Short story, just for fun. And it's a naughty one...

Most of my blog postings have featured other writers as guests, rather than my own work. So just for a change, here's one of my adults-only short stories.

My main writing interest at the moment is erotic romance. To me, this means a story with characters and a plot which includes at least the strong prospect of an intimate encounter. My ideal would be a story which works to some extent without the naughty bits, but those are rather fun to think about and write!

I enjoy thinking about situations which seem plausible and realistic, and characters who I might just meet. None of the locations or characters are based exclusively on any I know, of course. They're all composites drawn from multiple real and imaginary sources.

Some of my writing has been described as light-hearted and fun, which I found rather flattering. No harm in writing stories people find entertaining and amusing, after all. I find it's easier to do this in short stories. The novel I'm revising at the moment has a lot of darker moments, but having a lot more time to develop a storyline gives me scope for a wider variety of moods.

The Document Conservator

Copyright 2014, Ian D Smith. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.

Julia couldn’t stop turning it over in her mind. She woke early after another restless night. At work even earlier than usual, she decided to see what the gardeners had done in the last few days. The gardens drew in more visitors during the summer, the old house more during the winter.

The forecast was promising a hot, sunny August and the sky was cloudless. It promised to be a fabulous day. 

She admired the perfect lawns and the vibrant displays in all the borders, tubs and hanging baskets, the neatly trimmed hedging between the different garden areas. She walked through the gardens to look at the neat lines of trees in the orchard. She still felt a warm glow when she remembered some of her visits to the quieter corners last summer. The sensation of the grass tickling her naked skin while making love was still vivid in her memory.

That was the only thing that kept me going last year, she thought. Should I stick with the memories or hope for more?

“I’ve got to be firm,” she muttered to herself. “It’s only fair. And it’s sensible.”

Back in the old house, she walked the route the visitors were guided along, checking on the posters, displays, signs, barriers and state of cleanliness. And the warm glow she felt was gently boosted when she saw looked into some of the rooms and remembered giggles, excitement and feeling wanted. Pressed against the ancient wood panelling in one room, leaning over the bed in another, his hands on her hips, the feeling of being filled and fulfilled.

“I’ve got to push this away,” she muttered under her breath. “He won’t want me again. Not now.” But I want him to, a little voice said in her head.

She sat down in her office, a small room in the Victorian servant’s wing, booted up her laptop and looked at today’s long to-do list. Keeping a large stately home dating back to the sixteenth century open to the public almost every day of the year took a lot of managing, ten permanent and eight seasonal employees, and thirty or so volunteers.

Eleven permanent ones from today, she reminded herself. Then she felt a few butterflies in her tummy.

“Grow up,” she said under her breath. “It’s not going to happen. My luck doesn’t run like that.”

At ten o’clock, Julia was double-checking the latest spreadsheet of projected visitor numbers her senior managers wanted. She heard a knock on the door and almost jumped in surprise.

She took a deep breath. I can do this. “Come in,” she called out, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt.

He walked in, smiling a little nervously. His hair was neatly cut, a little shorter and he seemed to have lost a little weight.

Suits him, she thought. More butterflies in her tummy.

She stood up and held her hand out. “Martin, so good to see you again. And as our new Document Conservator, rather than on a student placement.”

He shook her hand and smiled at her warmly. His hand was warm and dry. She remembered how it felt when those hands had explored her body. How she'd felt. Alive, wanted, appreciated.

“Delighted to be back,” he said.

“Please, have a seat.”

She sat down and glanced at the sheets of paper on her desk. “Congratulations on your Masters in ancient document conservation. A special award for your dissertation, too. I’m absolutely delighted you’re back here. We really need your skills with the materials in our archives.”

“I used the work I did last summer on that medieval manorial roll for my dissertation. So I’m really excited to be back and in a position to do so much more.”

Stay professional and detached, she urged herself.

“A dissertation which persuaded the national management board to unanimously approve your appointment. You earned this opportunity and I’m really excited about you helping us find out what we have in our collection.”

Please don’t say anything else about last summer, she thought. She took a deep breath, swallowed, and dived in.

“Martin, last summer I was under a lot of emotional pressure. What happened between us, well, I think we should leave it in the past.”

There was a brief pause and she felt her face warm as she blushed. Oh shit, should I have said that? Do I even mean it? I’ve let my day-dream affect my judgement.

“I thought you might say that,” he said quietly. “But please don’t push me away, I won’t forget you or what we shared. It meant a lot to me.”

“But I was going through a painful divorce, I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you.”

He looked her directly in the eye and she felt her hope blossoming. “Julia, you didn’t. I was a mature student, remember, not some teenager. You’re not that much older than me.”

There was a knock at the door and her new assistant Josie carried in a tray of coffee and some biscuits.

Julia noticed Josie smile shyly at Martin. She fancies him, she realised. Why do I feel jealous?

Josie left, closing the door. Martin stood up and passed Julia a cup of coffe. She looked at him. Tall, handsome, fucking gorgeous, she thought.

She briefly struggled to remember where they were in the conversation. “You’re sure I didn’t?”

“Absolutely,” he said, keeping his eyes on hers. “I wanted you just as much as you did me. I had my pick of jobs with fascinating and beautiful documents. But I’m here for you as much as anything else.”

