An Unexpected Encounter with Alonso Darlington: 3rd Entry

I first shared my little encounter with Alonso Darlington when the novella, Landscapes was published as a part of the wonderful m/m Brit Boys: On Boys boxed set. For those of you who’ve read my online serial, In The Flesh, Alonso is a familiar character, but his story starts long before In The Flesh. and Landscapes is his first public appearance and, one — as you’ll see from the tale I began to share with you two weeks ago, he isn’t overly happy about. I felt with the release of Landscapes as a stand-alone novella coming up very shortly, it might serve as a warning to all of you  who choose to delve into the private life of a vampire. I’m risking Alonso’s displeasure again by sharing the conclusion of this little encounter with the release of Landscapes, the novella, only days away on May 24.

 

Read and be warned

 

An Unexpected Encounter with Alonso Darlington: Entry 3

 

Landscapes The room was as silent as a tomb after Talia left. God, I didn’t want to think of that analogy, but there it was, popping up in my head, and me alone with the vampire I thought I’d created, but wasn’t at all sure I could trust. Ha! Me being Alonso’s maker! The humour was almost, but not quiet lost on me.

 

I could feel his gaze rather than see it. But then Alonso’s gaze was nearly as physical as his touch. When it moved over me, I felt as though every part of me had not only been touched, but completely left naked and exposed. I kept my eyes focused on my hands folded in my lap as though I were offering up a white-knuckled prayer. Maybe I was. I honestly don’t know. I do know that I was scared witless. I had absolutely no clue what was going on or what was the significance of the conversation that had passed between Talia and Alonso. I was still struggling to get my head round what had happened and the fact that something so brutal could have been arousing as well as terrifying.

 

After what seemed like ages, Alonso released a heavy breath and came around the desk. He leaned back on it looking down at me where I sat, still avoiding his gaze. ‘Are you a fan of mythology?’

 

His question startled me, and I looked up. ‘Yes, why?’

 

In a move so fast I missed it until I felt the electricity of his touch shoot down my spine, he knelt in front of me and took my face in his hands so that I couldn’t look away. ‘You often write … stories that involve mythology, witches, demons, things that can’t be easily explained.’

 

I struggled to catch my breath enough to reply. ‘I write all sorts of things. I have an active imagination, like you said.’

 

He made a sound at the back of his throat that was enough like a growl to make the hair on my neck rise. ‘Your active imagination conjures a lot of very dangerous people.’

 

My laugh sounded high pitched and thin, bouncing off the stone walls. ‘You make me sound like a witch or something.’

 

He didn’t smile. ‘Not a witch. Not exactly.’

 

I couldn’t hold back a shiver, but I caught myself quickly. ‘I write fiction. That’s all.’

 

He said nothing, only studied me until I closed my eyes to get away from his intense gaze. It was the warmth of his lips on mine that caused me to start, his electric touch playing over me like ripples on a pond. The room suddenly seemed tight, airless. I tried to get away from him, but he held me tight. ‘Perhaps she’ll allow you to believe that, but I doubt it.’

 

Before I could either panic or throw myself into his arms and offer up my neck, he stood and moved back behind the desk. ‘You’re free to go, K D. Talia will take you back to your room, and you have free run of the house for now.’ He gave a huff of a laugh. ‘There isn’t much you’ve not already seen, I suppose.’

 

He was right. It was an intuitive experience, finding my way around High View Manor. And it was uncanny that I should know the place so well, that it was the place I had created in my imagination for a story I’d written, and yet my creation was stone and wood all around me. I wandered the grounds when I felt claustrophobic inside the stone walls designed to keep a vampire safe from the northern sun – anemic in the winter and tireless in the summer. I wandered the grounds wrapped in the heavy jacket, which I found returned and hanging next to the wardrobe in my room, as if by magic.

 

S6300754I felt as though I’d fallen off the edge of the earth and ‘here be monsters.’ This was the Lake District! I loved the Lake District. My heart felt like it was home the first time I came here. But Lakeland is also a place full of magic and mystery. That the creations of my imagination should take shape in the reality of the waking world made me feel wrong-footed and not quite at home in my own skin. It was unsettling enough to see the world I had created in my head solid and stable all around me, but it was much more so to feel threatened by the flesh and blood people that until now I thought to be only characters in my imagination.

 

The sun was setting and I had just returned from a wander in Alonso’s garden, shivering from the cold wind that had gotten up some time in the afternoon, and had just been joined by gravy-thick mist. I heard voices in the day room, heard the mention of my name, and stopped short to listen.

 

‘If Talia didn’t put the story of our relationship in Ms. Grace’s head then who the hell did?’ I recognized Reese’s voice and stepped closer on tiptoes.

 

‘It’s better that you don’t know,’ came Alonso’s reply. ‘Our cat’s out of the bag, so to speak. That means she should have no further interest in us.’ Then he added as an afterthought. ‘Though I honestly don’t know why she would want our story shared. I’ve kept my distance from her, respected her boundaries, kept her secrets – what few I know of them. I’m no threat to her.’

 

‘You’re recently returned to Lakeland,’ Talia said. ‘Granted High View and the surrounding fells is all your land, and you keep a low profile, but you’re here, and she’ll want to know exactly why you’re here and what your plans are.’

