Reaching Out from a Mind as Dirty as All Outdoors

If you get lucky enough, I might post adult-only material from time to time, so be 18 or over, or please be elsewhere.

I'll be discussing erotica here, the writing of it and the people who write it, as well as what we've written. I find all these aspects stimulating, but if any of them bore you, feel free to skim. You never know what you might miss, though.




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Saturday, December 17, 2016

Double Feature-A Free Christmas Story, and a Fairy Tale Anthology Coming Soon

Where the heck have I been the last several months? Well, much back-and-forth travel for family eldercare, coping with a well running dry, and…and…and maybe some writing and editing got done in there, too.

I’ll pile on two different posts here, and we can pretend that I didn’t go three and a half months without any, okay?

First, because it’s shortest, I’ll announce that my anthology Witches, Princesses, and Women at Arms: Erotic Lesbian Fairy Tales (formerly known as The Princess’s Bride) will be coming out around May 6th. It’s been a long wait, what with the disruptions of the publisher changing hands, etc., but the book is definitely worth that wait. These stories have enough sex to be called erotic, but they’re all about far more than sex, and more than fairy tale traditions, too. In my opinion each could work in fantasy anthologies or magazines that aren’t erotica-themed at all.



contents
vii Introduction
1 Steel • Cara Patterson

21 Robber Girl • Madeleine Shade

36 The Princess’s Princess • Salome Wilde

52 Woodwitch • M. Birds

72 The Prize of the Willow • H. N. Janzen

84 Toads, Diamonds and the Occasional Pearl • Emily L. Byrne

99 SWF Seeks FGM • Allison Wonderland
111 The Mark and the Caul • Annabeth Leong
130 Penthouse 31 • Brey Willows

146 The Miller’s Daughter • Michael M. Jones
160 Warrior’s Choice • A. D. R. Forte
170 Trollwise • Sacchi Green

187 The Sorceress of Solisterre • Lea Daley



For my second post. I’m offering a free Christmas/Holiday story, published several years ago in Best Lesbian Romance. This one means a lot to me because it was inspired by some people I know. It’s been on my mind lately since the setting is very much like the beginning setting of a story I’m working on right now, originally supposed to be a novella but being expanded on request to novel length. Maybe. No guarantees. More about that later. For now, here, for your enjoyment, is:


                                                          The Gift
                                                       Sacchi Green

The desert under the full moon lay still and serene, as though the storms of war and of nature had never swept across it. With a bit of squinting and a dose of wishful thinking, Lou could almost fancy that the pale expanse of sand was a snowfield. But the distant hills to the north and the ice-glazed mountains of the Hindu Kush far beyond weren’t the Swiss Alps, and only imagination spurred by loneliness could show Meg, in her trim ski kit, tracing elegant curves across the slopes and throwing up plumes of new powder as she raced by. Or sinking into a hot tub at the end of an exhilarating day, skin flushed by more than the rising steam.
   
Sand or snow. Made no difference. What mattered was that it was Christmas, and Lou was four time zones away from Meg. No, wait, Switzerland wasn’t as far from Afghanistan as their home in England. Three time zones. Or three-and-a-half—and how had that half-hour bit got stuck in, anyway? Never mind. She tilted her bottle and drank the next-to-last draught of water. Almost midnight here, just mid-evening in the Alps. Meg would be at dinner with friends, or already partying in one chalet or another. That was as it should be, no matter how much Lou longed to be with her. They’d planned the ski holiday long before Lou’s orders had come through, and it was better for Meg to go than to sit alone at home. Except that home was where Lou needed most to envision her. To envision them both, together.

Bugger envisioning! Lou needed to see Meg right now, tonight, if only for a moment. Touching her, hearing her, feeling the brush of her soft hair, the warmth of her breath, the accelerating rhythm of her heart—all these were impossible, and Lou had chosen to accept that, knowing how hard it would be, even knowing how much she was hurting Meg. Seeing her was just as impossible, Lou knew that, and the sooner she forgot about what the old Afghani grandmother had said this morning, the better. Mind games, even if the woman hadn’t meant it that way.

