Passion from a Distance: Lucy Felthouse and Ian H

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KD: It’s my pleasure to introduce the second in my series of Passionate Partners. For those of you who missed out on the first instalment, Passionate Partners is a series to celebrate erotica writers and their partners who, may help them quietly behind the scenes or a little more in the forefront, but however they do it, the support, the love and the passion shine through. Today I’m welcoming erotica writer and marketing and PR expert, Lucy Felthouse and her passionate partner, Ian H.

Lucy: Lucy is a graduate of the University of Derby, where she studied Creative Writing. During her first year, she was dared to write an erotic story – so she did. It went down a storm and she’s never looked back. Lucy has had stories published by Cleis Press, Constable and Robinson, Decadent Publishing, Ellora’s Cave, Evernight Publishing, House of Erotica, Ravenous Romance, Resplendence Publishing, Sweetmeats Press and Xcite Books. She is also the editor of Uniform Behaviour, Seducing the Myth, Smut by the Sea and Smut in the City. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

Ian: Ian is a graduate of Northampton College, where he studied Hotel Management. From the age of 10, all he wanted to do was work in the catering industry but upon leaving college the last thing he wanted to do was work in catering. Ian has spent the last 12 years as a merchandiser for a software country, travelling the country whilst writing the perfect thriller novel in his head. He just needs to get it down on paper now.

L&I: Lucy and Ian are a geektastic, film, book and history loving couple. They like exploring the British countryside and also travelling abroad when time and finances allow. They’re often accompanied by Lucy’s boingtastic dog, Scamp.

KD:  Lucy, when I first met you and Ian, I thought Ian was the quiet one. Turns out he has a pretty wicked sense of humour, does amazing things with chocolate and whipped cream – in the kitchen, baking! You naughty minded pair! In the kitchen! And Lucy, you’re the quiet one – though certainly not online!  The fact that Ian bakes for you, and the fact that he makes the long journey down south with you for readings and other fun events, AND the fact that he camps with you, convinced me that I was witnessing another one of those passionate partnerships in the promoting and celebration of sexuality through erotica. How did that journey begin for the two of you, and has it always been a team effort?

L: Well, we actually met through work, though neither of us is working for that particular company any more. I was introduced to Ian as an “exotic writer” by one of our colleagues, and after a night out with lots of colleagues, we ended up seeing each other on the quiet for a little while, as people sticking their noses in is never a good thing. Then after a while we went public and it’s been fun ever since!

As I said, Ian’s known right from the beginning about my writing, after I corrected the information he was given – i.e. erotic, not exotic! He doesn’t read all of my work—he’s a thriller fan—but he’s very supportive of it.

I: After our initial meeting we began that oh so modern thing, an online relationship (thank you Facebook, you’re good for something other than wasting my time). After making the mistake of asking if Lucy’s writing is autobiographical, a common question I’m told, we discovered we had many things in common and things have gone from strength to strength since then.

KD: Lucy, what does Ian do to help your writing career that you appreciate more than anything else?

L: He goes on writing-related trips with me, to London, to Brighton and next year to Scarborough, and you never know, maybe further afield one day!

KD: Ian, what, so far (knowing that there are lots more such moments ahead) has been the moment in Lucy’s writing career when you’ve been the most proud of her?

I: There are two such moments for me. The first was when she had her first piece of work published and the second was when she did her first public reading of her work.

KD: What has been the craziest experience you’ve shared in your mutual journey through erotica?

L&I: Ha! Probably when we went to Erotica in London last year. There were many unusual sights, not least adult babies.

KD: Ian, once Lucy begins a new story, how involved are you in the process? What do you consider your most important role when she’s with the Muse? Does it have anything to do with baking her delectable tidbits?

I: I become involved when Lucy needs me to be. Lucy has been known to tap into my love of a wide range of music, which prompted our visit to the Père Lachaise cemetery in Paris to visit the grave of Jim Morrison. This was part research for a future story for Lucy and part hero worship for me. As for my baking, the look of satisfaction on Lucy’s face when she tries my latest kitchen adventure is something I will never grow tired of.

