Tag Archives: Kay Jaybee

The Story Behind Kay Jaybee’s Sexy Novella, Not Her Type

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When www.OystersandChocolate.com asked me to write a novella for their brand new e-print company, the OCPress, I was beyond delighted. I had no hesitation in agreeing, and there was never any question of what my subject matter would be.

Back in 2007 I wrote a serial for Oysters and Chocolate entitled, Going Against Type, about the adventures of a delivery man and one of his regular customers. It was amazing fun to write, and almost from the start I wanted to take the idea and turn it into a novella. So, when the opportunity arose, the characters of Jenny (a home working accountant who has regular DVD deliveries), and John (her rough and ready courier), took on a new dimension, and began a sexual adventure of a lifetime.

When Jenny’s regular film courier, John, reveals how she has become the centre of his sexual dream world, Jenny’s quiet existence is thrown into an arena of desire that she thought she’d long since abandoned.

One unexpected, head swimming romp later, and Jenny is left wondering if her courier will ever visit her again, and if he does, will he mention the hot sex they had on her living room floor that Tuesday afternoon, or will he pretend that it hadn’t happened?

When the following Tuesday arrives and John reappears on Jenny’s doorstep, the scene is set for a continuation of intensely kinky weekly meetings. There is only one problem. John really really isn’t Jenny’s type….

So- what was it that made me want to write about a delivery guy in the first place?

The short answer is, that due to the nature of my “proper” job, I have visits from a handful (I use the word “handful” wisely), of delivery men every week, and boy are they HOT. More importantly, they are all kind, loyal, and work incredibly hard. They also all love what I produce on the writing front, and never miss an opportunity to “suggest” ideas for new stories.

Let’s face it- these guys spend a lot of time driving around on their own. They have WAY TOO MUCH TIME TO THINK- and I am here to tell you that they do not think about what might be for dinner, or if they should mow the lawn that day!!

When I set out to write any story, I want everyone to be able to relate to it in some way. By using the figure of the delivery man, I hope I achieved that. Nearly all of us have had men and women arriving on our doorsteps with a package, and come on- be honest here- how many of you have fantasised about inviting that courier across the threshold??

From a writer’s perspective it is great fun to be able to take such a scenario and turn it into a naughty tale. In this case, I used the idea to allow Jenny and John to meet just once a week- each of their meetings becoming slightly more erotic and exotic than the next.

Not Her Type may start quietly vanilla; but if you have ever read any of my other work, you will know that it won’t stay like that for very long!

In this extract, from week six of their liaison, things are most certainly hotting up. John has had things his own way for the past five weeks, and Jenny has decided that it is high time she turned the tables…

I have a plan. I just hope I can hold my courage and see it through…

“I don’t have long.”

John’s familiar words spilled from his mouth as he crossed the threshold of Jenny’s home. Throwing a handful of DVDs carelessly across the sofa, his lips were on hers before she had the chance to speak, his hands diving up and under her mini denim skirt. A murmur of appreciation escaped him as his traveling fingertips discovered her lack of knickers and stocking tops. “Shit woman, you get hotter!”

Allowing him to fall into their regular pattern, Jenny let John lead her toward the armchair. “You wanton woman, you’re already wet aren’t you?”

“I knew you were on your way.” Jenny didn’t say anything else as she undid his buttons, pulling his belt from his trousers, loop by loop. Stroking the leather lovingly between her fingers she smiled, “Did I ever tell you that I love belts?”

Without waiting for a response, Jenny freed his length and made a fist around his cock. She pumped him twice—as she’d pre-planned in the solo-quiet of the previous evening— before abruptly letting go of him and walking away.

John’s face was a vision of pure confusion as, with hands on her hips, Jenny calmly said, “Get on your knees, delivery man.” He only hesitated for a fraction of a second before stepping free of his pants and dropping to the floor.

Moving forward, without a word, Jenny gestured for John to remove his t-shirt. Walking around him in a slow circle, she examined him from every angle. John had had things his own way for weeks. It was her turn now. The old Jenny had certainly been willingly submissive; someone who relished being led rather than leading, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have the occasional urge to turn the tables and make her partner beg for mercy. She just hoped she hadn’t lost her touch.