Even so, Lou slid a hand into the pocket of her camo jacket. The flat brass box was warm to the touch from her own body heat. The gift had been a generous gesture on the old woman’s part, too generous, really, when all Lou had done was to bring food from the mess tent to the family group huddled outside the hospital complex.

They’d been there for hours, waiting while the doctors worked on two small children with serious injuries. Bringing them food and water had been the least she could do. She had to confess to some slight curiosity as well; sick or injured children were brought in all too often, but this was the first time a woman had accompanied the men. It was she who had tended the children, and the bearded men had shown her something approaching deference.

The curiosity had been mutual, Lou was sure; the fierce old eyes peering out from the enveloping burka had seemed to follow her intently, until, as Lou collected the emptied cups and bowls, rough, wrinkled fingers had pressed the box into her hand. Would refusing a gift be taken as an insult? The woman spoke a few words, her face crinkling into what might have been a smile, and then a nurse came out to lead the family into the post-op tent.

A local civilian maintenance worker had been watching the whole encounter. Lou asked what the woman had said, and after some hesitation he’d translated the words as meaning something along the lines of, “Catch the moon in the box and see your heart’s desire.” He’d started to add something about how foolish women’s tales were, stammered as he remembered that Lou was a woman as well as a soldier, and escaped back to his work with relief.

It was foolishness, of course. A good story to tell Meg tomorrow in e-mail, but nothing worth dwelling on now. Tonight she’d just have to make do with some more serious envisioning of Meg, and that might be better done in her warm cot, except that tents provided very little in the way of privacy.
   
Lou raised her water bottle in a toast. “Cheers, sweetheart! Merry Christmas! Have a great time!” She drained the last few trickles of liquid. “Here’s hoping yours is a gin and tonic!” Wherever Meg was, she’d be thinking of Lou tonight. And she’d have a g&t in hand. Maybe she was even gazing toward the moon at this very moment, though it might be too low in the sky just now to clear the Alpine peaks.
 
In Afghanistan the moon soared high overhead, revealing every object, including Lou, with relentless clarity. She shifted uneasily. This perch on sandbags heaped in an angle of the perimeter wall gave her a better view of the desert than was strictly safe, although “safe” was a relative term at best in a world where even a transport lorry full of frozen turkeys for the soldiers’ Christmas dinner had been blown up by insurgents. The holiday had still been jolly enough, with more turkeys rushed in by plane, plenty of sweets and packages from home, and a great deal of singing and chaffing and merrymaking that got as near to boisterous as the lads could manage without proper drinks.

Lou had joined in with her customary high spirits, but the time came when she needed to get away from the noise and forced cheer. If she couldn’t be with Meg, at least she could be alone to think about being with Meg. Now a glance back at the main camp showed row upon row of tents glowing golden with interior light, like a scene from some fantastic Arabian Nights tale.

She turned back to the cold white moonlight and her own thoughts, which reverted, in spite of herself, to the little box. She’d opened it once already, of course, and found a round mirror set inside the lid. When her own face stared back at her, with a bit of her camo shirt showing at her throat, she’d figured, well, close enough. Being here, in uniform, doing her part, was truly her heart’s desire, surpassed only by Meg’s love.  The miracle was that Meg, for all her pain at the separation, for all her horror of war—Meg, who was never violent except in her attack on a challenging ski slope or in defense of those she loved—would still let Lou have both.
 
The box in Lou’s hand still felt warm, but it was just too bloody silly to think that there was anything mystical about it. Still, Meg was bound to ask, if Lou told the story, whether she’d tried it by moonlight.  So as long as she was here…

Moonlight glinted on tiny mirror chips set into the metal between inlaid ovals of lapis lazuli, while the stones themselves, so vividly blue in the daytime, looked almost black. Merely a trifle, actually; its like could be found in any market in Lashkar Gah or Kandahar, or, for that matter, on many a flea market barrow on Portobello Road in London. Nothing special about it, except, perhaps, the borrowed glamour that moonlight seems to cast on ordinary objects.

