Category Archives: erotica
It’s coming soon, I promise. In the homestretch…
In spite of his directive to Camilla and her willingness to comply Sam didn’t want to embarrass her. After they parked at the restaurant he went around to the Mini’s driver’s door and opened it for her. He stood in the door opening, shielding her as best he could as he looked around, scanning the parking lot for eyes that might see them.
The restaurant sat in strip mall between a 24-hour gym and a dry cleaner. Being the lunch hour, most of the foot traffic near them was headed to or from the restaurant. No one seemed to notice them. The coast was as clear as it was going to get.
“Okay,” he said.
Camilla swung her legs out of the car. Sam’s heart lurched as she yanked her dress up her thighs and lifted her bottom off the seat.
He looked around again, but in his heightened state of excitement and apprehension saw nothing.
Behind him Camilla stood up, pulling his attention back to her. She bumped the car door closed with her hip and said, “I’m ready now.” She looked and sounded happy.
As they headed for the restaurant entry Camilla brushed her hand against his. Sam thought she wanted to hold hands, but when he took hers she pressed something soft and silky against his palm. He knew what it was, and a glance confirmed it. The underwear she’d taken off was a red lace thong.
He stuffed her panties into his jeans pocket and took her hand as they crossed the parking lot. “They felt a little moist,” he said.
Without breaking stride Camilla leaned and pecked him on the cheek. A few eyes cut their way. “That’s your fault sir,” she smiled. “I’m ripe enough to burst.”
They reached the restaurant entry just behind a group of suited men and women probably on lunch break from their office. The last man in the group, a blonde, thirtyish Ken doll with a haughty too busy for peons because I own the world manner gave Camilla an appreciative once-over as he held the door for her.
Camilla cooed, “Thank you” to Ken.
Ken smiled at her, flashing his inhumanly brilliant teeth. “You’re very welcome.”
Walking behind Camilla, Sam reached over her shoulder and took over holding the door for her. He said “Thanks” to the Ken doll.
Ken’s eyes darted from Camilla to Sam and back to Camilla. His smile changed to a false one—one Sam had seen all too often in his life. Ken’s smile said, Hey, I’m not racist. See how I’m still smiling even though you’re with a black guy?
Okay, they were in another city in another state. No one knew them. Sam decided to see if he could push two buttons at once: one for spite and one for fun. From behind Camilla he leaned to her ear and just loud enough for Ken to hear said, “What if I told you no more playing with yourself until the month’s over? Would you do it?”
Without missing a beat Camilla said, “I wouldn’t like it sir, but if you insist of course I won’t.”
Ken followed his group to the hostess station. He looked back at them three times on his way.
My goal was to have what I intended to be a novella on the streets this month: August. But the story won’t let me. Here’s why:
I have over thirty novels and novellas published under my real name and under my pseudonym The Black. Probably half of them are novellas, because my personal writing style is to focus on telling the story, not to write to a page length or word count. When my story is done, it’s done.
If you’ve been following the history behind The Way of a Man with a Neighbor you know I was inspired to write it as a modern day version of the Victorian era erotic tale The Way of a Man with a Maid. I anticipated that my story would be similar in length, and be a get-to-the-point erotic story of a man who has intimacies with his neighbor. I had the story mentally outlined, and I figured it would clock in at about 40,000 words. A novella. But then, well…
The Way of a Man with a Neighbor is at over 84,000 words, and the mystery plot turn has yet to happen. The book threatens to become my longest release ever, even beating out my 115,000 word saga The Professional. That’s my estimate. When all is said and done will I cull some stuff in the edit? Probably. But it’s still going to be novel length because Sam and Camilla have a lot to tell you.
So when is it coming out? I’ll likely miss my 31 August deadline, but The Way of a Man with a Neighbor will be on the streets a few days after.
I figured that finishing school Suzanne went to taught her that a lady should let a man make the first move, probably after the lady has laid out some irresistible bait. Horny or not I wasn’t hard up enough to lie just to get laid. I’d just been in a room with two naked women and had managed to maintain. I had no problem being honest and speaking my mind on the phone.
I said, “I’m not going to blow smoke up your pretty butt and tell you I want the white picket fence and 2.5 kids. Like you said, we’re just now starting to talk about things other than business, so we don’t know each other like that—not yet anyway. You’re a nice woman, Suzanne; very personable and very intelligent. I picked that up talking to you on a professional level. Now having met you, I know you’re the whole package. You’re a beautiful woman. So of course I’m interested.”
“And what exactly are you interested in, Mr. Knight?” I heard the humor in Suzanne’s tone. She was keeping it light while still testing me.
“Interested in seeing where we go,” I said.
“You don’t have a goal in mind?”
I didn’t, actually. It wasn’t like Suzanne was my best or only option. And I knew I wasn’t hers. She had a sure thing with her boss, George. I had the same with my boss, Beth. When you’re not hard up you’re not desperate, so you don’t need to lie.
I said, “I think it would be nice to see your lack of sleeping attire up close and personal.”
“Is that your way of saying you want to sleep with me, Mr. Knight?” Suzanne was still dangling her bait, tempting me to jump after it.
“Oh, at some point we can sleep too,” I said.
Of course she saw. We were playing her game.
