Editorial Changes? None. After all my previous experiences, this one went through without a hitch - Yes, even the one about the Minotaur!
This collection was commissioned after Black Lace had decided to officially turn its back on paranormal erotica once again, so like Cruel Enchantment it ploughs a bit of a lonely furrow.
Dishonour‘Do you really want this?’ he groaned.
She whimpered. Then he lifted her face to his and kissed her. His lips were dry and a little chapped, and there was no anger in them at all, just deep pain and a fervent, haunted desire. She shook beneath them, opening to him, dissolving as his kisses soaked into her. He tasted of wine and blood and exhaustion, but he was warm on her cold skin and she pressed trembling against him. A tear she had not held back slipped down over her cheek and he caught it on his thumb before brushing his lips across the planes of her face, as if he were tasting her skin.
‘Have you prayed to Tesub?’ he breathed, his mouth hot at her ear and throat.
‘Hhh?’ She was incapable of speech at that moment.
‘Ask her to accept your maiden sacrifice.’
Plot: Fantasy. Surya is a young noblewoman who has a crush on Lord General Mershen. Unfortunately the Empire has been riven by civil war and her family picked the losing side. Now that the final battle is over, the Emperor sends out soldiers to execute every one of Surya's family - and Mershen volunteers to be the one to kill her. Surya's last request is that she doesn't die a virgin...
Sexual Themes: Straight.
Notes:
Young inexperienced woman, older warrior man - my default setting.
I wrote this after going through a stage of reading a lot of Manga comics - the ones with a pseudo-historic setting in particular, with their melieu of courage and cruelty and cultivated beauty. I wanted to write something with that atmosphere of duty, tragedy and doom, but there was no way I had the time to learn the vocabulary and culture for a Japanese setting, so I returned to one of my own: the Eternal Empire that you'll find in my novel Divine Torment. That had the requisite warrior-culture for me to draw on, and it helped me to already know details of religion and uniform too.
The other source for this story was the scene in the TV series Rome in which one of the main characters, Titus Pullo, is sent off to carry out the political execution of the statesman Cicero - whose last words were said to have been, "There is nothing proper about what you are doing, soldier, but do try to kill me properly." The emotional tension of that scene, the dignity of the victim and absolute lack of malice on the part of the executioner really struck me, so I felt it was a situation worth writing about.
The title "Dishonour" refers both to Surya's impending loss of virginity, and Mershen's decision to cast aside his honour and do something that his peers would regard as treacherous.
Spoiler: It has a happy ending.
Pique
Dame‘There’s the bar at the Hilton.’
‘I’d love to.’ I ran my hand over the back of a chair. ‘But I can’t.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Hm?’
‘I’m…’ I bit my lip. ‘I’m married.’
‘Ah. Fair enough.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘So am I,’ he admitted.
‘I’d have liked to though,’ I blurted out as he turned away. ‘You know.’
He held me with his gaze one beat longer. ‘Yes. I know.’ A moment of aching frustration passed between us, unspoken. Then he stepped in toward me and I thought that he wasn’t taking no for an answer. He took my hands in his and I thought how big and warm his were compared to mine. And I thought I was sure I was capable of denying myself - but not if he pushed it, not if he took control, not if he touched me. Please, I thought: just kiss me and it won’t be my fault.
Plot: Contemporary paranormal. Tanya is the lead soprano in an amateur (but upscale) version of the Tchaikovsky opera Pique Dame. The lead tenor is Elliot Wells, a professional singer who happens - unusually in the UK opera scene - to be black. His presence seems to have stirred up the opera house ghost, who takes a very personal interest. As the final performance approaches the haunting grows ever more intrusive and emotions on and off-stage start to run wild...
Sexual Themes: Straight. Exhibitionism.
Notes:
"Pique Dame" is the French term for the card the Queen of Spades. The plot of the opera (based on a story by Pushkin) revolves around a young soldier who is addicted to gambling and desperate to learn the supernatural card-playing secret of an old Russian aristocrat, so he seduces her granddaughter. When he accidentally brings about the old woman's death the girl kills herself and the ghost of the old lady takes a horrid revenge.
