“The Eyes of Sin”
by S.D. Grady
is awarded the CTRR!
I am so psyched! This is the second CTRR S.D. Grady has
earned this year!
Read the review:
http://coffeetimeromance.com/CoffeeThoughts/?p=670
The print volume releases in December
7 Days of Gremlins!
Join the Authors of Gremlins: An Anthology on
Halloween for a chat from 1-5 at
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/lydDarkAngels/
There will be tricks, treats and general mayhem! I
suspect we’ll have a great time.
The next of the seven tales in this Anthology comes from
Dahlia Rose: Night and Day
Larkin Day thought she was a hardened cop until she found out what lurked in
the night.
When Larkin watched her partner die it was one of the worst nights of her life.
They said it was an addict strung out on drugs, but they were all wrong. No
addict did things like that to a human body. It was no addict that attacked her
on that roof. When Keaton Knight broke into her apartment, he confirmed
everything she saw. Gremlins. It was unbelievable; it was something out of the
movies. Now she’s in a fight to save New York City from things that should not
even exist. Alongside a man who makes her body sizzle with every touch on her
skin, Larkin knows she and Keaton are like night and day. Can they come out of
the darkness together after the horror they must face?
Gremlins: An Anthology in print is available now at
loveyoudivine.com and at
Amazon
Watch the Gremlins book trailer at my website!
http://sonyadgrady.com
He flew across the night, a shadow of death and mist enveloping the land he passed over. The hunger drove him on, searching for the one who would feed his soul.
***
Marlene’s black leather button-up boots crunched the dry leaves. She scurried from the connecting parking garage, down the concrete steps and paused just before the door. She smoothed over the little black dress one last time, her hand lingering on the ruby necklace shimmering in the dark night.
Halloween. Tonight, she required no costume, unlike the rest of the year. Her pale skin, elongated incisors and blood red eyes would pass as just one more vampire tonight.
The urgent beat of Club Divine drifted out into the street. Shivers of erotic anticipation swept over her. She could find perhaps more than one meal tonight. Perhaps she could entice a few morsels back to her lair for storage.
She swept into the club, letting the spotlight on the entrance illuminate her hunger. She felt her breasts swell and her tongue flickered, scenting the mass of bodies dancing on the floor. Eager, and needy, she joined them and took up the beat.
She suppressed the laugh—the humans’ thoughts transparent to her. They, too, hungered. But for her breasts, her hot tongue, and searing pussy. She would share. An exchange, if you would.
She grabbed the boy’s ass. Obviously in college, the blond-haired Zeus, wore too tight jeans, and a shirt that hugged all his muscles. Marlene sucked in an errant drop of saliva. Perhaps, she had waited too long to feed. The image of her toy splayed before her: naked, frightened and erect, tightened her desire and hunger. He met her gaze, stepping back in horror at her eyes.
“Don’t worry, my little darling, we’re going to have a good time tonight.” Her fingernails grazed his arm, scored his chest and dipped into his waistband. His shiver called to her. He would come so easy. She would wait to seek a challenge for later tonight.
Grabbing his balls, she turned towards the back of the club, looking for an available room. The hunger stabbed at her, now. Urgency filled her. Her mind fogged out the other revelers, the music beat replaced by Zeus’ pulse. Her pulse. Her hot, wet, red, tangy dinner.
Once she closed the door, she ordered him to strip. She reached out and snared his thoughts. With ease, she calmed his heart and his breathing. Leaning over his lithe limbs and glassy stare, she licked his cheek.
His hands reached for her full breasts.
She slapped them away. “Did I give you permission, my pet?”
She scored his chest again. This time, a little deeper. Small droplets of blood dotted his muscular frame. The pain froze him in place. She tasted…just a drop. The euphoria began to steel over her. Reaching down, she found him hard and pleasantly large. Pushing him back into a leather chair, she mounted him.
