Tag Archives: Rebecca Bond

Allotted Views and Veggie Wet Dreams

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?


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?


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)

Rebecca Bond Shares the Story Behind Painted Pussycat

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

“Why do you come here?”

I met her gaze.

“I don’t know.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just relax.”

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Carrie stood, smiling as she gazed down at me.

“Here,” she said, “take my hand.”

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

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

Her nails grazed across my hip and my pulse raced.

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

“I. . .er. . .I don’t understand.”

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

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

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

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

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


Buy Links:

Painted Pussycat for Kindle

Immoral Views for Kindle or Print

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

Body Temperature and Rising — a Positively Witchy Launch

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!

Florian Meacci’s Illustrations Sizzle in Immoral Views

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 challengesBut 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


Two Helpings of Nasty Readings with a Side of Spanking, Please

Kay Jaybee enthralls her audience

What’s better than going to London for one exciting reading event at Sh!? Going to London for TWO exciting reading events at Sh! And even better still, going to London for two exciting reading events at Sh! AND a spanking class.

I’ve been looking forward to this big event for weeks now. The first event was at Sh! Hoxton. There’s no way I was going to miss the launch party for Kay Jaybee’s fantastic novella, Not Her Type, from Oysters and Chocolate press. I’ve read it and reviewed it and loved it. But it’s another thing entirely to

Kay Jaybee practicing her technique

watch the lovely booted, bespectacled, Lady in Red sit right in front of you and read all manner of nastiness to a packed house. If anyone can keep an audience squirming in their seats, Kay Jaybee can. And for those who wanted to squirm even more, there was a good spanking to be had. And I can tell you from first-hand experience, Kay Jaybee gives a mean spanking.

Janine Ashbless, Kay Jaybee, KD Grace, Rebecca BondThe Pet Shop, book of the month at Sh! Hoxton!

Having experienced one of Sh!’s yummy spanking classes before, I had some idea what the audience was up for, not the least of which was fondling the lovely handmade spankers and floggers and crops and cat-o-nine-tails and … Breathe, KD, breathe!

Kay Jaybe read, and Sh!’s fabulous manager, Renee, spanked and gave instructions on technique and implements. And I enjoyed the fabulous company of such delicious smutters as Janine Ashbless, escorted by the charming Mr Ashbless, Rebecca Bond, Lexie Bay, escorted by Mr. Bay and an international crowd from Italy, the UK, Sweden, Kazakhstan, and the States. Sexy stories and spanking — loved the world over.

The Pet Shop is the book of the month at Sh! Hoxton!

The evening ended at the local Moroccan restaurant talking writing and sex and eating couscous chicken. There was a quick drink at the hotel bar, then off to bed to rest up for day two.

Day two began with breakfast amid the tourists all bundled up for a day of sightseeing in London. And since we had nothing to do before the Immoral Views reading at Sh! Portobello that night, Kay Jaybe, Raymond and I all descended on the National Gallery. Sadly we weren’t able to get tickets for the Da Vinci exhibit, but still a day at the National Gallery is always well worth the effort. A visit

KD Grace and Kay Jaybee at Piccadilly Circus

can’t end without me standing, mouth agape, totally in awe in front of Botticelli’s painting of Venus and Mars. Both moving and sexy, it’s one of my favourite paintings of all times. This painting is the perfect Renaissance version of ‘make love not war,’ and it’s the inspiration for one of the scenes in The Initiation of Ms Holly. I love mythology, don’t you?

Prowling the National makes for some serious hunger, so we had Chinese buffet in Soho before spending some time in the Tudor hall of the National Portrait Gallery, then back over to the hotel to have a quick kip and before we got ready for the night’s reading naughtiness.

Lexie Bay and me

You can’t have visited my site in the past few months without reading about the hot new Sweetmeats Press anthology, Immoral Views, which contains my story, Allotted Views. The anthology has a soft spot in my heart for several reasons. Firstly, there are only five authors in it, and I am in the company of four of my very favourite writerly folks, Kay Jaybee, Lucy Felthouse, Rebecca Bond, and Lexie Bay. It’s great to be between the covers with such exquisite company. Secondly it’s amazing to see one’s work illustrated. (Incidentally, I’m

It takes a lot of bubbly and a lot of cupcakes to power a hot Sh! reading event.

interviewing the fabulous illustrator of Immoral Views, Florian Meacci, on Sunday. You won’t want to miss it.) And finally, the stories are delicious, and so varied that they contain something for everyone.

The Immoral Views reading at Sh!Portobello was a gathering of authors and of the mastermind and editor, KoJo Black, who I had the pleasure of interviewing two weeks ago on my site. Sadly, Lucy Felthouse wasn’t able to join us, but we all agreed her work should be represented, so Kay Jaybee pretended to be Lucy Felthouse and read a very nasty bit from her story. When we weren’t reading, we were enjoying, along with the audience, pink bubbly and gorgeous cupcakes provided by KoJo.

The readings were hot, the audience was appreciative, and as always, the lovely Sh! Ladiez were the very bests hostesses.

At the end of the evening, it was back over to the Hoxton area for pizza and debriefing and lots of laughter. There were already murmurs about the next time. And I’ll be having details on that very soon.A double portion of Sh!, complete with readings and a spanking class and fabulous friends was another fantastic reminder of why I do what I do. We writers will always write. Not to would be like not breathing. But when such fantastic friends and so much fun happen to be the fringe benefits, well, I reckon I feel very lucky, indeed, that writing chose me.