London by Accident, or the Long Way to Get to the Sexy Summer Reading at Sh!

shoreditch2Friday night we ended up in London by accident. That’s right, by accident. Oh we knew where we were going and we had a plan. We were going to hear Justine Elyot and Kristina Lloyd read at Sh! I was so excited. I love it when I get to sit in the audience and listen to my favourite authors read from their works. I’d been looking forward to this event for weeks. Now as you might imagine, I can find my way to Sh! from my house with my eyes closed, I’ve been there so often. It’s the place I love to go for a good time and a friendly natter and a cuppa. That meant, we hopped the train without checking for directions, times. Or DATES!

I had it in my head that I would work on the train both coming and going to London. Oh, I was going to enjoy listening to the readings and being at Sh! and having some catch-up time with some of my favourite people, but I’ve got a short story that I need to write and another novel that needs to be mapped out. I quite often work on my BlackBerry and email the results back home. I was confident I could accomplish a lot and then get back to work on the final rewrite of The Exhibition after we got back home. All business-like — that would be me. Anything to eke out a few more minutes writing or PR time. A writer’s work is never done.

We were nearly to Clapham Junction, enjoying a relaxed ride on an uncrowded train when an email exchange with Kay Jaybee in which I mentioned what we were doing resulted in her email equivalent of clearing her throat and saying, ‘Sweetie, I don’t want to alarm you, but the Sexy Summer Reading event at Sh! is tomorrow night.’

Shoreditch 1imagesEeep! Noooo! Surely I couldn’t have made such a stupid mistake, not super-anal me! But oh yes! I f*cked up majorly! My long suffering husband only offered me a lazy smile and said, ‘Well it’s a good thing you didn’t decide to get a hotel room for the night.’

The Shadow is responsibe! I have no doubt. Anyone who knows a tidbit about Jungian psychology knows that the shadow is the part of our personality that bites us in the butt when we’re taking ourselves too seriously. Well, all I can say is that I have huge bite marks all over my backside!

We were almost there, so the question became what to do when you find yourself accidentally in London on a Friday night? We tubed it up to Leicester Square to check the half-price ticket booths and found nothing that really jumped out at us, nor was there anything at the cinema that we really were dying to see, so we tubed it on over to Shoreditch in spite of the definite lack of a reading at Sh! that night. There’s a kebab place just around the corner and up the street a bit from Sh! that serves the best kebabs this side of Turkey, and I have to admit it, I love a good kebab. We’ve been there often enough the owners always recognize us and greet us with a smile and yummy food. A chicken donner kabab, baklava to die for and a double espresso later and I’m not feeling quite so stupid.

Sh!We decided to drop by Sh! anyway and say hi to the lovely Renee and the delish Jo, who were very busy with the Friday night rush and very sympathetic and kind to the crazy woman who showed up a day early. They were sorry they couldn’t offer us accommodation for the night in the yummy Sh! basement, a place we both agreed would be great fun to be shut up in overnight.

With no real plan in the works and an exquisite warm night ahead of us, we decided to wander about Shoreditch for a little while, especially since I have plans to set another novel there. Then we’d find a nice pub for a pint. If you’ve read my novella, Kinky Boots, then you’ve got a flavour for Shoreditch on a Friday night. Vibrant is the single word I’d used to describe it. Here’s a bit of description from Kinky Boots.

Still, she was in Shorditch on a Friday night. If she were going to end up alone, she couldn’t think of any placeKinky_Boots she’d rather be. It was easy to get caught up in the excitement along the streets lined with bars and clubs and interesting shops. She loved the higgledy-piggledy architecture that often involved glass and steel in the personal space of very accommodating Victorian brick and stone which had already gone through who knew how many marriages of convenience before. All around the concrete ugliness of the sixties groped and nuzzled solicitously at streets that could have come straight from a Sherlock Holms novel. It was a great patchwork of a place, heaving with frenetic humanity all bound and determined to enjoy the hell out of every last drunken, chaotic, celebratory second of the weekend. She was jostled by the enthusiastic spill-over of people with drinks and fags in front of Juno. A hen party pushed past into an off-license. People on the busy pavements crowded onto the narrow side streets impeding the odd taxi or limo.

