Happy Birthday Lust Bites

Ho Ho Bloody Ho, as my dear old dad would say. Christmas is coming and it looks like Santa's already lost his suit, 'cause he's running around in his birthday suit. Hey! Speaking of birthdays, Lust Bites is one year old on December 5. Goo goo ga ga and zippity do da day!

There's a lot of good stuff going on in December at Lustbites.blogspot.com
so make sure to check us out, especially on the 10th, when we throw a virtual cocktail party with gorgeous gals, witty conversation and no hangover the next day.
As part of our Christmas celebrations we're holding a scavenger hunt, and as part of that scavenger hunt, you should be searching for my alternate penname. I wish it were Alice Munro or Stephen King, no really, I do. But it isn't. It's Madeline de Chambrey. Click on the penname link and it'll take you right to the Scavenger Hunt site where you can check out our megaprize boffobook scavenger hunt and pick up hints for hunting the easy way.

Speaking of easy, I'm making this easy for you because I have to make it easy for me, because I'm not as talented as some Lusties in the tech dept. So this is an easy one, to cut your teeth on, if you will. Good luck, merry merry, happy happy, kiss kiss.
Madeline

'Hurting Hugh'

Oh boy! There's nothing better than receiving an 'author copy' of an anthology that contains one of your very own stories - except, of course, receiving an 'author copy' of a novel written by you. Only by you I mean me.

Oh bother! What I'm trying to say is, I received an author copy of Getting Even: Revenge Stories today. My short story, 'Hurting Hugh' is terrific, if I do say so myself. It still makes me laugh. And it's full of rage, a need for vengeance, and a kind of joke rarely tell, jokes against men, lots and lots of jokes against men. The ending is cathartic, violent and intensely satisfying.

If you buy it (amazon.com, amazon.ca, amazon.uk etc.) let me know what you think of the stories, okay? And by you, I mean you.

Here's a taste:

I loved sex. At almost thirty I knew what worked for me and how to get it and I sure knew how to give it back. I was willing to experiment, sanely and consensually of course. That night, I just wanted to fall into kissing Hugh and see where it went. But I couldn't afford such sloppiness.
You can't let him think you're a slut and you can't let him think you're leading him on and you can't let him think you're a prude. It all has to do with timing and an awareness of the peculiarities of the man you're with. Information that you just don't have by the end of the first date.
Still, it was so terrific we kissed until our butts were frozen and it wasn't dusk any more, it was night. He tugged off a leather glove with his teeth and slipped his hand inside my many layers of clothing and cupped my breast. I rubbed his hard-on through his pants. He seemed satisfied with his handful and I was perfectly content with mine. Now I knew he could get it up and that he had decent sized equipment. That was enough information for one evening so, reluctantly, I admit, I insisted it was time to go. At the door to my building we kissed some more. We could see our breath rising like steam from two kettles on the boil. It was so great I hated to leave him there, alone, but I did. I always try to do the thing I will least regret if it turns out later to have been a mistake. Know what I mean?

September's Friday Smut Slot

The end of the month usually means bills, rent, and more bills to be paid. But I've been anticipating the end of September all month long, because this month, in fact RIGHT NOW, my book Wild Card is being featured on the Lust Bites post, right here at blogger.com.



Please skip, swoop, navigate or click your way over to Lust Bites and join in the fun.

This is the first time I've been excerpted at Lust Bites, and my fourth post. I'm finally proficient with blogger, so posting was, dare I say it, easy! I love it.


My other big news is that Mitzi Szereto's anthology Getting Even: Revenge Tales will be launched on November 1. My short story Hurting Hugh is in the collection, albeit credited to Madeline de Chambrey, and it's one I'm particularly proud of. Please watch for the anthology in bookstores, on line and in your neighbourhood.

I've been hesitant to announce that I have a new book contract with Black Lace primarily because I don't have the contract signed sealed and delivered, but happily there are still some people you can trust in the publishing business, and my editor at BL is one of them. I've spilled the beans in my Wild Card excerpt post, so the news is out now! I'm working hard on Amanda's Young Men, which is to be delivered at the end of January, 2008. I'll have more publishing details later, like, when I've had a good look at the contract.

As exciting as it was to sell my first novel to Black Lace,and believe me it was exciting, it's just as or even more exciting to have a second. Madeline Moore has legs! Yay!

You know, the shift from 'hope to be published' to published is a strange one - it happened over a fairly long period of time, in my opinion, but there's no denying that it's here now. I love it. Let me give that more emphasis. I LOVE IT!

Which doesn't mean I have a lot of $$ to pay those bills and the rent with, because I don't. But I can honestly say that life as a working writer is a rich and satisfying one. My association with Black Lace makes me feel like a pampered princess, and being part of Lust Bites is a fascinating and fun experience.

Who could ask for anything Moore?

