Word Count: 12K
Look what happens when I can take my time. Twelve thousand words in 30 days? The old way I'd have 12K done in three days. And I outlined this puppy!
But it only proved to me that my plot needed more detail. Such is the learning process.
The fact remains that this year NaNoWriMo was an experimental exercise. Plotting has given me the capability to have more detail in my stories. More foreshadowing without having to go back and add things. A better middle that doesn't sag.
But learning a new process takes time. Thankfully, I have time.
I refuse to subject you to my outline. It's way too long (22 pages long) and too boring (there's only sentences and bullet points with very little dialogue). But, if interested, here is my word count, time spent and notes.
So I hope what you've learned from this is... if you want to write, start.
NaNoWriMo isn't about finishing, it's about beginnings.
Because I can't resist (I love showing excerpts) I have a small snippet of the 12K words for your reading pleasure.
Please note: This is a Contemporary M/M Romance
Which means this relationship is between two men. Here's the premise:
Heterosexual truck driving trainee must complete his training in time to send his daughter to college and finds love with his homosexual truck driving instructor.
Yeah, I know, it's not all that plausible. Or is it... :)
I'm giving it a go so we'll see.
The images included throughout the article are inspirations for the characters. One of the characters is Tabasco, the Peterbilt semi that Jake (the driving instructor) owns.
On to the excerpt! (After legal stuff)
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted, with the exception of a reviewer who may quote passages in a review, without written prior permission from the publisher.
The Silent Road
“Look on the bright side,” Troy said. “You still get to drive.”
What I needed wasn’t short of angelic intervention. But matters were in my own hands and my decision was made. A canvas “go” bag sitting at my feet, I squared my shoulders and summoned as much gumption as a scolded puppy, but I had to ask.
“Troy, is there a bonus to this job?”
My boss wiped his face and rubbed his eyes. “Tell you what, if the two of you can do a turn-around before Steve gets back, I’ll give you forty-eight cents a mile bonus.”
Partners sucked. But to beat a single driver, you needed two. Still, shouldn’t be too hard since Steve only had a day on me—us. “Thank you, Troy. For everything.”
“Yeah, yeah. He’s out there waiting for you.” He waved me off. “Get used to Jake. I’m thinking of implementing mandatory two-man teams.”
I jerked upright fast as if a harness pulled me back. Partnering with Jake full time was not in the plan. I was barely going to get through it this once.
“What’s the matter, Dan?” Troy chuckled. “Can’t handle a guy who likes it every way?”
His words set my feet in motion. I snatched my duffle bag and left my boss’s office. For all I knew Troy was doing this on purpose. How could I blame him? One lousy paper stood in between me and the road. How I loved the pavement, the journey. That’s why my marriage broke down. The road beckoned and she was a tempting mistress.
But what waited for me, idling in the parking lot, gleamed hot red and looked not a day older than when it hit the lot twenty years ago, was a 379 Peterbilt semi-truck. A true Optimus Prime. I’d seen older trucks, but someone could tell me this beauty stepped off a show room yesterday and I’d believe them. I made a long, low whistle as I moseyed over to her. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.
I settled my baseball cap on my head and pulled the passenger side door open. There, sitting on the seat were the bluest eyes on a growling, white, canine face.
“Whoa…” I held my hands up. “I don’t want no trouble.”
The dog couldn’t have weighed more than thirty-five pounds. But I never dealt with pets growing up. There was no room for them in the cabin.
“If no trouble’s what you want, try not walking into somebody’s house easy as you please.”
I turned to see Jake’s pearly white teeth behind his plump lips. His perfect Germanic features caught me off guard. A flash-back I never wanted to remember filled every centimeter of my mind.
The side of Jake’s face pressed up against the back gate of a truck lift, his eyes half-lidded in ecstasy as he pushed his ass out towards another guy who zealously dicked him from behind.
There was no helping it. I stared at him then, just like now. Cold shivered down my spine while hot rolling waves rose. Opposites colliding together, roiling my stomach.
“Call off your hound.”
“She’s not a hound. She’s a Korean Jindo and her name is Mimi.” He nodded to the dog. “Mimi, this is Dan. Dan, Mimi.”
“That thing is going with us?”
“If you don’t want to ride with us, don’t.” Jake sidled past me and went around the engine.
God dammit Troy. “I don’t like dogs.” I squinted at Mimi. No grandmother ever wanted to be named after a mutt.
Silent Road will be coming out in 2019. Watch for details on the blog OR Join my Very Important Readers (VIR) Group for updates!
As Donald and I polish our serving silver, decorate the house, make our check list for when each food item goes into the oven... (we're organized this year! We have a planner of what food goes in the oven at what time) to make our 4pm dinner deadline, I think about the opportunities I've had especially over the past two years.
This will be my first Thanksgiving in Texas.
No matter what you do to celebrate this holiday (for me at least) it's about FOOD. And thankfulness of what I have.
On that note there is a prayer I've memorized and recite on these special occasions that I'd like to share with you. It rhymes and rolls off the tongue easy as pumpkin pie!
This year, I'll be thinking of you and trying to work in a line about my faithful readers.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone!
The First Blood Son (Book 3)
An Ancient Evil Seeks to Seduce the First Blood Son of the Original Vampire
Hybrid wolf Moon and her shifter friends fight to prevent her human vampire master, Kane, from falling into the clutches of an ancient evil being. Multiple attempts to assault her sire, while he sleeps, pit them against one with power greater than they possess. An assist from a onetime enemy might be the solution if their new-found ally doesn’t kill them all first.
While Kane and Moon unravel the mystery of the nighttime evil, the master vampire is drawn to a beautiful redhead that strains his current relationship with werewolf leader Zandra. At the same time, Moon feels attracted to the woman’s strange black wolf. To make matters worse, Zandra and her brothers face berserkers, a flesh-eating faction of shifters, that challenge their support of the first blood son and his kindred hybrid wolf. When they turn to Kane for help, he proposes a solution that will forever alter them.
