Smut for Good: A Snog for Sommer

I feel very lucky to be a part of an amazing community of writers. Lucky not just because we all love to write erotica, but because we are all so full of heart and genuine caring. When one of us is in need, everyone cares and helps out. Sommer Marsden is in need…A Snog for Sommer was created.
When I first saw A Snog for Sommer posted online, I was not sure I could contribute because I really did not have a longer piece to steal a kiss from! Luckily, I was told I could contribute any kiss I’ve written. I realized that my contributions for Wicked Wednesday have become a bit of a serial, so I pulled my kiss from there.
You can get a ton of kisses from my fellow writers at A Snog for Sommer today! Sommer Marsden is donating a kiss as well. With all she is going through, she finds writing the most therapeutic thing…
So spread the word on social media, and donate if you can. Giving of yourself: your time, possessions or heart really is the most amazing thing you can do.
Okay time for a snog! And if you leave a comment, I will happily send you an anthology from my catalog. xoxo

“Looking for your fiance? He’s probably not going to come.”

“What do you mean?”

She was sure her eyes darkened like Rafe told her they did when she was mad at him. The stranger was taken off his game for a moment which pleased her.

“I mean I don’t think your fiance is going to come, and I think you are coming with me.”

He held her upper arm loosely, but his grip was firm nonetheless.

“My fiance–”

His finger on her mouth was soft, almost a caress, and she was lulled into silence. She knocked over her drink, and burned with embarrassment. When she looked up at the bartender, he waved her off and she got off the stool as she was being gestured to by this man who she did not know. Her heart was beating calmly, nothing about her was wild as he took her out of the bar.

They waited near the elevators, as he took out a pack of cigarettes. He offered her one, she shook her head but he kept the cigarettes extended until she took one.

“You are going to have a hard time with the obey part of the vows, aren’t you?”

“They do not have that in the vows anymore.”

“They should,” he said inhaling smoke.

Eliza raised her eyebrow at him as he lit a cigarette for her. She had stopped smoking a few years ago when she became domesticated, or rather when she started living with Rafe. But now the feeling of the cigarette in her mouth made her feel happy. Made her think of a time when she was free. It was almost as if she were that person again.

“You think so, huh?” she said blowing out her own cloud of smoke. “Does your wife obey you?”

He snorted.

“I’m not married. But if you vow to be with a man you should obey him, and he should protect you.”

Eliza inhaled and shook her head. She wondered if Rafe was looking for her now. It was a very dim thought in her head, she did not think it would be awful for him to wonder where his perfect fiancée was for a moment.

Perfect, perfect, that was what he said about her and what he expected. She did obey him, and he did protect her but it was hard to be perfect.

“My fiance is perfect,” Eliza said out loud what she was thinking.

“Then what are you doing out here with a stranger when he is looking for you?”

Shrugging and swinging her cigarette back with her arms, from her perfect black dress that Rafe loved her in so much, she declared.

“I am not perfect.”

He grabbed her and kissed her so hard she thought she would lose her breath. Her lips throbbed from his after he pulled away from her, and put his arm about her.

The elevator was right on time and they walked into it. It was mirrored all around and she could see every angle of their bodies.

He kissed her again, this time she was not out of breath but wanted more even as he gave it. When they pulled away this time, he lifted her chin so she looked up at him.

“Are you going to obey me?”

“I am not getting married to you,” she stuck out a her tongue with insouciance.



