Tag Archives: Fanny Press

Life After Death with Ellen March

thingsthatgohump300x200First my thanks to lovely KD for the invite to celebrate her wonderful Lakeland Witches, you’re a truly amazing lady. And spooky good wishes for your launch, Hump in the Night is absolutely fantastic.

Grace wasn’t fussy, but she did insist on a pulse in a man says Ellen March


I have always had a keen interest in the supernatural and firmly believe in life after death. The fact that the spirit goes on, it’s continuous and death is the beginning of a long journey completing the circle of life. And one day soon, we’ll all understand the concept of death and the crossing over.

It was due to an experience I had in my bedroom that an idea came to me. I’d taken a photograph and was shocked at what it revealed. How could a clear day show a hazy picture with a startling flash of light illuminating from the wall along with a smattering of orbs? Since moving into our old cottage I’d experienced loud sighs and the weight of a person sitting on the bed. Something was happening. A lot of strange things went on, still do, the touches I feel on my arm. Gentle strokes finger light, I wake up and search, scared at first it’s a spider, but relieved to know that somewhere in my room I have a tentative lover who’s making himself known. And so Ghost was born.

I decided to write A Ghost of an Affair because of my love of romance and obviously the afterlife. What would a person feel like to discover they were no longer mortal, are there a set of rules that should be followed? And then I wondered would a ghost still have sexual urges, and how would he react if he discovered himself drawn to a mortal. Find out in the excerpt below.

A Ghost of an Affair will be available after October 1st, in eBook and 5×8 trade paperback editions on BN.com, the European Amazons and Amazon Japan. Bookstores can order through Ingram, Baker & Taylor or by contacting info@fannypress.com.

Amazon US | Amazon UK



Grace McGillis is over the moon to have won the love, or at least the favour, of Dr. Sage Gerret, the resident heartthrob at the hospital where she is a receptionist. Sage hopes to “improve” her: to inspire her to eat and drink less and educate herself about fine art and music. Everyone sees Sage as a great catch. Why else would Grace put up with his barbs about her appearance and his uninspired lovemaking?

Enter Breece, an adoring alpha male who is out-of-this-world in bed. That is not surprising, for he is, after all, a ghost. Though Sage may not be anyone’s dream date, he is alive. Grace is falling in love with Breece, but is love enough? Even if fate allows her ghost lover to continue his delightful haunting, how will this couple find love everlasting?



Breece strolled in, glad she’d left the door open. He wasn’t sure about going through obstacles yet but assumed he could. Hell, he still couldn’t wrap his head around being dead.

Then he stopped.

Breece stared at the woman before him, who was busy examining herself in the mirror, stark naked. He felt his cock harden, relieved that the weird stranger hadn’t lied about that. Yet the fact that she aroused him even though she was so different from what he usually liked in his women bothered him.

Another thought soon followed: how did he know that? Finally he went with his instincts. He tried to work out what it was about her, and decided it had to be the naturalness—nothing fake, no silicone tits, no hair extensions, and no plastic surgery. She stood before him as nature intended.

It sent a shiver of excitement over him. It also left him with a question: how he knew so much about fake women?

He watched her weave to the wardrobe. She bent over, and he couldn’t resist crossing to her. His hand caressed her backside. Christ, it was a peach of a bum, one he’d like to bite.

Grace rummaged in the box, searching for her vibrator. A whisper of a tickle touched the cheek of her ass, and she scratched at it. At last gripping her toy, she rose and turned to the bed. Falling backwards, she flicked it on, but then realized she’d left the light blazing. But Grace couldn’t move. She lay there in a drunken haze—the need to come her only focus.

Hell, she couldn’t live with nothing but a weekly sex session!

Breece raised a brow and watched her open her legs for the large vibrator. A low groan rumbled as she slid it in. He rubbed his hand over his cock, which was hard and hungry. He wasn’t sure how many years he’d been dead, but he was as horny as fuck.

Grace thrust the vibrator in deep, but she needed more, a lot more, and arched into it deeper still. Even drunk she knew she wasn’t going to have an orgasmic explosion. A small circle of heat flared and fluttered in her belly, and she gave a little whimper. It wasn’t happening. She flung the gadget onto the floor in irritation.

