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Shshsh! It’s a Secret: Okay, Not Any More: The Secret Library and Road Trips

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There’s something about being in the closed environment of a car moving down a long stretch of highway, watching the landscape change right before your eyes that’s a little bit magical. One of the best parts of a good road trip is that everything is in flux. I’ve always found it hard to doze when it’s not my turn to drive because I know every second my eyes are closed, an amazing landscape is passing me by.

I was fresh out of Uni and had worked a year in a small market television station in Montana. It was my first holiday. I was sort of on again off again with my landlady’s son, Lynn. He was making a cross country move and invited me to travel along as far as Missouri, where my friends and family were expecting me, and where I had planned to spend my holiday. It seemed like a good way to save money and have a great time, so we headed off across country on a crisp May morning.

We were planning to drive straight through, but ended up having car trouble somewhere in Eastern Montana in the late afternoon. Help came from a truck driver, whose CB radio handle was The Weatherman. We never learned his real name. It was only a temporary fix until we could get to a place that had the part we needed for Lynn’s truck. Lucky for us, Lynn’s truck was equipped with a CB, and he was well-versed in the protocol. When we headed back down the highway, The Weatherman was keeping an eye on us.

We travelled with him, bantering back and forth over the radios almost like we were really travelling together. The three of us had dinner at a truck stop en route. I don’t remember anything we talked about now, and nothing specific about the Weatherman and his life outside the closed environment of his truck. We travelled on through the night, across South Dakota, cosily tucked in our separate vehicles, only the soft crackle and pop of the CB connecting us. Sometime in the wee hours, we stopped at some little all-night diner on the edge of an Indian Reservation for coffee and homemade cinnamon rolls. Just after dawn, The Weatherman left us at some town that had a decent garage and continued his journey. I don’t even remember the name of the place now, but I do remember our sojourn with The Weatherman. For the biggest part of a day, our travels paralleled each other, and we were companions on the journey. Then The Weatherman went on his way, and so did we.

I never saw either of them again. Lynn settled in the DC area, where he had a job waiting. We stayed in touch for a while, then drifted apart. And who knew where The Weatherman ended up at. But for a little while he made our journey a whole lot more interesting.

The view from part of Val and Hawk's sexy road trip in Migrations.

The unexpected journey with The Weatherman is, to some degree, what inspired my novella, Migrations – that and a family trip from hell, which involved my mother, an adult niece and endless miles of whiny country music and audio romance novels. Somehow the two inspired one, steamy, romantic road trip of a novella, which is now in Xcite Book’s fabulous new Secret Library Collection in the Traded Innocence anthology. Each anthology contains three steamy, romantic novellas by some of erotica’s best authors. I feel very honoured to be included in such nasty, romantic, delisious company.

In the following few weeks as The Secret Library anthologies are released, I’ll be featuring some of the fabulous writers of those novellas on my website. The novellas are sexy and romantic and all done up in lovely discrete velvet covers. You can take them anywhere, and no one will ever guess your yummy little secret.

Here’s a little except from my novella, Migrations.

Blurb:

VAL HASTINGS, assisted by her do-gooder cousin, SALLY CLINE, is shanghaied into driving their AUNT ROSE across the US to visit her son. What begins as the trip from hell turns into a sexy adventure when they find themselves sharing the interstate with a mysterious, leather-clad biker. Aunt Rose and Sally are convinced he’s up to no good. But after Val catches him mid-wank at a rest area, and he offers her some steamy help to make her journey more enjoyable, she’s convinced he’s her nasty saviour.

Is HAWK, the biker, a murder, a free spirit, or something else? Whatever he is, animal attraction wins out over caution, as he joins the ladies for a cross country romp that keeps Sally and Aunt Rose nervous and Val hotter than her overheating engine.

Excerpt:

Val nipped the tip of Hawk’s thumb playfully and looked around at the feeding cranes. ‘Bon appetit!’ She called, uttering a startled gasp when he pulled her down onto the grass, his mouth covering hers as he engulfed her in his warmth and his scent.

‘Is this payment for what I owe you?’ She whispered when he pulled away.

‘Only the first instalment.’ He pushed the jacket off her shoulder along with the straps of her tank top and bra and bathed the sensitive hollow of her collar bone in warm kisses and nibbles, causing her to squirm against him.

