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In The Flesh Part 1 A FREE Story in Progress: Enjoy!

In the Flesh 11880534_1463650103936599_545702979581425574_n

 

One of the things I love to do most on this blog is share stories that you won’t find anywhere else. Writing stories for my blog rather than just sharing observations or navel-gazes always feels much more personal, and much more like I’m sharing myself with you lot. Plus, it’s just flat-out fun! And if you’ll recall, a few months ago, I did write that I had promised myself to have a little more fun with my writing. 

In the Flesh is a dark and sexy story that has had several incarnations in its shorter form, but never quite worked because it needed space to grow. I couldn’t think of a better place for it to grow. In the Flesh is a blend of paranormal erotica and almost, but not quite … okay, quite possibly … horror. As I say, what I’m sharing with you, this version, is an expanding work in progress. I hope you enjoy it! 

KDG/GM

 

 

 

 

 

 

In the Flesh: Part 1

P1020065“You’re early.” Breathing heavily, Annie stood in the door she had opened only a crack.

I wasn’t early, but I wasn’t stupid either. Her hair was mussed, her robe was carelessly wrapped around her and the flushed glow in her cheeks was unmistakable.

“Shall I come back in an hour? Two?”

She threw a quick glance over her shoulder, and from inside I caught the strong scent of jasmine, Annie’s favourite flower. “Thanks, Susan. You’re a dear.”

“Okay, you lucky cow, but when I come back, I’ll expect details.” I barely managed a kissed on her cheek before the door slammed in my face.

Neither of us was famous for our successful love lives. Mine was basically non-existent, but Annie was notorious for her bad choices – usually married or narcissistic twats with a wide range of addictions. Annie hadn’t mentioned that she was seeing anyone, but I knew she had a lot on her mind with her heavy load at the estate agency and the renovation of what she was now affectionately calling Chapel House.

“It happens all the time,” Annie had told me when I went with her to view the place before she bought it. “No one’s religious any more so small churches are deconsecrated when they’re no longer in use, and they’re sold as boutiques, office buildings, houses and even pubs. But this one is about to become my home.” She had chatted away enthusiastically about the lounge that would be where the altar was, and how the whole nave would be open-plan living at its best, kitchen with an Aga, study in what had been the small choir loft, and the perfect en suite that she’d always dreamed of. What good was money if you couldn’t spend it?

After what I felt was an appropriate time at a nearby Starbuck’s, I returned with a nice bottle of chardonnay and my best tell me all about him smile. I knocked, then knocked again. I was just beginning to think she was having such an orgy that she had forgotten about me when the door opened and she squinted out into the fading evening light.

“Susan?”

She was still in her robe, but the glow was gone, and there were circles under her eyes. She forced a smile. “I must have fallen asleep.” Her anemic embrace alerted me to sharp angles and jutting bones that had been cushioned by shapely curves when I saw her three months ago.

“Honey, you’re thin. Must be too much shagging and not enough chocolate. I can’t wait to see what you’ve done with the …” She flipped on the switch behind her, and I could see, in the harsh light of a bare bulb, that for all practical purposes, she had done nothing with the place.

She looked around and colour rose to her face. “I’ve been busy.”

“Things wild at work?”

“I’ve taken some time off,” came the curt reply.

In spite of all her big plans, Chapel House was still a church, complete with dusty pews and an altar covered in plastic drop cloths.

“I see the previous owner hasn’t moved out yet.”

She ignored my comment. “I’ll show you around.”

“No need. You’ve shown me around before. Just find some glasses and fill me in on all your news.” I followed her down a narrow hallway into more recent addition to the building, added on to a small lady chapel no longer in use, which became a a small kitchen and a couple of rooms for classes and meetings, now all divided off by hanging drop cloths, just as they had been when she’d shown me the place before she bought it.

“You can sleep there.” On the floor behind one petition was a mattress with a duvet thrown over it. There was a dusty wardrobe in one corner and a backless chair for a make-shift night table. “Bathroom’s down the hall.” She gave a listless nod in the direction.

“Annie?” I took her in my arms. “What’s going on? What did you and Shag Boy get up to anyway that left you this exhausted?”

“Don’t call him that,” she pushed me away with an effort that seemed uncharacteristically fragile for the woman who had been her company’s best agent three years running. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

I took her hand and led her into the kitchen. “A glass of wine and a nice take-away will set you right. You should have told me he’d be here, I could have come some other time, or he can stay. I mean I have earplugs, you know. And anyway, when do I get to meet him.”

She offered me a shrug and shoved limp blond hair behind her ear. “It’s complicated.”

