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Sunday, August 28, 2011


Thanks so much for stopping in again, sweeties. Here's the second part of 'The Jock', as promised. It will also be posted @ Red Lipstick Journals today. It's part of the Red Lipstick Journals 'Summer Sizzlers Anthology'. If you like a free copy hit the RLJ link SUMMER SIZZLERS and read the instructions. I believe the offer is over by September 1 - so time is limited. Enjoy!

Part 2
By: Blak Rayne

Tim bent over in front of me, stroking his cock. Uncircumcised with a thick hood, his member was beautiful like him. He used the desk to support his upper torso. The view, exceptionally nice and I aimed to make it last. My jeans were gone and I fondled my member, teasing the length until it was engorged. I licked my index and middle fingers, pressed them to his sweet spot and massaged. Tim groaned and backed his ass into me. I won’t deny it I love it when he does that. The hunger took over. I splashed him with champagne and I knelt down to lick, keeping my cock satisfied at the same time. The alcohol dripped from his scrotum, and I took time to suck every inch of his sac and thighs dry. Tim’s laughter faded quick when he gripped either side of the desk, grunting. I mounted him and rode this phantom wave of ecstasy. Who knows how long a duration–seconds or minutes, I really couldn’t say, but I made sure we both enjoyed the intimacy. My philosophy, whether I’m in the right frame of mind or not, I always make sure Tim walks away a happy man.
I suppose you’re wondering how we hooked up again. It happened by complete accident. My last relationship had left me at odds with life and I decided on a change. No more apartments. No more parties. No more bullshit. So, I departed from the city and bought this house back in my hometown–a small, three bedroom, fixer-upper on acreage. Six months after I moved in the hot water line under the kitchen sink sprung a leak. I wasn’t able to fix the pipe and finally threw in the towel. I’m not a plumber. I wear suits all day and quote numbers, I’m a mortgage broker. I know as much about indoor piping as I know about women. I shut the water off and skimmed the phone book in search of a plumber. There were several, but only one offered twenty-four hour emergency service, Sundays included. Could this be an emergency? Fucked if I knew. But, it was a Sunday. I left a message when the answering machine kicked in. I never received a return call, instead, an hour later, my doorbell rang.
I didn’t know. How could I? Karma? When I answered the door, there he stood, Tim on my porch with a toolbox in hand, looking older but still amazing. My heart stopped and he appeared equally as stunned.
We gawked at each other. Self-conscious, I instantly sucked in my gut to give the illusion I’d maintained a great body. My cock pushed for freedom and my heart beat like a drum. We were right back in our high school science class and shit, here I tried to impress the guy, but in actuality I probably looked like an idiot.
“You called…something about a pipe?” he asked.
“I did. It’s the hot water pipe under the kitchen sink.” I moved so he could walk by. “How have you been?”
“Good.” Tim glanced at me in passing. “And, how are you?”
He had a bad case of the nerves. I read it in his eyes.
“Busy. I bought this place half a year ago. It needs a lot of TLC.”
“It doesn’t look that bad.” He knelt in front of the cupboard.
“Not when you know about renovations.”
We talked. He said something about my message and he couldn’t believe it was my voice on the answering machine. He wasn’t going to bother at first but then the curiosity got to him. I didn’t say a word, just listened. Tim fixed the hot water pipe. The problem, a cracked washer. That shows how incompetent I am, I should’ve been able to repair it myself.
“Thanks. How much do I owe?”
“It’s on me. Pretty basic fix.” He scrubbed his hands in the sink and dried them with a tea towel.
“I should pay.”
“There’s no need, Adrian.” Tim packed up the toolbox. “I replaced a washer. A washer cost pennies.”
“Great!” I followed him to the front door. I wanted to say more than great. I wanted to be assertive, ask him out on a date. But I didn’t know if he had a relationship and he gave no indication. “Well, at least I know who to call if I’ve got plumbing problems.”
“Thanks…I appreciate it and on a Sunday…”
Tim nodded and dumped the toolbox in the back of a truck. And wouldn't you know it, it was the same damned pick-up truck from high school. I closed the front door and stood there breathing hard like some pathetic imbecile. The man I’d been crazy about since I was a teenager was just in my house, right within reach, I had every chance in the world and I did nothing. Fucking nothing! The rage swelled and I drove a fist into the wall. “What kind of an asshole am I…” I said aloud then jumped. Someone knocked. I threw the door open and Tim looked back at me.
“I wondered the same thing myself,” he said.
“You heard me?”
“Clear as a bell.” He gestured to the truck. “I walk away and you don’t stop me. We were together three years, Adrian. I loved you.”
“Love–you dumped me!!”
“We were still kids. It was unavoidable at the time.”
“Don’t blame our past on me! You could’ve stood up to your old man!”
“I made a mistake–big mistake. I’m sorry.”
“You’re not sorry!”
Why was I arguing? I mean what was going on in my brain! Here he apologized and I shot my mouth off. I wanted him to do me not yell about insignificant shit that didn’t matter any more.
“Why are you arguing with me?” Tim asked.
“You’re reading my mind now!”
“This is stupid–real stupid.”
He sighed, and turned for the door to leave. At least, that’s what I assumed he would do. Instead, I found myself pinned to his body and his mouth nuzzling mine. He groped my ass and we somewhat waltzed around, to avoid bumping into the furniture. I felt the lust and my body lost control. I couldn’t wait to get naked and I couldn’t wait to feel him.
“I don’t care if you want me here or not!” he growled and forced me into the kitchen by shoving my chest. “We’re going to make up. And then, I’m moving in.”
We were both out of breath and the kitchen table got stuck between us.
“Really now…” I scoffed with coldness, and wiped the taste of his mouth from mine. “You’re pretty confident I give a shit. What if I’ve got a partner?”
“You don’t have a partner!” Tim’s laughter made me shiver. “If you did, you wouldn’t have let me back in. You want me, Adrian…” he unsnapped his belt buckle, pushing the table out of the way, “just as much as I want you.”
Tim didn’t lie, my knees hung over his forearms and he fucked me right there on the kitchen table. The sex was rough, a good rough. The second round we made love and Tim stayed the night, in fact, he never left. True to his word, we made up and he moved in. For every excuse I gave, he had sensible justification. All my protesting failed–weeks of it, not one word changed his mind. In the end, he said he loved me, promised never to leave if I granted him one more chance. Best decision I ever made, even when his old man attempted to interfere again, Tim kept his word. Which brings me back to today, the carwash and the bottle of champagne. Today is our anniversary, six years, a milestone for us. I bought the champagne to celebrate, also for courage. There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell Tim.
My body wouldn’t hold back any longer and I let go with a husky groan. The desk moved a good two inches, scraped the floor. Sweating, I collapsed on his damp back, got my arms around him and kissed his cheek. “I love you.”
Tim glanced at me. His eyes harboured disbelief.
“You’ve never said that before…”
“Maybe I should start.” I kissed him again to reinforce my sentiments.
“Are you feeling okay?” He stared, apprehensive.
“Never felt better.”
“You love me?”
“Ever since that biology project. Can you handle that?”
It took him a moment.
“Yeah,”he whispered with a teary smile. “I can handle that.”

