Tag Archives: erotica reading

KoJo Black and Sweetmeats Press Offer a Feast for the Eyes Part 1

KD: I recently had the pleasure of writing a story for the yummy new Sweetmeats anthology, Immoral Views. Immoral Views is not only a fabulous feast of voyeuristic erotica, but it’s even more of a treat for the eyes because it’s illustrated, very naughtily, by the talented Florian Meacci. Filthy stories with equally filthy illustrations are the brainchild of Sweetmeat Press’s captain of naughtiness, KoJo Black, who titillated me with so much delicious info in this interview that I’m only going to share the first half with you today. Come back Sunday for further titillation. Welcome, KoJo!

KD: What would you most like people to know about KoJo Black?

KoJo: Like anyone, I suppose, I have many guises.  But as an author and a publisher, I am most proud of being an immodest, unrepentant and dissolute eroticist.  Thinking about it more, I must be what the French would call a ‘gourmand’.  This word doesn’t quite carry into English, where it simply means ‘greedy’.  I prefer the French definition – that of a person who loves to taste, savour, indulge and immerse.  I find myself describing so many things as delicious – words, people, places, sensations, food, experiences.  And it is this idea of finding and promoting the excitement, the deliciousness, in all things (with a stout and proud thrust toward the carnal) that I try to bring the books I write and publish.

And it was that ideology that brought the ‘Sweetmeats’ name into being.  This idea of whisking up deliciously debauched erotic treats for people to savour and share – that was with me from the very start.

KD: What I’m dying to know, KoJo, is what inspired Sweetmeats Press, and how did it come to be?

KoJo: Sweetmeats actually began as a film production company.  And the ethos with which I produced the films has carried through into the books.  When I began making films, I wanted to offer something that was a cut above the average porn emporium.  I think the lack of sensuality and connection in the world of porn serves to highlight how many pornographers are completely disconnected from erotica.  I was firmly convinced that porn not only could be erotic, it MUST be erotic.  Even then, the moving picture started with the written word.  Sweetmeats Press has simply allowed me to re-indulge in the written word.  And, with a nod to the films, the Sweetmeats books are, as you know, beautifully illustrated.

Frankly, I think I’ve always been somewhat sex-obsessed.  And some of my earliest and most delightful sexual memories involve the spoken or written word.  As a youngster, I remember being forbidden from watching cable access television in my family home.  Of course, I would always try to access the restricted channels in the hope of capitalising on a lapse in regulation, and catching just the curve of a buttock, or the pucker of a nipple.  One evening, the picture was completely scrambled, but the sound was crystal clear.  The film featured a woman re-enacting lascivious acts during a phone call to her lover.  I couldn’t see a thing.  But the female voice, heavily baited with lust, along with my total inability to see what was happening, created a voyeuristic effect that was more exciting and erotic than the actual film.

At around the same time, erotic literature provided some of my earliest sexual arousal.  I remember, as a schoolboy, scuttling home with a contraband Penthouse magazine in my book bag, and letting the stories in the Forum give me hours of pleasure.  Then, slightly older, I remember being amazed and enthralled at the raw, sensual power of Anaïs Nin’s The Delta Of Venus, Henry Miller’s Sexus or The Story Of O.  Not only did I find the stories themselves extremely sexual and erotic, but I also reveled in the naughtiness of reading something so brazenly explicit — especially something written at a time when so much was forbidden and restricted.  So perhaps it was a childhood ambition to follow in the perverted footsteps of my heroes!

KD: Immoral Views is a collection of stories written around the theme of voyeurism. Do you consider yourself a voyeur? If so, do I dare ask for one of your ‘eye-sex’ encounters???

KoJo: I am a complete voyeur!  I’ve said in the intro to ‘Immoral Views’: “I like to watch people doing sexy things – sometimes to themselves, sometimes to each other.  And I know I’m not alone….”  I wasn’t just making that up.  It’s entirely true.  And it’s also true that I know I’m not the only one who likes to watch.  One struggles so hard to maintain an air of appropriate decorum throughout the day.  It is wonderful to slip into the pages of a book (either as a reader or a writer) and proudly raise one’s pennant of perversion!

In answer to your ‘eye-sex’ question, one incident does indeed stand out.  A few years ago, I was relaxing in a cliff-top bar on a small island in Thailand.  On the beach below, a beautiful woman was bathing in the sea.  And she was completely naked, save for the flimsiest little scrap of fabric on her bottom half.  When it comes to the human body, Thailand is a rather conservative place.  Thais aren’t even big on public displays of affection, so public near-nudity is a definite no-no.  But this woman was western, so perhaps she was unaware of the protocol.

