Ghoulish Reads for Halloween!

Hello, my lovelies! For your Halloween pleasure, I thought I'd compile a list of ghoulish work that might hit the spot.

First, here's mine:


The House of Erotica Witching Hour includes my story, "If I Ask," a ghost story set in the Cemetery of Montmartre.


Coming Together: Hungry For Love includes my story "Screen Siren," a zombie romance between a B-movie director and his undead leading lady.


My novel Run For Your Love is the story of a pacifist in the zombie apocalypse and the woman who tests his principles.

And some from my friends:

If you can't get enough of zombies (and they certainly can't get enough of you), check out the Zombie Erotoclypse by Tamsin Flowers.


I didn't forget the vampires. Coming Together: In Vein is a smart, sexy erotic anthology edited by Lisabet Sarai.


Giselle Renarde brings the spooky lesbian hotness with Girls Gone Carnal: Lesbian Vamps, Witches, and Weres.


If you catch this in time, Go Deeper Press has a special Halloween offer—a free copy of Femme Fatale: Erotic Tales of Dangerous Women. If you don't catch it in time, this collection is still well worth buying.

Enjoy, and have a happy Halloween!

Dirty Little Read-through: The Forbidden Wonders of "Oops!" by T.J. Caliber

Here's the fourth story from Dirty Little Numbers, as the Dirty Little Read-through continues.

"...nipples so perfect and pert you just want to give them a kiss and say thank you" -- T.J. Caliber

The language of T.J. Caliber's "Oops!" is so urgent and original that I want to give it a kiss and say thank you. There are so many lines I could have quoted, vivid images of lust and longing.

This story reminded me how wonderful the forbidden can be, and how necessary. It's about looking on Craigslist, finding, wanting, and going after what is found. It's a wild ride, and a brave one, and my heart pounded even though it was short.

I have looked on Craigslist this way, but always chickened out. I remember feeling stifled in my marriage, wanting things that I could barely name, and pointing my browser to Craigslist only to feel overwhelmed by the cornucopia of possibilities. I have never admitted this to anyone before, but I remember what it was like to read through the ads—the wonder I felt, which Caliber captures perfectly, at all these "people who want to fuck right now." I got so aroused by the idea that they might be real—the woman who sounded as if she would allow someone like me to come over just for a few hours, the man who promised he knew how to give a good spanking. These possibly real people affected me so much more than the fantasies I'd been having. I felt a mere breath away from them, and so I closed my browser and fled.

In a post today at Go Deeper Press, Angela wrote, "For me, revealing our darkness is what makes erotica transformative and titillating." She's right, and that darkness is a hell of a scary thrill. I was too afraid to play with strangers years ago, when I hunched over forbidden words on my laptop and struggled to breathe, but Caliber brought the feeling back to me so vividly, along with the exhilarating question, "What if?"

If you'd like to read the story instead of my philosophizing about it, check out the fantastic Go Deeper Press—Dirty Little Numbers and other sex-positive erotic books are on sale there.

Dirty Little Read-Through: The Unapologetic Confession of "Here's My Problem, Dr. Kinsey" by Mia Hopkins

The Dirty Little Read-through goes on—the third story in Dirty Little Numbers comes to us from Mia Hopkins.

"Jim muttered something about eternal damnation, but he did it anyway." — Mia Hopkins

What I like most about this fictional confession is that it's not a confession in the sense of regret. Throughout, the narrator sounds like she knows what she wants and she's not ashamed of anything. Glancing up to the title after reading the story, I get an image of her smirking as she says those words. Maybe the memory of hot sex that she describes in this story has created some problems for her, but I don't think she'd trade it.

I like the idea of a knowing woman who's not out to apologize confessing a dirty secret to Dr. Kinsey who, by the accounts I've read, wasn't out to judge. That's a delightful reversal of the idea of confession.

I go to confession once a year on Good Friday, and I only confess the things I'm truly sorry for. That means I don't often talk about sex, and I also don't stay in the confessional very long. That's not to say that I'm perfect, but I've spent too much of my life apologizing for who I am and everything I do, feel, and think. These days, I try to keep my apologizing to a minimum, and to only do it when it's really necessary.

But church isn't the only place I feel expected to confess. When I got divorced several years ago, I encountered a lot of people who wanted me to analyze for them how my marriage had gone wrong, or why I wasn't willing to work on things any more. It's one thing to learn from mistakes, and another to enact a shame performance, and too many times conversations veered to that latter side of the line.