She could no longer maintain a steady pace for his breathing. His despair and desire overrode her skills. With her pussy wrapped around his pulsing cock, she yanked his hair back and exposed his neck. She could almost feel the burning liquid of life coursing down her throat…
“My dear, I found you at last.”
Only one soul on the planet had ever been able to cut through the haze of Marlene’s feeding frenzy. She glanced over her shoulder at the open door. “My lord.”
His command filled the room, blocking out all light, leaving only his pulse…his need…his hunger.
Marlene lost her control over her meal. The weak creature began to mew and fold up, trying to escape.
“Let him go, my dear. I have need of you.”
She felt it. The ancient hold on her. The only one who could. The only one who wanted her.
In a daze, she stood, releasing her little Zeus. Without thought, she stripped off her little black dress, letting the crepe-like fabric flutter to the floor in a puddle. “I must feed, my lord. I waited too long.”
If he wore any clothing, she knew it was only a vision. He slowly turned her away from him, forcing her to bend over the chair. “We will dine, tonight, my dear. Sup on each other as only gods can. And then, finally, together, we will be free.”
“Free?”
His cock plundered her, fracturing her, burning her. Her heart imploded, her lungs frozen. Sharp teeth cut into her neck. And then he began to suck.
The blackness came. And so did the light. Her immediate release shook her. He held her up, against him, where she could feel his fire scraping against her softer hide.
When he ceased to feed, she turned in his arms. “Why did you take so long to find me, my lord?” She bit down, his nectar ensuring her soul would hunger no more.
“Sometimes, my dear, even a dark lord can be imprisoned. But I have won my battle, and now, with you by my side, nothing shall stand in our way.”
They sank to the floor, their power growing in each other with each touch.
The black cloud escaped beneath the door, snaked its way across the dance floor, heedless of the stomping feet and happy partiers. At long last, it gained the night and fled.
Who knows where he has gone and where he shall strike next?
***
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This chapter brought to you by: S.D. Grady http://sonyadgrady.com
“The Eyes of Sin” Available now in ebook and soon in paperback!
“Gremlins”
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and others!
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Becky stepped down into the glittering ballroom. She tossed the knot of curls tied with silk maroon ribbons, luxuriating in the sensation of her soft locks caressing her bare neck. For a moment, she closed her eyes and listened to the odd sounds.
A string orchestra played some ancient music, Mozart she supposed. There was a low murmur of laughter and chatter. Heels scuffed across the parquet floor. If she listened hard enough, she convinced herself she could hear the flames flickering in the many candle sconces and glittering chandelier hanging overhead.
This was a dream. How Lady Velvet had managed to transform Club Divine from a nightclub full of leather, neon and chrome into this anachronistic scene, Becky didn’t care to figure out. The fact was, tonight was hers. All hers.
She even felt beautiful! The gown of dark maroon silk hugged her breasts and narrow waist. Becky took a deep breath, testing out the limits of the whalebone corset forcing her cleavage up and reminding her to stand straight. The shots of gold thread woven throughout the hooped gown glittered under the flickering lights.
Never had Becky thought that getting dressed could focus a person so keenly on the anticipated outcome of the night. She counted up the stockings, garters, chemise, pantaloons, hoops, petticoat, corset, sinfully gorgeous gown, expensive diamond necklace, bracelet, earrings, white elbow-length gloves…
She took another step into the crowded room, flicked open the painted fan and allowed the assembled male guests to look their fill. Which one would it be? A tall, dark, man with graying temples edged a bit too close before bowing and begging her pardon.
Her heart began to hammer against her ribs, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Too soon, the familiar black dots began to crowd out her vision. It was happening again. He had said two words. “I’m sorry,” and turned away. That was all. And it still reduced her to a quivering bag of bones.
Staggering to the edge of the floor, Becky sank onto a velvet covered bench, gripping onto its corners. She studied the pattern of the floor and allowed the music to draw her back from the brink of panic.
“Remember what I told you, Miss Rebecca?”