In any event, the woman emerged from the sea like a siren, water cascading from her lithe, soft body as the sunlight glittered on her skin.  Her hair clung sleek and heavy even as she smoothed it back into place, and her bare breasts, round and proud in the warm saline air, moved gently as she walked.

For me, there was so much more to this moment than simply seeing a beautiful naked woman.  The fact that I could see her, but she could not see me.  I felt rude and intrusive, but I did not want to stop looking.  She was such a natural being, at one with her element.  And yet her quite innocent actions had the effect of filling me with the (equally natural) feelings of euphoria, longing and desire.  And then there was the unexpected, illicit thrill of seeing someone so naked and free in a place where nudity was generally considered to be unseemly.

Of course, shortly thereafter, I was joined by an obstinacy of my compatriots who immediately began jostling and competing for a better view.  Even at a distance, there is only so long a woman can ignore a veranda groaning under the weight of half a dozen geezers all trying to look inconspicuous.  She became self-conscious, covered her breasts, and withdrew to the shelter of the rocks.

But the moment in which it was just the two of us has stayed with me for a long time.  And the feeling of that moment ultimately inspired the story “Buoyancy,” published in the book “Sun Strokes”.

KD: Of the five senses, do you think the eyes really have it, as far as sex goes, or do you think one of the other five senses is the dark horse of sensual pleasure?

KoJo: The eyes, most often, are where the attraction begins.  They are where another person enters you for the first time.  But sex is so much more.  And all our glorious, firing, pulsing senses of touch, hearing, smell and taste all serve to turn that visual desire into unrepentant lust!

KD: KoJo will be back Sunday with Part 2 of this interview. I don’t know about you, but I can hardly wait!

Feast for the Eyes and Ears:

If you’d like to hear some of the hot erotica from the Immoral Views anthology read by the authors themselves, including yours truly  here’s your chance! Authors Kay Jaybee, Rebecca Bond, Lexie Bay, and K D Grace will be reading hot, voyeuristic smut from this fabulous anthology, their own, and that of Lucy Felthouse as well. Not to be missed!

Where: Sh! Women’s Erotic Emporium, Portobello Store.

When: Saturday 21 January  6:30 for 7:00 pm start.

For more information: Sh! Portobello

Space is limited, RSVP soon!

 

Erotica: Bathtubs, Bearlesque, and Books!

Prologue (How a simple photo essay evolved into a tome in just a day and a half!)

Breakfast at the Ritz-ette-ish, well you get the idea!

I started what was supposed to be an easy little photo essay on the blurry-eyed morning of Day Three of Erotica with Raymond wandering around in our enormous kitchen making very much-needed coffee. I had planned to blog every day, and my Friday blog had gone out without a hitch and relatively little cursing on my part –

Where all the action is. The Xcite stand.

relatively little, so I was expecting happy trails. Well, there were a few technical hitches along the way, and a bit of name-calling (me to the computer) so you get the end result the day after, much expanded, quickly written, and not at all like I’d intended, but it’s an adventure! And so it was!

Saturday: Erotica, Day Two.

Day two began with a wait for the special tube train that delivers people to the Olympia Convention Centre at

Victoria Blisse, Lucy Felthouse, and yours truly showing off our babies at the Xcite stand

regular intervals. It was great to be stood in the brisk morning chill among the folks clad in PVC and leather, gorgeous burlesquish style costumes, leashes, collars, thigh-high boots! It was a people watcher’s paradise, and one in which the people were actually happy to BE watched.

When we arrived, Raymond and I had a quick wander about amid the dungeon furnishings, fake mammaries, corsets, leather, riding crops and scantily clad women piled in a bathtub. (I’ll get back to them later, because we certainly did get back to them later!)  Then there was the gentleman who kept asking if he could polish my boots…

The fabulous Sarah Berry doing...er... lip service...

After a wander about and a quick visit to the Xcite Stand, we were off to the first Xcite event of the day, the Reading Slam, MC’ed by the fabulous Liz Coldwell. Besides yours truly, readers included Victoria Blisse, Lucy Felthouse, Kay Jaybee, blogger, Georgia McCrae and for the first time ever, in front of a live audience, Lexie Bay, who acquitted herself very well, indeed! Each of the readings lasted only five minutes, but that made for an hour of sizzling heat. I think it was probably a very good thing that the

Reading a slopy, naughty breakfast with Tino

room was cold when we arrived. And the chairs must have been really uncomfortable because there was a lot of shifting around in them as the readings progressed. I certainly found the room seemed hotter and hotter as the hour progressed.

