My body is a temple.

Picture from National Institute of Massotherapy

I'm giving myself the present of a massage and facial today.

What presents do you like to give yourself?

Surround yourself with beauty.

I think a lot of writers have this tedious self discipline and denial attitude towards their writing. That you have to get up at 3 am or force yourself to work in order to actually finish the book.

As an eternal contrarian, I think writing is self care. I do it because it makes me feel wonderful, and therefore, I want to do it a lot. And denial breeds resentment, not joy.

So in practicing what I preach, I indulged myself in some personal beauty.

First, I got a gorgeous henna this past weekend. Sorry for the view of the sink, but that's where the light was good. :) Isn't this a beauty??

Then yesterday, I painted over a semi-circular window in our house. This window faces south and it can get quite bright in that room. I took down the fabric I'd stapled there years ago, and came up with this little confection.

Inspiration

These are the pictures that inspired Rachel and Rod:

 Doesn't she look like trouble? I see her as a rebel and daredevil.

And he looks very uptight to me. :) The kind of guy who never misses a chance to do sit ups, fill out paperwork, and dot every lowercase j.

The coolest thing about writing?

Is the odd-ball stuff my brain throws at me.

I've had this beginning rolling around in my head for a while:

“Get a load of her,” a man’s appreciative voice came across the bar.

Rod Wachowska looked up at the entrance of the club. And trouble brought all his carefully constructed fictions tumbling down.

Rachel Albin stood in the doorway, her black tuxedo jacket cut to her navel and her skirt up to her butt cheeks. And just like he had twenty years ago in high school, Rod got a present in his pants.

And from here I have some vague ideas about a reckless woman with a secret deathwish and the By-The-Book man who yearns for her. 

Give-away!

I've painted a new one-of-a-kind fan. 

Be the first person to tell me, here on this blog, in what city is the Topkapi Palace?

World War I sucked.

Dulce et Decorum Est
by Wilfred Owen

Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!—An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime...
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,—
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.



Note: Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori - it is sweet and right to die for your country. In other words, it is a wonderful and great honour to fight and die for your country.

Use asbestos gloves with this one!

Mike is as turned on as I am. He gasps and with careful hands, piles my hair on top of my head so he can see my lips work him. The feel of his fingers on my scalp sends jolts down my nipples and makes me moan around his flesh.

Todd’s balls slap my lower lips as he works in and out of me. He clenches my hips hard once, then spanks my upturned ass. Surprised, I squeal and buck. The men block my motions, but not my low moan of arousal.

“I see you picked up some new tricks,” Mike murmurs in my ear and tightens his hand in my hair.

Both ends sting. In a really good, dog howling, down and dirty, let’s-get-nasty kind of way. Excitement pools in my belly at the restriction. Todd’s hand falls again and again. I can hear Todd alternately swearing and muttering something about making me not able to sit for three days. Juices surge down my thighs.
The extra moisture isn’t wasted. Todd’s diabolical thumb, completely soaked, inches a path into the dark, forbidden area of my anus. Suspended between the two men my body spasms with electric shocks.

Mike’s cock starts leaking in my mouth. His prized control is waning. I don’t know how much more I can take. I speed up my sucking to match Todd’s rhythm, knowing both men are sprinting toward the finish. I have a suspicion their orgasms will trigger another for me. I’m already trembling, barely able to keep myself on my hands and knees. It won’t take much to make me scream.

A loud speaker blares. “Shoppers, the store will be closing in five minutes. Please take your purchases to the cashier. Thank you for shopping at J. C. Penney’s.”

Maybe it was just saying Todd’s employer’s name but he lost it on the final word. Mike is seconds behind him. I’m nearly there. Todd figures it out and reaches for my clit.

“Oh, sweet fucking God,” I scream into Mike’s hip. The boys hold me up as I hang between them, shaking as the explosions leave me helpless and limp.

Oh, yeah. I’ll never despise JC Penney’s again. Hell, I’ll shop here five days a week, and twice on Saturdays from now on.

For the next sixty seconds we remain frozen like an artsy wax tableaux. Then we all move at once.

Todd draws back and zips his pants. “You’ve got to go.” His hoarse voice scarcely above a whisper.

“Really?” Mike asks, moving in a languid way designed to drive Todd as crazy as it used to make me when my mother’s footstep neared. “You don’t want another round?”

Todd’s head pivots on his shoulders as he searches the store. “Wait in the dressing room.” He points toward Sportswear. “It’ll take me a few minutes.”

“We’ll meet you there.” Mike says to Todd’s back as he hurries away.

“Have you lost your mind?” I demand as I adjust my clothing.