Blak Rayne
‘Taking erotic to a sinful new level…’
Copyright © Blak Rayne 2011

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.

Saturday, August 27, 2011


Greetings peeps. Welcome to another post from the wicked gal, BLMorticia.

Today, I’m posting about the music I use as inspiration while writing. What does that usually entail? Well it could be anything from something simple like some light jazz or contemporary to something heavy like Devildriver or some old fashioned Metallica.

A lot of writers complain they must have complete silence, that the music distracts them when they try and create. Well, I’m different. I need the music especially if the scene is highly emotional or tense filled.

If it’s a light hearted scene with a bit of comedy? Maybe something upbeat or a dance tune that gets me thinking some happy thoughts or if it’s overly romantic with hot sex, like the first scene between Nathan and Bryant in My Lieutenant, it was some slow, “baby making,” tunes like Sade or the Love Jones Soundtracks, which all of us muses listen to frequently.

However, since I am the wicked muse, I mostly turn on the heavy metal to write by. During You Don’t Ask, We Don’t Tell, a lot of the moments with Cody as he tried to deal with the fact he was gay were tense and needed that rockin’ soundtrack to get him thinking of angst. For that, I turned on the iTunes satellite radio and left it on the Dark Metal station.

Perfect music for the angsty piece! Old Metallica, Lamb of God, Pantera, old Sevendust, Slater, etc to get Cody in the mindset of anger over his father, his situation where he left behind his lover, and dealing with his own mistake of joining the army when he didn’t have to.

