Archive for 2012 | Yearly archive page
Today’s free read comes from the new Passion Plays erotic romance collection. A 1200 word excerpt from Black Silk Stockings. You can also check out Black Silk Stockings in full in the Passion Plays Teaser, available FREE here and here. The Teaser also includes Red Willow (full story) and a sample from each tale in Passion Plays. Try before you buy!
This is your final warning: DO NOT proceed beyond this point if you are under 18 years of age, or if you don’t care for explicit erotic romance. Instead, please browse the free reads page for dark fiction / horror reads. Thank you.
Black Silk Stockings
Gina and Ellie really needed this case. Despite being two of the best dicks this side of Granville, business went in spurts. Even with a lack of male P.I.s due to the war, they just weren’t getting enough jobs to fill their quota this summer. This, despite the respectable rep they and their strong arm, Frank Fellini, had built up over three years running Nightside Investigations.
But, professional name or not, in the grimy world of the private investigator many a rational man turned to a fool when he saw a set of shapely gams resting on the desktop clad in four-inch black pumps. Some kind of asinine superstition, Gina guessed, about hiring a dame you’d like to screw your brains out with–given the chance–to do your dirty work instead.
Only one thing stopped Gina and her Rita Hayworth look-alike partner from sealing the Hargrove case: Gina’s ex-husband, Peter Shelling. A lifetime ago, Gina worked as Peter’s Gal Friday. With her by his side, and their combined business and investigative capabilities, they’d ruled the Granville private dick district. Together they’d dug up the dirt on more than one crooked politician or corporate fat-cat, landing them accolades from Granville’s small but well known rag, The Gazette.
When Gina pushed for full partnership stakes in their P.I. business–to rise above her Gal Friday status and stand as Peter’s equal–he’d groused and belittled her pursuits. Then and there, a rift opened, ending their marriage two years later.
She and Peter remained friends, healthy rivals in the P.I. business, even helping one another out sometimes and splitting the cash on the case. But this time, she and Ellie needed every clam the Hargrove deal would bring in to pay the overdue rent. Their greasy landlord was breathing down their necks, making lewd suggestions about other ways they could pay for the office space. Slimy little fu…
The bathroom door opened, and Ellie sauntered out in a ruby satin nightie. The fiery material clung to her sculpted curves like it was alive, making love to her beautiful body.
“Can you help me with this garter, hon?” Ellie put her fluffy slipper up on the desk, and lifted her nightie up over the black silk stocking she wore.
Gina felt a twinge of heat in her pussy, and a trickle of wetness licked the inside of her labia. “Sure, doll.” The cool air from the overhead fans sent a delightful chill between her legs, up through her crotchless lace panties, as she moved toward her partner.
Sid Hargrove was part owner of Chin Kwan’s Chinese Theater, located in Granville’s notoriously seedy entertainment district. Hargrove was willing to pay big money to bring in a thieving magician who robbed the club blind, then skipped the joint before he finished his two week run of shows.
Sid’s business partner in the Chinese theater was a temperamental little man with rumored connections to some mighty fierce organized crime families back in Hong Kong. Chin Kwan had grown tired of Hargrove’s constant screw-ups, according to the grapevine. Hargrove had replaced the money taken by the disappearing magician out of his own cash. Now Sid wanted reparation.
Problem being Hargrove was a slime. He had a double deal planned to screw Gina and Ellie out of their payout, and get a cut rate on his case from Peter. Gina was furious.
Thanks to the cigarette girl down at Chin Kwan’s–a Ms. DeeDee Violet–Gina found out about a clandestine meeting between their client and Peter. Seemed Hargrove was looking for a P.I. willing to undercut Nightside on their job quote, and Peter, overheard by the clever Ms. DeeDee, was willing to go lower to win the job.
Being double-crossed by Peter, when they’d shared a respectable rivalry before, stung Gina. It was time for her and Ellie to get even, and snag their cash before Peter could cheat them.
