Wednesday, July 31, 2013

I know it's been a while but life happens, right? Last weekend I drove to Hays, KS to meet up with my best friend from high school who'd I'd not had contact with in 45 years. Lot of tears, lot of laughs and a lot of new memories to blend in with the old ones.

Friendship is such a valuable thing, true friendship. It should never be squander or discarded over petty disagreements. Seriously, I've had three "Best Friends" in my life, the kind you know you can tell anything, will keep your secrets, understands your deepest fears and knows your faces and knows when those faces are hiding pain or uncertainty you don't want the rest of the world to see.

This won't be the last time we get together. I won't let her get away so easy again.

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

We're starting to get into a rut here; hot all day and thunderstorms in the evening, night or early morning before sunrise. I'm ready for fall.

Friday I will meet up with my best friend from high school. We lost track of each other 45 years ago, and I just found her a couple of weeks ago. I searched on and off for 20 years and couldn't believe it when I finally talked to her on the phone.

So Friday we are meeting at a halfway point between us to spend some time together. I so can't wait.

Sunday, July 21, 2013

Corporate Indulgence

Corporate Indulgence
Copyright ©2002 D Fellows All Rights Reserved


“No Kevin! My desk. Eight a.m. End of discussion.”

The cell phone closed with a satisfying click. Emma dropped it into her purse and plopped the purse on the entry table. Leaning against the door, she sighed deeply, her fingers working at the kinks in the back of her neck. “Thank God this day is over.” The words came out more as a groan as she pushed off from the door and crossed to the kitchen, heels clicking against the Italian marble tiles.  Reaching up she pulled at the pins, allowing midnight black waves to cascade down her back and over her shoulders.

She stepped out of her shoes next to the counter and padded over to the fridge.  Wine.  A crystal flute from the rack over the island. She poured; sipped; sighed in contentment.  Wandering toward the bedroom, glass in one hand, the other engaged in fingering the buttons free down the front of her blouse. Tugging it out of her skirt as she crossed the threshold to her bedroom, she let it slip off one shoulder, switched the wine to her other hand and allowed the blouse to fall free and pool behind her.

Settling her glass on the nightstand, Emma moved to stand before the window overlooking the bay.  All manner of ships chugged past.  As she reached back and unfastened her skirt, she imagined the men scurrying around the decks, their skin warm, and slick with sweat. The tip of her tongue darted out to wet her lips. Her palms grazed the rounded swell of her cheeks as she slid the skirt past her hips. Soon, the air would chill as the sun dropped into the darkening sea, ships becoming no more than flickering pinpoints of light in the darkness.

Her foot cradled against the edge of the chair, Emma slowly rolled a stocking down the length of her leg, loving the smooth soft skin beneath her fingers.  She repeated the process with the other stocking, wadded them into a ball and dropped them on the chair. The garter belt followed, the bra close behind.  Picking up the wine, she rolled the cool crystal across the heated skin above her breasts and let her mind drift; and settle on her last appointment that afternoon.

He emanated dark malignant sexuality. Adam Enders had arrived for his appointment with an attitude of supreme confidence and casual nonchalance. Emma recognized immediately that he didn’t give a damn if he sold her on the project or not. If she didn’t jump on it, someone else would.

Emma sipped her wine, chuckling.  She hadn’t heard two words of his presentation, but she’d heard his voice. Soft, low, commanding. And she’d felt its effect between her thighs. Hot, wet, aching. Her nipples, taut and throbbing, had pressed against the soft white silk of her blouse. He hadn’t missed that; she’d seen satisfaction reflected in his charcoal gray eyes.

Shivering slightly, she finished the wine and set the glass aside on her way to the bathroom. Thoughts still dancing lightly on the memory of Adam Enders, she turned on the shower, adjusted the temperature and pulled her hair back up and pinned it in place. Stepping into the steaming stream, Emma slid the door closed.

The pulsing water withdrew a blissful sigh as she backed into the steam. Cascading heat eased the tension in her neck and shoulders. She had not realised until that moment that Adam Enders had so dominated her thoughts since he’d walked out the door with a firm handshake and quiet promise in his smile.  Raw desire swallowed his parting words as his nails grazed her palm before releasing her hand.

Eyes closed, she slathered her arms and shoulders with rich, creamy lather, the scent of night flowers permeating the steam. Thoughts of Adam drifted into her mind as she lifted first one breast, then the other; the ruffled sponge more a caress than a means to bathing. Her nipples puckered, taut sweet cherries begging to be tasted. Fingers skimmed down over her belly, across her hips.  The fingers were his, long, tapered, strong.  She could feel them graze her exposed mound as they slid along her thighs, sliding down one leg then back up the other. 

