From Marilyn's site: "Dare to enter: Freak Parade is a no-holds barred, deliciously sensual, erotic novel with a social conscience."
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Freak Parade - Check it out!
From Marilyn's site: "Dare to enter: Freak Parade is a no-holds barred, deliciously sensual, erotic novel with a social conscience."
Thursday, July 8, 2010
The Author Who Made Me Love BDSM!
Please pop over to International Heat today and read the terrific blog posting about why T now loves BDSM. There's a contest over there too! Click here to check it out!
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Safe in His Arms - A Most Unusual Excerpt
Nearly done with the rough draft. Some fine tuning left to do.
Here is an excerpt in which we see Russell the sex worker plying his trade. He doesn't view his work as just "turning tricks". He sees it almost as a calling - reaching out to men who are lonely and in need of affection. This is not your typical m/m erotic sex scene, but I thought you might enjoy a peek...
“Hi,” he said, “I’m Russell. From the Garden. Are you Mr. James Smith?” The man squinted at him, pulled the screen door open and stepped back. “Come in,” he said in a quavering voice. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Russell stepped into the small foyer and was assailed by the strong though not unpleasant scent of the man’s cologne. His sparse hair was white and neatly combed over a pink scalp. Bright blue eyes shone from a face heavily lined with wrinkles. Even so, but the fine bone structure beneath was still evident, with high cheekbones and a square jaw.
He wore a crisp white shirt with a blue tie and gray trousers with a military-sharp crease down each leg. He was smiling shyly at Russell, his hands twisting nervously at chest level. “I’ve made some coffee. Would you like a cup?”
Russell smiled. “No thanks, Mr. Smith. I’m good. But if you’d care to—”
“No, no,” the old man said. “None for me. Too late in the day. To tell you the truth, I’m a little nervous,” he added unnecessarily. “I’ve never done this before.” He produced an odd smile that looked more like a grimace.
“Never called an escort service?”
“Never been with a man.”
Russell kept his expression neutral and nodded, waiting for more of an explanation, though if none was forthcoming, he wouldn’t pry. James Smith wouldn’t be the first client he’d been with who had waited most of their life before getting up the nerve to explore homosexual feelings.
“Well, I hope the experience measures up to your expectations, Mr. Smith. I’m honored to be your first.”
Mr. Smith chuckled, though he continued to wring his hands. “Please, call me James. I feel old enough without the mister business.”
“James it is.” Russell reached for the man’s hands, covering them both briefly with his own much larger hand. “This is your hour. I want to make you comfortable and happy. There’s no written script or agenda. Whatever works for you is what we’ll do, okay?”
James’ smile was genuine this time. “Okay, that sounds good to me. I like you.” He glanced at his watch, adding, “Time’s a wasting. I guess if you don’t want coffee…” he trailed off uncertainly.
“Would you like to show me your bedroom?” Russell asked, glancing toward the stairs.
“Excellent idea,” James said with a small, nervous laugh. He led the way up narrow stairs to the first door at the top. “After you.” James waved Russell into a small but immaculate bedroom. It was clear the rug had just been vacuumed, and the scent of lemon oil hung in the air.
“I, uh, I don’t know what comes next,” James said. Anxiety was radiating off him in waves, and Russell’s heart went out to him, thinking what courage it must have taken to even make the call to the escort service.
“How about let’s get to know each other a little? Would you like a massage? It might help you relax.”
“Okay, yes. That sounds good to me,” James said, but he stood stock still, making no move to undress.
Russell waited a few beats and then suggested, “Maybe you want to take off your pants and shirt so they don’t get wrinkled?”
“Oh! I, uh, okay. Yes, okay.”
Russell knelt in front of James, who flushed slightly and said with a small laugh, “Oh, the royal treatment, huh?”
“Absolutely.” Russell untied the laces of James’ spit shiny black shoes and pulled them off, one by one, along with the black dress socks. Carefully he unbuckled his belt and opened the fly, drawing the zipper down. James shut his eyes tight as Russell drew his trousers down, but didn’t protest. He didn’t try to remove the man’s boxer shorts, not yet, but couldn’t quite suppress the smile when he noticed the price tag still affixed to the waistband.
