write your story in the voice of a young, straight woman.  There is certainly nothing precluding you from telling your story from the perspective of a middle-aged, lesbian dominatrix.  But, before you do, make sure you can find that voice, make sure it’s accurate, and make sure you can believe it.  Because if you don’t believe it, we won’t either.

Third, don’t be afraid to get horny!  The first person your erotic story should turn on is you!  There’s nothing wrong with getting that delicious feeling of satisfaction down below as you tell your tale.  And if it’s working on you, there’s every chance it will have the same effect on someone else!

And finally – Read!  Not just erotica, but everything.  Look at how different people craft a story.  Figure out which writers you like, which writers you don’t, and why.  Borrow techniques.  Remember the stories that keep you gripped to the very end, page after page.  And see if you can’t put some of that tension, excitement and engagement into your own work.

Feast for the Eyes and Ears:

If you’d like to hear some of the hot erotica from the Immoral Views anthology read by the authors themselves, including yours truly  here’s your chance! Authors Kay Jaybee, Rebecca Bond, Lexie Bay, and K D Grace will be reading hot, voyeuristic smut from this fabulous anthology, their own, and that of Lucy Felthouse as well. Not to be missed!

Where: Sh! Women’s Erotic Emporium, Portobello Store.

When: Saturday 21 January  6:30 for 7:00 pm start.

For more information: Sh! Portobello

Space is limited, RSVP soon!

 

KoJo Black and Sweetmeats Press Offer a Feast for the Eyes Part 1

KD: I recently had the pleasure of writing a story for the yummy new Sweetmeats anthology, Immoral Views. Immoral Views is not only a fabulous feast of voyeuristic erotica, but it’s even more of a treat for the eyes because it’s illustrated, very naughtily, by the talented Florian Meacci. Filthy stories with equally filthy illustrations are the brainchild of Sweetmeat Press’s captain of naughtiness, KoJo Black, who titillated me with so much delicious info in this interview that I’m only going to share the first half with you today. Come back Sunday for further titillation. Welcome, KoJo!

KD: What would you most like people to know about KoJo Black?

KoJo: Like anyone, I suppose, I have many guises.  But as an author and a publisher, I am most proud of being an immodest, unrepentant and dissolute eroticist.  Thinking about it more, I must be what the French would call a ‘gourmand’.  This word doesn’t quite carry into English, where it simply means ‘greedy’.  I prefer the French definition – that of a person who loves to taste, savour, indulge and immerse.  I find myself describing so many things as delicious – words, people, places, sensations, food, experiences.  And it is this idea of finding and promoting the excitement, the deliciousness, in all things (with a stout and proud thrust toward the carnal) that I try to bring the books I write and publish.

And it was that ideology that brought the ‘Sweetmeats’ name into being.  This idea of whisking up deliciously debauched erotic treats for people to savour and share – that was with me from the very start.

KD: What I’m dying to know, KoJo, is what inspired Sweetmeats Press, and how did it come to be?

KoJo: Sweetmeats actually began as a film production company.  And the ethos with which I produced the films has carried through into the books.  When I began making films, I wanted to offer something that was a cut above the average porn emporium.  I think the lack of sensuality and connection in the world of porn serves to highlight how many pornographers are completely disconnected from erotica.  I was firmly convinced that porn not only could be erotic, it MUST be erotic.  Even then, the moving picture started with the written word.  Sweetmeats Press has simply allowed me to re-indulge in the written word.  And, with a nod to the films, the Sweetmeats books are, as you know, beautifully illustrated.

Frankly, I think I’ve always been somewhat sex-obsessed.  And some of my earliest and most delightful sexual memories involve the spoken or written word.  As a youngster, I remember being forbidden from watching cable access television in my family home.  Of course, I would always try to access the restricted channels in the hope of capitalising on a lapse in regulation, and catching just the curve of a buttock, or the pucker of a nipple.  One evening, the picture was completely scrambled, but the sound was crystal clear.  The film featured a woman re-enacting lascivious acts during a phone call to her lover.  I couldn’t see a thing.  But the female voice, heavily baited with lust, along with my total inability to see what was happening, created a voyeuristic effect that was more exciting and erotic than the actual film.