Lou’s fingers still shook as she fumbled to undo the brass clasp. Just the cold night air, of course. Before lifting the lid all the way she shifted around on the sandbags until the moonlight came over her right shoulder. Then, with a catch in her breath and a touch of defiance, she opened the box all the way and tilted the round mirror to catch the moon directly in its center.

The white orb hung there, clear and sharp. Lou started to breathe again. Then a mist crept across the glass, and the moon’s image spread to fill the whole surface. Condensation, of course, from her own breath. She fumbled with one hand to find a handkerchief to clear it, gave up, and was about to try with the elbow of her jacket when the mist began to dissipate on its own until only a few drifting wisps remained. The light, much softer now, still filled the entire mirror.

A blurred scene began to form, or to emerge, as though it came closer; or as though Lou herself moved forward into it. The surroundings were vaguely familiar, but all she could focus on was the figure standing in the center, head bowed, smooth russet hair swinging forward against her cheeks. Lou knew the scent, the softness, of that hair, as well as she knew anything in life; and she knew the feel of the lovely body beneath, exposed entirely to her gaze, as well as she knew her own flesh.

“Meg…” If only she would raise her head! But the figure moved slowly, face still hidden, down a step or two. More tendrils of mist floated around her. “No…don’t go…” Meg kept on, sinking gradually downward into something denser than mist, water that lapped about her body until only her head, shoulders, and the upper curves of her breasts showed above it. “Meg…”

And then Meg leaned her head back against the edge of the hot tub and sighed. Lou could hear that sigh inside her own head. And now she could see Meg’s face, that particular blend of eyes and nose and lovely lips, of gentleness and strength and elegance, that for Lou would forever define beauty. And love. And home.

There was sadness in Meg’s expression, and dampness on her cheeks that might have been due to the hot, humid air, or might have included a tear or two. She lifted her head, raised an arm from the water, and reached out to a tray beside the tub. Lou hadn’t noticed it before, but now she saw the glass, and knew beyond question what it contained.

Meg held up the drink. “Cheers, Lou darling! Merry Christmas!” She took a healthy draught of her gin and tonic. Then, more softly; “Keep safe. Please.” She drank again, uncharacteristically deeply, and added, “I’m truly proud of you, right where you are. But…oh, I miss you so much!” She emptied the glass, closed her eyes, and leaned back, sliding a little lower into the water.

Lou needed to reach out, to brush the tears from Meg’s face, even more than she needed to breathe. She felt torn into two separate beings. One clutched a brass box in the cold Afghan desert; one floated through the steam rising from the hot tub and sank into the water so close to Meg that their legs intertwined. As heat rose from her feet all along her body, the colder world retreated, until it was just the faintest of memories.

Lou couldn’t make her voice work, but her fingertips could feel the curve of Meg’s cheek, and throat, and shoulder. Meg sighed. Her face relaxed, and her lips curved into a smile. “I can almost feel you here with me,” she murmured, eyes still closed. “Are you thinking of me now, sweetheart?”

“Thinking” didn’t come close to describing it, for either of them. Meg seemed not to find it strange that her arms could go around Lou, and Lou’s around her. They clung to each other, moving gently together in the slow swirl of the water, bathed in a warm current of love and joy. No dream could ever be sweeter, Lou felt—until Meg opened her eyes and looked directly into Lou’s. “I can even see you, darling!” Meg’s voice held more delight than surprise. ”How lovely!”

That was the sweetest moment of all. And even when Lou felt the pull of that half of herself left behind in the desert, and knew that she was drifting away, not from Meg, but merely from that particular time and place, she held the image of Meg’s loving smile in her heart.

The night was dark again. Lou still held the box, but the moon was so low in the sky that only a sliver of it still showed in the mirror. Tilting the lid brought the bright disc back into its center, but accomplished nothing further. Lou drew a deep breath, rose slowly from the sandbags, and started back across the compound toward the clustered tents. In spite of the cold air, warmth still suffused her body, lingering until her bed could capture and preserve it.

