Category Archives: Blog

Psst! Have You Read That Filthy Book, by Lily Harlem and Natalie Dae?

Lily Harlem and Natalie Dae have a sizzling new release out called That Filthy Book. And if the excerpt they’ve shared below is any indication, I’d say the book is very aptly named!

Blurb:
Out of sight, out of mind. Or so I thought, but it turns out an old, dog-eared book with contents so filthy and so depraved that I’d been forced to hide it after reading, has sank deeper into my erotic subconscious than I’d ever imagined. Luckily though, Jacob is up for exploring the new side of me that has risen to the surface after all these years.

In a whirlwind of wanton adventures that push us to the limits of our sexuality, we begin to re-discover what it once was that had us screaming with pleasure and how to accept that nothing will ever be the same again between us.

Reader Advisory: This book contains bondage, BDSM and an element of dubious consent within a consensually acted out rape scenario.

Excerpt From That Filthy Book (18+)

It seemed Lady Luck had joined us for our journey, giving the green light for all our needs to be met only three days after my confession of what I really wanted him to do with that branch.

Jacob’s parents had asked if they could take the girls to a circus on Saturday night. It started at eight, didn’t finish until ten, so they’d suggested it was more sensible that they keep them until Sunday morning, possibly Sunday afternoon if the children fancied having a roast dinner with them at the local pub.

I was not about to turn that opportunity down, especially when Jacob had been hot for the idea of outside sex. In fact, he’d been more than up for it, and the excited glint in his eye when I’d held up the carefully stripped bark had sent a tremble to my very core. Something told me I’d hit another very dark and very sinful nerve of his.

But always one to think of others, Jacob had already promised to help a work colleague move house on the Saturday. I didn’t mind too much because it left me with an empty afternoon to prepare for our evening of fun. I started with a pamper accompanied by a glass of wine, treating myself to a cucumber face mask, sugar body scrub, shave—including my pussy—manicure and pedicure and finally a generous slathering of body butter.

It left me feeling tingly and smooth, as if my body was honed and prepared. The thought of my silky, clean skin and perfectly neat red nails out in the open, amongst dirt and leaves, with the sootiness of bark mould smudged randomly over my body had me panting with excitement. I could just imagine mud squelching around my toes and the creamy skin of my wrists worn red by ropes. And the image of my arse marked raw by the branch, well, that had me feeling like a sacrificial offering.

For I knew that this evening I would be handing myself over to nature, to Jacob, and to my own darkest desires. The bare bones of my soul were about to be revealed. No holds barred, no chance to hide. They were the very skeleton of me that only Jacob would ever set eyes on.

When the dipping sun sent lilac and crimson fingers darting over the horizon I was ready—more than ready. I’d had a light tea and another glass of wine, resisted the temptation to masturbate—just—and saved myself for my husband.

The front door opened with a whoosh, then shut with a resounding slam. I spun from the kitchen window where I’d been staring at the darkening copse.

The copse that was ready and waiting.

Heavy footsteps banged down the hall. Loud and resolute, the sound reverberated around my head.

This was it. There was no turning back.

I didn’t want to. Not for anything.

The door swung open, and there he stood, with his broad shoulders filling the frame and his head bowed slightly. He pulled his brows low and set his jaw. A small muscle flexed and unflexed in his cheek.

“Get down on your knees, bitch.”

I gasped at the completely thrilling sound of his bad man’s voice and folded my legs until my knees landed on the freshly swept lino. He was so feral, so dominant, not Jacob the protector, the carer. No, tonight I had Jacob the master, the taker, the giver of sinful pleasure.
Between one breath and the next he was in front of me, his groin level with my face and his hands on his hips. The scent of man and hard physical work washed over me, as well as perhaps a hint of a greasy spoon cafe where he’d no doubt been treated to pie and chips for the efforts of his day.

“Take out my cock.”

I reached for the buttons on his jeans, surprised to see that my hands trembled. Excitement? Trepidation?