*raises the hands and flashes the horns*

Throughout I felt the agony from my character and all because of the music I had in my ears.

Look for You Don’t Ask to come out in 2012 from Rebel Ink Press and as always, for more on me and my alt muse Rawiya please visit The Two Faces of Erotica.

Thanks to Blak for having us as always. Please leave me your thoughts. What music gets you going?

Music is the inspiration to life, I think. I love film scores, especially 'The Sherlock Holmes' soundtrack. Hans Zimmer's musical creations inspired the action sequences for my Benevolence series. It was great to have you as always, hun. Thank you for the article. Aug 29 I'll be posting the second part to 'The Jock' and my last guest of the month, author, Adrianna Kraft will be @ BRB on Aug 31! Thanks so much sweeties! Have an awesome weekend. 
Happy Yaoi Hunting!
Blak Rayne ^_^!!

Thursday, August 25, 2011


Hello sweeties! Yes, I know, it's painful to think, but summer is almost over. No more strolls on the beach. No more prancing around wildly in your bare feet. No more picking fruit. Fall is nearing and then it'll be winter... Okay shoot me now. LOL Anyway, to bring you up to speed, here is what's happening. The authors of RLJ (Red Lipstick Journals), which includes myself put together a compendium of really short stories to celebrate the summer. And now that August is almost at an end, it's my turn to post my written contribution to this fabulous anthology. Today I've posted the first part of 'THE JOCK' and August 29 I'll be posting the second and final part of 'THE JOCK'. I'm also posting this hot free read @ RLJ. If you'd like to OWN A FREE COPY of this anthology, just read and follow the instructions at the end of this post! Enjoy!

The Jock
Part One
By: Blak Rayne

A small group of scantily clad women, jumped up and down at the corner of the intersection. They yelled and wiggled their signs to attract the attention of passing motorists. Their signs read Car Wash 4 Charity in chunky, red letters. I drove around the block, debating whether I should have them scrub my car down or just head home. No doubt, the Cougar needed it, six months of filth from the winter and spring caked the black paint. I circled the block once more then turned into the lot. The whole place buzzed with activity–hoses, water, bodies and vehicles, definite organized bedlam.
I drove into a parking spot and cranked the air conditioning to high. The car wash brought back some fond memories from my youth and, a summer I’ll never forget. I realized my sexual preference early on, in childhood. When I hit puberty, my attraction to guys matured as my body did. I wanted a boyfriend, I wanted sex and my first real interest, Tim McKellen. Tim and I went to high school together, the jock and the nerd. Initially, I met him in our grade eight-gym class and suspected he flew the same flag–at least I hoped he did. It took me a year to build up the nerve, and then in a grade nine-science class I finally made my move. The teacher asked everyone to pair up for a biology project and I made certain to sit beside Tim. I couldn’t allow anyone else a chance to worm his or her way in, screw that. I’d waited so long for an opportunity.
A friendship developed during the biology project and over time, that friendship grew into more. Three years later, and we were thick as thieves, inseparable. No one had a clue Tim was gay. But I’m pretty sure our fellow classmates suspected something, especially when he invited me to accompany him to our graduation ceremony and prom. An attractive, single guy like Tim didn’t take a buddy to grad. Tim was six foot two, blue-eyed with deep auburn hair and a tanned complexion, which I later discovered came from his part native background.
We graduated, myself with honours, and Tim, with a sports scholarship. We talked, ate and drank until the evening dwindled away then with my hand in his, we snuck out behind the school auditorium. Tim dragged me to a secluded spot, past a cluster of trees masked by the shadow of the moonlight.
“You planned this…” Utterly dazed, I closed my eyes with a moan. My slacks and underwear were down around my ankles, his hand felt damn good.
“Yeah, so, what if I did.”
Tim got in tight to my body, forced me to the wall and continued to fondle my balls and burning erection. Our cocks stood at attention; pressed together between our tremulous bodies, he tugged and played. I didn’t care, I wanted him and I’d take any piece I could get.
“I read this magazine about gay love,” Tim whispered, kissing my chin. “I want us to do it.”
In the three years I’d known him, we’d touched, but not like this. We were into one another, I just never realized how much until that night. I admit the sex wasn’t perfect, never is when you’re a virgin. You fumble along, utilizing the instinct as a guide. The penetration was painful. We were both anxious with the excitement and Tim’s cock probed like a misdirected missile, but the second round went better. We used the truck as an alternative, which provided a bit more comfort and privacy. My slacks hung off the tailgate, my socks were discarded on the ground and my legs, straight up in the air. Tim held my calves to his mouth with a kiss then he spread my thighs apart. Once our lips were infused, his hips drove me to a whole new level of enjoyment. I’d masturbated and used my fingers, but this was different. This was sex with a partner. Tim’s cock inside me was extremely hard, incredibly pleasurable and very real.
School finished and we spent that summer together. Tim and I worked, went to the movies, the beach, and basically hung out. We also engaged in a considerable amount of experimentation in an attempt to build a more serious relationship. Unfortunately, by the end of September we split up, forced to separate because of ignorance and shame. Tim’s father caught us in the pick-up one night, at the edge of the property going at it doggie style. There was no way in hell he’d accept that his attractive, macho son was homosexual. Tim was torn and scared, and me, well, devastated would be the correct word for my emotional state. I cried and busted up my room, even contemplated suicide during a very weak moment. I felt more for Tim than just the lust. In those three years together, I fell for the jock. Even though we were young he’d become my lover and best friend.
There were other men after Tim, what I refer to as the good, the bad and just plain nasty. I drifted through a promiscuous phase, tried the fuck-buddy thing. When I reached thirty, I wanted a relationship that involved commitment, and cohabited with several. Nothing ever panned out. Most of the men were only into it for the safe sex or my money.
Damn, I miss Tim.

