Wednesday, 7 April 2010

Throw in the word playboy in any Erotica, I'm officially turned off

It's not that they scare me nor does the publication (some of the interviews are actually alright, I mean compare them to those in FHM UK and you have people who know how to ask varied questions), but whenever I read the "hottest" or "most eligible bachelor", there's really no other way to describe it but I'm turned off. What turns me off is the fact that women are interested in these heroes and I'm glad they're cropping up less and less in Erotica than in Mills and Boon which was just filled with men who made women stopped talking as soon as they walked through the door and had these golden tans and bodies of animals behind their pristine Italian suits and white that really what women want? It's not what all women want, then. I am quite alarmed, yes alarmed I tell you, alarmed,!, that whenever a European looking guy walks in a room some women do shut up and become something and someone else, and especially when they're being "charming" I just find that sleazy. But that's not to say I like lilly white little men abd boys with yellow teeth who wear hoodies and sniff after any tanned HAIR girl, boy have I got that description down right. I suppose I just always like to read a hero who says the sexiest things to a heroine, one full of personality and not charm or "suave," not quite the odd ball Woody Allen but someone who it's immediately clear you'd be able to have a really good conversation with them and they're not neurotic or bitter of women and life. Maybe that's why I'm put off by Hugh Jackman or George Clooney..but give me an interview with them, THAT to me is their selling point, it's that which makes them sexy to me not their looks. I just like personality to be there straight off because when I read for example about a women "with average height, average weight, average looks, average everything," I want to read about her with a man whose going to give her as good as she deserves internally and not the fact he's going to give her the beautiful kids or whatever or he's like some dark haired Fabio cliche. Sure, I can look beyond the cliche but why must that cliche even exist?

Anyway, yesterday I was reading Ariel's Pet by Qwilla Rain. Whilst to me, it wasn't quite The One (as in another erotica book, not the meaning or love of life) what I loved about it was the fact the hero's patience, determination and human-ness showed (you can read his thoughts but then his actions are different and with intent) and he was what I want in my Erotica, a strong man and meant for a strong woman. See, before Erotica strong women were resigned to bitch roles but since then we have the concept of a woman being human. I think I may have blogged about "real women" before. And by that term I mean it as a strong woman and by that I mean a woman who doesn't conform to society, to men, to the media and to other women but she's also got different dimensions to her personality and they come out, we don't just see a persona.

I'll leave you with an excerpt from Ariel's Pet and a blurb (of which Dane's description of Ariel annoys me but so do selling tactics),

Availabe from Loose ID. Ariel's Pet by Qwilla Rain,

"Ariel Valerian knew cooking techniques and recipes, but a Dominant like Dane Reese had her more hot and bothered than a dozen hours slaving in a steamy kitchen. And 'slaving' is just what she intends to teach her blond-haired, blue-eyed, oh so yummy surfer boy. He might be helping at the family café as a favor to her sister, but there was no way she was giving him an opportunity to play Dom with her.

For Dane Reese, Ariel Valerian is a full-figured pixie -- a life-size, blue-haired Tinkerbell in a chef's coat surrounded by the scent of chocolate and cinnamon and an aura of mind-blowing, sweaty sex. Too bad she's driving him insane with her determination to order him around. As a Dominant and half-owner of A Master's Gift, Dane has seen his share of Dommes and submissives, and, no matter how she might deny it, Ariel is destined to call him Master.

Two powerful personalities; a contest to determine who is more adept at control; and less than thirty days to discover if Ariel will bow to Dane's commands, or if Dane will become Ariel's Pet.

Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language, and situations that some readers may find objectionable: Anal play, BDSM theme and content, voyeurism"

"If he weren't aware of why Ariel continued to play her little game of “I'm the boss,” Dane would have taken her over his knee a few more times since he'd started to work at the café. It didn't help that Jordan had taken up the slack for both Logan's work and now some of Dane's. “He's definitely earned some time off,” Dane muttered as he parked in front of Valerian's Root and climbed out of his car. “In the last week the man has gone from assistant to full-time jack-of-all-work. It's a damned good thing we can count on him.”
Dane wasn't worried Jordan would suddenly abscond with their clients' money or confidential information; both Logan and he had attended high school with Jordan's parents. In fact, Samuel Bishop was the first man to request Logan's aid in discovering the strength in a D/s relationship.