We spent a little time exploring Shoreditch Box Park – the world’s first popup mall, which was heaving with after-work revellers enjoying the warm night, the gorgeous summer sky and myriad alcoholic beverages. Then we wandered past the intriguing mix of old and new buildings to end up in the Water Poet Pub with a bazillion other Londoners who were enjoying the summer night. We actually found a table and had a pint of Truman’s wonderfully hoppy ale while watching people come and go. People-watching in London is the best, especially in a pub in Shoreditch on Friday night.

box parkimagesFrom there we wandered down the Crown and Shuttle Pub, ending up enjoying a pint of Best Bitter out in the heaving beer garden that was surrounded by a vertical history of Shoreditch in brick and stone. We both decided we needed Kay Jaybee to give us a little industrial archaeological tour of what we were looking at in the mish-mash of bricked up windows and replastered stone walls and the spaghetti bowl of wrought iron stair cases and balconies hanging above us. It was standing room only, and we found a place next the foosball table, leaning against an aging brick wall with a strange blue door that was locked and bolted. It conjured all kinds of speculation on just what might be hidden behind. We watched people and listened to the music and laughter and clinking of glasses as everyone celebrated the beginning of the weekend. Not the night we’d planned, but as we crawled onto our train back home, sleepy and smiling we both decided maybe this was a situation in which the Shadow’s nip in the hiney was well worth it.

If you’re worried that I missed a fabulous evening with Justine and Kristina last night, don’t be! Last night, reassured of dates times, travel cards, venues, and shoe size, we made it to Sh! just in time to celebrate with Justine, Kristina, and the amazing new talent, S. M. Taylor. You may remember a short story competition Black Lace ran last year with The Daily Mail, well it was S.M. Taylor’s wonderful short story, Forbidden, which won the competition. Portia Da Costa, Kristina, and Gillian Green were judges in that competition and S.M.’s story is now published at the end of Kristina’s new novel, Thrill Seeker.

Sh! was fabuouls, as always, and last night was even better because not only were Renee and Jo there but so was the totally awesome Shelly. It was almost like a Sh! family reunion, complete with the indomitable Renee thwarting a shoplifting attempt during one of the readings. Seiously, the Sh! women are a stunning combination of goddesses and super heroes. Move over Wonder Woman!

The evening started with a special guest appearance from Primula Bond, who read from her new novel, The Silver Chain, then romped on with Kristina reading some fabulously evocative and sexy scenes from Thrill Seeker. Then Justine made the room warmer still with two very fun, naughty readings from her collection, Seven Scarlet Tales, spanking stories extraordinaire.

Oh yes! It was SO worth another trip to London! And what have I learned from this adventurous weekend? 1) If one trip to London is good, two is better! 2) Always double-check dates of events. 3) Some things are worth coming back for. 4) Life is short. Take time to play.

Hope you’re all having a playful weekend!

Zak Jane Keir’s Black Heart: No Virgins, No Billionaires, Lots of Heat

On Writing Black Heart

Zak Jane Keir Black Heart postWhile I still haven’t actually read 50 Shades of Grey, I read a lot of the hype and praise – and criticism – of it last summer, and I started thinking about how boring I personally find the whole trope of Vacant Virgin and Bastard Billionaire. I wanted to do something that was about as far away from the standard woman-discovering-true-sexuality-at-the-hands-of-a-master as I could get, and I had this initially vague idea of an older woman and a gorgeous young man. And I decided to make him a musician because I have always been a rock chick with a serious weakness for musicians. That led on to the idea of two musicians in the same band, both of whom lust after the older woman and also have a strong attraction for one another and similar sub/bisexual fantasies.