At around the same time, erotic literature provided some of my earliest sexual arousal.  I remember, as a schoolboy, scuttling home with a contraband Penthouse magazine in my book bag, and letting the stories in the Forum give me hours of pleasure.  Then, slightly older, I remember being amazed and enthralled at the raw, sensual power of Anaïs Nin’s The Delta Of Venus, Henry Miller’s Sexus or The Story Of O.  Not only did I find the stories themselves extremely sexual and erotic, but I also reveled in the naughtiness of reading something so brazenly explicit — especially something written at a time when so much was forbidden and restricted.  So perhaps it was a childhood ambition to follow in the perverted footsteps of my heroes!

KD: Immoral Views is a collection of stories written around the theme of voyeurism. Do you consider yourself a voyeur? If so, do I dare ask for one of your ‘eye-sex’ encounters???

KoJo: I am a complete voyeur!  I’ve said in the intro to ‘Immoral Views’: “I like to watch people doing sexy things – sometimes to themselves, sometimes to each other.  And I know I’m not alone….”  I wasn’t just making that up.  It’s entirely true.  And it’s also true that I know I’m not the only one who likes to watch.  One struggles so hard to maintain an air of appropriate decorum throughout the day.  It is wonderful to slip into the pages of a book (either as a reader or a writer) and proudly raise one’s pennant of perversion!

In answer to your ‘eye-sex’ question, one incident does indeed stand out.  A few years ago, I was relaxing in a cliff-top bar on a small island in Thailand.  On the beach below, a beautiful woman was bathing in the sea.  And she was completely naked, save for the flimsiest little scrap of fabric on her bottom half.  When it comes to the human body, Thailand is a rather conservative place.  Thais aren’t even big on public displays of affection, so public near-nudity is a definite no-no.  But this woman was western, so perhaps she was unaware of the protocol.

In any event, the woman emerged from the sea like a siren, water cascading from her lithe, soft body as the sunlight glittered on her skin.  Her hair clung sleek and heavy even as she smoothed it back into place, and her bare breasts, round and proud in the warm saline air, moved gently as she walked.

For me, there was so much more to this moment than simply seeing a beautiful naked woman.  The fact that I could see her, but she could not see me.  I felt rude and intrusive, but I did not want to stop looking.  She was such a natural being, at one with her element.  And yet her quite innocent actions had the effect of filling me with the (equally natural) feelings of euphoria, longing and desire.  And then there was the unexpected, illicit thrill of seeing someone so naked and free in a place where nudity was generally considered to be unseemly.

Of course, shortly thereafter, I was joined by an obstinacy of my compatriots who immediately began jostling and competing for a better view.  Even at a distance, there is only so long a woman can ignore a veranda groaning under the weight of half a dozen geezers all trying to look inconspicuous.  She became self-conscious, covered her breasts, and withdrew to the shelter of the rocks.

But the moment in which it was just the two of us has stayed with me for a long time.  And the feeling of that moment ultimately inspired the story “Buoyancy,” published in the book “Sun Strokes”.

KD: Of the five senses, do you think the eyes really have it, as far as sex goes, or do you think one of the other five senses is the dark horse of sensual pleasure?

KoJo: The eyes, most often, are where the attraction begins.  They are where another person enters you for the first time.  But sex is so much more.  And all our glorious, firing, pulsing senses of touch, hearing, smell and taste all serve to turn that visual desire into unrepentant lust!

KD: KoJo will be back Sunday with Part 2 of this interview. I don’t know about you, but I can hardly wait!

Feast for the Eyes and Ears:

If you’d like to hear some of the hot erotica from the Immoral Views anthology read by the authors themselves, including yours truly  here’s your chance! Authors Kay Jaybee, Rebecca Bond, Lexie Bay, and K D Grace will be reading hot, voyeuristic smut from this fabulous anthology, their own, and that of Lucy Felthouse as well. Not to be missed!