Becky turned to face the confident Lady Velvet. The master seductress had embraced the opportunity to join in on the costume ball. The gown of black silk left nearly nothing to the imagination. Her full breasts almost spilled out the top of her gown, the décolletage plunging in a deep V. She studied the red lips, rouged cheeks and eyes that knew too much. She turned away to hide the deepening blush. “I guess it doesn’t matter if the man is dressed in jeans and t-shirt or a pair of breeches and heels. I can’t stop it.”
The younger woman leaned in, her hot breath scorching Becky’s ear. “Can you not believe that you are desirable, Miss Rebecca? Even in a fairy tale? I never disappoint my clients, my dear. And I’ve selected a rather fabulous gentleman for you. He wouldn’t dare mistreat any of my special guests.”
Becky swallowed, opening and closing the fan. “I know. But what if I disappoint him?”
Velvet placed a black gloved finger, adorned with a huge diamond ring, over her lips. “Shhh…hush.”
Becky drew back from the hand skimming her cheek.
“I can promise you, Miss Rebecca, that your charms would never disappoint a healthy, eager male. Trust me?”
She thought back over the shattered marriage, endless sessions with a shrink, sex therapist, and the drugs prescribed for the panic attacks. Thirty-five years of sheer terror and now she sat in a club that no member of her church even acknowledged existed in the hopes of finally feeling…just once… “I just want a kiss.”
“I know, honey. Tonight…look at me.”
Biting her lips, Becky faced the woman who held her future.
“Tonight, you will be kissed by a gentleman who is here only to prove to you that you are a desirable woman.” Velvet stood, shook out her skirts and blew a kiss to Becky. “Sit still. He’ll find you.”
Before Becky could thank her, she winked and vanished into the growing crowd on the ballroom floor.
Shortly, a maid appeared bearing a silver tray. Becky recognized the girl called Chrissie who helped her to dress earlier. The pale blonde curtsied and offered the tray. “Take the champagne and the note. Both are from an admiring gentleman.”
She sipped at the wine, the bubbles working their magic, and unfolded the note.
Chrissie sank down next to her. “I’m dying to know what he said. He’s possibly the most divine creature here tonight. Do you like my dress?”
Becky glanced at the girl. She appeared enamored by her pale pink maid’s gown. Grinning at the youthful self-absorption, Becky turned to the letter.
“I’ve always appreciated the beauty of a rose, its petals fully unfurled. Dance with the maid. I desire to see you move. An Admirer.”
Becky searched the room, but could find no person with sharp eyes and lascivious grin. Is this what Lady Velvet meant? Half of being able to enjoy sex was having the strength to permit yourself to be seduced.
The pretty blonde leaned close, peering at the note. “Dance? I love to dance. Do you?”
“Do you know who the note is from?”
The girl laughed. “Of course, I do. My mistress has the entire evening completely under her control.” She sobered and covered Becky’s hand with her own. “Lady Velvet would never permit you to be harmed. She only desires your happiness, tonight. Come…” She stood up and held out her hand.
“I don’t know how to dance to this music.”
Chrissie giggled and gestured to the floor. “Neither does anybody else. We are all fish out of water. I do know how to waltz. I could show you.”
Still trying to suppress the last shudders, Becky stood and followed the maid onto the floor. After some laughter and awkward moments, Chrissie remembered how to lead and had Becky stepping in time to the music.
“This is ridiculous. I can’t do this without looking at my feet…and my skirt hides them!” All at once, Becky felt insecure and lighthearted.
“Just follow my lead. Both my hands will let you know where we are going next. Watch me.”
Slowly, she relaxed into the evening. They managed to make a complete turn about the room. Chrissie begged others to join in.
The room began to sway. The scent of roses and beeswax mingled with exotic perfumes from the other costumed women. The music came to an end.
Becky stepped away, laughing still. “Thank you, Chrissie. I guess I needed to shake off the jitters.”
