Showing posts with label Janine Ashbless. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Janine Ashbless. Show all posts

Thursday, December 4, 2008

Last minute Frenzy!

by Janine Ashbless

Okay, okay, I know we should be bowing out gracefully but I couldn't resist telling you about this new anthology from Cleis Press and the unstoppable Alison Tyler. Just in time for your Xmas shopping comes Frenzy : 60 stories of sudden sex. It's available on Amazon UK and on Amazon US and does exactly what it says on the tin: 60 short short stories - ranging from 100 words to 1500 - which are fast and hot and frantic, and come to you from some wonderful writers.

A not-very random flick through reveals stuff like:

"There were no sheets on the mattress. We fought our clothes, came out naked, fell on the floor. The silver crucifix round your neck hit me in the face as we fucked - fast, urgent, silent."
(Madrid - Nikki Magennis - hey, she's in twice!)

"Sherri hauled the massive door nearly shut behind them. She used his own cuffs to secure one of his hands to the chair, then tied the other back with the partner to the stocking over her head. 'Don't make a sound,' she said."
(The Heist - Andrea Dale)

"I also realised the uncomfortable pressure againt my bum-cheek wasn't a pistol stock: it was an importunate hard-on. I twisted round to flash my pirate a look. He grimaced and muttered, 'Sorry.'

I grinned and gave him a wriggle to let him know the only hard feeling involved were those of his cock. He tensed up. He was a tall bloke and he had a good view straight down over my shoulder into the capacious depths of my cleavage. Like I said, I blame the costume. "
(Pirate Treasure - Janine Ashbless )

"But mostly right now what I want to do is kiss you all along the edges of your apricot panties, following the bikini-cut boundary across your belly, around to that ticklish spot in the small of your back ... and downward, ever downward, taking care to kiss each millimeter of the hidden place where the gusset clings against the very upper insides of your thighs..."
(You in Your Apricot Panties - Jeremy Edwards)

"I need this now. Need the pain. Need you, specifically, to give it to me.

Even if the rules were to change, I would still be bound to you, still waiting patiently (no - impatiently, but attempting to show patience), ass in the air, pussy dripping, nerves dancing, waiting for the first blow of the cane."
(Love Song for the Cane - Teresa Noelle Roberts)

"'That's it baby. Tell me what a whore you are. Tell me how much you like that cock inside you.'

I started to shake. I was going to come soon, and he knew it. He knew what effect his voice, his cock, had on me. I loved the feeling of his strong hard body over mine. But even the simple mindfuck was enough to make me beg for more. And so I did."
(Simplicity - Gwen Masters)

"There's been petting and kissing in the car and in the elevator up to his place. But we're at that moment, when the glaze is over us. That sex glaze that makes everything seem speeded up. Your heart's pumping so fast, and your pussy. I was dripping. And I do what he says. I bend over and hold my ankles. I've got these striped thigh-high stockings on and high heels, and I'm a bit unstable, but I do my best."
(Bastard - Alison Tyler)

"So now she rises first thing, as she did this morning, and steps into the shower. Beneath the hot water she masturbates, swiping away the crumbs of her desire. She closes her eyes, imagines that her fingers are dripping with chocolate, with caramel, that her body is slathered with frosting, that the salt from her skin is sugar, honey, sweetened ice tea."
(Appetite - Shanna Germain)

"The lightning now is so close it sizzles. The cool room smells hot. Your eyes are wild and your mouth is wide in a silent scream that gives way to clenching orgasm. Your rebel yell is absorbed in the bass drum thunder. Your fingernails impale my back with another orgasm."
(Photo Finish - Craig J Sorensen)

Plus 50 others from the likes of Rachel Kramer Bussel, Donna George Storey and Thomas S Roche. The perfect pix-n-mix!


And brand new out this week - in fact TODAY in the UK - is Best Women's Erotica 2009 which is edited by battle-robot-building Violet Blue and contains my story Ritual Space. Here's a quick excerpt:

‘This is ritual space: anything could happen here. The supplicants would be lying alone in the pitch dark. Keyed up. Hyperventilating because they’re scared and claustrophobic and horny and there’s not much air. Reaching out to touch the protective sigil above them. They’d be capable of seeing things even without priests prompting them.’

Hayden rolled carefully onto his side to face me, his shoulder nearly brushing the roof. ‘Horny?’

I shrugged, thinking that my words had run away with me. ‘Perceived peril makes people more aroused. It’s freshman psychology.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Well thank God it’s not just me then.’

I laughed, mostly from tension, and he chuckled with me.

‘So … Did it make you horny, working down here?’ he wondered.

I blushed and ran my tongue across my lips. ‘Sometimes.’ My voice sounded weak. ‘It’s the silence…’

‘Did you ever do anything about it?’

Those eyes would not let me go. I bit my lip and nodded.

‘Down here?’

‘Yes,’ I whispered.

He grinned, soft and slow. ‘I’m not sure that’s good archaeological practice.’

‘No,’ I admitted. Our voices were very low now.

His face moved closer to mine. ‘I want to know what you did, Alex ... when you should have been working.’

‘Why?’

‘Professional curiosity.’ But the sweep of his lips was a caress described on the air. My skin tingled.

‘I … would sometimes touch myself.’

‘Through your panties?’

‘Sometimes. Or I would pull down my fly and … touch myself properly.’

‘Ah. Were you wet before you started?’

‘Usually.’

‘Are you wet now?’

I nodded.

‘Show me.’ His eyes were shining. ‘Show me how you did it.’


In her introduction to BWE2009 - which you can find in full here - Violet Blue reimagines the myth of Persephone (one of my favourite, and I am truly glad I wrote my Persephone story for the upcoming Dark Enchantment - out January - before she wrote this or it would look like I was plagiarising!) and calls me "the supremely talented Janine Ashbless."

Can I say that again, in colour?
Violet Blue calls me "supremely talented!"
*swoons*

xxx
Janine

Monday, November 24, 2008

Well I Never Did...

by Janine Ashbless

Alas, the final demise of Lust Bites is soon approaching ... and so much is left unsaid. You may not realise it but behind the scenes we're constantly discussing who is going to post on what, poking each other with ideas and trying to work out what it is that people really want to see. (We also worry about our deadlines and complain about the weather. See, it's all glamour in this business.)
Some of our plans do make the grade and crawl out into public view but some never got the chance. My Crush Wednesday post on Nice Guys will languish unwritten for example - damn-it, you all just wanted to gush about Bad Boys! My report on the Erotica 2008 expo (this weekend just gone) dropped dead the moment they confiscated my camera. You will never hear about my Kilt fetish. And the article on Minotaur Sex ... well, all I'm saying is you should all be very grateful...


And I've spent so many hours trawling the interweb for photos to use that I've got this virtual attic stuffed with pictures of various sorts: Coming Attractions, gratuitous man-candy, armpit porn and some serious weirdness. Since they're never going to see the light of day in an article I thought I'd pull some out from between the rafters, blow off the dust and let you glimpse what might have been. Or wonder along with me what the bloody hell I was thinking of, frankly.