photo via wikipedia


Wicked Wednesday #119 — Wrong Number

Severine sat on the plane moments before passengers were allowed on. There was a small meeting, as there was a new flight attendant, Barbara. Eleanora, her former nemesis cum co-worker had given her pause to stop thinking about her own life events. Apparently, Eleanora had been conducting an affair with one of the married pilots. Severine had noticed they seemed especially close, but figured it was because Eleanora was an exceptional flirt. But she had sexted him and sent the picture accidentally to his wife–his wife’s mobile was one number different than his. His wife was close with his bosses, and Eleanora was immeadiately terminated.
Severine could not say she was unhappy to see her go, as she got up to walk over to Barbara and start welcoming passengers onboard. As each passenger went by, she was reminded that Oscar was not going to be on the flight. It made her sad. She had not been on an airplane without him since they met.
New York had been everything she expected it to be. Seeing their previous lovers was a good thing, it made them not think heavily about what they were together. They could just be, and not hurt each other. He had dinner with her the night after she had spent the night with Rafe, asked her how she was.
As much as she had tried to resist Rafe, she broke down as soon as she saw him in the bathroom while she was out to dinner with Oscar. She fell apart and even as she broke down, she tried to have a semblance of togetherness.
But it was not there.
The first time they had sex, she tried to be blasé…but the next time when Rafe tugged at her hair and choked her the way she liked, she could no longer resist him. She kissed everything of him her lips could touch. Her lips went everywhere on him, but love she would not declare. She no longer believed in love, everything she knew of it was so easily broken. Love was a myth like unicorns, or maybe it had existed once like dodo birds. But for her it was nonexistent. Sex was another thing, sex was very much alive and well.
When every passenger was accounted for, she closed the door of the aircraft bound for Paris. She was very happy to be working the flight, and going home. New York was lovely. Her English was lovelier too, though heavily accented. But Paris was home. There was no place like home, sitting in her favorite café and lingering forever over a coffee.
Though she knew that if she closed her eyes, she would remember Oscar sitting beside her…or if she looked down in her cup, a tear might escape for Rafe.

More Wicked Wednesday here:


photo by f dot leonora


Coming Undone With Kristina Lloyd!

I am really trying my best not to go all fan girl here, but I am a HUGE fan of Kristina Lloyd! I enjoyed Asking For Trouble followed by Darker Than Love so much, I trolled bookstores looking for her latest offerings. She is a superior writer, and writes the type of dark erotica I adore. Ironically enough, she is going to explore that dark decadence as part of her blog tour here. I am delighted to be a leg on her tour, in support of Undone…so without further ado, let’s come undone with Kristina!

Undone and dark erotica

The word “dark” is often applied to my erotica, both by others and myself. I like it, but sometimes I wonder what it means. Does it refer to boundary-pushing sex? Politically or morally problematic desires? Characters who are damaged? Troubled? In danger?

I’ve never written a character whose predilection for BDSM is a consequence of past abuses, and if I ever do, please revoke my writing privileges. Nor do I write about genuine trauma of the sort where Social Services should intervene. My characters however are frequently troubled by the relationship they’re developing, or the kind of sex they’re having. They’re anxious, conflicted, and they’re going to continue along the same dangerous path because they’re in the grip of an erotic compulsion.

“Dark” in the context of erotica suggests, I think, a book which allows readers to luxuriate in a story they might not want to fully experience in real life. To me, dark has a velvety quality. Interpretations are always going to be subjective and my second book, Asking for Trouble, is the one most likely to be rejected as “too dark” by some people. My third book, Split, is set in a puppet museum on the Yorkshire moors. I describe it as “Wuthering Heights with bondage”, and an eerie Gothicism informs the darkness in that book. The setting isn’t the most obvious choice for an erotic novel but I loved creating that disquieting, off-kilter atmosphere.

My fifth book, Undone, hits the shelves tomorrow, 11th September, and opens with the discovery of a body in a swimming pool. The dead man is Misha Morozov, one of two men my protagonist, Lana Greenwood, has just spent the night with. Lana owns a cocktail bar, The Blue Bar, and I had a great time building this bar in my imagination. Last week, I wrote about the inspiration behind Lana’s bar, and how I took the history of a small building in my town, Brighton, and gave it to my fictional bar. The building which inspired me was, I discovered, a funeral parlour in the nineteenth century. I couldn’t leave such a detail out, especially in a narrative where my central character is haunted by a man’s death.

Here’s a short excerpt:

My vision for The Blue Bar came together when I learned the building had been a funeral parlour in the nineteenth century. Inspired by that fact, I chose a Victorian Gothic aesthetic with a muted, background colour scheme of black, silver and cream. I wanted the room to look like a fucked-up fairy tale, an antechamber in a palace of seductive dangers forever under threat of forest vines encroaching from outside. I think I achieved my goal.

