Naughty Poetry

This is how I write my poetry except I don't usually wear my shoes in bed unless I'm getting laid

Awhile ago, I promised a naughty poem. And then I didn't like the way it went when I first tried to write it, so I gave up and got back to writing novels, blogs, stories, and columns. I did return to the poem eventually though and it even did close to what I hoped it would. It's an English form sonnet although not Shakespearean because I didn't do iambic pentameter. Keep in mind though, I'm a novelist/columnist, and don't make any claim to be a poet. But, like most girls who spent a lot of their teenage years reading and writing angsty teenage poetry, I do still have the urge to sometimes jot down a poem. This is a lovely little sonnet about how often I've been hanging out horny at home, waiting for my girlfriend to get done with her classes so I can pounce her and tear her clothes off when she gets home. Who knew sitting at home all day writing and editing romance/erotica would have such a sexy effect on me? By the way, I wrote it on a funny page in my little inspirations poetry book if you check the prompt on the bottom. Enjoy!

A Question of Masturbating in a Relationship

After a nice long break from the world of blogging during my time back in California for Christmas, I’m ready to get back into the sex/relationship advice thing and I’ve got a great question from a Twitter follower that I’ve talked to in the past. It seems previous discussions have led to a relationship and now she’s finding new and interesting challenges.

Hello Sapphic Pixie. I corresponded with you on Twitter back on the summer briefly regarding an NSA relationship that was turning into a bit more. The sex was great and we continued on a sex-only basis for a couple of months.

I am butch and she is femme. I was sleeping with six women when I hooked up with her on a dating sight and was newer to town here. My sex drive is insatiable. I am 40 years old and could have sex four times or more a day if given the opportunity.

We are in love with each other now, and in a committed relationship. We both work at home, and I would take her at a moments notice and lay her down and fuck her at any time throughout the day if I could. That is just not possible, and I know that.  She of course is much more level- headed than I am because, even though she is very sexual and very sexually active with me, I am way over the top... And I realize this!

The problem here with my drive is that I am having thoughts of how I was having sex with many women when I met her--when I was getting off with several women because it was satisfying my sexual needs. But I am worried because with these thoughts of what I was doing before I met my love, comes fleeting thoughts of stepping out on her. That scares the hell out of me! I am, and always have been a faithful partner.

I masturbate sometimes several times a day; she knows that and is usually here when I do. I hate to do that with her here, because it’s hard for me to cum with her in the house, because I'm thinking it could be a woman or her rather than me doing it to myself, and I feel deprived. She doesn't mind that I do, and even encourages me to do so because she knows of my drive and of my fears of stepping out.

I don't know what to do. I love this woman and the sex is a big part of our relationship and how we met initially. Can you help me figure this out?

Let’s handout the easy, universal relationship stuff first since there is some in here to deal with. You mentioned not liking to masturbate while she’s home even though she says it’s okay because you’re having somewhat “unfaithful” thoughts in reference to self-pleasure. This is something you’re going to need to start getting over. You’ve got two things working in your favor here: 1-she’s cool with it and 2-thinking about other people while you get yourself off is COMPLETELY normal and in fact a relationship necessity. This is no doubt a hurdle for you because you’re probably not used to having this much shared intimacy with someone…yes, what you’re experiencing now is intimacy; what you were experiencing with the six or so women you were sleeping with before your relationship was just sex. There is a huge difference between the two.

And that’s probably where the real adjustment for you is going to have to come in. You’re not used to intimacy--you’re used to fucking. Everyone makes trade offs for relationships. Intimacy comes with a price. But it also comes with some pretty fantastic rewards. Is she ever going to sexually satisfy you in the way six women can? Of course not and it’s ridiculous to think any woman could! But that’s not what she’s offering you. She’s offering you some sex, by the sounds of it a reasonable amount, that comes with an emotionally fulfilling aspect. She’s also offering you companionship, support, love, real closeness, and even some latitude to take care of your biological desires on your own as they arise. Let me make this clear:  this is a good woman offering you a good deal. Do not make the mistake of thinking you’d be better off stepping out on her with six girls because you’ve got an itch you know you’re able to scratch yourself (with help form her).

Take a second to figure out this picture and how hot it is.

Sex drives don’t match up perfectly. Your chances of finding a girlfriend who is everything you’re looking for, as this woman clearly is, with a sex drive to equal yours…you may as well start playing the lottery because you’ve got a better chance of winning that than finding that kind of woman. Adjust your expectations of what is possible. You say you love her, you say she’s special, you say she does her best to satisfy you sexually and then let’s you help yourself when she can’t--that’s a fantastic deal!

Let me address the high sex drive thing though because that’s an issue women don’t really get to talk a lot about because we’re allegedly not supposed to have high sex drives without also picking up bullshit labels like “nympho” or “slut” or whatever the hell double standard nonsense the patriarchal hegemony is trying to put on us to make us feel ashamed for acting right and normal. Having a high sex drive is a blessing, believe me, but it only turns into a curse when you go thinking sex is the best you can do when it comes to another person. You think about other people when you touch yourself and worry that it’ll lead to stepping out? Let that worrying keep you at home and you go ahead and think of whoever you want when you’re having your private time with yourself.

This is Molly Cavalli. She occupies a huge place in my fantasy/masturbation for obvious reasons.

My girlfriend and I have a very healthy sex life, but she’s been a lot busier lately with her graduate degree program and other job stuff, so I end up spending a lot of time alone and a lot of time masturbating when I’d probably rather have sex. The thing is, I know that there’s nothing out there sex-wise that’s going to be worth risking my relationship for. The two things simply aren’t equal. Six fuck buddies will NEVER be as good as one good girlfriend at home. So, yep, I masturbate to keep myself happy because it’s what reasonable, rational people do when they’ve got extra desire and drive left over. And you know what, I think about a whole slew of things that aren’t my girlfriend. Because that time is me time and it’s perfectly normal and reasonable to have your imagination and best vibrator satisfy desires that might otherwise have you chasing girls and ruining your relationship. For fuck’s sake, that’s what porn is for! That’s why I write erotica! So people who need some masturbation material can take care of themselves without expecting their partner to satisfy their every need. Find what turns you on, think of whoever you want, and go to town knowing you have her blessing to keep it at home.