Romance Galleria Guest on Wild Wednesday

Hi Everyone! Please come chat with me on Wednesday September 5 at the Romance Galleria. Here's the official promo:



Please come join Ally at The Romance Galleria on Wednesday September 5th 2007 at 9pm Eastern, 6pm Pacific, for Wild Wednesday. This Wild Wednesday’s feature guest author is ME! Madeline Moore, the Canadian erotic author of “Wild Card” and published by Black Lace.

The Thin White Sheet

Lust Bites is featuring a hot little essay on Sexual Fantasies today. One of the first fantasies, about doctors cooly examining their patient, reminded me of a fantasy based short story I wrote a long, long time ago - in fact it was one of the pieces D.M.Thomas read that inspired him to suggest I begin seriously writing erotica.

Here is part one of The Thin White Sheet:

The Thin White Sheet

She lies on a narrow table, naked under a thin sheet. Outside the open door, in the hallway, Lila hears the stop start sounds of the big shot doctor and his new team of sycophantic residents as they approach. She lets her knees fall open, ever ready. Dr. Harris stops again, the anxious group circling him. He is passing out invitations to his annual cocktail party for new residents. She knows this routine, she has been coming to this clinic for years. She chuckles to hear the muffled sound of heavily controlled excitement. They don't know what to do, these twittering birds, jump for joy or act as if they couldn't care less. Someday they will be doctors too. Someday they will have big houses, and difficult patients. Patients, perhaps, just like her.
The flock of doctors descends and the door is closed.
"You're just in time," she says, coolly appraising the group, "I was starting to get cold."
"This is an interesting case," says Dr. Harris, pulling up the thin sheet to expose her bent knees and open orifices. "She can only achieve orgasm anally."
"I'm sorry," says a skinny little Asian girl, her mouth curling up in consternation to match her eyes. "What does this mean?"
"Up the ass," says a big, black man. The skinny girl blushes to peach.
Dr. Harris' eyebrows raise slightly. "Graphic, Ben, but correct."
Ben grins, and Lila admires the vaginal pink and blueness of his lips.
"Observations, please," says the doctor. The five students snap on latex gloves in unison. As they gather around the woman the silence is not broken by her, rather, it is pierced by the sound of a beeper.
"Excuse me, " says the doctor. He grabs the beeper from his waist and watches the message march across the machine. The interns are totally silent, observing the doctor with adoration. Lila stretches and yawns. "There's an emergency at the hospital. I'll catch up with you as soon as I can. Until then, Ben, you're in charge."
They restrain themselves from bowing as the doctor leaves; Ben steps to the front, taking up twice the space the doctor did.
"Let's examine her for any unusual physical characteristics," he suggests. The other interns comply. Fingers descend into the patient's many orifices, counting her teeth, checking the strength of her vaginal muscle, the size of her clitoris, the suction of the anal sphincter. It is the latter, of course, that makes her gasp.
"What are you doing?" Ben says coldly at the sound of her indrawn breath. The guilty intern withdraws his finger, hiding his eagerness behind his thick glasses and thin, superior smile. In truth, he's probably never put his finger up an ass in his life. "Don't be an idiot. We're trying to cure her of that. "
"Why?" She speaks for the first time.
"If you don't know why you shouldn't be here," responds the Asian girl, both of her tiny yellow hands pressing the woman's abdomen.
"I 'm sorry, what does that mean?" Lila does a credible imitation of the girl and once again the intern blushes to peach. Ben wiggles his eyebrows at the embarassed girl and mutters, "She's got your number, Sandra."
"Yes," Lila thinks to herself, "and soon I'll have yours." Aloud she says, " I do know why I'm here. Do you?"
"Because it's unnatural," sputters another would-be M.D.
Lila looks Ben in the eye. "And you?"
"It's a dangerous practice these days. Besides, there's unlikely to be any physical reason for anal orgasm. It must be all up here." He taps his head.
"But surely the mind must be fucked before the body?"
"As the doctor in charge I suggest we continue the physical examination. " He is the one who leans his heavy hands on her breasts, though he gives the nipples to his sloe-eyed side-kick. The others take her temperature and pulse.
"It's confusing, really," mutters the bespectacled boy. "There would be no direct stimulation of the clitoris, no massage of the vaginal walls, how could she orgasm?"
Lila grunts with displeasure as the clumsy boy jams two fingers up inside her. "Take it easy." Peering through her knees she watches him stare at her cunt. Will he be the first to comment on the texture of her skin?
"Like velvet," murmurs Ben to Sandra. The girl nods, massaging the reluctant nipples into points.
"Very soft," she agrees.
Lila looks at Ben's black shining skin - her opposite, once again. She remembers a subway ride, long ago, and groans at the jarring difference between the bliss she encountered then and the torture she undergoes now. All in the name of science.
"It's beyond me," complains the lad with his fingers still twitching inside her.
"I think we need more information. Maybe we should wait for Dr. Harris."
"Here is all the information you need," she says haughtily, pushing on his chest with her heel to get his annoying hand outside her body," I am a woman. A woman should be fucked everywhere she can be fucked. In the cunt. In the mouth. Certainly in the ass."