 

‘If she’s told my story to the writer, then she already knows my motives and that I’m no threat to her.’

 

No threat to who? Who the hell was he talking about? I felt like little ant feet were crawling up my spine. Christ! If there were someone out there who Alonso feared, someone whose attention he wanted to avoid, what the hell would they want with me? I was scared enough of him. Whoever she was, I was pretty damned sure I wanted nothing do to with her. I was so lost in my thoughts that I nearly missed Alonso’s next statement with all its implications.

 

‘Anyone else who she brings to Ms Grace’s attention, well that’s not our problem, is it? And the less we know the better.’

 

Anyone she brings to my attention? They thought this she, whoever she was, had made me write Alonso’s story? I was beginning to get seriously creeped out.

 

‘She was in Vegas last spring, our dear Ms Grace. You know that, right?’ It was Talia’s voice I heard now, and I inched still closer to the open door holding my breath. ‘More jet-lagged than usual from what I understand. I wasn’t so concerned when she was there the year before. But last spring, Mr. Graves had … company.’

 

‘It’s not our concern, Talia.’ Alonso’s voice was tight and irritable. ‘Mr. Graves has nothing to do with us, and if the woman writes his story, if that’s why she was so jet lagged, then better Graves than us. And he can certainly take care of himself.’

 

‘That’s easy for you to say.’ Talia’s voice, though low and controlled, made gooseflesh prickle up my arm. ‘But Ms Grace is here in the Lakes often, and you’re not the only one who has secrets, Alonso.’

 

‘What do you want me to do, Talia? Hmm?’ If she’s chosen Ms Grace to write the stories then there’s nothing any of us can do about it, and though Graves might be angry, he won’t take her on, not directly anyway. There’s too much between them.’

 

‘Who’s she? Who the hell are you talking about?’ Reese asked, his voice raised in exasperation.

 

Alonso’s reply was curt, sharp edged with warning. ‘We’ll discuss this later, after our guest leaves.’

 

Between Maiden Moor and High Spy, where Marie loses her way.Talia spoke over a loud clearing of throat. ‘And just how long do you plan to keep our guest listening at the door, Alonso?’

 

Before I could turn to flee, Alonso was at my side and with speed matched only by grace, he slid an arm around me and guided me into the day room where I was suddenly the center of attention.

 

‘I’m sorry. I was just coming in and I heard my name and … well what you were saying was …’

 

‘Frightening?’ Talia came to my side and smoothed my wind-blown hair away from my face, and the feather touch of her fingers sent the feeling of champagne bubbles bursting all over my body. ‘You have good reason to be frightened, scribe.’ Before I could step away from her, she pulled me into her arms and kissed me.

 

From somewhere a long way off I could hear Alonso and Reese, voices raised in alarm, but after that everything happened so quickly, I can only guess at events. They came to me like scenes lit by a strobe light, fast, frantic, and disjointed. There was a woman. I can’t recall how she looked, and yet I know if I ever see her, I’ll know instantly that it was her. She was achingly beautiful and yet something about that beauty terrified me. I tried to run from her, through an overgrown garden, dark and wild and more alive than it should have been. And there were stones, all around me stones some sculpted, some grotesque, some worn away until I couldn’t tell if they were ever more than just the rock on the fells.

 

Then someone carrying a flaming torch walked inside me like I were the garden, ignoring all the places that I chose to share with the world and seeking out the darkness in me, the shame in me, the places I never visited myself, let alone invited company in for a look. I cried out, I screamed, I tried to chase the torch bearer away, but the more I tried, the more my darkness was illuminated.

 

And then I was falling down underground, at first into the ruins of a slate quarry, and then there were bright lights above me, but I walked in caves, through endless tunnels and caverns, and I walked among the dead, all the while knowing that the bright lights were above me and that above me people celebrated, people danced and drank and partied. Yet they were oblivious to the dead just below them, the dead I walked among as I followed the torchbearer through the darkness. I followed until we came to the edge of an abyss, and there, the torchbearer turned to me and spoke against my ear. ‘Write it. Write what I tell you.’ Then with the flat of her hand in the middle of my back, she gave a gentle push, and I fell over the edge.

 

I woke with a start, gasping for breath. I’m embarrassed to say that I might have actually been screaming. It was Reese who held me, and soothed me back into the waking world.

 

‘Goddamn it, Talia!’ Alonso was saying. ‘Why the hell did you do that?’

 

I was lying flat out on the leather sofa with Reese kneeling at my side. But Talia was kneeling next to him.

 

As I fought to sit up, Talia glided across the floor to Alonso, took his face in her hands and kissed him hard. He gasped as though she had gut-punched him, grabbed at her as though to keep from falling and then stopped trying as his legs gave and he dropped onto the love seat across from me where he sat breathing like he’d just ran a marathon.

 

Dale Head Pivotal location for Elemental FireTalia pulled herself up to her full height, squared her shoulders and spoke in a quiet voice. ‘Now you know. Now we all know. And there’s nothing we can do about it.’ Then she turned and walked out of the room.

