Hey Spanky Friends!!!
I’m baaaaaackkkk! Had a great time at Shasta Lake with the hubby. Lots of sleeping, sex, hikes and reading. And now I’ve hit the ground running and have written a bunch of spanking stories this week! Yay! My favorite!
Here’s a new story for you, soon to be found in…my ninth book, which will be out…um…as soon as I get the sixth, seventh and eighth books formatted. I’m so baaad! I have to put out the new books and I’ve been so slammed, I’ve had no time. Bad, bad, Michelle, needs a spanking to get more motivated. Hey, now there’s an idea. Except for me, spankings aren’t exactly punishment. Wheee!
Okay, enough of this, I have to get back to work and finish up my deadlines.
Hugs to you all and I’ll be back next week with more!
Michelle
Wham! Joey pounded the last nail in the roof. Dizzy and pouring with sweat, she was completely relieved to be done. Nice sunny days were perfect for sunbathing, but not re-roofing your house.
She stood, eager to stretch out her tired back. Her world went gray. White lights streaked her vision. The roof zoomed up at her and smacked her on the side.
Sky, roof, sky, roof. She rolled over and over, down the slanted roof.
“Oh, God! No!” came a thunderous roar from down below her somewhere.
Snap out of it! You’re gonna die!
At the edge of the roof, she snapped into consciousness. As she fell off, she reached out and grabbed the gutter, slicing her right hand. Her body swung down and she slammed into the ladder, sending it toppling over.
No! She gripped the rain gutter with everything she had. Her body swung slowly to a stop. Her right hand hurt like hell and blood dripped down her arm.
Tink! She dropped a bit. A nail came out of the gutter! No! Tink! Tink! Tink!
Adrenaline slammed her system. She was gonna die!
The ladder appeared next to her. What the hell?
“Can you get on it?” came an unfamiliar, yet very deep and masculine voice.
She reached out with her leg and could just touch it. “I’m trying, can you move it closer?”
“There’s uneven pavement down below.”
“Damn.”
“I’ll be right there!” Mystery Man said.
The ladder moved with someone’s weight. Her arms were searing in agony and her right hand blazed with pain.
A very long and strong arm wrapped around her middle. “Keep reaching, that’s right. Good, good. I’ve got you. On a count of three. One, two, three!”
She pulled herself over; the guy’s arm was like a steel band around her. A moment later, she was safely balanced on the ladder. And sharing it with a very large man. She couldn’t get a good look at him because she was more focused on the staying on the ladder, but she could tell he was a big ‘un.
“Okay now, you stay there, I’m going to carefully work my way back down,” he said.
“Okay, thanks.”
“You okay? Still dizzy?”
“Yeah, but I’m okay. I can make it.”
“Great.”
It wasn’t easy climbing down with a hurt hand, but she was strong and finally stepped off the ladder and onto the ground.
“Damn, woman. That was crazy. Are you okay?”
She looked up into a pair of the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. The man was gorgeous. Super tall, medium length soft brown hair that fell in wisps around his ears, aquiline nose, full sensual lips, prominent jaw. So hot. Around her age, late thirties, early forties.
He smiled. “Are you okay?”
The pain in her hand shook her out of the hormonal fog. She glanced down at it and winced. An ugly three-inch gash sliced across her palm. Still bleeding pretty good.
“My hand got sliced.”
He took her hand in his and grimaced. “You need to see a doctor.”
“Oh, man, Linda is gonna yell at me.” She sighed heavily.
“Who’s Linda?”
“My doctor. Buddy from high school. Has a practice down on Mission. What time is it?”
“Around two.”
“Saturdays she’s there until three. Might just make it. Well, thanks… uh.”
“Bryan Snow.”
“I’m Joey Dupree.”
“I know. I read your column.”
“Oh. Oh. Uh, oh.” She checked his expression carefully. “You don’t seem upset.”
“No, I think you’re funny.”
Relief washed through her. “Good. Some people in this town want my column cancelled.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I talk about stuff they don’t think should be talked about. And I’m a screaming liberal.”
He laughed. “You are that. Come on, I’m taking you to the doctor.”
“I can drive myself.”
“With that hand? No.” He gestured across the street. “Come on, we’ll take my car.”
As they walked to his car, she glanced up at him. “So where did you come from? Just out rescuing damsels in distress?”
“No, I live here.” He pointed at the house directly across the street from hers.
“You what? I thought a computer guy bought it.”
“He did. I’m a computer guy.”
“You? But you’re tall and hunky… sorry.”
His grin nearly split his face. “I get that a lot.”
Bubbly energy welled up within her. A hunk! Right across the street! Sweet! “Well, welcome to Briarwood.”
“Thanks,” he said as they reached his car. “Does your friend work at the Creekside Clinic?”
“Yep.”
“I know where it is. Get in.”
She stopped at the passenger side door. “Wait. I don’t want to bleed all over your car.”
He shook his head and chuckled. “Got some tissue in the car. Get in.”
“For crying out loud, what the hell did you do to yourself this time?” Dr. Linda Muller said, her mouth agape. She frowned at Joey’s palm. “Look at that! You just healed, you idiot! Come on,” she said, pulling her into the examining room. “Gina?” she called out to her nurse. “I need the succors and lidocaine. Again.” She nodded over at Bryan. “Hey you, tall cute and handsome. You want to come in and watch your damsel get stitched? Boring out there in the waiting room with the two-year-old magazines. Unless you want to read about George Bush’s cabinet appointees.”
Bryan laughed and followed the two women inside.
Joey hopped up on the table in her usual spot, Bryan took a chair in the corner.
Linda frowned at her. “So what’d you do this time?”
Joey briefly gave her the story.
Linda smacked her on the shoulder. “Roofing on a hot day? Are you this stupid?”
“I started when it was cool. I just wanted to finish.”
“Well, it almost finished you. Christ, I suppose I should be happy I’m not shoveling your remains into a garbage can. You almost fell off your roof? Just don’t tell me anymore. Okay? Just come in here and lie to me. I don’t want to know how bad it could have been. Christ. You are a problem child.”
“Tell me about it.”
Linda jerked her head towards Bryan. “So where’d you find him?”
Bryan laughed. “I moved in across the street from Miss Joey.”
“That’s lucky. Oh, you’re probably married.”
Joey tried not to look at Bryan. But she felt her ear travel all the way over to stop inches in front of his mouth.
“No. Divorced three years ago. Haven’t found anyone special yet.”
Joey’s mood soared.
Linda brightened. “Hey, Joey, look, single attractive man across the street. How lucky is that?”
Joey’s face went so hot it felt radioactive. “Linda, will you not?” Don’t blow it for me!
“Wow, look at that color. See that Bryan? She only does that when she likes someone. You might have a chance at her.”
Joey glowered at her. “Will you please shut up and OW!” Linda injected the lidocaine.
Linda pursed her lips at her and moved the needle to another location. “You are such a wuss.” She turned to Bryan, who couldn’t stop laughing. “She’s such a wuss.”
“Damn that hurts, you butcher!”
“Me the butcher? You’re the one who routinely chops miscellaneous parts off your body.”
“Only the tip of that one finger, my baby toe and that chunk out of my shoulder.”
“What about that earlobe?”
Joey rubbed her lumpy earlobe. “You sewed it back on.”
“Yeah and your shoulder isn’t looking so bad these days.”
Bryan couldn’t believe this whole scene. He’d been staring at Joey’s gorgeous buff shoulders since he moved in, but had never seen them close up. He’d just noticed the seven-inch-long scar across her left shoulder. He couldn’t believe she was as wild in person as she was in her column. What a woman. Needed some impulse control, but wow, what a hot girl. He loved her tomboyish bravado, her sweet smile, that sparkling brown gaze. And watching her banter with her friend sealed the deal. He wanted her. And he wanted her badly.
He’d been watching her ever since he moved in. He worked mainly at home and faced the street when he worked on his computer. Joey seemed to be involved in a never-ending stream of projects. She was either hammering, sawing or painting. Or pulling weeds, digging holes or planting in her garden. Limitless energy.
What he really liked was that she worked in a tight tank top and blue jeans shorts, showing off her pert breasts, muscular arms and long buff legs. No make-up, but she was tanned from being outdoors. She had a natural, earthy, easy beauty. Just his type.
He’d been trying to figure out a way to strike up a conversation with her, but had been so busy with the move-in and deadlines that he hadn’t yet found the time.
Joey nodded at him. “So Bryan, you saw me fall or what?”
“Yeah,” he said, trying to sound casual. I was staring at you trying to figure out a way to talk to you. “I was getting something out of my car and happened to look up.”
She nodded and checked out her wound as Linda sewed it up. “Well, thank bloody God. Guess I should have been a bit more careful.”
“You guess?” Bryan and Linda asked in incredulous tones.
She grinned sheepishly. She was so adorable! How to ask her out? Ahh, yes, under the guise of caretaking. He’d invite her over for dinner. Because she surely couldn’t cook for herself. No! He’d take her out. That lovely little bistro downtown.
Of course, at his house, his bed was only feet away. Take it easy, man. Don’t rush it. Don’t make her think you only want her for a quick roll in the hay. Bistro would be better.
“So how did you get that scar on your shoulder?” he asked.
She glanced down at it. “Chainsaw.”
Linda laughed. “Oh, come on, tell him the whole story.”
“What? I was cutting a branch off a tree and the damn thing slipped.”
“What she isn’t saying is that she was twenty feet up the goddamned tree.”
Bryan nearly jumped out of his skin. “What? You did what?”
Linda chuckled. “Oh, this one is totally brainless at times.”
Joey stuck out her chin defiantly. “I am not. Well, partially. The damn branch was bugging me. I could see it out of my bedroom window, this ugly broken half-dead thing. If it had come down it could have wasted the cat. He sleeps under that tree all the time.”
“Ever heard of impulse control?” Bryan asked.
Linda burst out laughing. “I wrote her a prescription for it, but she won’t take her pills.”
“It’s no big deal,” Joey said in a small voice.
If this woman became his, there was no way he’d let her do crazy things. Maybe he’d come along at the right time. Maybe he was just what she needed. He knew a great tried and true method of getting through to accident-prone troublemakers. Right over his knee. And man, Joey had one, nice spankable ass.
©2010, Michelle Carlyle
Friday, September 24, 2010
Friday, September 10, 2010
Her Secret Life, Conclusion
Hey Spanko Friends!
Gotta make this short. Been typing so much, my hands are killing me. I’ve written 10 spanking stories in the past two weeks, plus working on my novels. Whew! And I’m throwing myself a birthday party tonight and I have to run around to Costco and clean the house and all that garbage. Actually, I’m considering skipping the vacuuming because I expect the floor will take a beating. And I don’t think anyone will notice the dirt. Especially since most of the guests are middle-aged. Heee!
I hope you have an awesome week! I’m going to be on vacation next week and not sure if I have Internet access where I’ll be. If I do, I will post, but if I don’t, know I’m suffering by a lake, reading and sipping on fruity drinks. Poor me. I can’t wait! Been looking forward to getting some alone time with the Hubby. We’re going alone this year so we should have a lot of time for sex. We’d better!
Have a great one! I’ll be back with a new story either next week or the week afterwards!
Hugs to you all,
Michelle
Gary sat down, yanked her across his lap and she knew what was coming next.
He pulled up her skirt, pulled down her undies and got her settled over his knee.
“Have you told me the truth?” A leading question.
“Yes.”
He whacked her one; she nearly jumped out of her skin.
“What about that story about when you were camping in the girl scouts and you made out with that boy scout and got in trouble?”
“Truth, well, partial truth. What I didn’t tell you was that I was camping with my family, snuck out of my tent and hunted down the boy scouts.”
Whack! “OW!”
“Okay, that’s funny, but honey, you have lied your head off to me.”
“I mainly omitted the truth or grunted when you asked me questions. I let you draw your own conclusions. I don’t like lying.”
Whack!
“I don’t! I’m not lying about lying!”
Whack! “You see my problem. How am I to believe anything you tell me now?”
“That’s the problem with lying. Erodes trust.”
Suddenly, he let loose with a flurry of swats. Rapid fire spanking. He was hitting hard, too. The man was clearly angry. And she didn’t blame him.
As she lay there, crying, some part of her took a back seat to the event. A man was spanking her. Not because he was mean, because she’d been mean to him. She’d never really thought about her penchant for untruths, she hadn’t realized it, but she’d never been in love before.
But she had no idea what to do to regain his trust. Stop lying, that was easy. But how was she supposed to repair the damage she’d caused? She’d never had to worry about this kind of stuff before. It was so shocking. All this love and trust and commitment stuff.
The searing pain in her rear finally distracted her enough to get her thoughts away from self-reflection and back to this very strong, domineering man spanking her. She used to think spanking was kind of fun. Not anymore. Even though, for some reason, this whole disciplinarian thing Gary had going on was a huge turn on. Despite the pain.
He seemed to beating a rhythm into her ass. Almost a staccato drum performance. She wished she could appreciate it more, but he was killing her butt. She had no idea how she would make it through the dinner that evening.
After her throat was raw from yelling and her ass felt like the skin had been burned off, he stopped.
“You know what will happen if I catch you in another lie?”
“Yes,” she croaked.
“I’m buying a paddle in the Castro before I leave the City. You get me?”
“Got you. Ow.”
“I hope it hurts. Can’t compare to what you did to me.”
“I think you came close.”
He pulled her up and sat her next to him. Which hurt.
He got up and stood in front of her. He reached down, pulled off her stocking and undies and then undid his own pants.
“I’ve got a different kind of punishment for you,” he said with a deadly cool look on his face. A thrill went through her.
He reached down, took her by the hips and threw her back on the bed. He was undressed in two seconds flat with his face buried between her legs. All she could do was scream.
After more orgasms than she could count, he was on his knees and inside her. She cried out in ecstasy at the feel of him.