The young doctors back away from the sudden vehemence of her expression and the force of her statements. She looks at the Asian girl, Sandra, who glances down, and at Ben, the black man, who meets her glare with one of his own.
"Men should stick everything they have, their cocks, their tongues, their toes and fingers, their noses if possible, into every orifice of a woman. Every inch of her should be fucked - her ears, behind her ears, her throat, the elbow, behind the knee. And when every other place is exhausted, he should put his weapon, his dick, as far up her ass as possible, break the last taboo, and claim the last space. That's how it should be. But that's not how it is. Get out."
"I'm in charge here," protests Ben, but it's too late. The frightened young doctors make haste to exit the tiny room. "Sandra, wait. I'll see the rest of you in the conference room in twenty minutes." The students, grateful for a break, take wing. Sandra reluctantly stays behind. Again the door is closed.
"You've humiliated me in front of my colleagues," Ben informs Lila. He hovers above her, dark and menacing. "You should be punished."
She has drawn the sheet down over her knees, leaving her bottom half covered, and her breasts exposed. Only the gleam in her eyes shows her willingness to participate.
"Let it go, Ben," mutters Sandra, pulling at his arm. He pulls away.
"We can do it Sandra. We can cure this sick woman and teach her a valuable lesson at the same time." He meets the tiny girl's eyes in a long, even stare. She drops her smooth, creaseless lids after a moment, and approaches the woman on the table. Sandra massages the large white breasts with her tiny hands, tweaks the nipples non too gently, then lowers her full lips to and begins to suck. Ben approaches the woman, Lila, and strokes her cheek. "Your skin is amazing." She raises one hand to his wrist and touches it, tries to circle it with her fingers but of course cannot. It's too big. She cups her palm around the knuckles and he makes a fist, burrowing it into her hand. There is a peaceful moment, as Sandra suckles softly at Lila's breast, then Ben removes his curled hand from Lila's and uses it to pull his cock from his pants and stick it in her mouth.
Ben's cock is huge, filling Lila's mouth, pressing against the back of her throat. She wills herself to open, not to choke. Sandra's hand slides down Lila's belly to her cunt and holds it for a moment before one slender finger invades the wet, soft space. Lila grinds against it, such a tiny thing inside her. She squeezes the walls of her vagina in a futile effort to trap the finger, to make it matter. Ben leans forward on the table, sticking his huge cock even further down her throat, and at last Lila is forced to surrender, gasping and choking for air. He pulls his cock from her mouth. Her spittle and a string of pre-ejaculate stretch between them and then breaks. He grins as she reaches up to massage her jaw.
"Punished," Ben reminds her, moving around Sandra and down to the end of the table. He tosses the sheet to the floor and grabs her ass, dragging Lila, and a quick stepping Sandra, to the very edge of the table.
"Please," she whimpers, but he releases her ass and slips one thick finger up inside her cunt. For a moment the black finger and the yellow finger pump her in unison, the Sandra slips her finger out and starts circling Lila's clit. She moves her mouth from Lila's breast. Lips pursed to a little round O, Sandra surrounds Lila's clit as Ben slips a second finger, and then a third, into Lila's cunt. She groans as the walls of her vagina are stretched by his fingers opening and closing inside her.
Together the two young doctors work her pussy while she bucks and heaves against them. Lila needs more - more pressure, more pain, less emptiness.
Ben watches Lila's skin begin to glisten, her eye behind closed lids vibrate with need.
"Fuck it," he mumbles, pulling his fingers out abruptly and then driving his cock up inside her cunt. Sandra raises her head and resumes manually massaging Lila's clit, this time harder, punishing the tiny seed as it strains out of it's sheath.
"Harder," begs Lila, so Ben wedges his thick body between her legs, stretching them out on either side of him as he slams into her with even more force. Sandra tortures Lila's clit with one hand and slips the other down the front of her slacks, diddling them both at the same time.
And all this time, not one finger, not one protuberance of any sort is introduced into Lila's ass.
"Goddam you," she hisses as Ben throws his head back and rams his cock up the full length of her vagina, banging her uterus back deep inside her. "Goddam."
Sandra's mouth opens and she falls forward over Lila's breasts, gasping against the breastbone as she comes. Ben groans and freezes for an instant, raising Lila's ass off the table and then slamming it back down as he comes in long, jerking spurts.
Lila stares at the two young people as they hastily arrange their own clothes and examine each other for telltale signs. Sandra scrubs Lila thoroughly with a wet paper wipe and then washes her hands. Ben tosses the white sheet over Lila's tense, flushed body.
"You could have come if you'd wanted to." He brushes the damp blonde hair away from her face in a moment of tenderness. She turns her face from him. She'd hoped he'd understood, but after all, he had not.
"Don't tell on us lady," mumbles Sandra as she picks her stethoscope up off the floor and slings it around her neck.
"She won't," says Ben. "Not if she wants to see us again." With that, the two doctors leave Lila alone once more.