I already had a ‘universe’ to work in, because I wrote a novella about five years ago called The Master’s Voice, which featured Ricky and Malorie, a couple of switches who run a sex shop and their friend Natasha, a dominatrix. I’ve also written a few short stories set in that world, and I felt as though I had a place to start, although Rosa, Daniel, Gary and Kester were all new characters. I think initially I was considering Rosa as someone who had left the fetish scene to marry some man who turned out to be a loser, or too vanilla, and then she would decide for some reason to go to a club for the first time in years and see Daniel on stage, but that seemed a bit too unoriginal. Also, Rosa was starting to come alive in my mind, and she just wouldn’t have done something like marry a bore; I wanted to make her back story more interesting than that, and also for her to have a reason for leaving the scene that wasn’t actually about having a broken heart or ‘falling in love’ and wanting to give up kinky stuff for the sake of Mr Right.

I’ve been ‘out’ on the fetish scene for years in real life, and I remember what it was like before the Internet was such a big part of all our lives – and also what the early days of online kinkiness were like. People did get terribly paranoid about the possibility of being outed as perverts, even though it was getting less and less of a newsworthy thing by the turn of the century, and also it was very easy for rumours to get a bit out of hand. I had a lot of fun dredging up my own memories of fetish clubs in the past, as well as going to some of the newer ones in the name of research for the present-day scenes.

One other thing I was determined to do was keep away from the concept that everyone is in, or aspires to be in, a monogamous heterosexual relationship. So there are maid-and-mistress relationships that don’t involve any actual genital sex; threesomes, a bit of gender ambiguity, lots of bisexuality and plenty of bondage and beatings.

Blurb:

Rosa’s has tried to put her kinky days behind her, and built a new life as the landlady of a popular pub. But the past isn’t easily forgotten. It seems like her beautiful new barman Daniel really needs a strict Mistress to take him in hand, and it’s Rosa he has a deep submissive crush on.

Natasha, Rosa’s new best friend, wants to help her rediscover her inner dominatrix, particularly now that legendary fetish club The Scarlet House is about to relaunch.

But Rosa’s previous ventures on the scene ended badly, and Daniel’s relationship with the drummer in his band is closer than he’s letting on. It seems like everyone’s got a dirty little secret deep inside…

Excerpt:
Maybe I am a goddess, she thought. Maybe I could be. Up here, adored, admired, all eyes on me and on my… victim? My prey? I could get so addicted.

His buttocks were already marked with stripes from the cane: three distinct strokes, perfectly spaced. They quivered slightly as he shifted his feet, presumably growing impatient for the next anticipated hit. Out there, in the darkness, she could hear the muted roar of the audience: chattering, whispering, encouraging, and she raised the cane again. It felt good in her hand; thin and whippy and just the right length. Her face felt hot in the black leather mask, and her nipples were hard. Down came the cane with a whoosh and a crack, and his whole body jerked, but he didn’t attempt to straighten up.

Zak Jan Keir Black Heart PostTMV coverThis one was a good bottom, obedient and respectful. He appeared to have plenty of self respect as well, and she liked that. She could be remote and cool and untouchable with the grovelling ones and the snivelling ones, but a little bit of personality, a touch of cockiness, those things appealed to her a whole lot more. Another swish, another impact. She’d laid five hard ones on his arse now, and there was one more to go. She licked her lips, drawing out the pause, making him wait for it, making them all wait for it. He wriggled, beginning to squirm, and she realised he was rubbing himself against the whipping stool, that his cock must be hard and in need of relief.

She wondered what was going to happen about that. Would it be considered her responsibility? Did she want to do anything about it? She didn’t want to take him home with her and though she knew that other people sometimes made use of the toilet cubicles for a more direct and immediate release of sexual tension, she didn’t think it would be at all appropriate for her to do so tonight. They were all supposed to perceive her as wholly out of reach, the one who gave nothing away, no matter what rumours they might have heard. That was why she covered herself almost completely in PVC and leather; skintight trousers tucked into high boots, a waistcoat over the corset that pushed her breasts up and out but still concealed all but a tantalising glimpse of cleavage and long, soft leather gloves as well as the mask.