Mike chuckles. “I didn’t hear you complaining. But no, we’re not meeting Todd-o for another round. We just want to give him hope and a good story to tell. Besides, you still want to thank me for a lovely night.”

Warning - this is HOT.

“Nice, aren’t they?” Mike says casually.

I tilt my head back to see the hands squeezing my breasts belong to a dark haired young man with a name tag. I squint. Todd. If Todd is twenty, I’d be surprised. I glare at Mike whose response is an easy shrug. Mike and I are going to be talking about this, I can tell you.

I remind myself revenge is a dish best served cold. And right now, I’m very hot.
“Roll over.” He kneels by my face, his erection still firm in his hand. “Mr. Wiggly needs your soft lips and Todd, here, needs to sell this mattress or get a reward.”

Todd grunts at the mention of the reward. Mike tosses the younger man a foil pack and waits on me.

Mike knows I chafe at orders, so I take my time. I sit up, adjust my skirt and halter. I narrow my eyes at Todd, sizing him up. There’s a promising bulge in his chinos. Like the conspirators we’ve always been, both Mike and I grin. Todd grins back. He’s got a toothy, naughty smile, like a young Dennis Quaid. My pussy swells at the sight. This could be fun.

I roll onto my hands and knees and edge to the corner of the bed. Todd is the only one not undressed, but he’s fast on the draw. He hikes my skirt over the small of my back and reaches between my legs. Todd tips my ass up and spreads my cheeks, obviously taking a leisurely look at my pussy. I wiggle at him only to hear the condom packet rip.

My hand slides around Mike’s hard erection and remember why I’ve been excited all week. He’s got the most perfect cock. A shapely, thick head tops his veined shaft with hot red temptation.

I dream of his penis, even when I’m awake. My cubicle often wafts female arousal from my frequent fantasies. Thank heavens I’m stuffed in an unpopular corner by the stairwell.

Pressing my lips around him, I inch forward. Pre-cum dew covers the shiny head making it easy to encompass him. He groans. I open my eyelids wide and look up at him. It’s his turn to throw his head back and work his jaw. Satisfaction ripples up my spine at the knowledge he is as helpless in his lust as I am in mine. Sighing, I lose myself in the sensation of smooth skin and sweet-salty hot hard flesh in my mouth.

The sound tells me Todd’s zipper is metal. There is a moment of adjustment before he plunges inside. Normally I’m the kind of girl who likes at least a little warm up. But tonight that’s already been taken care of. And how! He slides right in and I squirm against his lengthy cock.

Todd has twenty-year-old finesse. What he does have going for him is a long strong stroke that finds sweet spots with no help from him. He’s pretty good now, but in a few years, he’ll be devastating. He pumps hard, more interested in his satisfaction than in mine. Although he may be hurrying to avoid the possibility of the unemployment line if we’re discovered.

I clench around Todd’s thick erection and shudder. Mike in my mouth, a hard nearly teenager in my cunt – this is the very definition of heaven. I can barely breathe, but I don’t care.

Bringing sexy back.

Time to get back to the naughty story!

Part One is here. Part Two, here.

Part three: Right here!


I’d normally roll my eyes at his juvenile taunt, but I’m halfway there already. The sheer naughtiness of our scenario has primped my pump, so to speak. I pinch my pleasure. The intense sensation makes me arch my neck against the cool mattress cover.

I open my eyes a fraction. He’s still out of his jeans, and he’s breathing hard. I shudder at the look on his face. I shove two fingers in me, and my pussy clenches them hard. It wants something else to hang onto. I’d gotten wet the minute he opened his apartment door for me and now I’m getting what I need. I pet my clit and grind against my fingers. Breath wheezes through my teeth.

"yeah, like that.” He leans over the bed, breathes me in. Bracing one hand beside me, he gives his penis a twisting caress. “Stroke your clit like a little cock for me. Jack it.”

I obey. My head rolls back and forth against the mattress, lost in the sensations. Clenching my jaw, I hold back a sound. It might have been a wail, or even a groan, but it doesn’t matter. Five days of tension, since his out-of-the-blue call, have me reaching my crest.

My hips come off the mattress as I dig my heels in, tucking them almost under me. I’m spread so wide my thighs tremble. Lights strobe under my eyelids.

After all these years, Mike’s looking at me again with his hot blue eyes. I haven’t felt this aroused in I don’t know how long. My mind screams. Give me what I need. My body rolls toward orgasm. I’m so close to my peak.

“Open wide, baby,” he whispers and strokes my chin. “Take me deep.”

But I can’t. The sandalwood scent of Mike’s crotch is my final trigger, and then I’m too far over the edge to relax my jaw.