This had not been part of any plan, but I wasn’t complaining. In fact, there wasn’t a plan. All Jacob had asked was that I trust him. He said that he understood what I wanted and would make it all happen for me. Of course, we had a safe word, but I couldn’t imagine I would need it. I trusted Jacob with my life and my pleasure. I always would.

“Hurry up,” he said, tangling his fingers in my neatly brushed, softly conditioned hair. “Take it out and suck it.”
After I freed his cock, his length sprang into my palm, hot and thick, and the purple veins winding up the shaft bulged with his keen arousal.
In a sharp movement, he jerked forward and the tip slid into my salivating mouth. “Wider, whore,” he snarled. “Take me, all of me.”

I stretched my jaw and he sank deep, sliding to the back of my throat in one urgent movement. I gagged but he ignored it; pulled back then rode in again, all the time holding my head in a tight, vice-like grip so I had no choice but to take him, tip to base.

I’d sucked on Jacob’s cock a million times, but never had he taken control like this. He was always respectful and deathly still, allowing me to determine depth and pace. But this was different—this was sinful, depraved Jacob fucking my mouth without a thought for my well-being.
I adored it.

Needing support as my body was jostled by his thrusting hips, I gripped his thighs. Saliva ran down my face and neck onto my red blouse, my nose repeatedly buried in his wiry pubic hair. He steamed on and on, hissing and cursing above me. Breathing was difficult, my mouth was so chock-full of hard, demanding cock. When I did catch a breath the air was heated and smelt of him, musky and raw.

“Get fucking ready for it,” he snarled, thrusting to such a depth his balls slapped against my chin. “I’m going to come down your throat. I’m going to fill you up, now…argh…fuck…now.”

He let out a garrotted cry as his cock swelled further, then, in several sweet pulses, copious amounts of fluid gushed over my tongue. I swallowed rapidly, the action tugging the crown of his cock further down my throat.

“Ah, sweet…fucking…Jesus,” he hissed, gripping my hair. “That’s it, keep sucking, swallow me.”

I did as he asked. My body quivered, and I could almost come myself just from the feel and taste of him climaxing so hard and forcefully. Had he lain there all those millions of times I’d sucked him off, restraining himself? Had he wanted to throw me down and fuck my mouth in a hard, abandoned way, but resisted?

I didn’t have time to dwell on this because Jacob pulled out, gripped my upper arms and dragged me into a standing position. Gasping, I stared into his flushed face. His mouth was parted as he drew in big lungfuls of air. His eyes sparkled, the pupils wide and dilated, showing me the dark depths of his most basic needs.
“That’s just the beginning,” he said in a rasping, breathy voice. “To take the edge off what you’ve had me thinking of for three days.” He slanted his mouth down hard over mine, taking possession of my lips and tongue in a furious, ravenous kiss. He pulled away abruptly. “You’re such a tease,” he muttered, “tempting me, turning me on. Well, now you’re going to get it. You’re going to get punished for making a man want you so bad it hurts his soul.”

Buy Link
http://www.total-e-bound.com/product.asp?strParents=&CAT_ID=&P_ID=1604

Author Bios

Natalie Dae is a multi-published author in three pen names writing several genres. She lives with her husband, children, and three cats in an English village. She writes full time and is also a cover artist and blog designer. In another life she was an editor. Her other pen names are Sarah Masters and Charley Oweson.

Website:  http://www.emmyellis.com

Lily Harlem is an award-winning author of contemporary erotic romance and writes for Total-E-Bound, Ellora’s Cave and Xcite as well as featuring in numerous UK and US anthologies. She lives in the UK and since giving up a career in nursing adores indulging a decidedly naughty side of her personality by writing ultra-sexy stories.

Website: http:// www.lilyharlem.com

Fifty Shades of Baggage

As a writer, I can’t read a book without analysing why it worked for me or why it didn’t. A lot of times I’m lucky to get through the first chapter before I’m too bored to go on. While it’s quite likely that I have a short attention span, it’s more likely that I’m jaded from a lot of years of experiencing the craft side of writing fiction, which has made me a harsh critic of my own work, as well as everyone else’s. I’m still analysing what it was about E.L. James’s Fifty Shades of Grey that not only kept me reading to the end, but had me gripped. In the light of the volatile responses to the book, I say that with all shields raised.