Purchase links

http://www.eburypublishing.co.uk/editions/black-heart/9780753550199

Amazon.co.uk

Amazon.com

About Zak:

Zak Jane Keir has been writing erotica on and off for over 20 years. She has had work published in Forum, Erotic Stories, Fiesta Digest, Penthouse and others. Her published novells incude The Switch and Cathouse And The Castle (out of print, completely unavailable) along with a self-published novellas The Master’s Voice and The Libido Lounge

http://www.lulu.com/shop/zak-jane-keir/masters-voice/paperback/product-5583989.html.

Get Laid by Annabeth Leong

Get LaidBlurb:

Renovators have invaded the home of Jason and Eliza Wu. The two haven’t seen a clean surface in months and, even worse, haven’t had a moment to themselves. With stress in their work lives added to stress at home, the couple desperately needs to have some fun. Jason and Eliza embark on a bold plan to make love and get out of the house—at the same time. Through a series of hot adventures and wild mishaps in the car, at Eliza’s mother’s house, on the top floor of the library and everywhere in between, Jason and Eliza find that not only can they survive renovations, they might even be sorry when they’re over.

A Romantica® contemporary erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

Excerpt:

By scooting the heaviest things out of the way with the side of her thigh, Eliza could open the refrigerator door just enough to slide her arm in and identify a wine cooler by shape. She snaked it out of the refrigerator, but her hand slipped on the sweating glass bottle just before she got it clear. It crashed to the floor and shattered, soaking the lower half of her stockings and the big bags of flour and rice from the pantry with pink, sugary alcohol. Shards of glass surrounded her and Eliza swallowed, thinking of her bare feet.

Her husband responded before she could. “Don’t move,” Jason said. He was barefoot himself, but that didn’t stop him from getting in close enough to sweep her up into his arms. The man might sit behind a desk all day at work, but he put in his time at the gym. His taut muscles flexed around Eliza as he lifted her out of the mess and glass and tucked her against his chest.

Jason carried Eliza to the other side of the room and set her on the table. “Are you all right? Did you cut yourself?” He lifted one sticky, stocking-covered foot in his hand and inspected it for injuries.

“I didn’t get hurt.” Eliza caught his other hand and brought it to her lips. “Thanks, Jason. Really.”

He kissed the side of her face in response, and she wished he’d gone for her mouth instead. She reached to pull him in for a better kiss, but before she could he crossed back to the refrigerator and folded his arms across his chest. Eliza and Jason both sighed.

“I think we’re going to have to throw all this food away because of the glass,” Jason said.

“I’m sorry.” She got off the table and tapped one foot, trying to remember where they’d moved the broom.

“You stay there. I’ll take care of this.”

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

Eliza smiled, a little of the tension easing. “I want to do something really fun at home for our anniversary. It’s five years, and maybe our last chance before we have to grow up for real and behave. We should jump on the beds and have sex on the kitchen table.”

“About that…”

“What?”

“If you haven’t opened the document I shared with you, then you didn’t see the note I made about the latest delay.”

Eliza’s voice darkened. “What?”

“When they checked out the master bathroom, they found a rotten beam. It needs to be fixed, but Bob said it means the job won’t be done until mid-August.”

“But that’s only two weeks before our anniversary! That’s more than a month behind schedule.”

Jason shrugged. He wrapped his hand in a dishtowel and began throwing items from the pantry into a big black trash bag. “I don’t like it any more than you. They have to finish the job eventually, one way or another.”

“He always finds something else! Did you ask him if he’s sure about the schedule this time?”

Jason stood abruptly and stepped away from the mess in front of the refrigerator. “I don’t want you criticizing me for how I talked to Bob. Why did we think renovations were a good idea?”

“Oh, Jason.” Eliza rushed to his side and tried to put her arms around him, but he shook her off.