I thought about how cute Chi looked in her fuzzy pink sweater and jeans. I remembered how good she smelled. In spite of the residual ache of sexual frustration in the pit of my stomach I thought if I had to choose between spending time with Chi fully dressed the way she’d been or with Suzanne naked in bed, I might still go for Chi. Suzanne wasn’t a sure thing, not in any sense. My friendship with Chione was rock solid.
With that thought fortifying my resolve I said, “So Suzanne, what’s your goal as far as we’re concerned?”
“I told you Griffin; every now and then I like to pamper myself.”
“Is that what you’d call it?”
“Something tells me we’d enjoy our experience.” Her tone straddled the line between anticipatory excitement and just plain wicked.
“There’s only one way to find out,” I said and crossed my mental fingers.
“That’s very true, Griffin. And, if you’re going to be making references to what you called my pretty butt you ought to at least know what you’re talking about.”
I assumed Suzanne meant that the next time I saw her I was going to get to see her pretty butt in greater detail than I had during my first visit. Based on my assumption I suggested I visit her again soon, and when it wasn’t about business.
“I’d just love to see you again,” she said with her southern accent oozing molasses sweetness.
We agreed to my flying down on the second weekend in November. After our call I made my flight and hotel reservations.
Maybe I wouldn’t need a hotel room. Still, I was playing Suzanne’s game. I wasn’t going to assume too much.
COMING JANUARY 2015
The Man lifted his face from between Angelina’s thighs, away from her most intimate place.
The tidal wave of bliss that for delicious minutes had washed away her embarrassment receded, leaving her shame laid bare. She had never before felt so exposed, so vulnerable. Adding to her embarrassment was that she’d never been made to feel what The Man just made her feel with his boldly deviant act. With his mouth and tongue he had transformed her. He had made her become someone else; a woman she didn’t recognize.
The Man crawled up and over her until he perched above her, bracing himself on his lean-muscled arms. He stared down at her. Under his knowing examination her face burned. She could not meet his gaze because her eyes could not deny what he had done to her—what he’d made her become: that woman she didn’t recognize.
He spoke her name gently. Angelina closed her eyes. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t let him see her shame and her truth.
With her face turned away and her eyes closed she said, “What is it?”
She felt his masculine desire brush along the inside of her thigh. The contact made her shudder—or was it the memory of that weekend last month that made her body respond to him?
“I want you,” he said, confirming his body’s demonstration.
Curiously, The Man’s tone sounded like a request. Angelina wondered why this time he would bother to ask. When he’d taken her before—when her husband offered her as payment for their debt—The Man had not asked her permission. He’d taken her from their apartment to his home and told her what he wanted and what he required her to do. Because she and Charlie owed The Man so much money there was no question that she would comply. So why would he ask her now, as if they were courting and he required her permission for intimacy?
Angelina opened her eyes but kept her face averted. She didn’t need to see The Man. The memories of his handsome face and his varied expressions were etched in her memory.
The first time—on the Friday evening last month that began the weekend of her taking—she had prayed to God for deliverance from her burden. By that Saturday morning she had thanked God that at least The Man was handsome. On Sunday, during the hours when she would normally have been in church, she’d known she was going to Hell if she didn’t repent for becoming what The Man had made her become. He had used her, yes. But while complying with his demands she had become someone else. That guilt, that sin, was hers.
And now, this second time, because she and Charlie still could not pay what they owed, The Man seemed to be asking her for what he’d simply taken before. Angelina wondered if that was why he’d done this new decadent thing to her, using his mouth and tongue to make her become someone entirely new again. Was that his way of making an apology?
Without looking up at him she asked, “What am I to you?”
“You’re the first thing I think about in the morning and the last thing on my mind at night. I can’t even guess how many times you cross my mind throughout every day.”
This was Charlie’s fault, she thought. If he hadn’t gambled away the rent money they wouldn’t owe The Man so much. If Charlie had been more responsible she wouldn’t be away from home in a strange city, naked in a hotel bed with a man she wasn’t married to.
“You use me,” Angelina said. “Why do you need to think about me at all?”
“I can’t honestly answer what I don’t know,” The Man said. “I only know what is. I know I want you.”
“We owe you money. That’s why I…we…you know…”
“Are you upset with me about before, about last month?”
Angelina’s face no longer burned, but hot moisture stung her eyes. “The things you made me do…”
“I was mad at Charlie for being a deadbeat. But you were angry at him too. I felt your anger in bed, Angelina. We were both punishing him.”
“What do you want? Why did you buy me that dress today and take me to that party tonight?” Angelina thought about what The Man had just done to her with his mouth and tongue, but couldn’t dare mention that. What he’d done was so obscene, and… “Was that your way of saying you’re sorry?”
“I did it because tonight I want you to kiss me.”
“Is that really necessary?” Angelina told herself that she had not just shuddered again.
“I’d like it if you did,” The Man said. “I’d like to think that this time you’re here with me—really with me. Do you understand?”
Angelina turned her face to look up at The Man. In the depths of his eyes she saw his truth.
She considered that she wouldn’t be here if Charlie had been less selfish and more responsible. She wouldn’t be here if her own husband hadn’t offered her as payment the way a farmer would offer a cow. This was not her doing. Whatever happened, the responsibility lay on Charlie’s shoulders.
Angelina lifted her face to The Man and offered him her kiss.
She became someone else—that woman she didn’t recognize. She decided she would get to know her.
COMING IN 2015
THE TAKING OF MRS. JONES