Obviously some of these pictures were never going to appear because they were just too damn rude. I can't show you those. Not on a respectable blog like Lust Bites.

Others are good clean healthy fun. The Sports Council would certainly approve.




Other pictures ... well, there's just no excuse for this sort of thing:


A healthy mind in a healthy body?


Best to make sure.
Take a good close look.


I've asked the other Lusties what they've been saving for a rainy day ... so today's post is a special extending one - keep popping back during the day and hopefully there will be even more photos to make you blush, grin, wince or wash your mind out with soap.

Over to you, Lusties!
xxx
Janine



Madeline Moore here. What a lovely collection of pictures Janine! I have nothing of the sort to share, but I do have the following post, which was inspired by Kristina Lloyd's post on the word 'Cunt.' As you can see, I ran out of steam part way through, and it has languished ever since.

Fuck - an essay by Madeline Moore


I swore like a sailor until I met Felix Baron. He didn’t tolerate it from his wives or his children and he certainly wasn’t going to tolerate it from me. When Felix was a kid he spent two years in the British Army. It was then that he decided he wasn’t going to speak in such a filthy tongue. After he bested a couple of soldiers at fisticuffs, his position was accepted. When it was time to go home, more than one soldier came to him for help. ‘Hit me whenever I say fuck,’ they’d insist. In no time, their arms were black and blue. Not that Felix hit me when I said, ‘Fuck.’ He just frowned.

Since I was dedicated to being the perfect companion to him I stopped immediately. It helped that seeing Felix left me tongue tied. I rarely spoke above a whisper and then managed only the simplest, mono-syllabic words.

Felix wrote a short story in which the Master puts his slave up for auction because she has a ‘dirty mouth’. The story arrived via email, in parts. I almost wept at the part where the auction actually took place. Was Felix warning me that he’d leave me if I didn’t watch my mouth? In the end it turned out the Master was the man who’d placed the bid via telephone. So he bought back his own slave, properly chagrined. Surprise!

I’m not saying I’m not ever to use the word. It’s a perfectly acceptable verb. I’m simply being asked to use it correctly; not as an adjective or an adverb.

I’m a nut for language so that sits well with me. Also, now I have to think about my adjectives, which makes them more colourful and, always, more apt. What are, after all, fucking shoes, or fucking keys, or a fucking ice cream cone?

You’d think motherhood would’ve forced me to speak well. Actually, it did, but once my kids started using the word (they learned it at school, I swear) I’d been freer to use it again. Plus, I’d always peppered my speech with fucks among adults.

It was my generation that made it typical to see ‘fuck’ scrawled across walls, lockers, magazines, coming out of the tv, constant on the screen, bleeped out of interviews, and not bleeped out of interviews. We made the word a household name. Now what?

It’s a good hard word that probably doesn’t have its origins in ‘for unlawful carnal language.’ (Insert Bit on the etymology.)

And it fits well in fiction: (insert a coupla hot uses of the word fuck as a verb)

But it doesn’t belong before every verb and noun known to man...


Hmmm. I also tried to put together a post that would share our porno names with the world - but it didn't fly. Here's how it's done. Take the name of your first pet and add it to the name of the first street you lived on. Voila! All I can tell you is this:

Madeline Moore's porno name is - Muffy Lorette.

Janine Ashbless' porno name is - Maria Mavin.

Kate Pierce's porno name is - Georgie Dangan.

Madelynne Ellis' porno name is - Tinker Huntley Terrace.

Jamaica Layne's porno name is - Bluebell Hamlet.

I was gonna do some more fun things in the 'Name Game' post, I swear. But maybe it's just as well I gave it up when I did.

Next?
xoxo Madeline Moore


Hm, for my part, I guess you'll never get to see the Adventures of Erotic Writer Mum, complete with stick figure drawings in a comic strip style, or my post on dialogue featuring lots of film clips, *grin* including this one. Totally love this film. Note: Not work safe and somewhat gory and grotesque!



Suppose I can add a few of the piccies I'd hoarded too.



Oh, and this one, which I was saving for a post on auto-erotica.



Ah, yes, the things I watch in the name of research. Those who have read it may recall this scene in Phantasmagoria.

Best, Madelynne Ellis xx






Well there was this post I wanted to do about feminism and what it meant to women in the new century, but I was too scared to do it, because I 'suspected' (after the sex wars week) that it 'might' cause a few problems. But I still wish I'd done it.
and there were a couple of photos I hoarded all to myself because...well, I wanted to enjoy them all by myself.
There's this one:


I could've written a whole post about my love for David Beckham, and told you all about how I saw him play this year in Oakland California against the San Jose football team. And he took off his shirt and set up a goal for Landon Donovan-but I probably would've bored you with all that.




I definitely mentioned my love for Robbie Williams, but I don't think I shared this picture. It really should've gone into one of the bad boy posts. And I think that's about it from me! LOL
Kate Pearce xx

Sunday, November 16, 2008

Coming Attractions

The shower cubicle here at Lust Bites Mansion might be a bit draughty, but we can't complain about the fittings...

Coming up this week:

On Monday we witness a paranormal event: the bilocation of Pam Rosenthal. Pam, in the guise of Molly Weatherfield, is the author of the gorgeous BDSM novel Carrie's Story and has been a guest here before. When she writes erotic romance she uses her other nom-de-plume, and she will be blogging simultaneously here and on Kate Pearce's blog, on the subject of her new erotic historical romance The Edge of Impropriety.

On Wednesday Kate will be tightening cinches, branding bulls and roping steers, as she gives us a sneak preview of her forthcoming cowboy novel, Riding the Line.

Olivia Knight will be arranging a Christmas tête à tête for Saturday, in Oxford, as part of the Writers in Oxford Christmas book fair - full details on Thursday.

And on Friday Olivia Knight will be in a challenging mood: she'll be telling us all about the new book 101 Sexy Dares, offering some extra ones and giving away prizes. Got any ideas for sexy dares of your own? We want to hear!

Join us all week! Go on: I dare you.
xxx
Janine

Friday, November 7, 2008

Vampire Bites

by Janine Ashbless


"I do not drink … coffee."


Bwa ha ha…


Vampires. They’re insatiable, they’re everywhere and they’re hungry for sex as well as blood. Gone are the days when they hung out in dingy castles in the Carpathians and stole the occasional filthy peasant baby for dinner. Nowadays it’s all sharp clothes and nightclubs and urban gangsterism, or exotic locales, designer drugs and hard liquor. And yes – they’re well into the sex thing these days. Omnisexual and sadistic, travel may have broadened their minds but they’re just as mean as ever ol’ Dracula was.


In Lust at First Bite, the new Black Lace anthology of sexy vampire short stories, you’ll find vampires in Venice, in Egypt and on the Ganges, in the theatre and the suburbs, Coney Island and remote hotels and the offices of media executives. And since four of us Lusties have stories in the collection, here’s your sneak peek:



The Oasis at Night by Madeline Moore

(Charles and Miriam are searching for the lost tomb of Cleopatra deep in the Egyptian desert…)

Charles shimmied down. He tongued orange in and out of her sex, until the mangled fruit disappeared down his throat. An inch from his eyes, her inner lips were delicate, and scarlet. Beneath her skin a vein pulsed so strongly he could count her heartbeats. He sucked one tender lip into his mouth. With it held between the lips of his mouth, he could feel the throb of her blood as it pulsed.