Her husband rubbed one hand over his face. “I don’t want us to fight again. I want to have a nice time with you tonight. Do you know why I was upset when you got home? I left the office a little early and I was going to straighten up around here and make you dinner. If we could open the damn refrigerator, you’d see I picked up avocados and a bunch of other stuff you like. I got home and found the kitchen like this, and I knew I couldn’t get it sorted out in time to surprise you.”

Jason grunted and tossed a few more things into the trash bag. Eliza hovered nearby, wishing she could wave their problems away and start the fun they both wanted. She found herself staring at his firm ass, trying to remember the last time she’d really grabbed it. They’d always had a good relationship, a hot relationship. She’d been shocked to see how the stress of renovations had reduced them to sniping at each other.

“I miss you, Jason.”

He stopped moving. “What do you mean?”

“I miss your body. When was the last time we really had some time to ourselves?”

“You mean other than time we spend complaining to each other about the renovations from hell?”

“I love that you were going to make me dinner. Really, I do. It’s just there’s something I might need more than dinner. I think we both need it.”

A slow grin spread over Jason’s face. “I may have had an ulterior motive when I decided to make you dinner.”

“I hope you did.” Eliza reached out to him with one hand. “Can’t we clean it up in the morning? We have to stop letting these renovations ruin our lives.”

Jason took her in his arms before she finished her sentence.

Buy Links:
All Romance eBooks
Amazon US
Amazon UK
Barnes and Noble
Ellora’s Cave

 

Bio:

Annabeth Leong has written erotica of many flavors. She loves shoes, stockings, cooking and excellent bass lines. She always keeps a new e-book loaded on her phone and a paperback stashed in her purse, but her eyes are still bigger than her stomach whenever she visits a bookseller. She blogs at annabethleong.blogspot.com, and tweets @AnnabethLeong . Watch for her next contemporary erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave, Design and Scandal.

Finding My Self-Publishing Self by Justine Elyot

It’s always a pleasure to have Justine Elyot over on mine. Not only is she a good friend and colleague, but she’s one of my fave erotica writers, and I’m really excited today because she’s going to talk a bit about her first experience with self-publishing. Welcome back, Justine!

When I were but a lass, there was definitely a stigma attached to self-publishing. Consumer rights shows on TV such as That’s Life often featured vanity presses – shoddy outfits run by unscrupulous gits who would prey on the dreams of the unpublished in order to take their money. Self-publishing proper would only be undertaken by those with the funds to pay for printing and PR. Hardly anyone, then.

Then, digital publishing happened, and everything changed. Self-publishing has gone from a vaguely embarrassing ego trip to a genuinely viable alternative to the traditional method. It seemed like a good time to give it a whirl.

I had on my hands a story that was a bit too short for some publishers and too long for others. It was also somewhat gentler and more vanilla than my usual style and I wasn’t at all sure where it would fit. So I decided to do it myself.

I’ll confess here that it isn’t the first time. I tried it three years ago, through Smashwords and, while it wasn’t terribly difficult, the manual was long and the sales were negligible. But Amazon’s new Kindle Direct Publishing seemed to be changing the game a bit so, after a bit of a confab with a knowledgeable friend, I decided to go for it.

Boy, was it easy. I was prepared to spend days up to my eyes in formatting hell, but no. I opened my account, clicked a few tickboxes, uploaded my file and…go. Well, almost go.

First I had to wrestle with cover art. I’m not good at wrestling, and I’m even worse at cover art. My first attempt has, happily, been excised from history after the brilliant Emmy Ellis came to my rescue and donated this little beauty.

Ask No Questions

It’s been three weeks now, and I can’t say sales have been stellar, but I have the KDP Select weapon of five days free promotion lined up in my arsenal and I’ll be interested to see if it makes a difference.