There were lots of photo ops, and we advantage! Of course there had to be the traditional photo in front of the Erotica Wall. I am sure that will become a tradition. Kay Jaybee and I had our picture taken a year ago standing there together at our first ever Erotica, and now we were back. What a difference a year makes! Now our circle of fab writing friends had expanded, so we took our photo op in front of the wall, Lucy Felthouse, Lexie Bay, Rebecca Bond, Kay Jaybee and me. There are lots of others we wish could have joined us there. But next year’s coming!

Up against the Wall. Lucy Felthouse, Lexie Bay, Rebecca Bond, Victoria Blisse, K D Grace, Kay Jaybee

We managed a quick lunch in the food court, With the Blisses, the Bays, Lucy Felthouse and her lovely Ian, Kay Jaybee and the lovely Rebecca Bond. I’m not sure what I ate. I was too busy watching. PVC was in abundance as were well displayed breasts, males in very tiny underwear only, people on leashes and even a few people in diapers. Oh yes, Erotica is a people watching paradise. It’s nice to be able to blatantly stare and have people only look at you and smile — sometimes politely, sometimes wolfishly. But all in good fun.

Kay Jaybee and me

Surrounded by smutters, as I was, I could almost hear the wheels of creativity turning in their lovely heads, as they were in my own. I have no doubt there will be stories.

After a nibble and a good look-see, we headed off to the panel, chaired by Jane Wenham-Jones. The panel included Kay Jaybee, Lucy Felthouse, Victoria Bliss and Kitti Bernetti, all Xcite writers extraordinaire. Jane asked fantastic questions about what it’s like to be an erotic author, and there was good participation from the audience as well – many of whom followed us over to the Xcite stand afterward where lots of books were sold and signed by the authors.

By seven, the crowd was beginning to dissipate from

On the Xcite stand busy selling books

around the stand, and it came to the part I hate most, saying good-bye to all of my smutter friends who I only get to see on occasions like Erotica. I adore Facebook, Twitter and email mostly because it keeps me in touch with these fabulous, talented ladies and their wonderfully supportive other halfs (halves??).

Me at the Wall! When all the good-byes were said and the Xcite stand was shut up for the night, Hazel Cushion, Xcite’s fearless leader, invited Raymond and me to join her, the adorable Matt Peterson, who does internet marketing for Xcite, Peter Newsom, Accent Press’s amazing sales director and his lovely wife, Sheilah and the fabulous Jane Wenham-Jones for dinner. It didn’t seem at all strange sitting in Pizza Express putting away masses of wine, pizza and nibbles, talking about sex, erotica and writing erotica and… well sex… when the people at the neighbouring tables were dressed in cat suits, devil tails and horns and crotch-high boots. Fabulously interesting company we keep! The folks at our table might have all looked rather ordinary, but that just goes to show looks can be deceiving.

Afterwards, back in our tiny mansion, we did manage to get pictures downloaded before total collapse into sleep-deprived oblivion.

Sunday: Erotica, Day 3

Madame Grumpy Bear got a whole lot happier after long-suffering hubby brought her a second cup of coffee. Techno-problems

Couldn't resist the tail shot. No! NOT an Xcite author!

brought on by lack of sleep a sudden, but not unusual outbreak of techno-duncism meant that my grandiose plans of a blog post every day of Erotica wasn’t going to happen. A little pout, a hot shower, a bit of slap (that’s slang for make-up… not spanking…) and the scary beast became tame enough to take out into public. Raymond is good with scary beasts.

The panel. Liz Coldwell, Maxim Jakubowski, Jane Wenham-Jones, Toni Sands, K D Grace

The day started out a little quieter. No doubt everyone was having a Sunday lie-in before donning the nosebleed stilettos and corsets and heading on over to Erotica. It gave Raymond and me a chance to look around before the panel started. We caught a performance by the Dream Boys in the gallery, and browsed through some of the fabulous erotic art, which was also displayed in the gallery.

Then it was time for the panel. Today was my day. I was on the panel with Liz Coldwell, Toni Sands and Maxim Jakubowski. Again, the vivacious Jane Wenham-Jones chaired the panel, and there was a lively

The Dream Boys play with fire

discussion, albeit a smaller audience than the day before, about the quality of internet erotica as opposed to print erotica, what made good erotica and what inspired us to write. Afterwards we all went back at the stand to sign books and answer questions.