KD: Ian, I know you and Lucy live a good distance a part and only get to see each other on the weekends, do you feel that makes you less involved in her writing career than you’d like to be, or just about right?

I: At times I feel quite detached from Lucy’s writing, but I am never more than an email or phone call way. I also know that she has great network of friends and fellow writers that are always there to help her. I wish I could be more involved, but I always help when I can.

KD: What’s the hardest part of the Lucy/Ian working partnership?

L: I don’t think there’s anything tough about it. Granted, we only see each other at weekends, but that means that I get all my work done during the week and then we are free to do as we please at the weekends with no distractions.

I: Modern technology has removed the hardest part, the distance that separates us. We both now get our work done during the week, so the weekend becomes our time.

KD: What’s the best part?

L: At the moment, it’s been receiving Ian’s comments about the novel I’m writing. I’m sending it to him chapter by chapter and for saying erotica isn’t really his thing, it seems he’s enjoying it. So hopefully I’m doing something right!

I: I love it when Lucy asks for my opinion or ideas, then later I get see those appear on paper. And the novel is going great, and I’m proud that some of the adventures you’ll read have come from my suggestions.

KD: One of the things I enjoy most about the two of you is all the wonderful trips you take on the weekends and the piccies on Facebook. Who plans the itinerary? Do you take turns? What’s the best part about your travels together?

L: We plan things together. Luckily, we like many of the same things, and want to see the same places. So one of us will suggest something, and most of the time, the other person agrees. Sometimes they’ll come up with another suggestion. But either way, we do as much as we can, and much prefer being out and about to sitting in watching TV. The best part of our travels is doing something we both enjoy.

I: It’s a joint effort. We’ve got many of the same interests so we always have many things planned, often months in advance. It is often the simplest things we do that become the most enjoyable.

KD: What’s the best advice the two of you can offer to make that strange and wonderful relationship between erotica writers and their partners run smoother?

L: That’s tough, because everyone is so different. It helps me that Ian is so open-minded, and gets that all I’m doing is writing fiction. I’m just making stuff up and writing it down. He also just lets me get on with it, but is also there to help if I ask.

I: Just to remember that what’s written is fiction.

KD: Ian, though I can speak to the totally delectability of your chocolate éclairs, I just HAVE to ask, what’s your favourite recipe for something totally decadent and inspiring to smutters? A picture? A luscious description? A recipe? *Salivates hopefully*

I: I believe that my chocolate éclairs do take some beating, but I have something planned for our next meeting that might just beat them.

KD: Lucy, what’s the Muse had you up to lately, and what yumminess should we be keeping an eye out for from next from Lucy Felthouse?  I know there’s a novel in the works. Dare I ask for any gossip or tidbits about said novel???

LF: As you know, I’m always juggling several projects at once. I am working on a novel, but I’ve also been taking little breaks and writing short stories, too.

The novel is shaping up really well, I’m almost halfway through my 80,000 words. It has a working title of Stately Pleasures and is an erotic romance, though the romantic twist won’t be apparent to begin with. It’s about a woman who takes a job in a country house, and she ends up having a great deal of kinky fun with the owner and his best friend, the Head of Security. Ménage heaven!

Lucy’s latest release: No Boys Allowed

Three sexy Sapphic tales from the pen of Lucy Felthouse:

No Boys Allowed

When Leigh goes to meet with some potential housemates in a sought-after part of London, all she’s interested in is making a good impression. The last thing she’s expecting is to find out that one of the girls is a lesbian, like her. Kacey’s not home yet, but when she arrives, Leigh knows one thing for sure: she’s smitten. But will her feelings be reciprocated?

Something in Common

Nerd and amateur photographer Justine is partaking of one of her favourite pastimes—visiting a historical site—when she bumps into Amber. It turns out they’re both equally enthusiastic about exploring stately homes, abbeys, stone circles and the like—and their surprise at meeting someone with similar interests leads them on another adventure together, which doesn’t end at the site.