Rolling onto her stomach, she closed her eyes and passed out. One hand was flung to the side and dangled off the bed; her legs were spread-eagled.

Breece swallowed, hard. He wanted to fuck her. But hell, she was unconscious. He glanced down at his dick, which ridged his joggers and strained hard beneath the material. His decision made, he tugged his clothes off and carefully slid in beside her.

Unsure what to expect, Breece worried that he’d dissolve into her. Also, would he be able to feel her skin? Relief washed over him; it was exactly as he’d remembered. He couldn’t think of anyone he’d actually had sex with, but sensed what he liked and let his libido be driven by instinct.

And she wouldn’t remember a thing. At least for now. In time she would, if she’d really called him, was the cause of him being here. The least she could do was to let him use her body.

And fuck her whenever he wanted.

He dropped a kiss to her shoulder, and her skin shivered beneath his lips. The reaction was slight, but he felt it. He slipped his cock between her legs, rubbing it across her fanny, and her ass gave a small push back. A faint groan fluttered from her open mouth.

Her lips whispered his name. It gusted out on a small breath of air: ‘Breeeeece ….’ That was enough to seal her fate.

She’d called him forth, and she wanted him.

Slowly he pushed home, sunk his cock into her and filled her till he was balls deep. He didn’t care if she was almost comatose. What he wanted was release.


Ellen March lives on top of a mountain in Wales, which is ideal in the summer but not so much in the winter months or when it rains. She has three grown children, one suicidal cat—it really does have nine lives—and three Alaskan Malamutes. One of her hobbies is working them.

Her first love, however, is reading and creating worlds with wicked characters. Ellen’s works have been published by Ravenous Romance – Escorting Sydney, Shadow Play & One Night in Heaven, whilst Fanny Press have released Promises, His Girl Friday and recently A Ghost of an Affair with several more to follow in 2015. She also writes for Passion in Print under her fantasy pseudonym H D March, which is of course still erotic romance. The first of her Wolfsong Trilogy, Wolfsong Lullaby released in June, following that A Song of a Dragon, with some more sexy vampires Rune & Wolfe coming soon. Literally.

You can discover more about Ellen or HD March on the links below.

https://twitter.com/Ms_ellen_march twitter page

https://www.facebook.com/ellenmarchauthor facebook

http://ellenmarch.jimdo.com/  website



a Rafflecopter giveaway

I Stayed In A Haunted Bed And Breakfast… And Lived! by Elizabeth Black (@ElizabethABlack)

thingsthatgohump300x200My first novel, An Unexpected Guest, was inspired by Vita Sackville-West’s short story An Unborn Visitant, about a stick-in-the-mud woman in the early 19th century visited by the spirit of someone important to her who changes her life. I took that story to heart, ran with it, and An Unexpected Guest was born. This book takes place in the fictitious town of Norwich, Massachusetts, which is on the northeast coast between Rockport and Ipswich. I imagine it sitting next to Innsmouth, the fictitious town H. P. Lovecraft created for his horror story A Shadow Over Innsmouth. No, there are no fish people in Norwich. 🙂


An Unexpected GuestHere’s a blurb from the book:

Annie’s life is in crisis, and it’s time for her to change things. She is determined to be controlled no longer by her arrogant boyfriend and overbearing mother: for the first time in her life, she is going to follow her dreams and do something she truly wants for herself. Her dreams lead her to a picturesque Bed and Breakfast by the ocean that is rumored to be haunted. As she throws fear to the wind and opens up to life’s new possibilities she meets Jason, whose long blonde hair and cheeky attitude she cannot resist.


The bed and breakfast is called the Abigail Blackburn House, and I based it on a haunted bed and breakfast on Maryland’s Eastern Shore. This b&b dates back to the Revolutionary War, and it sits on a river. I had heard about it several years earlier, and after much planning finally stayed there when I was in town for a theater stage crew convention. The story behind the haunting is as follows: British soldiers came up the river and proceeded to set the small town on fire, destroying most of it. Soldiers threw torches on the porch of this b&b, which was originally a brothel. The proprietress swept the torches off the porch with her broom. She made a deal with the soldiers. She would house them, feed them, and allow them to use her services as long as they didn’t burn the place down. They agreed, and this b&b was allowed to stand whilst homes around it burned to the ground.  The haunting involves the ghost of the proprietress wandering the halls in the dead of night, checking on her clientele and the women to make sure everyone was comfortable. There have been other sightings as well. The b&b itself is absolutely beautiful, decorated in Victorian splendor. It includes a lovely bar and discounted dinners every Friday night. The rooms are beautiful, spacious, and very homey in that Victorian style I liked very much.