Looking down from the Gallery

There were more readings in the afternoon, and when we were finished it was back to the stand for more signings and chats with customers. This was prime time. The books were practically flying out of the spinners. It was exciting to sign books and even on the odd occasion, have the person buying Holly or Pets – sometime both, want a photo op with the author. Good for the ego? You betcha!

When there was a bit of a lull in the book selling action, we slipped across to the main stage to watch Dance Seduction, and all I can say is wow! Sex on the dance floor. Exquisitely beautiful and hotter than hot, especially the fabulous, heart-stopping m/m dance next to the finale. It was not only hot, sexy and gorgeous, but deeply moving as well.

And there were other fabulous stars out and about too. I think one of the highlights of my evening was when

Kittens prrrrrfrrrr 'The Pet Shop'

Delores Deluxe stopped by the stand, saw Pets on the spinner and said to Dave, the Cub (more about the fabulous Dave in a bit) who was with her, ‘Oh I know her.’ Raymond happened to overhear and grabbed me. OMG! Delores Deluxe, burlesque goddess extraordinaire remembered mio! She and Dave invited us the LGBT stage in the gallery – the first year for an LGBT stage at Erotica, actually, but it definitely won’t be the last – for the performance, in which we get to see Dave’s arse. Well, I’m not one to turn down a chance to look at a great arse, am I? It was the last performance of the evening on the LGBT stage, and we were not about to miss it.

Dave, the Cub, in the chair that doesn't have Raymond in it;)

We had a bit of time before the performance, so we decided to go back and check out the hot chicks romping in the bathtub that I’d mentioned earlier. We’d only just made the connection that these lovelies and the whole exquisite set-up were a part of The House of Burlesque (we’re a little slow at times) I’m absolutely sure the highlight of Raymond’s evening was meeting the burlesque beauties, who very kindly did the honours of allowing us to photograph them reading ‘The Pet Shop,’ in and around their lovely claw foot bathtub. It was… well, best you just check out the piccies!

If the highlight of Raymond’s evening was photographing the lovelies from the House of Burlesque, the highlight of mine had to be when mid-song and dance, the very well-built, very delicious, scantily clad Dave the Cub came and sat right down on Raymond’s lap while belting it out. Sadly it all happened way too fast for me to get a photo, but it definitely is permanently stamped in my memory. The look on Raymond’s face — priceless! The show on the LGBT stage was one of the most fun parts of the weekend for us. The amazing combo of burlesque, bearlesque, and bawdy, yummy performances by Fancy Chance and Tranny Shack was high energy, outrageous and just flat out fun, all MCed by the fabulous Tempest Rose. We definitely returned to the Xcite stand with smiles on our faces.

By that time most of the people had gone; things were winding down. We said our good-byes to the Xcite folks, happy to see

Blatant self-promotion? You betcha! (with the help of the lovelies from The House of Burlesque)

very few copies of Holly or Pets remaining behind. Hazel assured us that she had already booked the spot for next year and planning and scheming was in the works. Then we caught the tube back to Waterloo and the train on home.

It was only when I got home, as is appropriate, that I got the cherry on the delicious Erotica cake, and it was in the form of this fabulous interview of Hazel by the folks at Erotica.The muchly appreciated shout-out for me starts at about 3:45.  My feet haven’t touched the ground since.

I feel like I’ve come away from this weekend having reconnected with old friends and celebrating with them their successes, while sharing and scheming our future projects and sharing what erotica is to us and what writing the story is to us. I feel that I’ve also come away from this weekend having made new friends and new connections, which is always an expansive, heady experience. As I think back to last year when Kay Jaybee and I spent a few happy hours at Erotica on a Saturday afternoon, I have to say it again. What a difference a year makes!

My Pets, misbehavin in very delicious company! (Thank you, House of Burlesque lovelies)

 

Susana Mayer Talks About the Fabulous Erotic Literary Salon

I had the privilege of reading for Susana Mayer’s Erotic Literary Salon on tour while I was in Las Vegas for Erotic Authors Association Conference. The experience was one of the highlights of the conference for me, and ever since, I’ve been dying to know more about the Salon and about the woman who made it happen. And now is my chance. I feel very honoured to have Susana Mayer as my guest on A Hopeful Romantic. Welcome, Susana!

KD: What would you most like people to know about Susana Mayer?

Susana: I have recently reinvented myself as a sexologist, receiving my MA in Public Health 2005, and Ph.D. in Human Sexuality 2009. I am not a writer of erotica, except for the occasional titillating emails I send to my beloved.