James unbuttoned his shirt himself and removed it, revealing pale, hairless skin. “Lie down and relax,” Russell urged. “I’ll just sit here beside you.” James obeyed, draping himself face down on the bed.
Gently, Russell began to smooth and lightly knead what little muscle remained on the man’s bony back. After a few minutes, Russell could feel James begin to relax. “So,” Russell said, “tell me a little bit about yourself. Why did you wait so long to be with a man? If you don’t mind my asking, that is.”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” James replied, settling more comfortably into the mattress. “I was married for fifty-four years to a wonderful woman. Back when I was coming up, homosexuality wasn’t an option, it was a perversion.”
He twisted toward Russell. “I remember the priest at my Sunday school, warning us that those kind of sick feelings were an aspersion against God, a crime against nature. He took us boys into a room one day, while a nun was no doubt doing a similar number on the girls, and told us that, not only was masturbation, or self abuse, as he’d called it, a sin that would send us straight to hell, but if we even thought about another boy in sexual terms, just the thought would be sufficient reason for God to cast us forever into the fires of hell.”
Russell shook his head, thinking how many lives had been ruined by the misguided censoring and condemnation of natural feelings and desires. Wasn’t life hard enough without that kind of bullshit being thrown at you?
“I bought it, the whole kit and caboodle,” James said with a deep sigh. “Married the first girl that’d have me and spent my life keeping those impure thoughts at bay. Luckily she was a good woman—my best friend. She died a year ago last May, rest her soul.” He was quiet a moment, before adding, “I got to thinking I don’t have a whole helluva lot of time left myself. I decided if I’m going to burn in the hell fires of eternity, I might as well do it right.” He barked a laugh.
“Now you,” he continued, “you’re just what the doctor ordered. I picked you out of that catalog they sent me. You remind me of Timothy Dylan, the redhead I bunked with in boot camp before being shipped off to Korea in nineteen hundred and fifty. He was big and tall like you, and built like a tank. I’ve never admitted this to a soul, and I’ll deny it if you say it outside this bedroom, but he’s the one who’s always come to mind, right in the moment of passion, if you know what I mean.”
“I do,” Russell replied, grinning at the man’s quaint turn of phrase. They were quiet for a while, as Russell continued the massage.
James rolled over suddenly, fixing Russell with an intense gaze. “You’re my birthday present, did you know that?” he announced with a grin. “I decided to treat myself.”
“Well then, Mr. Smith,” Russell said with an answering grin. “We must unwrap your present.”
The house was small and located in a modest neighborhood, not at all the sort of place the Garden’s usual clientele resided. Briefly Russell wondered how the frail old man who opened the door could afford to pay the escort service’s steep fees for an hour’s pleasure.
“Hi,” he said, “I’m Russell. From the Garden. Are you Mr. James Smith?” The man squinted at him, pulled the screen door open and stepped back. “Come in,” he said in a quavering voice. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Russell stepped into the small foyer and was assailed by the strong though not unpleasant scent of the man’s cologne. His sparse hair was white and neatly combed over a pink scalp. Bright blue eyes shone from a face heavily lined with wrinkles. Even so, but the fine bone structure beneath was still evident, with high cheekbones and a square jaw.
He wore a crisp white shirt with a blue tie and gray trousers with a military-sharp crease down each leg. He was smiling shyly at Russell, his hands twisting nervously at chest level. “I’ve made some coffee. Would you like a cup?”
Russell smiled. “No thanks, Mr. Smith. I’m good. But if you’d care to—”
“No, no,” the old man said. “None for me. Too late in the day. To tell you the truth, I’m a little nervous,” he added unnecessarily. “I’ve never done this before.” He produced an odd smile that looked more like a grimace.
“Never called an escort service?”
“Never been with a man.”
Russell kept his expression neutral and nodded, waiting for more of an explanation, though if none was forthcoming, he wouldn’t pry. James Smith wouldn’t be the first client he’d been with who had waited most of their life before getting up the nerve to explore homosexual feelings.
“Well, I hope the experience measures up to your expectations, Mr. Smith. I’m honored to be your first.”
Mr. Smith chuckled, though he continued to wring his hands. “Please, call me James. I feel old enough without the mister business.”