* * * *

A set of knuckles tapped the driver side window. The noise startled me. I pushed the button and the window slid down. This man, scented of the summer heat and soap, crouched low with a hand on the door. His hand was rough, his shirt damp and we stared at one another. What a fine specimen.
“Do you want your car washed or not?” he asked.
“Sure.” I notched my sunglasses down and looked directly into his blue eyes. “Where do you want me to park it?” A flirtatious smile curled my lips even though I tried to hide it.
He quietly laughed to himself, wiping the perspiration from his brow. “The group to your left is waiting. It’s on a donation basis. All the money goes to the local drugs and addiction youth program.” He patted the car door and stood up. “If you need anything, I’ll be around back.”
Yeah, I need something, a cold drink and this gorgeous man naked, begging me to love him. Unbelievable, I couldn’t take my eyes off the guy. I drove the car ahead, parked, got out with a brown paper bag in hand and closed the door. The heat waves rolled across the asphalt; at ninety degrees in the shade, the day was a scorcher. Sudsy water sprayed my car and I wandered to the rear of the lot, beyond the bays, making certain no one noticed. There was an office at the back of the brick building. The metal door to the office wedged open with a rock. The guy had a cell to his ear. Soon as he saw me, he made up an excuse, said goodbye and hung up.
“Hey…” I approached him. “What would be a fair donation?”
“Ten bucks.” He paused. “–you were gone a lot longer than two days, Adrian!”
The gruff accusation meant nothing.
“The meeting ran an extra day.”
“You could’ve phoned at least.” Tim yanked me close by my shirt with a subtle grin. “You had me worried, baby.”
“There’s no need to worry, I’m here.” I produced the bottle of champagne to him as a peace offering. “And besides, it’s our anniversary and I’d never miss our anniversary.”
“You’re always thoughtful.” Tim locked an arm at my lower back, kissed me then walked us past the metal door into the office. “I don’t deserve it–I don’t deserve you.” He kicked the rock and the door slammed shut.
The office felt several degrees cooler than the outside.
We Frenched, and I cracked open the champagne. It foamed and we laughed, each taking a swig. All right, so drinking-out-of-the-bottle, not that romantic, but who said anything about romance. Romance was meant for the bedroom and the last time I checked we weren’t anywhere near the house. And, no sexual contact for three days, we were both pumped for action.

Blak Rayne
‘Taking erotic to a sinful new level…’
Copyright © Blak Rayne 2011

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.

Our sincere thanks for following Red Lipstick Journals.
As a token of our appreciation we'd love to send you a FREE copy of our SUMMER SIZZLER anthology.
If you're not following us yet, no worries. Simply click on the follow button to the right through the end of August to get your free copy.
For those of you who have been faithful followers or are following us now, please e-mail me to get your copy (ketadiablo@yahoo.com).
PLEASE PUT SUMMER SIZZLER IN THE SUBJECT LINE so you don't get lost in my spam folder. And please sign with the name you used to follow RLJ so we know who you are.
Again, thank you, and we hope you'll continue to follow our blog. As of September 1st, the Summer Sizzler anthology will be sold on Kindle and Nook. Have a great sizzling summer!