Taking a black scarf from a collection of supplies she’d hidden beneath the sofa, Jenny deftly tied his arms behind his back. Unable to hide her pleasure as she continued to study him, Jenny whispered, “There is truly nothing as fantastic to behold as a fuck-me handsome man without power.”

Kneeling before John, she saw that his wide, dark brown eyes were watching her intently. Kissing each of his eyelids, Jenny collected a blindfold from its hiding place and, with a suggestive raise of her eyebrows and a teasing waggle of her fingers, plunged him into darkness. As John opened his mouth to speak, his favorite customer placed a fingertip across his lips. “No talking. Yes?”

John nodded obediently.

Viewing her enslaved lover, Jenny stroked his chest, enjoying the light spring of his hair as it tickled her palms. She knew she was going to make John late for the remainder of his rounds, but she didn’t care, and was going to make sure that he didn’t either.

Reveling in her unprecedented freedom, Jenny let her skirt fall to the floor, her memory teeming with images of their previous animal coupling in the back of his lorry. Her knees and backside still bore the marks of their frantic encounter.

Discarding her shirt and freeing her breasts, she made sure the cotton material caressed John’s tattoos, cleverly letting him know that she was undressing. Jenny placed her hands on John’s shoulders, pushing him so that he was face down on the beige carpet, his hands bound behind him, his arse in the air.

Beginning at his feet, Jenny began a thorough survey of his whole body by stroking a silk handkerchief over his ankles, making John writhe under its tickling touch. Moving it stealthily up the back of his legs, she could taste the sharp tang of tension that infused the room.

He squirmed under her touch. Jenny could tell he was trying to anticipate her next move while struggling not to speak, and she smiled to herself as she dragged the gentle weapon of torture up behind his knees.

By the time Jenny approached the rounded cheeks of his magnificent arse, John’s breathing was ragged, and his tethered hands were clenched together with the effort of not pleading with her to speed up.

Completely absorbed in her task, alternating between both light and firm pressure, Jenny smoothed every inch of his back, his bum, and his sides with the handkerchief, making John flinch and whine until, as she reached his neck, he couldn’t keep quiet any longer, “Oh hell girl, I…”
Cutting through John’s sentence, Jenny said, “As I said earlier, I am very fond of belts. I particularly like the marks they leave behind when they bite the flesh. That sort of blotched, fuzzy, pink patchwork pattern.”

Winding the leather strap around her wrist before she took aim…

From spanking to bondage, threesome action, and full on (occasionally shocking) kink, Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With A Delivery Man, covers all the bases as Jenny discovers the extent of her delivery man’s sexual fantasies. Meanwhile, John discovers just how far from Jenny’s usual “type” he really is…

Buy Not Her Type Here:

http://oceroticbooks.com/CatalogueRetrieve.aspx?ProductID=4716776

Kay Jaybee’s Website: http://kayjaybee.me.uk/

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/KayJaybeeAuthor

Twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/kay_jaybee

 

Allotted Views and Veggie Wet Dreams

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

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

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

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

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

Blurb:

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

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

Excerpt:

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

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

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

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

Buy links:

Amazon UK (paperback)
Smashwords

Body Temperature and Rising — a Positively Witchy Launch

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Oh what a world! Oh what a world!

There are several things I really love about a book launch party, and that’s why I never miss the opportunity to have one. First of all, I’ve been very lucky enough to have all of my launch parties at Sh! Women’s Store, and any opportunity to spend time at Sh! amid all the nasty, sexy loveliness in the company of the wonderful Sh! Ladiez is time well spent. Second, a launch party is a chance for me to see friends that I don’t get to see very often: writing friends, who are as happy to sit around and talk writing and smut as I am, and reading friends, who have read the last book and are excited to read the next one. Ultimately, I guess there’s really only one reason why I’m such a fan of launch parties, and that’s because it’s time spent celebrating with friends.  And celebrating with friends is always a good thing.

Every launch party also has a fair amount of new people. Let me rephrase that. Every launch party

Reading in the cape, my body temperature was was definitely rising.

always has a fair amount of people who, after the party, will be on my ‘friends’ list, and I’m not talking just Facebook either. Every launch party has people that I didn’t know before, people who have made my life richer by their acquaintance.