“James it is.” Russell reached for the man’s hands, covering them both briefly with his own much larger hand. “This is your hour. I want to make you comfortable and happy. There’s no written script or agenda. Whatever works for you is what we’ll do, okay?”
James’ smile was genuine this time. “Okay, that sounds good to me. I like you.” He glanced at his watch, adding, “Time’s a wasting. I guess if you don’t want coffee…” he trailed off uncertainly.
“Would you like to show me your bedroom?” Russell asked, glancing toward the stairs.
“Excellent idea,” James said with a small, nervous laugh. He led the way up narrow stairs to the first door at the top. “After you.” James waved Russell into a small but immaculate bedroom. It was clear the rug had just been vacuumed, and the scent of lemon oil hung in the air.
“I, uh, I don’t know what comes next,” James said. Anxiety was radiating off him in waves, and Russell’s heart went out to him, thinking what courage it must have taken to even make the call to the escort service.
“How about let’s get to know each other a little? Would you like a massage? It might help you relax.”
“Okay, yes. That sounds good to me,” James said, but he stood stock still, making no move to undress.
Russell waited a few beats and then suggested, “Maybe you want to take off your pants and shirt so they don’t get wrinkled?”
“Oh! I, uh, okay. Yes, okay.”
Russell knelt in front of James, who flushed slightly and said with a small laugh, “Oh, the royal treatment, huh?”
“Absolutely.” Russell untied the laces of James’ spit shiny black shoes and pulled them off, one by one, along with the black dress socks. Carefully he unbuckled his belt and opened the fly, drawing the zipper down. James shut his eyes tight as Russell drew his trousers down, but didn’t protest. He didn’t try to remove the man’s boxer shorts, not yet, but couldn’t quite suppress the smile when he noticed the price tag still affixed to the waistband.
James unbuttoned his shirt himself and removed it, revealing pale, hairless skin. “Lie down and relax,” Russell urged. “I’ll just sit here beside you.” James obeyed, draping himself face down on the bed.
Gently, Russell began to smooth and lightly knead what little muscle remained on the man’s bony back. After a few minutes, Russell could feel James begin to relax. “So,” Russell said, “tell me a little bit about yourself. Why did you wait so long to be with a man? If you don’t mind my asking, that is.”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” James replied, settling more comfortably into the mattress. “I was married for fifty-four years to a wonderful woman. Back when I was coming up, homosexuality wasn’t an option, it was a perversion.”
He twisted toward Russell. “I remember the priest at my Sunday school, warning us that those kind of sick feelings were an aspersion against God, a crime against nature. He took us boys into a room one day, while a nun was no doubt doing a similar number on the girls, and told us that, not only was masturbation, or self abuse, as he’d called it, a sin that would send us straight to hell, but if we even thought about another boy in sexual terms, just the thought would be sufficient reason for God to cast us forever into the fires of hell.”
Russell shook his head, thinking how many lives had been ruined by the misguided censoring and condemnation of natural feelings and desires. Wasn’t life hard enough without that kind of bullshit being thrown at you?
“I bought it, the whole kit and caboodle,” James said with a deep sigh. “Married the first girl that’d have me and spent my life keeping those impure thoughts at bay. Luckily she was a good woman—my best friend. She died a year ago last May, rest her soul.” He was quiet a moment, before adding, “I got to thinking I don’t have a whole helluva lot of time left myself. I decided if I’m going to burn in the hell fires of eternity, I might as well do it right.” He barked a laugh.
“Now you,” he continued, “you’re just what the doctor ordered. I picked you out of that catalog they sent me. You remind me of Timothy Dylan, the redhead I bunked with in boot camp before being shipped off to Korea in nineteen hundred and fifty. He was big and tall like you, and built like a tank. I’ve never admitted this to a soul, and I’ll deny it if you say it outside this bedroom, but he’s the one who’s always come to mind, right in the moment of passion, if you know what I mean.”
“I do,” Russell replied, grinning at the man’s quaint turn of phrase. They were quiet for a while, as Russell continued the massage.
James rolled over suddenly, fixing Russell with an intense gaze. “You’re my birthday present, did you know that?” he announced with a grin. “I decided to treat myself.”
“Well then, Mr. Smith,” Russell said with an answering grin. “We must unwrap your present.”
Sunday, June 20, 2010
BINGO WINNERS!!!