Wednesday, August 24, 2011


Today's author is Jane Toombs and what a fascinating lady she is. Not only does she possess the knowledge and a very long life time of experience, she's almost fulfilled a personal goal - to publish 100 books. Yes you read correctly, sweeties! So please welcome to BRB author, Jane Toombs.

Tell us about yourself, Jane.
I’m a mother, a grandmother, a great-grandmother and have been a wife twice, a divorcee once and a widow once. Now I’m the Viking’s Life Partner. I’m also a retired registered nurse, and an author.  I have five children, two stepchildren, five grandchildren and two great grandchildren. I also am owned by Kinko, who is a calico cat.

When did you know you wanted to become a writer?
I believe I always thought I was.  Because when I wanted to a child and wanted to use my father’s big old L.C. Smith typewriter, he told me he’d teach me how, but if he did, then I had to write him a story. So at seven, I wrote my first story about how he found and brought me my first cat.  He told me it was good and after I’d beamed at him awhile, then gently suggested ways I could make it better.  I gladly listened to my first reviewer and critiquer, and made the changes.

Who and/or what prompted you to write your first novel?
After I became a registered nurse, I wound up marrying a doctor and we had five children.  Once most of them were in school, I began to write in my free time, mostly short stories. That I never sent anywhere. Then I won a writing contest for nurses and the prize was an all expenses paid trip to Breadloaf in Vermont.  At the time I didn’t know at the time that this was probably the most prestigious writing course in the country.  I should have realized that my husband didn’t like the idea when he insisted we all go.  But I did get there, with my family in a motel in the nearest town.  One of the perks was to have your story critiqued by and one on one session with a published author of some note.  I had Seymour Epstein. The first words out of his mouth were, “What are you doing here when you should be home writing?” I stared at him, finally managing to ask, “Why?”  He told me that, based on my story, I didn’t need writing workshops, that I was good enough on my own and if I kept on writing I’d learn all I needed to know.  At that point I realized writing was what I really wanted to do with my life.

Where and/or how do you find the greatest inspiration?
Sometimes I feel as though my mind is a busy airport, with ideas circling like planes waiting to land.  The ideas are always there and some of them do land.  I don’t know if that’s inspiring, but it’s the way I feel out it when an ideas for a story comes rolling in. 

What made you chose to write romantic literature in particular? And is there any other genre you’d like to write? And if so, why?
I was only 17 and a half when I went into nursing.  I was raised in an innocent age and had never heard any slang terms for body parts.  So what I did learn was all the correct anatomical terms for parts of the    body.   And that’s what they forever will be to me.  I can’t bring myself to use slang terms for them. Which, of course makes erotica impossible for me to write. Somehow the correct terms just don’t work in that genre. But I do write sensual scenes, some so hot my editors have called them erotic. 

Which appears first when contemplating a new project: A character, the plot and/or the title?
I have to have a working title or I can’t get started, though I may change it along the way. Of course when I wrote for Harlequin, they regularly changed my titles. The plot and characters then come along together .  

What’s the hardest part of a novel for you to write: Beginning, middle and/or end? Why?
Always the middle.  Because in middles authors have to be careful not to let the tension drop too low, this losing the reader. 

Has your own life influenced your novels? And if so, how?
Certainly the fact I was a nurse predisposed me to write some medical suspense romances in the past. But medicine advances so fast, that now; if I include a medical scene I have to be careful to be up to date. Also I believe the author’s own life predisposes him or her to depict certain personality quirks in characters.  Also I’m an optimist, which I’m sure must. The fact I’ve lived all over the U.S. also has helped with settings.      

Writing sex/romantic scenes can be a challenge for some authors. Do you find it difficult? If yes, how do you compensate? If no, where do you draw your inspiration?
My second husband was also a writer and we both began by selling gothic suspense romances back in the day when such books had no consummated sex. When sexy historicals came along, he had no problem whatsoever. The historical part was no problem for me, but when I showed him my first attempt at a sex scene--well…  He was a somewhat dour man who didn’t smile often and very rarely laughed out loud. He howled with laughter at my flowery sex scene, finally recovering enough to say, “You need to work on this.” He was certainly right. But once I finally did get it right, I was okay. But it took hard work and time.    

