Amelie is one of the characters that I really enjoy writing.  She’s a woman who enjoys the hunt for her evening’s entertainment.  The story opens with her in a restaurant where she is eating alone.  She is observant, has been watching the eyes of the men in the room since she came through the door.  She knows what they are thinking and tells the reader as much.

The man, sitting two tables over, facing the front, memorized every inch of me as soon as I cleared the doorway. It was a bottom to top look. His face gave it all away and I could tell he appreciated what he saw when we finally made eye contact. He is in his fifties but fit, gray hair, blue eyes, and you can tell he has always been a charmer. He is wealthy from years of working in an office. He has bought his wife a number of pretty things which, usually means, he has had multiple dalliances over their years of marriage, none satisfying, just mere distractions. He is rougher with them, the secretary from the office or the bartender at his favorite watering hole. He is passionate with them, uses his strength when he fucks them wherever he can find room and time, the secretary across his desk, the bartender in the back room. He is no longer this way with his wife. He is instead, when they do make love, tender and careful. He doesn’t know why. If he were in the wild, I might take him home, just to teach him a lesson.

I love the way she thinks throughout the story.  Amelie knows as much about herself as she does the men around her.  She understands the power she had over men, the way that her body stirs them, but she also knows the end result of their fantasies, the reality of the situation that supersedes what they are imagining.

She is careful, observant, and strong.  She knows what she wants and how to deal with anything that gets in her way.  She addresses her prey from the very beginning as if she is writing the story to him, the man she will meet later, who is sitting at a bar that she will visit after dinner.

Like I said, she is one of my favorite characters but not just because of the way she thinks or talks but also because of the way she handles herself in the bedroom.  She is playful and teasing.  Foreplay is one of her favorite games and she relishes the way it makes her feel.

I climb up halfway between your legs and kiss your neck, lick the sheen of sweat that has risen there. My nipples drag along your chest sending shivers through me. You sigh as I kiss my way down your chest. I stare up at you as I plant each kiss. I stop on each nipple and let my tongue graze the little bit of flesh and they stiffen. I twist my fingers in your chest hair and tug playfully. You watch me and quietly chuckle. I look down and see my new toy. I put my hands high on your thighs and kiss down around your belly button. Your breathing speeds up; I can almost hear your heart banging against your chest. I spread your legs a little wider and slip off the couch onto my knees in front of you.

Amelie is featured in 3 published stories so far.  She is in the collection Max, Katie & Amelie, (The Hunter), she is the narrator in The Mirror, and the narrator’s obsession in Opening Night.  All of the titles are available on Amazon just by clicking on the link at the top of the post.  She’s a sultry little vixen and I can’t wait to see what she does next.

The Mirror

The Mirror
This story is a little different than the usual fair I like to write.  It’s a single scene, almost a flash fiction style of story.  It’s a first person account of a woman who is getting ready for hot Friday night.  The woman is Amelie, a character that has always been one of my favorites.  She is the narrator, so it’s a first person view of herself.  The story includes masturbation and sexual fantasy.  It’s a pretty graphic story, hot and steamy.  I really enjoyed writing it.  If you would like to go check it out you can click on the title above to follow a link to it at Amazon.

Here’s a teaser from the story.  Hope you enjoy it!  Feel free to post a comment and let me know what you think.

I love getting dressed.  I love it because it’s all backwards.  It’s preparation.  After a long work week, Friday night is my favorite.  I come home from work, shower, and then stand in front of my bedroom mirror wrapped in a towel.  My hair is still damp, the long curls scattered haphazardly around my face, sticking to my skin.  I look at myself.  My breasts smashed beneath the wrap of the towel, the flesh just bubbling over the top.  I twist a little, run my fingers along the place where the towel overlaps, the flap of fabric that starts at my breasts and runs down the length of me stopping just below my waist.  Amazing how a slit casts a shadow that invites the eye.  It almost forces you to imagine what the cloth is hiding.  I turn halfway, the towel is just short enough to see bottom of my ass, the two tight curves of the cheeks.  I turn in the mirror to the see myself in profile.  My long legs are exposed.  I run my eyes up from the ankles; I like the curves of my body.  My legs are toned and smooth.  I push my chest out and arch my back; my shape becomes a long line of curves, the seam’s edge holding all of my little secrets.
I tug it from the bottom, the towel, and let it come un-tucked at the top.  It opens and falls at the same time unwrapping me.  Even my eyes focus on my breasts, their round fullness bouncing into view, the playful shadow they cast above my belly as they hang.  The pink nipples grow erect as soon as the room’s air touches them.  No wonder the men at the office always try to stand at a certain angle when they approach my desk or turn their heads when I bend over.  Sometimes I drop things and, while I am bending at the waist, aimed at where they are standing, I glance up and catch them looking.  It’s a little thrilling to catch them, everyone likes a forbidden peek.

First Post!

So, this week, I decided to start publishing a few of the erotic, naughty little stories that have been laying around  in folders on my computer forever.  I read over them, cleaned them up (actually made them a little dirtier than before), and started the arduous task of putting them on Amazon and Smashwords.  It has been a learning experience.
I am so glad that so many of you have already downloaded my free short story, The Mirror, on Smashwords!  Super exciting to watch those numbers climb and read the reviews.  Over two hundred reads in two days!
So, I decided to make a little spot on the web for myself.  I may rearrange things, move them around a bit from time to time, but this is where I will be if anyone needs me.  Here is a link, a sample, and the cover art for a short story I published yesterday.  Hope you enjoy it!

I pushed the theatre door open and looked around.  There was no one in sight.  My heart fell a little.  To the right, the hall was empty all the way down, past three theatre alcoves to the snack back area and to the left was one more theatre on the same side as ours and then a dead end.  I looked right again, hoping against hope that I would see her, but there was nothing.  I took a few steps out into the empty hall and looked to the left.  A shoe slid out of the alcove to the theatre next to ours.  It was hers; I recognized the black straps of her high heel that crisscrossed her ankle.  I watched her leg continue to slide into view, the slender calf muscle, her knee, and then the milky skin of her thigh.  It continued to slide into view, more and more of her creamy thigh flesh.  My mind wondered at the fact that there was no skirt hem.  Such a tease!  I thought.  I turned and started walking her way.  She peeked past the edge of the wall, her eyes twinkling and a smile on her lips.Four steps later, I slipped into the little alcove.  I grabbed her wrists and lifted them above her head, pinning them to the wall as I pressed my body into her and kissed her lips.  Her mouth was hot and our tongues dashed out and tangled between our mouths.  She fought the grip on her wrists and pushed her breasts into my chest.  I held her there, kissing her, and then burying my face in her neck and hair.  She sighed and slid a long leg between mine, caressing my thigh with hers. 

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