This is Jelena Jensen who works for Girlfriends Films sometimes...also obvious why she spends time in my fantasies.

Take a step back, and this goes for all the ladies in relationships, and realize that your partner can’t satisfy every urge/need/desire you have. It’s simply not possible for one person to handle absolutely everything for you. You’re still going to need friends for companionship, family for added unconditional love, pets for nurturing possibilities, and in the case of sex, you’re going to need plenty of fantasy material, a good vibrator (which you can find by using my guide here and graduate to advanced usage with my guide here), and your own two hands. Getting a girlfriend doesn’t mean your every need will suddenly be taken care of by her. You’re still going to have to masturbate sometimes, but isn't that a good thing too? I mean, the fun you can have in your head can include women you haven't even met doing things you may not actually be capable of if it's all in fantasy land.

Strap-ons: Tricks and Techniques

This is my kind of strap-on!

 Strap-ons:  Tricks and Technique

I keep forgetting this is supposed to be a sex advice column, and while I have a lot of fun talking politics, feminist issues, and more vanilla relationship advice, I can’t ignore that the blog is called “Erotic Answers.” My guide to buying strap-ons was one of the most popular blog posts I’ve ever done and so I thought I’d do a follow up post explaining what you should do with one of these things once you’ve found it, or, if you’ve already figured out a few tricks you like, some new things to try. After all, what’s the point of going strapped if you don’t really know how to use it?

I’m also fond of reminding everyone that my qualifications for being a sexpert and relationship advice columnist is actually the fact that I’m a romance/erotica author who has successfully maintained a healthy relationship for many years. I’m not a doctor of the MD, Ph. D, or even DDS variety (can you imagine a dentist’s sex advice column? “Butt Floss More!”), although I do have my degree now, which I didn’t have when I started this shin dig. Of course, it has nothing to do with mental health or medicine:  English with a writing emphasis and minors in political science and women’s studies, which isn’t super important since I don’t need a degree in English to be a writer—I mean, Vonnegut’s degree was in chemistry and Hemmingway didn’t even go to college, so if the boys can do it, why can’t I? Anyway, where was I going with this…oh, right, I’m an author and not a counselor so I’ll be using my fiction to illustrate the points about strap-ons. Technique and accuracy are both important to me, so trust me when I say I have tried every strap-on scene in my works (in one way or the other if you catch my meaning) and I know they’re all not only possible but potentially fun!

Disclaimer: I’m not going over the lesbian purist issues with strap-ons in this post. I covered that in the first one. My stance continues to be:  strap-ons aren’t cocks and don’t make someone less of a lesbian simply for wearing or being fucked by one.

“Lucy’s concerns about much of anything completely melted away when Sasha aggressively bent her over the end of the pool table, holding her chest flat against the green felt with her pencil skirt bunched around her waist and panties around her ankles. Sasha’s favored strap-on, which fit beautifully over her slender hips in the tight jeans, had a little arched knob at the top, designed to tickle Lucy’s clit if they were facing each other, but in the bent over, from behind position, actually vibrated and knocked at her backdoor with every powerful thrust her vampire girl made into her. Lucy screamed in delight as Sasha ravaged her, each scream brought either a tug on the back of her ponytail or a sharp swat on her increasingly red behind. It felt like a proper send-off for the pool table nobody had ever used.

Lucy climaxed again for what she thought might have been the fifth time. An aggressive sweat rose on her skin, adding an additional sting to the harshly spanked red of her behind, and she felt her legs weaken to the point of giving out. Sasha, intuiting that Lucy wouldn’t hold herself up much longer, grasped Lucy’s legs, swept them off the floor into her hands and moved her into a modified wheel-barrow position that Lucy knew would leave rug burns from the pool table felt across her forearms, but couldn’t imagine a reason why she would care.”

This excerpt is from “The Last Best Tip” and illustrates several really important points about going strapped while standing.

Clothes can not only look good with your "accessory" but also help hold it in place!

First and foremost, you’ll notice Sasha is wearing her strap-on over her jeans. This is actually kind of a neat trick considering denim holds straps better than bare skin and provides padding to prevent chaffing in the wearer during, vigorous thrusting. If you haven’t tried your strap-on with clothes, you might give this a try, especially if you’re having trouble keeping it in place comfortably.

Secondly, you’ll notice this particular strap-on has a clitstimulator—it’s like the rabbit part on rabbit dildos, but fits a strap-on harness. These are spendy and difficult to use, and, as you see in the scene, point at other things if you switch positions. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing though. I’m personally a fan of light playing in that area, and it’s an avenue of pleasure a lot of people don’t give full credit to. Obviously good hygiene and diligent toy washing becomes even more important if you’re going back there and never never never never go from back door to front door—you’re likely to get a really bad infection that way. Still, the little vibrating rabbits meant for clits can feel nice if you switch to from behind positions and of course there are strap-ons that have special attachments specifically for simultaneous anal play.

Thirdly, there’s the modified wheel-barrow position. This requires an appropriately heighted sturdy surface and an athletic partner capable of holding up your legs. Turns out, a pool table does work for my girlfriend and she is strong enough to…you get the picture. Anyway, focus on the right height, sturdy enough to hold more than half your weight, and a girlfriend who is physically capable for this one.

Technically, this has stuff for the wearer and would probably stay in place, but...