 

‘Do about it? What did she just do? What did she see?’ Reese sounded as though he wasn’t all that far from the panic I felt it knowing that whatever had happened inside me, Talia had just conveyed to Alonso, and I was pretty sure they both understood it a helluva lot better than I did.

 

If Alonso wasn’t already dead, I’d have said he looked like death warmed over, and his gaze was locked on me as though I’d just sprouted horns and a tail. Then he pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket still holding me in a cast-iron gaze. ‘Stephen, see that Ms Grace’s clothes are packed and the car is brought around for her. She’ll be leaving immediately. Oh, and see that the jet is prepped to fly her to Heathrow.’

 

It was full dark when Alonso walked me to the waiting SUV. Up until that time no one had spoken to me, though I had been well-fed, which was good because after whatever had happened to me in the day room, I was ravenous. The driver got out to take my bag and Alonso took my hands in his.

 

‘It isn’t over, K D.’ Before I could ask, he raised his hand to stop me. ‘I wish that I could tell you more, wish that I could help you, but I can’t. I know little more than to tell you that you need to be prepared because mine won’t be the last story you’ll be compelled to write.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m overstepping my boundaries by even telling you that, but perhaps she’ll forgive me. Perhaps not. Still you should be warned. You should be ready for what’ll be asked of you. At least as ready as it’s possible to be. I am sorry, K D. Truly I am.’ He kissed me on the cheek, then nodded to the driver.

 

I slept most of the way home, dreaming of things too disturbing and too erotic for me to share outright with you. Most of them involving Alonso and Talia, but during those dreams, I always knew that she was watching. There were moments when I could almost figure out who she was, but then like most dreams, what I struggled to hold on to vanished into mist before I woke up.

 

Once at home, I fell into my own bed without even undressing and slept a deep, dream-filled sleep, often feeling as though Alonso or Talia, sometimes both, were there in the bed with me, and always she watched just beyond the edge of my consciousness. I woke half-convinced that I’d dreamed the whole experience, but for the still-packed bag sitting on the floor in the hall. Even then, I thought perhaps I could have packed it in my sleep. Denial is a powerful thing. It was only after I’d gotten out of the shower and was drying myself that I noticed two tiny puncture wounds above my left breast. But even that I tried to justify as some sort of skin irritation or maybe an insect bite.

 

In the days that followed, I developed no aversion to sunlight, no desire to drink blood, no powerful urge to return to Alonso. Neither did Talia visit my dreams again. In the days that followed, I constantly questioned myself, tested myself, trying to discover exactly what it was about me that had changed. Something had, and yet I still can’t put my finger on what it was or why or how, but something is different.

 

Alonso’s parting conversation keeps coming back to me, and I wonder just what I aught to be prepared for, and who the hell she is. I keep trying to make sense out of whatever it was that happened between Talia and me, whatever it was that happened in my head, or in my imagination, or wherever it was. None of it makes any sense. But what I do feel is a sense of heightened expectation, as though something important, something that I need to do or know, is about to happen. But then again, perhaps it is nothing more than my overactive imagination exerting itself a little more than usual.

 

 

Addendum:

 

I now know who she is. I wouldn’t say that Magda Gardener has exactly become my friend. No one would say that about britboysonboys cover imageMagda Gardener, but I would say that as she guides me to the stories I’m compelled to tell – the story of Susan and Michael, the story of Mr. Graves and Samantha, she gives me little glimpses of herself – I don’t know if that is on purpose or inadvertent, but it doesn’t matter. What I have learned is that Alonso and Talia were right to fear her. Why I don’t know is why, in all the world, she chose me to write the stories of her Consortium. As those stories unfold, I’m not sure whether to be excited and flattered that I have been chosen, or to be terrified as each story reveals more of her own darkness. You, dear readers, will have to be the judge, and Alonso and Reese’s story is just the beginning.

 

Preorder Landscapes now

Landscapes available for Download 24 May

 

Smut by the Sea! 28 May! Come Join the Filthy Fun!

I’m so excited! It’s time for Smut by the Sea again. Look out Scarborough, here I come! There’ll be great workshops, fabulous readings, a tombola, an erotic market. There’ll even be Dr. Scribbly with the fabulous Bea Noir performing. But most of all, it’s a great chance to catch up with some of my favourite Smutters, get seriously inspired, and just have a good time! I SO can’t wait! I hope you will come and join the fun. You’ll be glad you did.  Pick up your ticket at Eventbrite now.

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Smut by the Sea 2016 Author and Reader event Sponsored by Godemiche – Are you going to Scarborough Fair?

 

Smut Events are fun, safe, inclusive days out when our community of erotica writers, sex bloggers. talented performers, readers, geeks & those that love them get together to socialize, exchange ideas and inspire one another. Smut by the sea 2016 is the fourth event to be held at Scarborough Library and this year it is on Saturday 28th May from 10am -5pm.

 

On the day there will be a host of fun, smutty things to enjoy including interactive workshops, reading slams, a brand new incarnation known as Dr Scribbly and much, much more. You even get your buffet lunch thrown in for free!

 

In the erotic marketplace you’ll be able to meet event sponsors Godemiche and get to grips with their amazing handmade silicone dildos, have a go on the world famous erotic tombola and win sex toys galore, check out amazingo.co.uk and treat yourself or pick up a book from the book stall and get your copy signed by the attending authors.