****

The Amorous Avatar

A few weeks ago I didn't know what the heck an avatar was, but after last night, when Portia da Costa and Madelynne Ellis hosted a chat event at the Romance Galleria, I not only know what one is, I've been one...or had one...or something.

It was fun! The choice of avatar was limited to gender, hair colour and colour of suit, so I wasn't able to deck mine out in silk and satin, and I never did get a background, so everything was very blue, but I managed to walk into the chatroom, eventually, and participate.

As a speedy typist I sometimes talk too much in chatrooms, much the same as I do when I'm out and about iin real life. It's a great way to socialize without leaving the comfort of your own home, isn't it?

There was a time, many years ago, now, that I was a chat addict. So I am leary of these kinds of things. I doubt I'd succumb, again, to the many charms of the chat room, but you never know. Still, this was as much networking as socializing and the women in the room were all interesting, the majority of them writers like me.

I also had the opportunity to chat with a gal who is actually READING WILD CARD. Felix Baron told me I'd enjoy 'meeting my readers' and I must say, I really did enjoy it, particularly as she's enjoying reading the book. Imagine, my words are making someone I've never met all hot and bothered. It's like magic, almost pornographic...I love it.

So many of my fellow LBs have books debuting shortly. Check out our blog, lustbites.blogger.com, (link on this site) to catch up with the new Black Lace releases. I'm trying to read a novel by each Lustie, and it's not only taking some time it's eating into my monthly budget! But I'd rather read than eat and I will say this, without qualification, every one of the women I've read is a terrific writer. I've written three reviews on Amazon.com, for Portia, Mathilde, and Alison, but I don't know if I can continue to do so if i'm going to gush over every book!

Next up I'm setting my sights on Madelynne and Kristina...I've read a few anthos now, including the new 'Sex In Public' so I'm not entirely unfamiliar with their work, but I WANT the experience of reading their novels. It's great to feel confident I'm in for a well-written, hot little ride...

Speaking of hot, it's hot as Hades right now in Toronto. The kind of weather where the a/c is on high and the city shimmers and everyone wears as little as possible. Toronto radiates. Even if it is, in truth, just plain 'too darn hot.'

Enjoy the summer. And don't forget, there's no better way to pass those sultry summer nights than reading a lusty little Black Lace novel.

Advice to the Young

My youngest child wants to be a writer. I suppose I should be pleased that she wants to follow in her mother's footsteps, but I'm more frightened than flattered.
She's a gifted girl - quite possibly brilliant. I had hoped she'd follow her first inclination - well, not her first, which was to be an astronaut, so, her second, which was to be a doctor.

What writer couldn't use a doctor in the family? A lawyer would be nice, too, but I wouldn't wish that staid occupation on either of my kids. But - a writer?

Don't get me wrong, I've encouraged both my girls to explore the wonderful, weird world of writing. I edited my eldest daughter's novel, a fantasy that takes place in another realm, far far away. My youngest and I co-wrote a teen comedy movie script. I have always encouraged them to express themselves. And I have noticed that my youngest child has a way with words.

Why, then, am I more dismayed than pleased by her latest career aspirations?

The life of a writer is frustrating and fraught with disappointments. When I started out I, like most young writers I think, imagined I would some day write a novel of great worth - a tome that would illuminate the world and its inhabitants AND make me pots of money.

I hadn't been writing all that long when I met up with a would be film director. He got me writing film shorts, and before I'd even graduated from university I was writing screenplays on spec AND getting paid for smaller scripts written for the National Film Board of Canada. In my first year out of university, I earned $17,000.00 as a freelance writer. And people said it would be difficult! My head swelled.

And then? And then the life of a writer got tough. Over the years I've worked in other areas, sometimes successfully, and sometimes spectacularly unsuccessfully.
The truth, which I came to not very long ago, is that I must be a writer. I have no choice.

And that's what I'll tell my daughter. If she must be a writer, then so be it. But if she can avoid it, she should. Because there is a real risk of becoming bitter - in fact, that's the basic assumption about the personality of the writer - bitter.
There's no knowing where the next dollar is coming from, no way to leave your work behind you when you finish for the day, no real 'holidays' to be taken, no pension plan or insurance benefits to protect an old writer, a sick writer...

But if she can't avoid it, well, she's in for a wild ride, one that will shape the way she sees the world, experiences life, interacts with other people, and colours her self-image. It can be fun, it is exhilerating, and sometimes it hurts, a lot.

Good luck to her, and all new writers, young or old. It's a scary job and no, not one I'd reccommend...but as for me, I love it.

Sage Vivant Interview Coming Right Up!

Hear ye, hear ye - This very Wednesday, May 23, I will be interviewing Sage Vivant, editrice, writer, creator of Custom Erotica Source, writer of 'Your Erotic Personality' and creator of the upcoming 'Sage's Advice'. The interview will be posted at LUSTBITES.

The interview is sassy, informative, fun and - you don't get this everyday, dahlings -includes an invitation to contact her for possible writing work!