“I'm more concerned Logan'll have to bail me out for assault,” Dane griped as he unlocked the café's front door and crossed to the alarm. The warning ring failed to go off. Twisting the lock closed, he wondered if Ariel simply had forgotten to set the alarm the night before. Despite his irritation, he realized he should have stayed—whether Ariel wanted him there or not; it was his responsibility to see she made it home okay. Ayerstown might seem like a sleepy suburb when compared to some of the larger cities like Plaxton and Richland an hour's drive away, but it still experienced crime. And no man would leave his woman—or any woman—unprotected to walk home in the evening.

If he disregarded the tough facade Ariel projected, she was still nearly a foot shorter than him and could easily be overpowered. “Don't jump to insane conclusions all because she forgot to set the alarm,” Dane argued in a whisper. “Considering the steam rolling off of her when I left last night, I wouldn't be surprised if she forgot to lock the doors.”
Which didn't bode well for the leather jacket he'd left behind in his haste the evening before. The car coat was one of his favorites, and he'd been over halfway home when he remembered it was draped over the back of the sofa in Alayna's office.

“I wouldn't put it past her to stuff the pockets with some of the contents of the composting bin.” An organic farm that supplied a great deal of Ariel's fresh fruits and vegetables used
chemical-free compost for fertilization and offered discounts to companies that provided food waste materials. Ariel was nothing if not efficient in collecting leftover raw and cooked foods to send to the farm.

Retribution would be required if Ariel had stooped to such a petty revenge. Dane grinned as he visualized the punishment he'd mete out. Clamps for her plump little nipples, leather cuffs for her ankles and wrists, and a long, sweaty session on the St. Andrew's cross in Room Seven at the mansion. One lash for every pithy word she'd uttered in the last four days since he had spanked her. His jeans pulled tight over his growing erection at the thought of how pink and warm her ass would be when he finished with the flogger.
With his mind bounding between what vicious revenge she might take out on his coat and how badly he'd like to teach her to enjoy surrendering to him, it took a moment for the sounds coming from the office to register. Once they did, Dane paused in the hall. Were he in the mansion, where it was possible to run across random sexual encounters, the noises filtering out into the hall would have made sense. But the throaty moans and the creak of leather against leather baffled Dane.

He closed his eyes and visualized the office as he'd left it the day before.
The desk took up the majority of the space. It faced the door and butted up against the wall on the right with the battered chair tucked under it and two four-drawer filing cabinets in the corner. A narrow table was snug against the filing cabinets and held the requisite all-in-one copier/fax/printer, postage machine, and a coffeepot. Built-in bookshelves covered the rest of the back wall, while a beat-up leather sofa and solid oak coffee and end tables occupied what remained of the floor space. A ladder-back chair faced the desk and a flat-screen television was mounted on the wall to the left of the door. Other than the possibility of someone watching adult movies, Dane couldn't believe what he was hearing.
If Logan had slipped in on Alayna in the office, Dane could imagine a little hot-and-heavy petting going on, but Dane had seen them at the estate a half an hour ago, sound asleep in Logan's bedroom—Alayna in the bed and Logan in a chair nearby. Hell, the sun had barely crested the horizon when he'd pulled his car into a parking space along the street in front of the café.

He kept his footsteps quiet on the hallway's tiled floor, reached the open door, and looked in. Ariel occupied the sofa, with his leather jacket wrapped around her. One hand caressed her body, while the other rocked against her sex. Squeezing his eyes shut, he smothered the surprised curse that tried to escape his lips. He so didn't need this on top of all the shit he had to deal with at home, but he opened his eyes, wanting to look again.
God, she looked good. He had wondered if the ivory skin of her face covered her entire body. Now he knew it did. It was arousing to see how smooth it was, especially in contrast to the black of his coat, the only clothing covering her as she sprawled across the cushions of the sofa. The wet slide and low hum of a vibrator competed with her raspy breaths. The length of his coat hid the juncture of her thighs, but the soft, full mounds of her breasts were visible. One tiny hand—the nails short, but neatly trimmed and clean—palpated a pink-tipped globe before she gripped the taut peak and tugged on it.