There has already been lots written about the writing, so I won’t revisit that. But after careful analysis of  Fifty Shades of Grey, it was the baggage that kept me reading. The story is about a late-blooming virgin, whose mother is a serial marry-er, and a multi-billionaire, whose early childhood was the stuff nightmares are made of, who attempts to introduce said virgin to the BDSM lifestyle as his sub, and the battle of wills that ensues. The story is not about the BDSM lifestyle, but rather about two people trying to rearrange their baggage so they can actually attempt a life together. It’s that baggage rearranging that drives the story. Once I figured out that the baggage actually got me there, I found myself wondering just what it is about baggage that will keep me reading against all odds.

We all have baggage, no matter how perfect our upbringing, no matter how idyllic our childhood. Baggage is just a part of the human condition – you’re born, you get baggage while growing up, then you take your baggage into a relationship with someone who has his own baggage. Voila! Twice the baggage, twice the fun – at least from a story-telling point of view. Story is conflict. No conflict, no story. There’s a reason why the happy ending only happens at the end. Most readers love a happy ending, and though they may fantasise about what happens AFTER the happy ending, no one wants to read about the endless tedium of happiness (though lovely to live, boring to read.)

When there are sparks between two people and the chemistry for a little romance is there, the friction needed to create a fire comes in part from the baggage. Every one of us carries all the baggage of Western culture, religion and pop culture, along with the baggage our parents unwittingly saddle us with, into our relationships, into our bedrooms. There’s bound to be an explosion waiting to happen, or a seething cauldron of repression, or a nasty combination of the two.

While the bedroom is the biggest baggage dump in a couple’s relationship, it’s also the very best place for healing. Sex as healing is very much underrated, in my opinion, and in that respect, E.L. James seemed to know just what the doctor ordered.

Anyone who follows my blog or reads one of my novels knows that I’m a firm believer in sex as a way to heal what ails us. With the release of my first Lakeland Heatwave novel, Body Temperature and Rising, I’ve created a world in which sex is not only healing, but it’s the driving force behind the magic practiced by my witches. I was asked in a recent interview by someone who had read BTR if I really believed in sex magic, and my reply was that it’s the only kind of magic I really do believe in. So here is the magic formula that works for me, the formula that will keep me reading: Two (or more) characters attracted to each other + baggage +complications of everyday life = explosions and seething cauldrons. Add sex liberally at all the right places and the result is Happy ending.

Bring on the baggage!

The Story Behind Kay Jaybee’s Sexy Novella, Not Her Type

When www.OystersandChocolate.com asked me to write a novella for their brand new e-print company, the OCPress, I was beyond delighted. I had no hesitation in agreeing, and there was never any question of what my subject matter would be.

Back in 2007 I wrote a serial for Oysters and Chocolate entitled, Going Against Type, about the adventures of a delivery man and one of his regular customers. It was amazing fun to write, and almost from the start I wanted to take the idea and turn it into a novella. So, when the opportunity arose, the characters of Jenny (a home working accountant who has regular DVD deliveries), and John (her rough and ready courier), took on a new dimension, and began a sexual adventure of a lifetime.

When Jenny’s regular film courier, John, reveals how she has become the centre of his sexual dream world, Jenny’s quiet existence is thrown into an arena of desire that she thought she’d long since abandoned.

One unexpected, head swimming romp later, and Jenny is left wondering if her courier will ever visit her again, and if he does, will he mention the hot sex they had on her living room floor that Tuesday afternoon, or will he pretend that it hadn’t happened?

When the following Tuesday arrives and John reappears on Jenny’s doorstep, the scene is set for a continuation of intensely kinky weekly meetings. There is only one problem. John really really isn’t Jenny’s type….

So- what was it that made me want to write about a delivery guy in the first place?