Trust and loyalty are the keys to their salvation as they battle all manner of evil. Perception and devotion could win the day as these paranormal beings fight for life, love, and family once again.
Carol confirms there will be two more books in this series!
Right from the start, we have peril and action. The danger is ethereal and a more cunning, sinister evil is after Moon and all she holds dear.
The perspective of a dog has always seemed natural in these books and I can imagine being part of the wolf pack vampires in the story. That's right WOLF PACK VAMPIRES. That's what they have become.
Each book deals with mythology and there are usually Greek Gods spinning the mayhem, but this time Christian myth and lore are front and center of the story. And the enemy is something even Kane has never dealt with.
It kept me on my toes and I loved the cute scenes of Moon breaking up the levity of the story.
I will warn that while the story is complete, there is a lead into book 4. I wouldn't call it a cliffhanger, but more an enticement for the next story and where it will lead.
I Would Recommend This to Fans of:
I awoke to pressure on my chest just as night descended. Invisible hands stroked my back and legs. I startled onto four paws, my claws digging into the bedding. The dark room where Kane, Zandra, and I slept gave no clue to an intruder. The air smelled bitter. Even though I was a vampire, and my body wasn’t affected by heat or cold, a shift in the air dropped the temperature so that puffs of breath from my low warning growl clouded to steam. The pressure of a presence lingered around me. Hands tried crushing me down.
Peering through the pitch black with my enhanced vision, I saw that my sire Kane struggled against something. He pushed his hands up as if something pressed down on him.
“No!” he shouted and jerked into a sitting position. His ankles bashed against one of the tall bed posts. I realized at once that what I had felt was not directed at me but to Kane.
Zandra, who now shared the bed with us during our daytime rest after our tumultuous battle with the berserker werewolves, bolted upright at the sound of her lover’s voice. “What?” She rubbed her eyes and blinked at the first blood son of Brogio, the original vampire. “Was it a nightmare?”
“I don’t have dreams or nightmares.” Kane brushed a long strand of his dark-brown hair from in front of his brown eyes. Confusion spread across his strong chiseled facial features.
Zandra placed an arm around Kane’s broad shoulders and pressed a cheek to his. “Tell us.”
I lay down, crawled to his feet, and licked the top of one of them. Pressure descended upon me. I could feel hands on me.
Kane nodded at me as the automatic lights began to glow indicating that night was upon us.
“Something held me down… hovered… I was paralyzed. Fingers probed at me. Lips kissed me… everywhere.” Kane ran his hands over his eyes. “I… pleasure… but fear at being so completely in the grip of another. When I opened my eyes…”
His abrupt halting of the story shot me a mental picture of beautiful Selene, Brogio’s wife. Since Kane made me kindred, we have been connected. I feel what he does. I hear his thoughts as he does mine. This connection is advantageous, since I’m a female hybrid wolf and can’t vocalize my thoughts.
I directed my opinion to him. You will never open your heart to Zandra because Selene still lives there.
He hesitated to continue so he wouldn’t reveal his unrequited love for a woman who was the light mirror image to Zandra’s dark reflection. Where Selene’s long hair is silver, Zandra’s is silky brown. The shape of Selene’s silver-blue eyes is the same as Zandra’s golden orbs. Selene is fair. Zandra is olive skinned. Other than that, they have the same tall height and slender figure. Selene, once vampire, had been restored as a human like her husband, Brogio, the first vampire. Zandra, like Kane, is the first born, not of a vampire but of the original werewolf.
“What? What did you see?” Zandra pressed her strong fingers into Kane’s arm as if to squeeze the answer from him.
He sighed. “A beautiful blonde woman who smiled at me. But then her face turned a demonic red, and her beautiful teeth became fangs. Bat-like wings sprung up from her back, and I felt talons dig into my arms and legs.”
“My gods, what a nightmare. Anything else?” Zandra rubbed Kane’s arm which showed no marks or signs of attack.
“Yes. She declared she would take my soul, but stopped. The smile faded from her horrible face, and she whispered a dawning realization.”
“Whispered what?” Zandra leaned back to look at him.
Kane smirked. “She said, ‘but you have no soul!’”
Zandra laughed. “Well, that’s no big news.” She took both her hands and rubbed his head, making a mess of his shoulder-length hair. “Okay, so you had a nightmare. You should interpret the monster as me and realize that the message is that we need to have more sex.”
Kane joined in her laughter, and I relaxed a bit.
“Maybe,” Zandra stood up on both knees revealing her naked body while mocking a menacing face, “you’re afraid I’ll go all werewolf on you in the middle of sex.”
Kane grabbed her and tumbled her under him as they both screamed in laughter. Disgusted and not wanting to observe what I knew was coming, I jumped down from the bed, nudged the bedroom door open, and padded into the hallway. They might be able to laugh it off, but I could feel in my bones that something else was coming for him, for all of us.
As I stepped into the night, Zandra’s numerous brothers stood watch outside Kane’s Tuscany wine estate chateau. They kept vigil to guard against a rogue band of werewolves who might try to take revenge on the slaughter we had dealt them the previous week. Kane had devised a clever plan to destroy thousands of berserker wolves dead set on destroying him, the new leader of the vampire nation. We expected retribution from other nations for the death of their Italian kindred.
All Zandra’s brothers were large, hulking versions of her olive complexion and dark-brown hair and eyes. I spied Zeb, the eldest of the brothers, as I stretched my sleep away. He stood near a large cedar tree. Eyes that had previously held distrust now softened as he glanced at me. I had proven my affection for his sister, whom he loved above all others.