‘It’s a big one then? The debt I mean.’ She was finding it more and more difficult to think in coherent sentences as he cupped and caressed.

‘You could be in the hotel room with your auntie and cousin watching movies on demand.’

‘Enormous then,’ she groaned, pressing up against him.

‘Mmm. I doubt if you’ll ever be able to fully repay it.’ He insinuated one knee between her legs and wriggled and nestled until his groin pressed against hers, until she could feel the hardness of him through the rub of jeans against jeans. Then he went back to work on her mouth, his tongue dancing over hers and lapping at her hard pallet, as they rocked and shifted against each other, until the friction was exquisite.

He pulled away enough to shove her tank top up until her belly was bare, then he  kissed her just below the waist band of her bra where her ribs came together, causing her to inhale in tight little gasps. He licked and nuzzled his way down to her navel, while he opened her zipper and slid a hand inside the low waist band of her panties, clearing the way for his hungry mouth. She arched up to meet his kisses, as he slid her clothing down over her hips.

It felt as though she’d been waiting forever for this moment, as he caressed and suckled the landscape of her, exploring with his fingers, with his mouth, with his eyes, like Lewis and Clark discovering a new land, like Darwin discovering a new species.

The little moan that escaped his throat against her clit might have been from the feel of her so engorged and open and receptive, or it might have been from the feel of his heavy penis pressing through his jeans. Whatever the cause, she returned the moan and curled her fingers in his hair holding him to her undulating groin. The cranes were all around them, so close she could almost touch a feathered neck or a slender leg. She felt their singleness of purpose as though it were her own, and Hawk felt it too, she was sure he did.

He nuzzled and nipped and licked at the split of her, burying his face in the warm wetness of her, caressing her fullness with deep, expressive lavings. And when she was practically in a frenzy with the want of him, he pulled away and looked up into her eyes, his face glistening with her juices. ‘I don’t want to play this time, Val. I want the real thing. I want all of you. I want to be inside you.’

Buy Links:

eBook

Xcite Books

Print

Amazon UK
Amazon US
Waterstones
Xcite Books

Lucy Felthouse Caught in the Act

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Kojo Black from Sweetmeats Press asking me to write a story for an anthology seems like such a long time ago now. Flattered that he’d asked me, and even more so when I found out who my fellow bookmates were going to be, I then started to panic. The theme was voyeurism – so broad, and therefore a ton of scope. My brain flailed about madly trying to come up with something. And then, finally, my poor abused grey matter came up with the goods.

I’d write about dogging. Of course, never having been dogging, I knew there’d be a lot of research to do, but I was up to the challenge. My laptop keys were bashed, and Google and its deliciously dirty results were exploited. Before long, I knew everything I could ever need to know about dogging – including where my local meeting places were. Let’s just say that I’ll never look at that car park in the same way ever again. 😉

The next challenge was making sure my story would extend beyond my usual 2 – 4k short story range. Kojo wanted something between 7 – 12k, if I remember rightly. Since then, I’ve penned much longer works and am clawing my way towards novel length works, but at the time, I was terrified. I needn’t have worried. It meant that I could create a lot more build up to the climactic scene, which, consequently meant I could tease and torment the fuck out of my lead character. Poor Dave. He never knew what hit him. I turned a perfectly respectable Police Constable into a voyeuristic slave to kinky sex.

And he loves every minute 😉

Here’s the blurb and an excerpt from my story, Caught in the Act, to whet your appetite:

Blurb:

Police Constable David Beckett is just a normal guy, living a quiet life. His only excitement comes from his job – and even that’s not exactly been a barrel of laughs just lately. That is until his colleagues burst into the office one morning, full of tales from the night shift. Tales that cause Dave’s curiosity to get the better of him. Some idle surfing on the Internet opens up a whole world that Dave never knew existed – and he’s fascinated. After watching an amateur video, things escalate quickly and Dave finds himself drawn into a kinky lifestyle that could cost him his reputation – and his job.