That’s the preface for another fabulous launch party at Sh! Hoxton. This launch party was different, however. This launch party was for my first ever paranormal erotic novel, Body Temperature and Rising, the first book in the Lakeland Heatwave Trilogy. The theme was witches, ghosts and magic, and I had help on the magic end of the evening from a lot of different areas, not the least of which was the fabulous Sh! staff making sure no one suffered from thirst. They kept the pink fizz coming.

The Northern Birds, Lucy Felthouse and Victoria Blisse, along with Lucy's OH, Ian

Since Fiori, one of the witches in my novel, is a gourmet cook who would never allow anyone into her home without some homemade goodie to accompany tea or coffee, I channelled Fiori for this occasion. Mind you this is something that will probably NEVER happen again. Cooking magic is NOT my forte. But for this occasion I made cookies, complete with love spells, contentment spells and prosperity spells. I knew what spells were on my cookies, but when the lovely Victoria Blisse, accompanied by the fabulously formidable Kevin Mitnik, arrived with MORE lovely chocolately cookies, and Ian, Lucy Felthouse’s wonderful Other Half arrived with yummy pink fudge, well, I wasn’t sure what kind of spells they put on their treats, but let’s just say I did see a couple of formidable vibes being sold upstairs to customers with huge smiles on their faces, and there was lots of laugher and good cheer, so I have a feeling there was some serious magic going on all around.

Shay Briscoe's interpretation of powerful m/m sex magic is both chilling and lovely

I’ve never dressed the part before, but then I’ve never written about witches and magic before, so I decided to suit up in a cape. This cape, however, was designed for outdoor magic in a British winter, not a Sh! Women’s store already heated to body temperature and rising. Nevertheless, I wore it for the first reading, feeling a bit like I was wearing a black wool garden shed on my shoulders. Still, it set the tone for a witchy, magical evening with old friends, smutty friends, new friends, Sh! friends and Oooooh yes, did I mention artist friends?

Fuschia Ayling's interpretation of the opening scenes of BTR; lost on the fells

One of the most magical parts of the evening actually began several weeks ago at the Fannies Rule group ran by my dear friend Sarah Berry. That evening Sarah had three lovely young artists, whose work was on exhibit over at Sh! Portobello. That marvellous combination of sex and art, whether visual or written is in itself magic. All of us smutters already know it, so it was wonderful to meet visual artists who know it too. I was completely delighted when they asked if they could illustrate scenes from Body Temperature and Rising for the book launch. Just thinking about combining the imaginative works of these three artists with my story gave me goose bumps. I’m not sure they got the offer completely out of their mouths before I was jumping all over them with my yes, yes, yes!

The next day I sent them the text from the scenes I planned to read, and they each chose a scene to

Jess Pritchard's interpretation of refuge from the storm in a slate quarry

illustrate. Fuschia Ayling, one of the artists, was kind enough to post the progress of her work for the launch on her blog. Every time she posted, I could hardly contain my excitement. They had all three chosen one of my favourite scenes from BTR, which made me all the more excited. I also saw, on Fuschia’s website, a sneak peak of Shay Briscoe’s painting that gave me goose bumps. Shay had captured the feel of magic so well. Jess Pritchard, the third lovely artist, however, kept her offering as a surprise. And wow! What a surprise it was! Speaking of magic. Imagine my delight when I arrived at Sh! to find these three lovelies had dragged their art all across London on public transport, and the tube to get it there for the launch! No small feat because these were not small pieces of art. (I’ll be chatting more with these three talented people on my blog at a later date.)

It was, indeed an evening of magic, and their powerful paintings made it even more so. When the lovely Jo introduced me and I made my grand

... and then there was a ghost and a witch and a farmer and a chick from the States and ... sex!

entrance in my garden shed black cape, and stood reading amid the three works of art that set the scene so perfectly, I felt transported to the Lakeland Fells, to an abandon slate quarry, to a farmhouse in front of a fire. It was like being in my own imagination, and the imaginations of the artists at the same time.