She stood up and walked to the window, looking out so he couldn’t see her face. So she couldn't see him. “I was going through a dreadful time last summer. I don’t know why I did it. Completely out of character.”

She heard him stand up. The butterflies in her tummy started an aerobatic display.

“Julia, I knew you were having a bad time,” he said quietly. “That’s why I didn’t keep in touch, just like you asked. Even though it hurt like hell. You needed time to get through it, I knew that.”

Does he really still want me?

Martin moved closer to her. “I kept my fingers crossed that we could find something special again. All I’m asking is for a chance to see.”

She swallowed. “Something special?”

He sound like he was almost within reach. “Maybe a future we can share?”

She turned around and reached out for him. His shirt soaked her tears as he stroked her hair. This is what I want, she thought. Him, my beautiful, gentle, amazing Martin. She lifted her face to his and they kissed.

They held each other closer and kissed deeply. She felt his erection swell and press against her tummy. Oh, his lovely cock again.

“I’ve only got a small flat,” she murmured into their kiss. “Far too small for two.”

“How about overnight stays?”

She smiled. “Maybe we can manage that.”

“I’ll look for a place that’s big enough, just in case,” he said. “I’m in a bed-and-breakfast at the moment.”

“We could have a few walks around the gardens after closing,” she murmured. “Like last summer.”

“Or use all the fancy bedrooms,” he whispered.

“We used them all last year.”

He grinned. “So? Use ’em again.”

She felt a wave of euphoria and made an impulsive decision. She walked over to her door and quietly locked it. Tucked away in a small pocket in her handbag was a condom, one left there from the previous summer. “On the basis that the future starts now, I think we should maybe make use of my desk.”

He grinned and raised an eyebrow. “It won’t be very comfortable.”

“We’ll be quick. It’s your first day at work, I’m only seeing you briefly as part of your induction.” She reached out and stroked his erection though his trousers. “I’ve not had anything since you left last summer. There’s no way I can wait until this evening now.”

Martin held her waist and lifted her onto the desk. She unfastened his trousers, then leaned back so he could pull her panties down.

“I’m so bloody wet, Martin. Get in me, for God’s sake. A quickie now, all night later.”

He rolled the condom onto his erect shaft, then stood between her spread thighs. “You’re the boss, Julia.”

She sighed happily as he slid into her. “And don’t you forget it, you big, sexy hunk. Now fuck me.”

Hosting a visit by British writer Terri Nixon

My guest today is the British writer Terri Nixon, who has published five books in different genres.

She's in the process of writing two quite different series, The Dust of Ancients, which is mythic fiction, the other, Oaklands Manor, is historical drama set in the early 20th century. She's also published a collection of horror stories, Nightrise. Covers, blurbs and links are further down this posting.

I "met" her through Facebook and read her book The Dust of Ancients, which I really enjoyed. I found it to be an intriguing, imaginative and fast-paced story with an entertaining cast of characters. And it's set not far from where I live, in the South-West of England. Yes, Terri and I are near-neighbours.

IS - Where did the original idea for the story and characters in the Lynher Mill Chronicles come from?

TN - Having grown up on Bodmin Moor (between the ages of 9 and 19) I've always felt a strong connection with the area. I used to go for long, long walks – often all day – and, when I realised I wanted to write, I knew that one day I would tap into that fascination. It took a while, but this series has been bubbling around since the early 2000s. It seemed obvious, and natural that the story should be a hybrid mix of traditional folklore and modern-day, and the characters just grew from that.

  

IS - What do you have in mind for your next writing project?

TN - When I’ve finished the third book in this series, and the third in my other, very different Oaklands Manor series, has been edited, I will be returning to an Edwardian ghost story set in Helston, 1910. The working title for this one is Penhaligon’s Attic and it’s already well under way.

IS - How do you develop you ideas for characters? Are parts of you incorporated into any of them?

TN - I don’t really sit and develop characters; if they don’t appear or evolve naturally I have to think twice about whether they’re important. If I decide they are, I’ll devote a bit of time to working on some dialogue to see whether they start coming through more clearly. Usually that does the trick! Likewise I don’t consciously write any of myself into them, but inevitably some of my own thoughts and views will make themselves heard. Such as my love for roast potatoes, rain, and rock music!

IS - Is there anything you remember which prompted you to start writing?

TN - Not any one particular thing, no. I have my very first writing book from infant school, in which there is a poem about how much I like rhubarb. Definitely a work of fiction! (bleugh!)

IS - Tell us about the genre you write in. Why does this particularly appeal and how did you get into it?

TN - This series is Mythic Fiction. However I didn’t know that until I’d finished book one and was trying to figure out how to pitch it; I’d simply written what I wanted to read. Then I hit a bit of a brick wall: it’s not fantasy, it’s not even urban fantasy … I was flummoxed, and then I found this definition on the Fantasy Faction blog: “Mythic Fiction includes contemporary works that rely heavily upon mythology, folklore, fairy tales, and the tradition of oral storytelling” Bingo! A label, at last!

IS - Do you write in other genres as well? Why? Do you write differently in these?

TN - I also write 20^th century historical drama/sagas. These grew out of a need to write something loosely based on my maternal grandmother’s life in service, although the finished books have no relation to the initial intent. (see my answer to your next question!) Naturally the voice in these is different, by necessity of the era, but also they tumbled out in the first person, which threw me! The three books are told by three different women, and the voice is slightly different in each because of their situation/background.