It was so tempting … He let his incisors sink into the flesh, just a tad, still divided by a thin sensitive film of flesh. She groaned, so he did it again and then released her pussy from his mouth like a beast of prey dropping its catch.

‘I could eat you, little bird,’ he said. He propped himself on his elbows and stretched his body the length of hers. ‘And I might. But not tonight.’

‘Tonight is all we have, Charles,’ she whispered.

‘I still need you,’ he whispered back.

He entered her then, roughly, in one hard thrust that travelled deep inside her tight tunnel. Six hard strokes and he’d had enough of it. Too soft, this tunnel, too yielding.

He pulled out, flipped her over, yanked her to all fours and was in her bum before she could take another ragged breath. The rougher he got, the louder she got. He wound his fist in her hair and tugged her head back. Her mouth dropped open and she was shrieking, which made him laugh. He couldn’t see the pulse in her throat but it didn’t matter any more, he could hear it, or was it his own pulse, his own heartbeat recklessly, wildly fuelling the monster between his legs.




Sometimes They Come Back by Portia Da Costa

(Richard, having walked out on his wife Mel, returns to their house in the hope of reconciliation…)

Sounds from upstairs made him nearly faint in an agony of mental pain.

It was voices. Mel’s and that of a man. Low with pleasure and ragged, as if deliciously close to orgasm.

He almost flew up the stairs, more sure footed now, his anguish lending him wings.

In the bedroom, as he burst in, exactly the tableau that he’d feared assaulted his eyes.


His Mel, astride another man, her body magnificent in torn black lingerie, her eyes wild with lust and hot dark glee as she gazed down at the pale muscular form of her lover. A lean man, ripped and powerful, with long flaxen hair.

Richard froze, unable to speak or move. He could do nothing but watch in a saturation of horror and grinding despair.

Slowly, slowly, Mel undulated and rocked on the body of her paramour, her slender form hypnotic in its grace and almost glowing, fluorescent with sensuality. Slowly, slowly she turned her head to the side and looked straight at Richard, her beau
tiful face a disdainful mask of passion. Her eyes still on him, she reached down to the apex of her thighs, where she sat on the slim hips of her lover, and languidly, almost insultingly, strummed her clit.

Her lips were red, decadently stained, and her neck was bleeding, just as the neck of the man beneath her was.

Only her blood, and her companion’s, was almost black
.




The Blood of the Martyrs by Janine Ashbless

(Emily and her lover Paolo have accidentally released an undead medieval saint from his Venetian crypt…)

‘Ah.’ Aronne’s breath was hot in my lips. ‘This is sin.’

‘It will be forgiven,’ I whispered.

He stared. We were both trembling now. Ghost-pale, his cock sprang out into my grasp. Hot velvet skin moved under my hands as I measured his rigid length. I dared to look down. His prick was big and ruthlessly eager, not sharing his misgivings. A bead of moisture gleamed at the tip: no pearl, but a ruby.

I wanted to take the body and blood in my mouth.

Do this in remembrance of Me.

Stolen clothes. Stolen memories. They were too much for him. This saint had the appetites of a predator, whetted to a razor edge by years of deprivation and darkness. His eyes were scarlet reflective discs of light as he stooped and picked me up, jamming me against the chapel bars. And then he opened my loose pyjama jacket, the last pathetic piece of clothing between me and those jaws, and with immense care bit my breasts, over and over. His teeth were so sharp that the bites hurt comparatively little, but every puncture sent the lightning of Heaven crashing through my body. His tongue burned and soothed me simultaneously, lapping at my flesh. I wrapped my legs around his torso and knotted my hands in his white hair and rode the waves of shock and euphoria, surrendering myself to his strength and his need.



And last but not least…

El Alquimista by Madelynne Ellis

(Jessamine has gone to confront the vampire called the Alchemist over the death of her lover Billy…)

I’m like a furnace now, burning up. But the Alchemist never stops coaxing. ‘You shouldn’t have gone so long without a lover,’ he says. ‘Your hunger is consuming you. I can ease that. I can make it all go away. Just give me the word and we’ll make a bond.’

I want him; crave him with every ounce of my being, but the price he’s asking is far too high.

When he nicks my ear lobe, panic floods my veins and I rise up beneath him. I don’t escape. Our bodies just press closer, but he does release my wrists. ‘You must know how this works,’ he says. ‘I need to take a little the better to give.’

‘No. I saw what you did to Billy, you won’t take that from me.’

‘Are you implying that your boyfriend was bisexual? Do you imagine I fucked his arse as I took his blood?’

‘No!’ I don’t know what I’m protesting at: the implication that I’d imagined it or the image he is planting. Billy was true to me. This beast preyed upon him. They were never lovers.

But I can see them entwined now. Billy’s knees on the floor, his upper body supported by the white sofa and his hand on his cock, wanking himself while the Alchemist thrust roughly into his arse.

‘Stop it,’ I gasp. ‘Stop planting these images.’

‘Why?’ he laughs. ‘They’re turning you on.’



If you want to read more then you can buy Lust At First Bite from Amazon UK as of this week, or pre-order from Amazon US (out in January). Just the thing for those long Winter nights…

Sweet dreams!

xxx
Janine

Wednesday, October 15, 2008

F.F.F!!

by Janine Ashbless

First the news, then the nudes.

The great news is that my novel Wildwood is now not only available in the UK, but from today is also in bookstores in the US, and can now be downloaded as a lovely paper-saving e-book from All Romance eBooks.

Wildwood: sex among the trees! Sex up a tree! Sex with fairies that turn back into trees when they are done!

To celebrate I thought I'd celebrate the work of some of the more eccentric (and horny) tree-hugging environmentalists out there: the extraordinary charity Fuck For Forest.

I mean, imagine you're an idealistic young person with a yearning to save the world's threatened forests. What do you do - write a cheque to the Woodland Trust? Make sure your barbeque charcoal is sourced from renewable coppiced woodlands? Refuse to watch Axemen? Well if you are Norwegian couple Leona Johansson and Tommy Hol Ellingsen, you start a consciousness-raising eco group whose publicity stunts revolve around lots of people having sex in public. Then you set up a pay-for-porn website featuring hardcore amateur action, whose income goes to protecting forests across the globe. And you burst into public consciousness and get into serious legal trouble by getting up onstage at a rock festival and going at it like bunnies.


"FFF are concerned humans, exploring the power of sexuality, all to save nature. We know a lot of people are interested in sexuality, including us. We want to have fun with sex, show natural people and collect money for saving nature! We think it is time to pay respect to nature, and give back with love."

The result is Fuck For Forest (FFF), a unique environmental charity. Because its fundraising techniques are a bit (oo-er) rude, strait-laced charities like the WWF have refused to accept their cash, meaning that they've started working direct with indigenous community groups and buying their own land in Costa Rica.