 

Tickets are now available from just £12 (excluding paypal charges) and there are a few limited author and promo tickets left for those who want to bring their books and promotional items on the day. Pick up your ticket at Eventbrite now or if you’d like to arrange an alternative way to pay other than paypal contact Victoria Blisse at victoria @ victoriablisse. co. uk (no spaces). As Host with the most she will be able to answer all your questions too.

 

 

10:00am DOORS OPEN
10:15am Introduction from Victoria Blisse
Welcome to our fourth annual Smut by the Sea event!
10:20am Reading Slam #1
Featuring: Victoria BlisseAnna SkySlave NanoKev Blisse
11am Morning Break
11:15am Jennifer Denys presents “Sex in sci fi stories”
Jennifer Denys has written several sci-fi erotic romances and in the process had to research a weightless sex scene – have any astronauts ‘done it’? Come to Jen’s workshop and find out! The session will briefly cover the history of sexuality in sci-fi literature, look at modern depictions and you will get a chance to come up with your own ideas for sex scenes in the future (we want some really fun, innovative ideas!)
12noon LUNCH!!!
1pm Anna Sky from Sexy Little Pages presents “Shortcuts to Self-Publishing”
Anna will take you on a whistle-stop tour on how to get more out of your publishing. Find out how to reach more sales platforms with little extra effort, how to use free services to help readers find you more easily and tips and tricks for spreading your new releases further afield.
1:45pm Check out the Erotic Market Break
2pm Reading Slam #2
Featuring: K D GraceCharlie J ForrestDylan McEwanJennifer Denys
2:45pm Bing-Oh-Behave!
Eyes down on those lovely legs elevens for a game of purple prose bingo!
3pm Janine Ashbless presents “Writing Fantasy Erotica”
So you want to write a fantasy, fairy tale, SF or paranormal erotic story … but you don’t know where to start? You’re wondering where to find fresh ideas? This interactive workshop with Janine Ashbless focuses on where to find your inspiration, and how to turn centuries-old plots into startling new stories.
3:45pm Afternoon Tea Break
4pm Dr. Scribbly with performer Bea Noir
You get to watch amazing performances designed to inspire you on the spot. Then you have a certain amount of time to write something about the performance. Anything you like, a poem, a flash fiction, or even simply a description of what you saw. Its totally upto you, no boxes, no cages, just your words.

There will be fun competitions to take part in and opportunities to win fabulous prizes.

5pm So long, and thanks for all the Smut!
Another seaside adventure draws to a close, as we say our goodbyes for another year xxx
5:30pm DOORS CLOSE
 

Scarlet Ladies: Reclaiming Women’s Sexuality Part 1

Scarlet Ladies-logo-medium

 

Several weeks ago, I had the privilege of being included on a panel on porn and female sexuality sponsored by the totally amazing Scarlet Ladies –Jannette Davies and Sarah Beilfuss. They have a plan for world conquest, as Sarah says, it includes “empowering every women on this planet. We want to have an impact on shaping sex education in this country and every country. Basically we want to change views on how people think of female sexuality.”

 

The Scarlet Ladies host women only events in London to talk about sex with the aim of normalizing the conversation Scarlet Ladies pic Unknownaround female sexuality, its problems, pains and pleasures.

 

Theirs is a plan, I can happily support. With that in mind, I invited them to a Skype interview so that they could share it all with you. The interview was so full of exciting information and so intriguing that it will be in two parts. The first one is here on my blog today, and the second half will be on The Brit Babes Blog on Monday the 23rd of May. Be sure to put that date on your calendar. You won’t want to miss it.

 

A Scarlet Lady is a woman who is or wants to be in charge of her sexuality and her needs. She understands her needs, desires and is not ashamed to get what she wants. From her work life to her personal life she is the author of her book.

 

This is the definition of a Scarlet Lady front and center on the Scarlet Ladies website. I personally think aspiring to be a Scarlet Lady is a very worthy goal.

 

“It was actually a rant at Costas about sex that got the idea of more women sitting around talking,” Jannette tells me.

 

“Everything came about really organically — two women talking about sex.” Sarah adds. “We just wanted to give other
women the opportunity to talk about sex the way we did that day.

 

Jannette nods her agreement. “The more women we met, the more they started introducing us to other people. A few Scarlet Ladies pic 3months down the line we launched Scarlet Ladies and here we are.” At this point, Sarah’s cat, Kira, hops up onto her lap and both women laugh. Sarah says a pussy is the perfect mascot for the Scarlet Ladies.

 

Sarah and Jannette met at networking events. Sarah is a personal transformation coach specializing in burn out and fatigue, and ‘getting your BOOM back.’ She uses those skills in the group coaching environment to help women overcome sexual challenges in SLT Scarlet Ladies talks.

 

Jannette runs an online website and magazine, Chareemag to which women contribute stories as well as fashion, lifestyle, sex and relationships articles. “It’s a place for women to have their voices heard,” she says. She was a beauty therapist before that. She also worked in Ann Summers. “That allowed me to be comfortable with sex and seeing it as a natural thing.”

