Now let me say that again. I want it all. Let me explain. I want it all.
To go after what is in my heart is my all. And I am inspired by a great book trailer. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wSRMMMWefuY
I have words in my mind, like "I'm asking you to be my Dom." I have overcoming preconcieved notions in my mind. I have been well and truly inspired. I am getting closer and closer to what I want and I intend to put that in a story.
I am inspired also by the movie director Jane Campion. And Kathryn Bigelow's work ethic and spirit make me enthusiastic when I thought I could not be.
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/03/14/movies/14dargis.html I don't want to win an Oscar, I want to be insanely happy. I want to make my mark and say no woman should be limited and every woman can create something that will make her mark on the world. Jane Campion, I feel says that in her movies; don't underestimate me. I want it all, as a woman, as a human living and breathing on this planet, these sides of me interact and co exist and as a soul, I won't give up.
Something inside has clicked.
Saturday, 13 March 2010
Thursday, 11 March 2010
So why the heck am I even talking about other things
When I found this seriously molten excerpt on Lissa Matthews blog. Ive probably blown all the copyright laws so seriously I'll take this down..but I had to share. Have you ever had an excerpt make you cry? I just have.
http://lissamatthews.blogspot.com An excerpt from Sweet Caroline.
“I’d have never guessed you’d be interested in clamps.”
“Oh!”
Caroline, the object of his affection, his lust, his raging out of control hunger jumped, startled, and dropped the items in question on the ground. She bent to pick them up and when she stood straight again, she looked at him, not avoiding his eyes as he’d expected since that’s what she usually did. In this place though, the small hole in the wall adult toy store and lingerie shop, she seemed different, more sure and certain of herself. It was odd to him because most women he knew or had known, wouldn’t ever admit to being in place like this, much less admit to liking any of the store’s contents.
“There are a lot of things I’m interested in that I’m sure you wouldn’t have guessed at.”
Buck’s dick did just that. Bucked. Of all things he thought she might say, that was definitely not it, but now since that it was out there… “Really? Then by all means, Caroline, enlighten me. Show me what you’re interested in.”
For a second he thought she would decline and walk out, but she tilted her head slightly and regarded him. A blush stole through her cheeks, but she kept her head held high and nodded.
“These. I’m interested in these.”
She handed him the clamps. They looked like miniature clothespins, but he imagined they’d hurt like a bitch.
They were heavy for being so small. “What else?”
She looked down and pulled another package from the rack. “These.”
Japanese clover clamps. His favorite. Not always the favorite of others. He used them on some of his more adventurous lovers. Loved the look of them hanging from a pair of breasts, the chain being its own instrument of torture when tugged and pulled. Caroline said she was interested in them, but had she tried them? Did she know what kind of pain and pleasure she was looking at? The clamps looked harmless enough sitting in their plastic bubble packs, but taken out, put on naked, tender nipples and they became anything but harmless.
“Have you used these before? Either of these?”
The blush deepened, and that damned little tongue of hers came out to swipe at her lips.
“Yes. A long time ago. My… Derek used them on me. Before everything went south with us, we used to play with toys a lot. He liked clamps.”
Derek was her ex-husband. Divorced for four months or so, he knew Derek had gotten remarried this past Christmas to the younger than should be legal for a fifty year old man to marry girl he’d left Caroline for. Buck couldn’t begin to know how Caroline had felt or what had been going through the other man’s mind to leave her, but Derek’s dumbassness and loss was Buck’s gain. He wasn’t about to squander the gift fate had dumped in his path at the Lowe’s Home Improvement store.
“And you?”
She looked him straight in the eye, something she rarely did with him. He liked it and hoped she would do it more often. “I grew to love them and now find that I miss them.”
Holy… He held on tight to both sets of clamps. “What else?”
Caroline looked around and walked over to the back wall. Floggers, whips, and crops hung on hooks at various heights. She took her time looking from one end of the wall to the other, from floor to ceiling. As he watched her take them all in, he noticed the blush was gone.
“These, but none of these. These are toys, novelties, play things. Derek knew a guy thatwho made them, and he taught me to appreciate the handmade craftsmanship, the sting that came with something being made to specifics. He spent a lot of money on toys and instruments, but always felt it was well worth it.”
Buck nodded. He used to make his own floggers and had tried his hand at making a crop, but that wasn’t his forte. Hie knew some guys that made amazing crops and some of the most beautiful whips.
He hadn’t made anything in a long time. Hadn’t had anyone to make anything for but maybe Caroline… “In general, which of these instruments do you like?”
“In general, the crop.”
How in the hell he was going to form any further thoughts, words and sentences? She was flaying him open at every turn. Outside she was this pretty but plain woman he’d never imagined would have a river of molten lava running through her veins. “Anything else?”
She turned and walked up to the counter, standing on the opposite side from the clerk. Inside the glass case were glass dildos. Behind her, Buck hung his head and closed his eyes. He was hard before, but now with clamps and crops he was in jaw clenching pain. But there was more. There was Caroline, looking at glass cocks that would be, could be, should fucking be used inside her.
“I like these. No, that’s wrong. I love these.” She pointed to a red and purple swirled one that was about the same length and width as him at his hardest. He swallowed and it was hard to do past thatthe lump in his throat. “This is my favorite. I don’t know why, but… It’s the most realistic looking, and it’s how I imagine passion to be if it were in color.”
He had no idea what to say. Pretty much knew that words wouldn’t come out. Instead of even trying, he placed his hand on the curve of her waist where it flared out to her hip. He squeezed lightly, and she leaned back into his body. It wasn’t what he’d been expecting, but hell, nothing about her was what he’d been expecting, not from the first moment he’d met her and definitely not today. He knew she could feel his erection. There was no hiding it. No denying that he was harder than a hammer. She didn’t rub her ass against him. Didn’t press into his dick for which he was very thankful.
Then, oh fuck, then she pointed to a butt plug, and he had to count backward from a million or he was going to come in his jeans. It was a brilliant sapphire blue glass with three graduated balls that looked to be at one-inch intervals.
“I miss having a plug inside me sometimes.”
Her voice was soft, but he heard her and again, instead of being able to speak, he simply squeezed her hip.
“You want to look at one? I’ll open the case for you. You’d be surprised at how smooth they are, and if you hold them for a bit in your hand, the glass warms. My customers that buy them, rarely ever go back to the silicone ones unless they’re looking for vibrators.”
Buck looked up at the clerk whose gaze was trained on Caroline’s face. She shook her head and murmured a “no thank you” then slipped away, leaving him staring after her. She was looking through the lingerie now. The woman was going to give him a damn heart attack there in the adult store.
“I like corsets, but, not these. I like the handmade specifically for me ones ones that are handmade, specifically for me. I don’t usually buy lingerie in stores, only online lately for things other than the corsets and bustiers.” She looked and gave him a small smile that just tilted up the corners of her lips. “Do you want to see what else I like?”
He couldn’t handle seeing anything else, he really couldn’t. “Yes.”