She checked her outfit and overall appearance in the mirror hanging above the potted fern. A black full corset cinched her waist and accentuated her generous cleavage. Skin spilled over the scalloped ebony lace bra attached. She and Ellie both opted for black silk stockings. Peter’s secret weakness when it came to lingerie. He couldn’t resist that sexy seam running up the back of a woman’s calf.
When they were married, Peter bought her a new pair of black silk stockings and garter belt to match every birthday. Then they’d fuck like wildfire until the moon woke up the nightlife in Granville Island.
The ruse for bringing Peter into Nightside’s office was simple enough. Gina phoned him, revealing she, Ellie, and Frank knew of his secret plan with Hargrove. She wanted to make a deal. He was reluctant to accept at first, but she guilted him into remembering he owed her one.
Ellie had sent Frank out on a case they were working in the downtown metro area. Lovable Frank was a great guy and very open-minded. Equal when it came to women. A man ahead of his times. But his understanding only stretched so far. It was all right for Ellie to use seduction methods to cement a case they needed back when they weren’t dating. But now that they were an item, his hot Italian temper brought out the jealous side of Frankie, and he forbade Ellie from working her wares to get what Nightside needed. So today’s planned seduction was off the record. What Frankie didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.
A shadow crossed the frosted glass. Gina lit up a Camel and took a long drag. She looked to Ellie, who smiled back, sliding a cigarette from the pack Gina held out to her. The game was on, and Gina had a pretty good idea who was going to win. If this was a horse race, she’d be betting the lot on herself.
The knock came short and businesslike. She called out, “Come in,” and positioned herself with one three-inch black heel up on the desk, giving Peter an optimal view when he walked through the door.
It took three long strides. Ellie shut the door and locked it before Peter realized the situation he was in. When it hit him, his fedora fell from his hand. The Colt tumbled from his mouth, cherry falling from the tip as it met gray lino.
“What the hell is this?” He dipped down to pick up his hat. Gina knew he was avoiding looking at her.
Ellie spoke up: “It’s a deal, just like we promised. Right, Gina?” She walked up beside her and put an arm around Gina’s shoulders, letting her red-lacquered fingernails dangle close to Gina’s cleavage. “Come on, Peter. Get comfy and we’ll talk.”
She walked around behind the desk and pulled out a chair, then swung one leg high, up and over the back. The motion exposed her shapely legs, ruby satin garters, and those next-to-nothing panties she wore.
Gina chuckled. Between the two of them, Peter was an injured mouse caught in a cat’s paw.
He backed up and grabbed the doorknob. Discovering himself locked in, he frowned. “Oh no, sweetie. I know a set up when it’s staring me in the face. You got big Frank waiting for me in the bathroom or somewheres, haven’t you?”
Gina laughed and moved away from the desk. Ellie pulled the skeleton key for the antiquated door from her lovely bosom. Peter gaped at the keyhole, then back at the pair of femme fatales who had him cornered.
Read in full by clicking the Teaser cover below.
Detritus has received a nice review from The Eloquent Page. Please check it out here:
I’m thrilled the reviewer mentions Armoire among their favorites in Detritus. Here’s a snippet of what pablocheesecake had to say:
Armoire by Louise Bohmer – Sometimes when I read a short story it seems obvious to me that all I’m getting is the smallest of glimpses into a much larger world, Armoire felt like that. I think I could quite happily read an entire novel based around this stories premise – a young woman with magical powers becomes obsessed with collecting the spirits of inter-dimensional parasites.
Thanks to pablocheesecake and The Eloquent Pen for the review.
Featuring: Kealan Patrick Burke, Jeremy C, Shipp, Mary Borsellino, Brent Michael Kelley, Phil Hickes, L.S. Murphy, Michael R. Colangelo, Neil Davies, Louise Bohmer, Edmund Colell, S.P. Miskowski, Michael Montoure, Lee Widener, Pete Clark, and Opal Edgar.