The first time I stayed it was off-season in mid-winter. I was in a room overlooking the river. What a view! I enjoyed a delicious meal and the company of a man I met in the bar. He came to the b&b several times per month to enjoy dinner when in town on business. No, I did not take him to bed, although he was very handsome. We ate dinner together. That night I slept well until about 3 am when I heard a party going on in the room next to me. There was a lot of noise. I managed to go back to sleep. At about 4:30 am I heard heavy footsteps walking up and down the hallway. I immediately thought of the ghost of the proprietress stalking the halls checking on everyone and went back to sleep. I wondered why she wore combat boots, since the footsteps were very loud and heavy. I felt very safe, secure, and comfortable. Not the least bit scared.

The next day, when I went down for breakfast, I told the clerk about the party and the footsteps. She told me I couldn’t have heard anything because I had been alone in the building all night. Yeeeahhh!!!!! The party! The footsteps! None of it could have happened!!!

Of course, I had to return. 🙂

The second time I stayed I was with my husband. While we slept, someone turned on the overhead light in the middle of the night. I was a very light sleeper and I snapped awake the moment the light turned on. He snored away next to me. I was far too tired to get up and turn off the light, so I went back to sleep. When I woke up shortly before dawn, the light was out. I asked my husband later about the light and he said he had turned it off before going to bed. He didn’t get up during the night at all.

So who turned on the light? And who later turned it off?

I heard those footsteps in the hallway again, and felt as safe as I did the first time.  No party this time, though. At least this time there were other guests in the place. I wasn’t alone in the building again.

My experiences affected me so much I wrote about them later in An Unexpected Guest.  This book includes information about the flu pandemic of 1918 and how it affected the region. Plus it’s a very romantic and haunting love story. The town of Norwich is based on the Massachusetts coastal town where I live. It has all the homes that date back to the 1800s, the ocean, the cliffs, the beaches, and the rustic romance.  If you love a good and romantic ghost story, you’ll love An Unexpected Guest.



[Intro: Annie and Jason are on the deck of the Abigail Blackburn house overlooking the harbor. He has told her numerous times it’s very important that she buy the house. He’ll do anything to convince her to buy, but she doesn’t know the real reason he needs her to buy the place. Is Jason a ghost or is he flesh and blood?]

“Why is it so important to you that I buy this house?”

“I already told you. I don’t want to lose you. You seem to have your heart set on owning this house, but you have your doubts. I hope I can help to talk you into it.”

“If it’s any consolation to you, I’m leaning towards buying it.”  A boom sounded from outside, followed by a loud whistle. Curious, Annie walked to the picture window, with Jason following on her heels.

A burst of fireworks covered the sky with red and yellow sunbursts. Another firework sailed into the air, and burst into a blue and red flower with trails of yellow that fell to the harbor like tropical fish swimming in the ocean. Annie loved fireworks. A trill of excitement traveled from her stomach and up her spine. Here she was, trapped in a New England snowstorm by the ocean, and a party materialized around her. Nothing like that ever happened in western Massachusetts, where she lived. Norwich was so romantic. It was the perfect location for her to live. Another burst of fireworks criss-crossed the night sky, and Annie felt the boom in her chest. The party was such a fun, festive thing, and she was happy to be a part of it. She felt very at home in the Abigail Blackburn house. It would be easy to live there.

A yellow sunburst exploded a little too close to some trees. It was so loud that Annie jumped.

“They’re going to light the trees on fire!” Annie said. “How did they get fireworks this time of year?”

“I think I know who set them off. Those guys can find fireworks any time of year. Want to go outside and watch?”

Annie held open her kimono. “I’m not exactly dressed, and it looks cold out there.”