PLEASE come visit LUSTBITES on WEDNESDAY, MAY 23rd. One lucky commentor will win a copy of her fascinating book, 'Your Erotic Personality'. YAY!

ENTER NOW!

The contest, readers, the contest. Go to the Lust Bites blog as fast as your mouse can get you there and enter our new contest. The prize is a tonne of terrific erotica, penned by the celebrated ladies of Lust Bites. As usual, it's easy to enter and the prize is well worth the effort. Good luck all!

Not to be Sexist - Here's Lonnie Getting Serviced in the Limo

From 'Wild Card' by Madeline Moore.(Scroll down to buy the book!)

After checking in on Victoria (masturbating in her hotel suite) and Penny (playing strip poker with Chief Nobatu in his hotel room) we rejoin Ray and Lonnie in the limo:

London on a sunny day became a blur of colour. The limousine was moving faster now, at Lonnie's request, and the breeze lifted Lonnie's heavy hair and made it stream behind her like a black silk scarf. They were on the way to the Tower of London.
To her disappointment, she'd discovered that, standing on the bench-seat as Ray had done, her head barely cleared the opening in the roof. Ray'd fixed that by lifting her and settling her on his shoulders with his face nestled between her thighs. Her perch wasn't exactly precarious but it wasn't all that stable, either. For some, the awkwardness might have been detrimental to pleasure but for Lonnie it only added to it.
'Trust me,' Ray had said as he pulled her into position. He was strong and his big hands were very capable, so Lonnie did as she was told. His hands supported her by cupping her bottom and his lips and tongue were inches from her the bare flesh of her pussy. The way her legs were spread made even Lonnie feel exposed – which was just the way she liked it best.
Ray was running his tongue along her slit, just barely parting the lips, and he'd been doing just that for a few minutes now. It seemed from the languid way he was lapping at her that he was perfectly comfortable with her perch and in no hurry.
Lonnie waved to the pedestrians on the street, then hastily put her both hands back on the roof of the limo, for balance. The roof was warm to her touch and the sun was hot on her face, but the greatest heat was right at the sweet spot where Ray now lingered. He circled the dainty little bud with his tongue and then sucked it into his mouth.
For a moment Lonnie simply felt relief. At last he was focusing on her clit. But almost instantly his steady attention to it became unbearably intense.
Lonnie wriggled a little, trying to escape the direct assault on her pleasure centre. Ray relented. Instead, he entered her with his tongue. It was a much more subtle feeling, allowing Lonnie to focus for a moment on what was going on around her, rather than what was being done to her.
There was a lady walking an obese dog, and a couple kissing at top of the steps down to the Underground. There was a man, staring at her, and another man who was too busy flirting with yet another man to pay her any mind. All around, people got on with their lives while she, in the centre, had a man at her centre making her crazy with lust.
He was back at her bud now, his tongue and mouth insisted on this exquisite torture.
'Ray,' she called down to him, 'I will come in seconds if you …'
Her words were lost to the wind and it didn't matter because she was already speeding past the point of no return. The first orgasm was always this way for Lonnie, quick and intense, and so as the contractions started to shudder through her she abandoned her protest and welcomed the pleasure. It soared through her body and she threw back her head, opened her mouth, and let it sing.
Just as well because when she opened her eyes Lonnie saw that they were approaching The Tower of London.
Ray put his hands under her arms and lifted her off his shoulders and down. She wrapped her arms around him and curled up small in his lap.
'You come big for such a little thing,' he teased.
'I come many times over, too,' she said.
'I can't wait for that,' he said. His hand wormed up her short skirt.
'Ray, I want to see the Tower. My friends are here. My minder is expecting me. Also I want to fuck in the Tower of London.'
'I don't know if we can do that. It's bound to be packed with tourists.'
'But that's what I want. I want us to fuck in the middle of a bunch of tourists. Right under the watchful eye of Lo Song. When you touch me it is the most exquisite torture, Ray, and it would be perfect to feel that way in the Tower. Because that is where people were tortured, once, right? You make me feel like a queen but I would just love to feel like a queen in a place where a queen was once imprisoned. Does that make sense?'
Lonnie looked up at him, her glance hopeful, yes, but also challenging. She wondered if he were man enough to do as she requested.
'I don't think it's a good idea. Why don't we go back to the hotel?'
Lonnie's eyes became dark little disappointed slits in her face and her mouth turned down at the corners.
Ray began to hedge. 'Maybe it won't be too busy,' he said. 'If we could find a spot where we aren't likely to be arrested, maybe we could pet a little. There are some very steep spiral staircases. You could go up ahead of me. I'd get a delightful view up your skirt or maybe "cop a feel." Wouldn't you like that?'
'Oh fine then. Let's go,' she muttered. She slid off his lap and began pulling on her thong. 'Driver,' she called. The partitions between them were still up. Lonnie poked and pushed at the console like an errant child until both partitions were lowered. She could feel Ray's irritation at her display of pique and it fuelled her own irritation. Why couldn't he just play along? 'Driver, pull over please.'
When the limousine had stopped she waited until Ray's door was open and he was standing on the sidewalk waiting to help her out. She slammed and locked it.
'Take me to the Plaza,' she barked, and the driver, obeying Ray's instructions to do as the lady wanted, pulled away.
Lonnie waved a cheery farewell to Ray as the car sped off without him.

