I'm leaving for New York next week to go to a writer's conference! I'm bringing my son with me and we're going to see a couple of Broadway shows (Jersey Boys and Wicked), along with as many museums as we can take it. My step-daughter(she lives in Philly) is going to visit us while we're there, too! I'll post pictures when I get back, but for now, here are some cool and classic songs.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Here's the first chapter of DEMONIC, my Aug. 2011 release. Beware! A few naughty words! It's an erotic romance.
An exclusive sex club where people either dressed up as supernatural beings or donned their best groupie gear . . .
Aeonian was a bizarre place, or so Jane Brooks had heard. But that was the point, wasn’t it? To go there and evaluate the hot and dirty weirdness? In her line of work it was called research. Jane was writing a piece for L. A. Underground, a publication that featured the spicy and often seedy sides of the city.
She stood in front of the gilded mirror in her garage-sale-gone-wild bedroom and smoothed her little shimmy of a dress. Beneath the silky taupe fabric, which plunged lusciously low in front, she was braless. Jane had never grown out of an A cup, leaving her lacking in the cleavage department, but at least she possessed perky nipples.
She glanced at the bedside clock. Her best gal pals, Emily Torres and Suzanne Quinn, were in the living room waiting for her. Jane was rarely ready on time. But they expected as much.
Returning to her primping, she studied her reflection. She’d pinned her auburn hair into a tousled twist and painted her lips a glossy cinnamon hue. With a critical eye, she slipped on a pair of heels the same color of her skin, then went into the living room.
Her friends sat on the couch. In tandem, they stood up.
“You look amazing,” Suzanne said.
“Thank you.” Jane more than appreciated the compliment.
Suzanne knew her stuff. She was an up-and-coming fashion designer.Tonight tall, blonde Suzanne was swathed in a candy-pink mini and a glorious tan. The shiny metal straps on the dress were made of big gold loops, and the formfitting, front- wrap bodice combined with a push-up bra gave her medium- sized boobs a boost.
Jane turned toward Emily. She was a properly behaved history teacher who was shy about showing off her assets. Although she had long dark locks and the curves of a Latina goddess, she’d done nothing to maximize the effect. A pastel headband kept her glorious hair from falling forward, and she wore a pair of jeans and a summer- print blouse, all buttoned up.
Jane said, “You realize that we’re going to a sex club, right? And we’re supposed to look like groupies?”
Emily responded, “Of course I know where we’re going, and I never should’ve let you two talk me into it.”
Suzanne chimed in. “It’ll be fun. Besides, we’re not going to participate. We’re just going to watch.” She waggled her eyebrows.“Like voyeurs.”
The brunette’s cheeks flushed. “I suppose I am a little curious about what sort of things they do there.”
Jane shot Suzanne a conspiratorial smile. They’d been trying to loosen up Emily for years. Or at least bring her out of her good-girl shell.
Tackling the wardrobe dilemma, Suzanne unbuttoned Emily’s blouse, where her bountiful breasts spilled out from a beige lace bra.
“There,” the designer said. “Now she looks almost as slutty as we do.”
“Almost,” Jane agreed.
From there, they dragged Emily into the bathroom and did a smoky number on her eyes. A coat of flaming berry lipstick followed. The headband went bye-bye and her hair was finger fluffed. After decorating her with glittering earrings, they forced her into icy blue pumps from Jane’s closet. The result was sex-kitten hot. But Emily wasn’t impressed. She squirmed at her wild unveiling.
“Someone is going to want to fuck me,” she said.
The horrified way she spewed the f-word made Jane and Suzanne laugh.
“You’ll be fine,” Suzanne promised. “Right, Janiac?”
“Totally fine,” she responded, as they left her apartment and climbed into her car.
Bound for decadence.
# # #
Emily sat in the backseat, fussing with the front of her blouse. She wanted to re-button it, but Jane and Suzanne would probably pitch a fit if she covered herself. She felt self-conscious dressed this way, and on top of that, her feet hurt. The shoes were a tad too tight.
The ladies who’d given her the makeover were doing just fine, laughing and talking and singing with the radio.
Silent, Emily quit tugging at her blouse. She wished she could be more like her friends. Jane was adventurous and imaginative, and Suzanne was trendy and sassy. The three of them had been college roommates, and even then, Emily knew she was the odd woman out.
Suzanne glanced over her shoulder. “You okay, Auntie Em?”
