No Holds "Barred"....

She's heeeeere! She's here!

How's my hair? Is my lipstick smudged? Did I put out enough wine?

(Ok, just breathe. Everything is fine.)

Why the fuss? you ask. Why are there throw pillows on the floor, 80's tunes in the background, and all that  tequila?

Didn't you see the title today?

We have a very, VERY special guest.


Well, you know I've been bragging on her and pimping her out and playing with her for YEARS now. And finally, she's come to visit. So of course, everything has to be perfect.

Hotties & heaux, pour yourself a drink, whether a shot or two or a glass of merlot, kick off those stilettos and get comfy.

Here to talk about ... bars and their affect on her writing, is the literary siren herself, our very own Trollop with a Laptop, and the very reason so many of us are even published in this genre,


ALISON TYLER.

********

Banging Rebecca really starts behind a bar. A venue, it’s called. A club. A Pico Blvd. nightspot. But it’s a bar. And I like bars. 

If you’ve read more than a handful of my stories, you’ve probably guessed this fact. Off the top of my head, the following stories of mine mention—or are set in—bars: 

Last Call—in Morning, Noon, and Night:  

I want the bartender to close and lock the front door of the bar. “What happens in The Local, stays in The Local,” I want some wiseass to say. There will be laughter, of the nervous variety, and the men will try not to look into each other’s eyes. Because what we’re going to do here is a gangbang, and brother, when you say that word aloud, people get jittery. 

***** 

Sitting Pretty—in Bound for Trouble:  

Let’s discuss the placement. Positions are extremely important. I’m not talking in bed—doggy-style, missionary, or otherwise—but positions in the bar. 

***** 

The Pick-Up Artist—in Gritty:  

Valentine’s Day at a singles bar. Life doesn’t get much lonelier than that. Flirty paper hearts were stuck to the mirror on the back of the bar. Shiny cupids dangled on fishing wire over head. Keith eyed the girls in their frippery and finery—so much scarlet, fuchsia, and pink. The bartender was pouring carnation-colored Cosmos and cardinal-hued Sea Breezes—anything with a bit of cranberry juice or grenadine. Keith asked for vodka—clear, not pink—and scanned the room. 

***** 

Cubed—in Cuffed:  

I turned to gaze into the corner of the bar, where the cowboy was pointing. I don’t know why I looked. I know what shop teachers look like, and I also knew what this man looked like. He had short silver hair and the type of jaw made for a razor commercial, so different from the cowboy with his baby face and his wheat-blonde wave. The quiet man in the corner and I had been trading glances all evening— I’d felt his eyes on me, felt his interest. The cowboy must have, too, which is why he’d tossed out the insult. 

So why do I hang out in bars? Oh, you think you’re so smart with your “tequila” answer ready right there next to your lime and salt. And yes, I do like a shot with the ends of my days. But one of my favorite pastimes is people watching, and bars provide the perfect opportunity. Rebecca watched Sean at the bar. He could feel her watching him: 

…that very first night, he was up with me. Up in the alley behind the Pico Boulevard venue, pressing against me, pawing his way into my little black satin shorts, flicking open the silver buttons on my buffalo plaid shirt with a dynamic rhythm.  

I could almost hear the drum beat in my head. 

“Saw you in the front row,” he told me, mouth to my ear, hot breath on my skin. “I knew you saw me, too.” 

Of course, what happens behind the bar…well, that’s when the fun begins. 

XXX, 

Alison 

Called a “Trollop with a Laptop” by East Bay Express and “a hell of a writer” by Violet Blue, Alison Tyler is naughty and she knows it. Her sultry short stories have appeared in more than 100 anthologies. She is the author of more than 25 erotic novels, most recently Dark Secret Love, and the editor of more than 75 explicit anthologies. Visit alisontyler.blogspot.com 24/7 as she’s a total insomniac.

***AND, kidlets, if you haven't kinked up your Kindle with a copy of Banging Rebecca yet, hop over to Amazon and grab one. Not only will you get a sexy short, you'll help this lovely lady hit her 50,000 goal. So GO. Now. ***