The man proceeded to bonk the hell out of her. He rammed her straight on for a time, then lifted one of her legs up and came at her from a different angle. The look in his eye as he gazed down at her didn’t waver. It was dark, this energy of his, predatory and dominating. He was both punishing her and pleasuring her. He lifted her off the bed and into the air, doing target practice on her g-spot. Then he flipped her onto her knees and did her from behind. She’d never had more orgasms in her life.
He grabbed her hips and thrust into with a ceaseless motion. He let go with one hand and began spanking her in time with his thrusts. She went over the edge, bellowing her fool head off, coming like she’d never come before. This was insane sex. Mind-blowing.
Right after she’d come, he withdrew, flipped her onto her back, grabbed her wrists, held them over her head and drove into her. A feral intensity in his dark gaze, the man launched her into the most sublime rapture she’d ever experienced. All she wanted to do was to spend her lifetime making love to him. Being his. Doing whatever would please him the most. She felt like she’d just become enslaved to him.
When he finally allowed himself release, he growled like an animal which grew into a near roaring as he exploded inside her. His absolute animal ferocity shot her out into the outer reaches of sexual pleasure. She reached the pinnacle. This man was it. He was her sex god.
And boy was she going to make some money off this one—whoo-hoo, weren’t her readers going to love this!
Afterwards, she lay exhausted, both from the spanking and the sex (not to mention the keynote speech) completely overwhelmed emotionally and physically.
“So is that gonna end up in a book?” he asked.
She burst out laughing. Had he read her mind?
“Probably,” she admitted.
“You little bitch. Damn. An erotica writer. You had to be an erotica writer.”
“Most guys dig erotica.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it. It just blows my mind that my sweet little girl is a pot-smoking erotica writer. Who chased boy scouts. I thought I knew you.”
“You do. None of that stuff really matters. It’s not like I’m going to be any different with you. You’ll just know what I’m up to. Oh, and I do work at home, I don’t commute.”
“Turn over.”
“No, honey, you killed my ass.”
“I know,” he said and grinned. “It felt really good to me.”
“Not to me.”
“Good. Okay, okay, a reprieve. But I owe you one more. With a paddle. When you heal up. I’m gonna tie you to a chair, bend you over as far as I can make you, then I’m gonna spank you until you’re black and blue. And that, I hope will be the last time I ever have to punish you for real.”
“For real?”
“Oh, maybe there were a few things I forgot to tell you,” he said with a sly smile on his handsome face. “But now that I know you’re an erotica writer, watch out, little girl. This man’s got some kink in him.”
“Uh, oh.” A thrill went through her.
“I was going to work you into some of my… uh, favorites. But now? I’m just going to let loose on you. You want inspiration for those books? Boy, honey, are you going to get it.”
The look in his eye made her want to come all by itself.
“Oh, dear.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not too kinky, but I love to spank little girls more than anything. I like to tie them up, I like to make them pay.”
She was nearly speechless with desire. “Uh, oh.”
“Now what you’ve experienced from me are punishment spankings, which should be no fun at all.”
“They aren’t.”
“You haven’t felt my fun spankings yet. They’ll toast that little ass of yours, good, but they won’t leave marks, nor are they designed to hurt you. Much.”
“Uh, oh.”
“But I have a whole leather bondage kit with your name on it. A really nice cat o’ nine-tails—“
She gasped. He smiled.
“And a whole collection of nice leather paddles. But those are all for fun. That’s why I’m picking up a nice thick wooden paddle with air holes for your punishment. My hand is killing me. I don’t want to feel pain, I want you to feel pain when you’ve been bad.”
“Oh, dear.”
“Yeah. Oh, dear.” He brought her to him and kissed her roughly. “You got a lot of payin’ to do for your crimes, honey. A lot.” He kissed her again.
When he pulled away, she leapt on top of him and attacked him. She rode him into a fiery orgasm, they both growled loudly when they came together.
As she lay in his arms afterwards, he asked, “What time is your dinner?”
“Huh? Oh, dinner. Man, I have no brains left. You literally porked my brains out.”
He laughed.
“Dinner? Um. Seven. Awards are at eight.”
“You think you’ll win?”
“I hope so. Will you come with me?”
“I don’t have anything to wear.”
“This is not very formal. People will be wearing some…”
“Okay, yeah, I’m going,” he said enthusiastically.
She laughed. “I need a shower.”
“So do I.”
“You come in there and we’ll never get to the dinner.”
“Sure we will.”
After amazing sex in the shower, Heather got ready for the dinner. She put on her make-up and changed into a very sexy red dress. When she walked out into the room she found Gary buried in her book.
“Oh, dear,” she said.
He sent her a very predatory, smoldering look. “Oh, honey,” he said in a low tone. “Are you inspiring. This is going to be fun.” He returned to the book.
“Uh, oh. I think I’ve created a monster. I thought you were a goody two shoes.”
He rested his fiery gaze on her. “Think again.”
She got wet.
Later, at dinner, they were seated at a table of eight, two friends and a few strangers.
Gary appeared to be having a good time. He was relaxed, he engaged in the conversations and was sweet to her. But there was a look in his eye that would appear from time to time. It was an evil kind of a look.
The awards ceremony began. As the lights dimmed in the audience, Heather felt Gary’s hand on her thigh. She looked over at him, he watched the stage. She turned to the stage; he slipped his hand under her skirt. Since she couldn’t protest or it would attract attention, she was helpless. He slid his finger under her panties and slipped it inside her. Since this was all under the table, no one could see. He began fingering her.
Heather had never been more turned on in her life. He slipped his finger out, slid it up and found her engorged bud. She nearly cried out. She grabbed her program and fanned herself.
The MC began calling out names of candidates for the award for best erotic sci-fi, one of the categories for which Heather was nominated. But she could barely hear the announcer over the blood rushing in her ears. She stifled a scream as Gary increased his pace with his finger.
Just as she was ready to come, the MC announced the winner. Lissa Dubois.
At this point, Heather’s brain didn’t really register the name. She was too focused on coming. She screamed “Yes!” without even realizing it. But the “yes” sounded exactly like what it was—a cry of an orgasm. Her response brought down the house.
It took her a good minute to figure out what was happening. Thankfully, she was excellent at covering. Gary withdrew his hand, right as she stood up and she waved to everyone like she’d just copped off a good joke.
She couldn’t believe she had to be lucid after that hellacious orgasm. She would kill him later for that.
She accepted the award and then realized she had to make a speech.
“I’d like to thank the academy and all the little people,” she began. Laughs. “No, really, this is quite an honor and I hope that all of you go home and have great orgasms tonight.”
Cheers.
The MC, a fellow writer named Cheryl Marie, said, “Thanks, Lissa, but what we all want to know is if that hot red-haired guy that’s with you tonight was the inspiration for Toby in your book.”
The audience whooped and hollered.
“Uh… Well, you caught me. Of course, he was. Everyone, this is my boyfriend, Gary. Who is not a cop, by the way.”
The all applauded. Gary, who looked totally embarrassed, waved at everyone.
The MC said, “Stand up, Gary, so these people over here can see you,”
Gary reluctantly stood.
“—And so the people behind you can check out that fine ass of yours.”
Heather smacked Cheryl on the arm.
“We want to hear from the man,” Cheryl said. “Bob, hand him the roving microphone.”
Heather watched horrified as poor Gary was forced to take a microphone.
“Hey folks. Actually, I’m glad you handed me this. Gives me a great opportunity to say something about my girlfriend. And to my girlfriend. Not only is she a great writer, she’s a wonderful person. So wonderful, I’d like to ask her this question.”
“Uh, oh,” Lissa said into her mike. The audience laughed.
“As all of you know, Lissa is her pen name and I can’t say this using her pen name. So, for those of you who don’t know, I’m going to call her by her real name.”
“Oh, man, I’m outed,” Heather cracked.
“Heather, honey, not only am I happy to be that man in those books for you…”
People hooted.
“I want to be that man forever. Heather, will you marry me?”
A hushed silence fell over the crowd. Heather was stunned. Tears stung her eyes.
“Uh…”
“Folks, we’ve got tears, this is looking good,” Cheryl announced.
“Really?” Heather asked.
“Really honey, will you be my wife?”
“Uh, yeah. I mean, hell yeah. Really? Wow! I’m gonna be married!”
The crowed erupted. Heather jumped off the stage, raced to Gary and leapt into his arms.
“Hey, Lissa, you forgot your award!” the MC said.
Heather grabbed the mike from Gary. “I don’t need it! I got all the award I need tonight. I won the best prize ever! I love you, honey,” she said to Gary, which was carried by the mike.
Gary said, “I love you too, baby.” Into the mike he said, “Folks get ready, I think her next book is going to be about a fantastic honeymoon in Hawaii.”
The crowd’s roar was deafening.
© 2010 Michelle Carlyle
Gotta make this short. Been typing so much, my hands are killing me. I’ve written 10 spanking stories in the past two weeks, plus working on my novels. Whew! And I’m throwing myself a birthday party tonight and I have to run around to Costco and clean the house and all that garbage. Actually, I’m considering skipping the vacuuming because I expect the floor will take a beating. And I don’t think anyone will notice the dirt. Especially since most of the guests are middle-aged. Heee!
I hope you have an awesome week! I’m going to be on vacation next week and not sure if I have Internet access where I’ll be. If I do, I will post, but if I don’t, know I’m suffering by a lake, reading and sipping on fruity drinks. Poor me. I can’t wait! Been looking forward to getting some alone time with the Hubby. We’re going alone this year so we should have a lot of time for sex. We’d better!
Have a great one! I’ll be back with a new story either next week or the week afterwards!
Hugs to you all,
Michelle
Gary sat down, yanked her across his lap and she knew what was coming next.
He pulled up her skirt, pulled down her undies and got her settled over his knee.
“Have you told me the truth?” A leading question.
“Yes.”
He whacked her one; she nearly jumped out of her skin.
“What about that story about when you were camping in the girl scouts and you made out with that boy scout and got in trouble?”
“Truth, well, partial truth. What I didn’t tell you was that I was camping with my family, snuck out of my tent and hunted down the boy scouts.”
Whack! “OW!”
“Okay, that’s funny, but honey, you have lied your head off to me.”
“I mainly omitted the truth or grunted when you asked me questions. I let you draw your own conclusions. I don’t like lying.”
Whack!
“I don’t! I’m not lying about lying!”
Whack! “You see my problem. How am I to believe anything you tell me now?”
“That’s the problem with lying. Erodes trust.”
Suddenly, he let loose with a flurry of swats. Rapid fire spanking. He was hitting hard, too. The man was clearly angry. And she didn’t blame him.
As she lay there, crying, some part of her took a back seat to the event. A man was spanking her. Not because he was mean, because she’d been mean to him. She’d never really thought about her penchant for untruths, she hadn’t realized it, but she’d never been in love before.
But she had no idea what to do to regain his trust. Stop lying, that was easy. But how was she supposed to repair the damage she’d caused? She’d never had to worry about this kind of stuff before. It was so shocking. All this love and trust and commitment stuff.
The searing pain in her rear finally distracted her enough to get her thoughts away from self-reflection and back to this very strong, domineering man spanking her. She used to think spanking was kind of fun. Not anymore. Even though, for some reason, this whole disciplinarian thing Gary had going on was a huge turn on. Despite the pain.
He seemed to beating a rhythm into her ass. Almost a staccato drum performance. She wished she could appreciate it more, but he was killing her butt. She had no idea how she would make it through the dinner that evening.
After her throat was raw from yelling and her ass felt like the skin had been burned off, he stopped.
“You know what will happen if I catch you in another lie?”
“Yes,” she croaked.
“I’m buying a paddle in the Castro before I leave the City. You get me?”
“Got you. Ow.”
“I hope it hurts. Can’t compare to what you did to me.”
“I think you came close.”
He pulled her up and sat her next to him. Which hurt.
He got up and stood in front of her. He reached down, pulled off her stocking and undies and then undid his own pants.
“I’ve got a different kind of punishment for you,” he said with a deadly cool look on his face. A thrill went through her.
He reached down, took her by the hips and threw her back on the bed. He was undressed in two seconds flat with his face buried between her legs. All she could do was scream.
After more orgasms than she could count, he was on his knees and inside her. She cried out in ecstasy at the feel of him.
The man proceeded to bonk the hell out of her. He rammed her straight on for a time, then lifted one of her legs up and came at her from a different angle. The look in his eye as he gazed down at her didn’t waver. It was dark, this energy of his, predatory and dominating. He was both punishing her and pleasuring her. He lifted her off the bed and into the air, doing target practice on her g-spot. Then he flipped her onto her knees and did her from behind. She’d never had more orgasms in her life.
He grabbed her hips and thrust into with a ceaseless motion. He let go with one hand and began spanking her in time with his thrusts. She went over the edge, bellowing her fool head off, coming like she’d never come before. This was insane sex. Mind-blowing.
Right after she’d come, he withdrew, flipped her onto her back, grabbed her wrists, held them over her head and drove into her. A feral intensity in his dark gaze, the man launched her into the most sublime rapture she’d ever experienced. All she wanted to do was to spend her lifetime making love to him. Being his. Doing whatever would please him the most. She felt like she’d just become enslaved to him.
When he finally allowed himself release, he growled like an animal which grew into a near roaring as he exploded inside her. His absolute animal ferocity shot her out into the outer reaches of sexual pleasure. She reached the pinnacle. This man was it. He was her sex god.
And boy was she going to make some money off this one—whoo-hoo, weren’t her readers going to love this!
Afterwards, she lay exhausted, both from the spanking and the sex (not to mention the keynote speech) completely overwhelmed emotionally and physically.
“So is that gonna end up in a book?” he asked.
She burst out laughing. Had he read her mind?
“Probably,” she admitted.
“You little bitch. Damn. An erotica writer. You had to be an erotica writer.”
“Most guys dig erotica.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t like it. It just blows my mind that my sweet little girl is a pot-smoking erotica writer. Who chased boy scouts. I thought I knew you.”