I also have a contemporary thriller currently with my agent, with the vague intention of self-publishing through the Amazon "White Glove" programme.

IS - Do your stories ever seen veer off in an unexpected direction? Have you ever had a character just “do their own thing?” Have you ever had an argument with one of your characters? Or anything else odd happen?

TN - Many, many times! One (major) character in Dust of Ancients hadn’t even been considered, I thought I knew exactly who the ‘baddie’ was, but then Richard just walked up to his car, and found someone leaning on it. I literally had no idea who he was. And another time, my female MC kicked something in the grass when she was walking away and I’d thought the scene was already over. Then I had to figure out what it was. No arguments, yet, but lots of instances of me growling at them and asking them what the hell they’re playing at!

IS - What’s your writer’s routine? Do you write whenever or at certain times? Where do you like to write? Are you a plotter or do you just write and see where it goes?

TN - I work full-time, and since I’m a morning-starter when I do write, the evenings aren’t much good for me creatively; I don’t get home until almost 6pm. So weekends and days off are a case of: plug in, sit down, and get on with it! I write at every opportunity, and I’ll use the evenings for social networking, and promo work.

I don’t like to shut myself away though, so I use the front room, and the laptop sits on a card table I can move around and out of the way easily.

As for the plotter/pantser question, I usually say: I’m a happy pantser with a twist of obsessive plotter. I will plot, and think, and consider all angles, but then when I have a direction to go in I make a start and see where it takes me. It’s fun!

IS - Can you give five things off your “bucket list”, whether ones you’ve done or want to do?

TN - Find an agent - done!

Get a book published - done!

Do a parachute jump - done!

Spend Christmas in New York

Retire to a little cottage on Bodmin Moor … with full wi-fi and unlimited Sky Box Office!

IS - Any individual male and female figure you particularly admire, dead or alive, and why?

TN - Lady Dorothie Feilding. Her letters home from the Western Front, where she spent time with the Monroe Corps, were life-changing. Such courage, and the fear hidden so well beneath her lively sense of humour and determination to help others.

IS - What’s your passion in life?

TN - Sorry to be boring, but … writing!  (aside from family, and particularly my two amazing sons, of course!)

IS - If you could pick a past life, what time period would appeal to you and why? Would you be male or female? Rich or poor?

TN - I think I’d like to visit the “roaring twenties.” And who’d want to be anything but a well-to-do female at a time like that? A real time of change and emancipation, just beginning; the possibilities would have been so exciting.

IS - What would you tell anyone who asked you for advice about writing a novel?

TN - Just sit down and do it. Don’t spend hours on-line learning about how to do it; all you’ll find will be people saying how hard it is, and telling you what you should NEVER do. Confidence-killers. And don’t get hung up on whether it sounds right, or the grammar is “correct”; that will come later, if it matters. Don’t sweat over chapter length, point of view, story arc or character development, just get the story down. And when you’ve done it, accept that you’ve done something wonderful, even if it’s pants. Pants can be fixed.

IS - Thanks so much for dropping by and chatting, Terri. Good luck with all your books.

The Dust of Ancients.

When folklore and the modern world collide, who’s to say which one is the myth?

Lynher Mill: a quiet Cornish village, site of both atrocities and heroism in day gone by. Today’s inhabitants raise monuments and visitor-centres in awed memory of those far-off days, grateful they live in an era of peace and plenty.

But the granite-strewn moorland is bristling with secrets and treachery; below ground, beautiful, ancient beings plot against one another to fulfil a curse delivered by their dying king. And so, while mortals walk the land and dream of long-ago battles, the Moorlanders arm themselves with fierce courage and hardened hearts, for the real fight is about to begin.

The Dust of Ancients - Book One in the Lynher Mill Chronicles.

A curse uttered in the extremity of terror and death can reverberate for centuries. When the means to bring that curse to fruition are suddenly within reach, the innocents must look to their past to protect their future ... and their past wants no part of it.  

  Richard Lucas has been plagued by vivid and disturbing dreams since the death of his wife eleven years ago, and, desperate to get his life back on track, he is persuaded by his best friend Dean to take a sabbatical. But when he arrives in Dean’s home village of Lynher Mill he discovers that, not only is Dean not who he seems, but that he himself is bound more tightly to the Cornish moorlands than he could have imagined. And far more deeply than he would ever want to be.
  As the events that began to shape his life over three thousand years ago continue their steady, unstoppable march towards a terrifying conclusion, Richard discovers the truth about his connection to the moor, and eventually has to do battle with his own history just to survive. Those who love him struggle with conflicting loyalties and come to realise that, if the land itself is to endure, they must make some devastating decisions.

Universal Amazon Link: http://bookgoodies.com/a/B00HU05I7S

The Lightning and the Blade - Book Two in the Lynher Mill Chronicles.