I ended up drinking most of the bottle of chardonnay, and a lovely take-away was wasted, as Annie picked at her Mongolian beef and practically fell asleep at the table.

“Come on.” I took the glass from her hand and pulled her to her feet. “You’re exhausted, and I’m not sympathetic, but you can’t tell me juicy gossip when you’re falling asleep in your rice. Now which of these lovely rooms is the master suite?”

“I sleep there.” She shot a glance back down the hall toward the nave. “I like the way the moonlight comes through the big windows in the apse above the altar,” she added quickly.

‘Are you the sacrifice?’ I asked, taking her arm, and I was surprised at her strength as she jerked away.

‘I told you, I just like the light.’ In spite of her protests, I walked her up through the nave, trying to ignore the disquiet clenching at my stomach, as she shuffled up the aisle between the pews, past the transept and the chancel, to a pallet of blankets and pillows on the floor at the foot of the altar. The air was heavy with the scent of jasmine, but there were no flowers that I could see. I felt a chill finger its way up my spine.

P1020056“Annie, I’ve always known you were a little weird, but this is just creepy.”

“No really, look.” With a feline stretch, she lay back in a pool of moonlight and I caught my breath at the affect. It was as though she were lying under a luminous waterfall. In the monochrome tones of growing night, she appeared startlingly transparent. As the robe that she wore fell open, her nipples rose to and peaked, and the woman who had always been a little bit shy about her body tugged and shoved aside the robe until she lay naked atop the blankets, her hair spread across the pillow like a reaching shadow. The moonlight exaggerated the arch and curve of rib bones way too visible for the woman I knew. Goose flesh rippled over rice paper skin, and for a moment, in her writhing and stretching, in the soft moan that filled her throat, if I hadn’t been standing there watching, I’d have thought her to be making love with someone. In spite of what my eyes told me, I gave a quick glance around the room to be certain we were alone and even then, I wasn’t certain.

Annie was usually the take-charge chick between the two of us, but action seemed better than letting myself be freaked out by what was probably, what was hopefully nothing. I sat down next to her and pulled the mound of tangled blankets up around her chilled body, tucking her in. Before she could protest, I laid a hand against her forehead. “Annie, tell me what’s wrong. Have you seen a doctor? Are you ill?” My insides knotted at all the horrible things loss of weight and constant tiredness might herald.

“No! No Susan, nothing like that, I promise you.” She sat up and threw her arms around me in the most enthusiastic show of affection I’d had since my arrival. “Oh Susan, I want so much to tell you everything. I can hardly contain myself, but I just get so tired. You’d understand better if you knew him.”

“Does he at least have a name?”

She squeezed my hand and lay back on the pile of pillows. Outside somewhere close by someone was burning garden trash. I looked around to close the window, but none of the arched windows in the nave were open. Judging from the way my eyes burned, it must be quite a bon fire, I thought. Annie coughed and cleared her throat. “Please, Susan, if you’re my best friend, don’t ask any questions. Just let me tell you in my own time, in my own way.”

“All right. I’m listening.” A flutter of a breeze curled around the altar and rustle the plastic ever so slightly.

For a long time she didn’t speak. Her lips were the only things about her that were still full and shapely, but even they seemed pale and colourless in the moonlight. She smoothed the blanket carefully over her thighs. “I knew he was watching me even while Todd and I were still together.”

“Todd? You mean the married bloke?”

She nodded. “So many times I felt like someone was near me, looking out for me. I really didn’t realize who was pursuing me until after I broke up with Todd, about the time I moved in here.” She sat silently for a few seconds, staring out across the empty pews. “I realized I no longer wanted to live without him. That was the first time our relationship became… physical.”

‘Became physical,’ I chuckled. ‘Right.’

She ignored my sarcasm. The bow of her mouth, the way she curled a lock of hair around her finger, made her seem childlike, innocent. “Oh Susan, you’d understand if you knew him.”

I’d have called the police if I knew him, I thought, all the while wishing the neighbours would stop with the damned burning already.

“I know you must be thinking I’m crazy.”

“Hon,” I squeezed her hand. “I’ve always thought you were crazy, so what else is new?”

She forced a jagged little laugh and continued. “He was so angry when I invited you.”

The disquiet I felt escalated into something a little more tetchy. “Jesus, Annie, he controls who your friends are? That’s really sick.”

“No, it’s not that. He’s been wanting to meet you for ages. He felt I didn’t want you to know about us, that I was ashamed of him. I wasn’t,” she added quickly. “I could never be. And anyway, it doesn’t matter. In the end, he convinced me that you were someone who would understand.”