Zachary, the next eldest brother, slinked quietly toward me from the nearby vineyard.
He stopped just short of Zeb and grabbed a fly from the air and crushed it.
Zale followed, nodded, and grinned. His charm softened his ruggedness. “All quiet this day and night in the fields, Zeb.”
“Don’t state the obvious,” Zeb quipped at his brother. He had no time or tolerance for charm.
Zale smiled and rubbed my head and then sat next to me on the ground.
Shy Zander joined us from the entrance gates to the estate, followed by Zeno and Zindel who caught up to him and poked fun at their quiet brother.
“It’s a wonder Zander could see anything coming.” Zeno jabbed his brother in the ribs.
“Yeah,” Zindel rubbed the shy one’s head, “he’s always looking down at his feet.”
Zander brushed his brothers away and scooted over to lean against the front door with arms crossed.
Zeno and Zindel were full of pride and fierce in battle. All the brothers were forces with which to be reckoned, but Zylon’s appearance would terrify little children. He resembled Kane’s descriptions of battle-scarred Vikings. He silently moved from behind the cedar tree and startled me. Second only to Zeb in size, I had watched him break enemies in half with his bare hands.
Zane’s casual stroll from the forest reminded me of his deceptive demeanor. He appeared to not pay attention but became an obvious predator when the opportunity became available.
As Zohar and Zoltan joined us from the back of the estate, I thought how much alike all the brothers appeared, but how their difference in character was marked.
Zohar’s nod as he approached was nonchalant and carefree. His inner spirit embraced freedom and fun.
Zoltan’s sensitive eyes met mine as he grinned at me. I had liked him the moment we met. He was the baby of the family, and I knew him as the kind one and my favorite of the brothers.
The front door opened suddenly, and Zander fell backward.
Kane prevented Zander’s fall by catching the shifter by his collar and glanced around at everyone. “Come inside and have a meal as my small thanks for your daylight vigil.” He opened the door wide for all to enter.
As the brothers trudged past Kane and Zandra toward the dining room, Zohar threw out a suggestion. “I think we should attend the Lucca Summer Festival tonight. We need a break and some fun.”
“Always the fun,” Zeb grumbled. “Why expose ourselves to a public attack?”
“Berserkers aren’t going to attack us in a public square,” Zachary, the logical one, mumbled.
“Yes!” Zandra whirled around and gave Kane her best puppy-dog eyes. “What fun. I read this year Ringo Starr, Roger Waters, and King Crimson will perform in an all-star band.”
We joined the group in the dining room just as James, Kane’s silent and ever-present servant, set down a glass of human blood for his master and a bowl of the nectar on the floor for me.
I half listened as I lapped up what I considered to be God’s gift. James stood next to me against the wall to make himself unobserved and waited for me to finish my meal.
“What I’d like to see,” Kane quipped, “is Joe Perry and Alice Cooper team up with that pirate actor Johnny Depp.” He swallowed his blood meal in two large gulps. “They’re supposed to create ‘Hollywood vampires’ or so the advertisements say. Might be fun after the morbid days we’ve spent of late.”
I licked my chops and sat back on my haunches. Finally, I had learned to control the euphoria that overcame me after drinking blood. In my earlier days as a vampire, that was not the case. In the beginning, gorging on human blood would almost knock me out.
James bent, picked up my bowl, and made himself scarce. An odd duck, his mild personality, medium build, and nondescript features fooled many into thinking he was harmless. People underestimated James at their own peril.
“Oh, yes. I’d love to see that.” Zandra placed a quick peck on Kane’s pale cheek and sat down to dig in to a breakfast of steak, bacon, eggs, potatoes, biscuits, and pancakes that would have choked a lumberjack.
“It is only a little over an hour’s drive from here,” Zachary mumbled with his mouth full of steak and bacon.
“I’ll go only if Kane lets us ride in the limo,” Zeb announced as he licked the grease from his fingers.
Kane smirked. “Do you actually think that all of you will fit in one car, limo included?”
Zachary interjected, “Would not the limo and the town car work? Kane, you can take Zandra and Moon in your sports car.”
After a lot of boring banter, much of which I ignored, it was settled, and we were off. Despite the fun atmosphere everyone embraced, a growing fear gnawed at the bottom of my stomach. I shot Kane a mental message. I fear danger awaits us at this event. Let the brothers and Zandra go, and let’s stay here.
Kane shot me a look. You worry too much. If danger awaits us, it will be met in kind.
I wondered if an evil he had yet to meet and overcome might take him by surprise.
The festival music hurt my ears. I longed to return to Villa Chiantigiana, Kane’s wine estate. To block out the blaring noise, I closed my eyes and thought of the place I now called home. I visualized its green, hilly panorama and vineyards, as well as the surrounding forest as far as the eye could see. As it was in the Chianti Hills, Kane said it was in the heart of Tuscany, just a short distance from Florence. Rows of ancient cypress trees lined either side of the long drive through the fields I loved to explore up to the estate house. The big nineteenth-century stone villa had a red-tiled roof. I was grateful that my vampirism had cured my color blindness.
My favorite game was to run past the fifteen bedrooms on the upper floors, leap down the circular staircase, scamper over the black-and-white marble entry, scoot through the hall out to the pool, and dive into the water. James failed to find this amusing, particularly when I shook off on Kane’s beautiful dark-stained cypress wooden furniture in the den.
I also loved to explore the rooms that Kane ordered me not to disturb, like his large library and study or the laboratory filled with experiments at different stages that tickled my nose and made me sneeze. Sometimes after quenching my bloodlust, I’d climb to his rooftop balcony with a star-watching telescope or snoop through the inside of the many bedrooms filled with paintings and sculptures. I loved to roll around on his expensive antique rugs. Whenever James caught me, he would chase me down into the large den with a huge fireplace and a room-long bar. I longed to snooze by the fire in the den and relax, if just for a while.