FFF: if paying for online porn is your thing, this is the way to do it with a rosy conscience.
"Porn makes really, really a lot of money," they say, "so why not use that money for good?"

Hooray for brave, painted, and slightly bonkers hippies!

"We feel sexuality is beeing treated like nature, with disrespect. We wanted to use love & sexuality to fight against this un-natural way of treating our planet."






















BTW I'm off on holiday for a few weeks after today. In our grand tradition of Holidaying Where Americans Fear to Vacation (Egypt straight after 9/11, Turkey the week of the invasion of Iraq), I'm off round Jordan and Syria. If I don't re-appear in November will someone please tell Adam at Black Lace? And don't anyone go starting a war in the Midddle East, d'you hear...
xxx
Janine

Sunday, October 12, 2008

Coming Attractions

by Janine Ashbless
No, this isn't me saying I've got the decorators in, ha ha ha.

This week on Lust Bites:

On Monday Jamaica Layne will be telling us all about her new novel Market for Love.

On Tuesday Olivia Knight (assuming she can tear herself away from Hay-on-Wye, 2nd-hand-book capital of the world but possessing not a single internet cafe...) will be popping the champagne corks for the US release of Enchanted.

On Wednesday Janine Ashbless will be singing the praises of naturist charity campaign Fuck for Forest.

And on Friday Kate Pearce will be telling us all about the movie Scene She Loves.

Lust Bites - way more fun than watching paint dry!

Sunday, September 28, 2008

Coming Attractions

by Janine Ashbless This picture shows Simon Keenlyside as Don Giovanni in the current run at the Royal Opera in London. I hope it serves to remind us all that the path of sensual indulgence and concupiscence leads only to perdition. Yep, that's what I think every time I look at this picture.

Stiffening our moral fibre this week on Lust Bites :

On Monday Edie Bingham brings us a salutary look at Fun Loving Criminals.

On Wednesday Madelynne Ellis introduces an uplifting movie Scene We Love.

UPDATE: On Friday Dayle Dermatis and Teresa Noelle Roberts will be back to lead us through the philosophical and highly educational Modern Kama Sutra.

Lust Bites: a bastion of invigorating probity and virtue all year round!

xxx
Janine

Monday, September 8, 2008

"Mr Black Lace" - an interview with Adam Nevill

by Janine Ashbless


This year marks 15 years of Black Lace books, so we decided to get together as a posse and corner the Editor of the imprint, Adam Nevill, for an interview.

We should have taken nets. Adam is possibly one of the hardest-working people in publishing (I’ve had e-mails sent from his desk at 7.30 in the morning and 8.00 at night). It’s hard to believe that he manages to write his own books as well – BDSM erotica for Nexus under the name of Lindsay Gordon, and dark supernatural fiction under his own name – his novel Banquet for the Damned is out now in paperback, and a proper creepy Jamesian read it is.

But he gave us the interview. And oh what an interview…




Hello Adam – Welcome to Lust Bites!
How did you come to be Black Lace editor?

I’d been writing for Nexus for ten years (nine erotic novels as Lindsay Gordon – by the way, the one women like best is called Angel, followed by The Bond) (Dammit – I just picked the covers I liked best – J) and the senior editor, responsible for erotica, Kerri Sharp, asked me to step up to the plate when my predecessor, Paul, moved on. I was asked to interview, take tests etc, and was then offered the job to look after Nexus. Kerri left six months later and her whole erotica empire was bequeathed to me, including Black Lace, the Wicked Words spin-off, and Cheek. A mixed blessing because I ran the entire operation alone for three months (and nearly combusted) before Donna began as assistant.

You edit Nexus and Cheek as well as Black Lace. From your point of view, are these different experiences?

Some aspects are identical. On the operational side of publishing, it’s the same – each title in each imprint has the same critical path, same amount of work dedicated to it etc, from covers, producing marketing materials like catalogues, the sales materials for the reps, cover meetings, proof stages, reading commissioning and contracting.

Editorially, each imprint has a different set of guidelines and its own creative identity and direction, but the same rules apply in terms of the quality of writing submitted. I think it’s fair to say we’re more rigorous than many publishers of erotic material, in terms of the quality control applied to what we publish. A certain standard has to be achieved for each imprint. Content-wise there are differences too - Nexus is written by male and female authors, but its focus is on fetish erotica, BDSM etc and has a predominantly male readership. It tends to require a more specialist writer in terms of their interests in adult material and fantasy. Black Lace is written by women and is a explicit fictional exploration of female fantasy, the readership is mixed but women are its focus so a female readership is catered to in terms of story and content. Cheek is aimed at a younger US female romance reader with less explicit, and mostly hetero vanilla, erotica interests.

The experience is different because each series poses different challenges in terms of completing a schedule. Nexus receives far more submissions than the other two and we could fill the schedule many times beyond what we actually publish. Even when I was publishing 36 original Nexus titles a year, it wasn’t difficult to find fiction to fill such an enormous publishing enterprise. Black Lace has only ever had 12 original titles on its schedule per year since I have been in charge, and it’s far more difficult to commission. It is actually hard to find 12 titles per year to publish under Black Lace. Cheek is also a challenge to complete, even though we only do six titles per year. Cheek has relied almost exclusively on a stable of regular, trusted authors from the US – Alison Tyler, Michelle Pillow, Anne Tourney etc. Most of them I inherited with the series or encouraged to write more/again, but I did introduce Kate Pearce as a new author to the series, and Jamaica Layne. And Kate is a very popular author.

I think there are just so many opportunities for female authors right now in erotica and romance, which has led to a decrease in the quality of submissions from new authors – too many are writing too much.

Do you ever wake up in the morning thinking "Argh! Not more porn!"?

Never. Not more bad writing, sure. Not more delusion and missives from the criminally insane, sure (you’d be amazed at what erotica publishing attracts in the post, or maybe you wouldn’t be). But human sexuality and fantasy is never dull. It’s a privilege to have so many fantasies and fetishes and ideas shared with me.

What was the first naughty book you ever read?

Delta of Venus by Anais Nin. I was eleven and knew nothing about sex at that age. In fact, I remember arguing with friends loudly in the street, that babies were born through the tummy button, and were willed into existence by a mother wanting a child. All of my friends were laughing at me. I was clueless and getting angrier with them all. It left me baffled, but my curiosity led me to the only book in our house that had a vaguely saucy cover. The house was full of books and on the shelf that contained Henry Miller, James Joyce etc, I found a hardback book with a cover featuring the photograph of a woman adjusting her stocking. I began reading it whenever my parents left the house. And I must have read it four times before actually had a sex education lesson at school, so I received the birds and bees from a French woman, who wrote bespoke erotic fantasies for male patrons in Paris. Not a bad way to learn about sex, but it set up enormous expectations. Sex had a lot to live up to. It also had the most incredible impact on my imagination – I thought of sex in Anais Nin terms from then on, and started writing erotica later because of her work.

Being an erotica editor sounds like a dream job. But tell us about the hard work involved - What does a day at HQ look like?