She nodded and forced a smile. Auntie Em, Janiac, and Susie Q. Their nicknames pretty much said it all.
As they traveled deep into the concrete jungle that was L.A., Suzanne went back to singing, and Emily returned to her nervous thoughts. She didn’t do well at regular clubs, let alone a place of this sort. What kind of people pretended to be supernatural beings? And what kind of people trailed after them behaving like groupies?
Anxious, she peered out the window. They weren’t in a populated part of the city. Downtown was weird that way. Some of it was isolated, particularly at night.
Finally Jane pulled up to the gate of an underground parking structure and put a keycard into the designated slot. Aeonian was a members-only establishment, and Jane had acquired the necessary guest passes, but then Janiac was clever that way.
Emily’s stomach went tight. She wanted to go home and watch something safe on TV, but it was too late for that. They parked and got out of the car. As they walked toward the elevator of the four- story industrial building that housed the club, the heels of her too- tight shoes hit the asphalt like bullets from a machine gun. The other women’s shoes echoed the same rat-a-tat-tat.
“What does Aeonian mean?” Suzanne asked Jane.
The writer responded, “Everlasting. Like heaven’s eternal bliss or hell’s perpetual fires.”
“That’s wicked cool,” the designer remarked.
Or just plain wicked, Emily thought. As they reached the elevator, a trio of well- statured men appeared from the other side of the parking lot.
Suzanne looked up and said, “Damn.”
Jane seconded the motion with a quiet, “No shit.”
Emily more than agreed. She almost expected a haze of fog to be floating around them.
None of the women pushed the elevator button. They merely stood there, gazing at the male figures. Even from a distance, Emily could see that they sported crisp white shirts, long-tailed jackets, vests, and boots.
Suzanne said, “I wonder if they’re supposed to be vampires.”
Jane hadn’t even blinked. “They don’t look all that pale to me.”
Suzanne keened out a little moan. “They’re coming this way.”
Emily stabbed the elevator button, hoping the men didn’t make it in time.
No such luck.
They arrived on the scene, greeted the women with interest, and waited for the elevator, too. Each man was handsome in his own right, and although they stood about the same height with similar builds, they didn’t look alike.
Except for their eyes.
Their irises were as black as midnight. Not that any fool couldn’t tell that they were wearing colored contact lenses, but the opaque shade created a haunting effect.
And to make matters worse, the pairing of partners had already begun, starting with the man on the right, who zeroed in on Jane.
That prompted the slightly dazed writer to ask, “Who are you guys?”
He responded in a sleek and sexy way. “I’m Marcus, and I’m a demon.” He motioned to his companions. “They are, too. We’re all immortal.”
Oh, Lord. As Jane introduced herself to Marcus, Emily whispered a prayer in her mind. This game wasn’t the least bit amusing. She’d been taught to fear the devil’s realm.
“What is a demon, exactly?” Suzanne asked, as the guy in the middle checked her out.
Marcus answered, “There are different breeds. Our breed descends from fallen angels. People sometimes think that all demons are fallen angels, but they’re not.”
As Emily shifted her feet, a different man, the one on the left, fixed his sights on her. He scanned the tops of her breasts, making his attraction to her known. She wanted to button her blouse more than ever.
He lifted his gaze, and they stared at each other. Chestnut hair fell across his forehead in wavy disarray and serious features lent him the intensity of a Renaissance man.
He said to her, “I’m Damien. And who might you be?”
“Em . . . Emily,” she sputtered. She wasn’t comfortable with his name. The kid in The Omen was called Damien, and he was the offspring of Satan.
But then this Damien smiled, flashing a one- sided dimple, and she was struck by how gently handsome it made him look. Almost like an angel.
A fallen angel, she reminded herself.
“It must be stuck,” he said suddenly and reached past her to tap the elevator button.
She noticed that he did it with his left hand. Centuries ago, it was believed that left- handed people were servants of the devil. Those superstitions had changed, but that did little to temper her anxiety.
She was horribly, dangerously attracted to Damien.
Finally the elevator door opened, and everyone stepped inside. Damien used his left hand again to direct them to the lobby level, which was where the entrance of the club was located.
Emily glanced expectantly at her friends, hoping they would come to her rescue, but they were deep in the throes of demon fever, too.
# # #
As the elevator jerked and made its ascent, Suzanne couldn’t take her eyes off of the hottie who’d singled her out.