The walls are cream satin with a faint shimmer of fleur-de-lys, and a sleek, stuffed crow in a tall, glass dome watches over events with black, unseeing eyes. A row of booths opposite the bar in dark oak and upholstered black leather are customised church pews, now reminiscent of open compartments on a macabre pleasure train. I like to imagine they once carried satanic day trippers to and fro along the blasted wastelands of an apocalyptic beach.

I don’t make a big deal of the fact the bar is housed in a former chapel of rest. Sometimes, however, people enquire about the architectural features. Paradoxically, perhaps, given its potential for historic morbidity, the chapel’s stained-glass windows provide a sense of respite and tranquility. They were my starting point when I conceived of the bar’s design. The main windows, at the head of an alcove with a wooden, barrel-vault ceiling, are actually casement doors opening onto a small ironwork balcony. Directly above the two wings of the glass door is a matching stained-glass semi-circle, and the combined effect is of a saintly arch. The glass is formed of small leaded panes, a tiling of coloured squares. Daylight shines through the delicate blues, lilacs and the pale sea-greens, creating a hazy island of beatific calm that would have once fallen onto a gleaming casket or pasty-faced corpse.

That pool of soft, subaquatic light inspired the actual bar, a cubed LED counter inset with blue luminosity. The combination of enchanted gothic and industrial minimalism could have clashed horribly. Instead, the counter seems to hover like an uncertain mirage, echoing the stained-glass balcony doors and complementing the weird magic of the place.

I’d hoped to create a sense of the bar being a hub leading to other worlds. My table tops are clear glass while the chairs are reproduction Rococo in black velour and silver. I have an oval vintage mirror framed in cream and fixed at a wonky angle. It’s a looking glass Snow White might have peered into after one gin gimlet too many. ‘Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the drunkest of them all?


If you’d like to know more about Undone, please hop over to my blog for an excerpt, and check out the other stops on my Sexy September blog tour.

Kristina Lloyd writes erotic fiction about sexually submissive women who like it on the dark, dirty and dangerous side. Her novels are published by Black Lace and her short stories have appeared in dozens of anthologies, including several ‘best of’ collection, in both the UK and US. She lives in Brighton, England.

About Undone

When Lana Greenwood attends a glamorous house party she finds herself tempted into a ménage à trois. But the morning after brings more than just regrets over fulfilling a fantasy one night stand. One of the men she’s spent the night with is discovered dead in the swimming pool. Accident, suicide or murder, no one is sure and Lana doesn’t know where to turn. Can she trust Sol, the other man, an ex-New Yorker with a dirty smile and a deep desire to continue their kinky game?

Amazon UK paperback :: Amazon UK Kindle :: Amazon US Kindle :: Amazon CA paperback :: Amazon CA Kindle

Sticky Note No. 8

So here is one from Paris…I could not resist writing from my table at a favorite café, and there were story ideas exploding all around me!

It was warmer in Paris than she had expected. She stopped in front of their café and she knew she looked good, because several men had paused to say “Bonjour,” while she was walking by. Getting out of the Parisian taxi, reminded her that she used to smoke and that she would resume as she always did in Paris. But sitting at the café in their corner, she was not thinking about cigarettes or anything else really…except him…