Jason walked towards a chair, and removed his coat that he had draped over it. “Put this on. It will keep you very warm. It’s lined with fur.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll be fine. You’ll keep me warm.”

Annie put on Jason’s coat. She buried her face in the fur lining and smelled the sweetness of his Halston cologne and his sweat. It was still warm from when he had worn it last. They walked outside onto the deck. A roman candle soared into the air. Each colorful ball of light illuminated the falling snow.

“This is beautiful. I could imagine myself living here. I don’t want to leave. I do think I could make a go of this place. I badly want to buy it.”

“Then buy it,” Jason stood behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist. She intertwined his fingers with her own. Fireworks fell over the harbor and into the water. The snow fell silently around her. She lifted her head, and held out her tongue. Three snowflakes alighted on her tongue.

“How do you like our snowflakes? We have only the best tasting snowflakes in Norwich.” Jason whispered in her ear.

“I love eating snowflakes. The snow is really coming down. It’s exciting being trapped here for a couple of days. I used to eat snowflakes when I was a kid. There was always lots of snow in western Massachusetts.”

“You get more snow than we get here. Most of the time, snowstorms blow over by the coast, and the clouds dump the snow on Boston or farther west. Cape Cod gets more snow than we do. But not tonight!”

“I love watching the snow fall on the harbor. Look at the way the lights reflect on the water.”

“And just think – you can have that view all the time if you buy this place. Don’t go anywhere,” Jason squeezed her around the waist. “I’ll be right back.” He returned to the dining room.

Annie walked to the edge of the deck and leaned against the railing. She heard laughter coming from a bare spot down the hill on the beach. Five people bundled in heavy coats shoved bottle rockets into the sand, and lit the wicks. They ran away from the fireworks, giggling all the while. The bottle rockets exploded and sailed into the air with a loud whistle. Annie felt a sudden urge to join them. She wanted to be a part of the festivities. When she looked around, she realized that she already was a part of the goings-on. Jason obviously went to pick up something for her. Clarice spotted Annie looking around, and she waved. Annie smiled and waved back. Living in Norwich would be easy. The locals already welcomed her. It was up to her to make them a part of her life.


Buy links for “An Unexpected Guest”

Fanny Press: http://fannypress.com/2009/12/12/an-unexpected-guest/

Amazon Paperback: http://tinyurl.com/yb9ya5t

Amazon Kindle US: http://tinyurl.com/yhbll2h

Amazon Kindle UK: http://amzn.to/1rCWxGn

Web Site Page: http://elizabethablack.blogspot.com/p/unexpected-guest.html


Elizabeth BlackElizabeth Black – Bio

Elizabeth Black writes erotica, erotic romance, speculative fiction, fantasy, and horror. She also enjoys writing retellings of classic fairy tales. Born and bred in Baltimore, she grew up under the influence of Edgar Allan Poe. Her erotic fiction has been published by Xcite Books (U. K.), House Of Erotica (U. K.), Circlet Press, Ravenous Romance, Scarlet Magazine (U. K.), and other publishers. Her horror fiction has appeared in “Kizuna: Fiction For Japan”, “Stupefying Stories”, “Zippered Flesh 2: More Tales Of Body Enhancements Gone Bad”, “Midnight Movie Creature Feature 2”, “Voluted Tales”, and “Mirages: Tales From Authors Of The Macabre” (edited by Trent Zelazny). “Zippered Flesh 2” made the recommended reading list for the 2013 Bram Stoker awards. An accomplished essayist, she was the sex columnist for the pop culture e-zine nuts4chic (also U. K.) until it folded in 2008. Her articles about sex, erotica, and relationships have appeared in Good Vibrations Magazine, Alternet, CarnalNation, the Ms. Magazine Blog, Sexis Magazine, On The Issues, Sexy Mama Magazine, and Circlet blog. She also writes sex toys reviews for several sex toys companies. She has appeared as a speaker at numerous conventions including Balticon, Arisia, NoVaCon, SheVaCon, JohnCon, and two Worldcons.


