This is the WIP Wednesday deal. Authors needed - all genres! Are you an author who'd like to share a 100- to 200-word blurb about a current work in progress on a future WIP Wednesday? If so, please send an e-mail to Erin O'Riordan (erinoriordan AT sbcglobal DOT net).
Postponed: I am not going to be able to finish the story I intended for the Having My Baby anthology (you can read an excerpt HERE). I thought I had a workable draft, but what I actually had was a hot mess. That one's abandoned, at least for now.
In Editing: "Going Native," a short story I wrote in which an anthropologist (a woman) visiting Vis, Croatia, picks up a street hustler, is in the editing stages.
“Your pussy’s so beautiful. It’s the prettiest
color of pink.” He leaned forward and licked up a bead of juice he saw emerge
from her lips. Trina lay back, pulling up her skirt and spreading her legs wide
for Mike to get the full view and easy access. She pulled her top off and
started to rub her nipples as Mike suckled her clit. Rubbing his tongue as deep
inside her as he could, he pulled her juices into his mouth, drinking her love.
Started: I'm trying to write up the experience of the very last night evah in my local GLBTQ bar before it closed down - possibly for a SexIs article. I'm trying to capture the feel. This is how I started a very early draft:
10:04 a.m., Saturday, June 16, 2012. I’d rather be at home
doing my usual freelance editing, but as a ridadie chick, I’ve solemnly sworn
to accompany hubby to his remodeling job and fire-tape a garage ceiling. It’s
early, the temperature is already in the ‘80s, and I feel like a complete slob
in hubby’s paint-covered work shorts and a shredded-to-hell old St. Patrick’s
Day tank top. As we pass the complex that was once the town brewery, I read the
marquis…
We knew this day was coming, but until then, we hadn’t been
sure exactly when or how it would end: The Truman’s Entertainment Complex (TEC),
the linked GLBTQ bar/dance club/GLBTQ sports bar and only major not-straight
drinking establishment within a 50-mile radius, is closing forever after 21
years in business. We’ve only lived in this small city for 12 of those years,
and we’re not regulars, but the bar’s in our neighborhood. In the summers, we’d
made it part of our occasional rounds enough that we knew the owner and the
regular drag queens. Tonight is its very
last night.
----
Ongoing: I'm still working with Ken Charles on the project tentatively titled Billy's Color Palette, an interracial erotica collection with lots of spanking and discipline. Yum.
Might Be Something: I mentioned that one of my faves in Suite Encounters: Hotel Sex Stories was "Night School" by Valerie Alexander. In her story about a male escort (Dalton) and a female hotel desk clerk, Alexander wrote, "I wondered who Dalton was seeing tonight and what they would do. I knew most of his clients were men, though he saw couples and the occasional woman, too."
I really liked the idea of a male escort seeing a couple. Without any particular market in mind, I jotted down a few ideas:
The woman who
leaned out of the window of the town car looked around forty, very attractive
and caramel blonde. Judging by her giggle, she was intoxicated as well. She
waved him over to the window, and Ed felt relief. He hoped she wanted him. He
would have done anything to get out of the hot, humid wind. If he had his way,
he’d have liked to get out of his clothes.
He approached the
car. “You lost or something, sweetheart?”
She shook her
head. “I thought maybe you’d like to take a ride with us.”
“Us” meant the
caramel blonde and the man seated next to her. He was about fifty and
impeccably dressed in a dark gray suit. Ed flashed them his best smile.
“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”
She opened the
door, and Ed sat across from them in the rear-facing seat. The couple was
married, judging by their matching platinum rings. Hers was topped by an
engagement band with a diamond the size of a horse’s eye. Ed turned around and
looked at the driver through the lightly tinted divider. “Can he hear us?”
The man shook his
head. “Stanley is very well-paid not to hear a thing.” He looked serious.
Ed leaned back and
made himself comfortable while the blonde poured them each a flute of
champagne. As bubbly as she acted, it seemed as if she’d already had half a
bottle. “What can I do for you folks tonight?”
“Keep us company
for the night?” The blonde asked rather than told. She handed him the wine.
With his free hand, Ed reached down and took hold of her ankle, lifting it into
his lap and removing the blonde’s shoe. He placed his bare foot in her lap and
stroked it. The blonde giggled some more and felt up Ed’s soft dick through his
jeans with her toes.
What are you writing this WIP Wednesday?
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