28 September 2011

Review: The Training of Tessa

Hi, folks! I've had the pleasure of reading an ARC copy of The Training of Tess by Tessa Wanton. Following is a review and a short excerpt. Enjoy!

The Training of Tessa

Tessa had always been fascinated with the Dominant submissive lifestyle, and she was ? she felt, a very submissive person.  In her real life people knew her as a feisty, headstrong and passionate woman, no one would ever have described her as submissive.  But then she had learned over time that being submissive didn?t mean she had to be a doormat, it meant to her that she wanted to hand over her control, her welfare, her safety, to someone else.  Throughout her life she had maintained an iron grip on her personal control, organized to the extreme in her work and home life, highly respected in her profession as a Personal Assistant, so used to controlling others to ensure success.  But what she truly wanted deep down inside, was a man who could take her to that special place of freedom she had heard and read so much about, to experience true freedom within her mind.

She had signed up to a lifestyle website to learn more about what it was to attain this  ?sub-space? she had heard about.  Peppering her profile with photographs she felt were ?artistic?, and writing a personal passage about who she was had attracted plenty of admirers, but no one she had particularly connected with.  She wasn?t looking to find a soul mate, or even a playmate, just someone to discuss her thoughts and passions and desires with.  It was out of the blue that a message had dropped into her inbox.

This intriguingly daring and fiery novella describes three encounters experienced by a young woman, who, whilst fascinated by BDSM throughout her life, had not had the courage or opportunity to experiment in the scene, until now...

The Training of Tess is a quick read. I enjoyed Tessa’s character and found her intriguing from the opening lines. Her nervous straightening of her skirt immediately shows a flaw in her otherwise collected demeanor at work, and also demonstrated the effect this otherwise unknown man has on her when they’ve yet to even meet.

The author expertly assesses the fears and doubts Tessa experiences and allows us to see into her mind in a beautifully structured internal dialogue. Through her eyes, we see what Tessa sees, feel what she’s feeling, and her fear and self-deprecating doubt is allowed to radiate through in small and poignant moments of panic.

Allowing a person to dominate you completely is daunting enough, but to meet a man from the internet in a warehouse and allow him to do so would be positively terrifying, and the author doesn’t forget this even as Tessa allows herself to relish in the experience. I thoroughly enjoyed this read. It’s well-written, and erotic in all the right places.


Tessa fidgeted nervously as she smoothed the wrinkles from her figure hugging pencil skirt. Shifting her gaze from the countryside rushing by, she glanced impatiently at her phone again; nothing. The last words she had read that morning from Him had been today is the day Tessa. She had scrolled up and down the list of messages she had received from Him countless times as she had sat there, double-checking and triple checking to ensure that she would fulfill His instructions exactly. You will catch the 10.13 train to London Victoria and alight when I tell you. You will then go to the front of the station and take the nearest taxi. Tell him to take you to Court Road. When you arrive there you will see two post boxes. Get out of the car, pay him and await instructions. 

An involuntary shiver ran the full length of her spine as she sat on the train, waiting, anxiously waiting for that message. She perched on the edge of the seat, waiting for each stop, knowing she might have to dash for the door to make sure she didn’t miss the stop, and then her phone vibrated in her trembling hand. Now it said and with that Tessa stood and moved to the door. She appraised her reflection in the glass of the door – green satin blouse, black cardigan, black pencil skirt, sheer black nylons and her comfortable black slip on patent heels. He had requested she wear her turquoise underwear for their meeting, so Tessa had thought that accessorizing her flame red hair with a forest green blouse would also please Him. She had an insatiable need to please this man like nothing she had ever felt before. 