By signing up to the Select programme, I commit to making the story exclusive to Amazon for 90 days. After that, I can place it on whichever other sites I like. Is it worth it? I don’t know. I’m using this story, in effect, as a walkthrough for a forthcoming novel publication, to teach myself the ropes. It’s an interesting and fun learning experience, and if you fancy going for it, I’d encourage you.

But…what about the book itself? I (don’t) hear you ask!

Ask No Questions is a 32,000 word novella about a sheep farmer and the mysterious pair of legs he finds in his barn during a rainstorm. (The pair of legs is attached to a person, you may be relieved to hear.)

Excerpt? Why, it would be a pleasure!

He gritted his teeth, awaiting Kim’s response, feeling guilty for bringing her this far without thinking of the consequences, not to mention furious with himself. Actually, it was the lump in his trousers that was most furious of all, but he wasn’t about to let it have its way and override his common sense, tempted as he was.

She propped herself on her elbows, blinking at him.

“And?”

“Well, you know. No…protection.”

“Do I need protection from you?”

“Look, I can go to the chemist first thing in the morning but ―”

“Well, that’s all right then. You can do that. And meanwhile…don’t tell me you’ve never heard of all the other things you can do, Mr Demon Lover?”

“Of course I know about the other things.” He began to take off his shirt, his heartbeat regulating, his hopes rising once more. It was OK. It would be OK. “Believe me, I know all about them.”

“That’s good,” said Kim, faux-innocent. “Because I have no idea at all. Please show me what they are.”

He threw his shirt aside and pounced back down on her, bare-chested, hovering over her luscious naked body. She laced her fingers around the back of his neck, pulling him further down so that when he spoke, their lips touched.

“You know fine well, madam,” he said. “You can’t pull the wool over my eyes.”

“Well, you’d know all about wool.”

He nipped at her lip, a warning, then smiled devilishly and shimmied back down until he knelt between her thighs once more.

“You’re not the only one who can tease, remember,” he said, reminding her with a thumbnail flick to one of her nipples.

“Oh God, don’t start that again,” she begged, bucking her spine.

He answered by bending and taking a nipple in his mouth, sucking luxuriously and unhurriedly while she kicked her heels and beat her fists on the rug. This was how he wanted her – frustrated beyond endurance, desperate for everything he could give.

She tried so many different tactics to move him towards her pussy – stealth, force, sweet requests, demands – but he was only going there when he was good and ready, and her nipples were as swollen as they could be.

Finally he released his engorged little captives and knelt up again. He held her eyes as his hand moved down her stomach, prodding at her navel, then lower. He placed his palm flat on her mons.

“Want it?” he asked softly.

“You know, oh God. Yes.”

He dipped his forefinger inside her lips, gathering juice from the pink swirls surrounding her clit. He could see it clearly – it was far out of hiding, as if declaring itself open to him. Come and get me. You bet I will, he said to himself.

But first he removed his finger and sucked the juice from it, watching as Kim’s face contorted with further agonies of arousal. The first taste on his tongue, the sweetest in years.

“Want some?” he whispered, harvesting more and putting his finger to Kim’s lips this time.

 

If you want to read more, Ask No Questions is available from…but I’m sure you’ve already worked it out…AMAZON!

Amazon US
Amazon UK

Grand Openings, Reading Slams and Why I Love my Job!

Note: I apologise for the lack of original photos. My hubby, and event photographer, was home working on a paper this time. Fortunately Kay Jaybee got a shot or two. Thanks Kay!  Otherwise, I hope the word pictures will stimulate your imaginations to share in the fun.

I’m on the bus now heading for Waterloo Station and home. As most writers do, I’m reflecting. So much has happened in the past two days that I only now really have time to take it in. It’s so often the case that I can only take in events after the fact. The pace is too fast, the experience too multi-layered to unravel and sort through when it’s happening.