Here's the Scene that Won the Magazine Award

In honour of my friend Olivia Knight's new website, I'm posting a portion of Chapter 11 of 'Wild Card'. This long chapter is divided into sections, so the reader goes from one main character to antother, to the third and fourth main characters, who are together. All of them are engaged in some kind of sexual act. Hot little chapter, that one, not easy to write.

Lonnie, the Hong Kong Bombshell who loves exhibitionism, and Ray, our handsome Canadian communist who works for the good of the people by day and seduces women by night, are touring London from a limosene.

Somewhere in here are the 200 words that won Scarlet Magazine's 'Best Oral Sex Scene' 2007:

Ray glanced to his left and right, taking in the view. From his position, feet wide apart on the upholstered leather bench-seat and his chest and head emerging from the open sunroof, he had a bird's eye view of London on a sunny day. If he looked straight down the view wasn't bad, either – Lonnie delicately lapping at his manhood like it was a Popsicle in danger of melting.
He wasn't in danger of melting at all, nor was he in danger of exploding. He felt he could endure this forever. Not that her ministrations weren't pleasurable. They were – excruciatingly so. It was just that everything was so terrific he was determined to do all he could to make it last.
There'd been that moment, after she'd arranged him the way she wanted him and then unzipped him, when he'd realized with a simultaneously gladdening of the heart and disappointment of the mind, that she was very talented at oral sex. Happily, Ray no longer took any notice of the dampening of his spirits that threatened to come with the reptilian understanding that she'd done this many times before. He chose to resolutely focus on the joy a man knows when he can tell from the confidence of the girl's seeking tongue and the gentle way she uses her lips to protect him from her teeth that he is in the hands – or mouth - of an expert.
She was doing that little 'play me like a flute' thing she'd done with her toes, in the restaurant, only this time she was using her fingers so it was that even more delicate and delightful. He felt a warming spasm in his gut and focused on the Palace again.
She was clever, this Bai Lon from Hong Kong. Somehow she'd guessed that he'd find the trappings of royalty a perfect juxtaposition to fellatio in a limousine. On such a beautiful day it was great to be in his shoes, the wind in his hair and his pants to his knees, enjoying Lonnie's touch and lips, as satiny smooth and flitting as the wings of a butterfly. Life couldn't get much better, and Ray was enough of a sensualist and self-disciplinarian to strive to make the moment last.
Interesting, the way once he'd actually emerged through the opening in the roof he found it more liberating than embarrassing. It was true, just as Lonnie had promised, that he felt safe and anonymous in a 'look at me I'm a tourist' sort of way. He was ignored for the most part, likely assumed to be drunk by anyone who bothered to assume anything. The limo was going fast enough for him to feel anonymous and slow enough to feel safe and there was the added bonus of seeing the landmarks of London at a more accelerated pace than a bus tour could possibly provide. He'd never actually bothered to tour London before.
Ray sighed as Lonnie stroked him with both hands. She'd lubed him with a cool, sweet smelling lotion from a bottle that she'd pulled from that trunk-like purse of hers. He made a mental note never to tease a woman about the size of her purse again.
They were passing the Palace gates now. Ray waved at the guardsmen. He wondered how many people waved at them every day, what it was like to stand there without acknowledging him, knowing that he was getting a fantastic blow job while they were left behind, eating his limo dust.
Ray shuddered as Lonnie stroked him for a dozen slow along-the-top-and-over-the-head-and-down-the-underside-of-the-shaft-and-then-back-again strokes. Fantastic. She was so good at everything so far that he felt like he was falling in love.
Ray looked down at her. The whole 'you're too big for delicate little me' gambit was oddly moving, given that there was very little chance it was true. She gazed up at him, her eyes wide and her lips pursed in a classic porn face. He might have to marry this girl if this kept up. 'Suck me,' he whispered.
Lonnie licked her lips and opened her mouth wide, in a perfect circle. Ray was sure he could fit in there. When she put her lips around him it was like being taken into a tunnel sheathed in wet red velvet. Her tongue was alive, tasting his maleness, teasing it like a tiny, dancing cave courtesan. Ray tilted his hips, slipping an inch further into her mouth. They moaned in unison and he tried to turn his attention back to the scenery.
They were past the Palace now. He couldn't concentrate on the view. Her mouth was luscious and her lips and tongue so soft against his rigidity. He felt his balls tighten. It would be so easy, so easy to let her carry him along in the stream of her passion. He remembered the little orgasm she'd elicited from him using only her feet. What would this one be like if he went with it, too, the way he'd gone with her foot play?
She moaned softly. The sound waves made his skin tingle. He was so sensitive to her every move it was if he were two men, one watching and one experiencing what the other watched.
Ray focused on a stand of trees. He tried to wonder what they were called. Plane trees? It was no use. Lonnie was holding him in her mouth now, laving the head of his cock with her lips and tongue.
He experimented, tilting his hips again to introduce another inch into her mouth. He didn't want to make her gag, not by any means, but he did want to see how much of him she could take, and it seemed she could take more than enough.
A kite was successfully launched in a nearby park and, as the speck of bright red rose into the sky, Ray allowed himself to relax. He quit tensing and let Lonnie's talented mouth envelop and release him while her fingers stroked him toward the coming climax.
She kept him afloat until the current of her passion carried him over the edge. He chose to look straight up, at the dazzling blue sky dotted with a few uncharacteristically fluffy white clouds and one tiny, soaring red kite.
'God!' he bellowed as the first spasm rocked him. He slapped him hands down on the roof of the limo to steady himself. She was sucking him dry, the bitch!
He wanted to tell the driver to go back so he could announce himself to the Palace as 'King Fuck!' but he didn't. Instead he pointed at the sky and yelled 'Fantastic!' so anyone looking at him, and people were looking at him, would think he was remarking on the blue sky or the red kite and not on the orgasm that was bolting through him in a rocking, rhythmical way that threatened to make him pass out.
He didn't, of course. When the spasms stopped he slid out of her mouth and down from the sunroof and onto the seat. He stretched out on it, zipping himself. 'You are so good, it's just, it's almost too much,' he moaned.
'It's fun, isn't it, to have people look at you when you come?'
'It was a thrill, I admit it.' He grinned at her. She kissed him on the mouth, letting his tongue part her lips and find hers. Their first kiss. It burned his mouth like candy cinnamon hearts.
'My turn,' said Lonnie.