This story was suggested to me by an opera-singing friend who said words to the effect that Pique Dame was a sexy opera with ghosts which would suit me to a T, so why didn't I write something around that?
The ghost really functions as a deus ex-machina rather than as a source of horror or eroticism. He is the voyeur.
Confession: opera is not an art form that I understand or really appreciate, I'm afraid. My only other experience of enjoying it was seeing the ENO perform Don Giovanni when I was a little lass (Don Giovanni also has sex and a ghost in it). I'd really loved the film Amadeus you see, and my parents took me to the opera in the hope that some high culture would stick. It didn't.
But I did find researching and writing this story fascinating.
And
Their Flying Machines‘No!’ she gasped.
‘Why not, lass?’ he growled. ‘Am I not good enough for you?’ The hand that
wasn’t pinning
her head
moved to
the front of her flying suit and worked dextrously at the hooks and
eyes holding it closed. She pushed feebly at his hand with her own, but
she was weak with shock. He revealed the silk chemise beneath the
leather and his hand moved on her breastbone and her left breast,
chafing the nipple into reaction. ‘Now don’t tell
me a girl
of your spirit hasn’t tried some things out with her
fiancé already. I’ll bet Lord Atherstone has had a
handful
of these pretty wee things.’Plot: Steampunk with a quasi-British Empire setting. Charlotte Laindon-Royse wants to fly. Specifically she want to fly an armed ornithopter to defend Victoria City against attack in the crucial stages of the war. Of course well-bred young ladies are not permitted to do that sort of thing, so she has to bypass the usual authorities and persuade McGregor the chief engineer to give her a chance to prove her worth. He seems to be on her side, but on the night before the critical attack he assaults her...
Sexual Themes: Straight. Coercion.
Notes:
I went to see Stardust at the cinema and when I got home I had to write a steampunk story STRAIGHT AWAY. That's it. T'was the clothes...
This was one of the two stories I submitted as a partial to Black Lace to get the contract for writing the whole collection.
This one's a love story and uses a lot of trad Romance tropes. A tale of class and gender conflict and reconciliation. My two main characters have a tremendously difficult time communicating with each other, but don't give up. I liked the contrast between McGregor's puritanical streak and what he actually does to Charlotte.
The burly working-class Scottish engineer with a hard-drinking past ... well, no prizes for guessing who I used as a muse. No, not the guy off Star Trek.
The title "And Their Flying Machines" comes from a movie title which begins "Those Magnificent Men".
Despite being a straight-up romance this story is a bit tricky because it contains a violent coercive sex-scene - which for me is made particularly uncomfortable by the sense that he is betraying her trust. I said a long time ago that I didn't do rape fantasy, but this comes extremely close. I did keep some get-out clauses, though for those who disapprove on principle of women fantasising about being forced (which as far as I can tell damns the whole of the Romance genre, where you are WAY more likely to come across rape presented with a positive spin than you are in Erotica), that might only make it worse.
Those get-out clauses are:
1) He does it for a very specific reason, with the intention of saving her life.
2) She doesn't seriously try to stop him even though given ample opportunity and being conscious that she is showing restraint, and I make that very clear, I think: "she didn't cry out for help or scream abuse at him ... although she twisted wildly in his arms, she didn't hit at his eyes or his throat or anywhere that would have caused real damage ... She kicked at his chest and thighs but not his head ... She thrashed like a wild thing in his grip but she didn't grab at any of the machine parts in easy reach to strike him with."
3) As the author with privileged insight into my hero's head, I can categorically state that if she had reacted badly he would have stopped.
That sounds soooo dodgey doesn't it? All I am going to say is that in the fictional context presented, with those particular characters who are both combatative and strong-willed, I don't count it as rape. Real life is rather different, so don't imagine that I'd see any of the above as an excuse for behaving badly.
Ruby
Seeds‘Shall I?’ He moves to take the glass from my hand – but I’m quivering with tension and in the exchange I manage to spill a little down the side and onto
his fingers.
I laugh and lift the flute and his hand in both of mine, so that I can
lick the dribble first from the cool hard glass and then, my eyes never
leaving his, from his fingers. I lap those knuckles and suck one long
finger into my mouth, teasing the sensitive skin with my tongue even as
I hold it captive. ‘Oh God,’ says he softly, with
reverence.I take the glass and throw it over my shoulder. It hits a bush somewhere in the garden below. He touches my mouth with his other hand too, as if wondering how much I can fit between my full lips.