“You do. None of that stuff really matters. It’s not like I’m going to be any different with you. You’ll just know what I’m up to. Oh, and I do work at home, I don’t commute.”
“Turn over.”
“No, honey, you killed my ass.”
“I know,” he said and grinned. “It felt really good to me.”
“Not to me.”
“Good. Okay, okay, a reprieve. But I owe you one more. With a paddle. When you heal up. I’m gonna tie you to a chair, bend you over as far as I can make you, then I’m gonna spank you until you’re black and blue. And that, I hope will be the last time I ever have to punish you for real.”
“For real?”
“Oh, maybe there were a few things I forgot to tell you,” he said with a sly smile on his handsome face. “But now that I know you’re an erotica writer, watch out, little girl. This man’s got some kink in him.”
“Uh, oh.” A thrill went through her.
“I was going to work you into some of my… uh, favorites. But now? I’m just going to let loose on you. You want inspiration for those books? Boy, honey, are you going to get it.”
The look in his eye made her want to come all by itself.
“Oh, dear.”
“Don’t worry, I’m not too kinky, but I love to spank little girls more than anything. I like to tie them up, I like to make them pay.”
She was nearly speechless with desire. “Uh, oh.”
“Now what you’ve experienced from me are punishment spankings, which should be no fun at all.”
“They aren’t.”
“You haven’t felt my fun spankings yet. They’ll toast that little ass of yours, good, but they won’t leave marks, nor are they designed to hurt you. Much.”
“Uh, oh.”
“But I have a whole leather bondage kit with your name on it. A really nice cat o’ nine-tails—“
She gasped. He smiled.
“And a whole collection of nice leather paddles. But those are all for fun. That’s why I’m picking up a nice thick wooden paddle with air holes for your punishment. My hand is killing me. I don’t want to feel pain, I want you to feel pain when you’ve been bad.”
“Oh, dear.”
“Yeah. Oh, dear.” He brought her to him and kissed her roughly. “You got a lot of payin’ to do for your crimes, honey. A lot.” He kissed her again.
When he pulled away, she leapt on top of him and attacked him. She rode him into a fiery orgasm, they both growled loudly when they came together.
As she lay in his arms afterwards, he asked, “What time is your dinner?”
“Huh? Oh, dinner. Man, I have no brains left. You literally porked my brains out.”
He laughed.
“Dinner? Um. Seven. Awards are at eight.”
“You think you’ll win?”
“I hope so. Will you come with me?”
“I don’t have anything to wear.”
“This is not very formal. People will be wearing some…”
“Okay, yeah, I’m going,” he said enthusiastically.
She laughed. “I need a shower.”
“So do I.”
“You come in there and we’ll never get to the dinner.”
“Sure we will.”
After amazing sex in the shower, Heather got ready for the dinner. She put on her make-up and changed into a very sexy red dress. When she walked out into the room she found Gary buried in her book.
“Oh, dear,” she said.
He sent her a very predatory, smoldering look. “Oh, honey,” he said in a low tone. “Are you inspiring. This is going to be fun.” He returned to the book.
“Uh, oh. I think I’ve created a monster. I thought you were a goody two shoes.”
He rested his fiery gaze on her. “Think again.”
She got wet.
Later, at dinner, they were seated at a table of eight, two friends and a few strangers.
Gary appeared to be having a good time. He was relaxed, he engaged in the conversations and was sweet to her. But there was a look in his eye that would appear from time to time. It was an evil kind of a look.
The awards ceremony began. As the lights dimmed in the audience, Heather felt Gary’s hand on her thigh. She looked over at him, he watched the stage. She turned to the stage; he slipped his hand under her skirt. Since she couldn’t protest or it would attract attention, she was helpless. He slid his finger under her panties and slipped it inside her. Since this was all under the table, no one could see. He began fingering her.
Heather had never been more turned on in her life. He slipped his finger out, slid it up and found her engorged bud. She nearly cried out. She grabbed her program and fanned herself.
The MC began calling out names of candidates for the award for best erotic sci-fi, one of the categories for which Heather was nominated. But she could barely hear the announcer over the blood rushing in her ears. She stifled a scream as Gary increased his pace with his finger.
Just as she was ready to come, the MC announced the winner. Lissa Dubois.
At this point, Heather’s brain didn’t really register the name. She was too focused on coming. She screamed “Yes!” without even realizing it. But the “yes” sounded exactly like what it was—a cry of an orgasm. Her response brought down the house.
It took her a good minute to figure out what was happening. Thankfully, she was excellent at covering. Gary withdrew his hand, right as she stood up and she waved to everyone like she’d just copped off a good joke.
She couldn’t believe she had to be lucid after that hellacious orgasm. She would kill him later for that.
She accepted the award and then realized she had to make a speech.
“I’d like to thank the academy and all the little people,” she began. Laughs. “No, really, this is quite an honor and I hope that all of you go home and have great orgasms tonight.”
Cheers.
The MC, a fellow writer named Cheryl Marie, said, “Thanks, Lissa, but what we all want to know is if that hot red-haired guy that’s with you tonight was the inspiration for Toby in your book.”
The audience whooped and hollered.
“Uh… Well, you caught me. Of course, he was. Everyone, this is my boyfriend, Gary. Who is not a cop, by the way.”
The all applauded. Gary, who looked totally embarrassed, waved at everyone.
The MC said, “Stand up, Gary, so these people over here can see you,”
Gary reluctantly stood.
“—And so the people behind you can check out that fine ass of yours.”
Heather smacked Cheryl on the arm.
“We want to hear from the man,” Cheryl said. “Bob, hand him the roving microphone.”
Heather watched horrified as poor Gary was forced to take a microphone.
“Hey folks. Actually, I’m glad you handed me this. Gives me a great opportunity to say something about my girlfriend. And to my girlfriend. Not only is she a great writer, she’s a wonderful person. So wonderful, I’d like to ask her this question.”
“Uh, oh,” Lissa said into her mike. The audience laughed.
“As all of you know, Lissa is her pen name and I can’t say this using her pen name. So, for those of you who don’t know, I’m going to call her by her real name.”
“Oh, man, I’m outed,” Heather cracked.
“Heather, honey, not only am I happy to be that man in those books for you…”
People hooted.
“I want to be that man forever. Heather, will you marry me?”
A hushed silence fell over the crowd. Heather was stunned. Tears stung her eyes.
“Uh…”
“Folks, we’ve got tears, this is looking good,” Cheryl announced.
“Really?” Heather asked.
“Really honey, will you be my wife?”
“Uh, yeah. I mean, hell yeah. Really? Wow! I’m gonna be married!”
The crowed erupted. Heather jumped off the stage, raced to Gary and leapt into his arms.
“Hey, Lissa, you forgot your award!” the MC said.
Heather grabbed the mike from Gary. “I don’t need it! I got all the award I need tonight. I won the best prize ever! I love you, honey,” she said to Gary, which was carried by the mike.
Gary said, “I love you too, baby.” Into the mike he said, “Folks get ready, I think her next book is going to be about a fantastic honeymoon in Hawaii.”
The crowd’s roar was deafening.
© 2010 Michelle Carlyle
Friday, September 3, 2010
Her Secret Life, Parts Five and Six
Cyberfriends!
I hate it when my mind goes blank. It just did. Please stand by for technical difficulties…Nope. Not happening. I must be tired. We’re dealing with another heat wave and this part of the country doesn’t get that hot, so none of us have air-conditioning. When it’s hot here, it’s HOT. And I don’t sleep well. The kitchen was 85 last night. Thankfully, the ocean breeze picked up and it cooled off. Some. But I’m not complaining. I don’t mind a few days of heat. Better than having hurricanes and that humidity most of you are enduring.
We can only brag so much about the weather here. Our compensation for great weather are earthquakes. Of course, we haven’t had an earthquake in awhile. Thank God, because they are TERRIFYING. I used to like them until the Loma Prieta earthquake. Small ones give you a rush and don’t hurt anything. But now I know how strong they can get and you never know at the beginning how wild it will get. Eeek. Why am I thinking about this???? Nasty.
Okie-dokie, so here is the next chunk of Her Secret Life, found in Bad Girls 3. Almost half of what’s left of the story, double the normal amount I post. I’ll give you the other half next week.
Hugs to all you great people out there! I hope you have a fantastic Labor Day Weekend!
Michelle
Heather stared into the sharp blue eyes of her lover. Her mind became a cascade of questions. How did he find her at the erotica convention? Had he heard her keynote speech? When did he find out she wrote erotica? Was he going to break up with her?
Then the biggest question pounded her mind. Was Gary going to spank her again? She could barely sit as it was. She couldn’t imagine what he would do to her ass now. Now that he’d actually caught her in a lie. He’d warned her what would happen if he did. What would be her fate? Would he dump her or spank her? Or spank her then dump her?
She broke out of her stunned daze and came to her senses. Behind Gary was a huge line of her fans, all waiting for her to sign their books. She had to get it together. She had to cope and focus. At least until the signing was over.
“Uh… So, you’d like it made out to Gary Hammer? Or just Gary?” she finally stammered.
“How about just Gary?” he said, his blue eyes steely.
“G-good. Just G-Gary,” she said, the pen shaking in her hand. She could feel the sweat break out on her forehead.
“Hey Heather, you okay? You look like you just saw a ghost,” joked a fellow writer Sara, who sat next to her.
“Uh, no. I… Oh, Sara, this is my boyfriend or was my boyfriend, Gary. Gary, Sara.”
Sara stuck out her hand to Gary, who graciously accepted it. “Pleased to meet you, Gary. Ooo, you’re cute. Hey, you’re the red-haired guy in Heather’s latest novel, aren’t you? Man, I can see you really inspired her. This is her best book ever. What do you think of it?”
Gary flushed as red as his hair.
Heather wanted to die. “He hasn’t read it yet, Sara. I didn’t want him to until it was published.”
“Why? He came out really well in it. Honey, you have improved this woman’s writing, let me tell you. That last boyfriend, well, let’s put it this way, she had to work to make her story work. You, well it was clear the story just poured out of her. You aren’t a cop, though, are you? Not like the guy in the story.”
“No, I’m not a cop. But I do believe in certain rules. And that there are consequences when someone breaks a rule,” he said, leveling his stare at Heather. She shifted in her seat.
“Oooo, sounds like you guys are into B and D, very cool,” Sara said. “I’m gonna look forward to your next book, Heather. Sounds like it’s gonna be very spicy.”
“Yeah, spicy,” Heather repeated, now terrified.
Gary said, “Well, honey, sign the book, I’ll wait for you to get done.”
“Are you coming to the dinner tonight?” Sara asked Gary. “Your girlfriend is up for an award.”
“Uh…” he said, staring at Heather.
“He had to work, so I didn’t invite him, but he’s welcome to come,” Heather said awkwardly.
Gary said, “I was hoping to spend a little time with you before the dinner, honey. Maybe in your hotel room?”
“Ooo, I like the way this man thinks,” Sara said, elbowing Heather in the ribs. “Hold onto him and never let him go, girlfriend.”
“Yeah. My hotel room. I will have a couple hours to kill.”
“Just make sure she can walk, talk and sit, Gary,” Sara joked. “She may need to accept an award.”
“I’ll bear that in mind, Sara. Honey, I’ll just be waiting in the lobby bar, okay?” Gary asked.
“Okay, honey,” Heather replied mechanically.
The next hour was a blur. Heather put on a fake smile and made small talk with her fans while signing autographs, but all she could think about was that her life was over. Well, her life with Gary, anyway.
When the book signing was over, Heather checked her watch. It was four, the dinner was at seven. Three hours to be killed, dumped with just enough time to put herself back together again for the awards ceremony. Neat.
She walked out to the lobby bar and easily found Gary. That flame red hair stood out against the sea of suits at the bar. His expression was unreadable.
“Shall we go up to your room?” he asked.
“Can I have a drink first?”
“I’d rather have you clear.”
“Okay, I’ll drink afterwards.”
“You’ll probably need it.”
They went up to her room in silence. Poor Gary had to endure several fans stopping her for more autographs and their obvious appraisal of him as he stood next to her. She had no idea what he was thinking. It couldn’t be good.
She let him into her hotel room and reluctantly followed. He walked across the room and looked out of her window, which afforded amazing views of the San Francisco Bay and the Bay Bridge.
“Nice view,” he said.
“Uh, yeah.”
“So how long have you been writing erotica?”
“Thanks for not calling it ‘porn’. Uh, twelve years. Just really got popular in the last four. Erotica has seen a real boom in the past few years. Used to be hard to sell the stuff, now they can’t get enough.”
She sat on the edge of her bed and regarded his stiff shoulders at the window. He still had his back to her.
“You lied to me,” he said without turning around.
“I did.”
“Why?” He finally turned around to face her.
“Because I didn’t think you’d approve. Not many do. I lie first, then see if the people are cool. Erotica puts off most people. And especially erotica writers.”
“You had a long line of fans there.”
“I did.”
“So why didn’t you think I’d find out?”
“I… don’t know.”
“This is the same excuse you gave me a few nights ago. Why don’t you know?”
“I guess I didn’t expect you to hang around that long. They never do.”
“Who never does?”
“Guys. Normally I’ve been dumped by now. Well, by the guys I care about. The other ones, I dump.”
He regarded her and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
“Are you angry with me?” she asked.
“Yes. But I guess I’m more hurt that you didn’t trust me. So what else is there? What other secrets do you have? Could you please just tell me everything so I don’t get blindsided like I did today and last week?”
“How did you end up here?” she asked instead of answering him.
“I had lunch with Tom in the restaurant at the top of the hotel. Tom was cracking all kinds of jokes about your conference. We decided to peruse the book signing to see what kinds of people wrote those books. We were both surprised by all the older ladies sitting behind tables. And you can imagine my surprise when I saw you sitting there with that huge line of fans. Luckily, Tom didn’t see you. I pretended to have somewhere else to go. I walked him out and then came back and got in line. So you were the keynote speaker, too, huh?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Some lady standing behind me really enjoyed you. So how do you think you did?”