That I had somehow gotten this bloke’s attention made me feel slightly queasy. “What else does he know about me?”

“He knows everything, Susan. He knows what we’re saying now, what we’re thinking, what we’re feeling.”

“What the fuck is he, a mind reader?”

In the growing gloom, she seemed as unsubstantial as the plastic on the altar. She pulled the blanket close around her with tightly fisted hands, knuckles chalk pale. “Susan,” her voice was a thin whisper that I might not have heard in a place less silent. “This is going to sound completely barking, but I think he might be God.”

*****

Part 2 will be up next week! 

 

Cultivating a Story for the Brit Babes SEXY JUST GOT RICH Part 2

sexyjustgotrich coverBreak out the popcorn and the chocolate! You’ve just joined the party for the second half of a double feature! The first half is over on the Brit Babes’ Blog today, so don’t miss out on the first half of Cultivation!

I’m celebrating the Brit Babes’ fabulous new anthology, Sexy Just Got Rich with a double dose of vintage K D Grace. Sometimes older stories are the inspiration for newer ones, and sometimes a romp back down memory lane gives us writers a chance to see how we’ve grown. That has happened with Cultivation, which is actually one of my very first published stories, one that I can easily use as a mile-marker in my growth as a writer, but one that I loved enough and, in which I found enough inspiration to use as a jumping-off point for my contribution for the Sexy Just Got Rich anthology – Buying the Farm.

Today I want to share with you how an old vintage story can inspire a new one, a more complete one by giving you THE WHOE THING! I said a double feature, and I meant it. While the first half of Cultivation is over on the Brit Babes’ blog TODAY, the conclusion of it is here on mine, so grab the popcorn and settle in for the second half. If you’ve not read the beginning yet, follow the links right on over the the Brit Babes’ blog and part I of Cultivation. If you’ve already done that, then enjoy the climax!

Afterwards be sure to check out the buy links and the blurb for the totally delicious Brit Babes’ anthology, Sexy Just Got Rich to see what Cultivation inspired, and to read totally sizzling stories by all eight of the Brit Babes. In the meantime, enjoy the read! And don’t forget to support our Thunderclap! 


Cultivation Part Two

Apollo kneeling before her, Apollo healing her. The room seemed suddenly out of focus. She closed her eyes, fighting back tears.

“Are you all right,” he lifted a cool hand to her forehead. “It is pretty warm out today. You should lie down a minute.” He eased her back onto the bed. “Shall I get you some water?”

She shook her head. “I’m okay. It’s just strange being home, knowing I’ll never go back to St. Louis, knowing that … nothing will ever be the same.”

“Things change.”

“I know,” she felt a tear slide out from under her closed lid. “But just for a little while can’t we keep things the way they are?” She scooted over and patted the bed next to her.

He hesitated briefly, then lay down cautiously. She snuggled in close to him and laid her head on his chest, breathing in the earthy scent of him, feeling his heart race as she slipped an arm around him.

“I’m dirty,” he said.

“So am I.” She ran a hand down his chest and brought it to rest low on his belly, feeling his breath catch and his stomach muscles tighten. “I watched you masturbate last night.” For some reason telling him seemed such a natural thing.

“I know.”

“You weren’t embarrassed?”

He smiled, “I was aroused.”

She held her breath. “Did you know –”

“That you were aroused too? Yes, I knew.”

There were a thousand questions she wanted to ask him, but the silence was so companionable.

Slowly, cautiously, he exhaled, then he enfolded her in his arms close to his heart beat.

And Apollo was chasing Daphne through the woods, so close that at times his hands brushed her skin, but even as his touch burned her with desire, she fled on, protecting her innocence. She felt his breath on the back of her neck, like a hot summer wind. Her nipples ached for the touch of his hand, and between her legs there was a swelling of need, a longing for secrets only he could teach her, if she’d only let him touch her there, if she’d only let him take her. But her innocence. Her innocence…

Cassie woke with a start, still lying in Simon’s arms.

“Are you all right? You fell asleep and I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

“Apollo was chasing me.”

He smoothed the hair away from her face. “Did you turn into a tree?”

“Not yet.” That he knew the story somehow touched her, and once again she fought tears. “But I’m afraid I will any moment, and then I’ll feel nothing ever again.”

There was a knock on the door and they jumped apart. Simon stood quickly and straightened his clothes. “Yes?”

“Dinner’s ready.” It was Cassie’s father. “Have you seen Cassie?