‘There’s got to be a quiet room somewhere…’
‘No.’ I pull my lips from his fingertips. ‘Out here.’
Plot: Contemporary paranormal. Saffy is looking for action. First at a party, where she gets off with a good-looking stranger - but their liaison is interrupted by the jealous Demi. Saffy stalks off into the urban night in a bad mood. Then she's pursued down the dark streets by a biker ...
Sexual Themes: Straight. Coercion.
Notes:
My take on the Persephone myth, which I have long thought needed reclaiming from the patriarchy (!)
:-)
Okay, I'm not going to repeat my rant about Greek Mythology (you can find that in my author's notes for Cruel Enchantment elsewhere on this website), but frankly the Persephone myth is a nasty little thing that seriously needs reworking. Nor am I the only one to have a go - Violet Blue does it in her introduction to Best Women's Erotica 2009 (in which I happen to feature, ahem).
This is the other story I submitted as a partial in order to get the Black Lace contract. And like And Their Flying Machines it's a coercive themed story, but this time less close to the knuckle. Black Lace has never had any problem with male-dom.
"Ruby Seeds" refers of course to pomegranate pips - the eating of which bound Persephone to be Hades' wife for part of the year.
The party setting is actually one I attended on the top floor of a London hotel, hosted by Black Lace for London Book Week in 2007. Us Black Lace authors spent the night out on the balcony for some reason. I chatted to a couple of journalists and got air-kissed by a notorious best-selling writer who didn't have the faintest idea who I was. They served lots of white wine but barely any food and we all got happily sloshed - it was my one taste of the supposedly sophisticated life of a writer!
Cold
Hands: Warm Heart‘I don’t like this,’ I stammered.
'Really? You should get a handful of what I’ve got.’ He squeezed, and she
moaned and surged into his grip, her
shoulders
writhing against my chest.‘Morgan!’
‘Stop being such a bloody prude, man.’ He sniggered, and I could see the doubt and the nervousness evaporate from him. ‘She’s frantic for this; can’t you see?’ He grinned foxily. ‘Maybe this is what she wanted all along, all those years. Think about it – she came to the house desperate to make the beast with two backs with Lord Price, and died unfulfilled. Maybe all she’s needed is for someone to give her what she wants. Maybe she just needs the Master of Levingshall to give her a good, hard seeing-to.’
Plot: A traditional ghost story, set pre-WW1. Morgan, the owner of Levingshall house, takes his best friend Thorpe to the deserted property to sit vigil for the ghost that is supposed to turn up and kill the landowner who dares stay the night. Supposedly a 17th Century woman drowned in the river after being wronged by the Master of the House, and returns to take vengeance on his descendants. And indeed an ice-cold, mute and pulseless young woman does turn up, wringing wet. But she's also clearly eager to have sex with Morgan. Her passivity and seeming immunity to pain brings out the sadist in him and Thorpe is drawn in to a threesome that lasts all night ... to a dawn that brings a very nasty surprise.
Sexual Themes: Threesome (M/f/M). Female submission. Necrophilia is suggested rather than explicit.
Notes:
I think I wrote this story with an evil smirk on my face all the way through. I am a massive fan of M R James and this is another homage to the master of the classic ghost-story genre.
The title "Cold Hands: Warm Heart" has a number of layers of meaning, which delights my pun-loving soul. But it really was a saying of my Grandmother's.
One of the comforting features of the classic ghost story (as opposed to the modern one, wherein the brutality of the supernatural world is just as random as that of the natural) is that paranormal vengeance is usually visited on a deserving victim. The protagonist will have provoked the ghost either by a criminal act, arrogance, or sheer stupidity - for example, by wilfully ignoring numerous warnings. This allows the reader to sit back and think, "You deserved that, fool," and "It wouldn't have happened to me," and "There is justice after all." So I made sure Morgan totally deserves what happens to him, and Thorpe (who is well-intentioned but weak-willed and allows himself to be dominated by Morgan) gets off lightly, with a hell of a fright.