“I got a standing ovation. Sorry about Sara. I…”
“So did you really put me in that book?”
“Kinda.”
“Kinda. You either did or you didn’t.”
“I did.”
“Huh.” She couldn’t tell what he thought about that.
“So you don’t do any tech writing, do you?”
“No.”
“All those books, those papers—”
“Window dressing. All fakes. I put them out when my parents come to visit.”
“Or me,” he added curtly.
“Or you.”
“So you do smoke pot, don’t you?” Gary asked. “You bought some from Melvin, didn’t you? That’s why you were there.”
“Yes.”
“I thought I smelled pot on your breath a few weeks ago.”
“I normally don’t indulge when you’re around. I don’t like to keep stuff from you.”
He snorted. “Really? Sounds like you’ve kept a lot from me.”
“I got used to hiding myself from people. Guess it’s a habit now.”
“Nasty habit.”
She said nothing.
“What else? Do you have a criminal record?”
“No.”
“Let me put it this way, what about you is the truth that you told me?”
“That I love you.”
“Aside from that.”
She sighed. “That I’m a writer. That I like weird action figures, riding my motorcycle and hiking. You met my parents. And one of my friends from high school, Melvin there. I’m not leading a complete double life. I smoke pot and I write erotica. Okay, fine. All my dark secrets. You’re gonna probably dump me so I’ll just tell you all of it.”
“Might be nice,” he added with an acidic edge.
“I dealt pot from when I was twelve through college, I guess, twenty-five. It’s how I made my money. I put myself through school that way. Never was caught. Quit as soon as I could, basically as soon as I made money through the erotica. I belong to NORMAL, I vote Green Party and I have no record. I graduated with a degree in creative writing, not tech writing. I was never a girl scout. I am the top grossing erotica writer in the country. I make appearances several times a year at various conventions. I do radio and some talk shows, but on cable networks and under my pen name, Lissa Dubois. I like metal music, not that crap I play when you’re around. And I’ve been proposed to three times, all by guys I didn’t love. Oh, and I hate sushi. And light beer.”
“Anything else?”
“No, I think that covers it.”
“Wow,” he said. He got up and stared out the window for a few moments. Heather didn’t know what he thought or what to do. So she just sat there and watched him.
“Do you want to accompany me to the dinner later on?”
“Am I invited?’
“Certainly. But…”
“People will assume I am the model for the character in your book.”
“Yes.”
“And they would be correct.”
“Yes.”
“O-kay.” He still didn’t look at her.
He put his hands on his hips. Then ran a hand through his hair. He paced. She waited.
He finally turned and looked at her. He was clearly not pleased.
He walked over to her and gazed down at her with disapproval. Abruptly, he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her to her feet.
He sat down, yanked her across his lap and she knew what was coming next.
Gary pulled up her skirt, pulled down her undies and got her settled over his knee.
©2010, Michelle Carlyle
I hate it when my mind goes blank. It just did. Please stand by for technical difficulties…Nope. Not happening. I must be tired. We’re dealing with another heat wave and this part of the country doesn’t get that hot, so none of us have air-conditioning. When it’s hot here, it’s HOT. And I don’t sleep well. The kitchen was 85 last night. Thankfully, the ocean breeze picked up and it cooled off. Some. But I’m not complaining. I don’t mind a few days of heat. Better than having hurricanes and that humidity most of you are enduring.
We can only brag so much about the weather here. Our compensation for great weather are earthquakes. Of course, we haven’t had an earthquake in awhile. Thank God, because they are TERRIFYING. I used to like them until the Loma Prieta earthquake. Small ones give you a rush and don’t hurt anything. But now I know how strong they can get and you never know at the beginning how wild it will get. Eeek. Why am I thinking about this???? Nasty.
Okie-dokie, so here is the next chunk of Her Secret Life, found in Bad Girls 3. Almost half of what’s left of the story, double the normal amount I post. I’ll give you the other half next week.
Hugs to all you great people out there! I hope you have a fantastic Labor Day Weekend!
Michelle
Heather stared into the sharp blue eyes of her lover. Her mind became a cascade of questions. How did he find her at the erotica convention? Had he heard her keynote speech? When did he find out she wrote erotica? Was he going to break up with her?
Then the biggest question pounded her mind. Was Gary going to spank her again? She could barely sit as it was. She couldn’t imagine what he would do to her ass now. Now that he’d actually caught her in a lie. He’d warned her what would happen if he did. What would be her fate? Would he dump her or spank her? Or spank her then dump her?
She broke out of her stunned daze and came to her senses. Behind Gary was a huge line of her fans, all waiting for her to sign their books. She had to get it together. She had to cope and focus. At least until the signing was over.
“Uh… So, you’d like it made out to Gary Hammer? Or just Gary?” she finally stammered.
“How about just Gary?” he said, his blue eyes steely.
“G-good. Just G-Gary,” she said, the pen shaking in her hand. She could feel the sweat break out on her forehead.
“Hey Heather, you okay? You look like you just saw a ghost,” joked a fellow writer Sara, who sat next to her.
“Uh, no. I… Oh, Sara, this is my boyfriend or was my boyfriend, Gary. Gary, Sara.”
Sara stuck out her hand to Gary, who graciously accepted it. “Pleased to meet you, Gary. Ooo, you’re cute. Hey, you’re the red-haired guy in Heather’s latest novel, aren’t you? Man, I can see you really inspired her. This is her best book ever. What do you think of it?”
Gary flushed as red as his hair.
Heather wanted to die. “He hasn’t read it yet, Sara. I didn’t want him to until it was published.”
“Why? He came out really well in it. Honey, you have improved this woman’s writing, let me tell you. That last boyfriend, well, let’s put it this way, she had to work to make her story work. You, well it was clear the story just poured out of her. You aren’t a cop, though, are you? Not like the guy in the story.”
“No, I’m not a cop. But I do believe in certain rules. And that there are consequences when someone breaks a rule,” he said, leveling his stare at Heather. She shifted in her seat.
“Oooo, sounds like you guys are into B and D, very cool,” Sara said. “I’m gonna look forward to your next book, Heather. Sounds like it’s gonna be very spicy.”
“Yeah, spicy,” Heather repeated, now terrified.
Gary said, “Well, honey, sign the book, I’ll wait for you to get done.”
“Are you coming to the dinner tonight?” Sara asked Gary. “Your girlfriend is up for an award.”
“Uh…” he said, staring at Heather.
“He had to work, so I didn’t invite him, but he’s welcome to come,” Heather said awkwardly.
Gary said, “I was hoping to spend a little time with you before the dinner, honey. Maybe in your hotel room?”
“Ooo, I like the way this man thinks,” Sara said, elbowing Heather in the ribs. “Hold onto him and never let him go, girlfriend.”
“Yeah. My hotel room. I will have a couple hours to kill.”
“Just make sure she can walk, talk and sit, Gary,” Sara joked. “She may need to accept an award.”
“I’ll bear that in mind, Sara. Honey, I’ll just be waiting in the lobby bar, okay?” Gary asked.
“Okay, honey,” Heather replied mechanically.
The next hour was a blur. Heather put on a fake smile and made small talk with her fans while signing autographs, but all she could think about was that her life was over. Well, her life with Gary, anyway.
When the book signing was over, Heather checked her watch. It was four, the dinner was at seven. Three hours to be killed, dumped with just enough time to put herself back together again for the awards ceremony. Neat.
She walked out to the lobby bar and easily found Gary. That flame red hair stood out against the sea of suits at the bar. His expression was unreadable.
“Shall we go up to your room?” he asked.
“Can I have a drink first?”
“I’d rather have you clear.”
“Okay, I’ll drink afterwards.”
“You’ll probably need it.”
They went up to her room in silence. Poor Gary had to endure several fans stopping her for more autographs and their obvious appraisal of him as he stood next to her. She had no idea what he was thinking. It couldn’t be good.
She let him into her hotel room and reluctantly followed. He walked across the room and looked out of her window, which afforded amazing views of the San Francisco Bay and the Bay Bridge.
“Nice view,” he said.
“Uh, yeah.”
“So how long have you been writing erotica?”
“Thanks for not calling it ‘porn’. Uh, twelve years. Just really got popular in the last four. Erotica has seen a real boom in the past few years. Used to be hard to sell the stuff, now they can’t get enough.”
She sat on the edge of her bed and regarded his stiff shoulders at the window. He still had his back to her.
“You lied to me,” he said without turning around.
“I did.”
“Why?” He finally turned around to face her.
“Because I didn’t think you’d approve. Not many do. I lie first, then see if the people are cool. Erotica puts off most people. And especially erotica writers.”
“You had a long line of fans there.”
“I did.”
“So why didn’t you think I’d find out?”
“I… don’t know.”
“This is the same excuse you gave me a few nights ago. Why don’t you know?”
“I guess I didn’t expect you to hang around that long. They never do.”
“Who never does?”
“Guys. Normally I’ve been dumped by now. Well, by the guys I care about. The other ones, I dump.”
He regarded her and rubbed his chin thoughtfully.
“Are you angry with me?” she asked.
“Yes. But I guess I’m more hurt that you didn’t trust me. So what else is there? What other secrets do you have? Could you please just tell me everything so I don’t get blindsided like I did today and last week?”
“How did you end up here?” she asked instead of answering him.
“I had lunch with Tom in the restaurant at the top of the hotel. Tom was cracking all kinds of jokes about your conference. We decided to peruse the book signing to see what kinds of people wrote those books. We were both surprised by all the older ladies sitting behind tables. And you can imagine my surprise when I saw you sitting there with that huge line of fans. Luckily, Tom didn’t see you. I pretended to have somewhere else to go. I walked him out and then came back and got in line. So you were the keynote speaker, too, huh?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Some lady standing behind me really enjoyed you. So how do you think you did?”
“I got a standing ovation. Sorry about Sara. I…”
“So did you really put me in that book?”
“Kinda.”
“Kinda. You either did or you didn’t.”
“I did.”
“Huh.” She couldn’t tell what he thought about that.
“So you don’t do any tech writing, do you?”
“No.”
“All those books, those papers—”
“Window dressing. All fakes. I put them out when my parents come to visit.”
“Or me,” he added curtly.
“Or you.”
“So you do smoke pot, don’t you?” Gary asked. “You bought some from Melvin, didn’t you? That’s why you were there.”
“Yes.”
“I thought I smelled pot on your breath a few weeks ago.”
“I normally don’t indulge when you’re around. I don’t like to keep stuff from you.”
He snorted. “Really? Sounds like you’ve kept a lot from me.”
“I got used to hiding myself from people. Guess it’s a habit now.”
“Nasty habit.”
She said nothing.
“What else? Do you have a criminal record?”
“No.”
“Let me put it this way, what about you is the truth that you told me?”
“That I love you.”
“Aside from that.”
She sighed. “That I’m a writer. That I like weird action figures, riding my motorcycle and hiking. You met my parents. And one of my friends from high school, Melvin there. I’m not leading a complete double life. I smoke pot and I write erotica. Okay, fine. All my dark secrets. You’re gonna probably dump me so I’ll just tell you all of it.”
“Might be nice,” he added with an acidic edge.
“I dealt pot from when I was twelve through college, I guess, twenty-five. It’s how I made my money. I put myself through school that way. Never was caught. Quit as soon as I could, basically as soon as I made money through the erotica. I belong to NORMAL, I vote Green Party and I have no record. I graduated with a degree in creative writing, not tech writing. I was never a girl scout. I am the top grossing erotica writer in the country. I make appearances several times a year at various conventions. I do radio and some talk shows, but on cable networks and under my pen name, Lissa Dubois. I like metal music, not that crap I play when you’re around. And I’ve been proposed to three times, all by guys I didn’t love. Oh, and I hate sushi. And light beer.”
“Anything else?”
“No, I think that covers it.”
“Wow,” he said. He got up and stared out the window for a few moments. Heather didn’t know what he thought or what to do. So she just sat there and watched him.
“Do you want to accompany me to the dinner later on?”
“Am I invited?’
“Certainly. But…”
“People will assume I am the model for the character in your book.”
“Yes.”
“And they would be correct.”
“Yes.”
“O-kay.” He still didn’t look at her.
He put his hands on his hips. Then ran a hand through his hair. He paced. She waited.
He finally turned and looked at her. He was clearly not pleased.
He walked over to her and gazed down at her with disapproval. Abruptly, he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her to her feet.
He sat down, yanked her across his lap and she knew what was coming next.
Gary pulled up her skirt, pulled down her undies and got her settled over his knee.
©2010, Michelle Carlyle
Friday, August 27, 2010
Her Secret Life, Part Four
Hey Guys and Gals!
Michelle here. More or less. Very tired. Still. From the festival last weekend, a mini-heat-wave this week during which I got no sleep (no A/C). Add to that a trip to see my parents, I’m flat out.
I managed to MC the festival, but it was one of the hardest things I’ve done. Exhausting without my partner. Who does all kinds of stuff that I’ve never paid attention to. Over seventeen years we formed an unspoken agenda for running the show. She did all kinds of things I had no idea about. The second bad thing was that there was no stage manager. I was down two people. It was just me and the sound guys. All two of them. But we did it. Someone brought a huge stand-up picture of my co-mc (a local celebrity) and I stood her next to me on stage and did her voice (she’s English) and mine and pretended to talk to her. People loved it. I didn’t know what else to do, actually. Our banter is what carries the show.