I’ve never had such an interesting job, nor such a demanding one. There are only ever two of us, working on between 50 – 80 titles per year, depending on what’s in the schedule. And publishing requires precision and every aspect of creating a book, is time-consuming. We’re also probably liaising with over 80 authors because of the huge backlist, let alone the current year’s work we’re publishing plus the following year’s schedule we’re trying to commission at the same time. So we’re reading for the following year’s schedule, working on proofs for books five months away from publication, writing marketing and sales materials for books ten months prior to publication, choosing covers for books somewhere else along their critical path, organising contracts for another part of the schedule, trying to keep up with author correspondence, sending out review copies every month … Stop, my chest is going tight and it’s the weekend as I’m writing this. So it is no exaggeration to state that the workload is colossal. Just colossal. It’s a vocation for me, not a career. I’m not a career-publisher/editor – I’m just in it for the books and writers. And from that, the rewards can be tremendous. To find a new author, to know a book you are publishing is bad-ass, to complete a good collection of short stories, to see all the new titles arrive in their shiny new covers each month, to read the good reviews, to work with interesting creative people … It all balances out.

How do you think that Black Lace has changed over the last 15 years, and where do you see it going in the next 15?

Good question. I look back on its golden period from 1993 – 2000, and am in awe at how huge BL really was. It was a cultural phenomena. Publishing genius. And run by some very talented people, notably the chief, Kerri Sharp. The variety, the extent, the poignancy and power of female sexual fantasy contained therein shocked and surprised a great many people. It had an impact similar to Nancy Friday’s Secret Garden. It was a liberation for female sexual fantasy. It had a certain tone and manner back then too – you could really feel the influence of classic twentieth century erotic literature like ‘O’, the subversive historical romps, of rebellious elements in taboo twentieth century fiction that pressed against the bounds and limits of what was deemed acceptable for women to read and write about. It was so far removed from the tepid bonk-buster – it produced some riotous and libidinous erotica. It was groundbreaking.

The world changed very quickly, and continues to change. The book trade changed, the internet came along, television became more racy, a zillion satellite channels appeared, hardcore was plentiful, electronic and digital media just exploded – and the whole publishing environment for erotic fiction changed. Our monopoly on what was unacceptable and illegal in other media was over. But BL kept pace with the times, had a make-over, bought a new wardrobe and had extensive cosmetic surgery. It entered the Sex and the City age and started to feel younger, and more contemporary. Historicals were published rarely, and there was pressure in-house to turn it into chick-lit. Which is how Cheek came into being. But after such an explosive and powerful start in life, Black Lace is a lovely sleek proud feline that would struggle to change its spots. Nor should it. And the trade will always throw it on to the top shelf in the UK, so why disappoint expectations? So despite the various pressures, there may have been a lessening of BDSM interests, or themes that had become tired, but it still remained edgy. I always thought of 2000 onwards as the riot girl age – Tabitha Flyte, Mathilde Madden, Anna Clare, Alaine Hood, Emma Holly etc There were fewer highwaymen, brooding masterly types in chateaus, and corsets, but lots of new voices.

Since I’ve been there (2005) my biggest and primary task was to find enough authors writing books good enough and suitable for Black Lace. A lot of authors were alienated by the change in direction a few years before. We had major drop-off in submissions, and many authors were now writing for other genres too, having cut their teeth with BL. And I also wanted to keep the series not just up-to-date, but to also anticipate new trends in female fiction. I’ve really had a shot at the cross-genre paranormal erotica, as it’s own mini-series within Black Lace, and pushed for more elements of what the US call erotic romance too, because the US is our biggest audience and women out there are enjoying a similar thrill with erotica that women experienced back in the UK in the early nineties. And erotic romance has mainly been intense vanilla, light bondage, and straight erotica with a HEA ending. The huge romance community and arbitration bodies in the US recently accepted female-authored erotica into the canon of romance and, therefore, what is sold in the romance sections of bookshops (and romance accounts for 40% of all paperback sales in North America). So it’s a massive deal for us to be hauled out of the zoology, psychology, self-help, sex and relationship sections, at the back of US bookstores, and to be shelved within the all-important romance section. And it has been really important for a while to keep BL looking a certain way, in order to break into and then maintain our presence in that side of the US business. We’ve also innovated with the covers in the last four years, to create a style palatable to both the US and UK. And if you look at the new anniversary editions, you’ll see where we’re going for the foreseeable in terms of imagery and art direction. We’re making a statement – we’re a classic brand, and we built the first wheel on this wagon that many have copied, and many have come and gone, but BL remains as the original erotic series fiction written by women.

The erotic romance direction has called in some flak over the last two years, and I completely understand the ire I may have caused, but becoming more attractive to the US market has really helped to continue our fortunes, and our foreign rights sales are better in contemporary straight erotica territory. Of course, the US market is also changing and the content is getting harder out there, and closer to what we were doing back in the nineties, and I’m also acutely aware that some of the edgier BL titles are also selling better everywhere now. So, I welcome older school elements, and darker explorations of female fantasy going forward.

In the near future, we’ll do exceptional historical and paranormal erotica – like Janine Ashblesss brilliant new collection, Dark Enchantment (:-D And I didn’t even prompt him – J) – but will mainly concentrate on contemporary settings, with stories featuring a wide range of female sexual fantasy. And they can be just as explicit and daring and action-packed as they were in 1993. I want to do more old-school titles, in the same vein of Fredrica Alleyn’s Cassandra’s Conflict and Susie Raymond’s Forbidden Fruit. It can be confusing for authors to get so much information about alterations in direction, but markets change, and so do tastes, and editors get hit with that first. But the constants remain, whether your style tends toward the literary (see the marvellous Kristina Lloyd and Leonie Martell and Olivia Knight), or a far more commercial and mainstream style – then the writing has to be strong and the erotic content surprising and arousing.

So aim to write good, edgy, action-packed contemporary stories.

Do you think the boom in the American erotic romance market will result in increased publicity and sales for BL/Cheek in the US?

I think this has already been happening since 2006 – I’ve been out to RWA a few times to represent our books; we have a great new US distributor; and we enjoy a lot of new exposure in the US romance community now. We get so many great reviews on romance websites, and I’ve tried to encourage a US approach in the way we all market and publicise ourselves as authors. In fact, Lust Bites came into life after we did a live BL & Cheek online day with Romance B(u)y the Book.

As a result of these efforts we’ve grown Black Lace in the US. But it hasn’t happened by accident and just as a result of trends – not wanting to blow our trumpet here, but a lot of us have worked very hard to improve our profile in the US and increase sell-in.

(With both halves of Sophie Mouette)

Have you seen any changes in the more popular scenarios and fetishes in recent years? What would you say is popular now?