The short answer is, that due to the nature of my “proper” job, I have visits from a handful (I use the word “handful” wisely), of delivery men every week, and boy are they HOT. More importantly, they are all kind, loyal, and work incredibly hard. They also all love what I produce on the writing front, and never miss an opportunity to “suggest” ideas for new stories.

Let’s face it- these guys spend a lot of time driving around on their own. They have WAY TOO MUCH TIME TO THINK- and I am here to tell you that they do not think about what might be for dinner, or if they should mow the lawn that day!!

When I set out to write any story, I want everyone to be able to relate to it in some way. By using the figure of the delivery man, I hope I achieved that. Nearly all of us have had men and women arriving on our doorsteps with a package, and come on- be honest here- how many of you have fantasised about inviting that courier across the threshold??

From a writer’s perspective it is great fun to be able to take such a scenario and turn it into a naughty tale. In this case, I used the idea to allow Jenny and John to meet just once a week- each of their meetings becoming slightly more erotic and exotic than the next.

Not Her Type may start quietly vanilla; but if you have ever read any of my other work, you will know that it won’t stay like that for very long!

In this extract, from week six of their liaison, things are most certainly hotting up. John has had things his own way for the past five weeks, and Jenny has decided that it is high time she turned the tables…

I have a plan. I just hope I can hold my courage and see it through…

“I don’t have long.”

John’s familiar words spilled from his mouth as he crossed the threshold of Jenny’s home. Throwing a handful of DVDs carelessly across the sofa, his lips were on hers before she had the chance to speak, his hands diving up and under her mini denim skirt. A murmur of appreciation escaped him as his traveling fingertips discovered her lack of knickers and stocking tops. “Shit woman, you get hotter!”

Allowing him to fall into their regular pattern, Jenny let John lead her toward the armchair. “You wanton woman, you’re already wet aren’t you?”

“I knew you were on your way.” Jenny didn’t say anything else as she undid his buttons, pulling his belt from his trousers, loop by loop. Stroking the leather lovingly between her fingers she smiled, “Did I ever tell you that I love belts?”

Without waiting for a response, Jenny freed his length and made a fist around his cock. She pumped him twice—as she’d pre-planned in the solo-quiet of the previous evening— before abruptly letting go of him and walking away.

John’s face was a vision of pure confusion as, with hands on her hips, Jenny calmly said, “Get on your knees, delivery man.” He only hesitated for a fraction of a second before stepping free of his pants and dropping to the floor.

Moving forward, without a word, Jenny gestured for John to remove his t-shirt. Walking around him in a slow circle, she examined him from every angle. John had had things his own way for weeks. It was her turn now. The old Jenny had certainly been willingly submissive; someone who relished being led rather than leading, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have the occasional urge to turn the tables and make her partner beg for mercy. She just hoped she hadn’t lost her touch.

Taking a black scarf from a collection of supplies she’d hidden beneath the sofa, Jenny deftly tied his arms behind his back. Unable to hide her pleasure as she continued to study him, Jenny whispered, “There is truly nothing as fantastic to behold as a fuck-me handsome man without power.”

Kneeling before John, she saw that his wide, dark brown eyes were watching her intently. Kissing each of his eyelids, Jenny collected a blindfold from its hiding place and, with a suggestive raise of her eyebrows and a teasing waggle of her fingers, plunged him into darkness. As John opened his mouth to speak, his favorite customer placed a fingertip across his lips. “No talking. Yes?”

John nodded obediently.

Viewing her enslaved lover, Jenny stroked his chest, enjoying the light spring of his hair as it tickled her palms. She knew she was going to make John late for the remainder of his rounds, but she didn’t care, and was going to make sure that he didn’t either.

Reveling in her unprecedented freedom, Jenny let her skirt fall to the floor, her memory teeming with images of their previous animal coupling in the back of his lorry. Her knees and backside still bore the marks of their frantic encounter.

Discarding her shirt and freeing her breasts, she made sure the cotton material caressed John’s tattoos, cleverly letting him know that she was undressing. Jenny placed her hands on John’s shoulders, pushing him so that he was face down on the beige carpet, his hands bound behind him, his arse in the air.