He had crashed headlong into her life some three weeks earlier. Tessa had always been fascinated with the Dominant submissive lifestyle, and she was – she felt, a very submissive person. In her real life people knew her as a feisty, headstrong and passionate woman; no one would ever have described her as submissive. But then she had learned over time that being submissive didn’t mean she had to be a doormat, it meant to her that she wanted to hand over her control, her welfare, her safety, to someone else. Throughout her life she had maintained an iron grip on her personal control, organized to the extreme in her work and home life, highly respected in her profession as a Personal Assistant, so used to controlling others to ensure success. But what she truly wanted deep down inside, was a man who could take her to that special place of freedom she had heard and read so much about. To experience true freedom within her mind. 

She had signed up to a lifestyle website to learn more about what it was to attain this ‘sub-space’ she had heard about. Peppering her profile with photographs she felt were ‘artistic’, and writing a personal passage about who she was had attracted plenty of admirers, but no one she had particularly connected with. She wasn’t looking to find a soul mate, or even a playmate, just someone to discuss her thoughts and passions and desires with. It was out of the blue that a message had dropped into her inbox. He handled each conversation they had with courtesy and interest, drawing more and more information out of her without her even realizing. Or maybe she did and she was already walking towards this man instinctively, already feeling the urge to please Him in any way He desired. She couldn’t place when her thoughts turned to Him entirely- it wasn’t long after they had started talking. He had even managed to find out where she worked, and after a few days of messaging back and forth, He called her anonymously at her desk. He had used a fake name to convince reception to pass Him through to her, and when He spoke, He had teased her with His low voice pressed to her ear. “Imagine this voice Tessa, speaking in your ear in person, knowing that whatever I say next, you must submit without question...” At that point Tessa felt the intense pangs of fear and panic that she had been hunted down so easily, what else did this man know about her in but a few days? She did not even know His name... 

Two days later she met Him for the first time. She had just had a difficult meeting in the city and had been dropped off at the local car pool to collect her car when she had been pressed firmly against her door from behind. 

“Hello Tessa,” He had breathed in her ear. “I suggest you get in my car.” Near paralyzed with fear she turned slowly and looked straight into intense sparkling brown eyes, flecked with green, there was no way she would deny Him, all of her life-long fantasies were coming true. They had gone to a local park, where He had run His hands over her shaking body, entwined His fingers in her hair and pulled her to His lips where they kissed deeply and passionately, her body melting further with each kiss and caress. His hands were so gentle, but firm enough to know that there really was no escape. He worked over her clothed body, gradually relaxing her until He slipped His hand under her top and slid His fingers inside the lacy material of her bra, slowly releasing her right breast. Her heaving chest betrayed her fear and lust, a deep red flush creeping across her as He leaned in and sucked her nipple deep into His mouth. She moaned loudly, eyes closing and arching her back to push into Him, taking her so close to the edge of climax then instinctively stopping His exploration of her body. Pulling away from her, He held her gaze, fingers once more tightly wrapped in her hair.

“I am going to enjoy you,” He uttered as she gasped to regain her composure. Every word He spoke to her was like a lightning bolt straight to her sex. Deep and powerful, she had to know more about Him whatever the cost.

27 September 2011

The Beginning

Time for another flash fiction! This one is brought to you courtesy of a werewolf dream. Hope you enjoy, and don't forget to explore the other great flashers for the week.

*Surprisingly, this post has no language or violence, to speak of. Hmm.*

A cold wind cut through the house, drawing Madeleine out of a deep sleep. The old house creaked under the howling winds outside and rain pelted the windows. Tree branches scraped at the glass, and the four year old girl pulled her knees to her chest amid the oversize comforter and cast wide eyes around the shadowed room.

Her feet hit cold hardwood floors and she snatched her teddy bear off the bed to carry down the hall with her. A flickering light shone from her mother’s room, casting dancing shadows on the peeling wallpaper in the hallway. Madeleine swallowed as she crept up to the door with quiet steps, the bear clutched to her chest. She peered around the door and found her mother kneeling on the floor in the middle of a pentagram. Red candles burned on the outer edges, and a bowl of oils sat in front of her, shimmering light reflecting of the surface.