Manipulating the greatest of nature’s forces is a deadly game for the unwary and the unskilled. Manipulating the hearts and minds of ancient and powerful enemies can prove deadlier still, and the effects echo across a land that is poised for battle, and just waiting for a reason.
  Trouble is stirring along a Cornish coastline notorious for both shipwrecks and smuggling. With elementals playing their wicked weather-games, and a mortal woman rapidly sliding into self-destruction, supply meets demand and the stakes are raised to terrifying and tragic heights. 
  Meanwhile, an uneasy peace has settled over the village of Lynher Mill, and a royal marriage promises to unite the moorland elementals and their old enemies on the coast. But the bride’s brother has his own reasons for sabotaging the union; his dark and secret work depends upon it. He digs deep enough to uncover long-buried hatreds and ensures those ugly truths come to light, and before long the two races embark on a collision course that threatens to destroy them both, and the mortals who stray into their path.

Universal Amazon Link:http://bookgoodies.com/a/B00KVNI7BK

Book three in the series, The Unquiet Kingdom, is scheduled for release in June 2015.

Maid of Oaklands Manor - Book One in the Oaklands Manor Trilogy

  It's 1912. And a chance meeting between scullery maid Lizzy Parker and heiress Evie Creswell leads to more than an enduring friendship and a new job for Lizzy... It draws her into a world of privilege and intrigue and delivers her into the loving arms of a killer. 

  Meeting the handsome but mysterious Jack Carlisle, Lizzie begins to fall for him despite rumours he had been involved in the death of Evie's father. And as she becomes further embroiled in the dangerous life Carlisle lives, she must decide if he can be trusted with the life of a close friend, and, ultimately, if he is worth the risk to her own.

Universal Amazon Link: http://bookgoodies.com/a/B00CSTCLPS

A Rose in Flanders Field - Book Two in the Oaklands Manor Trilogy.

  It's 1917. Driving an ambulance through the mud in Flanders, aristocrat Evie Creswell is a long way from home. At Oaklands Manor all she had been expected to do was to look pretty and make a good marriage. But with the arrival of World War One everything changed…

  And Evie, to the horror of her family, does not choose a husband from her blue-blooded set; instead she weds artist Will Davies, who works as a butcher’s apprentice. Soon she is struggling nightly to transport the wounded to hospital, avoiding the shells and gas attacks – her privileged home life, and her family’s disappointment at her marriage, a lifetime away.

  And while Evie drives an ambulance in Belgium, Will is in the trenches in France. He withdraws from her, the trauma of his experience taking hold. Evie has the courage to deal with her war work, but it breaks her heart to think she is losing Will’s love. Can their marriage survive this terrible war? That is, if they both get out alive… 

Universal Amazon Link: http://bookgoodies.com/a/B00KQOI5AW

Book three in the Oaklands Manor trilogy, Daughter of Dark River Farm, will be published by Carina at a date to be announced.

A collection of short horror stories by T Nixon.

That thing you thought you saw from the corner of your eye; the capering shadow that drew your attention while your mind screamed at you to turn away … it’s here. It’s waiting for you, and it’s very, very patient.

So sit tight for a while. Prepare yourself for the unknowable, and learn, through these few short stories, the truth about "it can’t happen to me ..."

Warning: several of these stories contain graphic horror descriptions.

Universal Amazon Link:

http://bookgoodies.com/a/B00G7SVIQY

Delighted to have Janine Ashbless as guest today

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Hosting Lily Harlem, author of "Breathe You In" and "Confessions of A Naughty Night Nurse"

Today's blog hosts a virtual visit by Lily Harlem, author of "Confessions of a Naughty Night Nurse" and "Breathe You In", a well-received erotic romance with a medical twist.

LH: Thank you so much for inviting me visit today, Ian, it’s so very kind of you. 

IS: My pleasure. The combination of "confessions" and "nurse" in a title... Am I right to think you've some experience of working in the healthcare system prior to becoming a writer?

LH: I trained as a nurse when I was 18 and then worked in London for many years. I’ve always had a nurse story bubbling away at the back of my mind. I’ve been thinking lately about how my previous career as a nurse influences my writing. I guess that’s because in my work in progress my protagonist is a nurse (a prison nurse to be precise) and I find myself visualizing her routine and what she’s doing on a minute-to-minute basis when at work. By that I mean caring for the patients of course but also the technical bits – drug administration, observing vital signs, preparing for theatre, talking with relatives etc.

IS: Personally, I enjoy stories where the background detail is there, it makes it easier to be carried away. What prompted you to write a story about a nurse?

LH: A few years ago Mischief at HarperCollins approached me to write for their Confessions Series, naturally I decided to go for a nurse but not just any old nurse, a naughty night nurse. I love this cover, it’s so girly, but it’s the jaunty jut of her hip and the way her uniform is just a little bit too tight that really makes me smile.

IS: What do you particularly remember about your time in nursing?

LH: The hours were long and hard, the work certainly stressful, but it was also incredibly rewarding. Helping patients was part of the job and I thrived on the adrenaline-inducing department I specialized in – Accident and Emergency (Trauma). This was my home, be it during the day or on the night shift. One of the things I adored most was the sense of teamwork between doctors, nurses, the porters, lab staff, radiographers and domestic workers (cleaners and kitchen staff). If everyone didn’t get on together, communicate, work hard, then the place just couldn’t run. It was very rare to find a lazy staff member; that type of personality just didn’t survive! It was a case of working hard, then a bit harder, then if you had time, go play too. Mmm, yep, we played pretty hard if I remember correctly!

IS: I worked in a hospital early in my career too, so I remember that team spirit. But it wasn't all work for me. I guess your hospital had a social club, for instance?