Where: Sh! Women’s Erotic Emporium, Portobello Store.

When: Saturday 21 January  6:30 for 7:00 pm start.

For more information: Sh! Portobello

Space is limited, RSVP soon!

 

Happy Birthday, Fannying Around!

Happy Birthday Fannying Around! Yes, Thursday night was the big one year birthday bash in London at Sh! Erotic Women’s Emporium, Hoxton. Fannying Around is the brainchild of the vivacious and multi-talented Sarah Berry. Perhaps it’s more accurate to say that Fannying Around is her heartchild. Certainly no one could ever doubt that for Sarah, Fannying Around was a labour of love. This quote from Sarah on the official Fannies Rule website explains how Fannying Around came to be the talk of the town in London.

I first came up with the idea for the group when I was a teenager. I couldn’t have sex, I didn’t know why but I dreamed of a place I could talk freely about my problem. Every time I tried to insert anything into my fanny be it a finger, tampon, cock or courgette, I started to panic. I couldn’t tell anyone and suffering in silence led to clinical depression.When I was 21, my then boyfriend marched me to the Family Planning Clinic. Not long after I got diagnosed with vaginismus. This is a condition where the brain tells the pelvic muscles to contract when anything is inserted. 

Over the next decade, with a lot of therapy, vodka, prescription drugs, all sorts of encounters – both shameful and respectful – my fanny began to open and I was finally able to discuss it with others.Turns out ladies have a lot to say about their fannies and as soon as people started sharing all that was normal to them, I realised how individual they all are. They are mysterious, stubborn, on fire, loose, exciting, hairy, sexy, stubbly, oozing, bloody, wet, dry, lippy, asymmetrical, fabulous and more. 

Thursday night, Sarah, dressed in sparkles and a top hat, and surrounded by myriad fanniers led the celebration of a whole year of women filling the Sh! basement to nearly bursting to talk about their fannies, make new friends, and celebrate being women.

I felt especially happy to be a part of the celebration, as I was one of the original fanniers who nearly overflowed the basement at Sh!, Portobello on a cold December night a year ago. I remember that night we all introduced ourselves by saying, ‘My name is … And my fanny is…’ The introduction was optional, and no one had to say anything if they weren’t comfortable. ‘My name is… And my fanny is…’ has become the traditional opening ice breaker for every Fannying Around meeting since, an icebreaker that has sparked a good many fascinating conversations. That first night discussion was lively, raunchy, frank, sometimes funny, often poignant, and in the year since, that has continued to be the case at the Fannying Around meetings.

That first night, the lovely manager of Sh!, Renee Denyer, brought out Rosy, the fanny puppet for a little fannatomy lesson. Since that first meeting, there have been tantric teachers, there have been midwives, there have been porn stars, there have been poets and therapists and performers and writers and fabulous women, so many fabulous women, women who I’m now happy to call my friends. And there is now a website, there have been field trips and a casting party and Private Pictures and Muffember and interviews and … Well the list goes on!

Thursday night was a celebration of all things fanny, complete with a special fannytail created by the London Cocktail Society especially for the event, mixed and served up with a smile by the lovely Katie. There were yummy, beautiful c*nt cakes made by the scrumptious Rubyyy Jones. After all, it was a birthday party. And what’s a birthday party without cake? And for this special occasion, and for the first time ever, men were invited to Fanny Club to help celebrate everything fanny. I did notice they all seemed to be having a great time.

The evening was celebrated in poetry performed by the fabulous Annie Player, the sultry Cathy Flower, and Fannying Around’s very own poet in residence, Mel Jones. I felt extremely honoured to have been asked to read from my very fanny-centric story, Muscle Bound. I think most people would agree that outrageously funny comedienne, Janice Phayre, stole the show when she donned her knitted fanny costume and enticed the audience into a chorus of the old Carpenter’s song, Close to You.

As always the lovely Sh! Ladiez host the very best parties. For the past year Sh! has provided a warm, welcoming place for Fannying Around to meet, and I know I speak for everyone when I say how much fun it is just to be there. There was plenty of time to shop and browse and chat and reminisce with other fanniers about all that this year has brought and what we hope will happen before we all gather together next December to celebrate year two. All the while the beautiful Sarah Berry, in her top hat, sparkled. …And so did her dress.