“Yes, oh yes, Dane. There, please.”

His erection throbbed in response to the sound of her throaty voice calling his name, and satisfaction spread through his chest. Both his hands gripped the door frame until his knuckles showed white, but he forced himself to watch her. The commands and soft pleas for release that whispered through the room could barely be heard as she rocked the vibrator in and out of her wet cunt. Fast, then slow—she didn't seem to know which rhythm worked best. Her hips arched, and her head pressed deep into the cushion, but he could tell climax eluded her.
Your clit, he wanted to tell her. Forget the fucking nipple and play with your clit, Ariel. But she couldn't hear his thoughts, and he wasn't about to shatter the scene by speaking aloud. Frustration throbbed through her voice. Dane wondered if the ancient piece of furniture would withstand the press of her bare feet against its arm. She must have spent an extended period of time trying to reach climax, because her body glistened with sweat. Her thighs were coated with her juices, which had probably stained the lining of his coat, but her body fought her efforts. Finally, with her limbs shaking with exhaustion and not climax, she stiffened, then dropped onto the cushions and was still.

“Damn it, damn it, damn it.” Her voice was a scratchy croak; her disappointment was evident as she pulled the vibrator from her body, switched it off, and then let it slip to the floor. She curled onto her side, facing the back of the sofa, pulled her knees to her chest, and tugged the coat tighter around her. “Shit. Fucking useless.”

Dane eased his hold on the doorway. His gaze stayed locked on Ariel's body as her muttered curses dwindled to soft snores.

Maybe Alayna wasn't the only Valerian who required assistance. Despite her rigid refusal to bend, Ariel had the capacity for explosive sexual power. He had read the intensity in her every motion. In the same way he recognized the submissive in her older sister, Dane knew Ariel carried a depth of passion as yet untapped. Whether as a submissive or a dominatrix, he was still unsure, but he was intrigued about finding a way to unleash that part of her.
Careful to make no noise, Dane moved to stand over the sofa, looking down at her sweat-dampened face, her cheeks still flushed with arousal. A tiny shiver trembled through her, and she curled even more tightly toward the back of the sofa. From the other end of the couch, he pulled a soft blanket and cautiously eased it over her, taking care not to wake her.

The toe of his sneaker bumped something as he started to turn away. Crouching, he grinned at the blue vibrator he picked up. A paper bag, an open package of batteries, and a small bottle of lube rested near the corner of the sofa. He left the other items on the table, carried the toy into the bathroom, and quietly cleaned it before tucking it into his jacket pocket. After returning to the office, he watched Ariel cuddle the edge of the blanket beneath her chin.

It wouldn't work to isolate Ariel at the estate for a month. The food she created reflected her passion, her intensity; every emotion affected Ariel at the moment of culinary conception. Attempts to get her to channel that focus into arousing her body would be a challenge. Once out of the office, he made his way down the hall and then set the alarm against intruders. With the locks on the café's doors secured, he headed for his car. Dane's mind spun with ideas—images of Ariel's body arched beneath him, her wet pussy snug around his cock, her bright green eyes dazed and slumberous with satisfaction as he pulled climax after climax from her body.

“Taming her?” he wondered aloud, then shook his head. “Training, not taming—that's what she needs,” Dane determined. He pulled away from the curb and headed for one of the fast-food restaurants around the block. A plan was in order. He smiled. “A very special plan. Something to get her hackles up and make her lose her temper enough to agree before she realizes what she's done.

He wouldn't return to Valerian's Root today. It was necessary that he take time to plot, but tomorrow… “Oh yes, tomorrow.” His smile grew wider as he patted the toy weighing down his pocket."

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