Loud cheering startled me from my reflection. Kane and Zandra had split up from the brothers who each had found companionship with the local women who appeared enthralled with them.
Sitting next to Kane, I glanced at my sire and Zandra as they relaxed in front of the stage and focused on the vampire act. Still concerned for their safety, I wandered away through the crowd hoping to find a quiet place to observe them and watch the crowd. Before I had gotten some fifty feet, a large black wolf blocked my path. His iridescent green eyes held mine. The attraction between us surprised and distracted me from the shocked crowd surrounding us. As a hybrid wolf, I can pass as a white husky, much like my biological father, Snow Blood. But this full-blooded wolf caused quite a stir. Glancing around, I noticed people backing away as a dazzling woman emerged through the crowd.
Her approach was like one I might have in a dream. Her boots made no sound on the cobblestone street, and she appeared to glide rather than walk. I couldn’t take my eyes from her. Long, wavy, red hair hung past her waist. Her piercing green eyes matched those of the wolf. Tight leather pants, a low-cut matching black vest, and knee-high boots covered her silky skin and flaunted her flawless curves. The men in the surrounding crowd appeared dumbstruck at the personification of female sexuality that she exuded, but the babies and young children began to scream.
Their cries shook me out of the trancelike effect she’d created on me. My hackles rose, and a shiver ran through my entire body.
She stopped and frowned at the wolf. “Samil, naughty boy. Thought I’d lost you.” She glanced toward me, and I sensed feigned surprise. She stretched her hand out. “Whom have you discovered, Samil? How beautiful you are, my hybrid girl.”
I shrank from her touch and backed away.
The black wolf called Samil moved with me and kept his shimmering eyes on mine all the while.
Kane’s voice shot through my brain. Moon, where are you?
I am here, Master.
Kane parted the crowd and stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of the woman. “Selene?” He shook his head and blinked, trying to hide his shocked expression. He swayed and then steadied his body. The silence grew uncomfortable as my master’s eyes locked with the stranger’s. At last, he blinked again and appeared to break the woman’s controlled stare. “I’m sorry. I thought you were someone that I know.”
I padded to my sire, ignored Samil’s intense stare, and stood next to Kane.
The woman approached as the crowd around us began to dissipate. She held out her hand to my sire. “I am Lilith. This is my wolf Samil. We came across your lovely hybrid and thought to return her to her owner.”
Kane smiled and took the woman’s hand. “Kane de Medici, madam. Thank you for stopping to help my disobedient pet.
I cringed at the name calling, but shot a warning. Beware of this woman. She gives me the creeps.
I sat back on my haunches and wondered why an age-old vampire always appeared to be ruled by his mating desires.
As if on cue, Samil moved to sit next to me and lick my face.
He stood just as I did, and I searched his green eyes for some sign of danger. I saw conflicting good and evil in them and backed away.
Again, I warned. This is the danger I feared for us.
Carol's love of animals, especially dogs and horses, is obvious in everything she writes. When Carol isn’t feeding her horde of canine rescues, she’s out riding her beloved Friesian on the plains of Texas. Her love of animals leads her to write through a dog's eyes. Carol’s message is clear. "If a dog can love us unconditionally, why can't we do the same with each other?" And, her paranormal stories are often filled with characters that might be the most difficult to love.
Carol's writing career began at 14 years of age when she started telling her stories to Labrador Retrievers, Basset Hounds, and any stray that happened by. It wasn't long before people stopped to have a listen as well. Now, Carol writes for people and speaks to large audiences, dogs included.
Contact Carol at http://www.carolmckibben.com
or join her at https://www.facebook.com/CarolMckibbenAuthor
Cougar Bait in the Coffee Shop
I'm tots cheating this month on everything! But it's the time to give thanks for the opportunities I've had. In honor, I'm doing another free story, like I always do! So you could say I honor my readers every month!
November is Part 1 of COUGAR BAIT IN THE COFFEE SHOP and it is a story about an older lady and a younger man.
This story is a bit niche. People don't want to think of old people having sex. Even though wrinkles don't stop people from having sex. Would you stop having intercourse because of age? Maybe? *Nothing like body issues to force celibacy.*
The POV is from a guy and it's crude. I can't stress enough that this story is...
NOT SAFE FOR WORK
Or prudes. Or people who get skirmish around sex.
I promise I do have stories that are not all about sex. Though, they are few and far between.
Sex, sex, sex.
If you haven't been scared off by all the sex talk, proceed!
Of course if you would like to support me as an author and have the ability to spend $1 on the story, you can purchase it on Amazon and give me a coffee... to write more stories about Coffee Shop Cougars. :)
Here's the link:
If not, no big. But you'll have to read it on this website. However, it will be available any time. I appreciate your support and am putting it out there for your enjoyment. Happy Reading!
Copyright © 2012 S.N. McKibben
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted, with the exception of a reviewer who may quote passages in a review, without written prior permission from the publisher.
WARNING: EXPLICIT SEXUAL CONTENT
The content below is for people 18 years or older. If you are offended or uncomfortable by mature, sexual content, please STOP reading and find another one of my stories with less material with sexual content. Thank you.
Before we begin the story, I have visuals!
There are only two characters in this story. Satomi and Kal. I thought I'd give you my version of what these two look like before I started.
In Cougar Bait I was trying to show the contrast of the testosterone induced needs of a decent guy.
Not all men have a chip on their shoulder, are confident to walk up to a stranger and say hello and yet, a lot of pressure is put upon guys to make the first "physical" move. Of course, women signal a guy first by checking him out, making eye contact and smiling. Which if read incorrectly, by the guy who approaches a woman, can lead to embarrassment and further descent into insecurity.