Do you have a method you use to write the sensual parts? Do you prefer the sex to be open and bold? Or left to the imagination?
I was okay with leaving it to the imagination, but over time learned to get hotter and more open. My plots, though, are never heavily laden with one sexual encounter after another, probably because that’s not what I like to read. I like plot and to me sex is not THE plot, but only a part of it.

Are your characters based on people you know? Or are they completely fictitious?
I have a sneaking feeling all authors subconsciously base characters on people they’ve known in their lives--but only partially based on a real person.  Except for famous characters who really lived, whom I always research, I don’t consciously base any of mine on people.  But the subconscious is sneaky.  

Who is your favorite character, which you’ve created? And why?
The leading character of my Moonrunner Trilogy is one I’ll never forget.  I begin the first book with him waking naked on a beach in California during Gold Rush days. He doesn’t know where he is and worse--who he is.  But most dangerous of all he doesn’t know what he is. Having him go through discover after discovery as he struggles to survive somehow made me very close to him. 

Can you tell us about your latest release? Give a synopsis.
As it happens, it’s my first attempt at a young adult paranormal suspense romance.--The Turquoise Dragon from Devine Destinies Brief synopsis: On the dragon planet Cozz,  Blues and Greens have their own territory and never mate.  A blue having mated with her choice of blue male is flying back to her lair when a green male intrudes into Blue territory and forces a mating.  She can only hope all her eggs will be blue, because, if not, she’ll become an outcast. Two are, one is turquoise. She noticed an alien collection machine near her lair. These have been on her planet before and one blew up when a dragon tampered with it. So now they leave them alone.  To avoid killing her unborn progeny, she deposits the turquoise egg into the machine. Now she’s safe, (I’ve established that dragon eggs are hard and will go into hibernation for a time if not kept warm.) Fast-forward to Earth as the damaged robot veers off course and crashes.  An eleven -year-old far girl find the turquoise egg on a patch of moss and brings it home.  She knows how eggs hatch, so keeps it warm with a sun lamp. It does hatch.  Turk, as she names the baby dragon can mind talk so they can communicate.

What’s your newest WIP? And when we can expect a publication date?
Watcher At The Door, the second book in my Dangerous Darkness Series from Red Rose Publishing, has just been released. I am currently working on #3 Terror From Before Which I believe will be out sometime this fall. All of these are paranormal suspense romances.

How many novels do you have, that are currently published? 
If you include my backlist of NY books and count both novels and novellas (because most of my new releases are eBook novellas) I’m edging up on ninety published books.

Where do you see your writing career in the next five to ten years?
Well, I’m 84 years old, so I don’t see it as lasting more that five more years. By then I hope to have 100 books published. In the past I wrote gothic and long historical romances for many different NY pubs, plus romances for H/S but now I’m doing mostly eBook novellas, particularly paranormal or fantasy ones, because that’s what I like to read.

Thanks so much for doing this interview, Jane. It was great to have you. I wish you all the best of success for the future!
Happy Yaoi Hunting
Blak Rayne ^_^!!

Monday, August 22, 2011


The Erogenous Zone
By Alexandra Christian

I find that, as a writer, I often get hung up on the descriptions of my characters.  I know, I know… that old adage about leaving something to the readers’ imaginations, but part of what I love about being a writer is that I can create worlds and people and another’s mind’s eye.  It’s a little bit like playing God—without having global disasters. That being said, I’m often visualizing parts of the body and examining them to the fullest.  I’ve become very acquainted, over the course of my writing career, with which parts of the anatomy turn me on the most.  And you might be surprised—they aren’t what you think.

Exhibit A:  Mouths.  I have always had a hang-up about mouths.  I either love them or hate them.  The lips, the shape of the jaw, the teeth, the way someone holds their mouth as they speak—I am a keen observer of everything.  Call it an oral fixation, but a man with full lips, imperfect teeth or a strange curl of the lip can keep me mesmerized.  And I love to watch a man smoke.  If you’ve ever read my fiction, you’ll probably notice that many of my characters either smoke or I mention their mouth in great detail. 

Exhibit B:  Necks.  More specifically, the slope along the back of a man’s neck, from the edge of their hairline to their shoulder.  The skin there is so soft and smooth with tiny little hairs that stand up when they’re at the peak of arousal.  Its often tanned, even on the palest of skin, and little beads of sweat gather there just waiting for my tongue to swipe it away.  And put a tattoo there—whew… I just can’t stand it.