During the festival, in addition to announcing the bands, doing the raffles, making all the announcements for everything that’s going on and people who have lost children, etc, there is this forty-five minute local fashion show that my partner and I must also carry. We get about three minutes of instructions and guidelines about who is wearing what and then we…try to be funny for forty-five minutes. Saying it’s hard is a gross understatement. Simply entertain four hundred people for close to an hour. And this comes at the END of the festival. When my brain is really gone. And this was the year that I realized that my partner carries that show and all I do is make snarky comments. So this year, I had to carry the show AND make snarky comments. I did it. I’m glad I did it. It worked. People loved it. But we had some huge glitches. Wrong songs to the wrong outfits, sound glitches, Michelle glitches. Thankfully, I only swore once during the show. Into the microphone. To hear “SHIT!” in your voice coming from the very back of the venue is embarrassing. People were kind, however. And we made over 8000 bucks for the kids of the town for education programs, which is the purpose of the festival. So that rocked.
But I'm really glad that’s OVER. And now I get to write. Yay!!!! I’ve challenged myself this month. I’m going to write as many spanking stories as I can. I’m going to set aside the novel for right now and bank some good stories. Hubby should be pretty happy about that one. There is a direct relationship between frequency of fucking in our marriage and how many days I spend writing spanking stories. Can you imagine?
Okay, peoples. I’m going to get back to the stories. I hope you have a fantastic weekend. Next week, we continue with Her Secret Life, found in Bad Girls 3. I think.
Hugs and love to you wonderful people,
Michelle
Gary thought for a moment. He sighed. “Look, I want this to go further, our relationship. But to do that I need to know all of who you are. Everything.”
She had nothing to say. She hadn’t counted on this at all. She’d never had a relationship work before. What was she supposed to do?
He studied her. It made her uneasy.
“Let’s drop it for now,” he said. “But I better set some ground rules, just so we’re clear.”
“Ground rules?”
“Well, you obviously broke one of them today, I just thought I ought to let you know what my parameters are. What I will and will not tolerate from you.”
“Oh. Uh, okay.”
“Good. Number one rule, don’t jump in front of moving trains, okay?”
She laughed. Then stopped herself. “I know it wasn’t funny. No problem. I just kinda freaked out.”
“I’ll say. So if you do that in the future, you bet I’ll turn you over my knee and whack on you.”
“Got that. You made that very clear.”
“Next rule, you need to be honest with me. I understand if you want to keep some things to yourself, but honey, I want to know all of you. Don’t worry; I’ll love you no matter what. I’m not that much of a stickler. I’m willing to accept some differences.”
“Okay.”
“And my last rule is, never lie to me. Not only does it erode the trust between us, I just can’t tolerate liars. I’ve got a bug about it, okay?”
“Gotcha. No problem. I’m surprised you thought you had to tell me that one. I know you well enough. I mean, today surprised me, but... I suppose it’s understandable.
“You almost died today.”
“I agree, I should have stopped. I just didn’t want to lose you.”
“Is that what you were worried about?”
“Yes.”
“Honey, come here. Come here,” he said reaching out and embracing her. “I couldn’t leave you. Come on, I love you, baby. I want to go the long haul with you. You’re my girl. There’s nothing you could do—short of working in porn or something—that would turn me off to the point where I would leave you.”
Working in porn. She wrote erotica. How far did this tolerance of his go? She should tell him. Get it all over with.
Or maybe she should wait, get him really bonded to her and then drop the bomb.
Gary squeezed her and said, “I’m not leaving you, but honey, it doesn’t mean that I’m not going to put the wood to you if you screw up. That was crazy today, honey.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So don’t lie to me and don’t try to kill yourself and you won’t find yourself over my knee.”
He held her and petted her and then made love to her. She fell asleep in his arms, blissful.
At three in the morning, Heather woke up, paranoid. He was going to find out all her secrets and dump her, she knew it. She actually loved the guy. How was she supposed to reveal all her secrets to him? How did normal relationships work? She had no real idea how to approach this.
Then she realized that she had an erotica convention in the City that weekend. She’d forgotten all about it. She was even the guest speaker. What was she going to tell Gary?
Next morning, Gary woke her up with a lovely kiss. “Hey honey, we’re going to be late for work, get up.”
Heather wiped her eyes and stretched. “Oh, yeah, work.”
“Hey, this weekend, let’s go to the City and ride the cable cars,” he suggested.
“Uh… I have to work,” she lied quickly.
He looked surprised. “Really? When did this come up?”
Heather said, “I’d completely forgot, but we’re having some stupid seminar that I have to attend. All weekend.”
“Bummer. Oh, well, maybe the next weekend.”
“Sure, honey,” she said. She was overcome by a sense of guilt. Which was odd. Had she ever felt guilty before? She couldn’t remember.
That weekend, at the conference, Heather’s keynote speech went great. Everyone laughed at her jokes, she even got a standing ovation. Killer!
Later, she was at the book signing with all the other popular erotica writers. A huge line of fans stretched out in front of her table. It was so fun to talk to her readers and hear what they thought of her latest work.
She’d run out of books and leaned down to get some more. When she sat up again, she got ready to sign the next fan’s book. She was fumbling to get the book open—the binding was tight—and before she looked up at the person, she asked, “So in whose name would you like the inscription?”
“Gary T. Hammer.”
Heather froze. When she looked up, she found herself staring into the cool blue eyes of her lover.
©2010, Michelle Carlyle
Michelle here. More or less. Very tired. Still. From the festival last weekend, a mini-heat-wave this week during which I got no sleep (no A/C). Add to that a trip to see my parents, I’m flat out.
I managed to MC the festival, but it was one of the hardest things I’ve done. Exhausting without my partner. Who does all kinds of stuff that I’ve never paid attention to. Over seventeen years we formed an unspoken agenda for running the show. She did all kinds of things I had no idea about. The second bad thing was that there was no stage manager. I was down two people. It was just me and the sound guys. All two of them. But we did it. Someone brought a huge stand-up picture of my co-mc (a local celebrity) and I stood her next to me on stage and did her voice (she’s English) and mine and pretended to talk to her. People loved it. I didn’t know what else to do, actually. Our banter is what carries the show.
During the festival, in addition to announcing the bands, doing the raffles, making all the announcements for everything that’s going on and people who have lost children, etc, there is this forty-five minute local fashion show that my partner and I must also carry. We get about three minutes of instructions and guidelines about who is wearing what and then we…try to be funny for forty-five minutes. Saying it’s hard is a gross understatement. Simply entertain four hundred people for close to an hour. And this comes at the END of the festival. When my brain is really gone. And this was the year that I realized that my partner carries that show and all I do is make snarky comments. So this year, I had to carry the show AND make snarky comments. I did it. I’m glad I did it. It worked. People loved it. But we had some huge glitches. Wrong songs to the wrong outfits, sound glitches, Michelle glitches. Thankfully, I only swore once during the show. Into the microphone. To hear “SHIT!” in your voice coming from the very back of the venue is embarrassing. People were kind, however. And we made over 8000 bucks for the kids of the town for education programs, which is the purpose of the festival. So that rocked.
But I'm really glad that’s OVER. And now I get to write. Yay!!!! I’ve challenged myself this month. I’m going to write as many spanking stories as I can. I’m going to set aside the novel for right now and bank some good stories. Hubby should be pretty happy about that one. There is a direct relationship between frequency of fucking in our marriage and how many days I spend writing spanking stories. Can you imagine?
Okay, peoples. I’m going to get back to the stories. I hope you have a fantastic weekend. Next week, we continue with Her Secret Life, found in Bad Girls 3. I think.
Hugs and love to you wonderful people,
Michelle
Gary thought for a moment. He sighed. “Look, I want this to go further, our relationship. But to do that I need to know all of who you are. Everything.”
She had nothing to say. She hadn’t counted on this at all. She’d never had a relationship work before. What was she supposed to do?
He studied her. It made her uneasy.
“Let’s drop it for now,” he said. “But I better set some ground rules, just so we’re clear.”
“Ground rules?”
“Well, you obviously broke one of them today, I just thought I ought to let you know what my parameters are. What I will and will not tolerate from you.”
“Oh. Uh, okay.”
“Good. Number one rule, don’t jump in front of moving trains, okay?”
She laughed. Then stopped herself. “I know it wasn’t funny. No problem. I just kinda freaked out.”
“I’ll say. So if you do that in the future, you bet I’ll turn you over my knee and whack on you.”
“Got that. You made that very clear.”
“Next rule, you need to be honest with me. I understand if you want to keep some things to yourself, but honey, I want to know all of you. Don’t worry; I’ll love you no matter what. I’m not that much of a stickler. I’m willing to accept some differences.”
“Okay.”
“And my last rule is, never lie to me. Not only does it erode the trust between us, I just can’t tolerate liars. I’ve got a bug about it, okay?”
“Gotcha. No problem. I’m surprised you thought you had to tell me that one. I know you well enough. I mean, today surprised me, but... I suppose it’s understandable.
“You almost died today.”
“I agree, I should have stopped. I just didn’t want to lose you.”
“Is that what you were worried about?”
“Yes.”
“Honey, come here. Come here,” he said reaching out and embracing her. “I couldn’t leave you. Come on, I love you, baby. I want to go the long haul with you. You’re my girl. There’s nothing you could do—short of working in porn or something—that would turn me off to the point where I would leave you.”
Working in porn. She wrote erotica. How far did this tolerance of his go? She should tell him. Get it all over with.
Or maybe she should wait, get him really bonded to her and then drop the bomb.
Gary squeezed her and said, “I’m not leaving you, but honey, it doesn’t mean that I’m not going to put the wood to you if you screw up. That was crazy today, honey.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So don’t lie to me and don’t try to kill yourself and you won’t find yourself over my knee.”
He held her and petted her and then made love to her. She fell asleep in his arms, blissful.
At three in the morning, Heather woke up, paranoid. He was going to find out all her secrets and dump her, she knew it. She actually loved the guy. How was she supposed to reveal all her secrets to him? How did normal relationships work? She had no real idea how to approach this.
Then she realized that she had an erotica convention in the City that weekend. She’d forgotten all about it. She was even the guest speaker. What was she going to tell Gary?
Next morning, Gary woke her up with a lovely kiss. “Hey honey, we’re going to be late for work, get up.”
Heather wiped her eyes and stretched. “Oh, yeah, work.”
“Hey, this weekend, let’s go to the City and ride the cable cars,” he suggested.
“Uh… I have to work,” she lied quickly.
He looked surprised. “Really? When did this come up?”
Heather said, “I’d completely forgot, but we’re having some stupid seminar that I have to attend. All weekend.”
“Bummer. Oh, well, maybe the next weekend.”
“Sure, honey,” she said. She was overcome by a sense of guilt. Which was odd. Had she ever felt guilty before? She couldn’t remember.
That weekend, at the conference, Heather’s keynote speech went great. Everyone laughed at her jokes, she even got a standing ovation. Killer!
Later, she was at the book signing with all the other popular erotica writers. A huge line of fans stretched out in front of her table. It was so fun to talk to her readers and hear what they thought of her latest work.
She’d run out of books and leaned down to get some more. When she sat up again, she got ready to sign the next fan’s book. She was fumbling to get the book open—the binding was tight—and before she looked up at the person, she asked, “So in whose name would you like the inscription?”
“Gary T. Hammer.”
Heather froze. When she looked up, she found herself staring into the cool blue eyes of her lover.
©2010, Michelle Carlyle
Friday, August 20, 2010
Her Secret Life, Part Three
Hello Out There In Spanko Land!
How are you guys today? I’m a bit overwhelmed. Got relatives here from Montana and this weekend I MC a music and art festival. Since I’ve MC’d this festival for the past 17 years, I have the routine down. However, this year, I will not have my co-MC—whom I NEED—nor will I have my back-up MC, the guy who runs the music part of the festival and jumps up on stage when I’m busy with the other million things I do. While I tapped a good friend to help me with the stage stuff, she doesn’t have the experience. And on Sunday, the local thrift store, run by a children’s organization hosts a thrift store fashion show and I have to extemporize for forty-five minutes plus. Normally, my co-MC takes the lead and I make snarky comments. But this year, that whole forty-five minutes is on my shoulders and to put it mildly, I’m freaking out. This is the second time in one summer where I’m being thrown on stage in front a huge audience with almost no rehearsal. AND I just found out that 30 classmates from high school will be attending the festival. No pressure. None at all.
Sheesh. And with the relatives here with their two kids (four and seven) we’ve been slammed. I’m already exhausted. But oh, well, the show must go on.
And poor Hubby. Last night the family left to go to their hotel, I just finish cleaning the house and putting away the toys and he comes looking for sex. I just stared at him. “Are you out of your FUCKING mind? I haven’t done one thing for myself today, haven’t had a chance to sit once and now you want SEX????” He said, “Well, yeah, you need to do something nice for yourself.” “I’m doing it!” I replied. “Oh.” Very sweet sentiment, but Jesus, what bad timing. Men don’t seem to understand that when you’ve served people all day long and taken zero time for yourself, another request, no matter how nice it is, makes you want to SCREAM. And my head is full of four-year-olds and seven-year-olds and all the stuff I have to do at the festival. Which pretty much KILLS my sex drive. I assured him next week will be different. Next week, I write my spanking stories. And that’s pretty much guaranteed sex.
But still. I have no idea how mothers of children ever find the time or energy or desire to screw. Children are their own form of birth control. And so is being over-committed.
I can’t wait until next week.
Hope all you lovely people have a great weekend. Think of me on a stage somewhere, making an ass out of myself.
Hugs to you all,
Michelle
Gary walked over to her laundry hamper and opened it up. He withdrew her red baseball shirt and sent her a glare.
“It was you, wasn’t it?”
“Me, what?” she asked as innocently as she could.
“Don’t! Just don’t. Tell me, I want to hear you say it.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“It was you I chased, wasn’t it? You who threw herself in front of that train.”
“Uh…”
Gary’s face flushed red. It almost matched his hair. He walked right over to her. “I obviously need to make some things clear to you,” he said.
He sat next to her, grabbed her and pulled her across his lap. He couldn’t. She was a grown woman, wasn’t she? He wouldn’t be… spanking her, would he?