 

Body Temperature and Rising, the Long Way Around

Body Temperature and Rising, volume one of my Lakeland Heatwave Trilogy, is now available in all ebook formats with most major distributors. It will be available in print in February. After a very strange, circuitous journey to completion, I’m very excited to be able to share my first ever paranormal erotic romance with the world.

Body Temperature and Rising didn’t start out to be a trilogy. In fact, it started out, three Novembers ago, as my first effort to write a novel in a month for National Novel Writing Month. (NaNoWriMo). During November, National Novel Writing Month, people everywhere of all ages from all walks of life attempt to write a novel in one month. For me, not only was it my first attempt to write a novel in a month, but it was my first ever attempt to write an erotic novel.

Considering the way it all began, Body Temperature and Rising could hardly have been anything BUT paranormal. My good friend Helen Callaghan and I decided to get the first day of our NaNoWriMo experience off to a good start by driving to Avebury to write at the pub there.

Avebury is a village set in the middle of the biggest Neolithic stone circle in Europe, a stone circle 500 years older than the Pyramids.

The Red Lion Inn. Taken on a much nicer, much less haunted day.

Because the stones are much easier than Stonehenge to access, and there is no charge, Avebury has become a gathering place for modern Pagans and other New Age folks. And our timing was perfect, as it was the day after the old Celtic holiday of Samhain and even in spite of the torrential downpour that we arrived in, we found ourselves surrounded by druids, witches, wiccans and all manner of Pagans celebrating what is essentially Celtic New Year. The people watching was fabulous, even with the drowned-rat effect.

Never mind that, Helen and I were there to write, so after a scuppered attempt at an inspiring walk in the wind and rain, we settled in at the Red Lion Inn, right in the centre of the stone circle. This 16th Century pub proudly boasts the reputation of being ‘the most haunted pub in England.’

It didn’t take us long to get pulled into the writing, so after lunch we wrote our way through numerous coffees and pots of tea, watching the super-saturated Pagans come and go in the pouring rains. There was a fire in the fireplace, and we were both in the zone.

By late afternoon, sharing leftover Halloween candy across the table while the Muse whispered in our ears the pub was nearly. Suddenly there was an enormous banging sound, like doors slamming. It seemed to be coming from the hall that led to the restroom behind us. The space that had felt toasty warm all at once felt chilled, and we were both shivering. Seconds later, one of the wait staff came running back to the restrooms looking very panicked and very pale. From behind the bar to the kitchen we heard murmurs and nervous laughter. We overheard mentions of the ghost, followed by more murmurs and mentions of supernatural phenomena when the volunteer returned unscathed to join the rest of the staff cowering behind the bar. And then the room was warm again. Helen and I ate more sweets, ordered another pot of tea and discussed our near-brush with the supernatural. Then we kept writing.

One of the Avebury stones on a nice day.

It was only as dark settled and the rain hadn’t let up even a little bit that we remembered two things. We weren’t parked in the pub car park, but in the National Trust car park on the other side of the village, a car park that closed at dark.

We quickly gathered our belongings and made a run for it, trying to hold umbrellas to protect us from horizontal rain, and struggling to see our way on the tiny, unlit path back to the car park, illuminated only by the pale green light of Helen’s mobile phone. With boots full of water and a banged knee from the metal fence post I ran into, we finally arrived at the Car Park to find it deserted except for Helen’s car, and thankfully for the National Trust Land Rover parked by the gate with a lovely NT employee waiting patiently to let us out.