Little Miss Goody Two Shoes

Izzy and her girlfriend are visiting a beautiful stately home in the British countryside. Taking a stroll around the garden, Izzy’s shocked to see a statue of a female—totally naked. Her girlfriend, astounded that Izzy is such a prude and a Little Miss Goody Two Shoes, proceeds to show her just what fun can be had in a country garden with a statue to hide them from prying eyes.

More info, excerpt and buy links: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/no-boys-allowed/

Food Porn and Naughty Fairy Tales with Elizabeth Black

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It’s my pleasure to welcome back to A Hopeful Romantic Elizabeth Black with more delicious naughty fairy tales. And when I say delicious, I mean as in yummy, let’s eat! Welcome Elizabeth!

I like food porn because I love to eat, especially unusual foods. I’ve had sea urchin, fried conch, and li hing mui. I drink Pokari Sweat. I haven’t had durian fruit yet but it’s on my list and I know where to get it. I hear it tastes and smells like a combination of rotten onions and smelly gym socks. Yuck!

I have eaten all of the foods I name in my novella “Climbing Her Tower” (my erotic version of Rapunzel). There’s something erotic about food. The textures make my mouth come alive, and the flavors simply explode over my tongue. Even eating a lowly strawberry can be a decadent experience. Give yourself time to enjoy and savor a fruit or sliver of meat. Don’t woof it down without even giving your tongue a chance to taste it. Eating should be a sensuous experience. If you don’t have an orgasm in your mouth, you’re not doing it right.

Taste and smell go together, too. I’m sure you’ve noticed how food tastes bland when you have a stuffed up head from a cold. Try this experiment: hold your nose and blindfold yourself. Have someone give you a slice of onion and a slice of apple but not tell you which one you are eating. The difference in taste won’t be as great as you think it would be. So inhale the aroma of your food before you take that first bite. Breathe whilst you eat. Enjoy the full experience of food so you get the most out of your meal.

So, you want to know what li hing mui is? Read my excerpt below, and find out! This snack is common in Hawaii. My husband lived there when he was a child, and he couldn’t get enough of the stuff.

CLIMBING HER TOWER (EROTIC RAPUNZEL)

BUY LINKS:

Amazon US: http://tinyurl.com/climbing-amazon-us

Amazon UK: http://tinyurl.com/climbing-amazon-uk

B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/climbing-her-tower-elizabeth-black/1113575061

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/240609

Sony: http://tinyurl.com/climbing-sony

BLURB:

Rapunzel has never known life outside her tower. She has never felt the company of a human being other than Mother, and she has never been in close contact with a man – until Prince Richard of Norwich climbs into her tower one dark night and sweeps her off her feet. Prince Richard introduces Rapunzel to erotic pleasures beyond her wildest dreams, and she wants more! In order to make her both his wife and his sex slave, Prince Richard needs to spirit her away from that tower, but Mother stands in his way. Prince Richard and Rapunzel begin a tantalizing and dangerous adventure in order to be together as one. And “let down your hair” takes on an entirely new meaning in their fevered embraces.

EXCERPT:

“I come bearing gifts again, my love. Since you were good little slut I have treats for you.”

He opened a container and held out to her a wet, round, whitish ball with a hole in the center as if a pit had been removed. She reached for it but he pulled it out of her grasp. With a smile, he placed his fingers at the sides of her mouth and squeezed until her jaw popped open. Mouth open and head facing upward, he held the ball over her face and slowly slid it between her lips. Her tongue darted out to lick it, not quite sure what she tasted. She took a bite out of the ball and immediately sweetness overwhelmed her palate. Eyes wide with delight and hunger, she begged for another bite. He fed her and she took a little at a time, relishing the delicious sweetness of the fruit.

“You like? These are lichees. A delectable fruit from Asia.”

“We’re nowhere near Asia. How did you get them?”

“From the Asian market just up the street. I brought you several Asian foods to try today, just for something different. Now let me give you something a little unusual.” He pulled a clear bag out of his knapsack and pulled out what looked like a wizened purple stone. “Suck on this and tell me what you think.”