Where To Find Me On The Web

Elizabeth Black – Blog and Web Site: http://elizabethablack.blogspot.com/

Elizabeth Black – Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/elizabethablack

Elizabeth Black – Twitter: http://twitter.com/ElizabethABlack

Elizabeth Black – Ello: https://ello.co/elizabethblack

Elizabeth Black – Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/author/elizabethblack



a Rafflecopter giveaway

Ellen March Gets Asked THE Question

Ellen MarshWhy is it when you mention you write erotic romance that a certain light flares? It’s as if because you write about sexual tensions and situations you actually experience it on a daily basis.

I wish.

The interest I notice appears to be exclusively from males. Women simply give me that knowing, yeah I fake that as well look.

A few of my stories have some extreme elements about killers and stalkers incorporated in the plot. Yet nothing is mentioned about them.  Not one question about how I delve inside the mind of a deranged madman. Where do I research drowning, broken ribs, bullet wounds? Nothing on that. Nope, instead the usual query arises.

Invariably, where I’ve gained my sexual knowledge from. Is it from personal experience? And mention research to a guy and you’ve got an instant offer of assistance. Not quite one my husband would agree with LOL. But I won’t give you my answer. Wicked I know.

Hell if I tried to do and get up to half of my heroines activities I’d be in traction.

So I would like to know why this genre is expected to be lived. Yet realize I’ll never have the answer. Or if I do, think it’s going to be of a naughty but interesting reply.

Excerpt from Promises:

She’d taken this job for two reasons. One was her love of books, hot erotic romance to be exact, and here she could indulge her craving to the hilt. The second was to escape her nagging mother. Yet even moving hadn’t been enough.

She’d been in Brindley Bay six months and it felt like six years. How could other people lead such varied and exciting lives whilst hers was lived through the pages of a book? Well almost, she thought, taking care moving on up the rungs. An armful of dusty tomes cradled in one arm, her free hand gripped the rail. She wobbled her way precariously to the top and with a studied caution placed the books back into their gaps, evident by the dusty marks left behind.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” warned a deep voice, breaking through the silence and into her thoughts.

“Shit!” she yelled, and turned too fast. With a strangled scream, felt herself falling and landed in a pair of steely arms that held her tight.

“Lucky I was here.” Solomon’s fingers subtly probed her thighs, feeling for her suspenders. They rolled briefly over the slight bumps.

“If you hadn’t snuck up on me I wouldn’t have fallen,” she snapped, realizing he still held her. “You can put me down now.” She couldn’t help noticing how his muscles flexed. The glorious masculine scent rolled over her, twisting lusty thoughts.

He dropped her with infinite slowness to the ground, still keeping an arm around her waist. Pulling her close, he dipped his head and the tip of his tongue tracked a path along the contours of her lips, retracing every route he’d travelled.

Alex relished his taste, fresh and so sweetly intoxicating. She sucked in a breath, then exhaled a soft, ragged wisp of a sigh. Her hand stole up with the fevered intensity of a Christmas shopper. Urgent fingers rubbed the base of his neck in a sexy circling dance of wanton need. Shivers splintered down her spine and she could feel him growing hard. She craved him with a power that was burning out of control.

“Hello,” shouted a disembodied voice. “Alex, where the heck are you?” The words broke the spell.

Solomon’s gaze sparked down at her, his eyes dark with passion. “I’ll see you later. I think we’ve got some unfinished business.” The words swept out in a hush, his voice full of unspoken promises.

Alex couldn’t speak. She struggled to nod her head, trying to calm her body’s traitorous reaction to him. She wished she could remain detached, then realized she could. It was her fanny that was causing the problem, experiencing a dull throbbing ache that wasn’t going away. Her kickers were already damp.

Tania stood by the desk and her eyebrows rose when she saw the tall, dark-haired man. It had to be Solomon. Instantly she patted at her hair, pulled out her compact and, with a brief glance in the mirror, glossed her lips. She adjusted her top, tugging it down so her boob job and cleavage showed. Then she smoothed her short skirt, skimming it so it fell just beneath her rounded ass.

Tania homed in on him, watching him leave. His slim hips rolled in a loose, easy sexy-assed action. Her eyes steamed hot on his tight butt, the pale denim of his jeans straining across muscled legs. Then she turned her attention to Alex who looked as if she’d just been fucked senseless.

