2018 Year in Review

It’s been an exciting year! From flash fiction to novellas, sadism to sweetness to survival, 2018’s roundup has a lot of range. As I observed back in June, Write 1/Sub 1 (er, no, it might not be as kinky as it sounds…) is an extremely effective way to get your words down on the page and out into the world. It did slow down toward the latter half of the year, in part because of my first-ever successful NaNo! And, for what it’s worth, three stories on this list–“The Solution,” “Manifesto,” and “Guessing Game”–include characters and/or scenarios I’m thinking of developing into novels (“Manifesto” is from my femdom NaNo piece, in fact).

A few last quick updates before we get into the stories: first, I confess, some of these are slated for early 2019 publication. But I’m excited about them, and given Escape to Pleasure has a January 1 release date, I think it’s fair to share now! For more complete lists of my published fiction, you can check out my Stories tab, my Year in Review tag, or my author profiles on Amazon, Goodreads, BookBub, or Smashwords (their year-end sale rules December 25-Jan 1). I also have a Newsletter for book release updates in your inbox!

And with no more ado:

 

 

“The Solution” in Dancing With Myself from Sexy Little Pages

Maybe he was going to her—his own other woman. In all our confrontation, I hadn’t asked if he was still seeing her.

The one who smelled of vanilla. Whose scent, rising from his skin as he curled around my body in bed, had started all of this. Not to be confused with my woman who smelled of vanilla, who I wasn’t seeing anymore either.

“Power” at Bare Back Magazine

I’m surprised the first time I feel it. I freeze up, as if in panic, but it’s the farthest thing from fear. The shock lasts only a microsecond, and I doubt you notice my stillness—of course, you’re kind of tied up at the moment, as the pun goes, no less true for being predictable.

“The Summer After” (Novella) in the Seattle Erotic Literary Festival Anthology

There was room enough in my queen-sized bed for us to settle without crowding each other. But we were on the verge of it. Sex, after all, involves some crowding. And here we were, two people who liked our space.

At first only our hands connected. Despite my impulse to touch him all over, to hold him, to cuddle, I was able to resist throwing myself onto him. I got the impression that, by keeping track of my hand in his, he was making sure of me. No sudden moves.

But one of us would have to make the next move. Since I started it, it felt like my responsibility—and my privilege.

Not to rub my greedy paws all over him, however much I wanted to. Instead I started by undressing myself.

I didn’t pull away from his hand to do it. While romantic in conception, in practice this became awkward. I got my sundress to slip down my shoulders and drew my free arm through the strap. With my breasts half-bared, I pulled up the skirt to reach my panties. At that point he let go of me, leaning back as if to watch.

I undressed in front of a mirror all the time; I knew how I did it. It didn’t look particularly sexy. I shrugged out of my clothes, rolled my shoulders and stretched my limbs as they were released. I luxuriated in nakedness, but I wasn’t showing off any one part of me, not even those most wonderful ones. I felt comfortable but I lacked the grace of a striptease. And my underwear and bra didn’t match. I’d dressed that morning for another hot summer day after the apocalypse, not for a seduction.

But he looked at me with wide and warm and admiring eyes, as if he was seduced. And his gaze was more than successful in seducing me. My mouth dried up as I became the center of his focus. Then he licked his lips, absently, almost innocently, and my mouth watered.

“What You Want” in Lust from Pure Slush

It gets to the point where you can’t even sit in the same room with him, because sooner or later your body and mind snap tight, contracting with what you want, an internal orbit around unspeakable things…

It’s one thing to say he’s so handsome you could punch him, but what do you really want?

Because it can’t be that.

Last night, when he took your ringing phone off the coffee table and handed it to you, his bent, broad shoulders and long, lean back and something about the points of his knees through his slim jeans made you want to make him crawl.

“Ripples” at Pink Litter (nsfw image through the link)

It’s a style I’ve come to associate with her, that flattering and sometimes deeply erotic modesty. She makes an art of it. I shiver with a memory of the night she opened her door in long-sleeved, loose and low-cut pajamas with jewelry glittering at her throat and wrists. Jewelry she didn’t take off with the rest. She makes an art of discarding modesty, too.

“The Season” with Circlet Microfiction (and on Circlet’s Tumblr)

He gets out of his chair and kneels beside hers.

She slows her rocking and reaches for him. One hand tangles in his hair to hold him for a brief kiss, tender. Her other hand runs along his shoulder, over his neck; her thumb beneath his jaw nudges his chin up. His mouth opens. As she releases his hair and draws the knife, his parted lips tremble, just slightly. The blade is cool against them.