That’s a huge question. Worthy of PhD study. Even a book. Because the internet has shown just how diverse human sexuality is, and how increasingly partialist it is becoming. Before, this was only reflected in magazines like Skin Two, Forum and Desire, and underground presses that had large readerships, and in Nancy Friday’s groundbreaking books. But the neural networks, largely around visual media, that have erupted and evolved online have changed the sexual landscape beyond measure and even comprehension at times. How can the book keep pace? How can erotic fiction be kept both entertaining and within guidelines and be a working model of modern sexuality? A challenge – that we have met with some groundbreaking ideas. Nexus Enthusiast and Confessions have embraced these bespoke erotica trends by being more specialist. BL has branched into new cross-genre areas too. In BL I’d say female submission within the sexual act is still the mainline, regardless of the feisty preliminaries or characters, but the ménage and the greedy girl is even more popular than ever. Empowerment through surrender, really. Becoming the centre of unrestrained male desire – becoming the spark that starts the fire. Gay porn has had an impact too on women’s erotica (homo-erotica seems more popular than ever in fan-fiction). Fem dom is massive with male readers but seems to have passed female readers by. I’d say The Private Undoing of a Public Servant by Leonie Martell is one of the best erotic novels published in recent times – it’s a very vivid, intelligent and arousing story, as much as an investigation, into male submission and female dominance. But the reaction to it has underwhelmed me. I think it will endure and become a classic, but in its own time, it has had a normal reception. So group sex, and even extreme submission to the opposite sex, seem to be high on the agendas of male and female fantasy.

Are there discrepancies between what the readers are seeking and the types of material you are being sent by writers?

Our hands are often tied by what we receive – it’s not easy to write fiction well, and erotic fiction is just about the hardest field to get right. So as an editor, you will always publish the best writers, and the best submissions you receive in any period of time, and writers are at their best writing about what rings their bell, so it might not always tick every box for the widest number of readers. But this is where the anthology is king, and our short story collections are very popular. It’s the best medium for erotica – you can dip in and out and find that scene that electrifies you. With a novel, it’s good if it can cover a broad pattern of sexual fantasy within its story. Use your imagination and grow – writers and readers alike can be very self-important in terms of their own tastes. We have one writer that the critics constantly berate, or refuse to review, but he sells so well in Nexus because he does female shame so well – "I really shouldn’t be doing this, but my damn body is betraying me" – so those simple, basic fundamentals still constantly underpin erotic fiction. Don’t underrate them. Use them in different circumstances and situations, and with characters with whom their very status, and what is at stake for them if caught, ratchets up the tension and anticipation. Incongruity is vital for humour and sex in fiction.

We constantly ask readers what they want with Nexus, and with BL we’ve conducted surveys through our sexual fantasy books, upon which the guidelines are composed. They flood in from the websites every day. And fantasies tend to be very specific. So much so that it would be impossible to publish individual books about, say, medical procedures, pubic hair, special breeding farms, enforced cross-dressing by matronly aunts, corporal punishment in military academies, etc. And these are a small example of what we are asked for every week. All of the information we draw from our readers, from sexual media, and from those books that seem to get word-of-mouth and fly off the shelves, we process into a direction we hope is as representative as humanly possible. Nexus Enthusiast was a bold experiment to produce definitive books about one sole adult interest – so we did rubber, wife-swapping, CP, cross-dressing novels. We had readers writing in to say they were like their own autobiographies, or they would write in to say we’d missed things out: e.g. "the one about legs" featured a scene where a woman had sex bare-legged, which was unacceptable, and the one about bottoms didn’t describe the underside of a buttock enough, etc. So within each fetish, there are also subcultures, that are only interested in their one aspect of that kink. It could drive you mad. It was this experience that led me to encourage an author to invent a Victorian encyclopaedia of sexual perversion – Curious Pleasures: A Gentleman’s Collection of Beastliness. And it is wonderful. With BL, readers will say the titles are not hard enough, or that they go too far; others will say they don’t like two guys together, or two women together, another has written in to stress the importance of how sexy well-endowed stags are (It wasn’t me!- J) … See where I am going with this? Readers tend to be very specific about what they want at the expense of every one else. So it always tends to come down to the best writing about sex.

I’d also stress that a story and character that can become a vehicle for varied and plentiful sexual behaviour must always be a writer’s starting point. Then bring in a good broad set of experiences and fantasy. The rest is in the hands of the readers … But here is a clue: more is better than less, when it comes to sex. Writers often make the mistake of developing elaborate storylines, and huge casts of characters, into which the erotic elements feel contrived and shoe-horned in.

My local Borders has purged all the Black Lace books out of Romance and back into Erotica – apparently on head office orders. Is Black Lace ‘Erotica’ or ‘Erotic Romance’?

We moved it to romance in the UK temporarily, hoping to replicate the US model. It was a disaster. Romance readers are different here and erotica fans could not find our books in erotica, so it backfired. Black Lace is back in the erotica section to stay. Black Lace is erotica and erotic romance. Erotic Romance is as much a marketing and sales category to save Black Lace from oblivion in the wrong section of US bookshops, as it is a creative direction for some stories that follow conventional romance structure. One of the conventions in erotic romance is the HEA (happy ever after ending) and although a good Black Lace novel wouldn’t be rejected without one, it is a convenient and often appropriate way to end an erotic novel. It can really give the story a focus. When the girl and her object of desire (or objects) – irrespective of how many other lovers are encountered along the way – get together at last, it generally goes down well and achieves closure on an upbeat note. Nearly all popular female fiction is aspirational in a romantic sense, and we’d be foolish to deny that. I don’t know why this is seen as being a sell-out for erotica – it should not affect the action up until that point, nor the degree of explicitness. We can’t have ‘O’ dying under a table on a leash forever. Downbeat endings are not encouraged, unless you’re really clever. Too often, with proposals from new writers, the stories and characters are working out all kinds of self-loathing, self-harming fantasies, which is inappropriate for series fiction... and ER does not mean you can’t have hard sex on every other page.

Black Lace as an imprint empowered women to write and read about their own fantasies. It is still strictly female writers only. But here you are, a man in charge, telling us what we ought to be writing about. Any thoughts on that?

Here we go, he thinks with a smile. Yes, it’s girls only in terms of authorship in novels. I’m not sure I am telling you all what to write about either – I still use the guidelines on content that were handed to me by Kerri and I have accepted a wide range of stories and styles. I’d even say I’ve broadened the scope of BL. Though, as I’ve explained above, I have sometimes altered direction to meet market trends because this is a business. I’m not completely ignorant of female sexual fantasy either – in fact, I’ve probably read more examples of it in the last six years than most women do in a lifetime. I read it all day, every day. And I know the difference between ‘niche’ or ‘damaged’ and what’s arousing/interesting to a general reader. I also have to produce a balanced schedule (so can’t do seven titles in a row with exactly the same theme etc), and have to meet the expectations of the US, the UK, the international market, two sales forces, two sets of book trades. And every one has an opinion. If you read transcripts of some of our cover meetings in the past, you’d wonder why I never weighted myself down with bricks and slipped beneath the grey murk of the Thames.

On content, I sense a frustration on behalf of some writers. But there have been times in the past when ‘upstairs’ will step in and say, "two guys together and we could lose our place in romance in the mid-west", or "get rid of that bondage stuff, make it like …", etc so there have been episodes when we have discouraged certain themes that were at odds with where we wanted to get the books sold. But that’s mostly over now. (YAY!!!- J) I try and be inclusive without stifling creativity, and hope to stay true to BL’s legacy.