She kissed him. With thather pretty smiling mouth, she kissed him. Over the rack of corsets she didn’t like because they weren’t made just for the curves of her body, she touched her soft lips to his and kissed him."
If I could be a quarter as good as this, I'd be happy. I also think I'm going to re read this every night.
http://samhainpublishing.com/coming/sweet-caroline Yup. The date. *sighs and ruffles hair*!
http://lissamatthews.blogspot.com An excerpt from Sweet Caroline.
“I’d have never guessed you’d be interested in clamps.”
“Oh!”
Caroline, the object of his affection, his lust, his raging out of control hunger jumped, startled, and dropped the items in question on the ground. She bent to pick them up and when she stood straight again, she looked at him, not avoiding his eyes as he’d expected since that’s what she usually did. In this place though, the small hole in the wall adult toy store and lingerie shop, she seemed different, more sure and certain of herself. It was odd to him because most women he knew or had known, wouldn’t ever admit to being in place like this, much less admit to liking any of the store’s contents.
“There are a lot of things I’m interested in that I’m sure you wouldn’t have guessed at.”
Buck’s dick did just that. Bucked. Of all things he thought she might say, that was definitely not it, but now since that it was out there… “Really? Then by all means, Caroline, enlighten me. Show me what you’re interested in.”
For a second he thought she would decline and walk out, but she tilted her head slightly and regarded him. A blush stole through her cheeks, but she kept her head held high and nodded.
“These. I’m interested in these.”
She handed him the clamps. They looked like miniature clothespins, but he imagined they’d hurt like a bitch.
They were heavy for being so small. “What else?”
She looked down and pulled another package from the rack. “These.”
Japanese clover clamps. His favorite. Not always the favorite of others. He used them on some of his more adventurous lovers. Loved the look of them hanging from a pair of breasts, the chain being its own instrument of torture when tugged and pulled. Caroline said she was interested in them, but had she tried them? Did she know what kind of pain and pleasure she was looking at? The clamps looked harmless enough sitting in their plastic bubble packs, but taken out, put on naked, tender nipples and they became anything but harmless.
“Have you used these before? Either of these?”
The blush deepened, and that damned little tongue of hers came out to swipe at her lips.
“Yes. A long time ago. My… Derek used them on me. Before everything went south with us, we used to play with toys a lot. He liked clamps.”
Derek was her ex-husband. Divorced for four months or so, he knew Derek had gotten remarried this past Christmas to the younger than should be legal for a fifty year old man to marry girl he’d left Caroline for. Buck couldn’t begin to know how Caroline had felt or what had been going through the other man’s mind to leave her, but Derek’s dumbassness and loss was Buck’s gain. He wasn’t about to squander the gift fate had dumped in his path at the Lowe’s Home Improvement store.
“And you?”
She looked him straight in the eye, something she rarely did with him. He liked it and hoped she would do it more often. “I grew to love them and now find that I miss them.”
Holy… He held on tight to both sets of clamps. “What else?”
Caroline looked around and walked over to the back wall. Floggers, whips, and crops hung on hooks at various heights. She took her time looking from one end of the wall to the other, from floor to ceiling. As he watched her take them all in, he noticed the blush was gone.
“These, but none of these. These are toys, novelties, play things. Derek knew a guy thatwho made them, and he taught me to appreciate the handmade craftsmanship, the sting that came with something being made to specifics. He spent a lot of money on toys and instruments, but always felt it was well worth it.”
Buck nodded. He used to make his own floggers and had tried his hand at making a crop, but that wasn’t his forte. Hie knew some guys that made amazing crops and some of the most beautiful whips.
He hadn’t made anything in a long time. Hadn’t had anyone to make anything for but maybe Caroline… “In general, which of these instruments do you like?”
“In general, the crop.”
How in the hell he was going to form any further thoughts, words and sentences? She was flaying him open at every turn. Outside she was this pretty but plain woman he’d never imagined would have a river of molten lava running through her veins. “Anything else?”
She turned and walked up to the counter, standing on the opposite side from the clerk. Inside the glass case were glass dildos. Behind her, Buck hung his head and closed his eyes. He was hard before, but now with clamps and crops he was in jaw clenching pain. But there was more. There was Caroline, looking at glass cocks that would be, could be, should fucking be used inside her.
“I like these. No, that’s wrong. I love these.” She pointed to a red and purple swirled one that was about the same length and width as him at his hardest. He swallowed and it was hard to do past thatthe lump in his throat. “This is my favorite. I don’t know why, but… It’s the most realistic looking, and it’s how I imagine passion to be if it were in color.”
He had no idea what to say. Pretty much knew that words wouldn’t come out. Instead of even trying, he placed his hand on the curve of her waist where it flared out to her hip. He squeezed lightly, and she leaned back into his body. It wasn’t what he’d been expecting, but hell, nothing about her was what he’d been expecting, not from the first moment he’d met her and definitely not today. He knew she could feel his erection. There was no hiding it. No denying that he was harder than a hammer. She didn’t rub her ass against him. Didn’t press into his dick for which he was very thankful.
Then, oh fuck, then she pointed to a butt plug, and he had to count backward from a million or he was going to come in his jeans. It was a brilliant sapphire blue glass with three graduated balls that looked to be at one-inch intervals.
“I miss having a plug inside me sometimes.”
Her voice was soft, but he heard her and again, instead of being able to speak, he simply squeezed her hip.
“You want to look at one? I’ll open the case for you. You’d be surprised at how smooth they are, and if you hold them for a bit in your hand, the glass warms. My customers that buy them, rarely ever go back to the silicone ones unless they’re looking for vibrators.”
Buck looked up at the clerk whose gaze was trained on Caroline’s face. She shook her head and murmured a “no thank you” then slipped away, leaving him staring after her. She was looking through the lingerie now. The woman was going to give him a damn heart attack there in the adult store.
“I like corsets, but, not these. I like the handmade specifically for me ones ones that are handmade, specifically for me. I don’t usually buy lingerie in stores, only online lately for things other than the corsets and bustiers.” She looked and gave him a small smile that just tilted up the corners of her lips. “Do you want to see what else I like?”
He couldn’t handle seeing anything else, he really couldn’t. “Yes.”
She kissed him. With thather pretty smiling mouth, she kissed him. Over the rack of corsets she didn’t like because they weren’t made just for the curves of her body, she touched her soft lips to his and kissed him."
If I could be a quarter as good as this, I'd be happy. I also think I'm going to re read this every night.
http://samhainpublishing.com/coming/sweet-caroline Yup. The date. *sighs and ruffles hair*!
Rude Awakening.
Well I read it.