LH: Oh yes, an ancient building with a tin roof and drink so cheap it must have been subsidized by someone – I don’t know who. It was generally full, mostly people in a uniform of some description, or if not in uniform they still had tired faces and were most likely just out of scrubs after being in theatre all day. Mr Harlem and I had many a date at the ‘social’, in fact, I think we probably had our first date there!

IS: Other than your husband, do you still remember other friends from then?

LH: During my nursing years I made many friends, most of them are memories now but a few have stood the test of time and without them still in my life there would be a great big hole. It does that to you, working in such an intense environment, you see people for who they are, beneath the layers. Those girlfriends have made up for me not having a sister and we’ve continued to rise and fall together on the crazy crests of life. I adore them.

IS: Can I be a little cheeky and wonder how true-to-life Confessions of a Naughty Night Nurse is?

LH: Now don’t think this book is a memoir, it isn’t (OMG, if it was…!) but certainly the main character reminds me of someone I used to know, as do the two main doctors, Javier and Carl, though, of course, their personalities have been embellished considerably.  Some situations in the book are also reflections, and the descriptions of the hospital wards, corridors and Rose Cottage – that’s the fluffy name given to the morgue – are all exactly how I remember them.

IS: I know there are a lot of current and former nurses around, many of whom are likely to come across your book. How do you hope they'd react to it?

LH: I had an early review for Confessions of a Naughty Night Nurse which, much to my delight, was written by a nurse…

(Confessions of a Naughty Night Nurse) centers around Sharon, a night shift nurse in a hospital somewhere in England. If she lived in the U.S., she’d be called a float pool nurse because she can work almost anywhere in the hospital. You follow her sexscapades over the course of a few days/weeks and see how much trouble she gets into as well as how many people get between her legs. She’s naughty, remember?

This book had the potential for utter ridiculousness. As a nurse, I take my profession pretty seriously and I didn’t know if this book would make nurses look like trollops. It didn’t though. It felt real! The author’s grasp of medical lingo as well as the possible happenings in a hospital all felt right. I swear she mentioned Maslow and I guffawed. It appealed to the nurse and the instructor in me. The sex was good, but not overdone and I enjoyed the characters.

And my gosh, the book actually had a plot and a decent one at that. Plus, I was rooting for her to end up with the sexy doctor. Well done, Lily Harlem. You definitely won me over.

IS: Wow! You must have been really tickled by that review.

LH: I don’t mind saying that I was pretty nervous when the reviewer reached the point were she said the words ‘utter ridiculousness’ and then stated that she was a nurse, but phew, thank goodness she went on to say it ‘felt’ real. That is exactly what I was trying to achieve, an amalgamation of two big parts of my life, my erotic romance writing and my nursing days – this lovely reviewer made me happy dance. Oh, and if you’re wondering what Maslow is, it’s a psychology model used for assessing needs, starting from the very basic, moving up through the need to achieve, be encouraged etc and finally reaching self-actualisation.

IS: I'm going to have to read it now, it sounds like a lot of fun.

LH: If you do, I hope you enjoy Sharon’s naughty escapades. 

IS: Lily, thanks for agreeing to "pop in", I've enjoyed it. While you're here, perhaps you can share the blurb and an excerpt from Confessions of a Naughty Night Nurse?

LH: Of course! 

About Confessions of a Naughty Night Nurse ...

When scalpels are set down, the ward lights turned off and the patients asleep, there is always time for mischief …

I guess you could call me a jack-of-all-trades nurse. I find work satisfaction in whichever department the hospital needs me most, as long as it’s through the darkest hours. Needless to say I’ve seen it all over the years, been there and done that, what’s left to shock me isn’t worth knowing. But it’s so often the quieter nighttime where the real high jinx abound.

Yes, the nocturnal life is the one for me. With a weakness for sexy guys wearing white coats and dangling stethoscopes, my fantasies are often realised and I’m adept at finding relief from the hospital grind in shadowy corners and cozy linen cupboards.

Of course my dedication to patient comfort is paramount. What kind of nurse would I be if it wasn’t? But when one act of extreme, albeit highly inappropriate, kindness forced me to become the hospital director’s snitch, the length I went to in order to keep my job, satisfied my desires and found me the love that had always evaded me. A love that made me push even my not-so-professional boundaries to the extreme.

Excerpt

I checked my iPhone again. Another message from Tom.

You coming?

I typed back quickly.

Yes, so will you soon!

The porter appeared. He was new, a young guy, wide and stocky with hair so short you could see his scalp through it. He had the word love tattooed over the knuckles on his right hand.

‘You got one for Rose Cottage,’ he grunted, tugging the closed, coffin-style trolley along behind him.

‘Yes, sideward six.’

Luckily Mr Parslow’s skinny body was light, and within a few minutes we were heading out of the ward with him safely ensconced in the metal trolley.

‘Hey, Sharon,’ Tinkard called. ‘You may as well go for your break after you’ve done that, it’s just gone midnight.’

‘Right you are.’

The ward door shut with a heavy click and I put some muscle into pushing the trolley along the deserted corridor. As the pace picked up I stared at the lumpy back of the porter’s head and wondered if he was the one who’d found Javier and Iceberg.

If only I could see into his mind.