The next piece comes from Demons of Paradise:  “…she next found herself lying flat on her back, panting and moaning, with Vendela straddling her, riding almost in slow motion, the front of her kimono falling open on occasion to show her perfect white breasts, which might have been carved of marble for the smooth sheen they boasted. When Brooke reached up to touch them as Vendela rode smoothly up and down on her strap-on, she found the breasts ice-cold, but absolutely perfect in every other way.”

There are theories out there about breasts being grown to promote face to face coupling, and even though that’s evolutionary preposterous, it’s kind of believable considering how awesome breasts are. Regardless, face to face really is the best for a lot of things. Specifically, in this case, if you have a strap-on with interior items for clit stimulationon the wearer, and believe me they are worth a try. On top, or cowgirl, position can really be good for both partners with the right toy making it a one star on difficulty and five star on pleasure. The trick is to find the right position and place for both people to get something out of it, but not necessarily at the same time, although at the same time is amazing. Did you know vaginas are angled differently depending on the individual women? Strange to think of, but it’s true. A position that works for one woman on top won’t work for all women on top because we all have different angles inside, so focus on finding which one works best for you. And, if you’re the cowgirl in this position (and you definitely should at least try it once) don’t be afraid of getting grindy—that’s what will help your partner have fun if you have one of those special strap-ons with clit stimulation on the inside.

Obviously this is varsity level strapping

 “Even as Fiona was getting used to the sensation of wearing such a thing, something she’d never done before, Veronica was busy mentally checking off things on her list. She pushed Fiona against the pillar, fell to her knees, and began giving the most lurid blow job Fiona could have imagined, taking the enormous, red phallus in her mouth with inexperienced verve. The strap along the back, just above Fiona’s ass, scraped and rubbed against the wall with every plunge and sloppy sucking motion Veronica made. There was little in the way of physical sensation to the blow job for Fiona, but the visual, auditory, and energy components shifted her thinking from survival to sexual ends. When Veronica had satisfied her curiosity, she’d climbed Fiona’s body, her lips made rosy from the work, an ineffable smile on her face, having checked off something she’d never done and didn’t want to die without knowing. “Some of the girls talk about how great that is,” she’d said. “I had to know.”
            “Oh,” Fiona had replied breathlessly.”

This excerpt comes from The Gunfighter and The Gear-Head in which Fiona and Veronica are sure they’re about to die, and start doing some naughty things so they at least don’t die wondering. And, this probably sounds strange to the uninitiated, right? Two women, one toy, nobody getting anything physical out of the act of a blow job, so what’s the point? Sure, there aren’t pleasure nerve endings in the strap-on or the mouth really, and even if you have one of the aforementioned strap-ons with the internal clit stimulation, this isn’t really the best way to make use of it to be honest, so why would you try this?

I’m a firm believer that the largest erogenous zone on a woman is the mind. Sure, sure, the clit is a wonder with twice as many nerve endings as the penis, and don't get me wrong, that should be taken care of too, but mental stimulation makes all the other erogenous zones run when it comes to women, and that is what the point of this is. It can be sexy to watch as the receiver and naughty to try as the giver. There are the functional benefits of spit being a good lubricant as well, and unlike straight girls, you can quit whenever you want since there isn’t a possibility of completion (for reals, I get all I need to from this on either end within 30 seconds so don’t feel like this needs to be a big part of anything). Try it for fun, not because it’s a technically sound way to stimulate anyone, but because it might hit a mental note with one or both of you, and as I’ve already pointed out, this won’t hurt your lesbian credibility because strap-ons aren’t cocks.

See how feminine these things really are?

 The last example comes from Lesbians in Space:  Astral Liaisons in which Captain Val and her girlfriends (yep, plural) are in a position called exponential decline by the mathematically inclined one:  “The angle Jesse took with the toy, timed to perfection on every thrust, pressed down against the soft little bundle of nerves inside Val with expert precision. The pleasant sensation of being filled quickly built to something else. The swell of desire building inside Val grew exponentially with every subsequent thrust across her g-spot until a rolling wave of gratification washed through her, raising the hairs on the back of her neck. She barely recognized her own muffled groan of pleasure with her mouth still firmly suctioned to Jane’s clit.”

Judging from some of my stories, the assumption out there is that I probably have lots and lots of group sex, but the truth is, I’ve never had so much as a single threesome. You know that triple kiss thing mentioned in Fabled Fang Girls? Yep, never done that either. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t a good fantasy or fun fodder for reading material. And if you are one of those people having lots and lots of group sex, that’s cool too.

The information to take away from this scene, which is basically just modified doggy-style with a little oral sex added to the other side, is the g-spot stimulation. Not everyone has a highly sensitive g-spot or can climax from g-spot stimulation alone, which is fine, but it’s pretty darn hard to stimulate the big G without help from a toy, and strap-ons with the right positioning can do a fine job of it. This is going to require communication to get right though. Being on the receiving end of this, you have to let your partner know when she’s found the right spot since, as I pointed out before, we’re all angled a little differently. This doesn’t have to necessarily be an, “Oh, right there!” declaration, although it certainly can be. If you want to work out nonverbal cues like the ladies in the scene did, that’s fine and will help your partner learn to read your sexual arousal far more quickly than trial and error will. This isn’t really an effective position for clit stimulation for the person going strapped, even with the specialized kind. But that can be a good thing too since the person wearing can focus entirely on finding the right angle, which I’m guessing is something straight girls don’t get as much of. So if you’re the one going strapped, focus on finding the exact right way to do this by taking cues for when you’ve hit the right angle to find the g-spot.

Those aren’t the only instances of strap-on use in my fiction, but I thought those were the most useful teaching examples. Hopefully you’ll have a few new tricks to try with your strap-on, or good motivation to go out and buy one if you haven’t already. I’m encouraging my readers to post in the comments how these things worked for them, or if you want to post your own techniques and tricks as well, feel free to do that!