 

The two tell me that while Jannette was more liberated, Sarah really had hang-ups around her sex life. Jannette’s goal is to create a space where women can talk without being judged. Sarah sees her goal as supporting the kind of women who aren’t that open, would like to be more so but don’t quite know how.

 

The Scarlet Ladies have clearly discovered that women want to talk about sex; they just needed the opportunity and a safe place, but I wonder if it was hard in the beginning to get them to open up?

 

The answer is a resounding No! Both women assure me that even before there was a group coming together to talk, the Scarlet Ladies59044624women just turned up, and they just talked. “It’s an amazing release,” Jannette says. “We don’t struggle to get them to open up. The panelists lead the way to that opening up.”

 

The bigger challenge, Sarah says, is getting women through the door, because there’s lots of stigma around women’s sexuality. “Initially the reaction I got was that it was a bit smutty – ‘you just want women to go and sleep around.’ That is precisely what SL is not,” she emphasizes. “It’s about pleasing yourself. It’s about what we want. We need to learn what WE want. In promo, however, it’s still a bit of women’s little dirty secret.”

 

I ask what they think frustrates women the most about ‘the politics of sex. What frustrates them the most?

 

Jannette thinks a lot of frustration comes from how women really are and what they and popular culture think they should be. “Even though now women are more sexually ‘out there’ than before,” she says, “everything about life and society pushes women to be a certain way — the expectations of what they should be and what they need to be in their sexuality and the way they look.”

 

“While appearing not to be sexual, but virtuous,” Sarah adds.Scarlet Ladies pic 2Unknown

 

Sarah goes on to say that she thinks one of the biggest problems is gender inequality – the idea that certain thing’s are ok for men but not for women and how that inequality puts women at risk. “Our attitude that ‘boys will be boys’ is not protective of women,” she says. “We have to teach boys how to act around women.”

 

The lack of sex education is another problem they both see. Sarah states the sex education that used to be taught in the UK was barely worth having, but now even that’s not mandatory.

“Society says men always want sex, but women want it all the time; they think about it, but don’t communicate it,” Sarah says. “I think women are a lot more sexual. In the very ancient cultures the female energy is where all sexuality sits. Tantra is a good example. The loss of that freedom was to suppress women to take away their power. If a woman is at the top of her game, her vagina will be part of her.” Then she adds sadly, “Most women end at the neck.”

 

I ask what surprised the two of them most when they started Scarlet Ladies.

 

“That we’re all so different and that it’s all normal,” Sarah says without having to think about it. “For example, while Scarlet Ladies friends-966489_1920
women may like lesbian porn; it doesn’t make them lesbian. Very often women come back to us after the meeting
saying, ‘Oh, I’m normal!’ We keep it to ourselves so much that we don’t really know what normal is.”

 

Check out The Scarlet Ladies website for more about their mission and for all upcoming events.

 

Be sure to check out the second half of my interview with The Scarlet Ladies on The Brit Babes Blog Monday the 23rd of May. You won’t want to miss it.

 

 

 

 

Create Your Love Story – A Guest Post by Aleigha Siron (@aleighasiron) #findingmyhighlander

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Finish the love story you’re reading and then create your own.

Plan the perfect interlude with your partner tonight.

 

Set the scene:

Dim the lights, or light flickering candles.

Prepare a bowl of peaches and strawberries dipped in chocolate.

Keep extra chocolate (not too hot,) for other taste delights.

Pop the champagne. Keep two glasses full for toasts through the night.

Dab champagne on all delectable body parts aching for passionate kisses.

Have your partner do the same.

If you’re the beer and pizza type, that could work too.

 

Communicate without words—love through touch.

Close your eyes and trace the contours of your lover’s face, neck, arms, and hands.

Pick your favorite light massage oil. Take turns. Leave fear or shyness in another room.

Swirl your name on your lover’s skin with the tip of your finger.

Start slow and easy, with your hands on your lover’s body, build heat and pressure.

Open the gates, let passion rule, surrender to enchantment.

When words come, rejoice with praise, honor, adoration.

Laugh, cry, remember why you fell in love.

 

Love is the greatest gift we bestow on another.

Don’t wait another day because today is all we have to share.

Pick a song. Lose yourself in the sounds and sensations.

Live your love story.

*****

Excerpt:

“Lass, can I help you?” His voice was softer than the others, his stance relaxed, composed, despite the dirt and blood splattered over his massive arms and clothing. He seemed to be a quiet, gentle man, though physically as imposing as the others.

“You could bring me my bag.”

He moved his hand from behind him and cautiously extended her mother’s old carpetbag. “Do I need to check it for weapons?” A slight crinkle lifted the corner of his mouth. A piece of leather cord tied wavy, light-brown hair at the nape of his neck and tight braids spilled alongside sharp, scruffy cheeks. His eyes were dark and shadowed.

“Thank you…it’s Rabbie, correct?”

“Aye,” he nodded.

Andra granted him a guarded smile. “I’ll pull no further weapons if you promise to be kind.” The slight attempt at humor from both of them eased the tension coiled in her gut.

He swept an arm gracefully in front of him and bowed, “Always, m’lady, as I learned at me mother’s knee.” Then he left her to tend the horses.