She took the curious item into her mouth and immediately her tongue and cheeks clenched at the sour, salty taste. What on earth is this? I have no idea whether or not I like it. She sucked on it a little longer until she adjusted to the strange taste, and found that she enjoyed it. Her mouth watered at the sourness and the tart taste burned itself into her tongue. Her prince gave her experiences unlike any she had ever had before, and now he introduced her to bizarre food. Once the stone softened she chewed on the meat until there was nothing left but a gnarled pit. She spat the pit into her palm and smiled at him.

“So what do you think?” he asked.

“I like it, although I have no idea what it is and it’s the strangest thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“It’s called li hing mui, dried plums. They’re an acquired taste. I’m glad you like them although I really didn’t expect you to,” He grinned. “I give them to all my friends and watch them cringe.”

“I understand why. May I have another?”

“I’m giving you the whole bag, but you must hide it lest your mother find it. If she finds the bag you’ll be in a world of trouble.”

“I know. I have plenty of places to hide things. So what else do you have for me?”

“Ah, I have something you’ll love,” He pulled a small bottle out of his knapsack and a spiked ball and sat them on her table. “This is a pineapple. You eat it.”

“How do I eat it? It looks painful.”

His laugh was so sweet it lit up his face. “Not as it is, you silly thing. I need to cut it first.” He pulled a knife from his knapsack, since Rapunzel was not allowed to have sharp objects in her tower. Once he sliced the pineapple the delicious scent of citrus wafted over her head. He cut a slice and held it out to her.

“Open your mouth, slave.”

When her tongue touched the fruit her taste buds exploded with sweet pleasure. Oh, my! This is the most delicious fruit I’ve ever eaten! Mother has never given me anything like it. She closed her eyes and chewed slowly, relishing the flavor and texture of her latest delight from her prince.

“I also brought this bottle for you,” She opened her eyes to see him release the cap and the same smell of pineapple overwhelmed her senses. Ah, I see what he’s doing. He wants to saturate me with flavor and smell. “I won’t tell you how it works. Instead, I shall show you. Now lie down on the bed.”

 


The Taming: Part 3 of The Pet Shop — FREE!

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I’m very excited to announce another FREE taste of my critically acclaimed novel, The Pet Shop! Alongside the original novel, The Pet Shop is now being offered by Xcite in a limited Kindle edition three-part series. Part Three, The Taming, is now available for FREE for the next five days on Amazon beginning on Wednesday Wednesday, 14 November.  And, since Xcite is only too aware that Pets are addicting, to help feed your addiction for hot kinky romance, Part One, The Gift, and Part Two,  The Secret Life of Pets, are just £.77 each in the UK and $1.19 in the US. Remember, The three-part version of The Pet Shop will get you the same delicious story as the novel, only in three smaller packages to keep you titillated and teased with yummy bite-sized morsels. Enjoy!

(Just a quick reminder. If you’re an early bird on the other side of the Pond, the U.S. link may be available a few hours later than the UK link because of the time change. But be patient, and naughty FREE Pets will swiftly be coming your way)

Here’s a little teaser of what you’ll find in The Taming. Remember, though the download of The Taming is free, it’s anything BUT tame.

Blurb:

Reclusive philanthropist, Vincent Evanston has told Stella James she can have Vincent or she can have Tino, the Pet, but she can’t have both. The problem is Stella wants both. As the complications of wanting both sides of a man who can’t allow himself to be whole mount, Stella must walk the thin line that separates the business of pleasure from the dangerous business of the heart or suffer the consequences.

Excerpt:

‘It’s not bad enough they saddle me with Tino, now I get his female counterpart.’ The familiar handler in his black suit pushed his way in and started tugging at Stella’s clothes. ‘Do I have torture me written across my forehead? Is it bad karma? I swear I don’t know what I did to deserve you two.’

She tried to shove his hands away. ‘Look, I just can’t do this. I was told that once I was out I was out, and I just can’t do this. I want out, alright?’

‘Bullshit! Of course you can do it, and it’s not alright, now get out of your clothes and stop talking or I’ll have to spank your arse, and don’t think I won’t do it. Fuckin’ hell, first Tino, then you, and now both of you. They don’t pay me enough for this.’