As if in answer to her mental question, she felt her sweats and panties being pulled to her knees. The air rushed over her exposed behind.
“Gary, what—“
Whack! Gary smacked her full force on the butt with his large open hand. The pain shocked her. She gasped, unable to breathe. He whacked her again, harder this time.
“Gary, stop! I’m sorry!”
“Not yet, you aren’t! But by the time I’m through with you, you sure as hell will be!”
He slapped her ass with gusto. Her buns were on fire. How could this be happening to her? This wasn’t right. People didn’t spank people when they were bad. Not adult people. She hadn’t even been spanked as a child; her parents didn’t believe in it. This was shocking. It was the first time she’d ever really had a consequence for one of her actions. Mind-blowing.
Not to mention extremely painful. But through the pain and tears, something else was clear. This man cared about her. Really, truly cared about her. Doubly shocking. A guy who cared about her this much? To actually be spanking her? Trying to get some sense into her?
She had to admit, jumping in front of the train was stupid. She’d been a split second away from death. She supposed his treatment was somewhat appropriate.
Even though the man was barbecuing her ass. She wasn’t sure she’d ever sit down comfortably again.
Soon, Heather had enough. She began to fight him. She tried to claw her way across the bed, but Gary’s arm was like an iron bar across her back. The more she struggled the harder he hit her. His hand felt like a flat piece of wood impacting her poor behind.
Gary finally stopped. Probably because he was worried that the neighbors would call the police due to all the cries of pain coming out of her. She continued bawling, absolutely torn by conflicting emotions. She was furious he’d dared to spank her, encouraged because it might mean that he really loved her, and moreover, worried that he’d find out all the other stuff about her. What would he do if he found out she’d lied about her career? About her pot smoking? Would he spank her again that hard? Or would he just leave her?
She suddenly realized that she didn’t want him to leave her. As much as the spanking upset her, this was a guy she realized that she actually cared about. She cared about what he thought of her. It had never been like this before.
He took her in his arms and kissed her. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, the spanking’s over.” He kissed her on the temple, reached up and wiped away some tears.
“I’m sorry.”
“I wish you would have stopped,” Gary said. “You’re his friend, it was fine that you were there. I know you. I know you had nothing to do with his stupid blog.”
“He’d just told me. He’s no danger to society. He’s an idiot.”
“We got that. We still had to haul him in with the war on terror and all, but he’ll be released soon.”
“Good, good.”
“So why did you run?” he asked.
“I… uh. I… don’t know.”
He examined her, almost looking through her. Never date a cop. Now all his detective antennae were turned onto her. This was bad. She always counted on the fact that most men lived inside their own heads. This guy just jumped out of his own and into hers. He could easily find out everything. She could be in big trouble.
“What did Melvin tell you?” she asked.
“Nothing. Actually, not even your name. I found the keychain and then tricked him into telling me you were there. Plus there are only about twenty pictures of you with him all over his walls. That was kind of a big clue there.”
“Crap.”
“Honey, why did you run? The only thing I could figure was that you were stoned and paranoid.”
She blinked. She didn’t know what to say. Anything she said could and probably would be used against her. In his court of law. Why did she have to fall in love with an FBI agent? Why? Why?
“Honey, I won’t break up with you. Were you smoking pot or not at his house?”
She stared at him. “I’d rather not answer on the grounds that it might incriminate me.”
“Is it a once in awhile thing, or do you do this regularly?” he asked, appearing concerned.
“Uh… do we have to talk about this?”
“No, but I would hope that you’d just be open with me about yourself. I don’t like you hiding parts of yourself from me. You’re safe with me. I love you.”
“I… Not today, I just don’t want to talk about it now.”
“Why did you jump the train? Are you that afraid of me?”
“No,” she lied.
“I think there’s somethin’ else going on here. You don’t feel safe with me.”
“I feel totally safe with you.”
“But you’re not being honest with me.”
“Look, just because I don’t want to talk about something doesn’t mean I’m lying. I don’t want to talk about it because I don’t want to lie.”
Gary thought for a moment. He sighed. “Look, I want this to go further, our relationship. But to do that I need to know all of who you are. Everything.”
She had nothing to say. She hadn’t counted on this at all. She’d never had a relationship work before. What was she supposed to do?
©2010, Michelle Carlyle
How are you guys today? I’m a bit overwhelmed. Got relatives here from Montana and this weekend I MC a music and art festival. Since I’ve MC’d this festival for the past 17 years, I have the routine down. However, this year, I will not have my co-MC—whom I NEED—nor will I have my back-up MC, the guy who runs the music part of the festival and jumps up on stage when I’m busy with the other million things I do. While I tapped a good friend to help me with the stage stuff, she doesn’t have the experience. And on Sunday, the local thrift store, run by a children’s organization hosts a thrift store fashion show and I have to extemporize for forty-five minutes plus. Normally, my co-MC takes the lead and I make snarky comments. But this year, that whole forty-five minutes is on my shoulders and to put it mildly, I’m freaking out. This is the second time in one summer where I’m being thrown on stage in front a huge audience with almost no rehearsal. AND I just found out that 30 classmates from high school will be attending the festival. No pressure. None at all.
Sheesh. And with the relatives here with their two kids (four and seven) we’ve been slammed. I’m already exhausted. But oh, well, the show must go on.
And poor Hubby. Last night the family left to go to their hotel, I just finish cleaning the house and putting away the toys and he comes looking for sex. I just stared at him. “Are you out of your FUCKING mind? I haven’t done one thing for myself today, haven’t had a chance to sit once and now you want SEX????” He said, “Well, yeah, you need to do something nice for yourself.” “I’m doing it!” I replied. “Oh.” Very sweet sentiment, but Jesus, what bad timing. Men don’t seem to understand that when you’ve served people all day long and taken zero time for yourself, another request, no matter how nice it is, makes you want to SCREAM. And my head is full of four-year-olds and seven-year-olds and all the stuff I have to do at the festival. Which pretty much KILLS my sex drive. I assured him next week will be different. Next week, I write my spanking stories. And that’s pretty much guaranteed sex.
But still. I have no idea how mothers of children ever find the time or energy or desire to screw. Children are their own form of birth control. And so is being over-committed.
I can’t wait until next week.
Hope all you lovely people have a great weekend. Think of me on a stage somewhere, making an ass out of myself.
Hugs to you all,
Michelle
Gary walked over to her laundry hamper and opened it up. He withdrew her red baseball shirt and sent her a glare.
“It was you, wasn’t it?”
“Me, what?” she asked as innocently as she could.
“Don’t! Just don’t. Tell me, I want to hear you say it.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“It was you I chased, wasn’t it? You who threw herself in front of that train.”
“Uh…”
Gary’s face flushed red. It almost matched his hair. He walked right over to her. “I obviously need to make some things clear to you,” he said.
He sat next to her, grabbed her and pulled her across his lap. He couldn’t. She was a grown woman, wasn’t she? He wouldn’t be… spanking her, would he?
As if in answer to her mental question, she felt her sweats and panties being pulled to her knees. The air rushed over her exposed behind.
“Gary, what—“
Whack! Gary smacked her full force on the butt with his large open hand. The pain shocked her. She gasped, unable to breathe. He whacked her again, harder this time.
“Gary, stop! I’m sorry!”
“Not yet, you aren’t! But by the time I’m through with you, you sure as hell will be!”
He slapped her ass with gusto. Her buns were on fire. How could this be happening to her? This wasn’t right. People didn’t spank people when they were bad. Not adult people. She hadn’t even been spanked as a child; her parents didn’t believe in it. This was shocking. It was the first time she’d ever really had a consequence for one of her actions. Mind-blowing.
Not to mention extremely painful. But through the pain and tears, something else was clear. This man cared about her. Really, truly cared about her. Doubly shocking. A guy who cared about her this much? To actually be spanking her? Trying to get some sense into her?
She had to admit, jumping in front of the train was stupid. She’d been a split second away from death. She supposed his treatment was somewhat appropriate.
Even though the man was barbecuing her ass. She wasn’t sure she’d ever sit down comfortably again.
Soon, Heather had enough. She began to fight him. She tried to claw her way across the bed, but Gary’s arm was like an iron bar across her back. The more she struggled the harder he hit her. His hand felt like a flat piece of wood impacting her poor behind.
Gary finally stopped. Probably because he was worried that the neighbors would call the police due to all the cries of pain coming out of her. She continued bawling, absolutely torn by conflicting emotions. She was furious he’d dared to spank her, encouraged because it might mean that he really loved her, and moreover, worried that he’d find out all the other stuff about her. What would he do if he found out she’d lied about her career? About her pot smoking? Would he spank her again that hard? Or would he just leave her?
She suddenly realized that she didn’t want him to leave her. As much as the spanking upset her, this was a guy she realized that she actually cared about. She cared about what he thought of her. It had never been like this before.
He took her in his arms and kissed her. “Hey, hey, it’s okay, it’s okay, the spanking’s over.” He kissed her on the temple, reached up and wiped away some tears.
“I’m sorry.”
“I wish you would have stopped,” Gary said. “You’re his friend, it was fine that you were there. I know you. I know you had nothing to do with his stupid blog.”
“He’d just told me. He’s no danger to society. He’s an idiot.”
“We got that. We still had to haul him in with the war on terror and all, but he’ll be released soon.”
“Good, good.”
“So why did you run?” he asked.
“I… uh. I… don’t know.”
He examined her, almost looking through her. Never date a cop. Now all his detective antennae were turned onto her. This was bad. She always counted on the fact that most men lived inside their own heads. This guy just jumped out of his own and into hers. He could easily find out everything. She could be in big trouble.
“What did Melvin tell you?” she asked.
“Nothing. Actually, not even your name. I found the keychain and then tricked him into telling me you were there. Plus there are only about twenty pictures of you with him all over his walls. That was kind of a big clue there.”
“Crap.”
“Honey, why did you run? The only thing I could figure was that you were stoned and paranoid.”
She blinked. She didn’t know what to say. Anything she said could and probably would be used against her. In his court of law. Why did she have to fall in love with an FBI agent? Why? Why?
“Honey, I won’t break up with you. Were you smoking pot or not at his house?”
She stared at him. “I’d rather not answer on the grounds that it might incriminate me.”
“Is it a once in awhile thing, or do you do this regularly?” he asked, appearing concerned.
“Uh… do we have to talk about this?”
“No, but I would hope that you’d just be open with me about yourself. I don’t like you hiding parts of yourself from me. You’re safe with me. I love you.”
“I… Not today, I just don’t want to talk about it now.”
“Why did you jump the train? Are you that afraid of me?”
“No,” she lied.
“I think there’s somethin’ else going on here. You don’t feel safe with me.”
“I feel totally safe with you.”
“But you’re not being honest with me.”
“Look, just because I don’t want to talk about something doesn’t mean I’m lying. I don’t want to talk about it because I don’t want to lie.”
Gary thought for a moment. He sighed. “Look, I want this to go further, our relationship. But to do that I need to know all of who you are. Everything.”
She had nothing to say. She hadn’t counted on this at all. She’d never had a relationship work before. What was she supposed to do?
©2010, Michelle Carlyle
Friday, August 13, 2010
Her Secret Life, Part Two
Hey Spankos!
Arrrrggggg. This is a true Friday the 13th for me. I feel like shit. Freakin’ panic attack in the middle of the night. Money worries will do that to you. We’re fine, we’ll be fine, but some stuff came up in the past week that has scared me. Apparently. Been awhile since I’ve laid awake like this. But something hit my buttons and now…I’m exhausted, my belly is buzzing and some part of me is screaming at me to “RUN!” No wonder I write a lot of romantic suspense. Heavy sigh. I think I’ll go back to bed.
So…this week (aside from the money weirdness) I’ve been working on polishing some upcoming releases: Hanky Spanky and two other titles. Yay! More books for sale! Wheeee! Which might help with those money worries.
Damn, I hate this economy. I hate that the rich keep getting richer and the rest of us suffer. I hate that money isn’t going into the schools or where we actually need it, it’s being spent in stupid ways that don’t help the majority. So many of my friends have lost their houses and jobs, it’s crazy. Yet the banks are doing great and so is Big Business. All these businesses are reporting record profits, but they won’t hire new people.
Okay, enough of this gloomy crap. Man. My brain is warped. I think I need to lose myself in one of my stories. Hey, look, there’s one right here. How convenient.
Hugs and love to all my readers,
Michelle
“Holy Moly! Melvin! It is Gary! He’s coming here to question you! I have to get out of here!” Heather cried, leaping to her feet. She grabbed her bag of pot, shoved it in her pocket and headed for the back door.
“Heather! Wait! I need a witness to the police brutality!” Melvin called after her.
Heather was already into the backyard. She raced through the overgrown yard, leapt up on the back fence and jumped over. Right as she landed, she heard a voice call out behind her. “Wait right there! FBI!” It was Gary. She couldn’t believe this. Heather ran for her life.
She leapt over lawn furniture, raced up to a table next to the fence, jumped up on it and vaulted over.
“I see you! Damn you, wait! FBI! I order you to stop!” he yelled after her.
Her heart pounding out of her chest, Heather ran across the next yard, leapt up on the fence and heaved herself over.
“FBI! Stop!”
How did this happen? Heather raced across one more yard, hopped the fence and landed in the street. Damn it!
She darted across the street, heading for an alley.
“Goddamn you!” came Gary’s cry from behind her.
She ran down the alley, turned the corner and saw the train tracks ahead of her. It was then she heard the train. She had to make it, she had to make it in front of the train. It was her only way out.
Even though she was nearly out of breath, somehow the terror of being caught by Gary propelled her faster.
“FBI! STOP!” he shouted. She checked over her shoulder; he was closing in on her. He was still a good fifty feet away, but he was getting closer by the minute.
The train’s deafening horn blared. The crossing gates were coming down up the block.