A slow fire smoldered in her belly; a fire he’d ignited with that slow rumbling voice and penetrating gaze. The heel of her hand pressed against the curve of her pelvic bone, her fingers curling downward to slide between the swollen folds of her pussy.  God how she ached; burned for release.  Adam had been nothing but professional. She always made it a point not to mix business and pleasure. How then had he penetrated the carefully erected shield and crashed her defenses? How had he contrived to make her want him beyond reason?

A fingertip found the nub of pleasure at the apex of her pussy, rubbing it slowly.  Moaning softly, Emma reformed the image in her mind that plagued her during the drive home. Him; towering over her, predator studying prey. Her eyes closed now, she gave freedom to fantasy. She watched him, methodically removing his clothing, his gaze pinning her in place. His tan, lithe body, honed to hardness, revealed piece by piece.  Devouring him, her fingers stroked faster, slipping in and out of her pussy now, drawing forth the orgasm she craved.

Shuddering she leaned against the shower wall, panting, the hot shower easing the rigidity in her shoulders and back once more.  Slowly her heart slowed, her breathing returned to normal.  But the ache remained, a hunger for more…more of Adam Enders. Without a doubt she knew he could take her to heights of pleasure she’d never known with another man.  Yearning blossomed and took root in the pit of her belly.

She stepped from the shower and wrapped in a thick bath sheet.  Freeing her hair, she wandered into the bedroom, drying her body as she made her away to the bed. The towel dropped behind her as she crawled onto the bed and reached into the nightstand drawer. The throbbing between her legs intensified as she removed a large dildo.  Darkness had swept across the room while she showered.  One light burned at the bedside, bathing her in golden softness.

Legs parted, eyes closed, she called forth the image once more and slid the dildo deep into her pussy, arching into as though arching into a lover’s thrust. Fingers found her clit, pinching and rubbing the now ultra sensitive bud as her hips rocked and bucked against the dildo stroking her inner walls.  Muscles contracted around the thick rubber phallus, shifted now to rub at her clit.  In her desire induced state, it was Adam’s cock pounding into her, teasing the wave building inside, drawing it closer to the point of cresting.

Arching, she groaned deep in her throat as the surge crashed down, tumbling her over and over with each pulsing convulsion. She stroked deeper, wresting every last drop from deep inside.  Cum pooled beneath her on the coverlet as she slowly eased the dildo out.  Eyes closed, she waited for her body to recover.  Soon, she could distinguish the soft swoosh of the ceiling fan, the gentle ticking of her bedside clock, the harsh breathing of….

Eyes suddenly wide, she stared at the shadow leaning against the doorframe, watching her.  With quiet grace, the shadow shifted, sauntered slowly toward her until it became solid man. 

Adam stared down at her with a wry grin as he dropped her spare house keys on the bed beside her, the keys she’d slipped him as he shook her hand before leaving the office.

“You started without me,” he chastised.

Emma grinned back.  “That was just a warm up.”


He towered over her, predator studying prey. She watched him, methodically removing his clothing, his gaze pinning her in place. His tan, lithe body, honed to hardness, revealed piece by piece.

In retrospect...

So in retrospect I suppose I should have given credit to Margaret Mitchell for the title of the first post and do so now. It was a test in the initial set up of this blog. I am new at this concept of blogging so be patient with  me. My sister isn't finished training me yet.

I've been writing, and studying the craft of writing, for years. Content, for the most part, revolved around historical romance, which I do still read and enjoy. I've also toyed with story lines dealing in witchcraft, the west and paranormal.

Then, a door opened, and I wandered into the wonderful world of D/s (Dominance/submission) and BDSM (Bondage, Dominance, SadoMasochism.) It's a beautiful journey. And, as it opened, so did my interest in writing Erotica blossom, fertilized by the Marketplace series by Laura Antoniou.

My foray into penning erotica has so far flowered into two full length complete novels and a myriad of erotic short stories. Initially, this was done so my friends in the lifestyle could enjoy them. There was not as much focus on the mechanics of writing, though I did insist on a beginning, middle and end to each story. The focus, at that time was to make the men hard and the ladies wet. Based on feedback from my readership, I succeeded in that respect.

A three part series, Fifty Shades of Gray, written by E.L. James, opened up a retail market I never considered existed, especially outside of electronic literature. E-pub houses started looking for the next sexy best seller in the genre. Yes, it is officially a genre now. My sister, alluded to earlier in this post, sent me a link.

And so, the polishing of Aimee has now begun.

And apparently that same sister expects me to post the occasionally short story here. Perhaps I will.