Madeleine listened as her mother began whispering words foreign to the young child’s ears. The whisper built to a frenzied chant, the words echoing off the walls of the room. The floors began to shake and Madeleine drew back against the wall, terrified tears streaming down her cheeks. A door slammed open downstairs, rain driving into the foyer and hitting the floor with violent force as the moon peered out from clouded skies. The windows began to shake, and Martha’s voice grew stronger.

The candlelight snuffed out with a gust of wind and the house fell into stunning darkness, illuminated only by flashes of lightning. Madeleine swallowed as her eyes struggled to focus. She glanced down the hall towards her room, and a bolt of lightning lit the hallway.

A beast blocked her path. He rose almost to the ceiling on all four paws, his head dipped low and green eyes staring at her in the night. Saliva hanging from his jowls glinted in the lightning, and as quickly as she’d seen him, the monster disappeared when the light faded. Her heart racing, Madeleine froze. She had no idea where to go. Her mother’s voice still floated from the bedroom, the chant growing as the storm raged harder.

Another flash of lightning illuminated a second beast. He stood behind the first, eyeing Madeleine down. Eyes wide, she pulled the teddy bear to her face and sank down the wall. Tears streaked across her face and hit her arm as they dripped from her chin. Terror filled her, forcing the air from her lungs.

A cold nose pressed against her cheek, and Madeleine whimpered. The monster snorted against her, moisture from his nose pulling her hair with it as he pulled back. The second beast approached and sniffed her bear before licking her hand softly. They walked past her, into the bedroom. Martha’s chants stopped suddenly.

“No.” Her voice was barely a whisper, but Madeleine heard it in the lull of the storm.

A man answered. “Yes. The gods have spoken.”

“This is not the work of the gods,” she said, malice lacing her voice. “This is the work of a demon.”

“Demon or god, the oils have never lied to us,” said another man. “She is mine.”

“No,” said his comrade. “She is too young.”

“The butterfly-effect will be too strong,” Martha whispered.

A growl resonated deep into Madeleine as she listened. She stood and ran back to her room, not wishing to hear anymore. The bed was comforting, and when she pulled the covers over her head she felt as though nothing could get her. A loud thud came from the hallway, followed by a snarl. With shaking hands, she pulled the covers tighter around her as her door swung open.

Heavy steps approached her bed. She tensed as a nose pushed into her back. It persisted until she slowly turned to face the monster. His bright blue eyes bore into hers and he laid his head on the bed with a sigh.

Madeleine stared at his sad eyes. She pulled the teddy bear closer to her chest with one arm and slowly reached out with the other hand. Swallowing, she squeezed her eyes closed and laid her fingers on his surprisingly soft fur. She held her breath, expecting him to explode like the forgotten bombshell. He angled his head to her touch and licked her hand before he was ripped from the covers.

She screamed as the comforter was torn away. Scrambling up on the pillows, Madeleine tried to gain leverage from the beasts fighting in her room. One threw the other into her dresser. Panting heavily, he rose as the aggressor approached the bed and hit him with a shoulder.

Madeleine fell off the bed in her fear and crawled out of the door as the wolves raged in battle over her. Martha snatched her up in the hallway and ran out the front door, a small suitcase in her other hand. Rain pelted them, driving like bullets into the thin fabric on Madeleine’s back. From the woods surrounding their home, no fewer than fifty wolves emerged from each side to ensure they didn’t flee. The two groups stared at each other across the expanse of her front yard, growling at each other with their hackles raised.

Panting behind them drew Madeleine’s attention, and she watched as the two wolves emerged from her house. Bleeding and wounded, they walked a distance apart from each other. They didn’t stop, but limped into the woods.

The howl echoing into the cold night air shot chills down Madeleine’s spine.


The other magnificent flashers:

Victoria Blisse (m/f)

Elyzabeth M. VaLey (m/f)

23 September 2011

Blog Tour: Up A Dry Creek

Welcome to another tour from Coffee Beans and Love Scenes! This one is for Up A Dry Creek, by Avery Flynn. I'll be posting a review below, and an interview from the author. Enjoy!