Any undercurrent of a homosexual crush you may detect in Thorpe for Morgan is entirely intentional.
The
Scent of HawthornThe dryad jumped up onto the rocks and straddled his hips. He couldn’t even
raise his head to look down at
those
naked thighs. ‘So - Does the guest-bed suit you?’
He groaned.
‘A little hard on the back? What a pity.’ She bent and licked the blood streaks on his chest; he was surprised to learn that her mouth was warm. ‘Still, you did arrive at very short notice, without invitation. You must make allowances.’
His heart was racing; she must be able to feel its thud against her lips as she sipped from him.
Plot: Historical fantasy. Herrick is a Lombard knight in late 7th Century Italy. He has made it his mission to search for the last of the monsters that have lingered on into the Christian period and to destroy them.When he hears about a remote wood that is home to a dryad who kills anyone who enters, he girds his loins one more time and goes to battle. But the dryad is far stronger than he ever imagined...
Sexual Themes: Male submission and masochism, dominant female.
Notes:
"The scent of hawthorn is the scent of death." This folk quotation was something that got lost from Wildwood during the final rewrite, so I used it as the theme for this story. Hawthorn or May blossom has the odd quality of sometimes smelling sweet and floral, sometimes very strongly like spunk, and sometimes like rotting meat - all varying by individual tree and how old the blossom is. This connection between death and sex is one of the reasons it's said to be unlucky to bring the blossom into a house.
Herrick is a character I find very sympathetic (though certainly many readers might regard him a prick). He's an elite knight now reaching middle age, and completely loyal to his king - but because he's of a religion that is being sidelined as heretical, he has fallen out of favour at court and been forced to live alone. He's naturally idealistic and longs for a powerful and morally pure leader to whom he could devote himself, but at every stage of his life he's seen ideals broken and cast aside. He no longer believes that there is worth in most humans, whom he sees living lives little above those of farm animals. He has an addict's relationship to pain and risk - in a world that has become grey and meaningless to him pain is the one thing that makes him feel still alive. He needs the dryad. Meeting her - and having her nearly kill him - feels like coming home.
I write male submissives only rarely, and tend to like one trope in particular: the bleeding, suffering, captive warrior.
Herrick is a Lombard, who were Germanic tribespeople who established a kingdom in northern Italy following the collapse of the Western Roman Empire. They were originally Arians, though they did eventually convert to Roman Catholicism. Herrick is still an Arian, which means that although he would regard himself as a Christian he does not believe that Christ was of one being with God, but instead a subordinate created entity. Most Christian heresies of the Middle Ages were to do with trying to define the nature of Jesus - divine, human, both in combination, both but separate ... Oh, easily an excuse for butchering each other.
ChimaeraHe’s there on the sand: the man from the Chimaera. I’m not perturbed; he likely works at one of the pensiyons nearby. He’s wearing loose red trousers
and a
long-sleeved white T-shirt which glows against his skin. He’s
watching me. The heat reflected from the sand makes the air around him
dance.I pull my mask off completely, smoothing back my wet hair. I’m aware that now I’m standing my breasts, cupped in their pink bikini top, are clear of the water. They feel heavy in their lycra sling, and the sea is cool enough to have hardened my nipples to points. Water droplets pearl my bare skin. There’s no mistaking that he’s looking straight at me, though it’s not possible to be sure of his expression.
Plot: Contemporary paranormal, set in on the Turkish coast and in Istanbul. The un-named narrator is a newlywed honeymooning with her husband. Visiting the Chimaera - a fiery natural phenomenon of the region - one night, she makes a wine offering to the spirit of the fire. From then on she is watched at a distance by a tall, handsome man. He follows her to Istanbul and confronts her in an underground cistern. Then when a bomb goes off near their restaurant he saves them both from the fire that follows - fire to which he seems immune. Finally he meets her on the street and takes her into a ruined bath-house to consummate their mutual obsession...
Sexual Themes: Straight.
Notes:
Chimaera: 1) a real place on the Lycian coast where flames issue from the earth. If extinguished they spontaneously reignite. This is the supposed location where Bellepheron fought ... 2) The monster of classic mythology. It has the body and head of a lion, but an extra goat's head too, and its tail is a snake. It breaths fire.