Maybe it's insightful. Definitely entertaining.
Cougar Bait in the Coffee Shop
I just want to get my dick wet.
Fuck. Now I sound like an asshole. But damn if I’m tired of dating rosy palm. It’s been six months since my last good lay. Since my last lay actually, without the assistance of my hand. This fact is driving me nuts. It’s like I have this monster clawing from the inside to get out and fuck everything. Trees, pillows, couches, shoes—everything is fair game. Everything is a potential hole.
God, if I let that monster go, I’d be in jail. Humping legs walking by isn’t right. It isn’t right that some of those legs don’t necessarily belong to women either.
I think about driving up to Vegas. It’s about a five-hour drive from California, but five hours is a bit excessive for paid assistance. Prostitution isn’t legal here, and in all honesty, it’s not about getting laid. Not entirely. It’s about having a warm body to cuddle at night. It’s about smelling her hair, her skin, rubbing against her softness, pulling her close and…
I’m driving myself crazy. I can’t do this. Staying indoors is a prescription for madness. I’ll go get some coffee or something. And, then I’ll be up all night thinking about fucking a mermaid. Whoopee for me! It’s probably my fate for a while, unless those masturbation blisters on my hands have gone down. Which they haven’t.
The keys in my hand make my idea real. I just need to get out. So, smart phone with downloaded coffee app in hand, my hard-on and me drive the zero point five miles to the closest college hang-out.
Ordering my sissy drink while I try to cover up the bulge in my pants with hands in my pockets, I smile at the girls behind the counter -- managing not to think about how they’d feel naked in my arms. Okay, okay, I didn’t think it twice.
Getting out of my head helps. Being surrounded by people keeps my mind from wandering even if some of those legs look tempting. But getting out gives my control back. I don’t feel the clawing fuck monster trying to get out. Talking to the baristas brings me out of my head and back into the here and now.
I pay, grab my drink and sit in a corner where I can observe life. You know, other people who regularly get laid.
Coffee doesn’t give me release, but it does give me a taste of mocha, sugary-smooth goodness. And a good look at this odd girl. Just so I’m straight on things, I’ve nicknamed her, “Felony.” She looks way too young for me with her school girl braids, but for the color. Her hair is pure white, like old-lady-grey but beautiful. Not kinked out or rough. I wonder how those braids would feel splayed across my thighs. They’d make great “handle-bars.” Something to hold onto while those puffy lips sucked on my cock. Fuck. Back to being the asshole again.
Watching other patrons I see a guy in a suit with a newspaper. Probably relaxing before he goes home to his wife and kids. Taking for granted that he has someone, probably bemoaning the fact that he does. Now I’ve made myself jealous of the suit executive and glide my sights over to a lady talking on her cell phone. Christ lady, we don’t need to know about your horrible date last night. In fact, you might meet more good guys if you stopped talking on the phone and smiled at the dude in the baseball cap over there that’s sneaking glances at you over his iPod.
That girl with the white braids is reading. Oh my God, she’s got that erotica book, something about the different colors of grey. I’ve heard that book is straight up mommy porn. The balls on that girl are way impressive. I mean, reading about bondage and sex here? Isn’t that a book girls curl up in bed and masturbate with? One can only hope.
I get the flash of hazel-brown eyes and a wildfire shoots down to my feet. Crap. She caught me looking. Heat rises up to my cheeks, and I take a sip of coffee. Fuck. Now I’m that creepy guy that’s staring at her. Yet, that’s not what her smile tells me. I peek. She’s still looking at me.
Just to be sure, I look behind me and come face-to-face with a wall. Nothing transparent there, so yeah, she’s looking at me. Or the freaky Dali-like painting. Crap. Do I go over to her? What do I say? Oh now she’s laughing. What is up with this girl? Great. Now I’ve done it. She’s getting up to leave, probably so she won’t be stared down by a creepy guy who can’t keep it together in his own home, alone. You fucking dick.
Oh shit. Is she walking over here? Is she going to talk to me? Oh crap, crap, crap. What do I say? Maybe she’s just going to the bathroom. Nope. I get a good look at her jeans and button down blouse as she stands before me. God I love buttons.
“Hi.” Ms. Felony sets her book in my lap. “You look like you need this more than me.”
I can’t get over the fact that the book in my hands, this very book, was in her lap. Now I’m touching it, which means I’m sort of touching her. Wow, I’m officially beyond desperate.
“Satomi.” She reaches out a hand and, mindlessly, I take it. Her grip is firm and warm. Now that she’s this close, I can see the crows-feet spanning across her eyes. Older than thirty then. Her Asian heritage is obvious from this distance, but she’s tall. About five-seven.
Half of me is screaming--name, give her your name. While the other half is dumbfounded and asking, what’s a name?
Ms. Felony giggles, and I shake out of my reverie. “—Kal. Kalyan.”
“Nice to meet you Kal.”
She’s touching me. Dearest God, thank you.
“Hope you enjoy the book.” Satomi smiles, turns, and I get a great view of her jean-clad ass.
Wait, she’s walking away. Shit. This girl takes the initiative, and I completely botch it. Fuck a duck. What do I do?
My next action could’ve been dick-inspired or heart-inspired, I really don’t know, but I get to my feet and follow her out the door.
She turns around and beams a smile at me. The kind of smile that stops hearts and feet.
“I can’t take your book from you.” I hand “fifty shades” over, but she doesn't reach for it. “Weren’t you in the middle of it?”
“I’ve read it three times already.”
“Uh—” Intelligent conversation, I know. But what do you say to women? “What was your favorite part?”
No hesitation on her side. “The ending.”
Okay I deserve the monosyllabic answers. She’d stuck herself out there, and I completely failed her. But she looks like she is laughing at my discomfort. Even so, I am talking to a girl! Not just my mom. Not just ordering coffee.