“Oh, Jesus,” I moan. My body clenches in convulsions. My neck arches against the mattress as the orgasm sends hot electric shocks up and down my torso.

I pant as my vagina ripples, mostly sated, but still hungry, against my fingers.

Hands push my black halter top aside, clasp my breasts, and knead. Clever fingers twist my nipples.

Breathing takes all my concentration. I need to force my eyes open, though. Mike is waiting on me. I’m dying to know what my performance has done for him.

Sometimes, a girl just needs some saddleshoes.

Are these NOT the most darling things ever???

The places I work: part three

Yesterday, I worked at Insomnia Coffee Company.  This quirky, fun space is filled with other people on laptops, music, and really really good coffee. Like, Vienna levels of good coffee!

The places I work: part two

Crazily enough, sometimes I like to work at home. Yesterday I worked at my dining room table.

I like being surrounded by the paintings that I've made for the house.

The one on the right is based on a Persian textile detail.

Something about spreading out on the table makes me feel relaxed and homey.

This is a picture I painted that is in the living room, but I can see it from the dining room when I work there.

The places I work.

I like variety. I work best when I feel permitted to work wherever I want. I could be at my desk, at a library, a coffee shop, or even the sofa with my computer on my lap. This week, I'm going to showcase a few places I like to work.

Yesterday, I went to the Hillsboro Public Library.  I particularly like this location because it is in a beautiful building with great staff. It overlooks a complex of ponds and walking paths and has abundant natural light. I also used to work for this library system, and several of the librarians still know me. They are always interested and encouraging of my new career.

The view from the window.

 I like being places where I am inspired by other people working. Also, it's encouraging to see all these books that have been published. They tell me that even though writing is hard, it is worth it.

I usually take off all my jewelery when I write. I'm not sure why.

More groovy places coming up!

Important notes

I've said it before and I'll say it again - writers, care for your instruments. Not your laptop, not your brain, but your body. If you forget to treat your body with tender love and affection, pretty soon your brain will turn into a whirling mess of messy, whirling thoughts.

Which is why I made an immediate appointment for a hot-stone massage this morning and followed it with a bath at home. When one's shoulders make scary crunchy noises, one is best served to step away from the keyboard and so something that uncurls the spine.

Found on the Internet

The amazingly talented Lindsay Samuels created an amazingly wonderful website called LibraryScienceDegree.org.


I admit to busting a gut when I read her 50 Most Hated Characters in Literature entry. I adored her Top Ten Fictional Feminist Icons of All Time, too.

I am now inspired to go figure out my own fictional feminist icons. What are some of yours?

Go, read, enjoy!

Turkish rugs.

The Charming Man and I experienced the ultimate in shopping delight on our last day in Istanbul.

We hung up  the larger carpet.

We ended up (through a goofy sequence of events) at Onur Carpet and Kilim Story. The website is currently down, but here is a description:

 A selection of authentic handmade, all natural vegetable-dyed carpets, saddle bags, grain sacks, cradles, salt bags, pillows, runners and kilims. Mimar Mehmet Aga Caddesi, #13/15,Istanbul - Sultanahmet 34400 TURKEY.

There, we drank rose tea, chatted endlessly about being a writer of sexy novels, and the possibilities of making love on a silk Turkish carpet.
 We got to walk on dozens of silk rugs. Let me tell you, there is nothing like silk under your feet. So sensual, cool, and peaceful.

We weren't really in the market for a rug, so we started with just looking at the endless beauty and creativity that handmade rugs offer. Hand made rugs are a dying art form - they are extremely labor intensive and therefore expensive.

Onur Carpet gave us a great deal.

Detail from the larger carpet.

They added this smaller rug for us. We have it in front of our TV.

So yeah, that writing thing.

I'm at the first draft stage of Book Two, the sequel to Dracula's Secret. I thought I might give you all a peek into what I've been doing for research and prep work.

 Here is Daniel Craig, the model for my hero Lance Soliel. I have several pictures of him (yes, in various states of undress) to show me what Lance's moods and body language is like.

 Here are some pictures of Georgia May Jagger (daughter of Jerry Hall and Mick Jagger). She is the model for my antagonist for Book Two. I've got that character's backstory and Goal, Motivation, and Conflict finished. She's going to be very cool, and I think very different from anyone I've written before.

 I like to start off with hand-writing a lot of my first draft ideas and scenes. Keeps me from getting too self-critical about the quality of the work and lets me just roll with my brain.

I also have my plot turning points figured out for my main three characters and their relationships with each other and themselves. This gives me a road map of where I'm going, instead of flailing around blindly for ideas. I just have to look over my notes and something will trip my creative triggers.