Samhain definitely is all about the story. It was an erotic book. The emphasis being on the heroine getting herself back after losing her husband and discovering her sexuality. The hero works for the FBI..oh HOT..and he was different to how I imagined. Because throw in FBI and I have a very specific image in my mind..So he's this Native American, pierced nipple hunk. She describes him as an Apache warrior with his movement and grace and strength. One bit in particular when he runs towards her, I loved. (Running is good, running is good..)The book definitely promised some great breast play but there wasn't much detail on that which I won't say is disappointing as I can use my imagination and don't need it spelled out to me..and of course she's just discovering her sexuality and they're playin with the carmel and back door loving (ass sex to be blunt) so there'll be plenty of time for titty fucking and making her come just from having her nipples sucked..as the heroine says.
What disappointed me slightly was the slap and tickle. In that Lucas the hero spanks Jaimee (beautiful name and I LOVE that he calls her James as a nickname) but he doesn't use his belt..he says he's not a sadist. Oh well *sigh* I guess I just like it for the erotica to go through the roof. BUT one of the great things about this book is the journey I was on with the heroine. She asks herself, is she the kind of girl that likes her ass spanked? So, there's a lot of discovery here. And as a hero, he is very impressive, giving and patient but sexy and with character. He definetely wasn't a vehicle for her or anything like that.
Now Jamiee had blue eyes and they were of course wide and expressive. Because you can't have a description of eyes without including wide and expressive. (HELL you can not!) So whilst the book did not fullfill my seedy, selfish need, it did make me glad I bought a story about a woman getting her confidence back and getting to know herself sexually. It's so sad when the author writes about Jaimee with her former husband. What kind of husband was he. What kind of marriage was this.
Samhain definitely is all about the story. It was an erotic book. The emphasis being on the heroine getting herself back after losing her husband and discovering her sexuality. The hero works for the FBI..oh HOT..and he was different to how I imagined. Because throw in FBI and I have a very specific image in my mind..So he's this Native American, pierced nipple hunk. She describes him as an Apache warrior with his movement and grace and strength. One bit in particular when he runs towards her, I loved. (Running is good, running is good..)The book definitely promised some great breast play but there wasn't much detail on that which I won't say is disappointing as I can use my imagination and don't need it spelled out to me..and of course she's just discovering her sexuality and they're playin with the carmel and back door loving (ass sex to be blunt) so there'll be plenty of time for titty fucking and making her come just from having her nipples sucked..as the heroine says.
What disappointed me slightly was the slap and tickle. In that Lucas the hero spanks Jaimee (beautiful name and I LOVE that he calls her James as a nickname) but he doesn't use his belt..he says he's not a sadist. Oh well *sigh* I guess I just like it for the erotica to go through the roof. BUT one of the great things about this book is the journey I was on with the heroine. She asks herself, is she the kind of girl that likes her ass spanked? So, there's a lot of discovery here. And as a hero, he is very impressive, giving and patient but sexy and with character. He definetely wasn't a vehicle for her or anything like that.
Now Jamiee had blue eyes and they were of course wide and expressive. Because you can't have a description of eyes without including wide and expressive. (HELL you can not!) So whilst the book did not fullfill my seedy, selfish need, it did make me glad I bought a story about a woman getting her confidence back and getting to know herself sexually. It's so sad when the author writes about Jaimee with her former husband. What kind of husband was he. What kind of marriage was this.
So I happened to switch the internet on and this image seemed to have made its way to me
Would you look at that? http://lissamatthews.blogspot.com/2010/03/wicked-wednesday-cover-squee.html
Okay so I know if you're a man reading this, you want to throw something out the window. Yourself? Don't, you're way more important than a bare chest. BUT you know why this picture excited me so..firstly it's because its on the book to be released by one of my favourite authors. Lissa Matthews. I'm not being sweet or silly, this is all true. The woman writes hot, erotic, life affirming romance and erotica. Both, she does both all in one SO WELL. And that picture excites me because her men are so strong internally. That strength shows..well obviously I hear you say..in that picture. But it gives me a taste of what to expect from this book. There are some book cover magicians out there, I tell you, they can tap into what a story is and will be. Kudos and kudos to the author too.
And then on Samhain publishing, a great Erotica and for romance stories, I found this gem. http://samhainpublishing.com/romance/rude-awakening It's already out in ebook; what was I doing? Solving the earth crisis, adopting an orphan, I better have been doing something worthwhile to HAVE FREAKING MISSED THIS!!
The heroine is SO on par with what I want in my heroines. Curious, questioning, has this energy and very human. The man..he got me with the FBI thing (you know I'm a sucker for fictional cops since Tr.something...Day) but hmm I'm going have to see more than beefcake in this story. Oh I'm sure I will. These authors, they're the best. I'll report back.
"Rude Awakening
His training didn’t cover how to win back a woman’s trust…
Jaimee Turner spent most of her life trying to be an unassuming pillar of virtue and submissive wife to a man who demanded nothing of her—especially physically. A year after his unexpected death, she’s finally finding her own footing, only to find herself thrown completely off balance by Lucas, a man who awakens desires she never knew she had.
FBI agent Lucas Grayson is relentless in his quest to bring down those who prey on the innocent. The Turner case is unlike anything he’s dealt with before, and so is the widow Turner. One thing’s for sure: Brent Turner was blind to think he could outsmart the Collective. And blind to the fact Jaimee was a gift he threw away.
The Collective has dirty fingers in all sorts of bad pies, and the FBI suspects Brent’s “accident” was anything but. Jaimee knows more than she thinks she does. Lucas would sell his soul to extract that information and keep her safe. But he can’t save her from the devastating betrayal she’ll have to face.
Warning: Some mild violence, a very sarcastic best friend, sneaky massages, inappropriate use of caramel and some occasional back door lovin’."
(Oh God Caremel!! I'm wearing a tight poloneck which makes emphasises my waist and makes my hips look full..can he please lick the caremel off me? I can be her!!)
“Okay, go ahead and get it out of your system so I can go back to my workout.” She tried for cool anger as she scowled up at him, hoping he didn’t notice the thread of pain in her voice. Damn, he was pretty. In spite of her fury and mortification, her fingers itched to reach out and touch him.
“Whoa! Calm down.” His voice was so deep and dark. It rumbled through her and gave her goose bumps.
“Calm down?” Her eyes narrowed.
He frowned back at her. “Look, your technique is excellent. I just came over here to ask who was training you and…”
The indignity made her grit her teeth in frustration. “No, you look. I don’t have a trainer. I don’t want a trainer. I just want to work out without some moosehead coming over to tell the fat girl what she’s doing wrong.”
There went that slow smile again. He arched a brow, folded his big sinewy arms over his bare chest and silently stared down at her—with condescension, no doubt.
“What is it with you guys anyway? You big muscle-bound oafs think you’re all God’s gift to women.” She couldn’t seem to stop herself as she pointed up at him now, barely resisting the urge to poke him in his well-defined, rock-hard, pierced-nippled chest. “You think every woman, especially us full-figured ladies, are just praying you’ll come give us a pathetic second of your precious time to instruct us on how we can be more appealing to you. Well let me tell you something, mister. I didn’t ask for your attention, nor do I want it. You don’t buy my club membership, my meals, or anything else for that matter, so I don’t see how my workout choices or the size of my ass are any of your damn business.”