Fabled Fang Girls

She's only evil on the outside...and probably on the inside too.

I coined a phrase for my most recent collection of short stories. I had to. There just wasn't a word befitting the rabid (bloodthirsty even?) female fans of vampires in existence right now. So I made one up. Fang-girl! It's a play on words for "fanboy" which is a description of an obsessive male fan of nerd culture. With all the "Team Edward" nonsense around Twilight, I felt we needed a similar name to reflect our fanaticism. I can just hear my readers now, "But Cassandra, you're a lesbian goddess who has repeatedly pointed out that Robert Pattinson looks like he probably smells really bad" and you're right, I am a lesbian goddess who has said that on many occasions, but just because I'm not into Stephanie Meyer's version of a "vampire" doesn't mean I'm not into vampires. The vampires I'm into don't walk around in the daytime seducing boring high school girls (or play baseball in thunderstorms like doofuses) and they all have breasts--the last part is probably the most important bit.

See what I mean about the breasts part being important?

So in celebration of my newest collection released under the Sapphic Pixie Tales label, I'm going to give you a sneak peak at one of the stories along with the usual rundown from the book jacket. Enjoy!

Fang Girl - noun – a female fan of vampire media who might be a little obsessive in her fandom.

[Derived from modern slang fanboy but always in reference to females. First used by Cassandra Duffy in Fabled Fang Girls]

Cassandra Duffy, an emerging voice in lesbian literature, releases her third short story collection, Fabled Fang Girls in a transparent attempt to satisfy the vampire addiction of her readership. Eight short stories of vampire lust and love revisit characters from Demons of Paradise and introduce new stories of lesbian sex and relationships.

“The Princess of Castle Eclipse” – a beautiful fairytale of doomed love in the tragic tradition of European fables.

“The Witch of Vigil’s Grove” and “Return to Vigil’s Grove” – two pieces of an upcoming novel that offer a chilling introduction to the town of Vigil’s Rest where a vampire haunts the forest, luring young girls to their doom with promises of forbidden love.

“The Last Best Tip” – the critically acclaimed novella finds a new home in this collection. Grifts, swingers, a sassy but irresponsible vampire and her underachieving girlfriend occupy a clever urban fantasy landscape where even eternal children of the night have money problems.

“From Nightshift to Swing Shift” – Vendela and Brooke are back! The vampire fashionista and her Australian girlfriend have hit a lull in their peculiar relationship and turn to a beautiful Persian executive to inject some much-need passion back into the couple’s sex life to keep out the Alaskan cold.

“Lovely Predators” – a brief look at the upcoming Noire style mystery novel of the same name that follows a talented Los Angeles homicide detective as she investigates a series of grisly murders that keep leading her back to the doorstep of her new girlfriend who is keeping a dark secret.

“Undead Housewives of the Other Orange County” – a farcical take on the Real Housewives television shows that interjects vampires and humanity to create a humorous story about what might really take place between bored housewives.

“Chains of Command” – a mixture of Duffy’s remarkable science fiction, paranormal romance, and hardcore erotica. Chains follows a vampire captain of a cutting-edge space warship who must break the will of her new executive officer during a long, deep space raid, but quickly finds the tables turned on her by the fiery and reckless, Commander Crash Langford.

Cassandra Duffy floods this collection with vampires, sex, horror, romance, action, and humor in ways that truly display the depth and range of her remarkable talent. Sapphic Pixie Tales is proud to offer this outstanding collection of vampire fiction from the 21-year-old lesbian author.

 

What surprised Brooke most about her relationship with Vendela wasn’t the length of it as she had a pretty high threshold for relationship bullshit; she was most astonished by how much she actually cared for Vendela. Her former boss and live-in girlfriend of more than a year was obtuse beyond reason and completely inept at expressing even simple things in a clear way, which pretty much precluded her feelings ever being communicated. The amount of guesswork required of Brooke to simply have a concept of the status of their relationship was profound. Still, for reasons she couldn’t articulate or fathom, she adored the peculiar little vampire fashion designer.

“Brooke,” Vendela said, snapping Brooke out of her dazed state. “Do you see anything that might fit Denise for the…what is she going to?”

“Possibly,” Brooke said, answering the first question first, “and she’s going to the Daytime Emmys.”

Brooke had lost all interest in fashion design after their second trip to Barrow Alaska. It wasn’t the mind-bending sex on the colossal bearskin rug that prevented her from wishing to one day be competition for her girlfriend, it was the fact that at her very best, which Vendela managed to draw from her, she was still miles behind what the petite vampire designer could manage with ease. So she shifted from design to fashion stylist; actresses, models, and singers flocked to her clientele, rightly assuming she would have exclusive access to Vendela’s fashion lines.

“Babe,” Vendela said, “you know how I feel about…television award shows.”

The short, clipped, peculiar way of pronouncing things was something that had once irritated Brooke to no end. Once Vendela started calling her ‘babe’, Brooke found she rather liked the way Vendela spoke.

“I know,” Brooke said. “I normally wouldn’t even ask, but I feel so bad for her. She’s on something like her third divorce.” Brooke selected a possible gown, holding it up to herself out of habit. The slinky, off-white cocktail wasn’t dressy enough for even a Daytime Emmy award show and was probably two sizes too small for Brooke’s personal use. “I swear my ass has doubled in size over the past few months,” she grumbled. Her statement, while an exaggeration at double, wasn’t entirely untrue. She’d lost a lot of her surfer physique by spending too much time working and too little time wave riding.

“I think your ass looks…like an apple,” Vendela said, crossing the cavernous clothing vault in a flash to stand behind Brooke. Her hand caressed down the small of Brooke’s back, onto the curvaceous ass in question, and gave it a playful squeeze.