I pondered on whether I should question him. Just come straight out and ask if he’d seen the hottest medical senior house officer since Pompeii’s hospital had got showered in ash, shagging the Wicked Witch of the West where the sun doesn’t shine.

I thought better of it. My asking alone could become gossip, and I was keen to avoid gossip that included myself. There were too many skeletons in my cupboard, and, for that matter, in clinical rooms, sluices, linen rooms, and in that handy, unused office at the back of the pharmacy. No, I would keep quiet and do my own investigating.

Stepping out into the night, I was whipped in the face by my hair, the band holding it in a low ponytail no match for the ferocity of the gale. I hunched my shoulders and stooped, trying to shelter my face from the needle-points of rain blasting my cheeks. The sound of the torrent of drips hitting the metal trolley was almost as loud as the wind creaking at the row of oaks leading to Rose Cottage. Their boughs strained and moaned, their leaves hissing in great waves of noise.

The porter sped up behind the back of the canteen and put considerable energy into pulling. By the time we went past the incinerator and turned the final corner, I found myself jogging along the uneven path.

Luckily Tom was waiting with the door to Rose Cottage held open. We rushed in, the trolley banging over the door-bar and a scurry of leaves whirling around our feet.

‘Fucking hell,’ the porter said. ‘It’s cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey out there.’

Tom shut the door, winked at me, then took hold of my end of the trolley and wheeled it into the bay of body drawers. I trailed along behind, tucking my wind-wild hair back into its ponytail.

‘Yeah, good job the VIPs in here don’t care about shitty weather,’ Tom said, stopping at twenty-six C and then opening the trolley’s lid to reveal Mr Parslow’s covered body.

‘Bloody hate this part of the job, me,’ the porter said, staring at the shroud-covered lump and shuddering. ‘Don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.’

‘You go if you want,’ I said, ‘I’ll help here.’

He widened his eyes and took a step backwards. ‘Really?’

‘Sure, I’ve done it a million times. Doesn’t bother me.’

‘Bloody hell, thanks . . .’ He nibbled on his bottom lip and scanned my coat, as though searching for my name badge.

‘Sharon,’ I said. ‘Go, we’ve got this covered and I bet you’ve lots to do.’

‘Yeah, I have actually.’ He yanked his sleeves over his hands and strode back to the door.

Tom followed and I heard him lock it shut, as was standard procedure at Rose Cottage. The NHS couldn’t risk body snatching, that’s why Tom was employed as night security here.

‘Poor sod,’ Tom said, wandering back in. ‘Looked white as a sheet, didn’t he?’

‘They all do to start with.’

Tom pulled open the drawer and together we slid Mr Parslow onto the metal; his body, although light, was a dense weight. Tom then pushed the drawer shut and closed the door with a resounding slam.

He wrote Mr Parslow’s name on a piece of card and slipped it into a slot beneath.

‘So how long have you got?’ he asked, a naughty smile tugging his lips and his smoky-blue eyes twinkling.

I raised my eyebrows. ‘No time at all. Change of plan, I have to get straight back, sorry.’

‘Ah, Sharon,’ he said, frowning. ‘Why do you go and tease me like that? You know how much I look forward to your visits. They’re the only thing that keeps me going in this lifeless place.’

‘Sorry.’ I glanced down his body. Through his uniform – dark-navy trousers and shirt – Tom’s well-defined muscles could be made out, as could a fantastically long wedge of flesh behind his fly.

My pussy clenched as I remembered last week when I’d paid him a visit. He’d bent me over the desk and rammed himself into me for nearly an hour. It had been so damn hard to walk back onto the orthopaedic ward I’d actually considered nicking a pair of crutches.

I hitched in a breath, knowing I wouldn’t be able to keep up my pretence for more than another few seconds. Tom’s big dick and his skilful use of it was too damn irresistible. ‘The ward is crazy busy.’

He reached for me but I stepped away. ‘Just a kiss and a quick grope then, to keep me going.’

Quickly I moved even further away, towards the autopsy room. ‘Ha, ha,’ I said gleefully. ‘Just kidding, I’m on my break now.’

He flattened his lips into a tight line, as if holding back a broad smile, though at the same time narrowing his eyes as though furious with me. ‘You little minx,’ he said. ‘You’ll pay for that.’

‘Only if you can catch me.’ I darted into the autopsy room, dark except for a couple of low lights over a set of huge scales. The air was cool and laced with disinfectant.

I glanced around. There was a big, steel surgical table in the centre, a row of cupboards, several filing cabinets and a desk holding an ancient computer monitor.

‘Sharon,’ Tom called, the door shutting behind him with a soft whoosh. ‘You can’t escape.’

‘No, please, no,’ I said with a giggle and ran towards the far side of the room.

He chased but I dodged at the last minute, went to run for the door. He cut me off and I swivelled, found myself barging into the bolted-down table in the middle.

I gasped as the air flew from my lungs, but recovered quickly and, with my hands flat on the cool surface, scooted to the end.

Tom was facing me now, his face strewn with shadows, but I could see the thrill of the chase had flushed his cheeks and caused him to pant.

‘Come here,’ he said, edging closer.

‘No.’ I moved away from him in a circle around the table.

But it was futile; he was tall, fast and strong. Suddenly I was grabbed and tugged to the end, my body pulled up against his.