Presently, I am working on several projects; a unique anthology, ebook form (more info. can be found at the Salon’s website) and a non-fiction self-help ebook to better understand the complexity of libido, sex drive and sexual desire. Bibliotherapy is one of my passions.

K D: Tell us about the Erotic Literary Salon. How did it come about, and how has it evolved since its beginnings.

Susana: Creating the Erotic Literary Salon was a culmination of a lifetime love of erotica coupled with my dissertation investigations (searching for a catalyst for women’s desire to have sex). Conclusions drawn from the research and the sexual climate in the US led me to believe the time was right to mainstream erotica in Philadelphia.

The social messages women have been receiving did not allow “good girls” to admit to enjoying fantasies they consider pornographic. Based on media marketing, our society allows men the liberty of enjoying hard core material, whereas women are relegated to fantasies spurred on by soft core erotica.

Pornography usually conjures up negative judgements, and erotica is a term that is most often equated with sexual material for women. I must admit when I initially created the Salon, it was geared towards women, and I too used the term erotica so as not to offend my prospective attendees. The terms Literary and Salon were marketing tools to extend legitimacy to the event, since I realized porn or pornography would immediately offend people who equated this term with degradation.

Unfortunately, but ultimately most fortunately, the public space where the Salon was to be held could not discriminate against men. From the very onset the Salon attendance has been approximately equal among the sexes. Ages range from twenty-one (liquor law restrict minors from attending) to mid-nineties. Couples, singles, poly — all sexual orientations and an ethnic mix all attend the Salon.

This event has gone through several transitions since its inception. Initially the format followed most closely the concept of a true French Salon. Works were shared, discussed, and critiqued. It has now developed into performance, where the attendees expect to be entertained by the readings. Occasionally I have featured performers who incorporate music, song, or movement with their erotic presentation.

As the host of this event I try to keep the evening flexible, open to the possibilities of discussions, critiques and Q & A. The featured presenters, number of readers and attendee’s responses all impact how the evening will proceed.

It still surprises me when I hear attendees express their gratitude for having a venue to share their sensexual* writings sans censorship. Remarks like; “Susana is doing a very brave thing….It’s hard to overstate what a remarkable event you produce each month….Philly needs something like this,” remind me there are no other events of this kind presently in this area and few in the entire country.

People have confided in me how writing and sharing their words have helped them deal with a myriad of issues. Often this is the only occasion they have to hear how others express their sexuality. Exposure to these writings, especially journals and first person works, have given them the opportunity to reflect on their own sexuality. It can be of great comfort to know that there is such a variety of styles to creating sexual pleasure. For those who are troubled by sexual pleasure, the sharing of words may assuage their guilt.

The Salon has also given victims of sexual abuse an outlet to share their shame. By giving voice to their distress, in some instances the mere act of sharing has relieved them of the burden of shame. For others the control of the pen has allowed individuals to rewrite their sexual history, enabling them to cope more positively with their traumas.

Some people attend the Salon just to enjoy a night out with their friends, or it can be an unusual place to take their date. For an increasing core group of regulars, it is a community of like-minded people who enjoy sensexuala*.

The Salon is many things to many people, but one thing is a constant – each Salon is unique. I never know how the evening will progress, since each month the readings and featured presenters vary. Similar to my daily posts at the Salon’s website, I lend my voice to this event by offering news items with my sex positive spin. Individuals are given the opportunity to view a sexual newsworthy item from a different perspective. As a muse for this event I feel these items not only educate but can be used as research material for their writings.

The Salon also continues via the web between gatherings. Those unable to attend because of distance constraints are able to share their works on the site, while enjoying some of the readings from the Salon. A professor of English in India expressed his gratitude for having a community that would enjoy his writings and comment on them.

I believe the mainstreaming of sensexuala in Philadelphia is slowly becoming a reality. The first year the Salon averaged between 20-30 people. These numbers have climbed to 60-80 attendees any given month.

K D: The Salon sounds like such a wonderful community to be a part of, and I think it’s fabulous that there is a website where those outside of Philadelphia can connect up with that community. You must have so many amazing memories of the Salon, Susana, can you tell us, what was your most memorable experience of the Salon?

Susana: The Salon’s nonagenarian, Frances (she’s my Chosen Mom), read the best seller, “Go the FOK to Sleep.” Can you envision a 94 year old, white haired, 4’6” slim built, beyond wrinkled woman, armed with elocution lessons from grade school (sans microphone) reciting this adult story disguised as a children’s book to Salon attendees? She brought down the house. I have extended an offer to the author to attend in May to hear her once again read this piece. I hope to get permission to video tape and post it on youtube and my website. Can’t imagine him declining.