Oh, and that intsy-weentsy little second thing we’d forgotten about… We’d been so busy talking on the way over to Avebury that we’d forgotten to get petrol for the car, and we were running on fumes. Avebury has a pub, several tourist shops and a post office. No garage. The next town of any size up the deserted highway was Marlborough. Everyone with any common sense was long since inside out of the horrid weather. It felt like we were the only people on the planet. We were only fifteen miles from Marlborough, but we weren’t sure we were even going to get to when we realized the Kennet River, which usually runs under the road was now running OVER the road. Thinking only of the fumes quickly dissipating in the petrol tank, we ploughed through the raging waters of the Kennet and continued on our way, a thought which still gives me a chill when I think what might have happened crossing a flooded river as we did. But only a few miles up the road, looking like the gates to paradise was a small Murco station. And it was open! We were saved! Thus began Lakeland Heatwave: Body Temperature and Rising, which at that time was called ‘Love Spell.’

During the month that I wrote BTR, a time when I already had a very full writing plate on top of the novel-in-a-month plan, the paranormal experience continued as I was magically transformed into The Bitch

Research is hard work

from Hell, a creature so unpredictable, so terrifying, so vile that only my husband, Raymond the Brave, could successfully handle being in her presence for long periods of time. The man has permanent psychological scars from that infamous November, I have no doubt.

In the meantime, I got trapped in the Eurostar Tunnel and The Initiation of Ms Holly was born, followed by The Pet Shop while BTR languished tucked away in my computer as a Word file. I just wasn’t confident enough to attempt anything paranormal. Then, maybe it was the influence of the Avebury Ghost, but I decided to propose Body Temperature and Rising to Xcite, knowing that it would need a lot of reworking because I had grown a lot as a writer. Once Xcite accepted my proposal, I found myself totally unable to continue with the rewrite. Every attempt felt like a false start, every effort felt like it wasn’t right somehow.

Just when I was about to lose heart, I took a long walk and realized that if it were going work as I envisioned it, Lakeland Heatwave would have to be a trilogy. Xcite went for the proposal and from that point on, the ghosts and witches practically wrote the story for me.

Of course with the action set in the Lake District and the first chapters set in a bad storm on the fells and in a slate mine shaft, I was forced to make several research trips to the Lakes. How I suffer for my art! I have no doubt I’ll need to do much such suffering as the Lakeland Heatwave Trilogy unfolds.

Body Temperature and Rising will be available in print in February 2012, and as is the happy tradition, will be celebrated with wild partying and raunchy reading at Sh! Hoxton.

Blurb:

American transplant to the Lake District, MARIE WARREN, didn’t know she could unleash demons and enflesh ghosts until a voyeuristic encounter on the fells ends in sex with the charming ghost, ANDERSON and night visits from a demon. To help her cope with her embarrassing and dangerous new abilities, Anderson brings her to the ELEMENTALS, a coven of witches who practice rare sex magic that temporarily allowsghosts access to the pleasures of the flesh.

DEACON, the demon Marie has unleashed, holds an ancient grudge against TARA STONE, coven high priestess, and will stop at nothing to destroy all she holds dear. Marie and her landlord, the reluctant young farmer, TIM MERIWETHER, are at the top of his list. Marie and Tim must learn to wield coven magic and the numinous power of their lust to stop Deacon’s bloody rampage before the coven is torn apart and more innocent people die.

Dale Head. The sight Marie would have seen without the mist.

Excerpt:

‘First you treat me like I don’t exist, then you go all big brother on me like I’m too delicate and soft-brained to take care of myself. Well I have news for you, Tim Meriwether, I was taking care of myself for a long time before you decided I needed looking after.’ She shoved again, and this time he grabbed her with such force that she felt the bones in her neck pop.

With her forward momentum, he stumbled over an uneven paving stone, lost his footing and went over backward into a manger full of fresh hay, pulling her on top of him.

Before she could shove and claw her way to her feet, He grabbed her around the waist and rolled, pinning her beneath the weight of his body. He gave her no time to think about it, but pulled her into a bruising kiss, forcing her lips apart, probing her hard pallet with his dexterous tongue, biting her lower lip before he came up fighting for the breath to speak. ‘I think about you a lot, Marie,’ His chest rose and fell in hungry gasps. ‘But I promise you, none of those thoughts were even remotely brotherly.’