Suddenly she stopped fighting him and he continued with the stripping. ‘Did you say Tino? Tino’s with you.’

‘I’m speaking English, aren’t I?’ He gave her a resounding smack across the arse he’d just bared and shoved the trench coat at her. ‘Get into this, and you’d better manage to at least act horny when you get there ‘cause I don’t have time to strap you into the Foreplayer.’ He smacked her bottom again, then wrestled her into the coat and jerked the sash tight. ‘Now give me your keys and let’s go unless you want your arse and Tino’s spanked soundly by your keeper for being late when you get there. Tino might like that just fine. Not sure how your tender little bum would hold up.’

She was trembling so hard by the time she got to the van that the handler had to help her in. He had taken the trench coat and shoved her into the large pet carrier before she realized she was sharing it with Tino, who scooped her to him in a tight embrace, and the delicious scent of the big Pet filled her nostrils and made her cunt clench and her pulse race. But it was Vincent’s smell too. Her nose wouldn’t be fooled this time, no matter how differently the two of them behaved. And the clench in her cunt was followed quickly by an even harder clench in her heart and a knotting in her stomach as she thought of waking up to find him gone. What the fuck kind of game was he playing?

With a growl that sounded too wild to belong to a Pet, she shoved her way out of his arms and elbowed him in the stomach generating enough momentum, even in the confined space, to make him grunt. The look of hurt on his face made her even more angry. How dare he be hurt? She wasn’t the one who ran away, and she’d had about enough of this emotional bate and switch. When he reached for her again, she bit him, hard. He sucked air and flinched. She wasn’t certain, but she thought he might have actually had to wrestle back a curse.

She shoved her way to the far corner of the pet carrier, banging her head on the side as the van driver took off. The handler, who stayed in the back with the pets pounded on the top of the cage, clearly misunderstanding what was going on.

‘Tino, you keep your cock to yourself until I get you there, you hear me? If I see any sign of spunk, or smell it, I’ll tell your keeper to tie that cock of yours in a knot and make you hold your load all weekend, you got that?’

Not if hell freezes over will he find any spunk, at least not any having to do with her, Stella thought.

She could see Tino’s pulse pounding against his throat, and his chest rose and fell like he would hyperventilate. And he was hard. He was always hard, damn him!

She pressed her cheek to the side of the Pet carrier and tried to ignore the way his gaze bore into her, tried to ignore the press of their legs, which was unavoidable in the tight space. And the smell of him. My god, how could she ignore the smell of him? She dreamed of his scent. She masturbated to thoughts of his scent, and here she was trapped with it, and aching for it, and still so furious she could barely breathe. She wanted to yell and scream at him, she wanted to know why, why he had left her. What game he was playing?  Instead she sat with her back pressed as tightly to the slats of the carrier as possible and tried to ignore him.

The next time he reached for her, she slapped him, slapped him hard enough to make her hand sting.

‘What the hell are you two up to?’ The handler rattled the pet carrier again. ‘If I have to drag you both out and wear the spanker out on your bottoms, don’t think I won’t. Now knock it off.’

Stella pulled herself as far into the corner as she could get and tried to ignore the smell of Tino’s arousal, made even more obvious by his erection bobbing against his thigh, the thigh he made no effort to pull out of her space. She shoved at him. But he didn’t budge. She tried to turn her back on him as much as she could, but he pushed in still closer, not allowing her to ignore him.

He kept pushing at her and pushing at her until she kicked at him, which was useless with bare feet in such tight quarters, but he took the opportunity to pounce, nearly upsetting the pet carrier. The handler cursed and uttered a string of threats, most of which Stella didn’t hear because she was fighting to keep from being pinned under Tino.

The van screeched to a halt with both pets being shoved by the momentum to the front of the carrier. Then the carrier door flew open and Tino was wrestled out by the handler and the driver. ‘Goddamn it, I said knock it off!’ The driver held Tino while the handler hooked his collar to a short lead and a pair of hand cuffs that were attached to the wall of the van, then he stormed out of the van and Stella could hear him shouting into his mobile something about all hell breaking loose.