“May I cut in?” A deep voice interrupted.
Chrissie’s eyes widened. “Anytime, sir. How may I entertain you, tonight?”
Becky’s heart seized. The violins took up again. A slower song, something sad and yearning.
The man chuckled. “Oh, not you, my dear. I prefer a more seasoned dish when I am sampling the menu.”
Becky peeked over her shoulder and reached for Chrissie’s hand again.
The gentleman, his blond hair neatly trimmed for Wall Street, smiled, a dimple gracing his left cheek. “Would you?” His blazing blue eyes clashed with hers.
Trying to suppress the panic again, her tongue stuck. Until something prodded her to ask, “Do you like roses?”
Confusion clouded his face. “Roses?”
She nodded, waiting for the answer she already knew. This was not him.
“Excuse me, Miss Rebecca.” A uniformed footman stood with a silver platter before him.
She snatched the note from its surface, turning away from the eager man and Chrissie’s nosy person. Walking to the edge of the dance floor, she unfolded it and read:
“The bell of your gown sways with beauty. What treasures lie beneath? My imagination is left starving. Hungering for more—Your Admirer”
Again, she sought an answering smile amongst the partygoers. She found none. Her cheeks hot with anticipation, Becky absently fanned herself. Wandering the perimeter of the floor, she stopped at the buffet table. She selected several strawberries dipped in chocolate and picked up another flute of champagne. Once again, she sank onto a padded bench and sipped at the wine.
The strawberry, its thick chocolate sweetness, sharpened the flavor of her drink. She licked at her lips, savoring the mingling sensations. When another maid passed by, she handed off the plate and glass only to have a noted handed back to her. She smiled, unable to suppress the eager sensations fluttering in her stomach.
“Swallow again. Lips, teeth and throat…what a lucky piece of fruit.”
What, indeed, were these words doing to her? She reached for her lips, to still the tingling. She tried to stop it, but she swallowed anyway. Was he watching? From where? Would she know him when he came?
She tried to focus on the dancers, but all she saw was a sea of men. Suddenly, the long, lean legs, wide chests, masculine laughter…it all began a warming deep in her belly. Could it happen to her?
She was not looking for love. Having suffered through thirty-five birthdays, she knew better. So-called friends betrayed, lied, left, hurt…eventually those that insisted they were devoted discovered their own calling. She had her business. But being the boss only removed her farther from human contact.
She just wanted that one moment to believe…a sigh, a shiver, a hope.
The paper fluttered to the floor in front of her. She tried to figure out which dancer may have dropped it. Her hands shook.
“Such sad eyes. Is it from their ebon depths that the rain feeds the budding flower?”
Becky crushed the paper, fighting to stop the quivering of her jaw. She hadn’t realized how close to a bout of melancholy she had come. Swiping at her eyes, she stood, seeking a door away from all the people. Their heat, their noise, their hands, their…
She ran to the ladies room, letting the door swing shut behind her. True to everything in Club Divine, the thick carpet muffled the sound of her heels. A vase filled with open blood-red roses adorned the stainless steel counter. Somewhere in the depths of her mind, she catalogued the sound of the air-conditioning, the faint scent of chemicals and the ache in her heart.
The door opened behind her.
“I hope I haven’t frightened you.”
Her shoulders stiffened. His voice was light, but strong. She randomly thought it would make a magnificent tenor voice.
“Perhaps I am not every woman’s Prince Charming, but I thought I’d give tonight a try. Were my notes effective?”
She swiped at her cheek again, walked to the counter and touched a petal. “Lady Velvet gave me all these layers of clothing tonight. I can’t even feel this flower.”
“But, if I’m not mistaken, you felt my words.”
She nodded, tears beginning to clog her throat.
Silence echoed.
“You are a striking woman, Miss Rebecca.”
She sniffed, and caught sight of his reflection. They stared.
He wasn’t tall, or muscular. On the street, Becky would probably dismiss him. But his eyes, orbs of gold and hazel, they sparked.