Canterbury240px-River_Stour_in_Canterbury,_England_-_May_08I’m talking about two readings at two fabulous venues in eight hours, and a whirlwind journey in between. And the best bit, as always, is the people. It’s hard to write when I just want to take it in, let it flow over me again and find the places that stand out, that leap from the canvas of the weekend’s adventure, so I can savour them. London flows by me as I think of sitting in the bar at the Chaucer Travelodge in Canterbury for a late- night planning session with Kay Jaybee in which the words are flowing, inspiration is thick in the air. We ignore the telly whispering softly in the background as we talk plot, characters and sexy reflections, lost in the trance of story that is only yet the seed of something that really excites both of us. We plan and scheme until we’re too tired to continue and they we trundle off to bed.

La Boudoir logoThe next day over coffee with a view of the cathedral, we’re still talking story, even as mentally we prepare for what we’ll read at the La Boudoir Boutique grand opening, preparing for what we’ll wear in the sticky close heat that’s so unBritish. It’s always exciting before a reading, and to have been invited as VIPs is even more exciting. We wonder what to expect and we look forward to finding out.

We arrive in a flutter of excitement, luggage in tow, with Nymphomaniac Ness, who shared our Taxi just in time Kent- kdto watch the photo shoot for the calendar La Boudoir Boutique are doing, with a yummy glass of punch, with a punch in hand, we stand oohing and awing over the amazing lingerie, and I’m chuffed to find a copy of Body Temperature and Rising on the table in the beautiful boudoir that has been created for the photo set. It goes very well with sexy lingerie.

We are given the grand tour by the amazing Violet Hall, who looks lovely in lace, and who has fabulously pulled the event together and invited us to be a part of it all. We chat with Dale Bradford from ETO Magazine, who is there to help celebrate, we meet Jo Hemmings and Victor Ebuwa. We have a few minutes to chat with Cara Sutra and Digital Harlot before we are introduced to all the wonderful people from Adult Sex Toys who have made La Boudoir Boutique a reality, and my mind is a blur of names and faces I wish I had time to connect to a little better.
la boudoir 2DSC08099Kay reads one of my fave passages from The Perfect Submissive to an enthralled audience, and it’s hard to tell just how much of the perspiration on people’s brows is from the hot weather and how much is from Kay’s sexy reading. I read from The Pet Shop, breakfast with Tino, and we all sweat in solidarity as we think of new and sexy ways to eat breakfast.

 

Kay and I admire the changing room with the big sign above the door that reads confessions in stern black letters. The displays are gorgeous, the set-up has a warm and playful feeling to it, with a warehouse brimming with toys, books and other delectables sandwiched in between the office and the main shop. We are told that the striking pole dancing manikin was difficult to find, but on eBay, you can find anything. It’s interesting having her leaning over my shoulder with her long hair tickling my bear arm as I read. Everyone is excited and enthusiastic and friendly. Bubbly is flowing. There are nibbles. And there’s cake! The place is abuzz with the feel of new beginnings, and it’s very easy to get caught up in the playful spirit.

When the readings are finished, Kay and I are led back to the office where we are seated on a comfy leather sofa Kent- kd and signwhile Dale from ETO Magazine interviews us about the trials and tribs of erotica writers in a post 50 SoG world. There’s never enough time, and we share a few more moments with Cara Sutra and Digital Harlot, who is snapping photos with a professional eye. And then it’s time to don our travelling togs and catch the taxi and the fast train back to London for part two of our exciting day.

We share the train journey with Nymphomaniac Ness, saying our goodbyes at St Pancras before we tube it on over to Travelodge Two in Shorditch, a place with which we are quite familiar by now. We chat over a quick sandwich and then it’s time to change clothes touch up lippy, and we’re off to Sh! for the Poetry and Reading Slam we’ve been looking forward to.