“Don’t try it! It’s not worth it! I only want to talk to you!” Gary cried out.
Heather’s entire focus was on the train and the tracks in front of her. It was going to be close.
She ran flat out for the tracks, the train was right there. Using every bit of her strength, she launched herself over the tracks. The conductor blared the horn.
She saw the train out of her peripheral vision; it looked like it was going to hit her.
She landed on the other side of the tracks just as the blast of the wind from the train hit her. She kept running, barely believing that she’d made it. She finally came to stop and checked behind her. The train was a long one, she’d made it.
Unable to believe what she’d just done, she turned away from the train and kept running. She had to get back home. She’d pick up her motorcycle later. Good thing there’d been no parking in front of Melvin’s. She’d parked down the block. Hopefully, Gary wouldn’t see the cycle. It least it was a stock Honda and a very popular model.
Heather didn’t stop panicking until she reached the safety of her own home. She rushed inside, hid her pot in her stash place and headed for the shower. She had to ditch her clothes and get the sweat off. No clues. Gary was due in two hours. Of course, if they arrested Melvin, maybe Gary would be delayed.
Three hours later, when she heard the knock at her door followed by the sound of it opening, she was ready. She had her fake work out on her desk, had prepared dinner and was casually dressed in sweats and t-shirt. She even took off her make up in an effort to appear like she’d been home all day.
When Gary’s face appeared at her office door, she didn’t bat an eye. She leapt out of her chair and ran to him. He grinned and brought her in for a lovely kiss.
“So how’s my favorite girl today?” he asked, his blue eyes twinkling down at her. She ran her hand through his flame red hair. “Better now that you’re here.”
He kissed her again. “So you been home all day?”
“Oh, yeah. Got a huge part of a manual done.”
“Good girl. So what’s cookin’? It smells great.”
“Pot roast,” she said.
“Mmm, sounds great. Tomorrow, I’m takin’ you out.”
“Ooo, where?”
“It’s a surprise. Actually, I have a couple surprises for you tonight.”
“Really? What kind of surprises?”
He smiled down at her. “You’ll just have to wait. Hey, I’m gonna throw on some sweats, too. You wanna come watch?”
“Food first, then sex. If I watch you, I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.”
“We could have sex before and after,” he said, reaching for her.
“I’m too hungry. Go get changed, then we can eat. You’re a bit late.”
“Yeah, had some problems at work.”
“Poor thing. Go change and meet me in the kitchen. You can tell me all about it.”
Heather was in the kitchen, congratulating herself for running. This was so cool. Gary would never know that it had been her at Melvin’s. Whew, dodged that bullet!
“Honey?” Gary called out.
“Yeah?”
“Could you come here a minute?”
“Sure. Just a sec.” Heather put down her wineglass and went to her bedroom. Gary had changed into sweats and black t-shirt. He looked so hot!
“What is it?” she asked, walking up to him.
“Hey, look what I found,” he said, handing her a small plastic object.
She looked at it. It was her Godzilla key ring. She’d spent a full hour searching for it that afternoon.
“God, I’ve been looking all over for this, where did you find it?” she asked.
The look in his eye changed. It darkened.
“What? Where did you find it?” she asked.
“At 4545 Willow Avenue,” he said as his mouth grew tight.
Heather felt like someone clubbed her over the head. She got dizzy. She had to sit. She collapsed on the bed. It was over. Over and done with.
©2010, Michelle Carlyle
Arrrrggggg. This is a true Friday the 13th for me. I feel like shit. Freakin’ panic attack in the middle of the night. Money worries will do that to you. We’re fine, we’ll be fine, but some stuff came up in the past week that has scared me. Apparently. Been awhile since I’ve laid awake like this. But something hit my buttons and now…I’m exhausted, my belly is buzzing and some part of me is screaming at me to “RUN!” No wonder I write a lot of romantic suspense. Heavy sigh. I think I’ll go back to bed.
So…this week (aside from the money weirdness) I’ve been working on polishing some upcoming releases: Hanky Spanky and two other titles. Yay! More books for sale! Wheeee! Which might help with those money worries.
Damn, I hate this economy. I hate that the rich keep getting richer and the rest of us suffer. I hate that money isn’t going into the schools or where we actually need it, it’s being spent in stupid ways that don’t help the majority. So many of my friends have lost their houses and jobs, it’s crazy. Yet the banks are doing great and so is Big Business. All these businesses are reporting record profits, but they won’t hire new people.
Okay, enough of this gloomy crap. Man. My brain is warped. I think I need to lose myself in one of my stories. Hey, look, there’s one right here. How convenient.
Hugs and love to all my readers,
Michelle
“Holy Moly! Melvin! It is Gary! He’s coming here to question you! I have to get out of here!” Heather cried, leaping to her feet. She grabbed her bag of pot, shoved it in her pocket and headed for the back door.
“Heather! Wait! I need a witness to the police brutality!” Melvin called after her.
Heather was already into the backyard. She raced through the overgrown yard, leapt up on the back fence and jumped over. Right as she landed, she heard a voice call out behind her. “Wait right there! FBI!” It was Gary. She couldn’t believe this. Heather ran for her life.
She leapt over lawn furniture, raced up to a table next to the fence, jumped up on it and vaulted over.
“I see you! Damn you, wait! FBI! I order you to stop!” he yelled after her.
Her heart pounding out of her chest, Heather ran across the next yard, leapt up on the fence and heaved herself over.
“FBI! Stop!”
How did this happen? Heather raced across one more yard, hopped the fence and landed in the street. Damn it!
She darted across the street, heading for an alley.
“Goddamn you!” came Gary’s cry from behind her.
She ran down the alley, turned the corner and saw the train tracks ahead of her. It was then she heard the train. She had to make it, she had to make it in front of the train. It was her only way out.
Even though she was nearly out of breath, somehow the terror of being caught by Gary propelled her faster.
“FBI! STOP!” he shouted. She checked over her shoulder; he was closing in on her. He was still a good fifty feet away, but he was getting closer by the minute.
The train’s deafening horn blared. The crossing gates were coming down up the block.
“Don’t try it! It’s not worth it! I only want to talk to you!” Gary cried out.
Heather’s entire focus was on the train and the tracks in front of her. It was going to be close.
She ran flat out for the tracks, the train was right there. Using every bit of her strength, she launched herself over the tracks. The conductor blared the horn.
She saw the train out of her peripheral vision; it looked like it was going to hit her.
She landed on the other side of the tracks just as the blast of the wind from the train hit her. She kept running, barely believing that she’d made it. She finally came to stop and checked behind her. The train was a long one, she’d made it.
Unable to believe what she’d just done, she turned away from the train and kept running. She had to get back home. She’d pick up her motorcycle later. Good thing there’d been no parking in front of Melvin’s. She’d parked down the block. Hopefully, Gary wouldn’t see the cycle. It least it was a stock Honda and a very popular model.
Heather didn’t stop panicking until she reached the safety of her own home. She rushed inside, hid her pot in her stash place and headed for the shower. She had to ditch her clothes and get the sweat off. No clues. Gary was due in two hours. Of course, if they arrested Melvin, maybe Gary would be delayed.
Three hours later, when she heard the knock at her door followed by the sound of it opening, she was ready. She had her fake work out on her desk, had prepared dinner and was casually dressed in sweats and t-shirt. She even took off her make up in an effort to appear like she’d been home all day.
When Gary’s face appeared at her office door, she didn’t bat an eye. She leapt out of her chair and ran to him. He grinned and brought her in for a lovely kiss.
“So how’s my favorite girl today?” he asked, his blue eyes twinkling down at her. She ran her hand through his flame red hair. “Better now that you’re here.”
He kissed her again. “So you been home all day?”
“Oh, yeah. Got a huge part of a manual done.”
“Good girl. So what’s cookin’? It smells great.”
“Pot roast,” she said.
“Mmm, sounds great. Tomorrow, I’m takin’ you out.”
“Ooo, where?”
“It’s a surprise. Actually, I have a couple surprises for you tonight.”
“Really? What kind of surprises?”
He smiled down at her. “You’ll just have to wait. Hey, I’m gonna throw on some sweats, too. You wanna come watch?”
“Food first, then sex. If I watch you, I won’t be able to keep my hands off you.”
“We could have sex before and after,” he said, reaching for her.
“I’m too hungry. Go get changed, then we can eat. You’re a bit late.”
“Yeah, had some problems at work.”
“Poor thing. Go change and meet me in the kitchen. You can tell me all about it.”
Heather was in the kitchen, congratulating herself for running. This was so cool. Gary would never know that it had been her at Melvin’s. Whew, dodged that bullet!
“Honey?” Gary called out.
“Yeah?”
“Could you come here a minute?”
“Sure. Just a sec.” Heather put down her wineglass and went to her bedroom. Gary had changed into sweats and black t-shirt. He looked so hot!
“What is it?” she asked, walking up to him.
“Hey, look what I found,” he said, handing her a small plastic object.
She looked at it. It was her Godzilla key ring. She’d spent a full hour searching for it that afternoon.
“God, I’ve been looking all over for this, where did you find it?” she asked.
The look in his eye changed. It darkened.
“What? Where did you find it?” she asked.
“At 4545 Willow Avenue,” he said as his mouth grew tight.
Heather felt like someone clubbed her over the head. She got dizzy. She had to sit. She collapsed on the bed. It was over. Over and done with.
©2010, Michelle Carlyle
Friday, August 6, 2010
Her Secret Life, Part One
Hey Spanky Friends!
How’s it hangin’? I’m doing great. I’m just totally, utterly, one-hundred-percent SICK of entertaining. Since it’s one of my favorite pastimes, I’m surprised. After my guests left last Sunday, I was a lot happier than I should have been. I couldn’t figure out why I was bummed and then realized I’d spent two solid weekends of cooking, cleaning and serving. I love sharing my house and hanging out with my friends, but I’m done for awhile. Thank God, we’re not entertaining this weekend. This is a picnic-at-the-beach weekend. Yay! Date with the Hubby!
Okay, so that fucktastic marathon my hubby and I were having DIED. We haven’t had sex in a week. We both had sex dreams last night and promised ourselves we’d summon the energy to continue our fun tonight. Problem was we wore ourselves out with entertaining and were too wiped this week to have sex. Which is the number one reason we need to stop entertaining so much. Lesson learned.
So today we start with a new/old story called Her Secret Life, found in Bad Girls 3. This story came from a vanilla novel I wrote a long time ago. The male lead is based on a character I wrote about ten books for and never published. A hardassed FBI agent with a crazy girlfriend. This was before I was purposefully writing spanking fiction. When all my novels ended up with a spanking for the heroine. Which is why they were never published. Thank God, I found Discipline and Desire and a whole audience of people who actually loved the spanking scenes.
Actually nearly ALL of my spanking stories come from my vanilla novels. As I’m writing, spanking ideas will come up and I normally have two story lines going with the same characters. The main story goes into the novel and the side stories go to the spanking fiction. Gerry and Rob are exceptions (the prankster woman) and a few others, but mostly my story ideas and characters come from my novels. Sometimes I split the characters and develop two different people. Like sort of the same person with different aspects of their personalities highlighted. For instance, I work with two Zane Blacks (I need to do something about the names…), Zane Black-The Spanker/Rocker and Zane Black, the special ops guy. Both look the same, talk the same, have the same heart and moral character, but they have very different occupations, backgrounds and…predilections, if you know what I mean. I wonder what will happen when I finally sell a vanilla novel. I’ll have to own those characters or change some names or something. Anyway, no worries for right now.
Okie-dokie. I hope you all have a spiffy weekend.
Hugsnlove,
Michelle
As Heather sat there, smoking a big bomber of a joint with her connection, she finally took in her surroundings. Her friend was a paranoid nutcase. She’d known him since high school, but Melvin had been slipping further and further out into the outer fringes of society. He had newspaper clippings all over the walls of his living room, some with huge red circles around the headlines. The books covering his coffee table ranged from manuals on how to build a trebuchet to getting off the power grid to military manifestos written by South American dictators.
“So when are you building the bunker?” she finally asked the large, pasty-faced man sitting in the recliner next to her.
His large brown eyes practically popped out of his head. “How did you know about the bunker?” he demanded, sitting upright in his chair.
“Dude, dude, calm. I was kidding. I’m just a bit worried about you, man. You… this isn’t good, all this reading of yours,” she said, gesturing towards the coffee table.
“But Heather, the world is coming to an end, soon,” he replied earnestly. “And the government is behind it.”
“Honey, have you thought about therapy?”
“Therapy placates the masses and makes you all comfortable with this commercialized hell the planet has become. I don’t want anything to dull my senses,” he said, taking a huge hit off the joint.
“Nice irony, there,” she replied, taking the joint from him.
“Marijuana sharpens my mind. I can think more clearly, see through all the distractions the government is bombarding me with. The iPod? Do you really think they’re playing all music? Subliminal programming, they all come with subliminal programming that makes us want to buy more stuff. And TV now? They’re sending two programs during most prime time viewing, they send the show or whatever, the Simpsons then in images we can’t even perceive, they are sending us messages to go out and spend ourselves into oblivion.”
“I can see those images. They’re called commercials.”
“You always were a naysayer, Heather. You gotta open up your eyes and your mind, girl. They’re subverting us.”
“Oh, I feel subverted. This stuff is strong. Here, you finish it. I gotta be straight soon. Seeing my new boyfriend later.”
“Are you still lying to him?”
“Of course. He’d bust me. Maybe not, but he could. He doesn’t know about this whole other life of mine. He thinks I go to some cubicle in the city to work, he has no idea I’m one of the most successful erotica writers in the country.”
“I think he started dating you to get to me.”
“He doesn’t even know you. Or know that I know you.”
“I think you’ve lost your mind with this one, Heather. The biker, I understood. The shoe salesman, I understood.”
“He was hot.”
“I even understood when you went out with the hacker.”
“He was cute in a sort of wild-coffee-addict-never-sees-the-light-of-day way.”