Up A Dry Creek:

Claire Layton expects the usual busy Saturday night at Harvest Bistro to be killer on her stilletto shod feet. She never imagines there’d be an actual murderer on the loose at her restaurant in rural Dry Creek, Nebraska. But when she discovers a customer dead in a dumpster, the killer demands she find the victim’s phone and flash drive or face fatal consequences.

Jake Warrick, a cocky and mind-numbingly hot private investigator, becomes Claire's unlikely ally in the search. Jake just wants to solve the case and get out of this hick town, but the diminuitive and curvaceous Claire turns his plan upside down as they uncover a more complex crime than they ever imagined. The two bicker and banter like Tracy and Hepburn caught in a whirlwind of intense sexual attraction as they try to find the killer before it's too late.


From the first line, this book had me hooked. Flynn wastes no time in getting straight to the story, opening with a scene in Claire’s restaurant followed directly by the discovery of a dead girl in her dumpster out back.

When Jake was first introduced, I didn’t like him. Because Claire came in so strong and fierce, I immediately identified with her, and when they had their initial exchange I seethed. But as we get to know him, Jake isn’t such a bad guy after all.

Flynn executes this story with grace and ease, and the plot flows nicely. The only beef I had is how frustrated I became waiting for Claire and Jake to consummate their relationship. But, in the end the wait was worth it.

I often read romance novels written in a sappy sweet voice with a happy ever after that no one can really expect to have. But this novel was played out with humor and enough tension to keep you turning the pages, and the ending is plausible. I thoroughly enjoyed this story, and will definitely be reading Flynn’s work again.


Please tell the readers a little about yourself: Well there’s two of me. I’m author Avery Flynn, which is the real me - she with the three kids, one husband, two arthritic dogs and an addiction-worthy love of strong, black coffee. Then there’s blue hair Avery Flynn, my alter ego who is part astrophysicist and part femme fatal. She dances the tango, stays at the Ice Hotel in Iceland and bar hops with the wild and crazy. Tim Gunn is her best friend. Why the two? The simple truth is that Avery Flynn is my pen name. The real reason? Who wouldn’t want to invent a badass alter ego?

How about your latest release? Up a Dry Creek is a fun and steamy romantic suspense about two hard-headed alphas and the murder of a spoiled rich girl at a private liberal arts college in small town Dry Creek, Nebraska. I hope readers will fall in love with Claire (a spitfire if there ever was one) and Jake (yummy is all I can say about him) as much as I did while writing Up a Dry Creek. But a word of warning: This is not the book for you if you like slow, plodding books that lack a sense of humor and sexual chemistry. If that is the type of book you enjoy, perhaps I could recommend my old organic chemistry textbook? :)

What was your primary inspiration for this book? Every romantic suspense novel I’ve ever read. I love reading fun, fast-paced novels that make my stomach fizz with the hero and heroine fall in love and get my heart pounding whenever the bad guy approaches. So that’s the kind of book I wanted to write and voila Up a Dry Creek was born.

Do you have any muses? Nope, no muses. Just me and my weirdly-wired brain making up stories.

Do you control your characters or do they flog you into shape?  Flog, what a great word. :) I don’t control my characters they have stubborn little minds of their own. Their kind of like children that way. I can coax and threaten, but in the end if they want to throw a temper tantrum like a three year old until they get their way, they will.

When you write, is there a special routine you follow? There must be coffee. That’s rule No. 1. Also, I’m a plotter, so I need to know where the story is going, even if it’s only a vague idea. Next, comes quiet. The only time I listen to music is when I’m writing sex scenes.