He just stood there with that arrogant smile on his face, watching her, as if she were an amusing puppy.
“Why are you just standing there smiling at me like that? Why don’t you scurry back to your rat hole and leave me alone?”
“I’m smiling because I find it humorous that you’re all hot and bothered over your preconceived notions that I think a certain way about you based on your outward appearance. When all the while you’ve judged and sentenced me on the basis of my own.”
She stared at him for a moment and bit her lip. She had gotten carried away and it irritated her that he was right, and worse, he knew she knew he was right. She could see it in his rich brown gaze that was once again traveling over her body. Much to her surprise he reached out and gripped the bottom of her baggy sweatshirt and yanked it over her head in one smooth move. There she stood, with her mouth hanging open, in her sweaty purple leotard that clung to her body. Her full breasts were flattened to her chest and spilling over the low neckline, her hard nipples obvious against the damp cotton/spandex material, baggy sweatpants rolled down over her wide hips, revealing her pooch stomach and her round hips. Heat crawled up her neck and she balled her hands into fists, then quickly crossed her arms over her breasts.
“Much better.” His murmur was almost a moan. His smile spread into a toothy grin then he winked at her, turned and walked away with her shirt and disappeared into the men’s locker room.
Nearly everyone had paused or stopped what they were doing to watch. The two Barbie-like blondes on the stepping machines whispered to each other and giggled. Her first instinct was to hightail it out of there but she refused to give in to it. There was no way in hell she was going to let that man, the Barbies or anyone else screw with her newfound confidence or her workout. With steely determination she took a deep breath, lifted her chin and went back to working on her upper thighs.
An hour later she was pulling on her jeans and baggy blue Tigger T-shirt. She blow-dried her hair and pulled the unruly mass up into a banana clip. Guilt pricked her at the way she let the stud have it. He had certainly put her in her place, which for some reason she found thrilling. That wasn’t setting well with her either, and she just wanted to forget about it.
The whole weekend stretched out ahead of her and she had a lot to get accomplished before it was over. Lesson plans, however, would wait until Sunday night. Tonight she wanted to get home, have dinner and crawl into bed with a good book. Which in a way was sad, considering it was only five something on a Friday night. Times like this were when she really missed Brent, even though were he still alive they would probably just watch a movie on TV. She missed the companionship, the comfort of having someone else in the house. Tennis shoes tied, sweaty workout clothes stuffed in the duffle, she headed out of the locker room with a heavy sigh.
The beat of the workout music thumped through the building and the gym was crowded. Thankfully, she was on her way out. Lana, the bouncy aerobics instructor smiled and waved as she walked by the wide window and Jaimee waved back. Her smile was still in place as she pushed open the glass door and walked out into the warm night.
“Nice smile.” There he was, the stud, propped up against a column, exuding virility like he was posing for a centerfold. He’d changed into light blue jeans that hugged his narrow hips and clung to the healthy bulge behind the fly as if he were poured into them. The jewel tone blue shirt worked beautifully with his bronze skin, especially with the sleeves rolled up and the two top buttons left open to reveal his throat. He was hot, and that voice of his had a way of reaching out and touching her in all her private areas.
“Where’s my shirt?” she asked quietly, not quite achieving the coolness she was going for as her smile faded from her lips.
“I tossed it in the trash.” He pushed away from the column and stepped toward her.
“Unbelievable. You owe me a shirt.” She stared at him in disbelief. “You had no right to do that.” She turned to walk away, then paused and spun around to face him again. “Why did you do that?” Her voice was a bit higher than she had intended it to be but she’d never been so angry.
His brows arched and he leveled her with his piercing gaze. “You were hiding.”
For a moment she just stared at him with her mouth open, incredulous at the man’s audacity. She couldn’t believe her ears. The unmitigated gall!
He took a cautious step toward her. “The sweatshirt was unnecessary. Your face was beet red, you were too hot.” His lips curved slightly as he placed one long finger against her chin, closed her mouth, then let it fall away. “And, you were hiding,” he repeated softly.
Oh man, that one insignificant touch left her quivering inside. More would probably kill her. What a way to die. Argh! What was she thinking? Focus, Jaimee, she admonished herself.
“So what if I was, and that’s a big ‘what if’, it’s none of your business. I don’t know you.” In order to gather some degree of calm, she took another deep breath. “What did you get out of embarrassing me?”
He stilled, frowning, his brows pulled together over dark eyes. “Embarrassing you wasn’t my intention. I…”
“What if I wasn’t wearing anything under it?”
For a moment he looked as though he was questioning himself and his actions. “You were wearing something under it.”
“But what if I wasn’t?”
“You were.”
With a disgusted sigh she shook her head and spun away from him, eager to get to her car.
“Wait.” One very tan, very large hand reached out and snagged her wrist, forcing her to halt in her retreat. His fingers circling her wrist were warm and strong, but gentle, as he turned her to face him. His touch was charged with sexual energy. Her entire body reacted and she struggled not to step closer. Instead, she stiffened and focused on his arrogance. “I’m sorry I embarrassed you.” He let her go before she could jerk away.
She raised her eyes to meet his gaze but kept her scowl firmly in place.
“I’ll replace the shirt.” He looked sincere as he offered his hand. “Let me start over. I’m Lucas.”
After a long pause, she took it. He had such sexy hands; very warm, long strong fingers. Images of what wondrous delights those hands could be capable of producing flashed through her mind—and body—again.
She cleared her throat. “Jaimee.”
He held her hand firmly as she tried to pull away. His palm was warm against hers and his fingers just calloused enough to elicit more imaginative ideas. Her gaze traveled down, pausing to watch the intriguing way his throat worked as he swallowed before gaping at the span of skin exposed by the V of his open collar. The flush to her cheeks was rapid and mortifyingly obvious.
Jaimee licked her lips as she looked up at him. The mischievous smile that curved his mouth and the sparkle in his dark eyes told her just how obvious she’d been.
“Actually I believe I’ve seen you before, up the street from me. I just moved here from California. I bought a house in Wood Crest, 512 Meridian.” He reluctantly freed her hand. Damn, his voice was so deep, and it seemed rougher than before.
He was right; hers was only a few houses up from him, in 507. How did she miss seeing him? Did he take a step closer? He certainly seemed closer. “Oh, well, welcome to the neighborhood.”
“Have you had dinner?” he asked slowly, watching her mouth. Had she licked her lips again?
Okay what was he up to? Men like him didn’t ask out women like her. It simply wasn’t done. “Why?”
Without question, those gorgeous eyes of his darkened even more. One brow lifted and his smile turned just a tad wolfish. “Well, I’m hungry, and from the looks of it, you are too.”
“Excuse me?” She narrowed her eyes in disapproval. He chuckled and his eyes took on a predatory gleam that sent hot shivers dancing up and down her body. It was hard not to wiggle and shake them off.
“Have dinner with me.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
If he expected her to just go all fluttery because he showed her attention he was sorely mistaken. Okay, so she was all fluttery, and overheated and dammit…wet and tingly. But she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.