Tino ignored it all, as though nothing else in the world had his attention but her. His gaze was now unreadable, possibly a little more like Vincent, but then how the hell could she tell who he was playing at. The van driver stepped out to have a fag, and she took advantage. ‘You left me, you son of a bitch. You left me without telling me why.’

She swallowed the last word as the door to the van burst open and the handler shoved his way back in to sit down next to Tino. ‘Lucky for you two miscreants the Professor assures me he’ll have no trouble handling misbehaving Pets. I think he rather likes the idea. The thought of you two being soundly disciplined definitely warms the cockles of my heart.’

The driver got back in and the van headed back down the M 25. This time the look on Tino’s face was utterly wounded, a look she couldn’t bare. She closed her eyes fighting back tears.

From Amazon.com

The Taming

The Secret Life of Pets

The Gift

From Amazon.co.uk

The Taming

The Secret Life of Pets

The Gift

The Sexiest Words — the Relationship Between Poetry and Prose

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I’m so excited to welcome Ashley Lister to A Hopeful Romantic. Ashley’s the man  who would definitely know a thing or two about sexy words — poetry and prose, and I’m delighted that he’s going to share a few carefully chosen sexy words with us!

I’m a word nerd. I love to read words from the page and the screen. I love to savour the sound words make when they caress the ear. I love to appreciate the texture of words on the tongue. I can happily spend and invest and squander hours deciding which word is most appropriate for a specific situation.

Aside from being a writer I also teach creative writing. This means, when I’m not enjoying a day immersed in words whilst I write fiction, I’m having a day with students who are each fostering their own appetites for words.

During my free time I’m sometimes lucky enough to have writing colleagues ask me to blog with them. The superlative K D Grace asked me to visit here to discuss my opinions on the relationship between poetry and prose. I’m sure she picked that topic because she knows it’s close to my heart.

I believe the relationship between poetry and prose is neglected at a writer’s peril.

Even though a lot of my students have a strong desire to write fiction I always make sure I introduce them to poetry early on in my courses. I do this because I sincerely believe poetry leads the way to the sexiest words.

This is not a new opinion.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Back at the beginning of the nineteenth century, the philosopher, critic and poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge said, “I wish our clever young poets would remember my homely definitions of prose and poetry: that is, Prose is words in their best order; Poetry, the best words in the best order.”

I have always agreed with this sentiment. You can call me materialistic but I think there’s not much sexier than experiencing the best. To my mind, introducing the standard of poetry into our prose should make everything we write sublime.

However, not everyone sees poetry in such positive ways. Some writers genuinely fear verse. I’ve seen talented multi-published writers cower from the prospect of producing poetry, convinced that it’s beyond their abilities or unrelated to their desire to write something engaging or entertaining. Perhaps there’s a streak of sadist in me, but I do enjoy watching people tremble as they try to manipulate words from outside their comfort zone. To me, whether I’m writing, teaching, blogging or producing poetry, that’s the seat-of-the-pants thrill of writing.

I was once trusted with the education of a class of computer programmers.

I was trying to teach them the basics of interactive narrative – the mechanics of writing fiction so they would have a better understanding of the dynamics of producing story-led computer games.

It was the challenge of producing poetry that had most of them close to sobbing with confusion and frustration. The reaction first came about during a lesson when we were discussing haiku.

For those of you unfamiliar with the haiku, the haiku is our Western interpretation of a Japanese form of poetry. The traditional Western method of writing haiku is based on a rigid syllable count for a three lined form: 5/7/5. (There are modern interpretations of the haiku, writers such as Jack Kerouac and Ezra Pound are amongst those who’ve taken the simplicity of the haiku and eschewed the rigid limitations of the 5/7/5 syllable count. However, the computer programmers in my class were writing to the restrictions of the traditional form).

I have yet to experience a more entertaining afternoon’s teaching.

I was dealing with a class of students who understood the complex inner-workings of computers. They had reprogrammed social-networking systems. They had written software to programme industry robotics. And they were sitting in my class counting syllables on their fingers and thumbs. They were arguing over the number of syllables in words such as hire, peel and sure.