If you could be one animal, person, or at a place for a day what/who/where would it be? Don’t let the two Averys fool you, I really like being me so I’d have to make it a place. When I was in college I studied for a semester in Ireland and we traveled to the Aran Islands. That place is breathtakingly beautiful with sheer cliffs and the ocean pounding below. We stayed at a B&B and sang American Pie in the pub with the locals. What a lovely time that was, I’d love to go back.

Five random facts about you: I love hot yoga. Bridget Jones Diary is my favorite romantic movie, with a close second going to Down With Love. I cannot pass a bookstore without going in. I despise talking on the telephone. If you walk into a room and someone is laughing really loudly, it’s probably me.

Are you working on any new releases later this year? Yes! A Dry Creek Bed, the second in my Dry Creek series, will be going to the publisher by the end of September. Fingers crossed, they’ll love it as much as I do.

Anything else you’d like to say? Just my favorite quote from the great movie, Auntie Mame starring Rosalind Russell: Life is a banquet and most poor suckers are starving to death.

Contact info:
Twitter: @averyflynn

Thanks for being here, Avery!

21 September 2011

Welcome Home

Well, it's that time of the week once more! Today, I bring you a little ditty I've been working on as a potential opener for a new horror. Hope you enjoy!


A giggle pierced the night air.

“Shh,” said a young man, admonishing his date. “You want to get us caught out here?”

“Oh, come on,” she replied. Pulling away from him, she looked around at the decrepit old mansion looming in front of them. “This place is in the middle of nowhere. Who the hell is going to hear us?”

He smiled. “Well, you know the legend, don’t you?”

She shook her head, eyes wide.

“Oh, yeah? Then let me tell you all about it.” He tugged her hand and pulled her close as they crept up the overgrown path. “They say a woman used to live here with her daughter. When the daughter was murdered the woman went mad. She started killing anybody who came onto the property, and drank their blood until the body withered up."

A twig snapped under the girl’s foot and she gave a little scream and leaped against her boyfriend. “Shit, that scared me.” She giggled. “What happened to the woman?”

The massive front doors loomed in front of them and he reached for the handle with a wicked grin plastered on his cheeks. “Nobody knows. She’s never been seen again. They say she might still be here.” A groan of the wood door had his girlfriend on edge. The scent of decay swept out with a whoosh of dust. “They say,” he whispered, “that she might even live right under these floors, in the dungeon they found caked with dried blood.”

“Shut up, Sean,” the girl whispered. “You’re scaring me.”

“That’s the point, isn’t it?” He chuckled and tugged her hand behind him. “Come on, Michele. I’m with you.”

The foyer was coated with a layer of filth and grime, dark hardwood floors barely visible beneath. A broken chandelier dangled from the ceiling, supported by two strands of chords, and the breeze from the open door rustled the crystal droplets. From somewhere deep in the house, a floorboard creaked.

“Did you hear that?” Michele glanced around and swallowed, eyes wide.

“Probably just a stray cat,” Sean replied. “Or maybe, it’s the woman coming to eat us alive.”

“Will you stop doing that?” she said with a scowl. “I can’t concentrate on even walking right when you talk like that.”

They tiptoed towards the swirling staircase. Paintings of elegant women and men hung crooked on the walls, their faces withered with age. The stairs moaned with each step, and Michele’s breathing became shallow with anticipation of what would come.

A wide hallway opened on the top floor, with rooms laid out to each side of them. Doors barely cracked open revealed threatening darkness. Michele swallowed and gripped Sean’s hand a little tighter.

“Sean, let’s go. We’ve seen enough.” A soft tap behind her made Michele jump and look back. Nothing loomed in the shadows.

“What’s the matter, baby? You scared?” Sean’s taunts lured her forward, against her better instincts.

Moonlight trickled into the bay windows at the end of the hall, scattered in the ripped silk curtains hanging haphazardly from broken rods. Sean pushed a door and it creaked open to reveal a dark bedroom. A four poster bed sat in the middle of the room, the white bedspread spread out as though someone had been sleeping there. Michele walked forward while her boyfriend looked at the trinkets on the dresser and fingered the soft sheets.