CONGRATULATIONS WINNERS!!
Diagonal: Jambrea Jo Jones
Down: Jamie Nare
Across: Debra Guyette
Double: Paige Purnell
Black Out: Leni Kaye
Down: Jamie Nare
Across: Debra Guyette
Double: Paige Purnell
Black Out: Leni Kaye
__._,_.___
Sunday, June 13, 2010
I wanted to give you an update on the latest novel, Safe in His Arms. I've been working very hard, and I am about to start the last chapter today! Though that is just the rough draft, meaning I will have finally got all the words on (virtual) paper, but there will still be a lot more work. I need to rework a couple of chapters that aren't quite right yet, but it's very exciting to get the whole story down, with the plot in place and the issues resolved and the characters fully fleshed out.
This is an intense novel, in terms of experience for our (anti)hero, Hank. Those of you who read Wicked Hearts know that Hank was not a likable man (to put it mildly). He could even be characterized, as the title implies, as wicked. Yet even for the wicked there is hope. It has been a wonderful challenge to move Hank through stages of anger and grief at the loss of the most important man in his life (Reese in Wicked Hearts ), to devastating loneliness, then the glimmer of a chance at love, which he blows, to rock bottom misery and despair, and then...slowly...a chance at something better, if he has the courage and the heart to seize it.
Hank is not your typical hero, and this is not your typical love story. It takes place against a BDSM backdrop, with Hank learning his submissive potential and the release and freedom he can find by letting go. His potential lover, Russell, isn't a typical hero either - he's a big 6'3" bear of a man, who happens to be a sex worker for a living, though the special brand of love for hire he provides is about a lot more than just turning tricks. He's had his share of heartbreak, and is very careful as a result.
Ok, I could go on all day about my boys. I know I'm in a good space with the novel, because I'm completely in love with them both. Time's a wasting (it's already 5:22 AM and I haven't even started yet! Behind schedule again!) so off I go to let my muse sing and my fingers fly.
Love, Claire
Monday, May 3, 2010
Submission Times Two Wins NLA-I Writing Award for Excellence!
I just got back from an amazing experience at the National Leather Alliance-International AGM Awards for Fiction. It was a huge honor to be awarded the prize for excellence in BDSM fiction for my novel, Submission Times Two. James Buchanan won honorable mention, with the novel, Hard Fall. The press release is posted as a separate blog entry.
I met a lot of really terrific people, including Dart, who writes an amazing blog chronicling his leather journey and sharing his experiences and insights. You can check out Dart’s Domain here!
Vince Andrews, president of the NLA-I, took me under his wing and made sure I had a table set up for my book signing event after the awards ceremony. I only brought about 25 books with me, which was all I could cram into my suitcase. I had no real idea what to expect, having never attended an NLA event before. The awards ceremonies came at the tail end of a weekend-long BDSM play and learning weekend called Tribal Fire, which was hosted by the Oklahoma chapter of the NLA-I.
The AGM (Annual General Meeting) was held in a small room filled with about 50 brothers and sisters in leather, who carried on a general meeting, discussed elective offices and committees and mundane matters dear to every organization’s heart (If I closed my eyes to the leather and chain, I could have been in a library foundation meeting or the local PTA—that is, until they started discussing the previous night’s play party.
Though I knew I’d been chosen as the recipient of the novel award, my heart was beating fast when the presenter and Awards Chairperson, Steve Vakesh, announced that Submission Times Two had won. I walked up to the podium and accepted the lovely plaque (which will hang above my writing desk and I know will inspire me in the days and years to come). I made a brief thank you speech, though I couldn’t really tell you now what I said. After gracious applause, I returned to sit behind my books at my little table, and once the meeting was concluded, folks came over to check out my books.
There were people from all walks of life and all orientations, including straight, bi, pansexual and gay. I have to say the most fun to sell my wares to were the young gay men, who picked up the books and handled them with awe, laughing and giggling with delight as they exclaimed, “Oh, I just love cowboys!” or “Sign it for my boy, Patrick.” As far as I know, none of the guys there had ever heard of me, so it’s possible this may be the start of something new and wonderful – a new market of gay leather men! I sold out my inventory in fifteen minutes, and I was absolutely tickled pink.