The vampire trick of moving faster than the human eye could follow used to give Brooke the willies. After a year of Vendela doing that exact thing to her, she wondered if she would ever be able to date a human who couldn’t instantly cross a room to give her a compliment and grope combination.

Brooke replaced the dress on the rack and sighed. She was supposed to be shopping for Denise, but the more she looked at the beautiful clothes in Vendela’s line, the more she wished she could shop for herself or dress up the designer. Her overly elfin girlfriend adored the chunky jewelry, oversized sunglasses, and baggy clothes that made her appear even tinier, while Brooke loved seeing her in more fitted, daring attire. Their little tête-à-têtes usually ended up with Vendela wearing whatever she wanted and somehow Brooke ended up in the tight clothes.

“Award season is coming up,” Brooke said. “Care to be seen on the red carpet with me wearing something like this.” Brooke searched the immediate area as quickly as possible, finally deciding on a taupe straight cut gown that could easily be taken in to find Vendela’s lithe frame.

Vendela smirked, knowing the game well, and came back with a black, bow bodice pencil dress. “And you can wear this…or nothing…babe.”

Brooke stared down an entirely unreadable Vendela. She wasn’t smiling, wasn’t frowning, wasn’t breathing, wasn’t doing anything really aside from holding out the black dress that Brooke knew would flaunt every flaw in the figure she wasn’t particularly happy with anymore. The more she stared at Vendela, the more the latent vampiric power of mind control pushed a fine mist over her mind. She knew Vendela wasn’t doing it on purpose—it was just something that happened when she really wanted something. It had actually been what originally brought Brooke to Barrow, what made her pack her strap-on, and what started their whole tryst. Vendela hadn’t consciously exerted her mental control on Brooke those first few months. In fact, as she would explain later, she thought she was the seduced until Brooke had told her about the mental haze surrounding the majority of their feverish lovemaking. If Vendela’s mind was pushing out to cloud Brooke’s thinking, seeing her in that pencil dress was something the little fashionista desperately wanted, but wasn’t socially equipped enough to ask for.

“Deal,” Brooke said, much to Vendela’s surprise. Brooke took the dress from her to give it a closer look. “It’ll have to be let out quite a bit though.”

“No, it won’t…babe,” Vendela said. “It’ll be major, I promise. Trust me, I am an excellent judge of…your figure. I think you might have been Kim Novak in a former life.”

“Kim Novak is still alive,” Brooke said.

“Really? That’s…ba-na-nas.”

“Vendela?” Justin called from the doorway. “There’s a problem with the fit models not quite fitting.”

Vendela rolled her eyes and handed the dress to Brooke. Justin, the assistant that replaced Brooke, was a masterful organizer, a driven personality, an A-list gay in the fashion world, and a stunningly beautiful vampire. Brooke liked everything about him except his personality. There wouldn’t be any chance he would steal Vendela, but he also kept her running at a driven pace leaving little personal time.

Vendela vacated the room to check why what she was calling a size six didn’t fit an industry standard size six model. Justin, perfectly frocked in a vested pinstripe suit, made his way to Brooke to inspect the dress she was holding.

“60’s retro is in ever since all those TV shows decided we should glorify the days of segregation, lung cancer, and alcoholism,” Justin said. “The only positive side is the fashion.” He took the dress from Brooke and gently held it up to her with a far more objective eye than Vendela. “You’ll need to have the top padded. Or you could just get a boob job like everyone else in LA.”

“I’ll consider all the options,” Brooke said. The thing she disliked about Justin was how much of what he said turned out to be double-speak. The comment about a boob job could have been idle conversation, or it could have been something Vendela had said to him and he’d strategically decided to let it slip. Brooke could never tell.

“If you did, you might reignite the old sex life.” Justin hung up the dress. His comments weren’t usually that blunt, and it took Brooke aback a little to hear such candor from the fabulously catty vampire assistant.

“What do you even know?”

“I know she’s not having sex,” Justin said, “and now I know you aren’t either.”

It was true. Combined, their hectic work schedules left little time for intimacy and the time they did spend together had felt a little flat over the past few months. As much as Brooke hated to admit it, she probably needed Justin’s help.

“What do you know about fixing it?” Brooke asked.

“Besides the boob job?” Justin made a dramatic show of looking up while he thought. “You could always swing.”

For some reason Brooke’s mind immediately jumped to a swing-set and only then transitioned to imagining one of those hanging-from-the-ceiling sex swings. Clearly reading her thoughts, Justin intervened before her flawed train of though could evolve further along an incorrect line.

“No, silly, not literally,” Justin said. “I meant going out to another partner and then coming home to be reclaimed by her. You clearly need more sex than she does and it’s a fairly common vampire practice to send our little playthings out to other vampires so we might recapture them. Call it a latent hunter instinct.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Brooke said. Even still, the notion had set a fire in her that she was a little ashamed of, a little intrigued by, yet completely unwilling to verbally admit to.

“Is it?” Justin said, raising a perfectly manscaped eyebrow.

She knew he could read her mind. He knew that she knew that he could read her mind. The fact that they both pretended this wasn’t the case was out of simple human politeness, which made the socially acceptable white lie seem so hollow.

“Would Vendela even be interested in something like that?” Brooke asked.

“Maybe you missed the execu-bitch vice president of operations she hired,” Justin said. “I think she’s been planning it for months but hasn’t worked up the nerve to mention it to you.”

Brooke had indeed noticed the gorgeous Persian vampire Vendela had hired. Shabnam was elegant, officious, and a little like Vendela in that she was difficult to read. Brooke also wondered if she wasn’t a slightly more stereotypical vampire considering she dressed only in black and wore her eyeliner on the heavy side. Still, she was attractive, and some of her comments directed at Brooke could have been mistaken for flirting when fitted to the bizarre Vendela standards. Brooke began to wonder if peculiar, petite, and vampiric was becoming her type.