The fabric was warm under her fingers.

Gasping, she stepped back. “Sean,” she whispered, “we have to go. There’s someone here.”

“Have you seen anyone?” He snorted. “Stop being so scared of this damn mansion. Come here and look what I found.”

Michele swallowed and rushed to his side. He pointed to a picture on the dresser, the only piece of glass not smeared with dust in the house. A smiling woman peered out from the photo, her bright blue eyes crinkled on a wide smile. Dark black hair framed her pale face, and a forest behind her only accentuated her beauty.

“Wow, she’s beautiful.”

“You think that’s the daughter?”

The mention of another person brought thought of the cooling bed back to Michele’s mind. “I don’t know. All I know is that bed is warm.”

“What do you mean, warm?” Skeptical, Sean walked to the bed in two steps and ran his hand along the covers. “It’s cold, babe.” He chuckled and looked over his shoulder.

Michele was gone.

“Michele?” Panic fluttered into his chest at the empty room. She’d been just there, standing by the dresser and terrified. “Babe?”

He stepped away from the bed, looking towards the door. Silence echoed from the hallway, and Sean swallowed. A soft thud behind him drew his attention and he looked over his shoulder to find a horrific sight.

Michele lay on the white sheets, her body contorted. Blood pooled underneath her and dripped to the floor from her fingertips. An open, gaping wound on her neck was only just visible beneath her matted hair. She stared at him with wide eyes, trying to form words.

Sean dropped to his knees next to the bed. “Oh, shit. What happened, Michele?” Her mouth opened and closed as she tried to speak. “What is it?” His voice cracked with the fear and grief coursing through his body. “What is it, babe?”

She raised a shaking finger and pointed to the ceiling. Sean blinked and turned his head to look up.

He barely saw the blonde demon dropping on him, but he felt her fangs sink into his neck.


And the other magnificent flashers:

Chris Quinton (m/m)

Victoria Blisse (m/f)

Elyzabeth M. VaLey (m/f)

17 September 2011

Six Sentence Sunday!

Hi, folks! Happy Sunday!

“Hey, Adelaide! Wait up!”

Adelaide looked up from her handheld at the echoing call coming down the sterile corridor towards her. She glanced over her shoulder to see the congressman’s assistant running her way, good old what’s-his-face. Oh, shit, she thought. What is his name?

There's my offering for this week, from a WIP sitting on my desktop. Have a great week!

12 September 2011

Guest Blogger Heather Thurmeier!

Happy Monday, folks! I have Heather Thurmeier as a guest today, and she has an excellent blog about titling a book. Enjoy, and thanks for dropping by, Heather!

Who cares what the title is as long as the book is good, right?


Titles are incredibly important. They immediately tell us something about the book we’re about to submit to publishers, about to read—or about to buy. Admit it, you’ve passed over a book in the store or online because at first glance, the title didn’t reach out and grab you. I know I have.

When I first wrote LOVE AND LATTES, I really struggled with the title. I did all kinds of brainstorming for the perfect title as I wrote it, but there was never one that really got me excited. Finally, I settled on Chasing Julia. My hero is Chase and my heroine is Julia. I thought it was a perfect play on words and it was memorable. But as I finished the book, I just couldn’t bring myself to send it out as it was. The title didn’t fit and I knew if I sent it out to publishers with that title, they would have the wrong impression of the book before they ever read it.

What does the title Chasing Julia conjurer in your mind? A romantic suspense? A mystery with lots of clues and red herrings? My book is a funny, contemporary romance set mostly in a bookstore. Didn’t get that from the original title though, did you?

So I went back to brainstorming. I wanted something fun, flirty, and romantic. I wanted a title that captured a moment from the book—a title that captured the tone and voice. Then I came up with LOVE AND LATTES and I knew I had a great title. It just felt right.  *Happy sigh*

Finally, I had a title that actually represented the book. SQUEE!