The poems they went onto produce were good. The stories they went onto write for computer games were surprisingly well-considered. I don’t think they would have achieved such a level of considered work if they hadn’t been thinking about their output from a poetic point of view.

Poetry, I agree, does not work for every writer. Some people enjoy the challenge but others find it too daunting. However, it can’t be denied that poetry gets writers to consider the words they use in ways that are wholly different from the way a writer selects words for prose. And if poetry can get writers to reconsider their word choices, then it’s more than valuable: it’s invaluable.

Ashley Lister

Ashley Lister is one of the regular contributors at the Dead Good Blog (http://deadgoodpoets.blogspot.co.uk/)

The Best Time!

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I don’t know about you, but I’ve certainly been waiting for the Best! The Best of Kay Jaybee, that is. And now the waiting is over. The Queen of BDSM herself, is here to tell us all about her new release.

I can’t quite believe how much has happened in the last few months! A new novel (Making Him Wait, Sweetmeats Press), a re-launched book (The Collector, Austin & Macauley), and now The Best of Kay Jaybee is out- A collection of my very own- I can’t quite believe it!!

It’s all SO exciting!!!

The wondrous KD has invited me along today to give you a tasty taster of one of the fourteen stories- here’s the blurb to start with!

Fourteen of the very best erotic tales of dominance, submission, bondage, and romantic lust, are delivered with lashings of kink from the pen of Kay Jaybee. From the sexual adventures recalled by a woman as she stares at her favourite shirt, to a deliciously dirty orgy on a bed of cardboard boxes, the after-hours education of a rookie soldier, and the bizarre obsession of an Egyptologist, each story shows why Kay Jaybee has been hailed as ‘a master of the craft of erotica’ (Oysters and Chocolate). As a girl writes messages of lust on the body of her best friend’s lover, and a mistress’s employment of ropes and chains on her slave co-insides with the application of emulsion, we discover just how Kay has earned her reputation for producing ‘super-heated kinky stories,’ (Kd Grace), which are ‘a sublime pleasure to read’ (Violet Blue). 

****

So which of the fourteen tales do I share with you? A touch of erotic romance, a threesome, some BDSM kink…? Decisions decisions…

How about some museum erotica…Egyptology department I think…

Bastet

Before he got the job behind the scenes at the museum, he had imagined that the place would be dusty, dark and perhaps, considering the contents of the room, eerie. This was not the case.

These carefully collected items had finished their time amongst the dust and now lived in a spotless, sanitised environment. The lighting was just bright enough to be able to work by, yet not bright enough to damage the precious remains. There were only two things that he found mildly uncomfortable about the working conditions; the first was the temperature, a constant tepid, which was too hot in the summer and freezing cold in the winter. The second was his boss.

He was aware that she often watched him. If they’d worked anywhere else, then perhaps he would have been worried about what their colleagues would think, but here it was just the two of them. Just him, his boss, an open stone sarcophagus, two mummies in the final preparations of being made ready for display, several priceless bronze statutes, some chipped but irreplaceable Canopic jars, and drawer after drawer of miniature Egyptian statues; votive offerings to the Ancient dead.

There was something very cat-like about his senior colleague. She was as tall as he was, slim, but with a hardness about her; she had slick black hair, which swung from side to side as her feline body moved around the room. No, that was wrong, she didn’t move, she slunk, she glided. Her eyes, a brilliant green, were wide, shiny, and always accentuated by heavy black kohl. At first he’d wondered if she used false colour contacts, but had a feeling she probably didn’t. Perhaps she’d always been like this, or maybe ten years amongst Egyptian paraphernalia had turned her into a living representation of the cats that ancient race venerated so highly.

He shook himself out of his thoughts, and concentrated on carefully revealing the latest object to be leant to the museum for the forthcoming ‘Ancient Death’ exhibition, before he could head home. A mountain of polystyrene chips quickly removed, he donned a pair of thin medical gloves to pull out the hidden contents of the crate.