K D: Wow! I would have loved to be there for THAT reading! It must have been amazing. Susana, how do you see the future of the Erotic Literary Salon? What plans do you have for it?

Susana: I am considering adding several larger events, with the Salon as the foundation while including visual arts, music, dance for a spectacular evening of sensexuala. I’m also in the process of creating a Salon ebook press, not only to publish the Salon’s anthology, but also works of others. The Erotic Literary Salon is becoming an established brand, and I want to spread the word of sensexual writings as a tool for bibliotherapy.

*sensexuala/sensexual. A combination of (sensual & sexual) that does not carry the same judgmental values as those attributed to erotica and pornography. You get to enjoy the value of the piece, eliminating the need to discuss the sub-genre classifications.

K D: Thank you, Susana, for sharing with us. It’s been such a pleasure to interview you, and you’ve raised so many other wonderful questions that I’d love to pursue further that I hope you’ll come back again soon.

 

The Book Launch Extravaganza!

I’ve been anticipating the big launch of The Pet Shop forever now, and when Maxim Jakubowski and I decided to share the launch party — with him launching his exciting new novel, Ekaterina and the Night, it was a great opportunity for me to work with the King of the Erotic Thriller. We couldn’t be more different in our writing styles, and that made for intriguing possibilities.

I was actually feeling a little smug when launch day dawned bright and sunny. When I launched The Initiation of Ms Holly this time last year, I was a frightened, uncertain newbie. The Pet Shop was book number two. I was an old hand at this launch business now. I was ready for it!

There’s a price to pay for smugness. There was a broken printer, there were trains running late, there was Lucy Felthouse and the fabulous Ian stuck in traffic on the M1, there were windows shattering in the train Kay Jaybee was on, and there were problems with getting enough books for the launch.

Okay, most people think I’m the Queen of Calm (rolling on the floor laughing uncontrollably) but by the time we got to Sh! the calm had cracked, and poor Raymond, the Birthday Boy, was having to deal with The Wicked Witch of the West.

But Sh! is an oasis of love and calm if ever there was one. There were hugs all around, a nice cup of coffee, and Renee’s peaceful influence assuring me that all would be well. And I totally trust Renee!

Over at the Bluu Bar next door, where the pre-party was due to kick off, Mel Jones was already anticipating the thirsty convergence with a bottle of wine, several glasses and more reassuring hugs. While Maxim and I briefly rehearsed the reading from the prologue of The Pet Shop that we were doing together, Kay Jaybee showed up with Rebecca Bond, and more reassurance that all would be well.

Back over at Sh!, Sh! Sweeties extraordinaire, Jo Wierzbicka and Sarah Berry greeted us with hugs and congratulations, and I felt like I’d come home. The pink fizz was already flowing and the guests milled about amid riding crops and collars and vibes and corsetry. Lexie Bay and her lovely husband, Doug, arrived. In the Fab Footwear Parade, Lexie was the clear winner with ‘Sh! pink’ heels sporting a whole garden of tiny leather flowers. The competition was stiff with Jo’s ‘there’s no place like home’ ruby slippers. Not to be completely left out, I wore the leopard print Pet shoes, which bit my feet rather sharply when I moved just right. I suppose that was appropriate under the circumstances.

I was elated to finally meet Marilyn Jaye Lewis, who was here visiting from the States and will be doing a reading at the Last Tuesday Society on Friday. And it was great to have Rubyyy Jones in attendance, looking rather Pet-like herself in black and leopard print.

The party started with Maxim and me doing a joint reading of the prologue of The Pet Shop, as ‘The Boss’ and his secretary, Anne O’Kelly argue about the appropriate gift to give employee, Stella James, for a job well done. It was the perfect lead-in to my introduction of Tino, the Pet, who is possibly my favourite of all the characters I’ve ever created.

Before Maxim read, we had one of three giveaways that were spread throughout the evening. Maxim gave away two copies of the many fabulous anthologies he has edited, and I gave away two Holly/Pets coffee mugs. But the biggie, and much coveted grand prize, courtesy of Xcite Books, was a great gift package complete with gift vouchers from Sh!

Then it was time for the Queen of Raunchy Poetry, Mel Jones, to titillate us all with extraordinary filthy verse. And she did NOT disappoint. Later Mel’s partner in poetry crime, Alan Wolfson also read some steamy kissing poetry. (Alan was also in the running for the Fab Footwear Award with his truly exquisite amethyst shoes) These two lovelies co-host the Kiss The Sky poetry event every other Wednesday at the Kiss The Sky Bar in Hampstead. I have a special place in my heart for KTS because I lost my ‘appreciation for performance poetry’ virginity there. I could listen and watch for hours! Here all this time I thought I was a Philistine.