If you’re having trouble coming up with a title before you write or while you are writing your book, by all means, don’t let that keep you from putting your words on the page. Keep writing and the title will work itself out later. You can always have a working title while you write the book. I think sometimes you don’t even know what your book is really about until you finish it. So it may be impossible to come up with the perfect title until the book has been completed. If you’re still struggling with a title after you type The End and brainstorming isn’t working, ask a fellow writer, friend, spouse, whoever will listen for some suggestions. Give them the list of your brainstormed titles and see what they think. Do they like a title that you’re still unsure about? Do any of the titles make them want to read the book? Do they have any other title ideas based on your brainstorming session?

If all else fails and you still don’t have a title, don’t stress. Pick the best one you can from your list of options and send it out. Maybe that agent/editor who loves your story will have the perfect title for you.

Thank you, Lindsay, for having me on your blog today to help celebrate my debut release!

Love And Lattes:

Chase Bloom wants the one thing his wealth can't buy--a woman who loves him for who he really is and not just his money. Not only is Julia Walker beautiful, funny, and so incredibly sexy, she's also the first girl who doesn't seem to know who Chase is. Finally, after two years of playing the field Chase gets a chance to date a girl who's interested in him, not his status. As Julia waits at the bar in one of the local clubs, she wonders how much more cleavage she'll have to show to be granted a drink by a bartender with blinders on. Just when she thinks she's bound to die of thirst, the man of her dreams steps up to the bar and into her heart with a frosty Cosmo. Their casual encounter at the bar quickly escalates into an intimate encounter in the bedroom.

When Julia runs into Chase on her first day of work she's excited to finally see him again—until she learns he's her new boss. Now Julia must stop fantasizing about him even though her mind is constantly remembering his hands on her body, his lips on her eager flesh. But her fantasies fizzle when both Julia's first customer and her new manager threaten her to stay away from the boss. Chase is a player and Julia is his new toy. Should Julia heed the threats about Chase or is a chance to fall in love worth the risk?

Available Now!

And you can find Heather at:

Facebook: Heather Thurmeier, author
Twitter: @hthurmeier

07 September 2011

Mommy's Little Secret

It's that time of the week again! Here's my offering, and don't forget to check out the other great flashers!

*Probably something disturbing in here. Just a default warning now.*

Faint sounds of a screaming horde reached Martin’s ears as he opened his dressing room door. Rolling his eyes, he cocked his head side to side and shrugged his shoulders a few times to loosen them. A door opened to his left and his sidekick stepped from her room.

“Hey, Martin,” Sheila said wearily. “You ready to do this?”

“Yeah. Let’s get it over with. These live shows are killing me.”

They chatted on their way to the stage. A cool blast of fresh air swept across them as they neared the open air coliseum, and the screaming fans became overwhelming. An opening act was just wrapping up and prancing offstage.

Martin eyed their goofy costumes down. Bright and colorful, they wore oversized bowties and sunglasses. Tremendous smiles pained their cheeks.

“Oh, man,” the lead singer yelled, obviously deafened by the loud music. “What a crowd!”

“Sure, sure,” Martin replied, and watched them walk away. The announcer came over the speakers.

“Heeeeeeeeeeeey, kids!” The crowd squealed collectively. “Are you ready for an adventure?”

“Let’s do this,” Sheila said. She fell into character and crept to the edge of the stage. She poked her head out as her mic flipped on and the crowd erupted in chaotic joy.

Three hours later, Martin and Sheila stood in the foyer of the venue, taking pictures and signing autographs for some lucky kids. His cheeks hurt from smiling so much, but there were still fifty kids to go who’d paid the extra money to meet the stars.

Finally, only one child remained. She approached them shyly, her cheeks flaring with red to accent her freckles. Her mother stood with a gentle hand on her hair, encouraging her forward. The woman was stunning, all sleek design and luscious curves. Martin let his eyes sweep across her in an appraisal, from her shiny brunette hair to the six inch stilettos topping off her lean legs.