He pressed his lips down hard on mine and instantly the game was over. Now it was all about carnal satisfaction. With Tom, I was always guaranteed a spectacular orgasm and I couldn’t wait to start riding towards it.

‘Ah, yeah, baby, I’ve got you,’ he said, shoving my coat off and flicking it out of the way. ‘You gonna take it good again? Like you did last week?’

‘Yes,’ I panted, tearing at the buttons on his shirt. ‘Yes, that was so hot, I could hardly bloody walk the next day.’

He chuckled, low, deep and sexy, then kissed me again, the stubble on his chin scraping my skin and his breaths blowing hot and hard on my cheek.

He had my uniform up around my waist now and was forcing me to lie back on the ice-cold table. He stepped between my legs and leaned over me, pressing his groin into the gusset of my knickers.

‘Really, on here?’ I said, slotting my fingers into his hair and drawing my knees up so they pressed either side of his hips. ‘Where they chop up dead people? Isn’t that a bit freaky?’

‘The French for orgasm is petite mort so it’s kind of fitting.’ He was fiddling with the elastic of my underwear, at the juncture of my thighs.

‘Yeah, I suppose, but, oh –’ My words were cut off and turned into a delighted moan. He’d plunged two fingers high up inside me and found my clit with his thumb.

‘Oh, you’re such a dirty nurse,’ he murmured, kissing and licking over my cheek.

Lily Harlem Bio

Lily Harlem lives in the UK and is an award-winning, best-selling author of contemporary erotic romance. She writes for publishers on both sides of the Atlantic including HarperCollins, Totally Bound, Xcite, Ellora’s Cave and Sweetmeats Press. Her Hot Ice series regularly receives high praise and industry nominations.

  

Her novel, Breathe You In, a super-sexy romance with a twist that will not only heat you up but stay with you for years to come, was named a USA Today Reviewer’s Recommended Read of 2013.

Before turning her hand to writing Lily Harlem worked as a trauma nurse and her latest HarperCollins release, Confessions of a Naughty Night Nurse, draws on her many experiences while nursing in London. 

Lily also self-publishes and The Glass Knot and Scored have been blessed with many 5* reviews since their release in 2012.

Lily also co-authors with Natalie Dae and publishes under the name Harlem Dae - check out the Sexy as Hell Box Set available exclusively on Amazon - The Novice, The Player and The Vixen - and That Filthy Book which has been hailed as a novel 'every woman should read'.

Lily Harlem Links

Website http://www.lilyharlem.com/

Blog http://www.lilyharlem.blogspot.com/

Twitter https://twitter.com/lily_harlem

Facebook https://www.facebook.com/lily.harlem

Facebook author page https://www.facebook.com/LilyHarlemAuthor

Pinterest http://pinterest.com/lilyharlem/

Raw Talent http://rawtalentseries.co.uk

BritBabes http://thebritbabes.blogspot.co.uk

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Newsletter Subscription http://www.lilyharlem.com/newsletter-subscription.html

Hot Ice https://www.facebook.com/hoticeseries

Google+ https://plus.google.com/u/0/106837751333678531161/posts

Harlem Dae http://www.harlemdae.com

Goodreads http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4070110.Lily_Harlem

Revision, revision...

I thought I'd finished with revision when I did my last university exam, but that was before I discovered the delights of being an aspiring author!

At this precise moment, I'm about 35% of the way through my first-pass revision of the draft of my first ever novel, provisional title "Walking Out". I spent months working away at it, posting one chapter a week to my on-line critiquing group. Like almost all other authors, I've got a day job and a life, and writing has to fit in as best it can. So, 26 chapters took me 26 weeks to post...

A few members of my crit group delighted me by offering honest comments on almost every chapter, which I really genuinely appreciate. Several others offered encouragement, which was every bit as valuable and appreciated.

So, I'd got to the end and felt... happy... unhappy with a few scenes... and mentally exhausted!

One of my on-line chums, Spencer Dryden, suggested I leave the piece for at least month before looking at it. He's been published, a rather delightful and imaginative novella called "Bliss" which I heartily recommend (available from amazon.co.uk and amazon.com).

Until I started revision, I'd been rather dreading this step. Minor anxieties, you know, like would I still like my characters and story?

So, last week, I opened the file again and started with chapter 1.

And I'm finding revision's great fun. 

It's an opportunity to correct the typos which slipped through, tidy up the narrative and dialogue, check chronological consistency, add a few new ideas and address a few of the things I remember members of my crit group commented on. I saved all their comments and will review these in detail as part of my second-pass review.

Then I'll be asking the brave souls who've volunteered to read it as a whole if they still want to!

So it won't be long before my imagination will be demanding I get started on some of my other ideas. I've got fairly-well developed ideas for three more novel-length pieces and some to develop for another. And then there's this idea rattling around the old cranium about compiling an anthology of my better short stories and flash fiction.

The most important thing I learned was to plan ahead. Somehow, I managed to write a fairly self-consistent novel of 125,000 words, combining an erotic romance and a supernatural thriller, without an overall plan.

It's set in the modern-day, in and around the city of Plymouth in south-west England. The idea developed from characters I created and developed in some flash fiction pieces and a couple of short stories. I had a few key "scenes" and characters in mind, then let my imagination run with it. It worked, but I'm not trying it that way again.