“She’s here.” He shot her a quick glance. “We’re dressing a blister.”

“Well, hurry up. Joanie can be unpleasant if dinner gets cold.”

 

The next day Simon went to the fields early, and Cassie worked in the garden alone, thinking of Simon, thinking of Deke, thinking of Apollo and Daphne. She was walking in the woods that evening when Deke arrived. He wore his best jeans and smelled of deodorant soap. Under the edge of his John Deer cap, his hair was still wet from the shower. “Your dad said you’d be down here hiding in the trees.”

The Sex Toys Interview 009“The pileated woodpeckers are excavating a new nest,” she said. “There’ll be chicks soon.” For a moment they stood listening to the resonant drumming.

“I need to live here, Deke,” she blurted, as the woodpecker drummed again. “Your parents have your brother and sister close by. My dad has only me. We agreed we’d live here, remember?”

“Is that what’s been eating you?” He pulled her into a bear hug. “Hell, Cass, there’s plenty of room at home for your dad too if he wants. But if he doesn’t,” he added quickly, “we can live here. It’d probably be better actually. There’s so much that needs doing on your dad’s place. He hasn’t been able to take care of it like he should since his heart attack.”

She felt her hackles rise again. “We’ve managed.”

He gave her a peck on the forehead and mussed her hair. “Oh sure, you got by, but look at this scrub here? How many acres of good farmland is just going to waste because he never got around to clearing it.”

Cassie pushed him away. “This scrub is old growth forest, Deke. It was here when the first Fieldings homesteaded, and it’ll be here when I’m dead and buried beneath it.”

He chuckled softly and tried to pull her back to him. “Things change, Cass, and you might just find when we have a couple of kids to clothe and educate that a few extra acres of farmland will do us a whole lot more good than all that bullshit you learned at college.”

She stepped back and squared her shoulders, feeling her gut clench. “I stay and the trees stay and you go. Now.”

He heaved a sigh and scratched his head under his cap. “Cass, listen to me, you’ll see my point in time and –”

“I said go.”

For a moment he stood staring at her as though he were waiting for her to change her mind. Then he shrugged, turned on his heels, and walked back through the trees.

Cassie felt like her chest would burst from anger and from all the feelings she had no words for. She wiped furiously at her eyes. Was he really so obtuse that he didn’t understand what mattered to her, or did he simply not care? Did he not see there were things that, once set in motion, could never be undone?

She wasn’t sure how long she stood beneath the hickory tree feeling paralyzed, feeling trapped, watching the shadows move across the leaf mold and disappear, whishing she could do the same. After what seemed like an eternity, she looked up to see Simon standing next to her.

“It’ll be dark soon.” He shuffled from foot to foot suddenly embarrassed. “Your father said you’d be all right. He says you know these woods like the back of your hand.” He stepped closer. “But I thought… I thought maybe you might need someone — ”

She didn’t give him time to finish. Instead, she lifted her arms around his neck and pulled him to her, finding his mouth warm and yielding, responsive in ways that sent tremors down her belly and into her groin.

Gently, he pulled away. “We should go.”

“No!” She pulled him back to her. “Don’t leave me like this.” She tugged his tee shirt from his trousers and shoved it up to caress his pectoral muscles, feeling them tighten beneath her touch. “Give me what I need, Simon. I may never have another opportunity.”

His large hands cupped her breasts, and he slid his thumbs over her taut nipples before he caressed the curves of her hips and the roundness of her bottom. “There are always opportunities,” he whispered against the hollow of her throat. Everything in her ached as he paused to drag the shirt off over his head and drop it onto the ground.

“It’s not really change I fear, Simon. It’s that things will stay the same forever.” The tears started again.

“The choice is yours. It’s always yours.” He brought his hands to rest on her shoulders, then shoved aside the straps of her tank top and bra, pushing everything down until her breasts were mounded, nearly toppling from her clothing. Then he traced the path along her collarbones and down her chest, lifting her breasts free from the constraining garments into his kneading hands. She watched through a faceting of tears as he took each nipple in turn, suckling as much of her fullness into her mouth as he could, then circling the stippling of her areole, with feather strokes of his tongue.”

“Oh God,” she cried out. “I want… I want so much.”

“Then have it. Have it all. No one’s keeping it from you.” He knelt in front of her, working his way down the flat of her stomach, pushing and shoving her clothing out of the way, tasting the salt of her sweat, nipping the goose flesh of the sensitive path down to her navel. There he nuzzled beneath the waste band of her cut-offs, fumbling with the fly until he had freed a path over the curls of her pubis. His hands slid over her hips, easing the shorts down, cupping, caressing, fingers finding pathways and crevices thickening and moist.