She searched her bag for the washcloth, hand towel, and first aid kit she always carried when traveling. The washcloth came to hand first. She dipped it into the cold water and wiped the dried and clotted blood from her face and hair. Then she dunked her head in the pool several more times.

“I seem to be awake,” she whispered, just for the comfort on her own voice. “My surroundings feel solid enough,” she pounded her fist on the dirt, “so it must be real. Accept it, Andra, and decide what to do next.”

She could hear the men speaking Gaelic, hushed yet clearly distraught about the condition of their clansman. They gathered near another pool of water several yards from where she knelt. She watched them over her shoulder for a few minutes struggling to fit the scene into her new reality. A million questions rose in her throat.

“Not now. Patience and observation are what’s required. All will be revealed in time.” What a stupid cliché.

Should she offer her help with their friend; would they accept it? She could not sit here and do nothing when one of them was seriously injured. Besides, anxiety always spurred her to take action. Her father had always said, “Move, keep busy, and don’t let dust gather under your feet.” With her father’s words ringing in her ears, she approached the men cautiously, keeping her eye on the mean one, Struan.

“May I be of assistance?” She stood with her feet firmly planted on the hard-packed, dirt floor, her head held high, one hand pressed flat against her side, the other rested on the cross dangling on her chest. It took an extreme effort to control her trembling body. Her palms moistened with sweat. She steadied her focus on Kendrick. His strong hands moved carefully over his brother’s body. The mean one harrumphed and growled.

A growl? Really?

Kendrick looked up, concern etched on his face. His dark, probing eyes bore through her. “Are you a healer, then?” he asked.

“Not a healer exactly, but I have cared for ill and injured persons and have some training in first aid. I wish to help if you’ll permit me.”

“I dinnae ken your meaning. What’s the first aid of which you speak? As you can see, we give him aid, but if you can do anything to help save my brother’s life, I will gladly accept your offer.”

The mean one growled again. “Don’t trust her, she’s the enemy and will just as soon slit his throat.”

Ignoring the slur, she continued, “Have you determined the extent of his injuries?”

“Aye, his shoulder is dislocated, several fingers broken, which we have straightened and bound as best we’re able. We need to stitch multiple, deep wounds, and he’s lost a lot of blood, though blood no longer flows freely.”

The injured man lay on a plaid, stripped completely naked, his kilt torn away from his battered body. Mud, blood, and all manner of vile debris caked the hard planes of his bronzed chest. Andra couldn’t identify the severity or location of all his injuries. He moaned but appeared unconscious, or so she assumed, since he hadn’t opened his eyes. Clumps of dried blood crusted over wounds on one leg and foot. Dark, matted refuse covered the entire other leg.

His manhood lay flaccid against his thigh, and none of the men seemed concerned about his state of undress in front of a strange female. She stood quietly, waiting for several breaths.

*****

FindingMyHighlanderbyAleighaSiron-200Blurb:

On a windswept cliff above San Francisco Bay in 2013, 27 year-old Andra Cameron, the last member of her family, prepares to scatter her family’s ashes to the wind. An earthquake catapults her to the Scottish Highlands in 1705. She wakes, aching and bloody, to the sound of horses thundering through the trees. Terrified and with no other options, Andra accompanies these rugged warriors. She can’t deny the undeniable attraction that ignites between herself and the handsome but gruff Kendrick. Will she trust him to provide protection in the harsh reality of 18th century Scotland and with her secret, or will she find a way to return home to the 21st century?

Laird Kendrick MacLean and his men, escaping a recent skirmish with their worst nemeses, clan Cameron and their Sassenach allies, are shocked to find an injured, unprotected female in their path. How could she not know her kin and how had she landed in the middle of the wilderness alone? His men suspect she’s a spy or a witch. Still, Kendrick will not abandon an injured woman, even if she speaks unusually accented English, and her name is Cameron. Will he ransom her to others or will their closed hearts open to each other? Although he questions her every utterance, this feisty, outspoken woman inflames his desire like no other.

Buy Links

Amazon us: http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B01DFGYURE/

Amazon ukhttp://www.amazon.co.uk/gp/product/B01DFGYURE

Nookhttp://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/finding-my-highlander-aleigha-siron/1123595128

Applehttps://itunes.apple.com/us/book/finding-my-highlander/id1097148126?mt=11

Smashwordshttps://www.smashwords.com/books/view/625227

Kobo: https://store.kobobooks.com/ebook/finding-my-highlander

*****

AleighaSironAuthor Bio and Media Links

After more than twenty years writing and delivering management and other training programs for modest-sized to Fortune Five Hundred companies, and ten years developing community crisis-intervention training programs, Aleigha turned her writing efforts to her first loves, fiction, and poetry.  Her poetry has appeared in numerous anthologies and university presses over the past few decades.  Following a difficult period in her life, she discovered solace in romance novels that inspired her to write in this genre.  As she says, “who doesn’t desire a guaranteed happy-ever-after scenario?” Always interested in the concept of time-travel, she knew her first few stories would follow that theme.