Beginning at his feet, Jenny began a thorough survey of his whole body by stroking a silk handkerchief over his ankles, making John writhe under its tickling touch. Moving it stealthily up the back of his legs, she could taste the sharp tang of tension that infused the room.

He squirmed under her touch. Jenny could tell he was trying to anticipate her next move while struggling not to speak, and she smiled to herself as she dragged the gentle weapon of torture up behind his knees.

By the time Jenny approached the rounded cheeks of his magnificent arse, John’s breathing was ragged, and his tethered hands were clenched together with the effort of not pleading with her to speed up.

Completely absorbed in her task, alternating between both light and firm pressure, Jenny smoothed every inch of his back, his bum, and his sides with the handkerchief, making John flinch and whine until, as she reached his neck, he couldn’t keep quiet any longer, “Oh hell girl, I…”
Cutting through John’s sentence, Jenny said, “As I said earlier, I am very fond of belts. I particularly like the marks they leave behind when they bite the flesh. That sort of blotched, fuzzy, pink patchwork pattern.”

Winding the leather strap around her wrist before she took aim…

From spanking to bondage, threesome action, and full on (occasionally shocking) kink, Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With A Delivery Man, covers all the bases as Jenny discovers the extent of her delivery man’s sexual fantasies. Meanwhile, John discovers just how far from Jenny’s usual “type” he really is…

Buy Not Her Type Here:

http://oceroticbooks.com/CatalogueRetrieve.aspx?ProductID=4716776

Kay Jaybee’s Website: http://kayjaybee.me.uk/

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/KayJaybeeAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/kay_jaybee

 

Spring Forward! Fun, Filth, and Fiction!

Every once in a while I get out of my cave for a little fun and entertainment, and Wednesday last was one of those times. The delectable Rubyyy Jones was able to secure tickets for the Erotic Meet folks to see a performance of the critically acclaimed show, Burlexe. I love burlesque! I love the costumes, I love the women, I love the glitz, I love the music and I love the delicious, saucy bawdiness of it all. I especially love that burlesque is very much a woman’s world. Women make the rules. Women run the show.

Burlexe is unique in that it isn’t just an amazing burlesque show, but it’s also a series of short vignettes between the performances in which women tell their stories of how they got into burlesque. The stories are diverse, and in some cases very surprising. They range from the story of a banker by day, burlesque performer by night who gets outed, to a young widowed mother who needs to support her children, to a woman with bi-polar disorder who discovers burlesque balances her. The performances were bawdy funny glitzy burlesque at its best, and the monologues were gritty, moving and often disturbing. If you’ve not seen this fabulous performance yet, then get thee to the Shadow Lounge in Soho and do so!

Filthy Mouths and Evil Tongues

Friday night brought another trip into London for my first reading with the talented, amazing and sexy women of Filthy Mouths and Evil Tongues. I don’t mind telling you I was a little bit nervous sharing the floor at Sh! Hoxton with the likes of Elizabeth N. Spire, Molly Moor, Lady Grinning Soul, Mia Lee, Annie Player, Sarah Berry, The Dragon King’s Daughter and the incomparable Mel Jones. Oh, the evening was so naughty! The place was heaving, fizz was flowing, many choccie cupcakes were eaten. As always, the Sh! Ladiez were fantastic, and the shopping was as yummy and filthy as the performances.

Novellas

Next month I’ll have my first ever novella released. In fact I’ll have two novellas released almost at the same time. I’d never written a novella before, and I was intrigued and excited to try my hand at writing something in the 20-40 thousand word range. I have to say I thoroughly enjoyed the paciness the shorter length provided, and yet the space to explore characters and plot more thoroughly than I would have been able to in a short story. Novellas are a happy medium, indeed, and a lovely change. I hope I have the opportunity to do it again. In the meantime, I’m getting very excited as the release dates draw near.