…His eyes fall shut. Under his knees he feels the ancient boards whisper as she shifts her feet, planting them firmly with a final creak of the chair. The sound and that distantly felt thrum are the only clues to movement. The blade is a lynchpin fixing everything in place.

“Open your eyes,” she says.

“Fearless” in Best Lesbian Erotica of the Year, Vol. 3 from Cleis Press

With the apartment door locked behind them, they started undressing. Tessa tossed her hat onto the table by the door and wiggled out of her sundress, shrugging her shoulders through the straps that had left them bare and twisting her arms in movements which were unselfconsciously awkward. Jenny’s heart ached as she watched, as if it was constricted in a cage almost too small to let it beat. Then Tessa let the dress fall around her feet and stepped out of it.

A tan showed on the caps of her shoulders and her arms, and then a little less brightly on her neck and the tops of her breasts. Below that, everywhere she was normally covered, her skin looked cool, pale, both voluptuous and vulnerable. The surgery scars were fading.

Jenny took a step toward her only to realize she still wore shoes. She kicked her feet out of them, then pulled off jacket, tee, and jeans. Her stomach was cool with sweat, making the heat below even stronger. Her pulse beat between her legs as she approached Tessa.

When she was naked, Jenny always felt more powerful—paradoxically untouchable. It was almost as good as being transparent, like sunlit air, like water. She felt strong enough to say, “So… you want to do this?”

Smiling, Tessa reached for her.

“I know.” Blushing, she continued with her apology: “But…this? We could try another day.”

“I think we’ve waited long enough,” Tessa said. “I have.”

“Manifesto” in Cliterature’s Anthology issue

I don’t know where on the library shelves they keep the grown-up women’s versions of the stories I grew up reading. The mythology—Prometheus bound, Loki too, lots of heroic suffering and immobilization for that matter. Men sure take pride in their ability to withstand pain, and seem to have since the dawn of time. Maybe women have taken pleasure in the same for about as long. Oh, and the Hardy Boys! The moment I realized that every book would have at least one scene of them captured by the bad guys, tied up or imprisoned…

The Odyssey’s another great one. Our wily hero—let’s not forget all the paintings of him bound to a post before those Sirens—and his brave, if significantly dumber, crew keep getting waylaid, enslaved, befuddled, possessed by sorceresses and goddesses…

There’s a theory that the author of the Odyssey was a woman.

 “Like a Flash Flood” in Escape to Pleasure from Bold Strokes Books

 “Yes,” Kim said cheerfully. “I know what it looks like.” Rosa heard the smile in her voice as her girlfriend led the way in. “It’s called a slot canyon.”

Rosa was too dry and breathless to speak. She fell back a few steps to take it all in—yes, the two masses of rock, rusty peach and rose-brown whorls that looked almost soft in their undulating erosions, swept like the spread of full thighs, coming together, parted by only an intimate gap that led deep into the distance. The image had a certain crude yet sensual resemblance.

Also, in this position it framed a great view of Kim’s ass, the way it pressed her shorts as she strode right in.

 

“Not Quite an Antidote” in The Sexy Librarian’s Dirty 30, Vol. 3

“The traders who joined us after the rescue carried some surprising things,” Bela said.

“And yet I’m not entirely surprised.” He pulled her close again. “It’s a brilliant idea, Bela.”

She nipped his jaw. “You haven’t even heard my idea yet.”

“I hope I’ll get to watch you…” The words trailed off in a sigh as her kisses moved lower, eventually reaching the sweet spot where his neck joined his shoulder.

“That would be nice,” she whispered over his collarbone. “But you could participate, too.”

 “Guessing Game” in Erotic Teasers 

“I mean, it feels personal. I’m not sure if it is. Which is weird, right? Not that I don’t enjoy your company,” she added. “I like hanging out with guys. But women, too…”

Roland nodded. “Would you like to get a drink?”

“Sure.” Marisol smiled, but five minutes later she was frowning into her beer. “It’s just a guessing game, I guess.” A grimace at the echo. “But how did I get to be twenty-seven without knowing if I’m lesbian or straight?”

“There are other options,” Roland said.

She looked at him across the table. “Yeah. And it’s even more of a guessing game how people will react if you bring that up.”

“Well.” He tipped his glass toward her. “My boyfriend, my girlfriend, and I all fall on the continuum.”

Her eyes widened. Then her mouth did, showing teeth in a grin. “You have both?”

“They have me.” Maybe it was the beer, maybe it was the brightness of her smile and what it did to his heart jumping in his chest, but Roland decided to go all in. He pushed back his shirt sleeves and raised his wrists to show her.

 

Lastly, in 2018 Betina Cypher and I tried something a little different: a podcast! You can check out our 3 episodes of Smutty Storytelling here on iTunes, Player FM, and here on SoundCloud.