This is the third annual competition. Next year the NLA hopes to raise money so they can award cash prizes. In order to raise money, authors are encouraged to donate their work for an auction that will be held later this year. I donated a number of books and plan to donate more. They would like them signed by the author, as that increases the value. I strongly encourage other authors of gay BDSM fiction to consider donating. It’s a great marketing opportunity.
I feel so honored and delighted to have been included in their wonderful event. The writing contest is open to
all BDSM fiction and nonfiction. There are several categories. Authors are encouraged to enter their own work. It’s wonderful exposure and doesn’t cost a dime. Email Steve Vakesh, awards chairperson for details.
Here are a few pictures from the event. As you can see, I just couldn’t stop smiling! I’ll have more pictures in a few days, as a lovely woman named Caroline was busy snapping away throughout the awards ceremony.
The handsome guy without the hat is Dart (see link above) and the dashing young man with the hat is Vince Andrews, president of NLA-I and the rest are all me, grinning like a banshee!
Thanks for sharing in my excitement!
Respectfully submitted,
Claire
I met a lot of really terrific people, including Dart, who writes an amazing blog chronicling his leather journey and sharing his experiences and insights. You can check out Dart’s Domain here!
Vince Andrews, president of the NLA-I, took me under his wing and made sure I had a table set up for my book signing event after the awards ceremony. I only brought about 25 books with me, which was all I could cram into my suitcase. I had no real idea what to expect, having never attended an NLA event before. The awards ceremonies came at the tail end of a weekend-long BDSM play and learning weekend called Tribal Fire, which was hosted by the Oklahoma chapter of the NLA-I.
The AGM (Annual General Meeting) was held in a small room filled with about 50 brothers and sisters in leather, who carried on a general meeting, discussed elective offices and committees and mundane matters dear to every organization’s heart (If I closed my eyes to the leather and chain, I could have been in a library foundation meeting or the local PTA—that is, until they started discussing the previous night’s play party.
Though I knew I’d been chosen as the recipient of the novel award, my heart was beating fast when the presenter and Awards Chairperson, Steve Vakesh, announced that Submission Times Two had won. I walked up to the podium and accepted the lovely plaque (which will hang above my writing desk and I know will inspire me in the days and years to come). I made a brief thank you speech, though I couldn’t really tell you now what I said. After gracious applause, I returned to sit behind my books at my little table, and once the meeting was concluded, folks came over to check out my books.
There were people from all walks of life and all orientations, including straight, bi, pansexual and gay. I have to say the most fun to sell my wares to were the young gay men, who picked up the books and handled them with awe, laughing and giggling with delight as they exclaimed, “Oh, I just love cowboys!” or “Sign it for my boy, Patrick.” As far as I know, none of the guys there had ever heard of me, so it’s possible this may be the start of something new and wonderful – a new market of gay leather men! I sold out my inventory in fifteen minutes, and I was absolutely tickled pink.
This is the third annual competition. Next year the NLA hopes to raise money so they can award cash prizes. In order to raise money, authors are encouraged to donate their work for an auction that will be held later this year. I donated a number of books and plan to donate more. They would like them signed by the author, as that increases the value. I strongly encourage other authors of gay BDSM fiction to consider donating. It’s a great marketing opportunity.
I feel so honored and delighted to have been included in their wonderful event. The writing contest is open to
all BDSM fiction and nonfiction. There are several categories. Authors are encouraged to enter their own work. It’s wonderful exposure and doesn’t cost a dime. Email Steve Vakesh, awards chairperson for details.
Here are a few pictures from the event. As you can see, I just couldn’t stop smiling! I’ll have more pictures in a few days, as a lovely woman named Caroline was busy snapping away throughout the awards ceremony.
The handsome guy without the hat is Dart (see link above) and the dashing young man with the hat is Vince Andrews, president of NLA-I and the rest are all me, grinning like a banshee!
Thanks for sharing in my excitement!
Respectfully submitted,
Claire
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
It was a Dark and Stormy Night...
When you’re writing a novel, you want that first line to grab the reader by the balls, er, the throat, and not let go. I thought it would be fun to collect a few of folks’ favorite first lines, either of their own or by authors they admire. Below is a collection of some pretty terrific opening lines. If you have a few of your own, feel free to post them in the comments.