Erotica has a long tradition of another kind of confession—a sly, sometimes funny revelation of forbidden acts. Books of erotic confessions are sold not to warn people off but to titillate them, and I think this is a needed corrective for the other kind of confession, the one that's all about shame. Hopkins' story is a classic entry in this venerable tradition. The narrator does outrageous things with an ear of corn, cops to a problem that it sounds sort of nice to have, and doesn't say she's sorry for any of it. More power to her!

If you'd like to read the story instead of my philosophizing about it, check out the fantastic Go Deeper Press—Dirty Little Numbers and other sex-positive erotic books are on sale there.

Dirty Little Read-through: "Third-Party Extension" by Jacob Louder

I continue my Dirty Little Read-through with the second story in Dirty Little Numbers, "Third-Party Extension" by Jacob Louder.

“Go on, Scotty,” Erin says. “He’s your present.” -- Jacob Louder

On the surface, this is a hot-as-hell stroke story. Its few hundred words are wall-to-wall sex, and I very nearly chose to quote its opening line up top ("Two cocks in our bedroom and my wife is ecstatic."). Even though I cheated and quoted it just now, I wanted to put that other line first because it's the moment the story took off for me.

In just a few sentences, Louder has established that the wife is ecstatic, but the other cock in the bedroom is a present for the husband, and now we're at the heart of the sex-positivity behind this scorcher.

There are certain fantasies that seem to be both incredibly common and commonly problematic. At the top of my list of examples are threesomes and anal sex (we'll get back to that one). All too commonly, threesomes are portrayed as one person's fantasy. Go to Google and type "how can I convince my girlfriend." The first thing that pops up for me is "to have a 3 way." This leads to a collection of links that I find... problematic. And that's far from the only emotional minefield that threesomes can fall into.

So, hot as threesomes make me (common fantasy, like I said), I'm always a little on edge when I read about them, watching for that tinge of imbalance or uncertainty, that piece of evidence that one or more people are not getting what they need or want out of the experience.

Thankfully, there's none of that here. Louder sells me on how utterly desired this threesome is by all parties. The wife's excitement shines through, as does the husband's aching desire. Even the hired third party gets "the face of a man half his age" at one point (and I love that line also for telling me that the third is sexy as hell and also a bit older). From word one, it's clear that everyone involved is enjoying the hell out of the experience (and enthusiastically consenting to it). All three people are connected and finding pleasure in each other. The wife praises the husband as he sucks the third's cock. The husband fucks his wife and focuses on the feeling of the other man inside her. The third shouts his excitement as he releases cum for the others to play with.

The whole thing glistens with lust, dirty thrills, and genuine, accepting love. That's how to do a threesome, I say.

If you'd like to read the story instead of my philosophizing about it, check out the fantastic Go Deeper Press—Dirty Little Numbers and other sex-positive erotic books are on sale there.

Best Erotic Romance 2014

Just got word from editor Kristina Wright that my story, "Professional, Knowledgeable and Very Thorough" will be included in Best Erotic Romance 2014! I'm totally thrilled—this is a great series, and I'm so pleased to participate in it.

My story is about an auto mechanic and a hot man who questions her about a timing belt—far more respectfully than she's used to being questioned. Here's a snip:

Randal Dean might not be the kind of sexist jerk she’d been expecting, but he was a piece of work in his own right. “With all due respect, Randal, it took me a long time to learn how a car works. I want to answer your questions and make sure you feel comfortable about how you’re spending your money with us, but at a certain point, you do have to trust my professional opinion. I’ve got a lot of other cars to fix. I can’t give you a long lesson right now.” She sighed, summoning a phrase from her customer service training. “What can I do to help resolve this issue?”

“Can I come back later?” he asked, and something about his tone heated Tamara’s cheeks. “When you’re less busy and you can spend a little time?”

She bit the inside of her cheek. Her day was booked solid, and this wouldn’t be quick. To accommodate his request, she’d definitely have to stay late. Still, something inside her hesitated to tell him no.

“Five o’clock,” she said. “Lucy will be closing up. The car will be ready by then, and I’ll walk you through everything I did, show you the parts I replaced, the works. We can just hang out in the garage until you’re satisfied.” She stumbled over the last word of her sentence. It conjured an image of a different sort of satisfaction, sweaty and messy and delicious. Tamara envisioned straddling Randal and running a grease-stained finger across his smooth, high cheekbone, leaving a smear behind. She wondered what it would be like to get him dirty.