He swallowed, smiling all the time. His adam’s apple bobbed. “I know how to draw pleasure from the most frigid woman.”
“You do?”
He nodded and took one step forward. “But it is not often I am offered the chance to meet one of Lady Velvet’s customers who actually wishes an emotional connection.”
She broke away from his piercing gaze. “Perhaps I’m just being foolish. I know there’s no future in such a meeting. But after all the doctors, I was beginning to wonder if I had lost that part of me…”
“Been pricked by a thorn once too many times?”
She met his crooked grin and blushed. “Yes, something like that.”
He encroached on her personal space. She felt the hoops in her skirt move and crush. “Miss Rebecca, you seem to have forgotten that it’s only a kiss.”
Her skin raised as his breath heated the nape of her neck. “It’s never just a kiss. Too often it is payment.”
His laughter this time was deep. “Did you not pay Lady Velvet?”
She turned, tamping down her desire to hyperventilate. “I did. I did not, however, pay you.” She eyed his lips. She detected the faintest hint of five o’clock shadow on his chin.
“You ran away from two men, tonight.” He continued to crowd her against the counter, reaching his hands around her, trapping her. “Why have you not run from me?”
Her pulse beat, her breath came a bit too fast. He pushed. He demanded. “I…don’t know.”
“Is there something you need from me?”
Lightheaded, she tried to focus. Becky nodded.
“What is it you need?”
“Just don’t hurt me.”
He leaned forward, blocking out the light, the noise, the night. Shaking with fear and need, she breathed deep.
Soft, warm, and sweet, he kissed her.
Sparks of warmth began in Becky’s chest. She drank in his scent.
His tongue touched hers.
Wet, hot, and hard.
And then he drew away.
She still held herself up against the counter. Struggling to focus, she felt the heat wash over her body.
He stood two steps back from her, still grinning. “I’ll be waiting for you on the floor. I know you dance.”
The door swung close behind him.
Becky stood for minutes cataloguing the multitude of sensations streaking through her limbs. He had only kissed her…
With quiet deliberation, she unhooked her bracelet, peeled the white gloves from her arms, and selected the most perfect rose from the bouquet. Careful of the thorns, she snipped the round blossom from its stem with her nails and threaded it into the knot of ribbon holding her hair up.
She smiled at her reflection. “It’s never just a kiss.”
And turned to rejoin the party.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This week’s installment for Club Divine was submitted by S.D. Grady.
Need more sweet and sensual romance? Check out “The Eyes of Sin”
Available for download at lyd September 26!
“The Eyes of Sin”
Lady Entwhistle, lately from Virginia, wanders into Manton’s Shooting Parlor on a grey London morning, seeking lessons in the proper use of firearms. What she gets is a jaded ex-officer who is more than eager to teach her anything she desires…
.
What a month! So much going on I don’t know where to start. First, I got the chance to meet one of my closest friends. I flew many hours across the border to spend a week with Jude Mason. It was like meeting my long lost sister after years apart. The main reason for the trip was to sit down and talk shop. We talked about many things to do with the writing process, brainstormed on plots, and at one time was sent to my room because I got a vacant stare. She recognized it as me going to work. It’s something us writers do, but seldom have the chance to see in others.
On my last night in Canada, I stood at the end of a fishing pier in Sidney, BC, watching the sunset and reflecting. Below is the last picture I took. It’s a great example of the beauty I experienced.
To say this was a great trip would be an understatement. I’ve been on some grand vacations and seen some amazing scenery. I’ve watched the sunrise from the deck of a ship in the Bahamas, watched the sunset from the top of a mountain in Colorado, even smelled the fresh morning sea breezes from the white sand beaches of Santa Rosa Island. The beauty of Vancouver Island equals all those, plus has my sister from another mother there. This trip will easily be a lifelong memory I’ll carry in my heart for the rest of my life.