Excerpt:

When the door banged open and a group of his colleagues piled into the room, Police Constable David Beckett jumped, almost spilling his coffee onto his computer keyboard. He’d been enjoying a nice, peaceful game of Solitaire before beginning his shift and now they’d screwed his concentration, not to mention his high score. He closed down the game resignedly and wryly observed his workmates as they got whatever was riling them out of their system.

They were jostling and nudging one another, and there was some serious eyebrow wiggling going on. PC Beckett, Dave to his friends, could only guess that one of the guys had a new girlfriend and was being teased about it. Heaven knows, he’d been on the receiving end of such ribbing more than once, which is why he now kept his – currently non-existent – love life as private as he possibly could. Of course, that didn’t put a complete end to the teasing, as he now had to put up with the occasional joke about his sexuality.

Whatever it was they were talking about, it had gotten the guys seriously excited. As they drew closer to his end of the open plan office, Dave began to pick up snippets of the conversation. It didn’t help him to work out what was going on. In fact, it was like they were speaking a different language. He frowned, wondering if there’d been a TV show on last night that he’d missed and they’d all watched. He wasn’t much of a TV buff and was always the last to catch on to shows everyone else was glued to. But of course they’d all been on a night shift last night, so it couldn’t be that. Dave waited. He knew he’d find out soon enough.

As some of the boys began to move towards Dave’s end of the office, it was like they’d only just realised he was there. Instead of shouting the customary greetings across the room and settling down at their own workstations, several of the PCs congregated at Dave’s desk. They were still wearing stupid grins and Dave was, by now, was getting fed up of being the last one in on the joke.

“So,” Dave said, eager now to find out what all the excitement was about, “what’s going on?”

“Mate!” said Tim, “You wouldn’t believe what you missed last night on shift!”

Sharing stories wasn’t uncommon within the office, particularly if they were funny ones. But in their line of work, there wasn’t much that was classed as unbelievable any more, so Dave knew it was going to be something of note. He raised his eyebrows inquiringly.

Tim continued, obviously desperate to impart the news. “We got a call sayin’ that there was some drug dealing goin’ on in a car park. It sounded pretty big, so we did a raid. Only, when we got there, it wasn’t quite what we expected.”

Tim glanced at the other two guys with him, Jamie and Chris, and the three of them burst into hearty guffaws. Dave looked around the room, and a couple of other officers who must have also been there were peering over at them out of the corner of their eyes, with smirks on their faces.

“Well!” he said, getting annoyed now, “What is it? What happened?”

“Fucking hell,” said Jamie, “keep your hair on, mate. You’ll think it’s funny, too, honest. We’re just sorry you missed it. Go on, Tim, get on with it.”

Pulling himself together, Tim looked back at Dave, his eyes still crinkled with mirth. “Sorry, buddy. Anyway, as I was sayin’, we gets to this car park at the back of the country park, you know the one” – Dave nodded his acquiescence – “and drive in. We’re going in pretty stealthy as we don’t want anyone disappearing off into the bushes so when we pull up, they’re still gettin’ on with what they were doin’.”

He paused for breath, and Dave waited, knowing this couldn’t possibly be the end of the story.

“Naturally, we was a bit confused as to why they hadn’t spotted us yet. Normally they’re a bit more alert, aren’t they?” The question rhetorical, Tim continued, “So we got out of the cars and got closer, thinkin’ surely someone has heard or seen us by now. Personally, I wondered if they were all so out of their trees that they had no idea what was goin’ on. By the time we got on top of ‘em, though, we saw what the problem was.”
Dave raised his eyebrows, waiting for the punchline. It didn’t take long.

“They weren’t drug dealers, mate!” he said, clapping Dave heavily on the shoulder, almost making him headbutt his computer screen. “They were doggers!”

Want more? Check out the buy links for Immoral Views and Caught in the Act.

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, House of Erotica, Noble Romance, Ravenous Romance, Resplendence Publishing, Summerhouse Publishing, Sweetmeats Press and Xcite Books. She is also the editor of Uniform Behaviour and Seducing the Myth. 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

Allotted Views and Veggie Wet Dreams

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I already have a reputation for writing garden porn, so when Sweetmeats Press’s fearless leader KoJo Black asked me if I’d write a dirty voyeurism story for the Immoral Views anthology, I knew it had to be garden porn. And here’s why.

