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Sunday, September 26, 2010

"Crippled by Love" - excerpt

Ian Yarrow is rich and reclusive, hiding himself away from the rest of the world. At least that's what Cynthia Marshall is told when her boss at the newspaper sends her to do an in depth article on him for the society section of the paper. What she finds surprises her, a handsome young man in a wheelchair. His self-confidence gone, he withdraws from those around him, erecting walls and roadblocks in order to protect himself. Cynthia has some hard questions for him, a few he doesn't really want to answer, but getting to the truth is the only thing that will set him free.

“Something about you girls with the fiery locks that makes a man weak,” he sighed.

“All me.” She tossed her short hair. “Well, some highlights, but the red is all me.”

He wasn't staring at her hair. She was wearing a flimsy T-shirt and no bra. He could tell by the way her breasts jiggled when she moved. He was mesmerized.

“Hello? The face is up here,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Instead of covering her breasts up, the crossed arms popped them up and outward. Her nipples seemed to chastise him for looking at them. He couldn't help it, he was fascinated. She was beautiful, intelligent, confident and very much her own woman. She'd put up with him when he was acting like a spoiled child, then turned around and gave him one of the best nights of his life.

She snapped her fingers in front of his face. “Excuse me! When I need you to stare at my tits, I'll tell you. I think you'll do a bang-up job. You seem to be talented in that area already.”

“Sorry,” he grinned apologetically. “They're very nice tits, Cynthia. Extraordinary, in fact.”

“One pair is tits is like another.”

“You say that because you have them. See, when you're on the receiving end of tits, not sporting a pair, you notice the differences. Some are perky and pert, round and firm—the compact model. Others are saggy and well worn, the sedan model. Then there are those that are extra round, excessively pert, ultra soft, and firmly delicious—the sporty model. And those are what you have.”

“I've got sporty tits?” She didn't know whether to be flattered or horrified.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Thank you. I think? Is that a compliment?”

“It sure is from my perspective.”

“Which is what?”

“The perspective of a man who's strongly attracted to you.”

“Why do you date married women?”

“Why would you ask me a question like that? I just told you I'm attracted to you.”

“Why?”

“Why what? Why am I attracted or why do I date married women?”

“Both.”

He sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. “They don't expect a commitment. They don't want anything but the sex and to feel desirable for a little while.”

“And me? You told me Thursday, you'd do anything with the right equipment.”

“An exaggeration. Once in awhile, I indulge in some naughty, meaningless sex with a willing female—married or not. It's not every night, not even every week. We have a mutually satisfying encounter. Is that a crime?”

“But why me? I mean, you've done super models and trophy wives. I'm not like any of those women. For one thing, my parts are all original.”

“I don't know, Cynthia. There's something about you....”

“What? What is there about me?”

Frustrated, he leaned back on the chaise, arms crossed. “I don't know. You excite me like no other woman I've met. I don't understand it. There's just something about you....”

He was angry that he couldn't put his feelings into words. That had never happened to him before. He could always say what he thought.

“What is there about me? What? I need to know, Yarrow, before this can go any further.”

“You look past the chair and you see me—me! You don't pretend to like me because I'm rich. You argue with me and make me angrier than anyone else I've ever met, then you show me that somewhere under this worthless set of legs, there's still a whole man.”

Frustrated beyond words, he levered himself upward and got into his chair. It took him a lot longer than he liked. It was hard making a strategic retreat when he had to move his legs with his hands, but he did it with all the dignity he could muster. He was headed toward the door when her voice stopped him.

“At least now you're being honest with yourself.”

He bridled at her remark. “You think I'm dishonest?”

She walked over to him, gazing into his remarkably expressive eyes. “I think you lie to yourself about a lot of things. It's easier to lie than see the truth.”

“What do I lie about?” His tone and demeanor were defiant.

“About not wanting commitment. About the fact that sex is meaningless to you. But when you talk about how irritated I make you, you're honest. And you're honest about your attraction. When you finally put the thoughts into words, you were honest about that too.”

“So, what's your opinion of all this honesty?”

“I haven't decided yet,” she said with a secretive smile. “I'll be sure to tell you when I do.”

She strutted out, swinging perfect hips and a heart shaped ass at eye level. Sometimes being short paid off. Admiring the view, he watched her until she reached the stairs. He couldn't follow her up, but he could stare at her as she climbed the stairs. Was it his imagination, or was she purposely adding an extra swing to those fabulous hips? He laughed softly, his lopsided grin pulling at his lips as his eyes devoured her, his imagination running wild.

Dear God, she's amazing! Maybe soon I can do more than just....

“If you like my ass so much,” Cynthia called down the stairs. “Maybe you need to ask yourself what you can do to earn it. Goodnight.”


Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Thanks to My Marvelous Guests!