She was too tired, and too much at peace, to try to analyze what had happened, except for a fleeting thought about what she should tell Meg. Or, perhaps, what she should ask. Just a humorous tale about the old Afghan woman, and a joke about an “envisioning aid”, and a light account of her “dream” might be the best course.

It was mid-morning before Lou had time to write even a brief e-mail, and by then Meg had beat her to it. Dearest Lou, Meg wrote. The strangest thing happened last night! It was like the most marvelous Christmas gift! I was in the hot tub in the chalet, thinking of you, and…well, maybe it was just that drinking a g&t in all that heat made me lightheaded—I should know better—but I can’t believe it. I don’t want to believe it. Please don’t laugh; just tell me where you were last night, and whether you were thinking of me.

Lou felt warm all over again, and a bit lightheaded herself. You tell me yours and then I’ll tell you mine, she typed. It’s long story, and I only have a minute now, but if there’s any laughing to be done, we’ll do it together. Always.

   



     

   



           

 

         

   


 

Thursday, September 1, 2016

Reading in New York at Bluestockings

Oh look, it's September! I'd better tell you about a reading coming up. My latest anthology, Me and My Boi (about butch and masculine-of-center lesbians), came out on June 14th, and we'll be doing a reading in NYC on September 17th, 7 pm, at Bluestockings Books, 172 Allen Street. These readings are always great fun, and with contributors Dena Hankins, Annabeth Leong, Anna Watson, Aimee Herman, and Gigi Frost, (plus me) we'll be rocking the roof. (I also have readings coming up in October at Women's Week in Provincetown, but I'll try to remember to post those later.)

Thursday, August 11, 2016

I'm Up on AfterEllen!

Hey, I just discovered, accidentally, that an interview with me was posted on AfterEllen yesterday! I mean, I knew I'd been interviewed, but had no idea when it would appear. I talk about writing erotica in general, the importance of LGBTQ+ erotica, what I look for in submissions to my anthologies, and how I've seen lesbian erotica change (and not change) over several decades. Go on over and check it out! (I happened to notice an unusual number of hits on my blog, and looked to see where they were coming from, so that's how I found out that the interview had gone "live", for certain values of "live."

http://www.afterellen.com/books/498493-sacchi-green-knows-good-lesbian-sex-writing

For folks who come here from the link on AfterEllen--sorry I wasn't ready for you yesterday--here are links to a couple of my free stories posted on this blog over the years. There are are more, too, if you have the patience to scroll wayyyyy down, you'll find some.  There are also posts on writing and publishing, Yeah, I know, somebody who can organize a story and whole anthologies should be able to organize her blog better, but, well, maybe one of these days.

http://sacchi-green.blogspot.com/2011/04/bonus-lesbian-cop-story.html

http://sacchi-green.blogspot.com/2014/02/free-lesbian-ice-skating-erotica.html



Monday, July 25, 2016

A Goodreads Giveaway for Me and My Boi

Another chance to win a copy.

https://www.goodreads.com/giveaway/show/195966-me-and-my-boi-queer-erotic-stories

Go on over and sign up!

And if you're interested in a copy for honest reviewing purposes, get in touch with me here (check back for my response), or at sacchigreen.gmail.com, or by Private Message on Facebook. I have a few available.


Tuesday, July 12, 2016

Giveaway for Goldie Winner Through the Hourglass: Lesbian Historical Romance



Celebratory Giveaway for our Golden Crown Literary Society winner Through The Hourglass! Leave a comment here to be entered to win a copy of the ebook (in epub, mobi, or pdf) AND your choice of one of my other anthologies.  You can also enter for another chance over on my Facebook page: www.facebook.com/sacchi.green.

Liz McMullen is running a giveaway for this book, too, with her other winner included. Go check that out! The drawing ends on July 20th.



Thursday, June 30, 2016

Me and My Boi Blog Tour-Kathleen Tudor

This last stop on our Blog Tour will leave you wanting more, especially more of Kathleen Tudor’s story “Dancing Boi”.