Space for veg gardening is at a premium in the urban areas of the UK, and though we live in a bedroom community near London, we still don’t have a lot of space, and we’ve planted up every bit of our garden we can with veg. Every year the lawn gets smaller and the veg patch gets bigger, and we have gardener’s wet dreams of being able to plant all the sweet corn we can eat, or being able to have enough peas to freeze.

Because of where we live, there’s a very long wait for allotments. (For my American readers, allotments are the UK version of Victory Gardens.) We put in for an allotment three years ago. We live in hope. And in the meantime, the lawn still gets smaller.

There are some gorgeous allotments on one of our favourite walking paths set on the edge of the lovely village of Sheer along the Tillingbourne River. Every time we walk that route, we linger and gaze longingly over the fence at the brassicas and strawberries and runner beans and every other veg and fruit imaginable. We do that at every allotment, actually, we give it our best voyeuristic look-see, our pulse rates accelerate, and we talk dirty to each other – you know, compost-type dirty, phallic veg, type dirty, luscious, probing the earth type dirty. Oh yes, how we fantasise!

That was the actual inspiration for my story of Rose, who lives in a big house overlooking the Bluebell Street Allotments, and Jonathan, who is assigned the plot right below her bedroom window. His nasty, unorthodox gardening techniques get Rose’s full attention, and give her hours of filthy, blissful entertainment. But just how secret is her voyeuristic pleasure? Does Jonathan know more than he’s letting on?

Blurb:

When the mysterious JONATHAN takes on the thin strip of bramble-infested ground in the Blue Bell Street Allotments, veg gardener extraordinaire, ROSE, whose bedroom window overlooks his ‘small holding,’ wonders what idiot would take on such a project. When she ‘accidentally’ sees him chanting a bit of woo-woo and having a midnight wank under a full moon in his newly rotovated plot, she suspects his methods aren’t found in any RHS manual.

As watching his late night garden antics becomes more for voyeuristic pleasure than for sussing out sound horticultural practices, and as Jonathan’s garden grows more exquisite with every wank, Rose begins to wonder if there just might be something to a little sex woo-woo in the garden. But can she learn Jonathan’s secret without him learning hers, or will she be forced to come clean?

Excerpt:

Before my eyes, he stepped out of a pair of ratty Birkenstocks and slid baggy cargo trousers off over his straight hips and the pillowed swell of his bottom. He kicked them carelessly to one side. Apparently the occasion had called for commando, and I didn’t have to endure more disrobing before I was treated to the full-on. He was heavy, but not yet erect, hanging as though the weight of his cock was too much to comfortably bear so precariously stretched between his thighs. It sprawled over the rounded outward press of his balls in their cushion of springy curls that looked nearly transparent in the pale light.

The moon was a burnished disk, peeking through the branches of the lime trees on the far edge of the allotments. He stood with his back to it and his expanding personal geography facing my window. Then he raised his head, and my heart did a guilty flip-flop, certain he’d caught me watching. But he couldn’t possibly see me, I reassured myself as he stood there eyes lifted, chest rising and falling beneath the twin peaks of those exquisite nipples, rising and falling almost as though he were about to lift his voice in song and serenade me. But serenading wasn’t what he had in mind.

I held my breath. My pulse was a frantic flutter against my throat. My eyes stung from not blinking, not wanting to miss anything. Then his right hand took control of his penis with a firm grip, a gardener’s grip, a gardener who knew the proper use of his tools. At the moment of contact a shudder ran up his straight spine, and a tight grunt followed by a throaty sigh escaped his parted full lips.

It wasn’t until then that I believed the man was actually going to do it. He was actually going to have a wank right there on his well-rotovated allotment. And at that same moment, my own plan of action became equally evident. I was not going to go back to bed and give the man his privacy, privacy he didn’t even know he no longer had, so would obviously not miss. I was going to stay right where I was and watch. I was going to watch until the fat lady sang, and I was going to have a little diddle of my own. If he could be so brazen to cause such a disturbance just below my window on a work night, then I could be brazen too.

Buy links:

Amazon UK (paperback)
Smashwords

Rebecca Bond Shares the Story Behind Painted Pussycat

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For the past couple of weeks I’ve been featuring a different one of the fabulous writers from the stunning Sweetmeats Press anthology, Immoral Views, and this week’s very talented author is the yummy Rebecca Bond, whose sexy story, Painted Pussycat has a lot more than just ink on the page. Welcome, Rebecca!

