Well, according to the online Oxford Dictionary, it is defined as:
v. to kiss and cuddle amorously
(18+ ONLY Please)
It's all about SEX.
And all about ME.
MY fantasies, MY desires, MY longings...
And you know what?
IT FEELS GOOD.
Fact? Or fiction? As long as it's HOT, does it matter?
I didn't think so.
So, as usual, I'm late getting this up. LOL. Story of my life.
Round six of Alison Tyler's Smut Marathon, is up and running. The voting ends at midnight on Sunday. Which means you still have three days to go and see which conversation would get your blood boiling, in a good way.
Anyone who's been following Alison knows that our little Trollop is a voyeur at heart. And she picks up the most random bits of conversation and turns them into incredible tales. So our assignment this time around was to work eavesdropping into our stories - and tell what happens next.
250 words. If you've been reading me often, you know that I often curse the flash story. It takes way more talent than I have to turn in something that is interesting in 250 words. And, if you're a writer like me, you tend to be a tad verbose when setting a scene.
That being said, follow the link above to check out the six remaining contestants. And be sure to vote. And then tell your friends. And make sure they vote.
You know the drill.
(I went through all the summer songs I could think of, but this one stuck with me as truly a Sommer song)
All right y'all.
It's mid-July. The weather gets hot, sticky, humid (and sometimes all three at once). It's summertime and it's all about having fun, swimming (skinny-dipping?), sitting on the deck with a cold brew, some good tunes and amazing friends, and enjoying the sunshine, the late sunsets and the starry nights.
It's also time to relax and catch up on some good reading. Now that don't necessarily mean Game of Thrones (no offence to George RR Martin - I'm mid book one myself). It could be quick, light, fun and sexy. Which, to be honest, in the summer, it's what I prefer. I like to leave the heavy stuff for long winter nights, with a fireplace and a hot toddy. (Winter is coming....right?)
And no one does light, fun, quick and sexy better than the group of authors who've put together Summer Loving. Spearheaded by Tasmin Flowers, and pushed along and edited by - who else? - Alison Tyler, this particular collection was put together to help our favourite season, Sommer Marsden.
A quick re-cap on how this came about. Our lovely Sommer, who does so much for other people and barely anything for herself, got poleaxed by some incredibly bad news last year. To her credit, she's been as much of a rock as anyone could be in this situation. But like all bad news, it comes with financial issues. I wrote a bit about Sommer's trials and tribulations here.
As Sommer has done before for others, Tasmin thought we will now do for her. So she got together with Alison, and together they put the call out to the erotica community for submissions for a special anthology. All proceeds, and I do mean ALL, go towards helping Sommer's family. All stories have been donated by the amazing authors.
Admittedly, I procrastinated. It wasn't that I didn't want to contribute, it's that I was completely swamped and caught up in real life drama. Alison, in her generous way, asked me to contribute by penning the foreword. I was - and am - honoured to be able to be a small part of this project. And the foreword? Man, I'll NEVER be asked to do one of those again. I almost cried.
So, fast forward a year and a bit, and here we are. Summer Loving is now out as an e-book, and ready to be purchased, read and enjoyed. And right now, it's on sale. A whole $0.69! Can you believe that?
If you're looking for the table of contents, check out Alison's post here.
And check out this cover! Is that totally retro sexy or what? The amazingly talented Willsin Rowe was the genius behind it.
As the 2013 Tony Awards drew to a close, I sat there, on the couch, thinking to myself how wonderful it would be to be in the audience and witness the best of the best on Broadway get awarded for their hard work.
And then I thought to myself - well, why can't I?
Hence, my ultimate trip to NYC started being planned. I got online with my BFF of 30-some-odd years and said "Let's celebrate being fabulous and 40 in our Mecca." Having never traveled together, and with our birthdays a mere 35 days apart, we figured it would be the perfect trip.
I spent a year conversing with old friends in New York, surfing for places to stay, and eagerly awaiting the moment that the 2014 Tony tickets went on sale. I planned and researched and bought tickets and would spend hours dreaming and plotting the ultimate birthday trip.
The day I was to fly out of Toronto to New York was a sunny one. I was packed, prepped and had everything in place.
I checked in to my flight the night before. Done.
My stomach was a bundle of nerves as I approached the airport. In the last 20 years, I'd only ever driven across the border. It was to be a short flight - and I loved flying - but I was still apprehensive. I tend to babble and say the wrong thing at the most inopportune times.
I got my boarding pass and was eagerly anticipating passing through customs so I could finally have a coffee - which I opted not to get before going through because handling a hot coffee and two bags was a juggling task I would not have excelled at.