Here’s what Kathleen says about herself:

KATHLEEN TUDOR hides out in the wilds of California with her spouse and their favorite monkey. Her wicked words have broken down the doors to presses like Cleis, Mischief HarperCollins, Xcite and more. If you see her, please contact polykathleen@gmail.com. Keep an eye on KathleenTudor.com for updates on her antics.

And here’s a simmering excerpt from “Dancing Boi”, which begins with a bachelorette party at a strip club, but gyrates into much more intense and personal territory:
__________

My amused smile froze on my face as the lights dimmed, the dancers filed toward the end of the stage, and a spotlight lit up a small space in the back. The woman who stepped out was exactly my type.
My mouth went dry and my hand closed on the cold drink. I instinctively took a huge slug, wincing as the tequila burned down my throat, leaving me drier than ever and a little dizzy.
The music started and she slunk onto the stage in a seductive dance, her hips twisting and swirling in lazy figure eights. My clit twinged and I shifted in my seat, wanting to whimper or moan. But that would have been a mistake, because except for the steady beat of the music, the room had fallen dead silent and all eyes were on her.
Like an angel, she drifted across the stage, her eyes sweet and coy while her body screamed sex. Her curves were nothing but woman, but there was something about her that nonethe- less whispered to me of something else. It was in the set of her jaw, maybe, or the secrets behind her eyes. In was in her short- trimmed, unvarnished nails and her closely shorn hair, not so unusual in a woman these days, but...together, those things all spoke to me.
My free hand rested in my lap, my nails digging into my palm as I tried to keep my face relaxed and my gaze noncha- lant. She started to peel away the layers of her costume, each one revealing tracts of creamy-smooth skin until—glory be!—she was completely bare but for a tiny thong, her body gyrating with the intensifying music. Men were on their feet near the front of the stage, bills waving in the air, and the lights came up as she stepped forward to accept their tribute. Other dancers filed onto the stage, already pared down to the panties and heels, and took up stations at the poles on either side of my dream boi’s center- stage act.
That was when Tara pulled out the wad of ones and dumped them on the table. “I’ve got a prize for you guys! Everyone who puts a dollar in one of those strippers’ thongs gets her name in the hat! Go on! Do it!” She shoved the money toward the center of the table, and a few giggling women snatched up their bills and headed for the stage, their dollars waving in the air like banners.
I felt rooted in place, but Tara hadn’t forgotten me, and she seemed determined to “help me out of my shell” as she’d put it earlier in the night. She pushed a small handful of ones into my hand and practically shoved me out of my chair. “Go!”
I stumbled to my feet and headed to the center stage without a conscious decision to do so, my feet carrying me toward the goddess whose worshippers had begun to disperse. She saw me coming and her eyes sparkled as she dropped to her hands and knees and crawled toward the edge of the stage nearest me.
“You’re not one of those chicks who comes here on a dare,” she said in a throaty murmur, eyes flicking to the hens and back to me.
I folded one dollar and stuffed it in her mouth, learning forward. “And I know what you are, too,” I ventured, my voice sounding bold and confident even as my thudding heart threatened to drown it out. She raised her eyebrows in challenge and I leaned toward her, our shoulders close enough to brush as I tucked the rest of the bills into the side of her thong. “You’re a naughty little boi all dressed up like a slut,” I whispered for her ears only.
I heard her sharp intake of breath, and as I pulled back, her mouth fell slightly open and the dollar fluttered to the stage. “Yes, Ma’am,” she said. I reached to ruffle her hair, my mind’s eye seeing how the pixie-like lengths would look gelled into masculine spikes, and backed away. She waited there, kneeling with her eyes downcast, until I’d returned to the table.
Tara was laughing and clapping as the rest of the hens and I returned to the roost. She’d been busy, and scraps of folded white paper littered the table. She scooped them up, mixed them, dumped them and plucked one from the top.
“Megan, you win!” she exclaimed, and from her oversized purse she pulled an oversized rubber cock and handed it straight to me.
Oh, for god’s sake!
I glanced past her, back toward the stage, but my naughty little boi in girl’s panties was gone. It was probably for the best.
__________

Want to read the rest? At the end of this list of links for the whole blog tour you’ll find information on entering for a chance to win a free copy of the book.