“But what I cannot fathom is this new flirtation with the dark side,” Melvin said.
“He’s cute as hell and an awesome lay. What more could I need?”
“Someone who didn’t have the power to arrest you,” he responded acidly.
“He wouldn’t,” Heather scoffed. “Besides, he’ll never find out about me. Or you. Or anything I don’t want him to. We’ve been going out for three months and he still doesn’t know anything about me. And I’m gonna keep it that way.”
“A relationship made in heaven. The guy doesn’t even know you. And this doesn’t say anything to you? Trust in a relationship? Mutual respect? How can you say he loves you when he doesn’t even know you?”
“Oh, he knows all the important parts.”
Melvin snorted. “I’ll bet.”
“No, not those parts. Its not like I change personalities around him. He knows I like cartoons and I collect weird action figures. He knows I ride a motorcycle and I like to hike. He’s met my parents.”
“That’s not saying much, they haven’t known anything about you since you were twelve.”
“I couldn’t tell them I was dealing. Or that’s how I worked my way through college. Or that I write erotica. They think I’m a computer programmer.”
“What does he think you do?”
“He thinks I’m a technical writer.”
Melvin burst out laughing. “You don’t know the first thing about technology.”
“I can use my computer.”
“Only because I keep updating everything for you.”
“Yeah, well.”
“I don’t know. So what kind of cop is he again?”
“FBI, baby.”
“Damn, girl. When you travel on the dark side, you go all the way.”
“Don’t I know it. If he weren’t so cute, I would have dumped him by now. And he’s so nice. It’s actually frightening what a goody two shoes the man is. I hope he never finds out about me.”
“What if it gets serious?”
“Serious. Who, me?” Heather asked.
“Yeah. You.”
“Never occurred to me.”
“Are you in love with him?”
“Hell yeah.”
“And he loves you.”
“He says so. He acts like it. I’ve met his parents and everything.”
“So? Doesn’t this say anything to you? What if he wants to marry you?”
“Marry me? Me?” She laughed. “No man has ever dared to tread that path with me. I think he’ll come to his senses eventually and leave me. That’s what they all do. Well, either that or I leave them. Marriage, ha. I’ve never even been proposed to yet.
“What about Mike? And Jack? And Daniel?” Melvin corrected.
Heather waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, those didn’t count.”
“Why not? They were marriage proposals.”
“They didn’t count because I didn’t love them.”
“So what if this guy asks you to marry him?”
This stumped Heather. “I don’t know. Never gave it any serious thought. I just figured he’d dump me. I don’t know.”
“How old are you now?”
“Don’t ask,” Heather said.
“You have to be my age, like, thirty-three.”
“I don’t want to think about it. It makes me think that I have to be serious about my life and I don’t like being serious. So, no, I’m not gonna think about it. Besides, I like him too much. That’s always a sure sign they’re gonna dump me.”
“I hope you’re right. FBI. Just gives me the willies thinkin’ about it. Oh, have I told you about my new blog?”
“No, what one is this about?”
“About assassinating the president.”
The words reverberated through her head.
She stared over at her pasty-faced friend. “Are you nuts?”
“I want those bastards to wake up and realize that there are some of us who just won’t take their crap anymore.”
“Melvin, when did you start this blog?”
“About three days ago. Man, did it take off. Thousands of people commented on it. I’m finally getting the attention I’ve been needing. Now that I’ve got a platform, I’m gonna be tackling all the big subjects. How Russia is still controlling the planet, how antiperspirant causes brain damage—“
“I was wondering why you smelled so funky—“
“How those black helicopters are starting to follow major corridors of traffic, a sure sign the government is planning to implement martial law. Then I’m gonna launch into how our money is poisoned with a secret toxin that makes us want to eat junk food. You know the biggest threat we’re facing on our planet?”
“Trans fatty acids?” Heather guessed.
“No, Chinese fast food joints. Think about it. They start in, they’ve got tons more people than the US does. If they start shoving their food down our throats, we’ll be slaves to them and their ideals. It will all go down hill from there.”
“You’re making me hungry. Man, some Kung Pao Chicken would be really good about now.”
“You are hopeless.”
Heather laughed. “Melvin, you gotta get out more, man. You spend too much time cooped up in…” A man outside the house caught Heather’s attention.
“What?” Melvin asked.
“That guy getting out of that car across the street. He looks just like Gary.”
“Where?” Melvin asked. He turned around to look.
Heather pointed. “See that guy with that other suit? I swear, he looks just like…”
It suddenly slammed her. Melvin’s blog.
“Holy Moly! Melvin! It is Gary! He’s coming here to question you! I have to get out of here!” she cried, leaping to her feet. She grabbed her bag of pot, shoved it in her pocket and headed for the back door.
©2010, Michelle Carlyle
How’s it hangin’? I’m doing great. I’m just totally, utterly, one-hundred-percent SICK of entertaining. Since it’s one of my favorite pastimes, I’m surprised. After my guests left last Sunday, I was a lot happier than I should have been. I couldn’t figure out why I was bummed and then realized I’d spent two solid weekends of cooking, cleaning and serving. I love sharing my house and hanging out with my friends, but I’m done for awhile. Thank God, we’re not entertaining this weekend. This is a picnic-at-the-beach weekend. Yay! Date with the Hubby!
Okay, so that fucktastic marathon my hubby and I were having DIED. We haven’t had sex in a week. We both had sex dreams last night and promised ourselves we’d summon the energy to continue our fun tonight. Problem was we wore ourselves out with entertaining and were too wiped this week to have sex. Which is the number one reason we need to stop entertaining so much. Lesson learned.
So today we start with a new/old story called Her Secret Life, found in Bad Girls 3. This story came from a vanilla novel I wrote a long time ago. The male lead is based on a character I wrote about ten books for and never published. A hardassed FBI agent with a crazy girlfriend. This was before I was purposefully writing spanking fiction. When all my novels ended up with a spanking for the heroine. Which is why they were never published. Thank God, I found Discipline and Desire and a whole audience of people who actually loved the spanking scenes.
Actually nearly ALL of my spanking stories come from my vanilla novels. As I’m writing, spanking ideas will come up and I normally have two story lines going with the same characters. The main story goes into the novel and the side stories go to the spanking fiction. Gerry and Rob are exceptions (the prankster woman) and a few others, but mostly my story ideas and characters come from my novels. Sometimes I split the characters and develop two different people. Like sort of the same person with different aspects of their personalities highlighted. For instance, I work with two Zane Blacks (I need to do something about the names…), Zane Black-The Spanker/Rocker and Zane Black, the special ops guy. Both look the same, talk the same, have the same heart and moral character, but they have very different occupations, backgrounds and…predilections, if you know what I mean. I wonder what will happen when I finally sell a vanilla novel. I’ll have to own those characters or change some names or something. Anyway, no worries for right now.
Okie-dokie. I hope you all have a spiffy weekend.
Hugsnlove,
Michelle
As Heather sat there, smoking a big bomber of a joint with her connection, she finally took in her surroundings. Her friend was a paranoid nutcase. She’d known him since high school, but Melvin had been slipping further and further out into the outer fringes of society. He had newspaper clippings all over the walls of his living room, some with huge red circles around the headlines. The books covering his coffee table ranged from manuals on how to build a trebuchet to getting off the power grid to military manifestos written by South American dictators.
“So when are you building the bunker?” she finally asked the large, pasty-faced man sitting in the recliner next to her.
His large brown eyes practically popped out of his head. “How did you know about the bunker?” he demanded, sitting upright in his chair.
“Dude, dude, calm. I was kidding. I’m just a bit worried about you, man. You… this isn’t good, all this reading of yours,” she said, gesturing towards the coffee table.
“But Heather, the world is coming to an end, soon,” he replied earnestly. “And the government is behind it.”
“Honey, have you thought about therapy?”
“Therapy placates the masses and makes you all comfortable with this commercialized hell the planet has become. I don’t want anything to dull my senses,” he said, taking a huge hit off the joint.
“Nice irony, there,” she replied, taking the joint from him.
“Marijuana sharpens my mind. I can think more clearly, see through all the distractions the government is bombarding me with. The iPod? Do you really think they’re playing all music? Subliminal programming, they all come with subliminal programming that makes us want to buy more stuff. And TV now? They’re sending two programs during most prime time viewing, they send the show or whatever, the Simpsons then in images we can’t even perceive, they are sending us messages to go out and spend ourselves into oblivion.”
“I can see those images. They’re called commercials.”
“You always were a naysayer, Heather. You gotta open up your eyes and your mind, girl. They’re subverting us.”
“Oh, I feel subverted. This stuff is strong. Here, you finish it. I gotta be straight soon. Seeing my new boyfriend later.”
“Are you still lying to him?”
“Of course. He’d bust me. Maybe not, but he could. He doesn’t know about this whole other life of mine. He thinks I go to some cubicle in the city to work, he has no idea I’m one of the most successful erotica writers in the country.”
“I think he started dating you to get to me.”
“He doesn’t even know you. Or know that I know you.”
“I think you’ve lost your mind with this one, Heather. The biker, I understood. The shoe salesman, I understood.”
“He was hot.”
“I even understood when you went out with the hacker.”
“He was cute in a sort of wild-coffee-addict-never-sees-the-light-of-day way.”
“But what I cannot fathom is this new flirtation with the dark side,” Melvin said.
“He’s cute as hell and an awesome lay. What more could I need?”
“Someone who didn’t have the power to arrest you,” he responded acidly.
“He wouldn’t,” Heather scoffed. “Besides, he’ll never find out about me. Or you. Or anything I don’t want him to. We’ve been going out for three months and he still doesn’t know anything about me. And I’m gonna keep it that way.”
“A relationship made in heaven. The guy doesn’t even know you. And this doesn’t say anything to you? Trust in a relationship? Mutual respect? How can you say he loves you when he doesn’t even know you?”
“Oh, he knows all the important parts.”
Melvin snorted. “I’ll bet.”
“No, not those parts. Its not like I change personalities around him. He knows I like cartoons and I collect weird action figures. He knows I ride a motorcycle and I like to hike. He’s met my parents.”
“That’s not saying much, they haven’t known anything about you since you were twelve.”
“I couldn’t tell them I was dealing. Or that’s how I worked my way through college. Or that I write erotica. They think I’m a computer programmer.”
“What does he think you do?”
“He thinks I’m a technical writer.”
Melvin burst out laughing. “You don’t know the first thing about technology.”
“I can use my computer.”
“Only because I keep updating everything for you.”
“Yeah, well.”
“I don’t know. So what kind of cop is he again?”
“FBI, baby.”
“Damn, girl. When you travel on the dark side, you go all the way.”
“Don’t I know it. If he weren’t so cute, I would have dumped him by now. And he’s so nice. It’s actually frightening what a goody two shoes the man is. I hope he never finds out about me.”
“What if it gets serious?”
“Serious. Who, me?” Heather asked.
“Yeah. You.”
“Never occurred to me.”
“Are you in love with him?”
“Hell yeah.”
“And he loves you.”
“He says so. He acts like it. I’ve met his parents and everything.”
“So? Doesn’t this say anything to you? What if he wants to marry you?”
“Marry me? Me?” She laughed. “No man has ever dared to tread that path with me. I think he’ll come to his senses eventually and leave me. That’s what they all do. Well, either that or I leave them. Marriage, ha. I’ve never even been proposed to yet.
“What about Mike? And Jack? And Daniel?” Melvin corrected.
Heather waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, those didn’t count.”
“Why not? They were marriage proposals.”
“They didn’t count because I didn’t love them.”
“So what if this guy asks you to marry him?”
This stumped Heather. “I don’t know. Never gave it any serious thought. I just figured he’d dump me. I don’t know.”
“How old are you now?”
“Don’t ask,” Heather said.
“You have to be my age, like, thirty-three.”
“I don’t want to think about it. It makes me think that I have to be serious about my life and I don’t like being serious. So, no, I’m not gonna think about it. Besides, I like him too much. That’s always a sure sign they’re gonna dump me.”
“I hope you’re right. FBI. Just gives me the willies thinkin’ about it. Oh, have I told you about my new blog?”
“No, what one is this about?”
“About assassinating the president.”
The words reverberated through her head.
She stared over at her pasty-faced friend. “Are you nuts?”
“I want those bastards to wake up and realize that there are some of us who just won’t take their crap anymore.”
“Melvin, when did you start this blog?”
“About three days ago. Man, did it take off. Thousands of people commented on it. I’m finally getting the attention I’ve been needing. Now that I’ve got a platform, I’m gonna be tackling all the big subjects. How Russia is still controlling the planet, how antiperspirant causes brain damage—“
“I was wondering why you smelled so funky—“
“How those black helicopters are starting to follow major corridors of traffic, a sure sign the government is planning to implement martial law. Then I’m gonna launch into how our money is poisoned with a secret toxin that makes us want to eat junk food. You know the biggest threat we’re facing on our planet?”
“Trans fatty acids?” Heather guessed.
“No, Chinese fast food joints. Think about it. They start in, they’ve got tons more people than the US does. If they start shoving their food down our throats, we’ll be slaves to them and their ideals. It will all go down hill from there.”
“You’re making me hungry. Man, some Kung Pao Chicken would be really good about now.”
“You are hopeless.”
Heather laughed. “Melvin, you gotta get out more, man. You spend too much time cooped up in…” A man outside the house caught Heather’s attention.
“What?” Melvin asked.
“That guy getting out of that car across the street. He looks just like Gary.”
“Where?” Melvin asked. He turned around to look.
Heather pointed. “See that guy with that other suit? I swear, he looks just like…”
It suddenly slammed her. Melvin’s blog.
“Holy Moly! Melvin! It is Gary! He’s coming here to question you! I have to get out of here!” she cried, leaping to her feet. She grabbed her bag of pot, shoved it in her pocket and headed for the back door.
©2010, Michelle Carlyle
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