In the meantime, I’ve managed to finish two stories, and started a new one. One has been tentatively accepted, the other is nearly ready to be submitted. I won’t or can’t go into much detail here on the un-submitted story, but I will post a little excerpt from the new story.
*Free Read*
In the introduction of this newsletter, I mentioned I’ve started a new story. I’m not ready to classify this as short, long, novella, or even what genre as it’s still in the process of gelling and forming on the pages. But I like where it’s going, and more importantly what it signifies. That being the return of my mojo.
That’s right. My need to write is back and it’s strong. I’ve missed my muse and I didn’t realize how much until he-she-it was gone. Now that I have the mojo back, I’m hanging on to it with a white-knuckle death grip. GRIN
So what inspired this story? Something completely out of the blue and unexpected. I was sitting in an airport, handwriting bits for another story when out of the blue a beleaguered woman slumped down in a seat across from me in a waiting area. It was one of the only nearly empty sitting areas, and it was why I’d chosen it. Apparently, so had she. Well, she pulled out a cell phone and made a call. Despite my trying to concentrate on my writing, I couldn’t help but overhear her conversation. Below is a what my muse told me to write. It’s been changed from the actual events for reasons of anonymity of the parties involved. Namely to protect the guilty. GRIN.
Warning this is very rough, and unedited.
Untitled:
Derek tried to keep his focus on his notepad as the woman slumped down in the seat across from him. Just a moment before, he was deep into a story idea, the world miles away. It had been a long time since he’d had a chance to write anything other than the reports he did for the magazine.
The woman leaned forward on the vinyl seat, the creak of the material against her jeans distracting him further. He closed his eyes, wishing her away, but it didn’t work. Her loud, exasperated sigh into her hands, pulled him completely out of his writing.
He watched her shoulders bob and heard her sobbing softly. Just then her cell phone rang and she looked up, their eyes meeting. In the brief moment they were looking at each other, Derek noticed the redness rimming her eyes matched that of her nose. The sobs hadn’t just started, they’d been going on for some time. She sniffled and dabbled at her eyes as she held up her phone. Another wave of sobs shook her body and she pressed a button on the phone, stopping the ring and softly said, “Fuck you, bastard.”
She then dialed a number on the phone and seconds later said, “Hi, Grandma. It’s Dorian.” There was a pause as she listened to the phone. “I’m in the Seattle airport. I’m waiting for a flight out of this Godforsaken town.”
She dabbed at her eyes again.
“I-I left him for good this time. I can’t take it any more.” She took a ragged breath.
Derek stared at a spot miles beyond the page in his lap. He could almost hear the voice on the other end of the phone, but not quite.
“I caught him in bed with someone, again.”
Derek didn’t look up at the woman, but wanted too. He could feel her pain like a rush of cold air. He had the sudden urge to cross the short distance between them and comfort the woman, but knew it was impossible. She’d know he’d been eavesdropping.
As if she was suddenly aware of being heard, she lowered her voice. “Grandma, this time it was another woman. I caught James with some woman.”
This time Derek heard the voice on the other end as the woman said, “What? But I thought he was—”
“Grandma. He’s not gay.” Dorian cut her off. She leaned back, dragging a hand through her hair. “I could handle his interest in other men. I couldn’t give him what he need in that way. But another woman? In my bed? No fucking way!”
***
Derek Musgrave
The Portal of Eros Newsletter: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/d_musgrave_newsletter/
Hi readers of lyd blog. Today is my day to write. Before I took this project on, I pledged to myself to write about parts of my life so that you can get to know me. Today I’m writing about my first love, Bill. It’s rated PG and definitely will not turn you on; it’s merely a snapshot moment of my life.
My God…I wonder if he lived. Bill, I mean. I don’t know what I’d say if he suddenly showed up on my doorstep. I think I’d run and hide. Or pass out. Yeah, I’d probably pass out.