The Secret Library

I’m very proud to be included in the debut volume of Xcite Books ground-breaking new collection of books called The Secret Library. Each volume has a gorgeous, very discrete, velvet cover. Inside each cover are three very naughty novellas. I’m very honoured to have my very nasty road-trip story, Migrations, included in The Secret Library volume called Traded Innocence. Also included is Toni Sands’s title story, Traded Innocence and Elizabeth Coldwell’s story, Cooking Up Trouble. Deliciously sexy stories in gorgeous, discrete covers written by some of the hottest erotica writers in the field are bound to be a big hit. I’ll be talking more about The Secret Library, Traded Innocence and Migrations very soon.

Mischief

I’m also very pleased to have my novella, Surrogates, included in Harper Collins’s brand new eBook line of erotica, Mischief. And very aptly named now that the cat is out of the bag, and the list of writers creating Mischief are among the nastiest and the best in the business. I’m very pleased to be in such filthy company. As for my novella, Surrogates, well it’s a garden porn ménage at its nastiest, and just in time for spring.

My Other Babies

With Body Temperature and Rising being my first paranormal erotic novel, in many ways it feels like The Pet Shop and Body Temperature and Rising are contemporaries in my writing timeline. While Body Temperature and Rising keeps getting great reviews and is the main topic of my guest posts on other sites at the moment, The Pet Shop continues to get fab reviews and grow in popularity alongside Body Temperature and Rising. Of course I’m very glad to see this, as I love all my babies and the release time was short between The Pet Shop and Body Temperature and Rising.

In writing news, I’ve finished the first draft of the second Lakeland Heatwave novel, Riding the Ether, and have begun book three, Elemental Fire, which is stalled at the moment due to a much-needed catch-up on PR and admin. I hope to return to my efforts next week. As the two novels are set only a few months apart in the timeline, I have decided to write them pretty much as though they were one continuous narrative, which will give me a good sense of continuity with the two and also, maybe even more important, keep me from feeling too much empty nest syndrome in between the finishing of one and the beginning of the next.

That’s the week in a nutshell. And a busy week it’s been. Here’s wishing you all a fabulous Spring Forward!

Artist Fuschia Ayling talks Sexuality and Creativity

Fuschia and me at the BTR launch

I’m sure you’ve already seen the pictures of the paintings and heard me rave about the fabulous artists who each volunteered to illustrate a different excerpt of my novel, Body Temperature and Rising, for my launch party a couple of weeks ago. As I’ve gotten to know these very talented young artists and seen a bit more of their work, I knew I had to have them on my site and give my readers the chance to get to know them a little better and have a look at a few images of their wonderful work.

Fuschia’s stunning scene depicting voyeuristic bliss on the fells from BTR

The very talented Fuschia Ayling is my guest today. Fuscia chose the opening scene of Body Temperature and Rising to paint, and on her blog, teased us all with sneak peeks of the work in progress. I’ve been following her blog ever since just to see what she gets up to. Welcome Fuschia! It’s a pleasure to have you on A Hopeful Romantic.

KD: Fuschia, have you always known you’ve wanted to be artists? What inspired the choice?

Fuschia:I have always been driven creatively, ever since I was a very small child – I suppose I was always happiest when I was up to my elbows in paint, mud or playdough. When I was small my father owned a gallery and studio in St. Ives, and his success and talent as an artist – along with my immersion in the Cornish art scene – meant that I was given all the encouragement I needed to continue exploring my interest. As I grew up I continued to enjoy expressing myself visually, but I

‘My Not So Secret Garden’

viewed it more as therapy – there were always things which I couldn’t explain to others, things that I could only really exorcise in my journals. I studied Art and Design at college and then took an extra couple of years to really develop my work and distance myself still further from what seems to be a very Cornish expectation – that as an artist one should paint landscapes and seascapes to order. I am thankful that being an artist is a viable career option – I can basically devote my life to healing what is, unfortunately, a slightly damaged brain.

KD: Tell us a little bit about yourself.

“Bang Bang” is to do with sexual experience and confusion, the way all the things that we experience leave traces, tangled and in some ways unable to be separated. It is also to do with my feelings for my own body, my femininity, my role as a woman – as explored through the use of embroidery.

