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Tuesday, January 7, 2014

An Ecstatic Rendezvous-David Russell #contemporary #romance #love #writing


Welcome to BRB, David, it's great to have you back! :) And, welcome, everyone. David is a Devine Destinies author of contemporary romance with a new novel to share. Anyway, let's get the interview started. 

What genre do your currently write? Literary erotica and speculative fiction.

And, is there a genre you'd like to write, but haven't tried yet? Sci-fi, and/or an epistolary novel.

Many authors use a nom de plume, and they may use one opposite to their own sex. My romances/literary erotica have a mainly female readership, many of whom are romance/erotica writers. But I feel it would be dishonest to hide under a female pseudonym. I do genuinely desire to understand the feminine psyche. One or two readers have felt that it was wrong of me to approach this area, rather more have approved of it.

Do you think an author's sex or sexual orientation should dictate what genre they write? Definitely not. Any writer should be true to his/her own creative impulse, whether or not this causes any aesthetic hiccups. For instance, there now seem to be many women writers doing M/M romances, and they are not necessarily Lesbian/

Some authors have issues with character development, writer's block, plot summary etc. What is the biggest challenge you face when writing? How do you overcome the problem? I find it a struggle to portray my characters as real, flawed human beings. Writer's block is frequent; but during periods of blockage there are always mechanical routines (proofing etc) which can sustain momentum.

What has been the single most successful marketing tool you've used to date? I have not been very successful with marketing; I approach all the romance review sites that I can.

What are you currently reading? A book of poems called Beyond by Sarah Wardle, pub Bloodaxe Books.

How do you measure success? According to intelligent, sympathetic reader response: look at the reviews of my novella Self's Blossom in Good Reads. Definitely not in terms of money. Some people I have got to know on the net manage to make money; good luck to them

Just for fun–

What is your favourite drink? I am torn between non-alcoholic ginger beer and grapefruit juice.

Are you a cat or dog person? Definitely a cat person; I like their inscrutable independence.

Love or lust? Honest, reciprocated lust. I do value the loving virtues of kindness and loyalty, but have no illusions about conjugal cohabitation.

If you could spend the day with any famous author, who would it be? And, why? It would be Ben Okri, because of the power of his imagination, and his fusion of the novel with poetry and mythology

If you could indulge free of any consequences, what would be your ultimate sexual fantasy? A tryst with a lovely celebrity - any of the Hollywoods - Audrey Hepburn, Lana Turner, Bollywood Kareena Kapoor, Jennifer Lopez, Liz Hurley


An Ecstatic Rendezvous

Blurb:

In An Ecstatic Rendezvous, our nameless male is described as a narcissist from the start with a perfect gym body to match. He is so into himself that he dresses up in 50s style swimwear and poses in front of a mirror. He even strips his clothing off as he watches himself in the mirror. But eventually he tires of the solo performance and searches for a woman on his level, and meets Sandra.

Our protagonist is serious about role playing. Before meeting up with Sandra, he lets her in on his 50s era fantasy and even coordinate outfits over the phone, right down to the ironed linen underwear. When they do meet, they role play like it is a real beach party scene from a 50s movie, complete with a couple’s beauty contest.

Russell was not kidding when he said the protagonist was a narcissist. I found humor in the lengths he makes to play out his fantasy, both alone and with Sandra. Excellently written – this was very much an ecstatic rendezvous, and a short story worth reading!

Excerpt:

Her aura, spiced by her exquisite scent, so full and strong, was really driving me wild, my breath heating, my juices simmering. The whole scenario was quite overwhelming. The moment for the grand ceremony had come. I took her by the hand and lifted her to stand facing me. “We’ll have a romantic undress,” I said.

“The prelude for our symphony,” she said.

“As an impassioned Mozartian—and I assume you are, too—I just love well-orchestrated sonatas of love! I’ve been yearning for someone with your finesse, dreaming about it for ages!”

I had chosen non-laced shoes to avoid any possibility of fumbling, my jacket and socks were no trouble, and I placed all the garments aside of the main action area to be. Then, Sandra skilfully thumbed my buttons and peeled off my shirt and vest, feeling the muscles of my torso and my arms as she did so. I stood before her, proud in my tight black bikini briefs.

Her face lit up. “Oh, darling, you’ve got such a wonderful physique, I’m so proud of my catch!”

“I’ll do the same for you, so for the next stage of revelation, let me take your blouse off first.”

It was off-the-shoulder, flimsily, casually and alluringly worn. The motion of my quivering thumbs echoed the firmness. The three pearl buttons undid with ease to make a gracious parting. Then, my hands went under its top, and eased it off to reveal her glorious firm sun-tanned shoulders and her willowy back.

“Okay, part two. Now, I’ll undo your skirt.” I peeled the zip along very slowly with my left, feeling her hips as I did and edged it down, with my hands smoothing her bottom and then squeezing her firm thighs. Sandra gave a knowing smile and a giggle.

“Is that nice?” This was the next delicious stage of revelation, to see the full shape of her legs. I love elastic-topped stockings—so much more alluring without suspenders. I touched their tops and felt her firm flesh beneath them. Her thighs and calves had an absolute sensual iridescence.

“Now, off with them, darling. I want to see your lovely legs as they really are.” The stockings looked so delicate, I didn’t want to risk laddering them. Sandra had to do that with her faultless firm but delicate hands. Supremely at ease with her aura, she lowered them with tender, loving care. Now, with matching caresses, we felt each other’s thighs and calves.

“It’s great that we’ve kept up our fitness routines in anticipation of the big day,” she said. “You don’t drink beer either, do you? I really appreciate that.”

Her silky white briefs gleamed with promise— their own special luminosity—it felt a ballerina’s pirouetting, but frozen motionless.

As the tactile sensations built up, my breath was heavy with suspense, laden with the weight of long-repressed desire, at last so blissfully released.

“Now, darling, remember all your favourite scenes on film and video. You’re going to re-enact all your star idols’ peak moments when you desperately ached to be there in the middle of the action. Now, we’re going to be our own celebrities and super-directors, bringing all those lovely visions beaming into real life. This scene is going to make the perfect fusion of the boudoir and the beach. We’re going to enter the deep embrace of the ocean of love. Our fantasy beach, our fantasy sea, is beckoning us. Let’s put on our bathing costumes now. I’m a turn-on in briefs, and you are in that gorgeous underwear, so let’s go on to the next pieces of costumery.” 
 
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