Hurting Hugh

It's great to know the bitter tale I penned for Mitzi Szereto's upcoming anthology, 'Getting Even: Women's Tales of Revenge' will soon be available. The anthology is advertised, sans cover, on Amazon right now.

My story is called, 'Hurting Hugh'. Incredibly, although everything I heap on my poor heroine's head really happened to somebody, none of it actually happened to me.
Mitzi graciously asked for an edit and I cut a massive 1300 words. The story is journal style, that's my only excuse for submitting such a fat story in the first place. When I'd done the edit, I realized I'd cut all the stuff that had happened to me. So it goes.

I managed to keep the sardonic tone and 'artlessness'of the writing intact. This is a woman scorned in love for what she fears is the very last time. Her 'little pilot light of hope' has been extinguished, by the 'Hugh' of the title.

I'll admit that, although I don't kow Mitzi and had never submitted a story to her, I knew she'd put it in her book. That's how confident I was in its quality.

I'm working on a short story now, two in fact, both erotica. One was originally slated for an anthology that has been cancelled (it happens more than you might think) and the other I'll be submitting to Alison Tyler's adorable ABCD series, published by Cleis Press.

I'm expanding the first story, hoping to come up with a novella. As far as the second goes, I'm waiting to get the first four books, ABCD, which I ordered directly from Cleis Press, online. It's by far the simplest way to get the books and something I admit took me too long to figure out.

I'm about to start reading 'My Girlfriend Comes to the City and Beats Me Up.' If I like it I'll put the author's name in my next post...hohoho...I'm too lazy to go look for it at the moment.

We just finished watching "Running With Scissors'. It captured the coolness as well as zaniness of the book very well. Annette Benning was, as always, spectacular. Some of the darkest moments in the book were soft pedalled in the movie but all in all it was as shocking and as much fun as the book.

My next scheduled blog on Lust Bites is an interview with Sage Vivant on May 23rd. Sage has included stories of mine in two of her anthologies with Thunder's Mouth Press. My stories were published under the nom de plume Madeline de Chambrey.

'The Bearded Lady' in the anthology 'Amazon Women: Tall tales of strong Women'

'Love and Lies' is in the anthology 'Confessions'

I'm compiling a list of questions for Sage so if you've always wanted to ask her something about her work as a writer, editor, or on her website, Custom Erotica Source, drop me a line and I'll see if I can slip it into my interview.

love
Madeline

Work? Who, me?

For the last little while I've been soaring in virtual space, zooming in and out of Lust Bites, establishing a myspace presence (www.myspace.com/mymadmoore) posting my first Lust Bites blog (Is It Art?) which of course meant learning to import pictures, etc. and in general trying to get up to speed on establishing a presence on the net.

Still to come - a website of my own. Before that I must learn to establish links.
I suspect it's simple, but it's something I've yet to investigate. However, it's time to take a big breath and say, Whew. And after that, time to get back to work.

As a writer, I'm at home at the keyboard, thinkin' and typin' away. Felix Baron, an established erotica writer, does the same a room away. When the ideas are flowing and we're both cooking with gas, the apartment is silent except for the clicking of the keys as we tap out our tales. Once in awhile one of us will break for tea, or to take a shower, and then the sound of typing diminishes until that person zips back to the computer, hair still wet or cup of tea in hand, and the tap tap tapping is doubled again.