The first round of customs couldn't clear me. I couldn't figure out why, but wasn't phased. I went to the second stage. And I waited. And I watched the clock. And I waited some more. I wasn't worried. There was still plenty of time to catch my flight. Finally, my name was called. I went up, I was respectful. I answered all the questions asked of me truthfully and honestly. They took my fingerprints, which, again, didn't set off any bells, as I hadn't flown into the US post 9/11 as of yet, so I didn't think it was a bad thing.
Until my luggage tag was ripped off my suitcase. Well, to me that just meant I was going to miss my flight and I would catch the next one out. No big deal. I refused to panic. This was my vacation and it was going to be glorious.
And then the customs officer said those words.
"I'm sorry, but we cannot allow you to enter the United States."
I fell to my knees, my eyes welling up with tears, and my breath refusing to come. A year of planning, of even GOING to the US periodically, and suddenly I wasn't allowed? I didn't understand.
The culprit was two shoplifting charges from TWENTY YEARS AGO. According to the US border patrol, these are crimes of "moral turpitude" and as such would prevent me from entering the country.
Yes, I do have those charges on me. But, as I pointed out, they were TWENTY YEARS AGO. They occurred during a pretty dark time in my life. I've been clear ever since. For God's sake, I've been coming and going from the United States at least once a year for the last twenty. But because I flew, they now are aware of this charge, and I am no longer allowed to enter.
I begged to speak to a supervisor. I pleaded with tears running down my face, and my breath coming in sobs. But she wouldn't allow me to. She just said that the answer would be the same, and sent me on my way.
After informing my travel companion (who was leaving the next day) of the problem, she came and got me and took me to the US Consulate. Where I was informed that only the border patrol can take care of this issue.
A call to a lawyer who specializes in this, and $300 later (for the phone consultation), he offered to file a parole form on my behalf, but it would cost $1500 to do that, and another $1500 if he succeeded. Well, there was no way I could afford that. So, I did what every grown up would do - I printed out my receipts for my Tony tickets, the correspondence with the Broadway Across America people (for the Tony tickets) and my credit card statement as well. And then my mother and I drove down to the border, hoping to find someone who was willing to listen.
When I managed to speak to someone, I was informed that the parole forms the lawyer was talking about were only issued for humanitarian reasons - ie/ a family member dying or dead in the US and a funeral to attend. I almost lost all hope, but the gentleman was willing to listen, and to speak to his supervisor. It then went one level higher, and after three hours of pleading my case, examination of my documents and discussion, I was allowed to go. I had a parole for the length of my trip, plus a day in case there were return travel issues.
I was incredibly grateful. This trip meant the world to me, and I would be able to see one of my dreams come true.
But now, if I ever want to travel to the US again, I need to get what is called a waiver. Which involves gathering my court records (again, twenty years old), a background check, a fingerprint card, a written statement from me about how I've "rehabilitated" (like all this time without incident isn't enough), and $585 US. Once I have all that, it has to be approved. This process could take anywhere from six to twelve months, AND the waiver could be valid from one month to five years. Which means that whenever they decide it's up, I have to do it ALL. OVER. AGAIN.
What equals to two misdemeanors in the US means I have this label on me for the rest of my life, unless I manage to secure a pardon. And apparently those can only come from the President or a US governor. Never mind that a pardon in Canada means NOTHING to them.
So that means no more weekend trips with the family to Buffalo for shopping. No more trips to Disney or anywhere in Florida, where the memories of good times with my father are very strong and prevalent. No trips to catch a musical on Broadway, or even to see good friends.
Meanwhile, there are shootings all over the United States, people sneaking over the border from Mexico, and people with WORSE criminal records than mine being let in on a daily basis.
If I had just driven to Buffalo or taken the bus to NYC, this wouldn't be an issue. As I've pointed out, I've been down and back at least once a year for the last twenty. But because I decided to fly, my entire traveling future is limited.
I think the United States government has a lot more to worry about than a person who made two little mistakes. My government has chosen to look past it. My employers have chosen to look past it, recognizing that while I wasn't technically a child, I was still young, and learning my way in the world.
So, now I have to decide if it's worth it at all. And there's a part of me saying no. But then I remember all the good times I might be missing out on, and the memorable places I'll never get to see again. And then that part of me says yes.
Fantasized by Miz Angell at 12:20 PM
It's time for Round 4 of Alison's Smut Marathon. For those of you that have been playing along, I've managed - through the grace of God and lovely voters - to stay in the game.
For those who haven't, well, here are links to the first three rounds. Obviously voting is over, but don't deprive yourself of some wonderful reading.