Mr Black of Sweetmeats fame is a fascinating chap, full of mystery and intrigue, and when I was first introduced to him by a fellow author I didn’t know what to think as he politely introduced himself before asking me to contribute to a new anthology he was producing. I’m still very new to this game so obviously I blushed from ear to ear and accepted his offer (if I remember rightly, I purchasing a rather nifty little Sh! bullet at that very moment – probably the main cause of my blushes).

So, the theme was set. Voyeurism. Oooooo, tough one for this little miss. I had an idea that had been rattling around my brain for a while, a story based solely on one woman’s love for tattoos, and so this theme finally allowed the idea to jump from my head and out onto the page. I was also thinking of the challenge for the artist who had been drafted in to illustrate Immoral Views; how on earth would he interpret my tattoo-laced words into imagery? *cue sadistic laugh*

The art of inking is something I’ve long been fascinated with. I had my first tattoo when I was only eighteen. Yes, I was a bit tipsy (Dutch courage for the pain, but also not recommended for going under the needle as it increases the bleed!) and if I remember rightly I was skiving off college for the occasion, but from the very moment I was pushed into the artist’s chair, I felt a strange sense of peace. As the needle began to pierce the skin of my back I felt the tension and stress seep from my body and that for me was enough.

What better feeling than one ultimate stress reliever coupled with another – inking and sex! I’m a fan of both so it’s an utter no-brainer – mash them up and what do you get? Well, my friends, you get Painted Pussycat; the story of one young woman’s journey through inking, from the very first prick of the needle, to the full bodied back piece applied whilst suspended on high upon a St Andrews cross on the stage in the concealed theatre in the back of Ink Majestic. May I introduce you to the young Poppy, the innocent Rexxie Belle…?

Excerpt:

“I’ve seen the way you look at them, Poppy,” she said, her voice husky. “I’ve seen the way you look at me too.”

I looked up at her, dazed and confused, not understanding what she meant. She took my hand and led me through the salon and to a curtained doorway at the rear of the shop. I followed warily, but eager to please. We walked down a long corridor to another room. Her office.

Glancing around, I absorbed the decor – the plush furniture, soft and velvet, the bright coloured cushions that dappled the chairs, the art on the walls, abstract designs and intriguing photography hung in ornate frames. Her desk was in the centre. Dark mahogany. Smooth. Shiny.

“Why do you come here?”

I met her gaze.

“I don’t know.”

She smirked at me and came closer, circling my body like a panther stalking its prey.

“Yes you do. Admit it, Poppy, you come here because it makes you feel good.”

I nodded, what else could I do? She was right after all, I did go there because it made me feel good. It made me feel so fuckin’ good, so fuckin’ alive, so fuckin’. . .horny. She went to her desk, opening a drawer and taking out a tattoo gun. I watched, mouth agape, as she lined up the equipment. She plugged in the gun and looked up at me, a smirk on her face and a wicked gleam in her eye.

“Sit,” she said again, tapping the top of the desk with her left hand.

Gripped by fear, I shook my head. No way was I going to let Carrie loose on my skin with that needle. I didn’t even want a tattoo. Or did I? I eyed her cautiously, but soon gave in and jumped onto the desk. She pushed me gently onto my back, her fingers toying with the hem of my plain white tee before pulling it up to expose my torso.

“It’s okay, Poppy. It’s just a little tattoo, nothing to worry about.” She was delighting in this, in the power the ink had over me.

My skin prickled as she brushed her fingertips over me, goose-bumps dappling my flesh.

“Just relax.”

I closed my eyes as the sound of the gun filled the room, the buzz hitting my senses with startling intensity. My loins sizzled in anticipation of the first prick of the needle. Nervous excitement coursed through my veins and as Carrie prepped my exposed flesh I felt myself falling under her spell.

“You ready?” She asked as I stared up at her through hooded lids.

“Yes.”