Like her, he was blond, and he wore his hair short and wonderfully wild. The half-spiked, half-smoothed style put him at the top of his game, and so did those mysterious eyes. She couldn’t stop staring at him.
“Why haven’t I ever seen you here before?” he asked in a slightly southern voice. “Are you a new member?”
She made a small sweeping motion that included Jane and Emily. “We have passes. But just for tonight.”
“So, you’re a guest groupie? Then I’d better not waste any time.”
He moved closer, and her pulse zinged straight to her pussy. When he pressed his mouth to her ear, she inhaled the citrus-and-spice scent of his skin.
“Have you ever done anything dirty in public?” he asked.
“No.” Not until now. He was toying with the hem of her dress, lifting it just enough to make her breath rush out.
“Do you want to do bad things with me?” he whispered.
God, yes. She almost gave him permission to put his hand inside her panties.
Then she heard a throat clear. Emily, no doubt, reminding her that they weren’t supposed to engage in any activity tonight. But Suzanne couldn’t seem to help it.
Was she crazy? Letting this strange guy with the strange eyes seduce her in front of her friends?
She met his gaze, and he smiled. Emily’s throat clearing hadn’t bothered him a bit. Well, of course not, she told herself, or he wouldn’t be pulling this naughty stunt.
“What’s your name?” she asked him.
“Jacob Keller. But I prefer Jake. And you?”
“Suzanne Quinn. Sometimes my friends call me Susie Q.”
“Like the song?”
He sang a few of the lyrics into her ear, and his southern rock tone slid sensuously over her skin. Like custard spiked with moonshine.
Damn but she wanted to kiss him. Apparently he had the same urge. He turned his head so their mouths could meet. As the kiss unfolded, he rubbed his pelvis against hers. But he did it gently, and the contrast of his strong male body, especially the hardness behind his zipper, made the kiss more erotic than it should have been. His mouth was slightly opened and so was hers, but there was no tongue.
No noise in the background, either. No shifting of feet, no deliberate throat clearings, no low-talking voices.
Was everyone else watching? Was Auntie Em embarrassed? Was Janiac intrigued? Were the other two men turned on, their cocks nudging their trousers?
By now Jake had both hands pressed against the elevator wall, caging Suzanne with his arms. He intensified the kiss, teasing her with his bad-boy game, running his tongue along the seam of her lips. She heard herself moan. Her panties were actually getting wet.
At that creamy moment, she didn’t care why this man had such an openly lewd effect on her. All that mattered was keeping him close. She put her arms around his waist, making damn sure his pelvis remained fused to hers.
The jerky motion of the elevator coming to a stop jarred her back to reality. She let go of Jake’s waist. He flashed his devil-may-care smile and lowered his arms, freeing her from his cage.
Suzanne looked at her friends. Jane had her head tilted at an entranced angle, and Emily was staring at her as if she’d just sprouted horns and a forked tail.
Gosh, she thought, maybe she had. But instead of checking to see if she had new appendages, she glanced at Jake’s buddies to get their reactions.
Damien had his hungry gaze fixed on Emily, and Marcus seemed unfazed by it all. Did that mean he was into even kinkier stuff? That when he decided it was time to seduce Jane, hell would really break loose?
Everyone piled out of the elevator and stepped into a dimly lit lobby that showcased Victorian, medieval, and mystical furnishings, along with a fancy hotel-style desk.
On the other side of the Gothic- inspired room was a set of ornately carved double doors, closed tight. An imposing bouncer stood in front of them, and the hip- thrusting music that penetrated the wood was a telltale sign that the club was in full swing.
Suzanne turned her attention to the desk. Behind it was a busty blonde in a fuck-me outfit only the most experienced groupie would dare to wear. She looked up and smiled, greeting the men as if she’d had the pleasure of knowing each of them intimately. That didn’t sit well with Suzanne. She was already getting territorial over Jake.
From one little elevator kiss?
She glanced over at him and caught him looking at her, too. That made her feel better, and she chastised herself for it. She didn’t belong with him any more than Emily belonged with Damien or Jane with Marcus.
Yet here they were.
Jane removed the guest passes from her purse, and they presented them to the blonde in charge.
She said, “Have fun tonight, ladies.” She turned and smiled at the men again. “You gentlemen take good care of them.”
“We intend to,” Marcus answered.
“Damn straight,” Jake echoed.
“Absolutely,” was Damien’s reply.
And before they knew it, Suzanne and her friends were being escorted into a sex club.
Where anything could happen.