And there we go!

I'm off to work now.

The Topkapi Palace

The Turkish Military keeps armed guards at the Palace.

 The Charming Man and myself spend over five hours at the awe-inspiring Topkapi Palace. To quote Wikipedia,

The Palace was the official and primary residence in the city of the Ottoman Sultans for 400 years of their 624-year reign,^[2] from 1465 to 1856.

Here are a few of my favorite photos to give you an idea of how huge, lavish, and jaw-dropping this palace.

This was a quiet day at the Topkapi Palace

The interior of the Library of Ahmed III.

I think every library should look like this!

Again, Wikipedia:

The Imperial Hall (Hünkâr Sofası), also known as the Imperial Sofa, Throne Room Within or Hall of Diversions, is a domed hall in the Harem, believed to have been built in the late 16th century. It has the largest dome in the palace. The hall served as the official reception hall of the sultan as well as for the entertainment of the Harem. Here the sultan received his confidants, guests, his mother, his first wife (Hasseki), consorts, and his children. Entertainments, paying of homage during religious festivals, and wedding ceremonies took place here in the presence of the members of the dynasty

Breathtaking stained glass in the private chambers in the Haram.

Visiting Cagaloglu Hamami

I don't have a Turkish keyboard, so I don't have the diacritics that belong in the name. Please forgive me!

Photo from www.istanbul-turismo.com

When I was in Istanbul, the one place I knew I had to visit was a hammam. I went to one of the most famous Hamams in the world - Cagaloglu Hamami.

This is the description I sent my fellow author, Sloan Addams. She calls me Wonder Woman. I call her Power Girl.

***

Power Girl! I have come to the conclusion that the hamam is the cure for all the world's ills.

First, some nice lady pours hot water all over you as you sit on a heated marble floor. Then you get to lay there in wet, fabulous bliss. She comes in with soap and a exfoliating mitt and scrubs you all over, front and back, so that your skin is incredibly smooth and clean. This is not fast, either. It's complete relaxation.

You get rinsed by more hot, clean water splashed over you. This feels like heaven.

Then you realize that heaven is even cooler than you thought, because you get a massage with the soap suds. The soap and water is so thick and bubbly that your massage is slick and relaxes every damn part of yourself.

Finally, she washes your hair.

At the end, you ooze your boneless way back to your little room and try to remember how to put on clothes.

I bought some of the soap and one of the mitts there, so I can give myself a cheater's hamam here at home. No heated marble floors, you know. ;)

***
Her response?



Wonder Woman - I just turned green.

Random internet radio news

Norah Jones, while very nice, is a let-down after hearing Aretha Franklin.

This is the Hagia Sophia

 I have no words for this former Church, then Mosque, now a museum. So I'll let the pictures speak for themselves.

Hot stuff for an autumn lunchtime

So, we left our naughty couple in the bedding department of JC Penny's....    

     I follow his directions and stretch across the pristine white fabric. I toe my strappy sandals off and let them drop to the floor as I scootch to the middle. It’s actually a good mattress, the support comforting and arousing at the same time.
     Mike stands at the foot of the bed, looking me over. “Inch it up, baby, I want to see.” The boy always was a voyeur. The peek show I had given him obviously whetted his appetite for a longer perusal.
      Slowly I ride my skirt up to my waist.
      “Spread ‘em.”
      I open my legs an inch, then stop. I arch an eyebrow. “Unzip.”
      He runs his hand up and down the length of his erection, casually curling his thumb under the top button of his low riding Levi’s. He pops it, and the rest follows, smooth as butter. My legs automatically spread wide as if I had ball bearing in my hips. The sound of button fly jeans always made me salivate. Guess his memory is better than I thought.
       He’s not wearing underwear, just the way I always liked it. I want that hot hard length in my hands and I sit up. He wags a finger at me. “Nuh-uh. My game, not yours tonight.”
       “Whatever.” But I lie back down, run my hands up and down my thighs, framing my clipped pubis. He’ll play my games later.
       He wraps his hand around his cock, strokes with elegant, lazy fingers. “Open up for me.”
       I dig my fingers into my labia and unfurl them. Mike licks his lips, and swallows, as if the sight of me has made his mouth water. He yanks once hard on himself and cups his balls.
      “Can you come quietly?”
       “Not if you’re any good, I can’t.” I breathe. My fingers on one hand creep toward my clit, and the other teases my opening.
       “Prove it.”

Found on the Internet

From Overthinkingit.com--The Flow Chart of Female Characters

Go to link to embiggen. :)

Llubljana is freaking gorgeous.