God, it was amazing! As soon as the needle of the gun pierced my flesh I was under, hypnotised by the way it scratched my skin. I didn’t know what she was drawing onto me and I didn’t care. All I cared about in that moment was the throbbing between my thighs. It felt so good and as Carrie lifted the gun from my skin and announced that she was finished, I was begging for more.

“Oh no, pussycat, not yet,” she purred against my ear.

Putting the gun down, she pulled off her gloves and reached for the button of my jeans. She popped it open and tugged the black denim over my hips and down my legs. I looked at her, a smile on my face. I felt lazy and languid, letting her petite hand cup my mound and her warmth seep through the fabric of my panties. Another revelation. I clearly wasn’t averse to same sex relations.

It felt so right, the way she stroked my pussy through my panties, teasing me with gentle slaps to my cunt. I was mewing for her, bucking my hips up towards her hand, begging for more of her tantalising touch.

“You’re so wet, pussycat,” she said. “This is from the ink. The tattoo is a powerful thing and should never, ever be taken lightly.”

I looked at her and nodded, “it’s beautiful. I want more.”

Her hand was gone in an instant. As were my panties. She pushed my ankles until my feet were flat on the desk and my legs were parted wide. God! It felt so good the first time she touched me like that, her tongue snaking out from between parted lips and licking the length of my slit.

I cried out in unexpected pleasure as she lapped at my cunt, like the cat that had finally got the cream. Her cute, red lips latched onto my clit and lavished the swollen bead with attention. It was better than anything I had experienced. Whether it was due to the adrenaline racing through my veins from the tattoo or because I was finally being touched by another I do not know, but the orgasm that raged through my body was far superior to anything I had ever experienced at the hands of myself.

I glanced down and met her eyes, watching as she continued to feast on my sex, writhing as she nipped and nibbled her way along one plump pussy lip and then the other. She slid a finger inside my warmth and I came again, climaxing as I had never done before.

Carrie stood, smiling as she gazed down at me.

“Here,” she said, “take my hand.”

I grabbed her hand and let her pull me from the desk. I followed her over to the full length mirror that stood in the corner of her office. She touched my skin where the tattoo now existed and whispered in my ear, “beautiful, pussycat.”

“Pussycat?” I asked as she said what appeared to be my new nickname again.

Her nails grazed across my hip and my pulse raced.

“Yes, a perfect nickname for the new pet of Ink Majestic, don’t you think?”

“I. . .er. . .I don’t understand.”

“Poppy, darling, I saw the potential in you as soon as you walked through our door. The way you watched your friend get her tattoo, I recognised it instantly.”

I still didn’t understand. “Recognised what?”

Carrie giggled and kissed my neck lightly, “that you are the one we’ve been waiting for. You, darling Poppy, are The Art Project.”

I gulped. I had no idea what she was talking about, but the name alone terrified me. Her hand smoothed its way down my torso and back to my pussy, cupping me before slipping a finger through my folds.

“You’re so wet. Yes, I think you will fit in at The House just fine.”

 

Buy Links:

Painted Pussycat for Kindle

Immoral Views for Kindle or Print

About Rebecca Bond
Bewitched by the vibrancy of city life, Rebecca Bond currently resides in London with her fiancé, The Boy. Originally from the sleepy English fenlands, she uses a combination of urban and rural inspiration to carve stories steeped in fantasy. Often found spinning her biro of an eve, Rebecca transforms the day’s grind into scribblings of mystique.
Only a year into ‘public’ writing, Rebecca’s debut publications appear in the anthologies, Uniform Behaviour, Seducing the Myth (ed. Lucy Felthouse) and Immoral Views (Sweetmeats Press). She also has short stories in a variety of erotic sub-genres published by Ravenous Romance, Noble Romance, Oysters and Chocolate, The Erotic Woman, Erotica for All and Every Night Erotica.
Further information about Rebecca’s latest releases can be found at www.missrebeccabond.co.uk
Find Rebecca at:
http://www.missrebeccabond.co.uk/
https://twitter.com/Rebecca_Bond
http://www.facebook.com/MissRebeccaBond

Lexie Bay Shares the Story Behind Inside Looking Out

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It’s my pleasure to welcome a quietly rising star in the world of erotica, the fabulous and sexy, Lexie Bay. I have the pleasure of being in between the covers of Sweetmeats Press’s hot voyeuristic anthology, Immoral Views with Lexie, and she’s agreed to stop by and tell us the story behind her sizzling story, Inside Looking Out. Welcome, Lexie!