Hot times ensue, as I'm sure they do in the other stories in this collection. In case you haven't yet found the preorder button, here's the table of contents, which includes many lovely writers whose work I adore:

Foreword by Lauren Dane
Introduction: A Perfect Combination
The Shortest Day by Nikki Magennis
A Competitive Marriage by Victoria Blisse
Professional, Knowledgeable and Very Thorough by Annabeth Leong
Rules by Emerald
More Light by Laila Blake
Stay with Me by Crystal Jordan
A Singer who Doesn’t Sing by Jeanette Grey
Show Me by D.R. Slaten
A Perfect Place by Catherine Paulssen
Something New by Giselle Renarde
Over a Barrel by Tamsin Flowers
Tuscarora by Anja Vikarma
Big Bully by A.M. Hartnett
Going it Alone by Lucy Felthouse
Closing the Deal by Kelly Maher
Whatever it Takes by Kristina Wright

The book is available for pre-order here, and should be out early next year. :)

Dirty Little Read-through: The Sexy Eyelashes of "Under Captain Jack" by Kristina Lloyd

I don't want to stop talking about Dirty Little Numbers yet. So here is my plan: a dirty little read-through, one very short story at a time. If you want to join me, you are certainly welcome. I begin with the first story in the collection, Kristina Lloyd's "Under Captain Jack."

"He reached for my eyes with both hands and, carefully, gently, peeled away the lashes. The tackiness tugged on my lids, and the intimacy of his action left me softly shocked." - Kristina Lloyd

What I love about this is that it is an incredibly intimate action being described—and one that wouldn't occur to me if I were making a list of intimate actions. In general, we don't touch each other's faces in society unless something very intimate is going on—a lover stroking the soft hair at the temple, a mother wiping her child's mouth, etc.

I have often bewailed the way that many sex scenes are written as if a woman consists of nothing more than lips, nipples, and clit. This could, of course, be done well, but it is frequently done with formulaic detachment, leading me to scan entire pages of writing that I think were supposed to make me melt and squirm.

My favorite thing about Nicole Holofcener's excellent movie Enough Said was its off-kilter sexiness. At one point, the main female character talks about how there's something sexy to her about the warts-hanging-out middle-agedness of her relationship. There's a fantastic scene of the two main characters in bed together studying each other's teeth, which gave me the same shock of intimacy that appears in Lloyd's story.

These days, I am so hungry for the sexiness of the inner elbow, the back of the knee, the point of the chin. Thank you to Kristina Lloyd for these eyelashes. I needed them.

Dirty Little (Sex-Positive) Numbers

"We’ve been taught for so long that writing stories to arouse a reader—or reading stories to get ourselves turned on—is “tasteless” and “immoral.” So, stories that get to the erotic friction faster, or portray hot moments in less than 500 words, are surely the heart of sex-positive art and the politics that go with it." - Lana Fox and Angela Tavares


Just yesterday, I was talking with a friend about the periodic waves of corporate censorship that erotica writers face. My friend commented that comedians facing censorship have the magic word "satire" on their side—-and wondered if erotica writers have any similar get-out-of-jail-free card.

I said we actually have a disadvantage a lot of times. Porn is often used as a foil for art. There may be sex in a story, some writers say, but it's not for titillation. It's literary, better than that.

I have often wondered what's so wrong about making art that is for titillation, or why it seems to be a common belief that sexually explicit art is only okay if it's not titillating. This of course falls down if you read something like Anais Nin's Delta of Venus and Little Birds—-collections of stories that Nin wrote to arouse a paying customer (famously being paid per page for the porn she produced), and discover how arousing and literary they are.

But we don't need to turn to Nin. There are plenty of erotica writers who are unashamedly out to arouse, and are also producing vital, necessary literature. I may be turning up the vibrator in the moment, but I've got something to think about, too. See, for example, my review of Alison Tyler's Dark Secret Love.

I want to make a stronger statement, though. How about the times when I'm just so turned on by the words on the page or screen that I can't help myself? The times when I don't even care about literary merit, I just have to come? I'll never forget the raging arousal I felt after reading Giselle Renarde's Wedding Heat: Two in the Bush. Jaded me, who these days often finds descriptions of explicit sex repetitive, had to close my laptop and run to the bedroom to bring myself off as quickly as possible, noisily, desperately, as if I'd just discovered masturbation. There is art in that, pure art. Not every sex scene does that to me. There is art in finding and portraying the real heat of a moment.

I agree with Lana and Angela that honoring that art is a sex-positive and profoundly radical act. Their quote above is from the introduction to Dirty Little Numbers, the newest release from the fantastic Go Deeper Press. I've got a story in it, and I couldn't be happier to be part of this.

Writing or reading a very short erotic story might be a small act, but it's a profound one. I don't want to ever forget the thrill and fear I felt the first time I found such a story, magnified the first time I wrote one. On each and every occasion, I was (and still am) claiming another part of my sexuality for my own.

That's so important, and you'd damn well better believe that it's art.