The fablous artists: Jess Pritchard, Fuschia Ayling, Me, Shay Briscoe

My wonderful new friends celebrated with my lovely writing friends, of whom there were a good many, some who had done everything but chop a path through the wilderness with machetes to get to Hoxton from Chrystal Palace. Victoria Blisse and Lucy Felthouse represented the Northern Birds. Kay Jaybee made her way up from the southwest. Lexie Bay and the fabulous Doug made it from out of town as well. Also present were the fabulous Rebecca Bond, and the delicious Meg Philip. Meg seemed well recovered from her spanking at the hands of the Enforcer, Kay Jaybee, at the Reading Slam the night before. Though I think Meg might have been a bit disappointed that Kay was in a milder, non-spanking mood at the launch. That could have been from the contentment spells on the cookies. To my delight, poet extraordinaire, Mel Jones was also there. Even without the spells on the cookies, Sh!

Kay Jaybee and me, taken by Rebecca Bond

was filled with creative magic, artists, poets, cooks, writers, and people who just flat out love to celebrate sexuality and the written word. All in all, it was exactly the perfect spell for a good time.

As the party spilled out into the streets, fourteen of us ended up over at Byron for a late snack and more magic, already planning and scheming the next excuse to get together and celebrate. As the pressure of public transport pushed us out onto Old Street, which was its own hive of night time celebration, we said our goodbyes to all except Lexie Bay and Doug, who joined Raymond and me for a quiet drink in the lounge at our hotel, talking writing and smut and … writing. Nothing means more to a smutter than the proud support of her Sweetie. And I can’t say enough good about the support we get

Sexy words and sexy paingings

from significant others. As fabulous as it is to have our work appreciated, there’s nothing that feels quite as warm inside as knowing that the person you love most in the world is proud of you and what you do. So Lexie and I talked writing and smut and Raymond and Doug talked writing and smut right along with us.

In fact, we talked writing and smut so much that Lexie and Doug missed their last tube train and had to walk through the wilds of London to catch the night bus home. My friends rock! All of them, the old and the new. At the end of the night, I think I was the recipient of the biggest happiness spell of all. At least it certainly felt that way. In fact, I still can’t wipe the smile off my face when I think about all the fun and magic of this past weekend. I’m already hard at work on book two!

Kay Jaybee Gives Us a Sexy Peek into The Circus

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My guest today is the BDSM Queen herself, Kay Jaybee, here to talk to us about her nasty story, ‘The Circus,’ from Sweetmeats Press’s yummy anthology, Immoral Views. Welcome Kay. Tell us more!

For as long as I can remember, I have always hated the circus. To me there is something terribly unnerving about it. All those false smiles and fake tans. From childhood, I recall the air within the Big Top arena as stifled and tense- as if one was always waiting for something bad to happen as you sat on little fold down wooden seats, the putrid smell of stale popcorn and candy floss hanging in the air.

For me, I guess the word ‘sinister’ sums things up when it comes to the circus- especially the clowns (I still have nightmares about clowns, and as yet cannot bring myself to write about them- maybe one day).

Given this dislike, it might surprise you that I have written a story called The Circus- until you realise that this is a tale about power and control. About the enjoyment of watching how power can be used, abused, and ultimately enjoyed, by those with particular voyeuristic, restraint, and punishment fantasies…

I mentioned how much I dislike clowns- yet they are not the ones who should be most feared within the circus environment- that role belongs to the Ringmaster. I have always thought there was mileage in a story about a Ringmaster. After all he (or she) is the ultimate power within the Big Top. What the Ringmaster dictates is the law- and must be obeyed.