When not writing, her trusty four-legged companion/helper, Strider, accompanies her on sunset walks along the shore. During these quiet walks under an expansive sky, with the whoosh of waves across the sand and her gaze drifting over the rolling sea, her best glimmers of inspiration come to mind.  Following the recent discovery of distant Scottish ancestors, she embarked on a trip to the Highlands. Although she had already developed the characters for Finding My Highlander, her trip to the Highlands enriched the characters and enhanced the story direction. This is her first full-length romance novel.  Aleigha is working on a prequel to Finding My Highlander, and another time-travel novel set in a later period.

WWW (Aleigha’s WebPage): http://aleighasiron.com/

Aleigha Siron’s Book page at Tirgearr Publishing: http://www.tirgearrpublishing.com/authors/Siron_Aleigha/finding-my-highlander.htm

Tirgearr Publishing Home Page: http://www.tirgearrpublishing.com/index.htm

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/AleighaSiron

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/people/Aleigha-Siron/

*****

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The Psychology of Dreams 101 Part 12

Psychology of Dreams cover12985576_1537272663241009_8777292825525497968_nAfter a week’s hiatus in which I was 30,000 feet above the Greenland — at least for part of it, I’m happy to offer a new episode of The Psychology of Dreams 101. When last we left our intrepid dreamers, a strap-on-clad Leah had just taken charge. As we near the climax of our tale (you see what I did there 😉 Leah does way more than take charge by taking a risk that may cost them all dearly.

What if you got punished when you didn’t get your dreams right? That’s the dilemma our heroin, Leah, and her psychology of dreams teacher, Al. The Psychology of Dreams 101 is a romp into the sexy unconscious as Leah Kent takes a Psychology of Dreams adult education class, only to discover that the required Dream Journal leads to some seriously kinky night journeys.

 

 

If you’ve missed Episode 11, find it here. 

 

 

Chapter 12 Into the Abyss

Leah felt Al’s guttural groan against the dildo, the vibration of which penetrated deep behind her pubic bone, the urgent sound of his need penetrating her as surely as she planned to penetrate him and, she realized for the first time that she would penetrate him, that she could actually do it. Not only could she, but she wanted to, needed to if she were ever to escape the dream. But the sound of his growing arousal was enough to shift her attention from what Al was doing to the strap-on to what Dr. Clyde was now doing to Al’s ass. He knelt on the floor behind him, hunched at an unnatural angle because of Al’s position in front of her. To accommodate Clyde’s efforts, Al had lifted his buttocks as high as he could and still continue his ministrations to her dildo. Clyde spat onto his fingers and teased and worried Al’s tight backside with little circular strokes and tiny intimations of breaching. With the other hand, he caressed and kneaded Al’s butt cheeks, easing them apart to expose more fully the dark clench and release.

“Al was my lover once,” Clyde said, his voice thick with arousal, even in his efforts to sound matter-of-fact. “Did he tell you that? Did he tell you we were lovers before Diana?”

Al flinched and his jaws tightened around the dildo until the muscles below his cheekbone twitched, and Leah was glad the strap-on was not flesh and blood.

“No. No he didn’t tell me that,” she replied, cupping Al’s face, stroking his cheek until he relaxed, until the tension left his shoulders, and he resumed his efforts. Clearly the good doctor’s little reveal was something Al didn’t really want discussed.

“Not that it matters,” she said, curling her fingers in Al’s hair again, this time more gently. “I’m not one to judge people by their pasts.”

“We were good together. Our situation was ideal,” Clyde continued. “Until Diana came between us. We both wanted her, didn’t we Al?”

Al didn’t respond but doubled his efforts against the dildo, and once again she stroked him, this time along his neck and throat. But Clyde kept talking in spite of Al’s discomfort – maybe because of it.

“You see, ours was just a relationship of convenience. We provided a much-needed service to each other, and it didn’t hurt that it was really good, did it Al?”

She wished Clyde would shut up, but he continued. “As you can imagine, we didn’t have much of a life, either of us. There was no time for it with our research. Then one night, we stayed over at the facility. Well actually it was closer to morning than it was night. We dreamed together. That was the first time we realized we could, and it was hotter than hell – the dream was, I mean, and we were in it together. It was the most amazing foreplay you can imagine, Leah, because there are no limits to what you can do in a dream. You can be Superman. You can fly, you can breathe beneath water; you can even have two cocks if it strikes your dream fancy. And when we came out of it, well we all but fucked each other’s brains out. You can’t imagine what it felt like, really you can’t.”

It certainly wasn’t the dream-sharing package she was having, Leah thought. In her dream there was no satisfaction to be had, and she was stuck with these two guilt riddled bastards and the ghost of Diana. Speaking of …

“Diana, well she was a grad student in biology.” Clyde continued. “It was love at first sight for both of us, wasn’t it Al? We both fantasized about what it would be like to dream with her, what the sex would be like afterwards. It became an obsession, I suppose, maybe even a little bit of a competition to see who could get her attention. Of course in the meantime, we were fucking each other just to, you know, get rid of all that tension.” He offered a little chuckle tinged with bitterness that Leah could almost taste. “I was the one who decided to tell her about our experiments, about the sex, about how powerful the dream was. Well,” he said softly, “you know how persuasive I was. I had no trouble getting her to dream with me. The problem was getting her to stop. Getting her to stop …” He shoved a finger home hard and dark moon image_xl_6338206Al flinched. Leah decided it was time to take back control.