“Are you married or dating someone? I didn’t see a ring but I guess that doesn’t necessarily mean anything anymore. I should have asked earlier.”
“Widowed,” she interrupted.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” And it was. Maybe it shouldn’t be, but it was.
He tilted his head and watched her. “But you won’t have dinner with me?”
“No.”
“May I ask why not?”
She met his gaze and wondered at the flames that seemed to flicker in his eyes. Intrigued? Maybe. Tempted? Definitely. Still, she didn’t know him or trust him and didn’t understand at all why he seemed to be attracted to her. It only added to her frustration that her traitorous body was vibrating with lust from merely looking at him and briefly holding his hand.
“No, you may not,” she answered with as much cool indifference as she could muster. She quickly whirled around and walked away before she gave in to her ridiculous little fantasies and hurled herself at him. Though it was very, very difficult, she didn’t look back, and oh did she want to. She could practically feel his gaze on her butt. Oh God. Was he looking at her butt? She cringed at the slick, sensual rub of the swollen flesh nestled between her thighs, sensations spiraling through her with each purposeful step away from him.
No, she couldn’t have dinner with him, and she couldn’t tell him the reason why was that she didn’t trust herself. As she reached her car she gave in and glanced back at him. He hadn’t moved. He was still standing there, smiling as he watched her walk away. Despite her resolve to remain coolly detached, she returned his smile. Before she could change her mind she got into the car and headed home, wondering if she would see him again."
Okay so I know if you're a man reading this, you want to throw something out the window. Yourself? Don't, you're way more important than a bare chest. BUT you know why this picture excited me so..firstly it's because its on the book to be released by one of my favourite authors. Lissa Matthews. I'm not being sweet or silly, this is all true. The woman writes hot, erotic, life affirming romance and erotica. Both, she does both all in one SO WELL. And that picture excites me because her men are so strong internally. That strength shows..well obviously I hear you say..in that picture. But it gives me a taste of what to expect from this book. There are some book cover magicians out there, I tell you, they can tap into what a story is and will be. Kudos and kudos to the author too.
And then on Samhain publishing, a great Erotica and for romance stories, I found this gem. http://samhainpublishing.com/romance/rude-awakening It's already out in ebook; what was I doing? Solving the earth crisis, adopting an orphan, I better have been doing something worthwhile to HAVE FREAKING MISSED THIS!!
The heroine is SO on par with what I want in my heroines. Curious, questioning, has this energy and very human. The man..he got me with the FBI thing (you know I'm a sucker for fictional cops since Tr.something...Day) but hmm I'm going have to see more than beefcake in this story. Oh I'm sure I will. These authors, they're the best. I'll report back.
"Rude Awakening
His training didn’t cover how to win back a woman’s trust…
Jaimee Turner spent most of her life trying to be an unassuming pillar of virtue and submissive wife to a man who demanded nothing of her—especially physically. A year after his unexpected death, she’s finally finding her own footing, only to find herself thrown completely off balance by Lucas, a man who awakens desires she never knew she had.
FBI agent Lucas Grayson is relentless in his quest to bring down those who prey on the innocent. The Turner case is unlike anything he’s dealt with before, and so is the widow Turner. One thing’s for sure: Brent Turner was blind to think he could outsmart the Collective. And blind to the fact Jaimee was a gift he threw away.
The Collective has dirty fingers in all sorts of bad pies, and the FBI suspects Brent’s “accident” was anything but. Jaimee knows more than she thinks she does. Lucas would sell his soul to extract that information and keep her safe. But he can’t save her from the devastating betrayal she’ll have to face.
Warning: Some mild violence, a very sarcastic best friend, sneaky massages, inappropriate use of caramel and some occasional back door lovin’."
(Oh God Caremel!! I'm wearing a tight poloneck which makes emphasises my waist and makes my hips look full..can he please lick the caremel off me? I can be her!!)
“Okay, go ahead and get it out of your system so I can go back to my workout.” She tried for cool anger as she scowled up at him, hoping he didn’t notice the thread of pain in her voice. Damn, he was pretty. In spite of her fury and mortification, her fingers itched to reach out and touch him.
“Whoa! Calm down.” His voice was so deep and dark. It rumbled through her and gave her goose bumps.
“Calm down?” Her eyes narrowed.
He frowned back at her. “Look, your technique is excellent. I just came over here to ask who was training you and…”
The indignity made her grit her teeth in frustration. “No, you look. I don’t have a trainer. I don’t want a trainer. I just want to work out without some moosehead coming over to tell the fat girl what she’s doing wrong.”
There went that slow smile again. He arched a brow, folded his big sinewy arms over his bare chest and silently stared down at her—with condescension, no doubt.
“What is it with you guys anyway? You big muscle-bound oafs think you’re all God’s gift to women.” She couldn’t seem to stop herself as she pointed up at him now, barely resisting the urge to poke him in his well-defined, rock-hard, pierced-nippled chest. “You think every woman, especially us full-figured ladies, are just praying you’ll come give us a pathetic second of your precious time to instruct us on how we can be more appealing to you. Well let me tell you something, mister. I didn’t ask for your attention, nor do I want it. You don’t buy my club membership, my meals, or anything else for that matter, so I don’t see how my workout choices or the size of my ass are any of your damn business.”
He just stood there with that arrogant smile on his face, watching her, as if she were an amusing puppy.
“Why are you just standing there smiling at me like that? Why don’t you scurry back to your rat hole and leave me alone?”
“I’m smiling because I find it humorous that you’re all hot and bothered over your preconceived notions that I think a certain way about you based on your outward appearance. When all the while you’ve judged and sentenced me on the basis of my own.”
She stared at him for a moment and bit her lip. She had gotten carried away and it irritated her that he was right, and worse, he knew she knew he was right. She could see it in his rich brown gaze that was once again traveling over her body. Much to her surprise he reached out and gripped the bottom of her baggy sweatshirt and yanked it over her head in one smooth move. There she stood, with her mouth hanging open, in her sweaty purple leotard that clung to her body. Her full breasts were flattened to her chest and spilling over the low neckline, her hard nipples obvious against the damp cotton/spandex material, baggy sweatpants rolled down over her wide hips, revealing her pooch stomach and her round hips. Heat crawled up her neck and she balled her hands into fists, then quickly crossed her arms over her breasts.
“Much better.” His murmur was almost a moan. His smile spread into a toothy grin then he winked at her, turned and walked away with her shirt and disappeared into the men’s locker room.
Nearly everyone had paused or stopped what they were doing to watch. The two Barbie-like blondes on the stepping machines whispered to each other and giggled. Her first instinct was to hightail it out of there but she refused to give in to it. There was no way in hell she was going to let that man, the Barbies or anyone else screw with her newfound confidence or her workout. With steely determination she took a deep breath, lifted her chin and went back to working on her upper thighs.
