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."

Promo movie here (NSFW)

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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

website : blog

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.

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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.

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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

Buy Wildwood at Amazon UK : Pre-order Wildwood at Amazon US

blog : website

Wildwood - out this week

by Janine Ashbless

My new Black Lace novel Wildwood is out in the UK this Thursday! It’s a contemporary paranormal about rival ritual magicians, the English countryside, scary fairies, a love-triangle and of course SEX. Lots of that. And by the end, well, I haven’t brought human civilisation to crashing ruin but let’s just say it’s not far off.

So here I am to tell you a bit about this novel in the hope you’ll rush out and buy it … Or at the very least enter the draw below to win a copy.

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Personal Background to writing Wildwood:

This isn’t something I’ve talked about online before, but about 15 years back I went through a fairly serious bout of depression ("Fairly serious" as in, I didn’t actually end up dead). This is far from uncommon – especially, I suspect, among creative types. Luckily I had a doctor who told me to change my life and a partner who supported me in doing so. I quit my well-paid job and swore I’d never work in an office again.

As I recovered I decided I needed to work outdoors, so I got into practical conservation volunteering, attained my chainsaw certification, and finally launched into a 3-year diploma course in Amenity Forestry – looking after trees in parks, gardens and cities.

This was just a little weird because I was the oldest person on the course, the only female and the only one with any sort of prior college background. I had to keep up with a bunch of 18-year old lads putting up fences, climbing ropes, and cutting down trees. Oh, and swearing. Boy did my spoken language suffer! I learned a lot about what I could make myself do in the face of fear and exhaustion, if I was determined. And I came out at the end with the "best on the course" prize and a serious need to stop using the word "fuck" as punctuation.

Did I end up with a long-term career in woodland conservation like I planned? Did I hell. Those jobs are rare as hens’ teeth. I moved into museum work and then finally became a writer, where at last I feel at home.

But when it came to writing Wildwood I could draw on my knowledge and love for trees, and I could write the character of Avril – individualistic, determined, aware she stands out like a sore thumb - and quite possibly Black Lace’s only chainsaw-wielding romantic heroine. Of course she’s taller, stronger, cuter, tougher and less geeky than me, but that’s what fantasy fiction is about!

"You crave respect, Avril, but at the same time you want to be the most monumental slut." – Michael Deverick

The Plot:

Avril Shearing is a landscape gardener and arborist brought in to restore an overgrown country estate for the handsome and manipulative Michael Deverick. He seems very keen on her exploring a particular patch of ancient woodland for him.

But inside the wood lurks a tribe of environment activists led by the enigmatic Ash, who regards Michael as a mortal enemy. Avril soon discovers that there is more going on than meets the eye. Creatures that belong in dreams or nightmares emerge after dark to prowl the estate grounds, and hidden in the heart of the wood is something that Michael wants at any cost and Ash is determined to keep him away from. The two men are ritual magicians locked in a deadly battle for the Wildwood, and as Avril is drawn into their fight it becomes a battle for Avril herself.

And she wants them both. She disapproves of Michael but is drawn into his mindgames and can’t resist his sexual hunger despite her better judgement. She really likes Ash but he keep pushing her away and sends the most incredibly mixed messages – at one moment they are in each other’s arms but the next he treats her as an enemy.

How far will Michael go to get his way? Which man will she choose? And what lies in the heart of the Wildwood that is so important – to everyone?




The Men of The Wildwood

This is my photo-model for Michael Deverick – a wealthy stockmarket trader and 200-year-old magus. He believes in a world without rules. Vain, clever, manipulative and absolutely ruthless, he makes it his mission to push Avril’s boundaries, whatever they are. If there’s something she doesn’t want to do, he is determined to change her mind.

Good points: generous, sexually inventive, GSOH.

Bad points: he kills people who get in his way.

Michael in Action:

But when he arrived on my doorstep an hour later there was a woman with him. At least, it looked like a woman at first.

‘Who’s this?’ I demanded.

Michael leaned casually against the door so that she could slip past me. She was short – only up to my shoulder – and slight, with long black hair that looked like it had just come out of a swimming pool. ‘This is … Jenny. You can call her that.’ He stalked into the hallway. ‘I found her by the pond.’

‘What are you playing at?’ I was wearing only a light silk dressing-gown, which I wrapped around me self-consciously as I followed them back into the house. ‘Did you hear a single bloody word I said?’