Wicked Wednesday #118 — Silence

Silence was what she wanted. Polly looked out of the car window, she did not want to talk to Oscar.
Probably she had already said too much.
When Oscar told her that she was mean to him, she was afraid that he would connect two and two quickly. They had both started working at the same time, and she thought he was beautiful. But she was determined not to get involved in the messy business of seeing a co-worker. It was perfect because neither did Oscar, which she had to admit she liked. She had no idea who he was involved with, and there were no messy rumors about him.
She was married to her job for the most part, having amassed enough to start buying the art that she normally sold. It made her very happy. The De Lempicka on her lap was actually something she could afford, but now her eyes were on something else that she was saving toward. The photographer that had taken the photograph of Oscar in the morning’s newspaper was an up and coming her eyes were on as well. She had captured a side of him she had never seen, she never got close to him.
She remained silent, turned away from Oscar to avoid any more slips. When she did turn for a second, she saw he looked out of the window as well. Traffic prevented them from really having any view, Polly feigned sleep so that she would not have to talk to him. She closed her eyes, thought about her upcomong trip to Shanghai where she and Oscar would be going soon again. They had been in so many countries together since they had started working together. So many things, that if they were friendly it would have been nice to share. But they were not anything.
Her last trip to Shanghai was followed by returning to her penthouse, and the man she was seeing telling her her job took up too much of her time. He needed to be with someone who would have more time for him.
It pissed her off that in the twenty-first century, she would have a breakup over something like that. Women did not even need men anymore, the problem was she wanted one. She loved the feeling of a man touching her, being close to her. The hardness of his body versus the softness of hers, the feeling of being full and conquered when he was inside her.
Her thoughts drifted to the last time a man made her feel like that. The next thing she knew the scent of roses was replaced by clean linen, she started roughly. She half covered Oscar, her hair in her mouth damp from drool. She was almost hysterical as she pushed at his hard chest.
“I’m sorry!”
The silence was broken. He smiled, as he shrugged. Polly stared at him, as he looked out of the window again. She realized that this self-inflicted war she was having was trite. There was no reason why she was this way with him, when he really was never any particular way with her.
“You fell asleep but you had a death grip on the De Lempicka. I was never afraid that you would drop it!”
“This De Lempicka, I could buy if I wanted. But, well, I am not going to. This is a small one, but still lovely.”
“You know I really meant it Polly that you are amazing at what you do. I was wrong to insinuate anything else…”
Polly wiped the drool from the corner of her mouth. She was less embarassed about it than she would have been, since he was so blase about it. She saw the moisture in his suit, trailing where she had been lying against him.
“My entire life has been very competitive. But after you drool on someone, you kind of lose your edge, don’t you?”
Polly laughed at her own joke, and Oscar laughed too.
Polly held the De Lempicka and her principles tightly. She could be friendly with Oscar, male and female colleagues could be cordial.
When they arrived at their destination, Polly walked out of the car in her impossibly high stilettos. She herself was a little less impossible to access as she followed Oscar.

More Wicked Wednesday here:


detail of a tamara de lempicka by f dot leonora

A Darker Flame: Reigning King

This is my second contribution to A Darker Flame. I love that Chris says to combine another genre with erotica, and since I am an ID addict, it was kind of a no-brainer what I would come up with…