“Shut up Clyde. I don’t care if the two of you fucked a whole damn football team in your bloody research. All I care about is getting out of this goddamned dream. Al stand up,” she commanded.

He pulled away, stumbling to his feet, his hand resting protectively against his erection. She kissed him hard and deep and demanding until he yielded and gasped into her mouth, and she heard Clyde’s mirroring gasp in reply. Then she took Al’s hand and guided him, trousers still down around his knees, to bend over the desk. She carefully positioned him so that his arms were stretched above his head, fingers curled around the far end of the desk, his hips jutting over the opposite end enough so that his cock wasn’t trapped beneath his body. She grabbed Clyde by the hair and tugged him, still on his knees to kneel behind Al. “Now then, I asked you to make him ready. I didn’t ask you to hurt him. Nor did I ask for your commentary.” She nodded to Al’s exposed backside. “Go on. If the two of you were lovers, then you know what to do, what he’ll like, what will make it easier for him to accomodate me and enjoy me. And Clyde, I don’t give a shit if this is your dream of not. As long as you’re here, I will punish you if you disobey me again.” To emphasize her point, she gave him a brisk thwak across his half-exposed dapper ass with the flogger, making sure he felt the sting. He gasped and grabbed at his crotch, and she admired the bright pink welts she had somehow known exactly how to administer.

“Don’t touch your cock,” she said. “Do as I say or I’ll see that you never get any satisfaction in this dream.”

The man flinched as though she had gut punched him, and she suddenly got it. She totally got it. “That’s it, isn’t it, Clyde? You haven’t had any satisfaction since your last big dream encounter, have you?”

His lack of a reply was all the answer she needed. “And that’s why you’re so eager to help Al and me with our little dream dilemma. He struggled to meet her gaze, color blazing across his cheeks, but he said nothing.

“Well then, if you’re here, you’ll do as I say and we’ll all hope for the best.”

And just like that, the good doctor got down to some serious rimming, and the stretching of his cock confirmed his enjoyment as well as Al’s, who arched his back until his bottom was high in the air, hips shifting and thrusting back against Clyde’s laving tongue and forward against the empty space between his cock and the desk.

“Surely there must be a better place to punish him, to punish both of you, than on your classroom desk, Al,” she said, and suddenly she was aware that the power had completely shifted in the dream. It was entirely in her hands, and whatever it was that needed to happen, it was also entirely up to her to intuit. “How about we take this little dream to the place that you both find the most punishing. What do you say boys?”

“No!” came the duet that just barely past both of their lips before they all found themselves on the rooftop of a skyscraper in the dead of night.

“Not here, Leah. This is not the place, this is not a dungeon. This is not Al’s dream,” Dr. Clyde’s voice was breathless, laced with fear and uncertainty she’d never heard in him before. “Anyplace, I’ll go anyplace you want to take us, only just not here.”

“Yes, Clyde. Here.” Both men were now naked and her black leather bustier and boots had been replaced with what appeared to be a body hugging chain-mail sort of armor exposing her breasts, buttocks and crotch. The strap-on she now wore matched, but the dildo was bigger, thicker, stainless steel.

From somewhere in the depths of the unconscious, she had conjured a St. Andrews cross to which Al was now strapped spread-eagle, suspended just at the edge of the building so that even secured as he was, his bare toes curled over the edge into nothingness and the breeze from the abyss below tussled his hair. Clyde knelt with his knees at the edge, his hands tied behind his back with his own necktie.
“You’ve blamed each other and you’ve blamed yourselves,” she said separating Al’s ass cheeks and plunging home hard, hard enough to make him cry out, even as he yielded with an ease that said the good doctor had done his job, but then this was a dream, and she wanted him to cry out. She wanted him to feel her anger, her frustration and being dragged into their guilt. “I don’t care who’s to blame.” She withdrew and thrust again. “I’m sorry for both of you.” Another thrust. “I’m sorry for Diana, but I have nothing to do with any of this and what I want is out of your goddamned dream.”

She thrust several more times before she realized Clyde was shouting over and over again, “it should have been me! It
should have been me! It should have been me!”

“But it wasn’t you.” She gave one more hard thrust and Al came in great gasping bursts, his semen painting the night f7c97536836dc44ea7a1faaa02ab1a6asky of the dreamscape like the tail of a comet. “It wasn’t either one of you, and it wasn’t your fault either. Diana did what she did, and no one could have stopped her. But since neither of you can get past it without dragging in innocent bystanders, I’m here to punish both of you. Maybe then you’ll forgive yourselves for what wasn’t your fault and just get on with it.” She pulled free of Al, whose restraints had disappeared along with the cross and, with the flat of her hand, she pushed him off the edge, him still coming in great heavy bursts.

Then she turned to Dr. Clyde staring in shock at Al’s endless descent. She drew him to his feet, still teetering on the edge, then untied his hands and kissed him deeply before pushing him over the edge to follow Al into the abyss of the dreamscape.

“Make your peace, both of you,” she called after them, “and then set me free.”

 
© 2017 K D Grace
The Romance Reviews

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