Fuschia: I am 20 years old, currently studying at Kingston University for a BA in Fine Art. My work is always confessional, often sexual and sometimes a little shocking. My work deals with my own personal experiences and opinions, and in that way it is like an ever growing and expanding diary of my life. I often deal with issues that, although still current, are perhaps best described as scars from childhood. I have been called a feminist artist, although this isn’t a label I particularly identify with, I think my work deals with what could be deemed “Feminine Issues” merely because I am by gender a woman. I enjoy writing, drawing, sewing and painting – I like to mix and match materials and processes.

KD: Why did you choose to make sexuality the central theme in your artwork?

Fuschia:I suppose sexuality is a central theme in my work because it is a central theme in life – sex

‘Open Wide’

is, after all, the reason why we are all here. I am very interested by human nature, especially when it comes to sex, and I think that this interest fuels part of my obsession. Like many people I have issues with my own sexuality, I find that exploring these unspoken things in my work comes naturally to me. I have produced a lot of work in the past about being a rape victim, and I probably will continue to do so in the future, it is something which I kept secret and shamefully hidden for so long that having the freedom to express it, to work through it and to, hopefully, help other people in similar positions to myself is hugely healing to me. I think also that in my work I wanted to make a distinction between sex and rape, because rape is not sex but it is violence and sex is something beautiful – no matter how hard you’re fucking it is always consensual. Sex is wonderful – I want to celebrate that.

KD: Where to you get your inspiration?

Fuschia:I am inspired predominantly by my own history, but also materially – by patterns, colours, chance events. I am really interested in

surface decoration, the little details which make up the skin of an object. I also have a fascination with craft – embroidery, needlework, knitting, upholstery, beading – things which were traditionally a woman’s work, I enjoy bringing a new vitality to them when they are placed in an altogether different context – For me, a cross stitch of a pretty house is impressive, but a cross stitch of a vagina is sheer brilliance.

‘My Cunt is a Crime Scene’

KD: What’s the hardest thing about being an artist?

Fuschia: I think that, for me, the hardest thing about being an artist is also one of the best things – Being self led. On the one hand the freedom is wonderful, the ability to just get up one day and say “Today I shall make a wall-hanging entirely out of cotton wool…” – that is a fabulous feeling when you have total monopoly over your practice. On the other hand, however, is awful days of total creative block, despondency, failure… It is about having the ability to be your own critic, but also to know when to stop beating yourself up over your short-comings.

KD: Who inspires you, as an artist?

Fuschia: In the art world my greatest influence has to be Tracey Emin, I discovered her work aged 14 and have been in love ever since. I admire her ability to let the viewer in but still keep hold of the reigns. For me she is somebody who is very real, very human and also very good at what she does. I also admire Sarah Lucas, Elke Krystufek, Nan Goldin, Annette Messager, Ana Mendieta and Francesco Clemente among others. I have also been inspired greatly by the work of author Mervyn Peake. I would also like to take this oportunity to say a big thank you to Sarah Berry for her ongoing support!

KD: What are you working on now?

Fuschia: I am currently working on a project which is far more feminine in appearance, I have become really interested in floral prints and patterns. I have just completed part of this – a large square painting titled “My Not So Secret Garden”, which was inspired by my unease with the common pornographic pose which involves spreading ones pussy lips with ones fingers, I was interested in the dual meaning of the gesture – whether it was an invitation, a sign of vulnerability in exposing our softness – or whether it could be an aggressive gesture, a blatant display of sexuality as something threatening. By combining the image with soft floral shapes and pastel colours I am trying to play with the connotations the familiar pose has…It is work in progress!

KD: What are you working on now?

Fuschia: I am very excited at the moment about our (The Vagina Atelier) nomination for the Erotic Award’s Erotic Artist of the Year, and the possibilities for making new contacts. I am looking forward to seeing what the future brings…

Fuschia’s blog: http:/www.fuschiaayling.blogspot.com

Thank you, Fuschia for giving us a chance to get to know you a little better and to sample a little bit of you stunning art. It’s been a real pleasure you to have you! I wish you all the best in your creative pursuits.