Adora was heady from riding the waves of her orgasm, and now from being tied up on the bed. Elijah dressed all in black looked sadistic and terrifying, but alluring to her as he never had before. Stubble on his usually impeccably smooth face and open rage, he stalked about like a king.
Her emotions ran amok, since it was hard to know what to feel when she was being tortured by her partner. But as he kicked Didier again and caressed her cheek with the butt of his gun, she was completely terrified.
Didier was sullen and bruised. His battle to get the better of Elijah, had ended up with him being pistol whipped and smothered with chloroform.
Lying on her side unable to push her hair out of her eyes, she blinked as she studied Elijah. The sardonic smile on his face.
“I was not supposed to know, but I know. I didn’t know right from the start, but then I found out. I guess you both had a really good laugh at my expense. The silly scientist being betrayed by his lover and boss…” Elijah’s eyes were distant as his voice trailed off.
“Elijah–” Adora started.
“No!” Elijah’s voice boomed. “I don’t want to hear anything from you Adora. Not now.”
He stalked like a big cat to pause over Didier. Kicked him again.
“Do you like her tied up? She likes that you know, to be tied up. But…” Elijah leaned against the wall. “Might be the last time you see her like that. Might be the last time she is ever tied up. It’s all up to me. Whatever I want…”
Elijah walked across the room to the window. Adora watched Didier, his bruised jaw tense as he studied Elijah, holding his side where he was kicked.
“You’re not a man. Why because you have a gun? You’re a pussy with arms.” Didier spat out, saliva and blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth.
“You think you are going to psych me out? No Didier, the two of you have played enough games with my mind.”
Adora wanted to speak, but the way he had screamed at her before made her feel like she should not say anything and make him any angrier. She felt guilty for her part in this, but it had not been as simple as one man over another.
Elijah closed the curtains.
“I want to play a game now.” He turned off the lights. Adora closed her eyes with fear. When she opened them, she recognized her enlarged handwriting on the curtains. “Let’s see if we can guess who this is about Didier. You see Adora is sleeping with both of us–I just had her when she was in Chile. My tongue was all over that corset…”
He walked over to the bed, his nail dragged along the push of her breasts offered at the top of the corset.
“Exactly as I thought…” He moved his finger from between her legs to his lips and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he said as if there had not been a distraction. “Let’s read. Adora? You have to read so we have the right emphasis, don’t you think?”
Adora rolled on the bed, which was pleasure and pain in her present state of bondage. Elijah caressed her cheek again with the butt of the pistol. She tried to open her mouth, but tears filled her eyes and mucous and saliva flooded her mouth. Her own words came to betray her on the curtain: the description of what had happened in their Chilean hotel suite just before she arrived on the island…
“Stop crying!” His voice boomed again and she cried all the more. Her vision was blurry, as whiteness came like a cloud to her face…
When she woke up, she had no idea where she was for a moment. Until she saw Elijah dressed all in black in the mirror: the reigning king of her terror.

Darker flames can be found here:


photo via wikipedia


Amaretto Sour

This cocktail story is one of many cocktail stories, you can find more here. We are all raising our glass in honor of the upcoming release of Kristina Lloyd’s latest novel Undone. It’s an all-day celebration kicking off a blog tour that will be stopping here as well.
I am so excited about this book! Kristina is a master of the genre. Her books have all the elements I love: they are sexy, dark and psychologically rich. I am constantly gifting her novels to friends…
And now my cocktail story, Kristina helped me to decide which cocktail I would go with…and I might raise an amaretto sour to Kristina later today…