I can't seem to get Facebook working, but I wanted to thank my fantastic guests, Rhys Bowen, Jennie Helderman and Juliet Waldron for being on my show today on Blog Talk Radio. http://www.blogtalkradio.com/rrradio/2010/09/22/whats-write-for-me

Sunday, September 19, 2010

"Starting Over"

As many of you know, I always have more than one work in progress. This newest one, "Starting Over", is one that I started when I was visiting my mother. "Starting Over" is the story of Ellen Burke, a 28 year old woman trapped in a loveless marriage with an abusive spouse, Rodney. Fortunately, her neighbors help her get away from her husband. She finds surprising love and support in Jerry, the 18 year old son of her best friend, Violet. She had no idea that Jerry was anything but a friend until he tells her how he feels about her. Rodney gets out of jail, so Jerry's family takes her into their apartment for the night.

“Let's get to bed,” Jerry said. Then he laughed, realizing how that sounded. “Should I rephrase that?”

“No. I understood what you meant.”

“Too bad. A misunderstanding could be more than a little interesting.” He raised an eyebrow, smirking at her. His full lips twitched and his green eyes sparkled.

“Maybe sometime when my soon to be ex isn't out of jail and stalking me.”

Jerry nodded. “When he's a little more ex, we'll make plans.” He nodded toward the bedrooms. “You'll be in my room and I'm gonna stay on the couch.”

“I can sleep on the couch....”

“Look, if he does happen to come by—maybe he'll figure out you're down here. If he got past the guys, then I'm in the living room. Love to see that drunken son-of-a-bitch get past me.”

He flexed and Ellen saw he had a very impressive physique under that baggy clothing. She had the sudden urge to see him without his shirt, figuring that the view would be pretty damn tasty. He laughed and Ellen realized she'd been staring at him. Not just him, at the button on his jeans and lower. Was there more of him than there had been a few moments ago? There was. She allowed herself a secretive smile as she enjoyed a moment of ultimate power. His interest was indeed genuine and that pleased her.

“Oh, babe, don't look at me like that. Please? Makes me wanna forget I'm a gentleman.”

“Sorry, it's been a long day. I'm pretty tired.” And you're the best looking thing to walk this floor.

“Yeah, that's it.” He moved toward her, taking her hand to his lips. “Why's it so hard for you to admit you find me attractive?”

“I'm old enough to be your mom!”

“Even if that were true, that doesn't answer my question.” He kissed her fingers, then turned her hand over and kissed her palm.

Ellen gasped as a thrill ran down her spine. Jerry smiled, nibbling at the base of her thumb. She shivered uncontrollably, liking the sensations that coursed through her.

“I'm a married—woman!” She gasped breathlessly.

“That's still not an answer.” He continued to kiss and nibble.

“Oh, dammit, do you know what that does to me?” She whispered. “Do you know?”

“Oh, yes....” His voice dropped into a low, seductive range that made her shiver.

“Stop!”

“Do you really want me to?” He continued, amping it up a little by sucking on her fingers, his tongue tickling the tips.

“Oh, God!” A little moan escaped her.

He smiled and laughed, nipping the tip of her thumb before giving her back her hand. Ellen didn't know what to think or do. She was ridiculously attracted to a man almost half her age. Not only was he younger, but she was married. What good did it do to admit her attraction if she couldn't act on it?

But why can't you act on it? It's not like Rodney's always been faithful. You know he's had one affair after another. Why honor your vows when he hasn't honored his? She argued with herself. Because, if I don't hold to my marriage vows, how am I any better than he is?

“I cleaned up today, figuring that you might be here.”

“How could you even anticipate that?”

“Wishful thinking?” He winked and opened the door.

It was a typical young man's room. A queen sized bed dominated the space. A computer desk stood in one corner, a dresser in the other. Band posters on the walls showed that he liked a lot of the same bands she did; Metallica, Iron Maiden, Led Zeppelin, Queen and Pink Floyd were represented. A high-end speaker system graced the headboard of the bed. There was a skateboard leaning on the wall next to the closet door.

“Not fancy, but there's clean sheets on the bed. If you need a shower, there's clean towels.”

“I already bathed.” And thought of you.... “Thanks.”

“No problem. Happy to help out.”

He leaned toward her and she knew he wanted to kiss her. She knew that was what she wanted too. Their lips met and a spark jumped between them. Ellen went weak in the knees, losing her balance. She fell toward Jerry and he caught her in a very strong embrace. His arms felt good around her, his lips delicious. Ellen couldn't get enough of his kisses.

If he does this that well, what else can he do? She tried to dislodge that thought, but it wouldn't leave. All she wanted was for him to continue and carry on to the logical, intimate, sweaty, heart racing conclusion. I shouldn't be having these thoughts. He's a kid!—He feels like a man to me!

Jerry kissed her a long time, but eventually, they separated. “I need to let you get to bed.”

“Thanks, Jerry. For everything....”

“You know what I'm gonna go do now, right?”

She frowned, not sure what he meant.

“Gonna go take a long, hot shower, lather it up—and think about you til I cum,” he whispered huskily.

He licked her ear from lobe to top. Straightening suddenly, he moved down the hall to the bathroom, and Ellen knew he was telling her the truth. Part of her was flattered. Part of her didn't know what to think.

Ellen got into bed and turned off the lamp by the bed. She stared at the ceiling and grinned. Someone had taken glow in the dark paint and created constellations all over it. Closing her eyes, she could still imagine the stars watching over her as she slept.