The impulse to collect springs from deep within the human psyche Squirrels gather acorns, rats collect shiny things, but only humans assign meaning to the objects they collect. Detritus is a collection of stories about the impulse to collect, preserve, and display gone horribly wrong.
Be sure to ‘like’ the book on its Kindle page. It helps up our ranking!
Grab your copy of Passion Plays for Kindle here: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0078TNMPG
Or pick up Passion Plays at Smashwords here: http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/132746
Click on the book cover or banner to also grab a copy! (The book cover in the second sidebar will also take you to the Kindle page.)
Passion Plays takes you on a variety of steamy journeys. Female P.I.s seduce a rival detective to score a high-paying case. David, the rebellious print-out prostitute, comes to kill his maker, but his cloned Madame has other plans. A female tattoo artist teaches her apprentice some sexy lessons, while a fiery redhead enchants a young farm boy. A loving partner sets up a surprise ménage for his lady, complete with paddles and handcuffs. Best friends take their relationship to a different level, while the movie theater gets hot for one bored and horny couple. And love gets complicated by family commitments mixed with mob rules. All this and more packed into nine sizzling stories.
This collection is intended for a mature readership over 18 years of age.
Table Of Contents
Black Silk Stockings
Bio-ink & Blueprint Whores
Roberta’s Younger Man
The Other Woman
Under The Weather
And if you’d like Passion Plays kindlegraphed, click here: http://www.kindlegraph.com/authors/louisebohmer
It’s the day before Passion Plays’ release, and I’ve made my final stop on the mini blog tour. Today I visit a wonderful erotic romance writer known as Jessica Frost. Be sure to check out her fabulous contest, which I’ve linked to in the next paragraph. And click here to read: What’s Important In a Hero / Heroine?
Details on Jessica’s contest found here: http://authorjessicafrost.blogspot.com/2012/02/romance-studio-contest-and-contest-by.html The winner gets a $30 Amazon Gift Card!
See you for the Passion Plays release day tomorrow! Don’t forget: You can try Passion Plays before you buy with the Passion Plays Teaser FREE download.
Carole Lanham now drops by the forest to tell us how V.C. Andrews Flowers in the Attic had a large impact on her writing. Check it out below.
Born in St.Louis, Mo., Carole Lanham has published twenty-four short stories and one novella since she began writing full time in 2004. Seven of her stories have received honorable mentions in Year’s Best volumes, one story was short-listed for the Million Writer’s Prize, and one was chosen as a Notable Story of the Year in 2008 for the Million Writer’s Prize.She has won two writing contests and two of her stories made the Preliminary Ballot for the Bram Stoker award for Outstanding Achievement in a Short Story. She is also a monthly contributor at Storyteller’s Unplugged.
Be sure to pay Carole a visit at: http://carolelanham.com/
Poisoned Powdered Sugar
Shall the clay say to him that fashioneth it, what makest thou?
If you recognize this quote at all, it may be because you read it in the Bible. Or, like me, you may recognize it because it’s the opening words in Flowers in the Attic, the endlessly alluring everyone-at-your school-is-reading-it, gothic horror tale that (back in the day) featured the giant head of a girl looking out of a little window on a glossy black cover. It was a guilty pleasure that few of my teenage friends opted to miss, and the series it spawned was like The Hunger Games or Twilight of the 1970s and 80s. When I first discovered it, I was still living in a bright-eyed cable-less world where flip-flops were the only kind of thongs girls wore and MASH was the raciest thing on TV. Flowers in the Attic was easily the most spellbinding bit of entertainment to ever come my way.
And why not? The book had everything a girl could want. The characters were beautiful as Dresden dolls (whatever those were, but gosh they sounded pretty!) and there was a mysterious mansion with a nasty grandmother, and an awful, terrible, horrible attic. Almost all of the love in the story was forbidden and the book ended with a doozy of a cliffhanger. Add to this the deliciously moody and poetic titles of the other installments in the series, Petals in the Wind, If There be Thorns, Seeds of Yesterday, and it’s no wonder my friends and I had to have them all.