“That is too sweet,” he said after she ordered her cocktail.
Kit pursed her lips, and swiveled around on her bar stool.
Too sweet was what she was going for: hair pulled up in a bun, pink vintage dress circa 1940 and a decadent cameo that grazed her impressive cleavage. When her amaretto sour was placed in front of her, she leaned toward the bartender.
“Extra cherries please,” she smiled softly, making eye contact so he would not be stingy.
He smiled back and dropped in two extra cherries, when his equally vintage-suited up and suspendered colleague dropped even more cherries into the drink.
“There you go honey,” she smiled, adjusting her bowtie. “They match your outfit!”
Kit smiled, and turned back to her date.
“You can’t be serious,” he said, his eyes moving below her cameo.
Taking a sip of her amaretto sour, she dipped her finger in the glass to pull out a cocktail-soaked cherry.
“Are you?”
He scoffed.
“You want the same thing I want. You want me to fuck the sweetness out of you…”
Kit wanted to slap him, but she did not want to create a scene in Prohibition. She figured she would have a nice drink with Thom, who she had been chatting with online and who was as into the retro lifestyle as she was. But from the moment he judged her drink, she was done.
He continued to talk about the filthy things she wanted him to do to her. She was not turned on in the least, discreetly ogling the gorgeous bartender who had put two more cherries in her drink. Jackson was on his nametag. She also smiled as Josephine’s nametag came into view, while she plucked at the cherries she had saved for last at the bottom of her drink.
“Would you like another honey?” Josephine asked.
Thom answered before Kit could.
“No, she wants a real drink this time. Give her a–“
“Yes, I would like another amaretto sour,” Kit added. “with extra cherries.”
“Are you serious? I have kind of had it with the sweet and innocent act Kitty–“
The second she heard Kitty, she snapped. Schoolgirl taunts about Hello Kitty were ressurected.
She got up.
“Where are you going Kitty?”
Thom’s voice grew distant as she walked into the bathroom, and sat in one of the plush pink lounge chairs. The door opened behind her, and she was afraid he had followed her in.
“Are you okay Kitty?”
Kit looked at Josephine who had followed her.
“It’s Kit. No one calls me Kitty.”
Josephine nodded and walked out. She returned holding an amaretto sour with a pyramid of cherries inside, presented on a Prohibition branded lace doily.
“He’s still out there, chatting up tonight’s hopeful conquest.”
Kit sipped the very sweet amaretto sour, letting her tongue swirl around the cherry pyramid.
“You are way too pretty for him anyway!”
Kit laughed, caressing her cotton candy pink stockinged leg.
“Thank you, it’s nice when us girls stick together!”
“Yeah, it is!”
Josephine was sexy in suspenders, a buttoned-up shirt, tailored pants and bowtie.
“How late are you working tonight?” she asked Josephine looking in the mirror to see her reflection.
“Why are you gonna wait for me?”
Kit blushed, which made her even pinker in her outfit.
Josephine stood up,
“Another amaretto sour doll? Extra cherries?”
“Do you want anything else doll?”
Kit stood up, she and Josephine were eye to eye in the bubble gum pink lounge.
“What did you have in mind?”
Josephine’s lips tasted like maraschino cherries, and her curves underneath Kit’s hands were equally as round and sweet. Pressed to the cushioned wall, Kit was sloppy wet between her legs. When Josephine pulled away, she chewed on her lower lip. Kit swooned from the amaretto sour and Josephine’s lips.
“Was that what you had in mind Kit?”
Kit grinned and pulled her close, running her hands over Josephine’s sinfully curvy behind.
“I have a show tonight otherwise I would have gone home with you.” Josephine whispered.
The two women exchanged numbers, and Josephine walked out of the ladies’ room. Kit had one final lingering look at Josephine’s backside until she reached the bar.
“There you are!”
It was Jackson the bartender. She walked over to the bar with a smile, confident her lipstick was not smudged.
“I needed to make this for you.” Kit looked at the champagne glass filled with cotton candy, that dissolved as Jackson poured champagne over it. “On the house for the pretty pink lady…”
She didn’t need another drink, but he had made it for her and she had wanted to have face time with him all night.
“Thank you,” she smiled, raising her glass.
“That guy you were with was really lame. With a girl looking as sweet as you do.”
“You’re making me all red.”
“No, I could but I haven’t. I am being the gentleman that creep was not. He left with another girl, and if it had not been her it would have been anyone.”
“He did not seem that way online, but in person…lame.”
“That cocktail sweet enough?”
“More than enough. Can I have extra cotton candy on the side?”
“You always want extra!” Jackson laughed handing her a ream of cotton candy.
She did not know how to eat it delicately, so sticky threads stuck to her cheeks. Jackson caressed her cheek softly.
“You are making it really hard for me to not make you turn red Kitty.”
“My friends call me Kit.”
“Does anyone call you Katherine?”
“You do.”
She stayed with him until the bar closed, eating lots more cotton candy.
His loosened tie and suspenders hanging over his hips while counting money was the sexiest thing through her cotton candy vision. Jackson closed the pouch with money, and turned to see her looking at him.
“Will you come see me again?” he stood in front of her, as she arched back against the counter.
“If you want me to.”
“I want..”
He licked cotton candy from around her mouth, and on her lips. Kit grabbed his suspenders to pull herself closer to him. He barely moved his lips from hers. Every time she thought they were done, another sweet kiss.
They exchanged numbers, as he walked her outside for a taxi. The Prohibtion taxis were pink, she crawled into one with leftover pink roses from the bar, cotton candy and a wet kiss from Jackson.
She closed the door on the tip of her cotton candy. Plucking that piece off, she realized it was the sweetest date night ever…