“That’s Solomon,” Alex breathed, wearing a silly grin on her face and a creased frown on her forehead.

“I guessed that, but what I want to know is what did he do to you?” Tania’s eyes narrowed with a shard of pure jealously. She nibbled on her lip, her gaze still locked on the stud of a man walking away.

“He caught me when I fell off the ladder. And Tan, if you hadn’t come in, I honestly think I’d be having it off with him between Sense and Sensibility and The Bridges of Madison County!” She shook her head in frustration. “I don’t know what it is about that man, but he’s only got to touch me and I’m like liquid gold.”

“After what I saw I’m not surprised,” agreed Tania, sucking in a sigh of jealous frustration.

Buy Promise Here:







Find Ellen Here:

twitter: https://twitter.com/Ms_ellen_march

facebook: https://www.facebook.com/ellenmarchauthor

website: http://ellenmarch.jimdo.com/



Sharazade Talks About Her Story, ‘Flaws,’ and the Train Journey that Inspired It

It’s my pleasure to welcome international woman of mystery and Queen of Travel Erotica,  Sharazade, to share with us the story behind her moving, sexy train story, Flaws.

It’s always fun to hear from readers which story in a collection was a favorite. You never get the same answers from everybody, of course, but if we go by the majority, the short story “Flaws” from Transported: Erotic Travel Tales is the most popular. It’s a story told in the first person, from the point of view of a young woman traveling across the US by train, who lacks confidence in her attractiveness because of what she views as her body’s “flaws”—the sorts of things that the reader can see a lover probably wouldn’t even notice, let alone care about, but that can drive the owner to distraction—a scar, unusually large nipples, a few hairs out of place, a belly that isn’t flat.

I’m often asked if any of those flaws are mine. Well—that you don’t get to know. But the real “flaw,” of being hyper-critical of myself, that is sometimes mine and it sometimes isn’t. Like the character in the story, I’m quite aware that confidence is sexy; but like that character, I know how hard it is sometimes to pull yourself up when you’re not feeling confident. It takes more to feel good about yourself than just giving yourself a stern talking to. I confess I get a little impatient sometimes with websites (and people) who say that you should never base your feelings of confidence or self-worth on someone else’s perception or evaluation, but only on your own. Of course there’s truth to that, but come on. What if you’re feeling very down about yourself? Or what if you’re feeling very confident, but … no one else seems to agree with you? Hey, it happens.

So in the story, I let the woman gain some confidence from the unexpected (well, to her, anyway!) advances of an attractive man. His obvious attraction to her and her body is the boost she needs to pull herself out of her low spot. Is she going to base her future sense of self-worth on a fleeting encounter with a guy (or… two guys…) on a train? Of course not. But she sure steps off that train feeling good; and then the cycle can work its way up, instead of down. When you feel good, you look good, and when you look good, you feel good, and so on. Enthusiastic appreciation and lust from a partner contribute to one’s self-image—a good reminder that we should express our own appreciation and lust for our partners in very obvious ways.

On a more personal note, I also like “Flaws” because a lot of the plot line is autobiographical—I have taken that train trip, and I was reading “To the Lighthouse,” and I did get a free sleeper car from the conductor for the second half of the trip. And the rest? Well, I’ll leave that to the readers’ imaginations.


His compartment is small, and I accidentally brush against him as I enter the room. (I was right, he is well-muscled.) The bed is actually a bunk, with a lower and upper berth. There’s a full-length mirror on one wall, and a little doorway on the other side that must go to the bathroom area. I notice he has two suitcases, which seems a bit extravagant. Perhaps one needs a wealth of material to describe the deeds of Herbert Hoover, or maybe he’s just a clothes horse. Some men are. Now that I’m in his room, I feel a bit awkward. How exactly am I going to take a shower? Surely he’d have to leave for a while? But he makes no move to go, and I feel to shy to ask him to. To cover my nervousness, I lean over the bottom bunk and look out the window. Of course, it’s dark, so I can’t see a thing, so now I must look like a complete idiot. Maybe he’ll think I can see the stars, or something.