But guidelines are necessary – erotic fiction about rape under the influence of alcohol and drugs is not permissible. But I get so much of this. If a series of books that is dedicated to being about pleasure goes this route to satisfy a few writer’s personal visions, or need to shock, it’s curtains for us all. There is a difference between what is acceptable for literary writers to explore with taboos, and what erotica series fiction authors can explore with taboos. I’m not a censor, but occasionally I do have to step in. Make the books hard, daring, and action-packed, but make sure they are about pleasure too. The most common discrepancy is actually not an erotic scene or tone that contravenes guidelines, but a lack of sex in the finished delivered book. Or sometimes it’s the very same sexual fantasy over and over again in every scene (usually the mark of a straight romance writer masquerading on the dark side). Or too much wearisome chatter that goes on page after page (the blight of modern women’s popular fiction). If a writer does not have a natural affinity for pervery, kink and the erotic, the books are never as good. And often the most creative and sensitive and talented erotica authors also have the most idiosyncratic tastes. So my job isn’t easy. But some of the books I’ve published really are radical for this genre – Private Undoing and Split come to mind, let alone Enchanted.

What do you think Black Lace’s reputation/position is among readers, in the competitive international market?

We’re big in continental Europe and Scandinavia, and also throughout the Anglo-sphere. We are the market leaders. In the US, there are bigger fish that have come out of enormous romance enterprises, but we still hold our own as a British export.

In an ideal world, and if you had total control of the imprint, what would you change?

Cheeky. (Me - ask cheeky interview questions? Surely not! – J) I’d probably insist on a novel being finished before I commissioned it. I hate getting burned on the delivery of a manuscript after commissioning it from a proposal and three chapters. I’m a hands-on editor when I have time to be, and I’m a stickler with quality. Much can go wrong when an author gets a contract after writing only three chapters.

I like erotica covers to look serious and noirish and European, but am as close to that vision as I can be now with the new look.

And I’d command a huge marketing and publicity budget and your books would be advertised all over the tube.

What's the worst / funniest / most absurd proposal you've ever received? (You’re not going to answer that one, are you...)

The list is long as regards content and the madness of the writer (but I do keep a file). I tend to find the attitudes of aspiring writers more absurd – particularly those who can’t write, but tell me when I will publish their book, and what a great film it will make. They’ve never read BL and assume their work is just better than anything we have ever published.

Which part of your job do you like most and which part dislike most?

I like the writers, putting together a new series look, discovering talent, seeing a book do well, and reading something that suddenly gives me a shiver.

I dislike not having enough time. I am a perfectionist.

What's on your desk?

A blizzard of paper and piles of manuscripts around a dusty PC that gets called such names. I’ve never even had time to take down the postcards or notes left by my predecessors, or to replace the stationary. I just added one newspaper article with the headline, Down With Human Life. We get in, switch on, and then it’s heads down until we’re half blind. That’s erotica editorial.

What’s under your desk?

The Black Lace Sexual Fantasies questionnaires from the nineties and all the old samples from fetish photographers that I can’t bear to throw away. I love erotic photography. Plus all of the covers going back to the beginning – two copies of each. Beside that, dust, dried tears, and the odd paperclip.

When you do that scan-opening-of-submitted-writing thing that all busy editors do, what do you look for?

A good concise, legible covering letter, a simple outline and three chapters. It’s not rocket science, but accounts for about one in ten submissions. It’s amazing how impressive a succinct, intelligent letter can be, informing us that a writer has read our fiction and guidelines, and has written erotica before, and is a fan of erotica, and has written X to the right word limit. Self-important braying in a weird type-face, preceding 400K words of something about torture, or how an ex husband was a bastard, has the opposite effect.

What's your worst bug-bear in bad writing - the thing that really gets your goat?

Overwriting in sex scenes – a belief that if you fill a passage full of throbbings etc it’s good. It shows a total lack of respect for readers of erotica. I get it from agents too – here, your readers will love this "filth", one said to me recently. I doubt the agent had even read a word of their client’s work. I saw red.

Add a total ignorance of the craft and a failure to rewrite – ie first drafts that are dashed off and posted by big egos. It’s just a waste of everybody’s time.

And finally, a total ignorance of our imprints.

What's the thing you love most in good writing - something that thrills you when you see it?

A seamless integration of action with convincing dialogue and exposition – considered and inspired writing. To get that visceral tug inside when I know I am reading a real writer with a passion for the erotic.

What (non-erotica) do you enjoy reading in your personal time?

I read widely – lots of dark literary fiction, 20th century American fiction (Bellow, Updike, Doctorow, McCarthy etc), quality horror, classic supernatural fiction, books about writing and writers. Memoirs by soldiers and men tested by extremes of late.

Do you get horny reading our stuff? Ever? Oh come on, surely occasionally...?

There are times when I do feel a pleasing tremor run up and down my spine, after a button has been pushed. I’m only human.

Thank you Adam for giving us so much of your time - and for being so candid and informative. It's much appreciated!

Thank you for having me, and I’m sorry it’s taken me about a year to finish this interview.

Friday, September 5, 2008

Coming attractions: Publishing Week!

Ladies (and gentlemen), we are proud to present...

Mr...

Black...

Lace!

Cue music from Chicago as Mr BL rocks onto the stage....

Okay, that's not our editor. We live lives of inordinate blessed luck and luxury, but that isn't, really, our editor. Then again, this is:



As the saying goes, "You can edit me any--" No! Stop! Don't say that! Because this week is all about professionalism. Filthy fillies we may be, but publishing's a business and the European Union spends a lot of hard man-hours banning exactly the sort of thing I just didn't say. (And if you can think of a better use for hard man hours, suggestions to the EU on a postcard.) So welcome to the week on the publishing industry...

On Monday, Janine Ashbless interviews Mr Black Lace, aka Our Editor, aka HQ, aka Adam Neville - whose frankness and generosity with inside information will make eye-opening reading for anyone wanting to get published, never mind with Black Lace.

On Wednesday, Olivia Knight looks at living the dream & writing full-time - the thrills, the terrors, and the tax forms, with a few tips for anyone looking to quit the day job.

On Friday, we're squeaking with delight to welcome back two familiar names, as guests: Kristina Lloyd and Mathilde Madden, who're poring over erotica covers, the subject of their new specialist blog.

Friday, August 29, 2008

Smut Slot - Wildwood

by Janine Ashbless

This picture of Holly is by my old mate Ian Stobie, and suits Wildwood exactly. Used with permission.

Did you know, it's exactly a year since I last claimed the Smut Slot? Well today I'm delighted to offer an excerpt from my latest novel Wildwood, a tale of contemporary magic. If you want some more info about the plot you can catch up here, but for this excerpt all you need to know is that Avril has just been out for a memorable first date with her boss, Michael, and now he's driving her home.



We didn’t talk as we drove back. I mean, in the circumstances, what was there I could say? In the glow of the dashboard light Michael’s face was only dimly visible, but I assumed he wore an expression of satisfaction. His white shirt seemed almost phosphorescent.