Coming to Sh! Women’s Store for a reading event is always a bit like coming home. Renee and Layla are busy at poetry-slamthe till, but not too to give us hugs and a warm welcome. Jo comes up the stairs all aglow from preparing for the event and there are more hugs. Victoria Blisse is there with her fab OH, Kev, neither of whom I’ve seen since Smut by the Sea.  And Victoria has brought snickerdoodle cookies! God, I love that woman! I’m in heaven! Lexie Bay and Doug are there, Lexie in her sexy Lexie shoes, and Jane Fae was there and ready to read.  Jillian Boyd, Meg Phillip, Zak Jane Kier, Mr and Mrs Modesty Blaize are there. There were some amazing poet; Jay Walker, Frantic Ali, Lisa Davies. And it’s a special surprise to have Helen Orford Hula-Hoop Artist affectionately known as Hula-Hoop Girl in the audience, looking lovely and ready to perform later that night.

Wow!I hope I didn’t forget anyone!( I apologise to those for whom I have no links. If you’ll friend me on FaceBook or on send me a Tweet, I’ll add your link, and would LOVE to connect with you. You are all totally amazing!)

Sh! logologo2There’s always something magical about reading the words you’ve written out loud to other people, but there’s even something more magical about doing it with others who are reading their words as well, and there is such an amazing mix of performance poetry and fiction. There are moments of total hilarity and moments that are deeply moving. All of these moments happens in five-minute increments with the lovely Kay Jaybee womaning the stopwatch and the spanker for those who go over their allotted reading time. The pace is fast, the offerings are diverse and spirits are higher than the temperature in the cosy Sh! basement. Though in retrospect, I’m sure the temperature was exceptionally high because of the sizzling readings being offered.  But the lovely Sh! Girlz rose to the occasion keeping glasses topped off with fizz.

As is always the case, reading smut makes for ravenous readers and listeners. The fabulous Bluu Bar, may it rest xmasshop2in peace, has been resurrected as Bill’s Restaurant, and sixteen of us crossed the street from Sh! and descend on the place with lumber-jack appetites ready to eat, drink and chat the night away. The food is eclectic and good and the company is even better. In fact the company is so good that some of us end up over at the bar in the Holiday Inn so that we can keep talking.

Writers talk. They do that a lot when they’re together, and they can’t get enough. I suppose it’s probably because writing is such a solitary vocation, and it often feels like we’re the only ones out there. That’s changed with social media, but still, it’s that time together that inspires us, encourages us, and gets us ready to go back and write on.

It’s well after midnight when Kay and I head back to the Travelodge too exhausted to do much more than nod good night in front of our hotel room doors. It’s been a double whammy for us, and it’s been a good one! I take off my make-up, and brush my teeth while reflecting on being a VIP for the first time and the adrenaline rush of high-speed training from one venue to another to read my stories and how damned much I love my work. I figure it’ll be hours before I am able to slow my mind down enough to sleep. It isn’t. Even in the heat of the unusual warmth and even with the street noise coming in the window from Shorditch night life, I’m asleep almost instantly.

writing image 2In the morning, Kay and I say our good-byes at Liverpool Street Station as she heads off for breakfast with a friend. I meet Victoria and Kevin Blisse at the Polo Bar for a breakfast extraordinaire cheese and mushroom omelette and two, that’s right, count them, two iced coffees while we talk writing and PR and Smut by the Sea and Smut in the City. We linger long after the food is gone because talking never stops when writers are together, unless they all have laptops or notebooks and can spread out at the table and write. As we pay and leave, there’s excitement about going back home and returning to our writing routines. There always is. It’s the thing that binds us together, the thing that brought us together in the first place. We go our separate ways already looking forward to next writing fix and to the next time we come together to read, to talk, to celebrate what we love. I catch the bus to Waterloo Station thinking about the experiences of the day past now that I have time to unwind and hit the play-back button in my head.

I’ve been invited as a VIP to the grand opening of the wonderful La Boudoir Boutique – a VIP – me! And I’ve been invited to read in a reading slam at one of my favourite places with some of my favourite people, and with some people who are now new friends I look forward to getting to know better. I’m back home now, and as I write this, still tired from the wild two days and still trying to sort through the fabulous play-back in my head, all I can think right now is that I love my job. I really, really love my job!