I’ll never forget him. For now, I’ll call him Bill. I met him in a factory where I worked, Hanover Valves Inc. He stood so tall and strong, turning girl’s heads as he passed by. He wore his hair in a Beatles’ cut. A pair of fashionable dark-rimmed glasses perched atop his chiseled nose and ninety percent of the times I saw him, he chewed gum. He wore neat button down shirts and combed cotton jeans.
At the factory I checked valves at a machine called a function tester. Bill gathered the valves on my floor and took them up to the second floor. While I tested the plastic parts, we talked and joked on company time. Today I cringe. My attention stayed on Bill, not on my job. I hope no one got defective washing machines because I was goofing off on the job!
By day, Bill worked in the factory and by night he ran a rock band that had jobs in eighteen year-old bars. I merely worked during the day.
One Friday night after payday, my girlfriend Pam and I sat in my dad’s car that I’d forgotten to return to him the previous week. “I’m in deep s**t, Pam.”
“Oh, your dad’ll forgive you.”
By nine that evening, snow had covered the streets and sidewalks and I needed to get home safely. The white stuff threatened to stop traffic. Pam needed a ride home, too. The red needle behind the steering wheel pointed toward the E.
Pam quit daubing her lips with the gold tube of iridescent pink lipstick, turned down the blaring music and leaned into my side, the driver’s side of the car. She peered at the panel of the ‘64 Oldsmobile and declared with sarcasm in her tone, “It’s not empty.”
“Pam, it is,” I said, aggravated and rolled my eyes toward the ceiling.
“Carol, you can get us to the next gas station. It’s only twenty miles up this road. It’s not empty until the red thing is directly on top of the E.”
“I don’t have any money if we got there, which we wouldn’t.” I bit my lip.
“You just got paid, didn’t you?”
I thought of my $45 paycheck. “Uh…I spent it already.”
“This is great. Just great. Now the heck what?” Pam peered behind me, out the back driver’s window. “Who’s that? Roll down your window, Carol.”
What is she talking about? I swiveled my head and gazed out to my left. My mouth dropped open when I saw him. It took me a moment to gather my senses. “Oh. Hi Bill?” I asked, making his appearance in my moment of need seem not too much of a momentous event.
He’d been chewing gum and stopped to say, “Having trouble, ladies?”
I glanced at the guy who sat in the passenger seat of Bill’s luxurious army green Chevy Impala. “No. I, uh, we ran out of gas, I think.”
“Need a ride, Carol?” He revved the engine. “How about your friend?” he asked and smiled an award winning smile that seemed to be directly linked to my heartrate.
“She’s–her name’s Pam.”
Bill pointed to his passenger. “Steve, Pam. Pam, Steve. Hop in girls. Let’s go for a ride.”
“But the roads ‘re bad,” I protested.
“Nah. We’ll go spin wheelies out at the high school.”
From that moment on I was in love. It turned out that Steve was his lead guitarist. They started dragging us around to all the eighteen year-old bars in southern Wisconson that year, 1967. We drank Cokes and sat at tables while they played songs like Louie, Louie and Saffron.
To me, the Viet Nam War seemed non-existent and happening to another country. I seemed oblivious to the fact that thousands of boys around my age group were dying in a far off land. I had no idea why the troops were there. That’s a whole different story.
His family, especially his mother seemed to like me a lot. I liked them in return.
One night after we’d dated for a month or so, while sitting out in my folk’s driveway, he opened a small box and brought out a diamond engagement ring.
“Oh no! What is that?”
He slipped the ring on my finger and said, “Will you be my wife?”
I blinked in shock. “Your wife?” I am only eighteen, I thought. Barely out of high school! Dad and Mom will…I don’t want to think about it.
“I dunno.”
“Take it and wear it. Give it back later if you don’t want it.”
“Bill…”
Without further protest, I accepted it. Within the month, the tragic twist followed.
“I don’t want to get married,” he said. “I’m going to enlist in the army.”