After poetry, Maxim took the stage (or in this case the pink setae) and read the gripping ending of his novel, Ekaterina and the Night. I have to admit, I would have thought giving away the ending would be a bad idea, but in this case, Maxim knew exactly what he was doing (no surprise there). This eerie, sexy, moving ending definitely made me want to read the rest of the book and find out how Maxim GOT us to such an exquisite finale.

Having finally made it through the traffic, Lucy and Ian arrived at Sh! with scrummy cupcakes in tow — none of which survived the resulting feeding frenzy. Once they had arrived, it felt like the party could begin. As the evening continued, there were questions and answers, book signings, snatches of fantastic conversation with lots of people I wish I’d had a lot more time with. There was more poetry, there were more readings and there was lots of milling around upstairs with the fabulous vibes, corsetry and books. I noticed more than a few people leaving with large pink bags of Sh! yumminess.

I thought by my second launch I’d be able to manage my time a little better, but not so. I’d had visions of photo ops with all my favourite people and quiet conversations happening in front of the collar and cuff display. What was I thinking? My lovely husband, Raymond celebrated his birthday by taking pictures and never missing an opportunity to promote me. Bless him! But what I really needed was to be TWO of me.  That way, one of me could just take in the whole experience as an observer, taking note of the things I missed because I was signing books or being so excited to see someone I hadn’t seen for a while or answering questions. I would love to have taken in the nuances, experienced the whole wild amazing evening a little less fleetingly and held it all a little more clearly in my overwhelmed memory. Because it was wonderful! My book, my baby is out there for all the world to see! Maybe I’m not as much of an old hand at this as I thought, because Wow! Okay. Just wow!

Afterward there was a very late dinner, with nine of us squeezed together in the basement of Pizza Express reliving the events of the evening and catching up with old friends. Then it was back onto the streets amid the clubbers and smokers milling outside and the street venders selling sausages and grilled onions to those with the late-night munchies. We said our good-byes near Old Street Station to friends who had to catch the tube or bus or a taxi. Kay Jaybee, Rebecca Bond, Raymond and I had hotel rooms for the night, so it was back to the all-night hotel bar for a night cap amid a raucous hen party, all bedecked  in sparkly headbands and surly looking blokes who had clearly taken advantage of the bar’s five for £10 beer special. Then, at last, it was off to bed.

I had the pleasure of having breakfast at the Breakfast Club near Hoxton Square with Kay Jaybee and Rebecca Bond the next morning. We talked writing and more writing over eggs and bacon, pancakes and hash browns and fresh squeezed orange juice. And lots of coffee! Amid the clatter of breakfast dishes and the buzz of lazy Saturday morning conversation all around us, we talked of our plans and schemed our future take-over of the world. It was the perfect way to top off a great launch.

I can’t think of the launch without feeling very grateful for all the support and good will that I felt. Thanks to Maxim Jakubowski for being a great ‘partner in crime.’ Thanks to all the people who wished me well via Facebook, Twitter, email and snail mail. Thanks to everyone who came to the launch party, and especially to those who braved traffic, exploding train windows and other hazards of long journeys to get there. Thanks to Mel Jones and Alan Wolfson for sharing their deliciously raunchy poetry. Thanks to Xcite Books for furnishing the food, drinks and give away. And a very special thanks, once again to the incomparable Sh! Ladiez! There aren’t enough hugs and kisses to express my gratitude to you sweeties!

Dozing on the train, in the unseasonably warm sunlight on the way home, I relived the highlights of the fantastic Book Launch Extravaganza once again and tried to remember more of the bright, bubbly details that rushed by so quickly. I imagine I’ll be sifting through all that lovely excitement in my head for days to come. A book launch at Sh! is most definitely the gift that keeps on giving.

What Happens in Vegas Part 1

I’m not a Vegas sort of person. I went for the Erotic Authors Association Conference, not for the gambling, not for the bright lights. I wasn’t there to be impressed. And yet…

We flew over the Sierra Nevada Mountains just before we landed in Las Vegas.  We all crane our necks for a look at impossibly jagged peaks already covered with snow, even as we were about to land in 97 degree temperatures. But on the ground, it was desert heat and more shades of brown and tan and olive than I would have thought possible, all set off in stunning relief against a baby blue sky puffed with clouds that were clearly only there for looks rather than business. Very appropriate for Vegas.

