Sensual Sunday – Ordinary Things

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Half a glass of garnet colored wine on a sunlit table.

Childhood photos; blues fading leaving yellow to paint a thousand words.

Piles of chocolate chips collapsing softly into a rich molten puddle.

Freshly laundered sheets– snapping them open and stretching taught over the mattress.

The drape of a bias cut silk dress on a beautiful woman.

The smell of woodsmoke in my hair.

Steam rising from the roadway pavement after a cool summer rain.

Strawberry decorations on vintage juice glasses.

The way a diagonally cut sandwich triangle fits nicely in our hand and the satisfying first bite on the edge of the center of the longest plane.

The satisfying click of an pen lid snapping into place.

Glass marbles in a jar.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sensual Sunday – Candy Apple Kisses

Sensual Sunday is a weekly sensual observation or short story.


SS_carnival

He bought me a candy apple.  The kind with the hard glossy coating and I smiled coyly as he presented it to me.  It was fancy, for a carnival apple, wrapped elegantly with a bow closing it at the top.  I stuck my finger inside one of the red and white gingham loops and traced it with my finger.  I twirled one of the loose ends and tugged, popping the ribbon free.  He held his hand out and I dropped it into his palm, as though it were a pair of my panties.  As he watched, I peeled the sticking wrapper away from the treat, enjoying the crinkle of the genuine cellophane.  My smile was toothy and joyful now, as I felt my teasing kitten routine falter for a moment.  As soon as I put tongue to the apple’s sweet coating, I turned my eyes up at him.  He smiled, proud he’d pleased me.  I thought about kneeling right there on the pavement and unzipping his jeans.  Pulling him out and putting candy apple kisses all over it.  My tender knees on the bumpy biting asphalt.  People stopping to stare.  Couples getting turned on and rushing home to fuck each others’ brains out.  I ran my lips across the damp sticky lollipop surface and stepped in to kiss him.  We stood there, the smell of popcorn and cotton candy, the lights and whirling sounds and chatter of people all around us.  He pressed against me so hard I thought I would fall over.  I could feel him hard, right through his jeans, and I was aching to touch him there.  We held each other tightly as he licked the sticky cherry flavoring from my lips.  He’s usually a shy boy, so he pulled away when he noticed people stopping, furrowing their brows and giving us disapproving looks.  Not much later that evening we would sneak into my basement rec-room while my parents slept innocently two floors above us.

Sensual Sunday

I love doing themes!  Particularly those with alliteration – like Wonderful Word Wednesday.  It’s motivating and inspires me to push myself a bit.  I want to try Sensual Sunday posts.  Essentially, I’ll post about something sensual– that is to say, anything pleasurable.  Most will likely have an erotic bent to them.

Inaugural SS – enjoy.

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The smell of coffee on a lazy morning.  I watch as he stands naked in the kitchen, making the brew.  Sunlight pours in the large window, highlighting hipbones, collarbones, knees and shoulders.  The soft down on the back of his neck, where it is warm and a good place to kiss, tickles my nose as I nuzzle, eyes closed.  He smells of spicy conditioner and cotton pillowcases.

He sets the heavy mug down, making a soft thud when it connects with the counter.  He turns and I can see he is ready to return to bed, not to sleep.  His hands hold my face as he bends to meet my mouth with his. We breathe each other in for a moment.  Without a word, his hand slides down my arm, clasps my hand and leads me to his bed.

 

Shenanigans in Publishing

I keep up with what’s going on in the self-publishing market, for obvious reasons (oy, with the research, can’t a girl just write something?) and I wanted to share THIS ARTICLE just because it’s the strangest article I’ve ever read.  At first I thought it was a satire article – in part because photo looks so staged and in part because…just…so.many.things.

Even as I’m about to post this, I double-checked to make sure it wasn’t the plot of a weekly evening soap opera.  An interesting read even if you aren’t in the book world.  But especially if you’re in the romance and erotica book world.  And also, anybody who follows Amazon and their shenanigans.

Can’t we all just play nice?

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Heartstrings

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Do you ever find yourself on the cusp of a feeling and you try to use music to intensify that feeling?

Maybe it’s somewhat silly to even post because people use music to evoke feeling all the time.  For weddings, you’ll find love songs and joyful tunes.  If you’re angry and want to rage against the machine you can, well, listen to Rage Against the Machine.  Of course there is the ever-popular post breakup wallow.

But I’m not really talking about those sorts of things.  I’m talking about finding a feeling.  You feel something welling up in you, but you aren’t certain what it is.  Is it that you’re about to be sad?  Or maybe you’re just feeling particularly loving?

I have restless music days.  Days where I change the channel on Spotify or switch to Songza or Pandora, searching.  What melody, what lyrics, what genre is going to vibrate the correct heartstrings?  It’s like having one of those itches that you scratch, but it moves.  You keep chasing it, but you still have the sensation of the itch, just beneath your skin.

When I find the right music the restlessness settles.  My soul tunes in and I tend to get stuck on it for days.  Looping a limited playlist or even listening to the same song several times in one day.  Sometimes in a row.  The itch is scratched and I use the feelings to make something.

What I Learned from You

What I Learned From You

that strawberries and basil actually go well together
and i will never eat them

that some flowery scents can smell sweet
and then sour

that some people can seem sweet
and then bitter

and some people will be mad at you for believing their lies

and make you the villain in their story

so they don’t have to own any blame

Red August

Just a reminder – summer is coming. And so is some Red Riding Hood and werewolf romance.

H.L. Brooks

Coming this Summer

HLBrooks_RedAugust_blurb

What if you found out that you were descended from a long line of clandestine fighters, and that your family was still at war? Or that the love of your life was something other than human? August Archer thinks she’s a normal teenage girl—even though she has been having disturbing and erotic dreams about wolves lately. Still grieving over the loss of her bookish, charming father, and wondering over his final gift of a red hooded cloak, August is uprooted from her New York City apartment to a tiny town in Maryland, and the rambling Victorian house where he grew up. There she meets a wise woman with a gift for herbal medicine, the gentle old man who keeps the house in repair and the grounds thriving, and her new neighbor: an enigmatic, irresistibly fascinating man who refuses to talk to her, yet who seems to know…

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