“The part where the girl leaves the guy to stick to her principles, even though she loves him.”
This makes me look at the book in a whole different perspective. I thought she might tell me about one of the sex scenes. Christ, I’m a perv.
“Isn’t it about bondage?”
Satomi giggles. The sound wraps around my ears the way I wish her legs would.
“It’s about pleasure.”
And now I’m back to salivating, non-speech Kal.
“It’s also about limits and communicating what you want.” There was a very long pause before she spoke again. “You have a hard time communicating don’t you.”
Engaging my brain, I come up with the wittiest comment I could. “My internal monologue is not fit for public consumption.”
“What about private consumption?”
Satomi is completely out of my league. She is beautiful, witty, loves sex apparently and isn’t afraid to speak. Everything I’m not. Except for the love of sex part.
A softness appears in her eyes. Like the light of intuition is on and she’s looking into me. “I make you nervous.”
Automatic reaction has me shaking my head. Then I correct and nod my head. “A little.”
“Why?” She takes my hand. The contact is a gentle reminder that she is a human being that deserves proper respect.
I could have baulked. I could have shrugged. But she was holding my hand and it felt like a line to my heart. Taking a breath I collect my thoughts. “I don’t know what to say.”
It’s the best thing I can come up with, and it's the truth.
“You don’t know why I make you nervous or you’re nervous because you don’t know what to say?”
“That last one.”
“Then you don’t have to say anything. Even standing here we have this moment.”
Wow. Yeah, way out of my league. “But I want to talk.”
Biting her lip makes her look younger than my estimation. “How old are you?” Shit you fucking asshole, you’re not supposed to ask that. “I’m sorry, never mind.”
“No, I don’t mind. I’m forty-one.”
I whistle. “You’re way too young to have grey hair.”
A very sexy, very mischievous gleam shines in her eyes. “And some guys go bald at twenty-five. How old are you?”
I quirk an eyebrow and smile. “Young enough for you to claim cougar-ship.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh.”
“Please tell me that’s not a problem.” I keep my hand locked with hers and held firm. “I mean it’s enough to be shot down for not having the right hair or clothes, but my age I can’t help.”
She hesitates. “It’s a problem that shouldn’t be a problem.” Satomi looks away from me for the first time.
Deflated, I squeeze her hand. “Let me see you safely to your car.”
“I live across the street.” She pulls me in the direction of black pavement, and I pull her back. At this time of night there is little traffic, but all I need is some crazy speeding down “booty” boulevard over the blind hill as we’re crossing the street.
“Jay-walking isn’t safe.”
She laughs. I don’t.
Satomi huffs out an adorable snort. “You’re serious.”
“There’s a cross walk right there.” I let go of her hand and point at a distance of maybe five-hundred feet.
“Oh my God, you’re going to make me walk all the way around when my house is right there?” She points to a row of condominiums. They are your typical wood and stucco luxury apartments.
She cocks her head and takes my hand again. “Well, I guess that means I can spend more time with you.”
My breath catches and a wave of perverted and not-so-perverted thoughts came to mind. I might get laid. Does she want to see me again? Does her whole body feel as soft and warm as her hand? What other books does she read? Will she invite me up? I wonder if she’ll let me take down those braids and comb my fingers through her hair. Why do all the cool girls have some aversion to me? Because I’m a fucking asshole, that’s why.
Satomi pulls me in the direction of the cross-walk and I submit to her guide. God, if I get laid by this mare, I’d be her slave. Sated and happy, she could pull me around all day. And thinking these things makes me a chauvinistic asshole.
We reach the cross walk, and the button chirps its acknowledgment of pedestrians.
I had to talk, even if she seems content on silence and holding my hand. “So, do you go get coffee every night?”
That twinkle in her eye appears again. I recognize it in a way. A combination of knowing and confidence.
“Not every night.”
I stare at the buttons on her shirt wanting to fiddle with them. I could reach over and pop one off one-handed. Except, I have a book in one hand and my other clasps hers.
“See, you know what to say.”
My mouth goes completely dry. I am a failure at this. “Girls kind-of want to talk about things like clothes, and I don’t know anything about that.” Except how to operate buttons or zippers.
“Then maybe you should be talking to women.”
God she’s so smart. And I’m so dumb. “What do women want to talk about?”
The light turns green for us, and I happily walk her across the street and back up the way we came on the other side.
“You in college?”
“Yeah.” I blush. A reminder I am too young for her.
“What’s your minor?”
I baulk a little. “My minor? Aren’t you supposed to ask about my major?”
“If you’ve got a minor, it means you have a contingency plan. A good thing to have.”
“If I had my way, I’d like a minor in fucking with a major in relationships.” Oh God was that my outside voice?
She howls. Tears stream from her eyes. “I think that would be a popular duo.”
Her acceptance bolsters my confidence. “Hey, they are complimentary. Too bad Rockford School of hard knock-ups doesn’t run more courses.”
“What kind of requirements do you think you’d need to get in?” She wipes a tear from her eye.
“Personal audition after a video introduction.” I look down at the book. “Maybe a written dissertation.” Satomi is the kind of girl to fill in the blanks about what kind of video, audition and dissertation I was considering. All of it had sex before each required format.
She leans a bit into me, pushing me down a curvy pathway.
“Tell me something.” I look around at the condominiums. “They say older women like sex more. Is it true?”
She smirks at me.
I wonder if I’ve gone too far in asking.
“Honey,” she drawls. “How am I supposed to respect you in the morning if bedding you is too easy?”
My brain flips over, and my dick twitches alive. “What?”
The first thing I think is I’m going to get laid. Then the implications of what she said filter through.
“Are you…” I look back at the coffee shop. “Did you…” I turn back to her. “Did you go to the coffee shop to pick up a guy?”