Suddenly I feel his hand on me, on my side. Startled, I jump up and back into him, there being nowhere else in the little room to go, and now both of his arms are around me, turning me around. He looks at me without speaking, and brushes a lock of my hair out of my face with his hand. Oh. My. OK, I didn’t know this was on his mind, I didn’t suspect this at all. I’m so naïve. Or just dumb. I don’t know what to do. I make a sort of a half move to go, but his arms are firm and keep me there.

And then he kisses me. Oh god. It feels so, so good. I haven’t been kissed in so long. His kisses are gentle, but firm, and… confident. Unbelievably sexy. I give in and kiss him back. I can’t believe this. I can’t believe he’d want to kiss me, but he does. Our kisses grow more passionate, and now his hands are traveling around my body, caressing my back, squeezing my ass, pulling me to him. I think again that I have to get out of here before it goes any further… and then I think, well, why not stay? Why not? I’m young, I’m single, I’m on a train, I’m here with an absolute dream of a guy who wants me. Who cares if it’s only because he couldn’t find somebody better? He’s with me now, and it feels amazing. And with some new confidence that surprises me, I slip my hands under his shirt to feel his body.

He takes this as a sign to remove his shirt. I was right—he has an amazing body, smooth and strong. And now his hands are at my shirt too, lifting it over my head. Oh god. Oh no. I’ve just remembered. It’s not a flaw, exactly, because it’s something I can fix, but … I also have just a few hairs that grow on my nipples, at the edges of my areolas. They’re not normally a problem, I just pluck them out, but I haven’t checked in several days, and I don’t know if they’re there now or not. The light in the cabin is certainly strong enough that he’d see them if he looked down. What can I do? I consider breaking away and saying I need to go to the bathroom, and then I can check for hairs and try to pull them out with my fingers if I need to, but won’t it look weird to just leap out of his arms like that?

While I’m trying to decide whether I’d look worse if I bolted into the bathroom or if he noticed some nipple hairs, I’ve lost my chance—he’s got my shirt off and is unhooking my bra and it’s too late. Each hand is caressing a breast now. I don’t dare look down, and just close my eyes. His hands feel heavenly, touching me with firm, sensuous strokes, his fingers pinching my nipples. I feel a rush of warmth between my legs.

He bends down to kiss my breasts. At least I don’t need to worry about sagging nipples now, because they’re taut and erect, aching for his kisses and light bites. And then… he stands back up, just a little away from me. I open my eyes to see what he’s doing. He’s looking at me. He’s looking right at my chest, touching me while he examines me. He traces my scar with his forefinger. I look at his face, to see what he’s thinking, but I can’t really tell. He runs his finger back and forth over my scar, and then bends and kisses it.

Buy Links:

Amazon US print: http://www.amazon.com/Transported-Erotic-Travel-Tales-Sharazade/dp/1603814655/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1313764337&sr=8-1
Amazon US Kindle: http://www.amazon.com/Transported-Erotic-Travel-Tales-ebook/dp/B003N2PZUW/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2&qid=1313764337&sr=8-1

Amazon UK print: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Transported-Erotic-Travel-Tales-Sharazade/dp/1603814655/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1313764375&sr=8-1
Amazon UK Kindle:http://www.amazon.co.uk/Transported-Erotic-Travel-Tales-ebook/dp/B003N2PZUW/ref=tmm_kin_title_0?ie=UTF8&m=A3TVV12T0I6NSM&qid=1313764375&sr=8-1

Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/14974

Barnes & Noble print:http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/transported-sharazade/1100074487?ean=9781603814652&itm=1&product.urlkeywords=transported%2fsharazade&usri=sharazade
Barnes & Noble Nook: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/transported-sharazade/1100074487?ean=2940011051951&itm=1&product.urlkeywords=transported%2fsharazade&usri=sharazade

Sharazade is professional writer, editor, and consultant with more than 20 books published under another name. She divides her time among Asia, Africa, the Middle East, and the U.S. Not surprisingly, her stories tend to feature some aspect of travel–modes of transportation or exotic locales. She enjoys stories that are realistic enough that they might have happened and fanciful enough that they might not have. She values communication, adventure, exploration, passion, and love. Find her on her blog at http://www.sharazade.fannypress.com.