I’ll open with two of mine:
“I’m bored. Whose life can we destroy today?”
Wicked Hearts by Claire Thompson
Brendan stood like the perfect wet dream beneath the spray, his erect cock clutched in his hand.
Polar Reaction by Claire Thompson
From Readers:
Contributed by Lloyd Meeker
"For numberless years a myna had astounded travelers to the caravansary
with its ability to spew indecencies in ten languages, and before the
fight broke out everyone assumed the old blue-tongued devil on its perch
by the fireplace was the one who maligned the giant African with such
foulness and verve."
Gentlemen of the Road by Michael Chabon
Contributed by Laura Flocker:
with its ability to spew indecencies in ten languages, and before the
fight broke out everyone assumed the old blue-tongued devil on its perch
by the fireplace was the one who maligned the giant African with such
foulness and verve."
Gentlemen of the Road by Michael Chabon
Contributed by Laura Flocker:
It began, as a lot of things do, in bed.
Dark Tides by Josh Lanyon
Contributed by Jean Paquin
(Note: The speaker is a parrot)
"Oooh, baby. Luscious Lips. Wanna gimme some head, sweetcheeks?"
Outback Meltdown by Alexis Fleming
Contributed by Alan H Chin:
Ennis Del Mar wakes before five, wind rocking the trailer, hissing in around the aluminum door and window frames. The shirts hanging on a nail shudder slightly in the draft.
Brokeback Mountain by Annie Proulx
Brokeback Mountain by Annie Proulx
From Authors – Their Own Personal Favorites
In the deserted men’s restroom at the back of Middleton Community College, Sam Keller knelt on the tile, braced his hands against Keith Jameson’s thighs, and broke his mother’s heart.
Dominic Mackenzie turned into the rest area parking lot, his dick hardening in sight of the squat brick building located directly off the interstate outside of his hometown. Other than the closet, there was no gay scene in Smithville.
Tempestuous Relations by Amanda Young
Buy Link: http://bit.ly/cs6voj
Buy Link: http://bit.ly/cs6voj
No one can hear the screams, the cries for mercy, and the shrieks of agony.
In the Blood by Rick Reed
In the Blood by Rick Reed
A vampire walked into a bar.
Stefan's Salvation by NJ Walters
The night had turned cold while they were in the Brig, one of Chicago’s oldest and most infamous leather establishments.
Bashed by Rick Reed
Bashed by Rick Reed
Men suck.
Christina's Tapestry by NJ Walters
It was the screams that woke him.
Craving Candy by NJ Walters
His brother had thought Hell a fiery abyss, but Nicolas Montfaucon knew better. It was wet, smelled like a sewer, and sounded like the rush of collective hopes draining toward the sea.
Seduced by Darkness by Delilah Devlin
My cat started acting deranged, could it be cuz her diet I changed?
There is blood on my hands.
There’s no place like home. The police substation didn’t sit at the end of the rainbow or anywhere near Kansas, but for some reason that stupid phrase ran like a mantra through Sinead O’Rourke’s head as she drew a deep breath and pushed through the double-doors leading into the station house.
Sin’s Gift by Delilah Devlin
Without money for a cab or the gonads to hitchhike, what should have been a fifteen-minute drive to the countryside took Declan Mayo almost two hours by foot.
I just wanted a hot meal and hotter bathwater.
Tengo una Pistola (Cocked & Fully Loaded Anthology) by Bryl R. Tyne
Buy Link: https://www.nobleromance.com/BrowseListing.aspx?author=59
New York City and it's pouring, which means no taxis in New Yorkese.
Buy Link: https://www.nobleromance.com/BrowseListing.aspx?author=59
New York City and it's pouring, which means no taxis in New Yorkese.
My Life as a Concubine by Robin Glasser
I awoke one morning from uneasy dreams to find my penis had transformed itself into a vagina.
Man-Amorphosis by Rick Reed
Man-Amorphosis by Rick Reed
Death didn't have to be easy, but couldn't it be a little cheaper?
Hacking Immortality by Maura Anderson
Buy Link: http://www.realmsoftheraven.com/free-stories/flash-fiction/#HackingImmortality
What are some of your favorites? Let us know in the comments!
What are some of your favorites? Let us know in the comments!
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