An hour later she was pulling on her jeans and baggy blue Tigger T-shirt. She blow-dried her hair and pulled the unruly mass up into a banana clip. Guilt pricked her at the way she let the stud have it. He had certainly put her in her place, which for some reason she found thrilling. That wasn’t setting well with her either, and she just wanted to forget about it.
The whole weekend stretched out ahead of her and she had a lot to get accomplished before it was over. Lesson plans, however, would wait until Sunday night. Tonight she wanted to get home, have dinner and crawl into bed with a good book. Which in a way was sad, considering it was only five something on a Friday night. Times like this were when she really missed Brent, even though were he still alive they would probably just watch a movie on TV. She missed the companionship, the comfort of having someone else in the house. Tennis shoes tied, sweaty workout clothes stuffed in the duffle, she headed out of the locker room with a heavy sigh.
The beat of the workout music thumped through the building and the gym was crowded. Thankfully, she was on her way out. Lana, the bouncy aerobics instructor smiled and waved as she walked by the wide window and Jaimee waved back. Her smile was still in place as she pushed open the glass door and walked out into the warm night.
“Nice smile.” There he was, the stud, propped up against a column, exuding virility like he was posing for a centerfold. He’d changed into light blue jeans that hugged his narrow hips and clung to the healthy bulge behind the fly as if he were poured into them. The jewel tone blue shirt worked beautifully with his bronze skin, especially with the sleeves rolled up and the two top buttons left open to reveal his throat. He was hot, and that voice of his had a way of reaching out and touching her in all her private areas.
“Where’s my shirt?” she asked quietly, not quite achieving the coolness she was going for as her smile faded from her lips.
“I tossed it in the trash.” He pushed away from the column and stepped toward her.
“Unbelievable. You owe me a shirt.” She stared at him in disbelief. “You had no right to do that.” She turned to walk away, then paused and spun around to face him again. “Why did you do that?” Her voice was a bit higher than she had intended it to be but she’d never been so angry.
His brows arched and he leveled her with his piercing gaze. “You were hiding.”
For a moment she just stared at him with her mouth open, incredulous at the man’s audacity. She couldn’t believe her ears. The unmitigated gall!
He took a cautious step toward her. “The sweatshirt was unnecessary. Your face was beet red, you were too hot.” His lips curved slightly as he placed one long finger against her chin, closed her mouth, then let it fall away. “And, you were hiding,” he repeated softly.
Oh man, that one insignificant touch left her quivering inside. More would probably kill her. What a way to die. Argh! What was she thinking? Focus, Jaimee, she admonished herself.
“So what if I was, and that’s a big ‘what if’, it’s none of your business. I don’t know you.” In order to gather some degree of calm, she took another deep breath. “What did you get out of embarrassing me?”
He stilled, frowning, his brows pulled together over dark eyes. “Embarrassing you wasn’t my intention. I…”
“What if I wasn’t wearing anything under it?”
For a moment he looked as though he was questioning himself and his actions. “You were wearing something under it.”
“But what if I wasn’t?”
“You were.”
With a disgusted sigh she shook her head and spun away from him, eager to get to her car.
“Wait.” One very tan, very large hand reached out and snagged her wrist, forcing her to halt in her retreat. His fingers circling her wrist were warm and strong, but gentle, as he turned her to face him. His touch was charged with sexual energy. Her entire body reacted and she struggled not to step closer. Instead, she stiffened and focused on his arrogance. “I’m sorry I embarrassed you.” He let her go before she could jerk away.
She raised her eyes to meet his gaze but kept her scowl firmly in place.
“I’ll replace the shirt.” He looked sincere as he offered his hand. “Let me start over. I’m Lucas.”
After a long pause, she took it. He had such sexy hands; very warm, long strong fingers. Images of what wondrous delights those hands could be capable of producing flashed through her mind—and body—again.
She cleared her throat. “Jaimee.”
He held her hand firmly as she tried to pull away. His palm was warm against hers and his fingers just calloused enough to elicit more imaginative ideas. Her gaze traveled down, pausing to watch the intriguing way his throat worked as he swallowed before gaping at the span of skin exposed by the V of his open collar. The flush to her cheeks was rapid and mortifyingly obvious.
Jaimee licked her lips as she looked up at him. The mischievous smile that curved his mouth and the sparkle in his dark eyes told her just how obvious she’d been.
“Actually I believe I’ve seen you before, up the street from me. I just moved here from California. I bought a house in Wood Crest, 512 Meridian.” He reluctantly freed her hand. Damn, his voice was so deep, and it seemed rougher than before.
He was right; hers was only a few houses up from him, in 507. How did she miss seeing him? Did he take a step closer? He certainly seemed closer. “Oh, well, welcome to the neighborhood.”
“Have you had dinner?” he asked slowly, watching her mouth. Had she licked her lips again?
Okay what was he up to? Men like him didn’t ask out women like her. It simply wasn’t done. “Why?”
Without question, those gorgeous eyes of his darkened even more. One brow lifted and his smile turned just a tad wolfish. “Well, I’m hungry, and from the looks of it, you are too.”
“Excuse me?” She narrowed her eyes in disapproval. He chuckled and his eyes took on a predatory gleam that sent hot shivers dancing up and down her body. It was hard not to wiggle and shake them off.
“Have dinner with me.”
“No, I don’t think so.”
If he expected her to just go all fluttery because he showed her attention he was sorely mistaken. Okay, so she was all fluttery, and overheated and dammit…wet and tingly. But she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.
“Are you married or dating someone? I didn’t see a ring but I guess that doesn’t necessarily mean anything anymore. I should have asked earlier.”
“Widowed,” she interrupted.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.” And it was. Maybe it shouldn’t be, but it was.
He tilted his head and watched her. “But you won’t have dinner with me?”
“No.”
“May I ask why not?”
She met his gaze and wondered at the flames that seemed to flicker in his eyes. Intrigued? Maybe. Tempted? Definitely. Still, she didn’t know him or trust him and didn’t understand at all why he seemed to be attracted to her. It only added to her frustration that her traitorous body was vibrating with lust from merely looking at him and briefly holding his hand.
“No, you may not,” she answered with as much cool indifference as she could muster. She quickly whirled around and walked away before she gave in to her ridiculous little fantasies and hurled herself at him. Though it was very, very difficult, she didn’t look back, and oh did she want to. She could practically feel his gaze on her butt. Oh God. Was he looking at her butt? She cringed at the slick, sensual rub of the swollen flesh nestled between her thighs, sensations spiraling through her with each purposeful step away from him.
No, she couldn’t have dinner with him, and she couldn’t tell him the reason why was that she didn’t trust herself. As she reached her car she gave in and glanced back at him. He hadn’t moved. He was still standing there, smiling as he watched her walk away. Despite her resolve to remain coolly detached, she returned his smile. Before she could change her mind she got into the car and headed home, wondering if she would see him again."