“I don’t know what to do,” she gasped.

“Yes you do. You’ve always known.” He slipped one leg out of her shorts and lifted it until her foot rested on his shoulder, then he trailed kisses from the swell of her calf up the inside of her thigh until his mouth met his fingers. For a second he knelt before her pouting vulva, fingers still fondling and stroking, holding her open to his hungry gaze. Then he released a sigh and the warmth of his breath sent shivers over her pussy and up her belly.

She whimpered softly at the lavings of his tongue — cautious at first, almost shy in its exploration. Then he grew bold, tongue darting, teeth nipping, lips suckling until his face glistened in the growing dusk with the sheen of her pleasure, and her legs gave way as she came.

Swee Corn 2 9 aug 2012He caught her. Making a nest in the leaf litter with his tee shirt, he lowered her onto the ground. She was still writhing as though she did not belong to herself, but to a possessing spirit who lived only for pleasure.

She watched in fascination as he lowered his jeans, releasing his erection, the tip moist with beading pre come. From his pocket, he took a condom and carefully slid it onto his cock, then he offered her a shy smile.

She opened her legs and lifted her hips, guiding him into her dilated pussy until he filled her and stretched her almost, but not quite to the point of pain. And when she so full of him there was no room for even a thought that wasn’t of him, he began to thrust and rock and rub, carefully at first, creating exquisite friction against the exposed node of her clitoris until it thrummed like a high tension wire.

The veins in his neck bulged as he gained speed and power, thrusting faster and harder. Then he gathered her still closer, his hands cupping her ass, pressing her to him, pushing still deeper until she was sure he would split her in two, and yet the thought of him stopping was unbearable.

And suddenly Daphne stood still. With the catch of her breath, she turned on tiptoes and lifted her arms to Apollo, who enfolded her to his heart and entered her, expanding her to take into herself the universe and everything in it.

The woods echoed with the cries of pleasure.

When Cassie returned from the woods, still pulling leaf litter from her hair, Deke was watching television and sipping coffee with her father. She nodded to her dad, then turned her attention to Deke. “We need to talk.”

He sat the cup down hard enough to splash coffee. “You got that right.” He followed her onto the front porch and plopped into the lawn chair balancing it on its back legs. “I’m listening.”

“I can’t marry you, Deke.” Her bluntness surprised even her.

“What?” The chair dropped back onto all fours, and Deke grasped the arms as though he feared being catapulted out. “Just because of a little disagreement? Surely we can work this out.”

“No we can’t. We’re just too different in too many ways. I’m sorry.”

“We weren’t that different till you went off to St. Louis.” He stood and moved toward her, but she stepped back. “I waited for you, Cass. All these years, me wanting a family, and you off in college.” He spat the words as though they were vile.

“You’ll find someone else. Lots of woman would happily give you a family.” She paced the porch, gathering her thoughts. “But I’m not the one. Fielding Farm is my home, and I’ll farm it how I see fit, college bullshit and all.”

“You’ll regret this, Cass, and when you do, I may not be around to take you back.”

“I’ll take my chances.”

He shoved past her and down the steps.

Her father joined her on the porch just in time to see the gravel spin beneath the tires of Deke’s pickup. “You sent him packing?”

She nodded.

For a long moment, they stood in silence watching the sunset over the tender green of the young corn field across the road.

“For good?”

She nodded again.

“Took you long enough.”

She shot him a look of surprise. “But I thought –”

“I’m not so old I don’t remember what love looks like, Cassie, and that wasn’t it.”

Cassie’s laugh came out more like a sob, but before she could find words, he waved her away. “You’re making me miss the news, so off with you, down to the porch swing to plan the newer greener version of Fielding Farm.” He snapped his fingers and offered her a mischievous smile. “Almost forgot, you’ll have to share it with Simon now, but I reckon neither one of you’ll mind that too much.” He kissed her cheek and went inside.

The End

BBBillionaires4

 Sexy Just Got Rich: The Brit Babes Do Billionaires

Billionaires have it all but that doesn’t mean they don’t have to work hard to get what their hearts desire. In this anthology of erotic BDSM stories the Brit Babes offer heroes and heroines who aren’t shy about taking what they want. From farmyards to luxury penthouses, wealth is all about sating needs, connecting souls and taking pleasure to new highs. Whether you’re looking for a coffee break read or something longer to curl up in bed with, you’ll find something to suit your needs in Sexy Just Got Rich.

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