“How do I go about setting something like this up?” Brooke said.

“Tell Vendela,” Justin said. “She’ll fill you in on the rest.”

...and that's all you get. Of course, if you've read Demons of Paradise, you'll recognize Brooke and Vendela, but you'll have to buy Fang Girls to find out what happens next!

Character Evaluation: Captain Val

Character Evaluation:  Captain Val

What if cloning wasn't creepy?

              There are characters and stories I love that I want other people to love as well. One of those characters and stories is Captain Val in Of Pirates and Politicians found in Lesbians in Space: Astral Liaisons. The long story made short about where the entire story idea came from was I needed a clone story for the science fiction book and I was kind of into group sex fantasies at the time. From this kind of banal beginning, the story exploded in my head (no pun intended) and all of a sudden I’m thinking this could be a book, or a series of books even! There’s this cool, cult following for the story that I didn’t quite expect. Someone even made “Captain Val’s Girl” their login for Barnes & Noble (totally flattered by the way). It was one of the reasons I brought this idea to a pitch session.

            Pitch sessions (play on words for bitch sessions—and yes, that’s my term for it, publishers call it something else entirely, but I like pitch session) is when you take a bunch of ideas for your next project and you hurl them all at your editor’s desk and they tell you which one they like for your next project. Parlaying Of Pirates and Politicians into a book was one such idea, which they tossed out immediately. Astral Liaisons is the lesser selling collection of mine and a traditional space opera about a lesbian space pirate and her clone girlfriends seemed too antiquated/fan fictiony/cross-dressing Han Solo to my publisher apparently. Whatever. Someone named their website logins after one of my book characters—they can’t take that away from me.

            The one they ultimately ended up picking, which was ironically source materialed of Astral Liaisons as well, was The Gunfighter and The Gearhead. This I pitched with sample chapters and agreed to the promise that it could be done well in advance of Cowboys and Aliens. I kept up my end, but the movie flopped, and the publisher didn’t have the book ready for a coinciding launch anyway.

            The next project after that they approved is going to be Fabled Fang Girls, which is going right back to lesbian vampires. After that’s done, it’s back for another pitch session in which I plan to pitch Of Pirates and Politicians again. If you like Captain Val, and you’d like my October pitch session to go differently, you could give me a hand on the sales figures with a plug or review on Amazon or Barnes & Noble. Hard sales numbers and money always appeals to for profit companies.

            Anyway character evaluation stuff:

-                     I love Captain Val because she’s uncertain about her course, but she’s a captain so she should always appear certain, which gives her some great moments in misplaced confidence.

-                     The sex was fun to write, but I also wanted to write a clone story in which the clones weren’t carbon copies of each other (nature versus nurture) and where a polyamorous relationship seemed just as loving and normalized as a coupling.

-                     If I were to cast Captain Val in a movie, I’d pick Kristin Kreuk. The clones would probably have to be played by Grace Park with Meryl Streep’s brain.

Enjoy the excerpt and hopefully you’ll fall in love with Captain Val as well!

            Captain Valentina Dex was lost in thought. It was a remarkable thing that she could be lost in thought considering what was being done to her. She was reclined on her bed, propped up slightly by a few pillows. Jesse was kissing her in a soft, loving way. Jane had pushed the front of her shirt up and was licking her breasts while stroking fingertips up and down the flat of Val’s stomach. And Jill was between her legs, flicking her tongue over Val’s clit and slowly working a whirring, vibrating toy in slow, deliberate passes in and out of her, tilting it on the way in to vibrate along the underside of her clit. It really was just about the most amazing sexual act Val could envision for herself if she wasn’t completely preoccupied.

            Jesse seemed to pick up on her distraction first. She pulled back from the kiss and grimaced a little. “You’re not enjoying yourself,” she said. Jesse was special, after a fashion, being the only blond clone to date that Val had found.

            “I thought you liked this,” Jane added. She was one of two redhead clones.

            “I did, I mean, I do,” Val said quickly.

            “She’s thinking about her,” Jill said, slipping the toy out of Val and turning it off.

            “I think it’s romantic,” Jane said.

            “You would,” Jill huffed.

            “It’s not a romance thing,” Val said.

            “So you keep saying,” Jill said.

            Their personalities were all so different. Jill was the dark haired beauty with a propensity to brood. Jane was the sensitive romantic type. And Jesse played the peacemaker in all things, sacrificing her own comfort for anyone around her. If Val didn’t know better, she would assume they were sisters. Of course, they didn’t treat each other like sisters; in fact, with the exception of Jennifer and Jesse having one brief introduction at a marketing conference three years ago, none of the six clones had even met before Val brought them together. The three clones with the longer names—Jennifer, Jasmine, and Josephine, incidentally the three older clones, were all straight and not remotely interested in the fun and games Jesse, Jane, and Jill enjoyed. The seventh clone Val had found, also the youngest by seven years, was in the ship’s infirmary, pulled off a derelict ship the day before, and hadn’t awoken from her coma yet. The name tag on her flight suit had identified her as Joey, and the ship’s log indicated she was fourteen, which was about all the information they’d managed on her thus far.

            “We could do something else,” Jesse offered, “maybe play a game on the computer.”

            “Do you need something, Jesse?” the ship’s computer chimed in.

            “She was speculating on potential activities using the word computer as the indirect object,” Val snarled at the glowing blue eye set in the wall that was the computer’s primary sensor in her bedroom. She hated the ship’s artificial intelligence. It went by the name of ‘computer’ and so any reference to comp, CPU, or computer would immediately trigger its name recognition software. Plus, the default voice was set to incessantly-cheery, slightly-effeminate, British male.

            “If it bothers you so much, why don’t you just change its name?” Jill asked.

            “When I stole the ship, I didn’t exactly have time to ask the previous owner how every little thing worked,” Val said.