Exhibit C:  The V of Doom.  This is a term I coined many years ago.  The “V of Doom” is that line formed by the pelvic bone.  It crosses over the hips and points downward towards the naughty bits, drawing your eyes to the main event.  Women have them, but they are usually hidden by the fleshy hips.  In fact, if you can see them on a woman, she’s probably too thin. But men don’t have that extra padding and therefore the “V” stands out in sharp relief.  Its almost like a frame for the navel, belly and cock.  And just seeing it makes my mouth water. 

So there you have it—those images that tickle my erogenous zones.  I know that women are supposed to be more about feelings and sounds, but I am, by nature, a more visual person.  Images really get my motor running and therefore, when I write I use a LOT of images.  To illustrate my point, I’ve added a little taste of “Second Skin,” my newest release from Sugar and Spice Press. Our hero, Jack Leannan, is a sexy and mysterious older man.  I defy anyone to read this description and not be hooked…


    Jack Leannan wasn’t like anyone I had ever met before.  And I think I knew we were going to sleep together from the moment I saw him.  We met briefly at a dinner party and I was instantly fascinated.  He was quite a bit older than I, but it didn’t affect his allure at all.  The silvery strands at his temples only served to highlight the cool blue composure of his eyes.  His body was solid, a telltale sign of one who took care of himself, but not overdone.  He had a quiet grace that gave him an air of mystery and dominance.  His accented voice was low with just a tinge of gravel that had me drooling with his first hello.  We stood around in the same circle of strangers, exchanging shallow niceties and bored expressions.  He didn’t say a lot, merely commented when spoken to.  I noticed him laugh quietly to himself at inopportune times and it endeared him to me, though I was afraid to engage him in conversation. 
               I didn’t notice when everyone else had left the circle and I still stood there, holding my glass of wine and staring at Jack.  It was as if the entire world had disappeared around us and I couldn’t care less.  “Miss Spencer?  Are you alright?”  He spoke to me and I started.  I hadn’t realized that he even knew my name. 
               “Catherine.  Please call me Catherine,” I said, somewhat robotically as I pushed the words from my lips.
               He smirked, one eyebrow quirking.  “Are you sure we know each other well enough for that?”
               “I’ll risk it,” I replied. 
               “As long as we’ve set the ground rules.”  With another smile he offered his hand and we shook politely.  I tried to let go, but he held on tight and then pulled, leading me to a couch nearby.  “I hate parties,” he said casually as he motioned for me to sit.  “Standing around talking to strangers was never my forte.”
               “You seem to be doing well so far,” I replied, taking a seat.
              “If you’ll notice, the only person I’ve actually spoken to is you.”  He sat down sideways on the cushion beside mine, turning towards me in a comfortable fashion. 


So there you have it, everything you need to get up from this blog, go attack your man and lick each and every one of his erogenous zones…


Oh yummy! Erogenous zones, aren't they awesome! Loved your post Alexandra. Thank you for stopping by. Have a great day.
Happy Yaoi Hunting
Blak Rayne^_^!!

Friday, August 19, 2011

Cats and Dogs - (10)

Everyone needs a dog to adore him, not a cat to ignore him.

Trouble, oh we got trouble… Okay so I’m not singing the rest of that, I’m not one of those dogs that do horrible renditions of songs to amuse humans. But we are in trouble. Someone’s pounding on the front door.

Rail’s swearing as he tries to decide on fight or flight. Me, I’m all for fighting cause I can tell by the smell it’s Bart. A very angry Bart. Rail realizes it’s him too when the dork starts calling his name and telling him to open the door or else.

So, like a fool Rail does. I gotta give Bart the dork kudos. The minute the door’s open he pulls back his fist and lands one square on Rail’s chin and down Rail goes. Who’d have thought the human had it in him to do that. Of course now I have to do my part and defend Rail. I race over, growling at Bart, fangs bared.

“Go ahead, try it dog. I’ll…I’ll…” Bart stands his ground, fists clenched.

“Bosley, back off,” Rail orders, rubbing his jaw as he sits up.

So, still growling I stop right by Rail’s shoulder, glaring up at Bart.  

“Do you mind telling me what that was all about?” Rail asks as he gets to his feet.