She bucked underneath him and clawed at his shirt. ‘Then do something about it, damn it, and stop toying with me.’ Several buttons popped and flew across the stable floor. He forced her legs apart with his knee, moving it up to rub against the crotch of her jeans. She shoved his shirt open and arched up to him as he pushed her t-shirt up and manoeuvred and tugged, forcing her breasts free from her bra into his spayed hands and hungry lips.

She fumbles with the fly of his jeans, sliding an anxious hand into his boxers. He huffed a breathless grunt, and the muscles low in his stomach tense as she closed her fingers around his engorged penis and began to stroke.

He had just began the anxious efforts with her own fly when suddenly the stable door slammed shut, and the light bulb overhead exploded in a shower of fine glass plunging the two into total darkness.

Marie yelped, and Tim cursed. As they fought their way to their feet, the mare screamed, and they could hear her struggling.

Tim vaulted over the manger’s edge seconds before Marie, calling back to her. ‘Get the door. Get it open.’

Struggling to secure her jeans with one hand, Marie felt her way along the perimeter of the stable toward the door. The relief was short-lived when her fingers closed around the handle, and it wouldn’t budge.

‘It’s locked,’ she shouted above the desperate cries of the mare.

‘What do you mean, it’s locked,’ Tim shouted back. ‘It doesn’t have a lock. It’ can’t be locked.’

‘I’m telling you it won’t open,’ she yelled back, feeling an icy chill blasting her from behind. With one final tug, the door gave and she tumbled backward on her ass. The sharp knife edge of light that shot through the darkness was blinding, like a flashbulb going off, leaving a deep bruised after image dancing in front of her face, an after image of Deacon.

She cried out and crab walked backward, as he stepped toward her, unfurling his bullwhip, in what seemed like endless slow motion.

 

Erotica: Bathtubs, Bearlesque, and Books!

Prologue (How a simple photo essay evolved into a tome in just a day and a half!)

Breakfast at the Ritz-ette-ish, well you get the idea!

I started what was supposed to be an easy little photo essay on the blurry-eyed morning of Day Three of Erotica with Raymond wandering around in our enormous kitchen making very much-needed coffee. I had planned to blog every day, and my Friday blog had gone out without a hitch and relatively little cursing on my part –

Where all the action is. The Xcite stand.

relatively little, so I was expecting happy trails. Well, there were a few technical hitches along the way, and a bit of name-calling (me to the computer) so you get the end result the day after, much expanded, quickly written, and not at all like I’d intended, but it’s an adventure! And so it was!

Saturday: Erotica, Day Two.

Day two began with a wait for the special tube train that delivers people to the Olympia Convention Centre at

Victoria Blisse, Lucy Felthouse, and yours truly showing off our babies at the Xcite stand

regular intervals. It was great to be stood in the brisk morning chill among the folks clad in PVC and leather, gorgeous burlesquish style costumes, leashes, collars, thigh-high boots! It was a people watcher’s paradise, and one in which the people were actually happy to BE watched.

When we arrived, Raymond and I had a quick wander about amid the dungeon furnishings, fake mammaries, corsets, leather, riding crops and scantily clad women piled in a bathtub. (I’ll get back to them later, because we certainly did get back to them later!)  Then there was the gentleman who kept asking if he could polish my boots…

The fabulous Sarah Berry doing...er... lip service...

After a wander about and a quick visit to the Xcite Stand, we were off to the first Xcite event of the day, the Reading Slam, MC’ed by the fabulous Liz Coldwell. Besides yours truly, readers included Victoria Blisse, Lucy Felthouse, Kay Jaybee, blogger, Georgia McCrae and for the first time ever, in front of a live audience, Lexie Bay, who acquitted herself very well, indeed! Each of the readings lasted only five minutes, but that made for an hour of sizzling heat. I think it was probably a very good thing that the

Reading a slopy, naughty breakfast with Tino

room was cold when we arrived. And the chairs must have been really uncomfortable because there was a lot of shifting around in them as the readings progressed. I certainly found the room seemed hotter and hotter as the hour progressed.