She hid her laugh through a beautiful, well-preserved hand. “I went to the coffee shop to get coffee. But you’re way too easy.”
“Okay,” I held the book up in defense. “Go back to that respect part. You’re saying I can have a one-night stand with you tonight but there’s a chance of seeing you again if I resist?”
“See, you understand women.”
I do a double take. She has me pinned and figured out. Or she thinks she does. A smile slips across my face.
“Then I choose to leave you at your door tonight and see you again.”
She squeezes my hand and leans into me. “Oh, I’m not letting you go that easy.”
That sulky voice. The promise in her eyes. Her words get me thinking about how she’d taste with my nose at the apex of her thighs. How she’d feel if I bent her over and took her from behind, then face-to-face with her legs wrapped around my hips. How many positions could we do in one night? My knees suddenly have no hinges. They turn solid as pudding. “But, I’d rather have more than less.”
Asian eyes drill into mine. “The only problem with talking to women is they know what you’re thinking.”
She is so close I can smell the mocha on her breath. “Satomi, that’s not fair.”
Her lips cover mine.
Heaven lies between our tongues. The heavy book in my hand falls away making a thunk and a rustle. One hand roams her body. The other pulls her closer to me. In all my haze, I tell myself to be a good kisser. I need to be. Girls judge you by first kiss. So I am slow yet demanding. I have to show her I have some confidence in my minimal skill. Oh, yes. Choose me. Fuck me.
I pull away. “What if I said I couldn’t resist. That there is something about you. Would you see me later?”
She opens her eyes, slowly.
Yes! My academically inclined noodle did a proverbial fist pump. I fucking impressed her. I might get laid AND see her later. This felt good. I felt alive. My erection might not be in vain.
Then her eyes turn down and my heart sinks.
“Hey, if this is about the age thing…” How could I convince her it didn’t matter?
“What am I doing?” She shook her head. “I’m old enough—”
I put a finger across her lips. Girls can get away with looking adorable when they do it to guys. Me? I look like a brute smashing her lips together.
A tongue strokes my index digit. My spine shivers all the way down. That just makes me want to fuck her all the more. She kisses the pad of that restraining finger, and I knew I only have one chance.
“What if I put make-up on to look older?”
She pulls back with a disturbing amount of scrutiny, but I can tell she is thinking about it. She seems amicable to the idea.
“You’d put make-up on to look older?” Her eyebrows scrunch together in disbelief.
“Yeah, I can do it in about fifteen minutes. Give me another ten and I can dye my temples grey.”
That look of incredulity makes me think about how gay that sounds. “I’m studying to be a special effects guy. I totally pull off old. You want wrinkles? I’m really good at those.”
She laughs in a nervous kind of way that means no, but she says, “Oddly enough that’s actually comforting.”
“So what do you say? Tomorrow? Same place? About six? I’ll buy you a coffee and a pastry.”
“Big spender!” She laughs for real this time. But she pulls back in a way that tells me I haven’t won her over on the idea.
“Hey, you took a chance on me.” I raised my arms in offering. “I came a-running, so give me a chance.” I smile as big as the corners of my mouth can go. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
She purses her lips, not in a scowl, but in a trying-not-to-laugh way. “All right.”
Even though I just fucked myself out of a lay tonight, I have a date with a woman tomorrow. “You want me older than you? Ten years older? The same age?”
“Not too old.” She drawls looking at me with different eyes. I like it. She is evaluating me or rather peering inside me. “Maybe a little younger than me.”
That smile of hers is really something. Light, carefree, promising playful teasing and, oh damn, I’d do anything to see that mouth wrapped around my cock. The thought makes my dick act like some marsupial’s prehensile monster. Somewhere along the line my wanting became less desperate and more yearning. I ache in a different way. Not only for release. I wanted her to know me. Satomi isn’t some chick to pick up at a bar or a coffee shop. She is a goddess to be worshipped. The kind of goddess that receives and reciprocates.
“You boost my ego.” She sighs. “I’d better let you go.”
Not after that comment. “I’ll see you to your door.”
And so we are -- at a door. Number one twenty three. A question drags up my balls and through my mouth. “May I kiss you goodnight?”
She looks so venerable. Her eyes grew big. A stammering Satomi is irresistible.
I shouldn’t have pushed. She’d kissed me just a moment ago. But that came from a lust she controlled. I hope she didn’t think I expected anything. Okay, yes, she led me down this road, but it’s not ON until the clothes are OFF. I shouldn’t have said anything but the last word—“Goodnight.” Torn in that moment of indecision, whether to take the lead or allow her the choice, I freeze. She is a lady that can make up her mind. She has every right to refuse me. It is the wisest thing for her to do actually. She doesn’t know me. I am acting a little predatory. Shouldn’t I back off and let her take the lead?
I kiss her.
My tongue seeks to find what promises that mouth offers. She gives back. Two souls yearning to find each other in this slight dance of dominance. Sliding in and out, darting my way to the smooth underside of her tongue she chases me with her own intoxicating skill. My probing turns desperate while she takes in everything I give. I lean in close. My hips pump embarrassingly against her. My cue to pull away.
“Sorry.” I pant.
Satomi, wild eyed and panting, presses against the door wildcat style.
Fuck, I shouldn’t have done that. “I promise to be a perfect gentleman tomorrow, please forgive me.”
“I don’t want a gentleman.”
“Fuck Satomi, don’t say that. I’m a beast.”
“Gentlemen don’t get laid.”
I am perilously close to losing it. The rise in my heartbeat hasn’t slowed. I am not going to make it to my car or her bed. “Goodnight Satomi. I will see you tomorrow.” I turn knowing there isn’t much time. The front of my too small pants rub against my hard cock. I just have to make it around the corner.