Wednesday, 10 March 2010
Sex, it's okay if it's an innuendo otherwise it makes people blush.
http://www.dailymail.co.uk/tvshowbiz/article-1256717/Blonde-Sky-Sports-presenter-ordered-racy-Twitter-page.html
There's no reason I want this waste of space "article" taking up my blog except it illustrates my belief perfectly. This woman who basically wears far too much makeup on television and yes I think you shouldn't have to tart yourself up if you're reading Sports news and you can look a little reputable as well lively, well anyway she has been reprimanded by Sky for posting racy tweets.
I love the title of this "article", "blonde presenter." That again goes to show how women with blonde hair are more objectified. I'm not defending these women because actually I think some of them once they dye their hair, act a certain away and they get their way by using their "feminity" and manipulation and further adding to sexism is not my way of living of life and I will always be strong minded about that. It's called an opinion, not jealousy, but an opinion.
So anyway, most of the comments who are by people who mostly have the most prejudiced beliefs in the world, say it's censorship and mad. Well actually I think she stepped over the line. Some of her tweets, "(Rory) Delap is using a towel to mop up some of the wet ready for those long thrusting balls into the box.’
Another said: ‘Golf today. Played with three boys. I came first, must have been down to good length.’
One posted earlier this year stated: ‘The sign on the ticket machine "
Sure that's funny but I wouldn't put that on a public networking site without thinking for a second that it may harm my job especially one which is so public. So I think firstly the woman is courting controversy..and it would not surprise me if she wanted some sort of mens magazine deal. I say that because that has happened in the past on numerous occasions.
I don't think it's okay to be posing and be provacative and not expect consequences. By the way I'm not talking about rape..there is NO excuse for a man not being able to control sticking his dick in a woman if she says no, no matter "how late" she says it.
So my belief is there are too many jokes about sex. It's funny but isn't it easier for people to joke about it than actually talk about it in this culture? We can show a woman pushing her boobs as if ready for sex straight away but don't show her nipples. We have to rate movies if they show one sex act but they can show shooting under a certificate 15. And in England, there's a post card type humour, a Carry On movies type oh she showed her boobs chortle,!, about sex.
The whole cliche of a tanned, slim blonde posing also shows a backward nature towards sex. It has to be handed out on a plate, obvious, no mystery, no sensuality, as if people are no longer in touch with their sensuality and sexuality is cheapened. Which they may like or not care about, but I do. I write Erotica, I'm a woman who wants her needs and fantasies met by multiple people who are worth it and seeing this behaviour puts me off sex. It doesn't make ME feel worthless but I should imagine growing up in this kind of culture and society makes girls want to objectify and cheapen themselves in order to have sex and I wonder if they really know what it is, means, the different - for want of a better word at the moment- types of sex and what it can be, and how every human being should be in touch with themselves and acknowledge all parts of themselves and do something about that in a humane way and this includes sexual nature.
Like I posted once before, we can pose, we can have Pussy Cat Dolls, stripping on MTV, but how many people have had an orgasm, how many people fake?? How many people think it's THEIR fault? You know? We need to be more honest and less of this bullshit please.
I also see a difference in going after what you want and being forward without compromising yourself and without playing to the man, but of course that is labelled aggresive in a woman.
There's no reason I want this waste of space "article" taking up my blog except it illustrates my belief perfectly. This woman who basically wears far too much makeup on television and yes I think you shouldn't have to tart yourself up if you're reading Sports news and you can look a little reputable as well lively, well anyway she has been reprimanded by Sky for posting racy tweets.
I love the title of this "article", "blonde presenter." That again goes to show how women with blonde hair are more objectified. I'm not defending these women because actually I think some of them once they dye their hair, act a certain away and they get their way by using their "feminity" and manipulation and further adding to sexism is not my way of living of life and I will always be strong minded about that. It's called an opinion, not jealousy, but an opinion.
So anyway, most of the comments who are by people who mostly have the most prejudiced beliefs in the world, say it's censorship and mad. Well actually I think she stepped over the line. Some of her tweets, "(Rory) Delap is using a towel to mop up some of the wet ready for those long thrusting balls into the box.’
Another said: ‘Golf today. Played with three boys. I came first, must have been down to good length.’
One posted earlier this year stated: ‘The sign on the ticket machine "
Sure that's funny but I wouldn't put that on a public networking site without thinking for a second that it may harm my job especially one which is so public. So I think firstly the woman is courting controversy..and it would not surprise me if she wanted some sort of mens magazine deal. I say that because that has happened in the past on numerous occasions.
I don't think it's okay to be posing and be provacative and not expect consequences. By the way I'm not talking about rape..there is NO excuse for a man not being able to control sticking his dick in a woman if she says no, no matter "how late" she says it.
So my belief is there are too many jokes about sex. It's funny but isn't it easier for people to joke about it than actually talk about it in this culture? We can show a woman pushing her boobs as if ready for sex straight away but don't show her nipples. We have to rate movies if they show one sex act but they can show shooting under a certificate 15. And in England, there's a post card type humour, a Carry On movies type oh she showed her boobs chortle,!, about sex.
The whole cliche of a tanned, slim blonde posing also shows a backward nature towards sex. It has to be handed out on a plate, obvious, no mystery, no sensuality, as if people are no longer in touch with their sensuality and sexuality is cheapened. Which they may like or not care about, but I do. I write Erotica, I'm a woman who wants her needs and fantasies met by multiple people who are worth it and seeing this behaviour puts me off sex. It doesn't make ME feel worthless but I should imagine growing up in this kind of culture and society makes girls want to objectify and cheapen themselves in order to have sex and I wonder if they really know what it is, means, the different - for want of a better word at the moment- types of sex and what it can be, and how every human being should be in touch with themselves and acknowledge all parts of themselves and do something about that in a humane way and this includes sexual nature.
Like I posted once before, we can pose, we can have Pussy Cat Dolls, stripping on MTV, but how many people have had an orgasm, how many people fake?? How many people think it's THEIR fault? You know? We need to be more honest and less of this bullshit please.
I also see a difference in going after what you want and being forward without compromising yourself and without playing to the man, but of course that is labelled aggresive in a woman.
Tuesday, 9 March 2010
Dream and tell.
A dream that you wish will come true..if you don't tell it. Well, like I say I don't believe in myths. For me it's very important, no essential to my living that I am 100 percent honest and explore everything. There's that expression don't air your dirty laundry, well this is my blog and I shall do what I wish on it. You are going to get the good and the bad.
Early hours of this morning I had the best dream I have had for while. It wasn't the best sleep but the content feeling I got during that dream, I felt warm and cosy. I felt happy inside. I could feel that, I don't know to what extent I was asleep and to be honest I'd rather take sleep over great dreams.
I don't believe that much in dreams because I don't like living under rules of any sort, that's why I read my horoscope and balk at the things I'm not supposed to do. Instead, I try and do them. It's not a rebellion or a fuck you, it's having to be free. I want that freedom at a great cost, fine, so be it.
But this dream meant a lot to me...because of that feeling I got inside.