So, the plan to take it further. I made a list...
(1) Revise, revise, revise
(2) Ask beta-readers for comments
(3) Revise, revise, revise
(4) Try and interest a publisher
(5) If no interest, sort out a cover illustration and self-publish.

Okay, yes, that makes it sound really quite simple. But I keep on asking myself, would it be fun if it was easy?

Featuring the "Undone" blog tour by Kristina Lloyd

Today, I'm delighted to host Kristina Lloyd as part of a blog tour to promote her new novel "Undone", which was published earlier this month. I joined in her launch "cocktail party" event on 28th August 2014, where a number of people collaborated by posting themed short stories on our blogs.

I've read the book myself. It’s an erotic story with a thriller sub-plot, which I really enjoyed. I'm not usually a fan of BDSM stories, but this kept me turning the pages to see what happened next. In fact, I read it over two evenings. It's a first-person account told in a diary, which allows Kristina to mix conventional story-telling with a little more introspection and inner dialogue. 

I was impressed by her character Lana's account of a newly-developing sub-dom relationship with Sol. It wasn't just by her intense and exciting sexual experiences but also the emotional side of it, learning to trust and coping with her all-too-plausible anxieties and insecurities. I was pleased to see Sol make a momentary misjudgement and have to regain her confidence in him. Too many dom characters seem to be just a little too perfect, so this made him seem true-to-life for me. The thriller side of the story isn't the main driver, but it provides a few key stressful points around which their relationship evolves.

I asked Kristina about the book and her writing, and a cheeky little personal one as well.

Where did the original idea for the story and characters came from?

The idea was sparked in a writers’ workshop when a fellow attendee told me her idea for a murder-mystery novel which began with a dead body at a party. I basically stole her idea. Undone isn’t quite a murder-mystery but the story starts with a MFM threesome at weekend party in the country. On the next morning, one of the guys is found dead in the swimming pool.

The characters grew from snippets of other people. Lana was inspired by a stranger on Facebook. And Sawyer from the TV series Lost made me want to write a male character who was cheeky, cocky, sexy and cool, and Sol was born from that hankering.

Tell us about the genre you write in, why do you love it and how did you get into it?

I’ve been writing erotica, on and off, for almost twenty years. I started with short stories after heeding advice to write genre fiction if you wanted to be published. I was lucky enough to be published fairly quickly and I moved from shorts to novels after a couple of years. I’m fascinated by the hidden side of people; by sex as an activity very dislocated from the everyday, and from the public self; and by the crazy things we do in pursuit of desire. I invariably write about female sexual submission because that’s what I kink for. The complexities of powerplay excite both my imagination and my mind. I’m thinking here of the various apparent paradoxes embedded in D/S: the submissive loving what they loathe; the cruel dom caring about the sub’s pleasure; equality underpinning a roleplay scene of inequality.

I think I’m driven to write about this stuff because I want to capture and convey what is fundamentally hot about D/S. I’m not particularly interested in focusing on formalised BDSM scenes; I prefer a rougher, scarier edge. In real life, BDSM practitioners negotiate scenes, use safewords, engage in roleplay,  and so on. Replicating that in fiction seems to me an enormous waste of the imagination. Unfortunately, social anxiety surrounding sex means erotic writing is held  to different standards than other types of writing. As writers we’re always bumping up against the imposition of constraints, from the overt, such as Amazon introducing measures to regulate the sale of erotica, to the less obvious social constraints. Increasingly, I feel, writers are expected to portray responsible behavior in erotica to ensure readers don’t replicate anything stupid and potentially harmful. Health and Safety officers are in the text! But erotic fiction shouldn’t function as a manual. It should be a vehicle to fire and champion the erotic imagination. Too much of that, however, would be socially disruptive. Sex is dangerous.

What do you have in mind for your next writing project?

Nothing yet! The current erotica scene has left me feeling a touch despondent, if I’m honest. I’m hoping to self-publish some short stories soon, and I do have a couple of barely-formed ideas for novels and novellas bubbling in the background. I’m just not sure if or how I want to develop them right now.

Have you ever had a character just “do their own thing?” Have you ever had an argument with one of your characters? Or anything else odd happen?

Nope! I find that notion far too whacky. I’ve written characters who’ve turned out to be more interesting/funnier/nastier than I anticipated but, you know, I made them that way. I’m the author. I create the characters. The ideas come from my brain.

What’s your writer’s routine? Do you write whenever or at certain times? Are you a pantser or plotter? Where do you like to write?

I have no routine.  My life isn’t orderly enough to allow for such a thing! I squeeze writing in here and there: early mornings, evenings, weekends. Being a novelist hasn’t allowed me to give up the day job, unfortunately. Some of my most productive writing sessions happen early in the day, between 5am and 8am, when the world is still and calm, and my mind is woolly and loose. But I don’t get up that early too often. I plot but not to the nth degree. I usually know how a book will end but the journey to that point may deviate from my original sketch. And I’m pretty much always at my desk when I write. I like to sit up straight!

If someone said, ‘You can go anywhere in the world, but you have to go right now?’, where would you go? What pulls you there?

I’d go to one of those sandy beaches in New Zealand where penguins waddle ashore. What pulls me? Space, tranquility, solitude – and penguins!


KristinaLloyd 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.

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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?

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