There were lots of photo ops, and we advantage! Of course there had to be the traditional photo in front of the Erotica Wall. I am sure that will become a tradition. Kay Jaybee and I had our picture taken a year ago standing there together at our first ever Erotica, and now we were back. What a difference a year makes! Now our circle of fab writing friends had expanded, so we took our photo op in front of the wall, Lucy Felthouse, Lexie Bay, Rebecca Bond, Kay Jaybee and me. There are lots of others we wish could have joined us there. But next year’s coming!

Up against the Wall. Lucy Felthouse, Lexie Bay, Rebecca Bond, Victoria Blisse, K D Grace, Kay Jaybee

We managed a quick lunch in the food court, With the Blisses, the Bays, Lucy Felthouse and her lovely Ian, Kay Jaybee and the lovely Rebecca Bond. I’m not sure what I ate. I was too busy watching. PVC was in abundance as were well displayed breasts, males in very tiny underwear only, people on leashes and even a few people in diapers. Oh yes, Erotica is a people watching paradise. It’s nice to be able to blatantly stare and have people only look at you and smile — sometimes politely, sometimes wolfishly. But all in good fun.

Kay Jaybee and me

Surrounded by smutters, as I was, I could almost hear the wheels of creativity turning in their lovely heads, as they were in my own. I have no doubt there will be stories.

After a nibble and a good look-see, we headed off to the panel, chaired by Jane Wenham-Jones. The panel included Kay Jaybee, Lucy Felthouse, Victoria Bliss and Kitti Bernetti, all Xcite writers extraordinaire. Jane asked fantastic questions about what it’s like to be an erotic author, and there was good participation from the audience as well – many of whom followed us over to the Xcite stand afterward where lots of books were sold and signed by the authors.

By seven, the crowd was beginning to dissipate from

On the Xcite stand busy selling books

around the stand, and it came to the part I hate most, saying good-bye to all of my smutter friends who I only get to see on occasions like Erotica. I adore Facebook, Twitter and email mostly because it keeps me in touch with these fabulous, talented ladies and their wonderfully supportive other halfs (halves??).

Me at the Wall! When all the good-byes were said and the Xcite stand was shut up for the night, Hazel Cushion, Xcite’s fearless leader, invited Raymond and me to join her, the adorable Matt Peterson, who does internet marketing for Xcite, Peter Newsom, Accent Press’s amazing sales director and his lovely wife, Sheilah and the fabulous Jane Wenham-Jones for dinner. It didn’t seem at all strange sitting in Pizza Express putting away masses of wine, pizza and nibbles, talking about sex, erotica and writing erotica and… well sex… when the people at the neighbouring tables were dressed in cat suits, devil tails and horns and crotch-high boots. Fabulously interesting company we keep! The folks at our table might have all looked rather ordinary, but that just goes to show looks can be deceiving.

Afterwards, back in our tiny mansion, we did manage to get pictures downloaded before total collapse into sleep-deprived oblivion.

Sunday: Erotica, Day 3

Madame Grumpy Bear got a whole lot happier after long-suffering hubby brought her a second cup of coffee. Techno-problems

Couldn't resist the tail shot. No! NOT an Xcite author!

brought on by lack of sleep a sudden, but not unusual outbreak of techno-duncism meant that my grandiose plans of a blog post every day of Erotica wasn’t going to happen. A little pout, a hot shower, a bit of slap (that’s slang for make-up… not spanking…) and the scary beast became tame enough to take out into public. Raymond is good with scary beasts.

The panel. Liz Coldwell, Maxim Jakubowski, Jane Wenham-Jones, Toni Sands, K D Grace

The day started out a little quieter. No doubt everyone was having a Sunday lie-in before donning the nosebleed stilettos and corsets and heading on over to Erotica. It gave Raymond and me a chance to look around before the panel started. We caught a performance by the Dream Boys in the gallery, and browsed through some of the fabulous erotic art, which was also displayed in the gallery.