This monster is a recurring symbol for the 'man' persuing the narrator. She suggests that the lion symbolises strength and magnificence, the goat symbolises lust and the snake symbolises wisdom and evil (and possibly the Devil). All these are quite applicable.
I've been to Istanbul a couple of times and absolutely loved my time there - it is a place of such history and atmosphere and interest. In fact a two week tour of Turkey was the best holiday I've been on yet. We visited the Chimaera where I accidentally extinguished one of the flames (for a few seconds) with a splash of wine, so I wrote this story to atone.
This is the first story where I've ever used 'Google' as a verb.
In Islamic tradition Satan (Iblis) is not a fallen angel but the leader of the Ifrit (spellings vary) whose elemental nature is fire. There are lots of Ifrit around, generally but not necessarily hostile to human beings and desirous of tempting them away from God. Mine doesn't actually do anything more evil than luring someone into adultery, so I'm not suggesting that this was Iblis himself.
I did want to set the climactic scene in one of the little ruined mosques that I'd seen in Istanbul, but I thought better of that at a very early stage. Terrorism works.
Scratch‘Kiss her,’ the stranger ordered in a voice both quiet and implacable. Maarten leaned in, his lips finding hers. She was still gasping for breath. Her mouth
was soft and wet, her
tongue slippery under his, and he was shaking so hard he felt he might
collapse. He could taste it - the stranger’s spend
– sharp
and salty, and he wanted to die for shame. Then her hand fumbled past
his and found his cock, stroking it as if comforting a frightened and
frantic animal, and he groaned into her mouth even as tears spilled
down his cheeks.‘Now stand up Goodman Gansevoort, and prepare your wife for me. Remove her clothes and lay her upon the marriage-bed.’
Plot: Historically-set paranormal (early 1700s). Mercy Gansevoort is a farmer's wife in colonial America. But Mercy has a past. Years ago, when she lived in Salem Village as a young woman, she had a Master ... and he hasn't forgotten her. When Nicholas Scratch comes to call, Mercy owes him some personal attention - and Mercy's husband Maarten has little choice but to accede.
Sexual Themes: Cuckolding. Threesome (M/F/m) including some M/m.
Notes:
This one I do not expect to go down well in the Bible Belt. My dark stranger, Nicholas Scratch - a.k.a. "Old Nick," "Old Scratch" - is definitely Lucifer, the Light Bringer.
On the other hand I'm not doing anything any different to The Witches of Eastwick.
Absolutely no disrespect to the real people accused of witchcraft in Salem is intended, and I do make the point in the story that only the innocent were convicted by the authorities. (I have been to Salem, during a holiday in New England. The exhibition about the witch trials is moving and upsetting.)
This story stems from my taking a look at some hotwife/cuckolding websites - the emotional dynamic of this kink seems to me powerful and fascinating. There's such a potent blend of jealousy, exhibitionism, betrayal and the breaking of strong cultural taboos. The idea that a husband could get strongly aroused by seeing his wife having sex with another man - particularly a man who is superior or more dominant - is a direct attack on the standard model we lazily assume for the "loving couple". Not to mention that it allows the woman non-monogamous sex while still being engaged in a loving relationship...
The result of my surfing was both this story (told from the point of the jealous/aroused husband) and Honey Trap in the Black Lace anthology Seduction (2009) (where it's told from the point of view of the wife).
The story idea - wife beholden to supernatural entity, husband drawn in to take part - came to me before the historical setting. Only when it occured to me what the identity of the Stranger had obviously to be, did I find the Colonial American setting.
Maarten is of Dutch origin because the area the story is set in was formerly the colony of New Netherland.
Mercy is one of my favourite female characters: older than most, experienced, witchy and consciously sexy.
I'm slightly annoyed by this story now because I actually feel it is a few hundred words too short. I was deliberately briefer than is my wont when writing the M/m stuff because I was worried it would be censored, and I regret my caution now. It would have been better to try for more and get knocked back a bit, than write something that now comes across to me as too terse.
The
Red
Thread‘I just want to see.’
‘Why?’
‘To see whether you’re the same as other men.’