So what would happen, I began to muse (after Kojo Black of Sweetmeats Press first asked me to write him a hard hitting voyeurism story for his latest anthology, Immoral Views), if there was a very special type of circus. A circus where those with sufficient funds could pay to enjoy their BDSM peccadilloes- where most of the audience could get their voyeuristic kicks- and a few could experience the touch of the Ringmasters whip, and the acrobatics of his assistants for real…

The line is blurred between spectator and performer in a theatre of pleasure and pain. Can Carrie survive the trails that await her on the circus’s stage at the hands of the Ringmaster and his two acrobatic assistants? Either way it is going to the road to erotic success is going to smart a bit…

Carrie really hasn’t had time to think about where she is, or why she has allowed herself to attend the derelict theatre where the Circus is held, before the action begins.  As she sits nervously in the audience, she has only just got her mind around the fact that her boyfriend, Scott, not only knows about The Circus, but has sent her there alone; when the Ringmaster declares that her ticket number has been pulled from the lottery which decides who will be the subject of the evenings show…

Cracking his whip against the end of the bed, the Ringmaster bought the room to order.

“Everyone in this room knows the type of punishing entertainment we issue here.  Everyone is here by choice.  There is, however, a safety word.  If our guests utter the word ‘Circus’, they will be removed from the room with no questions asked.  Otherwise, those chosen to take part in tonight’s performance are here to be used for our enjoyment, and maybe, if they’re lucky, their own.

“Before the show can truly begin however, we need to find our prime players.  One man and one woman will be selected from amongst you, using the numbers on your ticket stubs.”

A mass of shuffling hands retrieved tickets from pockets and cleavages, as every member of the audience reread the numbers they had memorised anyway.

“First we will allocate the female guest star.  Ladies, brace yourselves….”

The compère paused, adopting the annoying style of a television quiz show host about to announce the winner of some second rate talent show.

“Number 23!”

Echoes of relief and disappointed ricocheted around the room, but no one moved.  No one approached the stage.

“Come on, don’t be shy.”

Still no one moved, and Carrie shifted uncomfortably in her seat, wishing that whoever had been picked would hurry up.  She knew it wasn’t her.  She was safe with her number 24 ticket tucked in the top of her right boot.  With a sense of relief she relaxed her shoulder muscles a little.

A hasty consultation began between the Ringmaster and his assistants, who nodded their agreement to whatever he was suggesting.

“It seems that the holder of ticket 23 has failed to show up this evening.  Therefore I will ask the next consecutive ticket holder to join me on the stage.  Number 24, please step this way!”

Carrie thought she was going to be sick.  Her stomach felt like a tumble dryer on full spin.  She hadn’t escaped.  She was going to be on the stage.  She was the subject of the evening. 

“Number 24, don’t be coy, up you come!”  The Ringmaster was stepping towards her, reaching out his long slim arm to hoist Carrie up onto the stage.

Before she could consider how he knew she was number 24, Carrie found herself levered up via the backside, arms, and palms of her neighbours until she was standing next to the Ringmaster.

“A beautiful specimen, I’m sure you’ll agree, Ladies and Gentlemen…” the compère went on, shouting above the approving comments of the crowd, “…in a truly gorgeous outfit.”

The very end of his whip began to trail across the top of Carrie’s breasts, making her shiver further.

“However, I think a change of attire would make things even more interesting..

*****

 Anyone familiar with my work will know that I enjoy writing S&M stories with plenty of ouch and sting, along with doses of tenderness and soft kisses- but tenderness at The Circus has to be earned!

Why not have a read of The Circus to find out if Carrie can please the seated voyeurs enough to win the right to her own satisfaction, as well as that of the male volunteer who has been chosen to appear alongside her on stage…Enjoy! xx

Bio

Kay Jaybee is the author of the erotic e-novella Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With A Delivery Driver (OC Press, 2011) The Perfect Submissive (Xcite 2011), and the e-anthologies Yes Ma’am (Xcite, 2011), Quick Kink One and Quick Kink Two (Xcite e-books, 2010). She also wrote the sexy anthology The Collector (Austin & Macauley, 2008), which features the adventures of a writer, forever in the pursuit of tales of sexual adventure.