I basically formed an easy, and meaningful friendship with this man whilst I was somewhere else. Whether it was another town or country I don't know..it was just a sense of being somewhere else. Perhaps it was a place called freedom. We spent time together talking, and were if not already watching a dvd in this room with just the two of us. I was clearly comfortable with him and then he wrote me a note after an interruption. Memories of that note are very hazy but I remember it was that that affirmed our friendship and how much this quickly formed, true bond meant to both of us, his feelings for me as a human being and a friend and an equal were very clear on that note. It was witty, articulate and meaningful..just like him. My image of him was someone perhaps 5 years older or the same age as me, or rather that was just how close we were intellectually. He looked kind of the same as men my age too..but he was so on par with me and so different to them.
He also never took anything of me for granted and nothing went unappreciated. He and I were purely equal. Then, it got time for me to move on and I remember something came in the way in the sense I would have to evaluate if I wanted a relationship with him and to approach him about that. I remember thinking, I should show him this side of me, show him my Erotica and not least because I knew he would have the intellect to read it, really read it.
What I have learned from this dream, that it was just a dream but that happiness I got inside confirms how important it is one never settles for less, especially if you are honest and in touch with yourself, you owe it to your soul, corny as that sounds, to never, ever settle for less.
The writer part of me is inspired to use this sort of spirit..not story..for Those Two, one of my stories on this blog. In that, there's two men and now I have come to a decision about them and me.
I hope everyone has at least one good dream from time to time..inspired or not, it's great for the soul.
Early hours of this morning I had the best dream I have had for while. It wasn't the best sleep but the content feeling I got during that dream, I felt warm and cosy. I felt happy inside. I could feel that, I don't know to what extent I was asleep and to be honest I'd rather take sleep over great dreams.
I don't believe that much in dreams because I don't like living under rules of any sort, that's why I read my horoscope and balk at the things I'm not supposed to do. Instead, I try and do them. It's not a rebellion or a fuck you, it's having to be free. I want that freedom at a great cost, fine, so be it.
But this dream meant a lot to me...because of that feeling I got inside.
I basically formed an easy, and meaningful friendship with this man whilst I was somewhere else. Whether it was another town or country I don't know..it was just a sense of being somewhere else. Perhaps it was a place called freedom. We spent time together talking, and were if not already watching a dvd in this room with just the two of us. I was clearly comfortable with him and then he wrote me a note after an interruption. Memories of that note are very hazy but I remember it was that that affirmed our friendship and how much this quickly formed, true bond meant to both of us, his feelings for me as a human being and a friend and an equal were very clear on that note. It was witty, articulate and meaningful..just like him. My image of him was someone perhaps 5 years older or the same age as me, or rather that was just how close we were intellectually. He looked kind of the same as men my age too..but he was so on par with me and so different to them.
He also never took anything of me for granted and nothing went unappreciated. He and I were purely equal. Then, it got time for me to move on and I remember something came in the way in the sense I would have to evaluate if I wanted a relationship with him and to approach him about that. I remember thinking, I should show him this side of me, show him my Erotica and not least because I knew he would have the intellect to read it, really read it.
What I have learned from this dream, that it was just a dream but that happiness I got inside confirms how important it is one never settles for less, especially if you are honest and in touch with yourself, you owe it to your soul, corny as that sounds, to never, ever settle for less.
The writer part of me is inspired to use this sort of spirit..not story..for Those Two, one of my stories on this blog. In that, there's two men and now I have come to a decision about them and me.
I hope everyone has at least one good dream from time to time..inspired or not, it's great for the soul.
Monday, 8 March 2010
I scoff in the face of cheerleaders.
Perhaps this could be a new title for a book..not a book..some kind of story I could work on. It's pretty much my motto for my heroines. I want them a specific way; very human. They don't and won't have tumbling waves of raven hair with forest green eyes that hold all the secrets to earth..because actually I don't know anyone like that. It normally requires equipment to get the tumbling waves and even Aishwarya Rai, a famous Indian beauty, needs lighting amongst other things to make her pale eyes a trademark or distinguishing. Eyes are tools as it is, they can be too close together or too wide apart, one eye bigger than the other, one lid lazier than the other, the colour amongst first meeting pretty but not Disney magical spell enchanting and so my stories won't contain any myths. I believe in starting somewhere, in falling in love with humans and not dolls. I don't believe in plastic surgery, or the emphasis on youth or trophy wives. This all exists but I'm doing it on purpose to make sure that never gets incoporated in my stories. How can I expect to write about raw lust and sex and love for life, whether it's the rest of their lives or less, when there is so much focus on enhanced appearance? I can't enjoy a book where the hero pursues the heroine for her wide set eyes and pixie like face and feisty attitude; she is just a cariacture. It's cliche and I can't buy into that. That's not part of what makes a woman feminine; it's her soul, her heart, the so called flaws but what I consider qualities to her appearance; say breasts that point down and a bottom with cellulite. As well as all the other little miscellaneous things that you can't explain but can drive someone to obsession. And the unthinkable happens, men fall in love with such human women all the time!
Then you have males..muscley males. Part of what defines a man is his masculinity and there's something sexy about hard meets soft; a hard man meeting a soft woman. It is erotic. But I do draw the line at bulging muscles..that requires equipment and again it's enhanced beauty and that as I have explained is something I will not be writing about. Part of sexiness in a man is again the so called flaws, the crooked tooth, the hair that's a little disarrayed, not carefully dishevelled, an awkward laugh, their strength and thinking. So many men nowadays waste time on things which may turn women on but whenever I see their little beanie hats or whatever placed to "cover a bad hair day" oh so carefully on their head and t shirts fitted and the wors..fake tan on a man, it's a total turn off because it's too much, not in the sense it's threatening though you know they are very into appearance as a value but it's just not sexy in that human, natural way.
I scoff at the world we live in, a perfectionist society, prejudices on height, weight and just about everything. Once upon a time talking about this was called an opinion, a belief, now should you dare to raise it in a discussion and not be insulting, you are called jealous. But isn't it the people who are the most competitive and perfectionist who use that word the most?
Then you have males..muscley males. Part of what defines a man is his masculinity and there's something sexy about hard meets soft; a hard man meeting a soft woman. It is erotic. But I do draw the line at bulging muscles..that requires equipment and again it's enhanced beauty and that as I have explained is something I will not be writing about. Part of sexiness in a man is again the so called flaws, the crooked tooth, the hair that's a little disarrayed, not carefully dishevelled, an awkward laugh, their strength and thinking. So many men nowadays waste time on things which may turn women on but whenever I see their little beanie hats or whatever placed to "cover a bad hair day" oh so carefully on their head and t shirts fitted and the wors..fake tan on a man, it's a total turn off because it's too much, not in the sense it's threatening though you know they are very into appearance as a value but it's just not sexy in that human, natural way.
I scoff at the world we live in, a perfectionist society, prejudices on height, weight and just about everything. Once upon a time talking about this was called an opinion, a belief, now should you dare to raise it in a discussion and not be insulting, you are called jealous. But isn't it the people who are the most competitive and perfectionist who use that word the most?
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