He found the woman staring at him, a small smile playing at her lips. She leaned down to her daughter’s ear to whisper something, her shirt dangling low to reveal just enough cleavage to incite Martin’s imagination. He snapped back to reality as the child approached and extended a hand.

“Well, hello,” he said in a gentle voice. “What’s your name?”


“That’s a very pretty name, Michele. I’m Joe.”

She smiled and the floodgates opened. Her mother pried Michele away and grinned.

“Thanks,” she said. “We’re big fans of you guys.”

Martin stood and struggled to keep his eyes on her face. “We appreciate that. She’s adorable.”

“So are you.”

He blinked. “Ah…I’m glad you think so.” With a light chuckle, Martin stepped back.

The woman slipped him a piece of folded up paper and leaned closer. “Why don’t you call me later? I’d love to get more…acquainted before you leave town.”

He glanced down at the paper and then the ring on her finger. Taking it gingerly, he slipped the number into his pocket and smiled. “Have a safe trip home.”

Three hours passed in his dressing room staring at the little piece of paper with simple block numbers and a name: Marisa. He ran his fingers over it, considering. A married mother wanted him. He’d be back in California within two days and never have to see her again.

What could be the harm?

Before he could second guess, he dialed the number and listened to a song play in lieu of a ring. Something about a dead dog and lost love and sitting on a rocking chair lamenting life. Martin grimaced.

A breathy voice answered. “Hello?”


“Yes. Is this Joe?”

He rolled his eyes. She wanted the persona. Whatever. “Yeah, it’s Joe. Listen, why don’t you meet me at the Plaza in thirty minutes? Room four fifty two.”

She laughed softly, sending a chill across his skin. “You better be ready, sweetheart.”

When the knock came at his hotel room door thirty minutes later, he wavered for a moment. But the insistent soft pound forced him to open the door. Martin drew up, shocked at the sight in front of him.

Marisa stood in the hallway, soft incandescent lights caressing her pale skin beneath the splayed open trench coat. Black stilettos led to black hose, cut off at her thigh and held up by a garter attached to a leather bodice. She carried a bag and pushed him aside as she sashayed past.

“You going to stand there staring at me all night or close the door?”

Martin swallowed and closed the door behind him. Marisa set her bag on the table with her back turned to him. A soft smile playing at her lips, she looked over her shoulder.

“You like what you see?”

He nodded. She shed the trench coat, letting it fall to the floor at her feet, and turned. Her hands behind her back, she nodded towards the bed. He laid down obediently, lust and excitement burning through his veins.
Marisa pulled some ropes from behind her back and straddled his chest. “Lie back and relax, lover,” she whispered, tying off his hands and then his feet. His breath came in rapid spurts as she ran a bandana between his teeth and tied it off behind his head. Her manicured fingernails trailed down his bare chest as she slid off him. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this opportunity.”

Martin watched as she reached into her bag, wondering what sort of fun toys she brought with her. Maybe a feather or a small flogger. He’d like that.

When she turned to face him with a sharp and gleaming dagger, his eyes widened and the lust he felt turned to fear. In one hand, she held a dagger, its malicious point tapered and gleaming. In the other, a pizza cutter with a throwing star fashioned onto its wheel. Hysteria coursing into him, Martin shook his head and began to squirm under the tight bonds.

Marisa smiled. “That’s right, Joe. You’re going to die. The question is,” she said, looking between each instrument, “which of these do you prefer?”


The other superb flashers:

West Thornhill (m/m)

Chris Quinton (m/m)

Julie Hayes (m/m)

Lindsay Klug (m/f)

Victoria Blisse (m/f)

Heather Lin (m/f)

Freddy MacKay (m/m)

Pender Mackie

Lily Sawyer (m/m)

Elyzabeth M. VaLey (m/f) <<>>

Ryssa Edwards (m/m)