He’d had a complete change of clothing and a first-aid kit waiting back at the car. He’d daubed his cuts and bites with antiseptic and they seemed to have stopped bleeding. No marks showed on the new shirt.

As we drew nearer home he broke the silence to enquire, ‘Back to your place, or to my hotel?’

‘You can drop me off at the bottom gate of the Grange.’ My voice was raspy with rage.

He didn’t reply, but he took the turnings obediently enough and soon drew up outside the locked iron gates, pulling across the road to park in the little lay-by. He didn’t switch the engine off. The curve of the wall and the bars of the gate were the only objects visible; beyond the cast of the dipped headlights the night was totally black. I didn’t care; I’d far rather walk on my own across the estate grounds than spend any more time in his company.

‘You seem angry, Avril,’ he said as I grabbed for the handle.

‘Angry?’ I glared at him as the interior light came on. ‘What could I possibly be angry about? Well - I suppose there is the emotional blackmail. That’s the sort of thing that might make some people angry.’

His expression was mild. ‘You had a choice. I promised you that.’

‘Yes.’ I slid down onto the road. ‘And I should have let them rip you apart.’ Then I slammed the door on him. But I was at a disadvantage; the estate gate was over on the driver’s side of the vehicle, and the road around here was all loose gravel chippings, so I had to stop and put my shoes back on. By the time I crossed in front of the bonnet he was out too, waiting for me. Half-blinded by the headlights, I nearly walked into him. He caught my wrists. I went rigid.

‘Avril.’ He was standing very close; so close that our bodies were nearly touching. I could feel the warmth radiating from his torso, and smell his skin. He inclined his head so that he could murmur in my ear, and I felt the caress of his breath: ‘If you should have, then why didn’t you?’ His voice was soft and throaty and it made all the hairs stand up on my neck.

I didn’t reply. I didn’t shrug him off or pull away, though my muscles were locked with tension. I let him take my earlobe softly between his teeth and nip at my flesh. I let him put his finger on my cheek and then draw it along my jaw and then down my throat and breastbone, very gently. I couldn’t see him at all; the headlights were blinding, but I could feel his excitement. It was like electricity leaping the tiny gap between our bodies. Though I stayed rigid I let him turn me to face the front of the car and then, holding me from behind, put my hands on the warm vibrating hood. He moved slowly, with great deliberation. Giving me time to know exactly what was going on.

See: I had the choice.

‘Spread your legs,’ he said softly. And I obeyed. I put my ankles apart. My calves were already taut in those unaccustomed high heels. Michael leaned into me firmly, spreading my arms wider too, so that I was tilted forward, my bum sticking out. I could feel the hard bulge of his erection nudging my buttock. Then he stood back, just looking at me. Granting me time to comprehend my surrender. ‘Good girl.’

My legs were trembling. My heart was turning somersaults. You bastard, I thought.

Then he lifted my skirt and laid it over my back, exposing my naked sex to the night. I could feel the breeze on my most intimate flesh. I could picture how I must look to him very clearly: all long legs and heart-shaped ass, my face and torso in shadow. Just my pert out-thrust cheeks and the dusky teardrop of the sex that they framed, soft and sweet and defenceless. I wasn’t in the most pristine of states given our earlier activities; my placket was still puffy and slick with moisture. But as he stood there examining me I felt a sudden gush of new warmth and I knew that I was creaming up for him all over again. I was glad then that it was dark, because my face was burning with humiliation.

Firmly, Michael cupped my pussy in his hand and squeezed. My juiciness was only too apparent. Still it did not seem to be enough to satisfy him: he spent some time adjusting my stance, spreading my bum-cheeks with his hands, running his fingers up the deep cleft and over my buttocks and through the slippery petals of my sex. He stroked the tight iris of my anus until I whimpered, feeling myself yield. There was nothing I could hide from him, and when I heard the sound of his flies being opened I knew that there was nothing I would not let him have.
I wanted him to fuck me.

I wanted his cock so much that when he put it to the wet lips of my sex and pushed bluntly into me I sobbed in relief. And Michael heard and understood perfectly: ‘Yes. There it is; it’s okay,’ he murmured. ‘You’re all right now. You’ve got it.’
I had to bite my lip to hold back the tears of gratitude.

He fucked me very thoroughly, his hands on my hips, his groin slapping into my backside. He made no attempt to touch my clit. This wasn’t about making me come, I understood: this was about him taking his pleasure of me - and it was about me loving that. It was about restoring the balance of power between us to the place it had been at the start. Where he liked it.

When I heard the sound of a car engine coming toward us I quivered and almost tried to break position. Michael put one hand on the centre of my back and pushed me down firmly against the hot steel. I didn’t fight, but sweat broke out all over my skin; inwardly I writhed. What if they recognise us? I howled inwardly. What if they’re local to the Grange and they know exactly who we are and they see me being fucked by my boss; fucked from behind; fucked like a cheap slut in my shiny high-heels on a public road?

Gradually the sweep of their headlights over the beetling hedges pushed back the night. They were going to come up on us from behind, I realised. There was no chance they’d miss us behind the bulk of the 4x4. They were going to pin us in their headlights and see exactly what was going on; Deverick’s hands biting into my bum as he rammed his meat rhythmically into my willing snatch. I whimpered and thrust back against him; he quickened his pace, his breath coming hard and shallow.

They were coming. There they were. The night was split asunder by light and the roar of the motor was suddenly on top of us as they emerged round the bend. As the headlights swept over us I saw for an interminable moment my hands spread wide on the bonnet and my face reflected in our windscreen, eyes wide and mouth slack. The humiliation was too much to bear; I came, crying out. And as my sex clenched and my arse bucked Michael filled me to overflowing.

Then the car had swept past us. For a moment its brake-lights glowed a frantic crimson, and in the midst of the pulsations of pleasure and shame I wondered if it were about to stop and the passengers leap out for a longer look. Then it was gone around another bed, and we were alone again.

Without any hurry Michael withdrew, wiping his turgid prick on my buttocks before tidying himself away. I didn’t move. Not until there was a soft flash of light and he leaned back over me to show me the screen of his cell phone and the close-up picture he’d just taken of my rear. It was a small screen but the definition was good; you couldn’t miss the glisten on those plumped-up lips that made it clear this anonymous gash had just been well used. ‘For personal use,’ he said as he flipped my skirt back down over my bum.

Perhaps he meant to be reassuring. There wasn’t really anything I could say to him. Dumbly I turned away, my heels wobbly on the granite chippings as I fumbled for the keypad of the electronic lock on the gate. I heard the engine growl as he slipped his car into gear and eased back onto the road, leaving me to open the gate and set off down the drive in nearly complete darkness. I welcomed it. I welcomed the silence. I wanted to be invisible.

Michael’s calling card slipped wetly down the inside of my thighs as I walked home.



Want to win a copy of Wildwood - as Recommended by Dark Angel Reviews? Thanks to the lovely people in the Black Lace office I have an extra copy to give away this week! All you need do is drop a comment on this post: I'll pick a random winner and announce it in Coming Attractions this Sunday.

xxx

Janine

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