It was easy to pull the cloth aside; he did not stop me. A sigh escaped my lips. His phallus lay flopped in a curve on his upper thigh, smooth and soft-looking like the finest kidskin, but stirring restlessly even as I watched. His foreskin pouted, wrinkly. ‘Am I the same, then?’ He sounded a little bitter.
‘You look bigger. Can I touch it?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
Strain was audible in his voice as he said, ‘Because if you touch it, it might get angry, and then I will hurt you.’
Plot: Fantasy with an Ancient Greek setting. Ari is a young princess. Beneath her palace is a second Palace Below, a network of interconnected cellars in which her father keeps her half-brother Asterion. Every month a youth or maiden from Athens is sacrificed to Asterion, who is popularly regarded as a cannibalistic monster. Ari secretly forms a close bond with her half-brother and visits him in his prison, but her loyalty is tested to the limit when a handsome prince of Athens arrives and wants her help to defeat the monster and free his people.
Sexual Themes: Sex with a ... oh come on! Yes, this is the Minotaur Story! And there's some incest thrown in too. And some non-consensual M/M.
Notes:
The "red thread" refers to the ball of thread Ariadne gives Theseus to guide him through the labyrinth. It is the special thread used to weave the royal pattern into palace clothes, so it also denotes Ariadne's blood relationship to Asterion, and the thread of divinity (or insane conceit) in the royal family.
Okay, so after I recovered from the hoo-hah over Bull Peter in Wildwood, I decided it had to be my mission to write a minotaur story for Black Lace. My little minotaur kink grew under stress! So after this collection had been approved on a partial, I wrote to the Editor at Black Lace to ask special permission:
I think I've got a strong angle on the myth as a Greek Tragedy which does NOT involve emphasising in print any bestiality implications. The "monster" will be capable of articulate human speech. I will not mention animal heads, horns, fur, etc. In fact I'll only use the word "minotaur" once. The taboo aspects will be left up to the reader to work out.
What do you
think?
He wrote back:
- Go for it. I know it’ll be brilliant, but don’t give me Bull Peter fear.
Bless his cotton socks. I think this may be one of the best stories I've written. It's dark, it's extremely dirty, and though it can't be said to be upbeat it is emotionally engaging. I don't suppose anyone can read it without knowing who Asterion is from the context, or without knowing how badly it's all going to end. The abandonment of Ariadne on the island of Naxos is straight from the myth - Theseus really was a cold-hearted bastard. The only bit I left out from the original was his preference for her younger sister Phaedra, which I thought would just complicate the action too much.
Ariadne's horribly naive and self-centered, but it's the Minotaur I feel most sorry for. His monstrous physical appearance adds a layer of horror and taboo to any reading of the story but it wouldn't actually have been written any different if I'd decided to make him merely a deformed/maladjusted human.
His given name really was Asterion (meaning "ruler of the stars") but it's rarely used - except, famously, by Jorge Luis Borges in his short story The House of Asterion.
Because of the Greek mythological setting I used phallus throughout instead of cock. And I got to use eros too!
JanissariesI am the pet of the Imperial Elite.
They call me Kitten. It’s not my name. They are not interested in my name. To
them I am not a woman, not even a slave: I am
an object to
be used for their amusement. I am a mouth, a cunt, an anus, a pair of
wide eyes streaming with tears. I am a gaping receptacle for their
semen. Nothing more.Plot: Fantasy setting. An elite corps of 6 men guard the Empress. Kitten is the lone body-slave to those men, forced to attend to their sexual appetites, individually and collectively. The story simply follows the tribulations she goes through on one night neither worse nor better than any other.
Sexual Themes: One woman, 6 men: gangbang. Hardcore female degradation. Anal. Use of ginger as an irritant.
Notes:
I rather thought Black Lace might draw the line at this one, but no ...
I am really, really proud of this story and it is the one I re-read most often out of all that I've written. It was inspired by the smart and scary erotica author Kristina Lloyd, who wrote on the Lust Bites blog about her love of sexual degradation and how this in no way conflicts with her feminism.
It is all but impossible to outline the plot or excerpt any part of this story without making it look completely misogynistic. Which it isn't - but you're just going to have to trust me on that one, or go read the story for yourself. Kitten is quite possibly the single most frightening character I've ever written.