Then it was time for the panel. Today was my day. I was on the panel with Liz Coldwell, Toni Sands and Maxim Jakubowski. Again, the vivacious Jane Wenham-Jones chaired the panel, and there was a lively

The Dream Boys play with fire

discussion, albeit a smaller audience than the day before, about the quality of internet erotica as opposed to print erotica, what made good erotica and what inspired us to write. Afterwards we all went back at the stand to sign books and answer questions.

Looking down from the Gallery

There were more readings in the afternoon, and when we were finished it was back to the stand for more signings and chats with customers. This was prime time. The books were practically flying out of the spinners. It was exciting to sign books and even on the odd occasion, have the person buying Holly or Pets – sometime both, want a photo op with the author. Good for the ego? You betcha!

When there was a bit of a lull in the book selling action, we slipped across to the main stage to watch Dance Seduction, and all I can say is wow! Sex on the dance floor. Exquisitely beautiful and hotter than hot, especially the fabulous, heart-stopping m/m dance next to the finale. It was not only hot, sexy and gorgeous, but deeply moving as well.

And there were other fabulous stars out and about too. I think one of the highlights of my evening was when

Kittens prrrrrfrrrr 'The Pet Shop'

Delores Deluxe stopped by the stand, saw Pets on the spinner and said to Dave, the Cub (more about the fabulous Dave in a bit) who was with her, ‘Oh I know her.’ Raymond happened to overhear and grabbed me. OMG! Delores Deluxe, burlesque goddess extraordinaire remembered mio! She and Dave invited us the LGBT stage in the gallery – the first year for an LGBT stage at Erotica, actually, but it definitely won’t be the last – for the performance, in which we get to see Dave’s arse. Well, I’m not one to turn down a chance to look at a great arse, am I? It was the last performance of the evening on the LGBT stage, and we were not about to miss it.

Dave, the Cub, in the chair that doesn't have Raymond in it;)

We had a bit of time before the performance, so we decided to go back and check out the hot chicks romping in the bathtub that I’d mentioned earlier. We’d only just made the connection that these lovelies and the whole exquisite set-up were a part of The House of Burlesque (we’re a little slow at times) I’m absolutely sure the highlight of Raymond’s evening was meeting the burlesque beauties, who very kindly did the honours of allowing us to photograph them reading ‘The Pet Shop,’ in and around their lovely claw foot bathtub. It was… well, best you just check out the piccies!

If the highlight of Raymond’s evening was photographing the lovelies from the House of Burlesque, the highlight of mine had to be when mid-song and dance, the very well-built, very delicious, scantily clad Dave the Cub came and sat right down on Raymond’s lap while belting it out. Sadly it all happened way too fast for me to get a photo, but it definitely is permanently stamped in my memory. The look on Raymond’s face — priceless! The show on the LGBT stage was one of the most fun parts of the weekend for us. The amazing combo of burlesque, bearlesque, and bawdy, yummy performances by Fancy Chance and Tranny Shack was high energy, outrageous and just flat out fun, all MCed by the fabulous Tempest Rose. We definitely returned to the Xcite stand with smiles on our faces.

By that time most of the people had gone; things were winding down. We said our good-byes to the Xcite folks, happy to see

Blatant self-promotion? You betcha! (with the help of the lovelies from The House of Burlesque)

very few copies of Holly or Pets remaining behind. Hazel assured us that she had already booked the spot for next year and planning and scheming was in the works. Then we caught the tube back to Waterloo and the train on home.

It was only when I got home, as is appropriate, that I got the cherry on the delicious Erotica cake, and it was in the form of this fabulous interview of Hazel by the folks at Erotica.The muchly appreciated shout-out for me starts at about 3:45.  My feet haven’t touched the ground since.

I feel like I’ve come away from this weekend having reconnected with old friends and celebrating with them their successes, while sharing and scheming our future projects and sharing what erotica is to us and what writing the story is to us. I feel that I’ve also come away from this weekend having made new friends and new connections, which is always an expansive, heady experience. As I think back to last year when Kay Jaybee and I spent a few happy hours at Erotica on a Saturday afternoon, I have to say it again. What a difference a year makes!

My Pets, misbehavin in very delicious company! (Thank you, House of Burlesque lovelies)