Due to the delectable nature of things, I was forced to keep that giant head in the little window turned facedown and concealed under layers of Tigerbeat on my nightstand, that’s just how good that book was! To this day, it’s still banned in some places. Still selling on Amazon too – 85 million books in print. Whatever your own feelings about Flowers in the Attic may be, there’s no denying the fact that it’s impact with young readers has proven enduring.
December 19, 2011 marked the twenty-fifth anniversary of author VC Andrew’s death and this got me thinking. Given my affinity for Flowers as a kid, it seems strange to me that I’ve never given any thought to how that story shaped my own writing. Until now. Sure, I’d like to claim meatier, more groundbreaking influences like Slaughterhouse-Five or 1984, but the truth is, there’s just something supremely frightening to me about a mother who would lock her own children in an attic. It’s so simple. So devastating. That Corrine Dollanganger could be persuaded to place the family she loves under lock and key and eventually forget about them altogether was horrifying enough. The deadly doughnuts that followed were so troubling to me as a teenager, they permanently shaped my concept of horror forever. I mean, I love a good alien abduction, and the miserable repression of a dystopian society can be loads of good fun, but Big Brother has nothing on a loving mother who would mix arsenic with powdered sugar and feed it to her Dresden doll children. It’s both heartbreaking and terrifying at the same time.
But okay, while we’re on the subject, I feel compelled to admit the truth: In the years since I first read Flowers in the Attic, I’ve given into the temptation to lock up a child or two myself. I strapped a helpless kid in a guillotine once too, and I’ve knowingly fed mints that may or may not be magical and/or hallucinogenic to a few trusting young souls. What’s more, I enjoyed every minute of it. It’s the secretive plotting that goes hand in hand with these things, you see. Secrets are particularly tantalizing to me. I’m a nut for regret. Like the attic turned unholy dormitory in VC Andrew’s book, there’s more than a few disquieting secrets hiding out in the dark, dusty corners of my brain. In the interest of keeping things tidy, I’ve collected up some of the ones that refuse to lay flat and put them together in The Whisper Jar for safekeeping.
Luckily, no secret is too large to fit in my jar of black secrets. The farm girl with a quenchless thirst for her brother’s blood went in with a highly satisfying POP, I must say. Similarly, the kid strapped to the guillotine followed without any real fuss (rusty blade and all), so I decided to toss in a fistful of those special pink and green mints as well. Given the fact that more is always more when it comes to savory secrets, I scurried around scooping up naughty books to be dropped in one by one, then grabbed hold of a pair of daring children known for their dangerous and questionable reading habits, carried them by their curls over to my trusty jar of whispery secrets, and… bombs away!
After I screwed on the lid, things got amazingly quiet around here, at least for a little while.
Most people don’t like to reveal the contents of their Whisper Jar but then, we’ve already established the fact that I sustained permanent damage from consuming poisoned powdered sugar at an early age. For this reason, I’ll gladly share every wiggling thing that’s tucked away in mine. If your idea of terror involves intimate secrets about dubious yearnings, desperate deeds, good intentions gone wildly wrong, or true love betrayed, please visit me at one of the links below and take a peek inside The Whisper Jar. In the meantime, for the sake of your own sanity, beware of grandmother’s bearing silver trays of tempting Hostess Donettes.
The people of Highcross have found a handy way to lighten their hearts; they whisper their secrets into an empty jar and screw the cap on tight. Locked away on the dusty shelves of the Jar House, a town’s worth of black thoughts have been lined up in rows that become longer with the years. When the jars are accidentally shattered, the streets are flooded with everyone’s darkest deeds. No one is safe.
In this collection of award-winning short stories by Carole Lanham, a dangerous friendship forms around a love of books, a student learns more than she was ever meant to learn in school, a boy struggles to deal with his sister’s murderous affections, and the door to a mysterious room unbolts to reveal a terrible truth.
Open The Whisper Jar with great care. You just might find your own secrets hidden in there.