That's really the life of the writer. Joining Lust Bites has been a wonderful experience. The solitary life can become a little lonely, and as a Canadian writer of erotica there are no conferences or cocktail parties thrown by my publishers that I'm able to attend. It's a sorry state of affairs, really, and I admit to some envy when I read about my fellow members making plans to meet up at an event. I'd dearly love to meet face to face with all of them. But as a member of the Lust Bites blog I now have peers to talk to and it's fantastic. I love it.

Myspace, of course, is different. Everyone wants to be my friend! So I say, okay, let's be friends! I have no idea what, if anything, it all means. We'll see...

Eventually I'll take another break from writing and set up a website. But right now, I'm desperate to get back to cranking out the tales, full time. I will admit to being a total unitasker. It can be difficult for me, at times, but that's what I am. So I'm relieved to have everything established to my satisfaction, for now, and eager to hit the keys.

Coming up - I have a short story in Mitzi Szereto's anthology - Revenge, coming out later in 2007. My story is called 'Hurting Hugh'. It was tough to write because the character is an enraged, bitter woman who's little pilot light of hope has gone out. It's a helluva rant. I knew when I wrote it that Mitzi would buy it - I had that much confidence in it. I've written it for all women who feel poisoned by love.
That story will be published under my nom de plume, Madeline de Chambrey.

I have two novel proposals out right now and would like to get a third done and off to a romance publisher. So that's what I'll be doing for the next while. I'd also *love love love* to have a story in Alison Tyler's adorable ABC series. There are plenty of letters left in the series but I'm personally champing at the bit to get started... so to speak, silly!

This is the time of year when the tv/movie folk are sniffing around for new scripts and Felix and I have a pile of 'em, so we're both sending queries etc. to our contacts hoping to sell an option or be picked up to write an episode or two for tv.
Again, not easy in Canada but it can be done, we know as we've done it in the past.

So, folks, I'll be in an out of Lust Bites, posting my comments on the blogs as they appear, and I'll try to get in here from time to time, but if you're wondering where I am - I'm writing. And nothing makes me happier.

love
Madeline

Yes But Is It Art - my first Lust Bites Blog

This Friday, March 9, my first blog on the Lust Bites blogsite (Lustbites.blogspot.com) will be posted. I've been working feverishly on it, editing, adding photos (thanks Alison Tyler!) and generally trying to make sense of the ungainly topic I chose - 'Yes, but is it Art?'

I've really enjoyed being a new member of LB, but as of today we have an even newer member, Olivia Knight. So, once I've successfully posted my first blog, I'll happily lose myself in the gang of accomplished women known as the lusties.

Watch for my blog and, if you comment, do try to be kind, won't you?

Lust Bites

I've been invited to join the women writers of erotica blog, lust bites, right here at blogger.
I jumped at the chance, and now my book and I can be seen at the lust bites site. I'm still getting used to it all but I think it's great fun and may even help me sell more copies of WILD CARD.
Thanks to Portia de Costa for suggesting me to the group, and also for posting a message re: my Scarlet magazine win. It's wonderful to feel a part of something. Writing erotica in Canada can be a solitary experience. I guess the fact that Canadians like sex is a secret we keep very well.
Ah the secret life of Canucks.

Scarlet magazine winner for Best Oral Sex Scene

I awoke to a nice surprise this morning, I received an email telling me that a scene from 'Wild Card' had been chosen by Scarlet Magazine for 'best oral sex scene'. What fun! Other authors who won include Madelynne Ellis, Portia Da Costa, Mathilde Madden and Alison Tyler, so I'm in great company!

I broke a bone in my left hand in September so I haven't been working as much as I usually do and it's made me a little nutty. If I don't get to put my imagination to constructive use I can get weird, so it's been great to be back at work. I've had to tape my baby finger to the one next to it so I don't reach for the q or z and stress the bone - metacarpal bone, to be exact. I must say I'd not realised how much my typing speed has to do with my writing process.

But I'm happily pounding out the lurid prose again. My short story 'Hurting Hugh' will be appearing in an upcoming publication edited by Mitzi Szereto. I'll post the final title when I know it, but it's a book of Women's Revenge stories. It'll appear under my pen name Madeline de Chambrey.

The Erotic Authors Association is in flux as it passes from one administration to another, so I've been keeping an eye on what's happening there.

My first royalties cheque will arrive sometime in February. I'm excited by that - both by receving the money and finding out how many of my books have sold. It can be frustrating living in Canada and writing erotica as there are no Cdn presses producing erotica anthologies, and whenever there's an article about it in the local paper, writers from the UK and USA are quoted because the Canadian writers working in the genre aren't known here. I'm trying to change that!

The snow's falling as I write. These short, cold days of winter are perfect for staying in and hitting the keyboard, and that's what I intend to do. Wish me luck.

xoxoxo
Madeline