As he bent to put his hands carefully around the unknown item, he could feel her behind him. She never made any noise when she moved, but he knew that she was there by the warm breath that now tickled the back of his neck. Ignoring her, and the rather confusing and frustrating semi-aroused state her presence seemed to keep him in, he carefully uncovered the muslin clothes that provided the exhibit’s final layer of protection.

They both gasped in wonder as he revealed the beautiful treasure that lay before them. Carved from wood, its paint faded, but not gone, a death mask stared back at them. He’d never seen anything like it, for it was not the mask of a boy or a man, but of a cat. Human sized, the mask represented the cat goddess, Bastet.

His boss stretched out a thin-gloved hand and stroked the mask with a single finger, before sliding her body in front of his. Audibly holding her breath, she took a firm hold of the artefact with both hands and heaved, releasing it fully from the travelling box. It was perfect. Light but sturdy, its back strap complete, a priceless tribute to a forgotten goddess.

Despite knowing a great deal about Ancient Egypt, but for the fact that cats were sacred to them, he knew few details about their feline obsession. His boss, her chest visibly heaving beneath her black, skin-tight top, began to whisper in awe, half talking to him, half to the mask itself.

‘I’ve seen smaller versions of these in bronze, and I know that wooden cat coffins were regularly made, many hundreds were found at Bubastis, the biggest centre of cat worship, but I’ve never seen …’ Her husky voice trailed off and her eyes sparkled. This object, this rare find was actually turning her on; he could see her nipples poke out and harden beneath her top as she handled the rare find.

Even before she did it, he knew what was going to happen next. He turned so he could watch her as, with an uncharacteristic disregard for preservation, she placed the mask over her head, trapping her sleek hair beneath its wooden strap. Dropping to her knees, she purred around his feet, rubbing her arched back against his legs as if she was a cat showing affection.

His mouth went dry. Common sense told him that the situation was insane, but curiosity and the erection that dug against the side of his trousers, told him that he needed to see what she’d do next.

She stood and, from beneath the mask, commanded him to remain exactly where he was. He didn’t move as she prowled over to the large cupboard at the back of the room.

When she reappeared a few moments later, she was naked but for the mask. Gulping at the sight of the firm flesh about which he’d often fantasized he stared. She seemed to glow as she stalked towards him, her prey, every inch the cat goddess. The living Bastet.

He felt clumsy, unworthy and, at a signal from his boss, he knelt before her, humbled and wanting. It no longer felt mad, just incredibly sexy.

She circled around him three times, muttering words he didn’t understand, his eyes following her, his lips now moist, hungry to feast on this extraordinary figure.

‘Follow,’ she commanded as she walked away from him, towards the large wooden table they used to examine, preserve and analyse the historical artefacts that came their way. He went to stand, but a sharp gesture from her hand made it clear that he was supposed to crawl after her.

This was so new to him; he’d never subjugated himself before a woman, before anyone. It felt strange, suffocating, and belittling, yet at the same time, oddly liberating, as if the pressure of taking control and ensuring the woman’s pleasure had been lifted from his shoulders.

He reached the area of the polished tile floor by the table and waited, subservient. She crouched down and tilted his head up with a single finger so he could observe her. Her bronzed skin shone with a gloss that radiated under the artificial lights. Her hands, their slim fingers topped off with turquoise nail varnish, began to fondle her breasts and caress her torso, stopping short of her neatly trimmed pussy hair, she teased herself as well as her waiting slave.

With an effort, made plain by the whimper the mask failed to hide, she halted her self-stimulation and placed her hands on her hips. ‘Dog, you will serve me.’

Dog? He was a dog? It hadn’t occurred to him, but surely dogs had been powerful gods in Egypt as well, Anubis for example. Then he remembered, even the God of the Dead could not harm a living cat. For a split second he decided he didn’t want to play her bizarre game anymore, but then she changed his mind…

If you fancy finding out what happens next, or seeing what other stories are buried in the e-pages of The Best of Kay Jaybee, then you can buy it on Amazon UK and Amazon US.

Amazon UK–

Amazon US

You can find further details of this anthology, and all my other novels, novellas, and story collections at my web site- www.kayjaybee.me.uk

A huge thank you to KD for inviting me to her superb site!

Kay xxx