When Kojo asked me to write a story with a voyeuristic theme I already had a short story that I’d been thinking about expanding on and that’s how Inside Looking Out was born. I love the thought that a chance encounter, a bizarre set of circumstances could somehow colour all of your future sexual experiences.

My main character Izzy catches her sister’s boyfriend in a compromising position and the experience never leaves her. She finds herself chasing the buzz that she felt watching him through all of her sexual encounters and this meant I could put her into all kinds of voyeuristic situations and explore how each one pushed her closer to finding out what she really wanted.

For a long time I’ve been fascinated by the concept of organised sex parties and orgies so I based the main part of the story inside one. Izzy arrives there hoping to find some answers and to push her boundaries even further and the story keeps coming back to her experience there.

I based my characters on people I either know or knew previously. The character of Liam is an amalgamation of people that I used to know. The kind of guys who are obsessed with their car and their sports clothes; with who has the noisiest exhaust or the biggest wheels. Liam is mainly interested in having a cute girl on his arm and getting a lot of sex and he’s happy to do whatever Izzy wants to keep her interested. The place that he takes her was a place that everyone talked about when we were younger. There were always cars parked there late at night and we were fascinated by it.

Chris and Dan are based on a couple of guys I know who are mates. I thought it would be hot to make them mates with benefits so I popped them into a threesome with Izzy and had a lot of fun with them! I know that one of them has read the story and he didn’t seem too upset so I guess it must have worked OK.

I wanted to take Izzy on a journey of discovery and give her the happy ending she deserved but she has a lot of fun along the way before she realises what she was looking for!

Excerpt

“Come Isabella”, he smiled, “I have some people I know you will love to meet.” She followed him over to where there were several booths centred around large circular beds. On each bed couples and groups were playing while others watched. There was champagne on ice and her host handed her a chilled flute. She sipped it gratefully, letting the ice cold liquid slip down her throat, feeling the bubbles on her tongue as she looked around the room. Her hand flew to her heart as she thought she saw Caleb watching her from the corner of the bar. Izzy looked again, unable to breathe. Was it him? It couldn’t be but he was so similar it made her shiver. She sighed. Even the thought of him still had the power to make her feel like her insides had melted. He had coloured every sexual experience she’d had from that first time she’d watched him. It had become a pattern between them that year. Every party she hid in her car and every party he came to her. He was always with a different girl but it ended the same way. A glance, a wink and he was gone.

It hadn’t ended until Katy had caught him red handed at her birthday party. It had been a terrible row and Caleb had never returned to the house. Shortly after that Izzy had left for England, her father proudly sending her off to Oxford University to study English, his dreams of his daughter becoming a successful journalist still intact.

As Victor introduced her to the people at the table Izzy let her thoughts drift to the first boyfriend she’d had in England, the delectably and filthy Liam. Her sexy “bit of rough” as the Brits would say. All she’d cared about was that he reminded her of Caleb.

Buy Links:

Immoral Views Links:  

Amazon UK (paperback)
Smashwords

Inside Looking Out links:

Smashwords
Waterstone’s

About Lexie Bay

Lexie started writing to immerse herself in a fantasy world where women are adored and men fall at their feet.  Then she realised that sometimes men do that so you can stomp all over them in your sexy stiletto boots and since then she’s been creating stories that stay true to her original romantic dream while exploring the erotic, the kinky and the downright filthy.  She finally found the courage to unleash them onto the world and now writes about anything that emerges from the murky depths of her imagination, whenever she gets the opportunity.

Lexie lives with her husband and two daughters in a house by the sea on the south coast of England, and spends her days working as an accounts manager.  She loves chocolate, theme parks, BBQs on the beach and cosy winter Sundays and her dream is to write full time.

You can find her stories in Uniform Behaviour and Seducing The Myth edited by Lucy Felthouse as well as in Immoral Views published by Kojo Black at Sweetmeats Press

Find Lexie at:

http://www.lexiebay.co.uk

http://www.twitter.com/Lexie_Bay

http://www.facebook.com/LexieBayAuthor