Wicked Wednesday #117 — Flowers

Settling in the backseat of the town car that picked him up for his meeting crosstown, all Oscar could think of was roses. The roses in the hotel lobby Severine walked past when they arrived days ago. They were deep scarlet. Her smile framed by scarlet roses was so beautiful, he had barely made it upstairs with her.
When they got to New York, they both knew that they had stuff to deal with. He knew she was not insincere when she was with him, but when she talked about Rafe he could see her heart was bruised. And he never told her about Shanghai, because he wanted something of Eliza to himself.
When he met Eliza in the hotel restaurant, there were bright red petals on her arms as she drank fresh-squeezed orange juice. There were rose petals on him as they went up in the elevator. He watched her when she saw the reflection in the mirror of the man she had had dinner with the night before with Severine. Eliza slumped even more against him, as they got off the elevator and took his hand as they walked into the hallway.
Oscar was happy he and Severine were staying in separate rooms. He had to have meetings in his, so it was best that way. Eliza walked ahead of him into the room after he opened the door.
He did not turn on the light.
“You still want me?”
She nodded without hesitation. He wondered if it was revenge sex. Or lack of guilt sex, because she knew that her fiance was with someone else. He studied her, but she was closed.
“Show me.”
“Hold me.”
Her voice soft and pleading, he knew intuitively what she was feeling. A combination of what he thought she was feeling, and things he did not know because he had no idea the dynamic of this relationship that she held onto yet made her stray in the first place with him.
He held her close, she smelled like roses. She always did, but this time perfumed and fresh ones because petals were on her.
Close to her he lacked control. Though he was not sure she was there emotionally, he wanted her. And her body began to demand from his, everything he wanted to do to her.
Naked except for rose petals was how he remembered her now, as he got a text from her. Her naked back rising from the bed covered in rose petals.
It was Severine’s lips that matched the roses in a firm line looking at him later. She started speaking French, as she did when she was mad or frustrated. He felt vulnerable as he felt rose petals float over his body on the bed.
He could still smell Eliza.
“She is the woman, I did not know…” Severine started in English.
Oscar propped himself up on pillows.
“No one knew…”
“Rafe was furious, he is the type of man he would cheat on her, but want her to be encased in glass.”
“What about you? What does he want of you?”
Severine looked down at the bed, a tear fell on a rose petal. He sat up stretching his long legs onto the floor, squishing rose petals under the soles of his feet. More rose petals squished as he held her close against him…
“Well do you want me to sit in your lap Oscar?”
Oscar had lost track of time thinking about Eliza and Severine. He had not noticed they were already at Polly’s townhouse. Polly would take his mind off everything, because she never hid her dislike for him. She stood angrily outside the car.
“Hello Polly,” he said kissing her cheek, which she disregarded as she sat in the back with a small painting after he moved aside hastily.
She smelled like a bouquet of flowers. When he first met her he was attracted to her, but made it a rule not to date people he worked with. Polly made it very easy, she was always super crisp with him.
“Don’t hello Polly me! We are going to be late as per usual when I have to go see a client with you!”
“We will be fine–“
She turned and looked at him directly which was rare.
“I saw you in the newspaper, making art of yourself. You are like a rock star in the office…Well, I am not a groupie. I am all about business, and not the business of you making me look bad!”
“You got the DeLempicka?”
Polly smiled,
“Of course. I am good at what I do, I just don’t make a show of it like you.”
“Polly, you are amazing at what you do. You are lovely with clients, and a terror with your colleagues. Well at least me.”
“Are you accusing me of being badly behaved? I am never! I was raised to be a lady. You just bring out the worst in me…”
Oscar looked out of the window, secretly happy to be even in this moment with a woman who disliked him. It was grounding.
He looked down at the painting, and saw Polly’s stilettos on rose petals. Rose petals on her hip.
Everything was roses…

More Wicked Wednesday here:


photo by f dot leonora


I’m Across The Pond Today!!!

Tabitha Rayne who I adore, she is a brilliant writer included in my first anthology, MY FIRST THREESOME and is just a brilliant human being in general! She is also a member of the fabulous Brit Babes, and believe me they are fabulous! When Tabitha personally invited me to guest blog I was beyond tickled pink–join me over at their blog today where they even provided the pink bubbly for me!

photo by f dot leonora