            “Screw it,” Jill said, “I’m going to go take a shower.”

            Val dove across the top of the bed, managing to snag Jill’s wrist before she could escape entirely. Jill regarded the sprawled out Val coolly. Aside from a few, minor alterations, all the clones had the same face that looked slightly reminiscent of Pacific Islander with a flattish, round nose, semi-slanted eyes, smooth cheeks, and a cute little chin. Jill tended to narrow her eyes a lot more than any of the other clones though, and had given herself tiny lines in the process.

            “I owe you,” Val said.

            Jill’s frosty demeanor melted some. She tucked an errant strand of her straight black hair behind an ear and smiled down to Val. “Pass mine on to them,” she said, nodding in the direction of Jesse and Jane.

            Val released her wrist. Jill walked out of the room via the j-shape entryway. That was one of the other peculiarities about the ship Val couldn’t quite understand:  there were no doors, anywhere. Privacy was accomplished by having curved or cornered entries into rooms without so much as a curtain anywhere. Val looked back over her shoulder to Jesse and Jane who were cuddled at the top of the bed, on the pile of pillows Val had formerly reclined on.

            “What did you two have in mind?” Val asked.

            “Exponential decline,” Jesse said quickly.

The Me in My Fiction

Writing isn't as easy as it looks.

I've been to a few writing conferences, taken more than a few creative writing classes, and read several books by fairly famous authors about the writing process (Stephen King's is good until he tells people how to wrap up a book quickly--do as he says, not as he's ever done), and one thing I've noticed is the wide variety of opinions on how much of yourself can go into a character before it stops being fiction and starts being a weird diary. Some authors say no more than 10% of any character can be you, some say zero for pure fiction (Bradbury for example), and other said next to nothing, but then later realized they were lying (King for example), and still other says a piece of them is in every character they ever wrote (Hemmingway). Or there's the idealized versions of self or the pessimistic versions of self people write in. Joseph Conrad told most of his stories through the voice of the man he wished he was: Charles Marlow, while Vonnegut wrote an example of himself, Kilgore Trout, if things hadn't gone well in publishing and had him run around failing at being a writer inside of Vonnegut's wildly popular novels. Stephanie Meyer all but beats us over the head with the fact that she is Bella Swan, but J.K. Rowling intimates the Harry Potter children are more like actual children for her.

Every time I hear a theory on this that I think I like, I inspect my own writing and come to the conclusion that my best material immediately contradicts what I wanted to believe was true of writing. Of course, that's probably just an irritating trait a lot of writers have with enough self-reflection and time to attempt real growth. I don't know what theory I subscribe to when it comes to 0-100% me in a character. I know I haven't gone to 100% and I'd probably be able to find at least a 1% in every character I've written. What I am interested in, after being asked what I thought about this, is why I put as much of myself into the characters that I did.

Top 5 characters I've written with the highest percentages of self:

#1 Gieo aka Stacy - Astral Liaisons / The Gunfighter and The Gear-head (story and novel) - 85-95% me.
The obvious stuff aside, being from Orange County, being socially awkward, being an outcast in high school, and being Korean (I'm part, she's full-blooded) this is the character I feel most like. Her sexual proclivities match mine in that I switch wildly from top to bottom at the drop of a hat or panties and her tastes in sexual acts almost perfectly mirrors my own. What really surprises me is how emotional I get when I write emotionally volatile scenes for Gieo. She's not a Bella Swan though as I don't envy her situation in the novel the way Stephanie clearly wants a 17-year-old vampire boy who sparkles in the sun, but I would put her as the most accurate depiction of myself in my fiction.

#2 - Dr. Holly Berri - "An Archeologist's Dream" in Demons of Paradise - 60-75% me.

I always pictured her as looking like Amy Acker

Even though the fantasy in the story isn't my own, it's actually something very sexy my girlfriend told me happened to her several times in high school short of the ending anyway, the character has a lot of my more eccentric personality traits. Holly is so professional in so many settings with this weird, kinky, spastic side right under the surface just looking for a reason for it to come out so she can do something bizarre. I think Holly actually looks forward to the end of the story when the world finally sees her for the goofy, impetuous person she really is. This mirrors me in real life--I'm far more respectable in person than I ever am online. Tweeples, Facebook friends, and blog followers get to see a side of me that is on a short-leash in real life. No secret mummy dream lovers for me to merge the two worlds though.

#3 - Clover - "Growing a New Garden" in Astral Liaisons - 60% meClover is the literary embodiment of my rebellious side. She is the freedom fighter I wish I had the courage (or capability) to be, but is completely enthralled by her lover (something I know all too well). Sexually, she has the same secret inclination to lose control, even if it means personal danger, with a desire to completely give in to pleasure in all its forms. The pollination room scene is from one of my favorite dreams of all time, but not particularly realistic outside of fiction or sleep. The vulnerability for Clover only comes into play when it comes to Nightshade and the myriad of ways she lets her lover control her sexually and emotionally. This easily manipulated position in a relationship is something I know all too well; I am the heart-on-the-sleeve girl and Clover's weakness is born of my own.

#4 - Lizette - "Of Love and Actual Demons" in Demons of Paradise - 50-55% me

Alison Haislip looks like I imagine Lizette

Lizette is actually a lot closer to my scene girl persona Lizzy Dark, which is why she made the list. She's petulant, selfish, and a little psychotic. What gives Lizette her appeal is actually her inexperience in the world and the wonder derived from learning about it. In the story, she's something of a psychopath, which I'm not (I don't think), but with a bizarre twist. Interest in small creature comforts is a huge trait Lizette and I share; I'm just not willing to go to the extents she is to get them.