‘Oh, I heard.’ Michael stood in the middle of my living room floor. Jenny had climbed onto one end of the sofa and was watching us from under hooded lids. She was wearing a dark green slip dress that seemed to be wringing wet even though I was certain it wasn’t raining out there. ‘You are extremely clear about the things you want. You’d like nice, fun, discreet sex with someone you like, who’ll treat you with respect and never ever interfere with the rest of your life. Am I right?’

My jaw sagged. ‘So why do you go out of your way to do just the opposite?’

Michael gave an infuriating smirk. ‘Do I?’

‘You know you do.’

‘And do you enjoy that bad sex with me?’

‘I hate it.’ My voice didn’t carry much conviction.

‘So much that you can’t wait for the next time. So much that you’d get on your hands and knees and beg for it if I told you to. You’re wet right now, and all I’ve done is walk into the house.’ He walked around me, hands in his pockets, and I couldn’t refute him. ‘What does that tell you about what you really want, Avril? What does that tell you about your rules?’

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t look him in the eye.

‘The barriers are all in your mind, Avril. You don’t need to fear what’s on the other side. All I’m doing is helping you break out.’

‘Right. They used to have a word for that.’

‘Liberation?’

‘Corruption.’

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This is Ash, the tattooed "ginger Rasta" who is camped out in the Wildwood, trying to defend its secret from Michael. He’s a ritual magician too, and a lot older than he looks, and very conflicted. Not unnaturally he suspects that Avril is a tool of his enemy, being used against him magically, so despite being desperately attracted to her he can’t trust her. On the other hand, she is his only hope to defeat Michael so he has to persuade her to his side...

Good points: he’s trying to save the world, even if it kills him.

Bad points: a bit self-righteous

Ash in Action:

It didn’t deter him from his mission of taking me back to my cottage. He didn’t ask permission this time to enter, either, steering me right through to the bathroom. My blood leaped hopefully as he reached over and turned on the shower. ‘You’ve got to wash, Avril.’

‘Join me?’ I suggested, easing off my shoes.

Ash smiled and shook his head. ‘Come on.’

I stuck my lower lip out and backed up against the door-frame, refusing to oblige. I wanted to feel his hands on me and his skin against mine; there was an ache like hunger in my belly. ‘Make me,’ I said with a quick grin.

With a sigh, Ash began to slip the shirt buttons down my breastbone. I didn’t resist. I bit my lip and watched his face, fascinated, as he undressed me. He was acting like a responsible bloke looking after a very drunk female friend, all detached self-deprecating concern. I liked that, in a strange way. I liked the gentleness of his hands too, and the way he took his time. I liked the way he had to keep reminding himself to look away from my breasts as he slid the shirt off my shoulders and undid the webbing belt cinched at my waist. I liked the line of his lips and the fall of his hair against his cheek and the glint of the rings in the red-gold of his eyebrow. I wanted so much to touch him. But I didn’t dare, not after the mess I’d made of things last time.

Out of nowhere, tears welled up in my eyes. Christ; I am drunk, I thought in amazement.

The bathroom was starting to fill with steam.

Softly he let the trousers slip down from my hips and pool on my feet. There I was standing against the doorframe, naked but for my wine-red knickers, yet it was the desire in my expression that was the most shamelessly naked thing about me. His fingertips brushed my hip and he caught his breath. As he lifted his eyes to mine I saw my longing mirrored there, its edge as keen and cruel as my own.

‘Avril.’ The word was inaudible; I saw only the movement of his lips.

Oh God - I was on the verge of begging, and I mustn’t do that. ‘I dream about you,’ I told him, and something flickered in the depths of his eyes.

‘Do you?’

‘Do dreams matter?’

‘They can do. Depends what you dream.’

‘I dream we’re in the wood. It’s always the wood. Why’s that?’

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So that’s Wildwood. It seems to have taken forever to have got to the shops, but I’m so proud to see it finally born! I’ll be running a longer, hotter excerpt in our August Smutslot on the 29th, but if you can’t wait there is an rather rude excerpt (featuring more of Jenny-from-the-pond) here in my blog archive. Or you could always buy the book…

Buy on Amazon UK : Pre-order on Amazon US

If you read and like it, please do me a favour and post an Amazon review!

Competition! I have one copy of Wildwood to give away this week. Just drop a comment on this post telling me which is your favourite tree and by the weekend I’ll pick a random winner.

xxx
Janine

Blog : Website