“The marriage isn’t going to happen?” I’ve told everyone…my family my friends…
“No. My mom forced me into it.”
“Why?”
“I dunno. I guess ‘cause I wanted to enlist.”
I put the ring in his palm, went inside crying and told my parents, who seemed pleased the engagement ended.
Before Bill went off to war, out of basic training, he stopped by the house to say goodbye. I don’t know what happened to him after that day. I’d not be telling the truth if I told you that more than a few times I’ve thought of him. In fact, I’ve googled his name and several cities I thought he may live in, but cannot find a match. I don’t know if he died in Viet Nam.
——-
I’ll just bet after sharing that piece of my life with you, you’ll really want to read more about me. Yeah. Right. He he.
Before I forget, I want to mention that Gentlemen’s Bride received 5 angels from NeNe yesterday from Fallen Angel Reviews.
Check out all the details at http://carol-mckenzie.com or http://mckbooks.com
Although I’ve posted on a few of the other LYD blogs already, I thought my first posting to this one probably ought to be an introduction.
Hello.
I’m writing this on a soggy day in the English West Midlands, between edits, working on a story, sending out druidy stuff to an assortment of students and fetching my child home from school. A typical Monday, as I recover from gigs and concert going at the weekend. Music and Druidry are two major threads in my life. For more of that sort of thing, visit http://www.brynneth.org.uk
Where fiction is concerned, I dabble in all sorts of different things – fantasy, poetry, short stories, novels, historical, romance, horror… usually with a dash of smut. I love the way erotic situations expose the soul and psyche of characters (and people in real life). It’s also my kink. Writing about sex, reading about sex – that’s my major fetish. Sometimes to the point of perversion – there are things I do on paper that I can’t do in real life, or wouldn’t choose to. sometimes writing about it is the most fun. And, being a bit of an exhibitionist, I love to share, to roll my fantasies out in public so that other people can get their kicks too.
At the moment, I’m writing from the male perspective more than not – sex as a man being one of those things I can’t do in real life. But it’s so much fun to think about. Life may give us quite a few limitations, but imagination can break through every last one of them.
Advance release info for \”The Silver Scream\” by S.D. Grady
As much as I enjoy wallowing in a good romance, quite often in fact, there is still that part of me that desires to explore that more honest part of life…the darkness. The fear, the unseen, the unknown…
Before I became enamored of the Regency Romances that flood the supermarket checkout, I was a devout fantasy reader and watcher of suspense films. Alfred Hitchcock was, and is, my favorite. I don’t need gore, dismembered bodies and endless screams to snare my interest. It’s the shadow of something passing by, that chill that raises the hair on your neck and the unstaunched passion to do something wrong that makes stories come to life for me in a way the sweet Happily Ever After tales do not.
“The Silver Scream” is an exploration into this world for me. A taste of curiosity that has the potential to kill, denied obsessions and pent-up frustrations. As members of the human race, we all experience these emotions. It’s part of what makes us more interesting than a pretty girl trying to find a lover or husband. The years of denial create conflicts within us that color our reactions to those around us…do we want to help or want to hurt?
Perhaps those darker feelings are perceived as less noble, but are they? Without temptation, would there be satisfaction? Without fear, would we know security? Without unbound lust, would we be capable of acknowledging devotion engendered through acceptance of our lover’s foibles?
Dark Fantasy…don’t be afraid. In every one of us lies the ability to attain greatness, but in order to achieve the goal we often must travel the forbidden paths scoffed at my so many others. Join me, and my fellow Dark Fantasy authors, at lyd as we explore and discover all that can be found within the human heart.
The Silver Scream will be available for download on Friday July 18th! Click on the Advance Release info link at the top of this post to listen to the podcast or visit my website for an excerpt…to tempt the devil in you.
Hello all and welcome to loveyoudivine’s new Blog!!
Please check out the different genres on the right to hear from your favorite authors in each genre…
-Christina Seay
Little Ole’ Me Designs