Round One - Once Upon A Time challenge. Pen an opening line. Just one. We all know how important that opening line can be when grabbing a readers attention.
Round Two - Take two. Using a line from the previous challenge, one other than your own, pen a 250 word story start. The line didn't have to be the opening one, just as long as it was in there. Talk about tough!
Round Three - The musical challenge. To write 300 words inspired by a song, any song, but not to reveal what it was (silly me - my song title wound up being the title of the piece - D'OH!)
And now here we are at Round Four. For this round, Alison gave us this story as inspiration. There is no summing it up - well, I'll try anyway. Cindy Sherman, artist, found this note card in a trove of old photos that she had bought in a junk shop some years ago. It's an interesting card, a telling of a lovers deception discovered before her marriage was to take place.
Her challenge was for us to pen a "notecard" that would intrigue someone enough to keep it around for almost a century, to be found by a treasure hunter, such as Cindy.
So go on over, take a look, and as you read, imagine which one you would pick up years later, and wonder...
what's the story behind the note?
Well, not the way you're thinking. Not yet anyway. :P
What I mean is, it's time to brag. Once again, Alison Tyler has seen fit to include me in one of her amazing projects.
Back in 2008 (wow - has it really been THAT long?), a snippet of mine appeared in her guide for couples Never Have the Same Sex Twice. The book was intended to use as a tool to put the spark back in the bedroom. There were stories from amazing authors such as Sommer Marsden, Thomas S. Roche, Jeremy Edwards, and Kristina Lloyd, to go with chapters of advice from the number one Trollop - Alison herself.
It was in such great demand that she decided to do another one. This time around, Never Say Never picks up where the first left off...which was somewhere off the beaten path. Alison is a huge believer in the practice of monogamous kink, which is to say that just because you're with the same partner, it doesn't mean that you have to keep having the same sex. (Hence the titles). Like it's predecessor, it's not a step-by-step guide on what to do, but rather advice on how to let your imagination guide you and your partner into some incredibly sexy scenarios. And, following the tips, an erotic example (fictitious of course *wink wink*) of what can be done.
Amazing authors such as Sommer Marsden, Kristina Lloyd, Shanna Germain, Thomas S. Roche, and Teresa Noelle Roberts, along with a host of others (I wrote hots initially, because, really I do have the hots for them all - they're brilliant!), make up the TOC this time around.
I'm incredibly proud to say that I'm not just a snippet in this book, but I'm a whole story! My contribution Bring Me the Dark, is included in the chapter on Exhibitionism.
Here's a little taste (tee-hee - you'll get the joke in a minute)
“Mrs. Miller? Welcome to Le Chat Noir.” My panties got damp. Dining in the dark. The newest trend at the hottest spot in town. She put my hand on her shoulder and led me inside the pitch black room. I could hear others around us, chewing, talking, and giggling softly. Without my sight, it was kind of scary, but very sensual at the same time.
“Stand here for just one moment please.” I felt an absence of presence, if that makes any sense. I realized it was dark, but it felt like everyone was staring at me anyway. I felt very vulnerable. It must have only been a few seconds, but it seemed like forever until a pair of unseen hands grasped my waist and guided me into a chair.
“I hope you don’t mind.” Daniel’s breath was warm on my ear. “I took the liberty of ordering for you.” His voice was husky and had my heart doing flip flops. “Of course I don’t mind. Daniel, this is ...”
He cut me off with a kiss. A tender, moist, slow kiss that had my toes curling. A wine glass was pressed into my hand. The full bodied liquid trickled down my throat, and I felt around for the table. After placing it down, and making sure it was far enough away from the edge, I reached out, sensing Daniel’s body heat. My hand landed high up on his thigh, and he placed it higher, allowing me to feel his hard cock beneath his dress pants.
My pussy twitched. “Thank you for the lovely lingerie. It’s very beautiful.” His voice was knowing and evil. “Oh it’s more than beautiful my dear. It’s got a dual purpose.”
I gasped as my clit began pulsing. So that’s what the disc inside was. He bought me vibrating panties. And obviously, he had the remote.
I almost came right then and there. The pulsing changed to a light steady vibe, and then shut off. "Surprise.” I heard the waiter come up behind me.
“Please make sure the area in front of you is clear. Scallops for your appetizer.” His hand brushed against the side of my breast as he set the plate down. My body tingled in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with the remote control.
Now, I'm not an official blog-tour stop, so for those, head on over to - yep, you guessed it - Alison's blog and start from the very beginning. *grin* For us Canucks, I can't think of a better way to start the long weekend. Yes, the long weekend. An extra day to stay in bed and...
well, if you need ideas, check out the book.