#5 - Leilani - "Unimportant Important Things" in Astral Liaisons - 45% meI think Leilani more encompasses the feeling of complete awe I have around my girlfriend. Someone tall, beautiful, athletic, brilliant, talented, funny, interesting, organized, compassionate, popular, charismatic, and capable can really make everyone around them feel inept; being in a relationship with someone like that and being gone in love with them can drive a person downright crazy. This was what caught for me in this story. Of course, the resolution to this crazy feeling in the story probably isn't likely to happen in my reality, but the crazy feeling is similar. There's also just the lovely goal in life of being able to find someone to be silly with. the wavelength Leilani and Ivy are on in the story should be the goal of everyone in their love life. There's just something magical about being with someone who gets you.

According to some writers, I've gone well overboard in how much of myself I pour into my stories and according to others, I haven't gone nearly far enough. This was an interesting question about writing, and even though I'm probably not experienced enough to be an expert on the topic, I get the feeling my answer is fairly similar to the one a lot of more experienced writers would give. Frankly, I think it's unavoidable in some measure, but I also don't believe anyone can fully put themselves into a character because the vast majority of people aren't honest enough with themselves to truly put their true essence into a character without revision for the better or worse.

Being honest with you, my lovely readers, I am easy to find in the character listed above.

Shameless Self-Promotion Part 2

This is what we're calling vampires these days?

I'm not here to Twilight bash (okay a little I am). Let's just say I have written English Lit papers for genuine English Lit classes that deconstructed Twilight as blatant Mormon propaganda, and I did get A's on them. There are books out there, sadly written by women, that try very very very hard to keep women in subservient roles, sexualize what would be considered creepy behavior by guys in real life, and cram traditional gender roles down younger generations' throats with shitty writing. The only way out of this vicious cycle of bad "literature" (sorry, I just can't refer to Twilight as that without the quotations marks) reinforcing harmful stereotypes and behaviors is to STOP FUCKING BUYING IT!

Lesbians, honest to goodness rainbow flag wearing, Melissa Ethridge listening, After-Ellen trending, dykes can be found reading heterosexual vampire romance because...I don't know why. Modern, enlightened, feminist women, same thing, reading Twilight and rambling on about how they know it's bad, but it's just so dreamy/delicious/drain bramaging. My initial reaction to this was to say, "There's good stuff out there! You just need to look a little harder." Then I looked a little harder, and I was, for the most part, completely wrong--I hate being wrong, by the way, it really screws with the image I'm trying to create for myself of always being right. Lesbians especially had two choices, bad "lesbian vampire fiction" written by straight men, or hunting down the few, fairly poorly written indie options actually penned by lesbians, but not actually even up to Twilight quality control standards, if you can believe that. That was, until the indie publisher revolution that is ongoing. Sure, you might have to wade through some bad stuff, but suddenly, the market isn't dictated entirely by old, straight, white men at the Big Four (mentioned in the last shameless self-promotion blog).
Being a little ashamed of what was out there, and feeling like I could do better, I went ahead and put my money where my mouth was and wrote a book of paranormal romance. Demons of Paradise, available on Amazon and Barnes & Noble, is a collection of eight short stories, my usual amount per collection, all in the paranormal romance genre. I only included one vampire story, but, don't worry, I have a complete collection (of 8 stories again) dedicated entirely to fanged ladies coming out in the not too distant future.

Something I felt was missing in the vast majority of other similar fiction out there, especially the stuff written by straight guys, is the emotional context of sexuality and sexual encounters. Maybe this is just the soft and gushy, pink-n-frilly femme in me, but what's the point of sex if you don't have any emotional context? Twilight may have got this right...sort of...the theory of emotional context was there, but the emotions were shallow, pedantic, unrealistic, and spoken at the level of your average 13-year-old. What Twilight, and a good deal of erotica/romance out there fails to do, is come up with a story worth reading. Take out the romance, take out the sex, take out the weird scene where the vampire "family" plays baseball, and the story is...oh, right, there really isn't one at that point. Stories should be felt, experienced through all five senses (real writers realize things smell and sound like stuff), and follow a plot line FFS! I built my stories, from the ground up, to be stories, and then added sex, romance, and emotional context. Without knowing the basics of creating fiction, writers can really waste your time and money.

The most sexually active organ on the female body is the mind; this is true across nationality, sexual orientation, and age. Tickling the mind works far better than tickling the clit (although you should probably do both just to be safe). In Demons of Paradise, I'm going for my reader's mind, sense of humor, and heart--more or less in that order. I want entertainment value to go hand in hand with wet arousal.

It looks a little like this in my head.

So if writing stories that are actually stories is goal numero uno, and writing stories that appeal to women on the intellectual and emotional level and not just on the arousal level is goal the second, then the third and final goal is to give a bunch of page time to things that don't normally get page time in paranormal romance.

Like I said, I do have a vampire story with the vampire basically being an undead (redundant?) version of Rachel Zoe. I feel like enough people own the book now that I can let that little secret slip. Aside from setting up a continuation story in my all vampire collection, this story was also to show a different side of vampires that didn't involve sparkling in the daylight and chasing after high school girls.

Mummies, werewolves, ghosts, changelings, witches, angels, and demons round out the rest of the cast. There's a certain level of variety lacking in paranormal romance these days. Witches and werewolves often take supporting roles to vampires in a lot of fiction, but this in no way fully fleshes out the genre. I really felt like this was an opportunity a lot of writers were just skipping over. I love ancient Egyptian stuff, and think mummies can be really sexy, so I introduced one that was the star of her own story without any vampires to muddy up the Nile.

See? Isn't this a sexy alternative to vampires?

I get that vampires are the in right now, I really do, and I have a novel in the works that is almost entirely vampire romance and a collection that is entirely dedicated to our fanged friends, but for Demons of Paradise, I wanted the mosaic of paranormal romance to be on display in stories that were stories first and smut second. Be entertained, be aroused, be made to giggle while you read.