“Like you don’t know you…you…cat burglar you.”

“Hey now, I didn’t steal your cat. He just showed up in the alley,” Rails blusters.

“Yeah, my alley, after you broke into my house and stole everything you could lay your hands on.”

“Not everything, I left you your computer. That thing’s so old your probably still running Windows 3.1.”

Way to go, stupid. Open mouth, disengage brain. There goes my four squares a day.

“Windows ME actually and it works just fine.”

“Maybe it’s time for an upgrade, not that that thing you call a computer could handle it.”

“Yeah, well if I had you’d have just stolen that along with everything else.”

Rail nods, rubbing his jaw. “But I didn’t because… Damn it.”

Rail turns his back on Bart, heading for the kitchen and I trot along behind him to make sure he gets there without the dork’s trying to throw another punch. Which might be what he’s planning since he’s coming after us quickly. I stop and growl and I swear to you he gives me the finger before grabbing Rail’s arm.

“Don’t walk away from me you…you rat.”

“Rat?” Rail tries to grin and winces instead. Opening the fridge he takes a bag of peas from the freezer. “Ice pack,” he says when Bart looks at him questioningly.

So there the three of us are, standing in the kitchen glaring at each other.

“Does it hurt,” Bart asks, as Rail puts the frozen package against his jaw.

Duh. Is this human for real? He punches my master hard enough to knock him off his feet and he wants to know if it hurts.

“Yeah,” Rail replies with a slight smile. “Who knew you could hit so hard.”

Bart chews on his lip. “Not me. That’s the first time I ever hit anyone in my life.” He looks down at his hand and flinches as he tries to bend it into a fist. “I think I broke something.”

“Here, let me see.” Still holding the peas to his jaw Rail takes Bart’s fist, laying it on the counter. Then he feels each of Bart’s fingers.

Oh boy, this isn’t looking so good. Or maybe it is. They’re doing that eye thing again. Aw what the hell. I go lay down on the floor by my food bowls which are looking awfully empty right now. I paw one, tipping it over noisily. Neither of them notices.

“Nothing broken,” Rail says, not taking his eyes off Bart’s face.

“What about..?” Bart touches Rail’s jaw where the bag of peas isn’t covering it.

Rail shrugs. “I’ll live. For a beginner you pack a hell of a punch.”

“Well I was pissed.”

“I don’t blame you,” Rail replies honestly. “I’d have been too if it had been me.”

“So what now?”

If the looks they’re giving each other are any indication I could tell them what now. What they almost started but didn’t at Bart’s house. I put a paw on my bowl and bang it on the floor again, hard so it makes a lot of noise.

“Damn, Bosley, you’re not going to starve to death,” Rail grumbles but he turns away from looking at Bart to get out a can of dog food, open it and dump it in a bowl. “Here, eat hearty and stay quiet.”

Eat, you bet. Stay quiet. Not so sure yet. I mean any second now the dork, Bart that is, could decide to call the cops on us. Then I’d have to take him down before he could. I wonder how long it would take me to dig a hole in the backyard large enough to bury him.

Looks like Rail’s wondering that too, well not about burying Bart’s body but about his calling the cops.

“So now what?” Rail says, returning to the previous conversation. “I guess that’s up to you. You can call the cops. I won’t try and stop you.”

Bart looks at him in surprise. “You won’t?”

Shrugging his shoulders Rail says, “Would it do any good if I did? Short of killing you there’s no way to keep you from doing it sometime, either now or later. So we might as well get it over with if that’s what you’re going to do.”

Coming September 10th from Silver Publishing 


Two men:
Glenn Tanner, a thirty-four year old hitman who wants to disappear and start a new life.
Joey Fairburn, a twenty-one year old Criminal Justice student studying to become a cop.

One problem in common:
Joey's father, an escaped killer, is on his way to the small town where Joey and his mother live, and where Glenn has finally settled down. Only time will tell if Glenn and Joey, so disparate in both age and backgrounds, will be able to find a common bond to unite them in an attempt to stop the killer from murdering Joey's mother, and in the process perhaps find love.

Thanks for the wonderful post as always, Edward. Each part of 'Cats and Dogs' is a treat! I've also posted at Edwards - you know, the swapping blogs! Edward's Blog On August 22 Alexandra Cristian will be here! Have a great weekend sweeties!

Happy Yaoi Hunting!
Blak Rayne ^-^!!