The setting is roughly based on the Byzantine Empire (which was in fact at a couple of points ruled by a woman) but writ much larger.
The name of the Empress, Zoe Eiparthanos, means "Zoe Ever-Virgin." I had to trawl around a number of Catholic websites in order to find the Greek for that, something which I do not recommend to the sensitive. By the time I'd finished I felt morally, intellectually and spiritually dirtied, and in dire need of a scrub-down with carbolic soap and then some good healthy porn. (I mean, seriously - descriptions of the angels falling down in everlasting awe and tearful delight at the sight of Mary's gloriously radiant maidenhead? WTF?!! Do you guys even know what a hymen is?)
Darkling
I Listen'Do you like this?' he whispered, his lips close to her ear. The question was too ingenuous; it did not do justice to the riot of sensation his fingers were evoking,
so she only murmured agreement.
In response his fingers slipped around to the front of her throat and
stroked her down to her collarbones and up to her chin, which she
raised for him. Her pulse was beating harder, faster, and she knew he
could feel it. 'Yes. You like it,' he said, and 'Yes,' she replied.'Your skin is so warm.' His voice was low. 'Life burns under it, like sunlight.' His fingers descended to her breastbone and at his touch there she spasmed with shock, unable to help herself, and he cupped his other hand about the swell of her shoulder to still her. Then gently he drew the cloth from her grasp and let it drop, baring her breasts
Plot: Fantasy. A young woman is telling her life-story to a ghoul as they sit together in a graveyard. She recounts how as as girl she had to flee from the living inhabitants of the city and take refuge among the dead when her father was killed by a mob. She was rescued by a robed figure who stopped the ghouls eating her and has been watching over her in the years since. When she reached adulthood he revealed the chilling truth about who she really is and offered her the option of becoming his lover...
Sexual Themes: Straight.
Notes:
Darkling I listen; and, for many a time
I have been half in love with easeful Death
(Keats: 'Ode to a Nightingale')
This one's a gentle romance. Maybe. Love is blind...
I originally wanted "Darkling I Listen" to be the name of the whole collection, but Black Lace needed there to be a thematic connection with my previous collection of short stories. Which does makes sense.
Structurally the story-within-a-story was an interesting challenge to write. I had to hit a balance between a believable oral narrative style and my own written one.
A close reading ("the seven hundred and seventy-steps below the mansions of her dreams") will reveal that this story takes place in H P Lovecraft's Dreamlands setting (copyright free), but pretty much all the other detail is my own. The name of the God of the Ghouls is Mordiggian (according to Clark Ashton Smith). I do love ghouls! They are one of my favourite fictional monsters, probably because they combine my morbid interests with the blithe innocence of canines.
This is actually by a long way the oldest story in the book. First, because it's been churning round in my head since I was, say, eighteen - can't you just taste the whole death/goth/teenage vibe? And the version you read in Dark Enchantment is I think exactly as I first conceived it.
Secondly, because I made an attempt at writing some of it down decades ago (in fact I wrote most of it on the day that Princess Diana died, not that I knew anything about that because I was locked in the spare room all day typing). And this is a classic illustration of Olivia Knight's precept that "erotica is the story with the sex left in." Because this first draft was done long before I discovered erotic fiction, I wrote it as a Dark Fantasy piece and left the sex out - because, after all (I thought), whoever wrote or read about the sort of torrid fantasy in my head? Hah! So the first version of Darkling I Listen sat around for years failing to be published, until eventually I had this anthology to work on and I put the sex back in where it belonged.
It's perfectly possible to read this story as a tender, sweet romance. Girl gets rescued. Girl falls in love with rescuer. Rescuer falls in love with girl. *smooch* Happy Ever After.
Except ...
Except that there are darker undercurrents. Some very nasty events have gone into setting up their meeting. It's not going to be HEA, is it? He's immortal/inhuman and she isn't: at some point she's going to grow up and then what will happen? Does he really love her? Is it all an illusion? Could they really be said to have a relationship given their infinite differences, even an unequal older man/ young girl one? In fact, let's get back to that point about him not being human: he's DEATH. What is it that the ghoul sees in him that's so horrible it scares even a corpse-eating monster?
Just wondering.