Old town Ljubljana is beautiful and inviting.

Up the hill to Ljubljana Castle.

The old castle walls are great fun.

 A better picture of the Castle is here at Wikipedia.

Told ya it was gorgeous.

Give-away!

In celebration of 10-10-10, here's a new fan!

This one goes to the first person who can tell me where I saw Rembrant's "The Jewish Bride"!

Naughty stuff, part two.

Either Mike’s memory of high school changed or he’d had more fun with women other than myself. As soon as I get in his blue Chevy, Mike turns on the motor.
     “Where are we going?”
      “You’ll see.”
      He turns in at the Mall’s crowded lot and drives toward the front door of JC Penney’s. The good-parking karma fairy was apparently as hot for this action as Mike. Because right in front was a spot. Easily seen from the lot. Easily seen from the store.
      Mike shuts off the engine and turns. He raises an eyebrow.
      Uncertain of my line, I say, “Thank you for a lovely night?”
      Mike grins. “The night’s young, baby. Come on.” He hops out of the truck, leaving me to fumble with the sticky catch. I bite my lip in disappointment. This wasn’t what I hoped for.
      The door opens, but I had nothing to do with it. He winks at me, the heavy metal swinging easily on its hinges for him. “Don’t you trust me by now?”
      Years of on-again, off-again sex have taught me well. “Not so much.” But I recover. I take my time sliding off the bench seat, letting my serious black skirt ride way up, exposing the charcoal colored thigh highs I put on before I drove to his house. If I’d been wearing panties, I would have flashed those as I bent over for my purse. Instead, I flashed something he’d once known very well.
“Where to now?” I turn around, my eyes wide and innocent.
       He shakes out his pants. He always did like my rear view. Gotcha, I mouth. Wench, he mouths at me. Lightly touching the small of my back, he guides me into JC Penney’s. Not my favorite store, but at least it’s not that irritating girly place with bad accessories.
      “Over here.” His hand steers me towards the elevator. My breathing speeds up. Elevator sex! All right!
Mike punches the button for the third floor, and stands on the other side of the elevator.
      “Stay over there,” he orders.
      “What the hell for?” I snap. I hate waiting and he knows it.
      “Patience, grasshopper.”
       “Fuck off, Master Po.”
       “In a minute, darling.”
       The elevator dings open. He leads me towards the darkened bedding department. “I think I need a new bed.”
      “Did you make up that high school make-out thing just to get me to do something more perverted?”
      “Naw, I just wanted to see if you were still as easy to sway to the dark side as ever.” He grins. “No one else was ever as much fun as you, babe.”
       I grin back. How can I help it? Mike is always my favorite fantasy.
       Toward the back of the bedding department, Mike chooses a mattress. I search the department. A decided lack of clerks or patrons and a tall cardboard display blocks the security camera.
      Marvelous.

Back to pictures. ;)

I'll continue Mike's naughty adventures tomorrow. Today, we discover Slovenia. Part of the former Yugoslavia, Slovenia finally achieved independence in 1991. It is a beautiful country full of amazements.

Beautiful mountains, rivers, and caves.

Underground caverns that look like the Mines of Moria, complete with underground river.

Fresh, amazing food.

That you can eat! My god, that prosciutto was fantastic.

Delicious wines.

And of course, very handsome men.

Taking a break from pictures.

I thought I might remind everyone that I do, actually, write hot and sexy fiction.  :)  A friend and I did a writing game, and this was the outcome.

Anything, Anytime

      Mike asks me, “Would you like to play a game?”

      I’ll play anything with him, anytime. “Yeah. What you got in mind?”

      “Let’s make out in my truck.”

      “Oh?” My voice rises, eager. A flush starts between my legs and I squirm a little on his sofa. We’d been civilized and restrained all during dinner, learning what the other had been up to in the last two years. Now the fun begins. “What’s the scenario?”

      “I’m dropping you off after a date, see –“

      “How old are we?”

      “High school, totally.”

      “Excellent.” My nipples tighten. We started fooling around in high school back when I still believed my body was a temple – designed for worship from afar. No, it’d been Mike who’d spent hours convincing me that worshiping from afar wasn’t nearly as exciting as up close and personal. The man had wicked, sweet hands and could make a girl moan with the way his thigh fitted between hers. “What next?”

      “I pull up, put the truck in park, turn to you.”

      I look at his mouth, remember the way his full upper lip feels wrapped around my clit. There’s grey in his moustache now, but I’m looking forward to finding out how much he’s learned. “I say thank you for a lovely night?”

      “You got it. You wanna play?”

      “Let’s do it.”

     

To be continued....