As well as being a regular contributor to www.OystersandChocolate.com , Kay has a number of stories published by Cleis Press (Best of the Best Women’s Erotica 2; Lips Like Sugar; Lust; Best Women’s Erotica 2007, 2008, 2009, 2010, 2012; Best Bondage Erotica 2012, Best Lesbian Romance, 2009, Sweet Love, Smooth, Gotta Have It, Sweet Confessions), Black Lace (Sex and Music, Sexy Little Numbers), Xcite Books (Ultimate Sin, Seriously Sexy Stocking Filler, Boy Fun, Sex at Work, Threesomes. Best of Both, Power Play), Xcite e-books (Cocktales: All Night Long, Kingmaker, Three For All, Flogging the Scarlet), Mammoth Books (The Mammoth Book of Lesbian Erotica), Penguin (Oysters and Chocolate; Erotic Stories of Every Flavor), Seal (Oysters and Chocolate; Nice Girls; Naughty Sex) Sweetmeats Press (Immoral Views) and Forum and Foreplay Magazines.

 

Florian Meacci’s Illustrations Sizzle in Immoral Views

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There’s been a lot on the blog lately about the new Swetmeats Press anthology, Immoral Views, partly because I have a story in it, but partly because it’s just fabulous. And it’s unique in that, like all Sweetmeats Press publications, it is gorgeously and sexily illustrated. I’m lucky enough to have the fabulous illustrator who did the illustrations for Immoral Views, with me today. Please welcome, the amazing Florian Meacci.

KD: I’ve been looking at your website, Florian and in the ‘about’ section, it simply says, ‘Florian Meacci is a French freelance illustrator based in London.’ I suppose that’s the difference between a ‘word smith’ and an artist/illustrator. If your art speaks of who you are, then I can only say that you are a man of many facets. What do you want your art to say about you? Or do you consider yourself just a conduit for what you’re commissioned to create?

FM: I think my art speaks for itself. It’s me, it’s what I like, what’s in my head. And even if it’s a commission you can find something of me in it. To be honest this part on my blog is something I forgot to complete. Most of the time people are just interested in the art. They don’t read. But maybe I’m wrong, so I will do something more exiting about it.

KD: How did you end up scheming and planning with KoJo Black to do the illustrations for his wonderfully smutty anthology? Had you done anything like Immoral Views before?

FM: I found an ad on the university of art website a couple of months ago where Kojo Black was looking for an illustrator for erotic illustrations. I saw the ad, and I said, ‘oh my God, I need to do this job.’ I’ve never done anything like this before but I love to do unusual stuff. And I said I HAVE to do that. I sent him my portfolio, but he’d already picked someone to do the job. But he asked me if I wanted to do three illustrations for his website, and I said yes. He was so happy with it, he asked me to work on Immoral Views. I was so happy.

KD: I have to admit, I’m quite prejudiced, and I love the illustrations you did for my story, Allotted Views, but were there any particular illustrations you enjoyed more than others?

FM: Allotted Views was the first story I worked on. It’s always hard to start a project. You feel more comfortable with it after a few illustrations. It was a challenge to do the image where you see the girl at the window, but I think it’s one of my favourite images I’ve done for the book. I love Painted pussy; especially the second image with the two girls. I found the position really sexy.

KD: Were there any unexpected surprises along the way in illustrating Immoral Views?

FM: The first thing I had to do was to translate the brief into French to make sure I understood everything. That was the least fun part. The drawing part was great. Some pictures I thought would be difficult to realise (angle of camera shot, etc.) but in the end it was easier to do, and I was really happy with what I had done. Some stories required me to go on really strange websites to find reference but I love challenges. But the thing which surprised me the most was to discover all the authors were women.

KD: What is the most exciting project you’ve ever illustrated?

FM: It’s the project I’ve just finish. I can’t really speak about it but it’s a visual for a t-shirt company. It’s the most complex illustration I’ve done, drawn with biro. It took me one month to do, working on it non-stop. I Can’t wait to see that out!

KD: Is there a project you’d love to do, sort of your ideal project, if you will, if you could choose?

FM: I would love to work for a fashion magazine. It’s the aim of 2012!

KD: What is Florian Meacci up to now? And what does 2012 hold in store?

FM: I’m currently working on a poster for an event in four cities in France for the third year. Like I said above, I’d really love to do an illustration for a fashion magazine. Fashion is something I love to draw and it would be amazing to see my work published in a magazine like WAD or Dazed and Confused.

Florian Meacci
Graphic Designer & Illustrator
florian.meacci@live.fr
http://florianmeacci.blogspot.com/