Out of sight I slam face first against a bumpy stucco wall. I pump, one, two and then shameful bliss. My dick throbs in excruciating pleasure, annihilating any pride I might have left. God, I really have to take care of this celibacy thing. Two minutes of catching my breath later, I notice a chill in the air and my cold gooey front-side. Scraping myself off my concrete lover, I find the way back to my car.
Dick placated I go home. It feels so good to get under the covers and be able to fall asleep instead of fighting my hungry cock’s daily supplication.
* * *
Applying weird make-up or creating creatures from latex, molding and a paint kit isn’t as difficult as applying subtle natural-looking wrinkles. First, you have to get twenty-year-old skin looking less elastic. The aging process takes a bit of handy work and subtle strokes. So it’s very annoying when my attachment, located between my legs, acts like a fifth limb and starts asking for attention in the middle of applying the final touches. Don’t get me wrong. I love my dick. My dick brings me a lot of pleasure. I would not part with that portion of my anatomy. However, I can see the benefits of a detachable penis.
I put on jeans, a clean shirt and kept my mind off Satomi while I brush stroke my face with natural color dye. One of my friends said to me once that in the Victorian era guys use to wear make-up and preen for women. Originally, it was guys strutting around like peacocks for attention. All to get laid. God, my Satomi didn’t need to get dressed up for me. Her beauty was in how she made me want to try. Christ, I haven’t even had one date with her, and I’m already calling her “my” Satomi.
I pull back for a final look in the mirror. Not bad. I’ve got that Richard Gere thing going on. A little grey in the mane, a few crow’s feet. I really like how I aged the pallor in my cheeks. Even through my nervousness my dick waggles around. Fuck, did it think—oh wait, no, it doesn’t. I have to be the one to tell the fucker to calm down. As if that’s possible. My dick is a horny erratic mastiff chasing cats, pulling me around by the waist, while my brain gets left behind. It’s annoying.
The guy staring back at me though, he has control. Where youth and inexperience have agility, age has experience and wisdom. Yeah, that guy in the mirror has been through school, owns a house, and a dog. And he’s fucked lots of women. That guy frowns at me and amends that last sentence. No, he’s had women who adore him for what he brings to the table. Stability, feral masculinity and control. That guy is the guy I want to be. Fake it till you make it, baby.
Click below for Part 2 and the conclusion of Cougar Bait in the Coffee Shop.
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When I started, I noticed a theme occurring in my writing. It was about things I wanted to talk about, but didn't know how. Spreading my short stories out as a whole I realized I was a not "normal" girl trying to work in the confines of a "normal" world. I have now realized the un-normal is me and I'm just fine! I might push the limits of acceptable concepts in my writing, but that's why I write. Taboo Fiction are stories that explore relationships and human behavior. I love reader input so don't be shy about leaving me a message. Contact me here on my blog or my Facebook at:
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Thank you! I hope you enjoyed Cougar Bait in the Coffee Shop.
Excerpt for “But For You, Yes”
Copyright © 2012 S.N. McKibben
“Can I ask you a question?” I posed in the bed with my muscled arm flexed holding up my head. Thoughts swam around in my mind about how I should ask my girlfriend of six months my deal breaker question.
She rolled over slowly, staring at me with that oh-so-familiar serious look. Melonie was the intuitive type. She always knew when I wasn’t joking and when my jokes had truth to them. It made her an invaluable companion, along with her olive skin, ebony hair, and eyes with the power of a black hole. That combination of hers never failed to get me to “rise” to any occasion she wanted. Plenty of those occasions were kinky enough to make me have hope that this relationship could go much further than ones in the past and fulfill my sexual perverseness.
“What do think about back-door love?” I thought I was being as suave as possible about the subject but wasn’t reassured by her giggles and shaking head.
She climbed over me, pinned a kiss on my forehead and sauntered out of the bedroom. I lay there wondering what she had implied.
Damn woman, that wasn’t an answer. Again, her intuitive nature deflected my question. A metallic squeak followed by hissing water from the bathtub rang like a mating call. Excited that this may be a “yes” to my real question, I flung the covers over and strode to the shower.
She was already in, bent over adjusting the temperature, when I pushed the curtain aside and hopped in behind her. That friendly pull from my groin started the blood flowing, and I stroked myself in anticipation. Melonie straightened and turned to face me, “No.”
Her tone of finality shocked me. She was always the one to coherece me into nerve-wracking situations when it came to hot monkey sex. And she was telling me “no” for the first time. I caressed her smooth arms, “No to shower sex, or no to the other question?”
Other Taboo Fiction you'll love!
Lady Alene and the Widower
Cougar Bait in the Coffee Shop
The Demon Inside Me
Escape to Vampire Dam
Spoils of Allsveil
Room on the Broom
The witch and her cat are happily flying through the sky on a broomstick when the wind picks up and blows away the witch's hat, then her bow, and then her wand! Luckily, three helpful animals find the missing items, and all they want in return is a ride on the broom. But is there room on the broom for so many friends? And when disaster strikes, will they be able to save the witch from a hungry dragon?
My life is so much better now that I've seen this short.
No, I'm not being facetious.
This heartwarming story of making friends, being polite and returning a kind act all had me into this adventure for the whole ride.
Witches are normally shown as bad and this wonderful woman, who is also a witch, cleansed my heart of resentment. She was so different from the ugliness that can be portrayed as bad people that I wish there were more stories about witches doing charitable things.
The story reminded me of an older legend of a cow, a goat, a cat and a bird or mouse but I can't remember where they saved the farmer.
But I loved this story so much I needed to bring it to you.
I am grateful that Facebook group CELTS (link no longer available but wanted to give attribution) brought this to watch.
The full movie, not broken into chapters, is not on YOUTUBE and, alas you can no longer find it in parts.
I would Recommend this to Fans of:
*obviously safe for children