The woman behind me on the shuttle talked loudly on her cell phone in a Midwestern accent to whoever was taking care of her geriatric dog back home. When the conversation finally ended with her satisfied that the pooch was in good hands, we all turned our attention to the shuttle driver, a man who was a driving history book of Las Vegas. While he delivered us to our respective hotels, he regaled us with stories of Bugsy Segal and the mob history of Las Vegas. The Flamingo is the original resort hotel that Bugsy Segal built in the middle of the desert.

My room was on the 14th floor, with views of the mountains in between the towers of Bally’s and Paris Las Vegas. Once I got settled, I explored the hotel grounds, lingering in the gardens to see the habitat for flamingos, sacred ibis, and black swans. I was planning to meet Sharazade for dinner, but I’d gotten a message from her saying she’s coming in on a later flight, so I decided to check out The Strip on my own.

Las Vegas is in your face, like an arid version of New Orleans on steroids and all tarted up with neon and fountains. It’s like Disneyland for adults, Sharazade observed, when we finally connect the next day. Just as it was getting dark I wandered about with my mouth open and my eyes bugging because there was so much to see. I’ve been to Paris, so Paris Las Vegas shouldn’t impress me, but when it rises up all truncated and neon in the middle of the desert it does. I realized as I walked amid the tourists who are as bug-eyed as I am that though I’m hearing lots of different languages, a lot of the people who are here will never get any closer to Paris or Venice or the Forum in Rome than Las Vegas, and the tarted-up versions can’t fail to impress.

As I stopped to watch the volcano erupt in front of Treasure Island, along with the rest of the enthralled crowd, I realize that as much as I’d like to stick my nose in the air and be unimpressed, the spirit of the place is contagious, and it would be really hard to walk among the holiday makers and the lovers there to elope and the neon and the noise and the resorts that are several city blocks in size and not get caught up in the atmosphere.

I ended up shivering in an overly air conditioned food court having Mexican food, my first since arriving in the US. I ate and people-watched. The city was awash in spandex and suicide stilettos, and I find that, in spite of myself, I was loving every minute of it.

Outside again, I was happy to leave the air conditioning and get warm. It was a dry delicious 87 degrees, and that alone, after leaving the rainy damp of south England, was enough to make me feel festive. I walked along stopping here and there to watch people and take in the giddy gaudiness of it all. In some places Hispanic men and women lined the streets handing out cards for peep shows and escort services, and I squirmed at the contrast of people working a hard, uncomfortable job in order to put food on the table while they watch a party going on all around them in which they never get to participate.

I watched the incredible dancing fountains in front of the Bologgio amid the crowd and press of others doing the same, and I wandered along the street where tourists were having their pictures taken with Elvis impersonators and show girls decked out in brightly coloured feathers. A man who had too much to drink was propositioning every woman who walked by. I found myself lost and turned around in the maze of stylized bridges that crisscross the heavily trafficked street that runs through the strip. The bridges cross into resorts and come down alongside towers of glass and flashing lights opening onto the streets like gaping mouths exhaling the overly air conditioned breath of the casinos into the warm the night.

 I was caught up and carried along on a wave of sensory overload that smelled of restaurants and cigarette smoke and perfume and sweaty bodies and excitement; and looked like a city all dressed up for a costume ball. I let it all settle around me and flow through me until the heat and the noise and the jet lag of too many time zones passed through too quickly began to take a toll. Sharazade still hadn’t arrived, and I was fading fast. I made my way back to the Flamingo through the sparkle and the kaching of the slots to the elevator banks. I managed to make it back to the room and whip of an email to Sharazade that I’d see her in the morning. Then I slept.

I woke in the night and looked out at the dazzle of the lights from the 14th floor and I drift back to sleep with after images of the rich blue lights of the towers of the Cosmopolitan fading behind my eyelids. The next time I woke up, the mountains between the towers of the casinos were just blushing pink, and I was struck by the contrast of the rugged wilderness, jagged and overwhelming held at bay by towers of glass and steel and lights. Even Las Vegas seems small and demure next to such vastness.

As I looked over the schedule for the first day of the Erotic Authors Association conference, the butterflies woke up in my stomach. When I thought about the day ahead, the introvert in my cowered for a second, wanting to run away to the mountains beyond. But this would be the day I got to be on my first panel ever, and this would be the day I got to read from Holly in front of a new audience, and this would be the day I got to meet the people who I already knew would be my friends, the fabulous smutters on the US side of the pond. It would be good. I knew it would.

Stay tuned for the next installment of What Happens in Vegas.