Me and My Boi Blog Tour Links

June 12—Sacchi Green— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 13—Annabeth Leong--http://annabethleong.blogspot.com/2016/06/me-and-my-boi-not-just-hair.html

June 14—Anna Watson— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 15—Sinclair Sexsmith-- www.sugarbutch.net

June 16—Jove Belle-- https://jovebelle.com/

June 17—Tamsin Flowers-- www.tamsinflowers.com

June 18—Victoria Villasenor— https://breywillows.com

June 19—J, Caladine—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 20—Victoria Janssen-- http://victoriajanssen.com

June 21—Dena Hankins--  http://denahankins.net/my-summer-of-boi/

June 22—D. Orchid—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 23—Pavini Moray-- https://emancipatingsexuality.com/

June 24—Melissa Mayhew—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 25—Jen Cross— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 26—Kyle Jones-- http://www.butchtastic.net/2016/06/blog-tour-for-me-and-my-boi/ 

June 27—Gigi Frost--https://www.facebook.com/notes/gigi-frost/book-give-away-and-blog-tour-me-and-my-boi/10155505162268084

June 28—Aimee Hermann— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 29—Sommer Marsden— http://sommermarsden.blogspot.com

June 30—Axa Lee—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

July 1— Kathleen Tudor— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

BOOK GIVEAWAY

Anyone who comments on any of the posts will be entered in a drawing for one free copy of the anthology. You can comment on more than one post and be entered more than once. The winner will be announced and notified by July 5, if not sooner.



Wednesday, June 29, 2016

Me and My Boi Blog Tour-Axa Lee


Axa Lee calls herself an erotica-writing Michigan farm girl who grazes cattle in her yard and herds incorrigible poultry with a cowardly dog. She’s written since her grandmother had to spell the words for her. Other work appears in Shameless Behavior and Dirty Little Numbers, published by Go Deeper Press.

If anyone can work fence posts into erotica, it’s a Michigan farm girl. This excerpt from Axa Lee’s “Welder Boi” does the trick:
__________


With a sharp nod of her head, she tipped the welding helmet over her eyes and sparked her rod.
I love watching her weld. She ties that bandana around her cropped blonde hair, tips that helmet down with a sharp motion of her chin, her spark ignites, and she’s nothing but liquid flame. She’s an artist, a true creative. Though she laughs when I tell her this and says she’s only welding fence posts.
Sweat drips down her back beneath the leather protective gear, her arms are veined and strong beneath those heavy gloves, her leather boots with the steel toes peeking through... there’s just nothing that isn’t sexy.
She comes to me later, stripped down to her white wife- beater and favorite battered jeans that ride low-slung across her narrow hips, so worn they’re as soft as a T-shirt, her muscular chest almost as flat as a boy’s, a real boy’s. She’s not one for labels and laughed when I told her what hers was, then pulled me across her lap and kissed me, the scent of steel and fire wafting between us.
There’s always a tang of fire in her hair, a breath of metal about her, as if she took the elements of her craft into herself and continued to exude them. Or was made of them all along.
She doesn’t believe in feng shui or astrology, so when I talk to her of elements, of water signs and fire signs, of dragons, wood or Taurus, she rolls her eyes and lets her beer bottle dangle between her fingertips.
“Dialing psychic hotline, Crazy speaking.” She holds her fingers like a phone, thumb to ear and pinkie to mouth.
__________


Me and My Boi Blog Tour Links and Book Giveaway:

June 12—Sacchi Green— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 13—Annabeth Leong-- http://annabethleong.blogspot.com/2016/06/me-and-my-boi-not-just-hair.html

June 14—Anna Watson— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 15—Sinclair Sexsmith-- www.sugarbutch.net

June 16—Jove Belle-- https://jovebelle.com/

June 17—Tamsin Flowers-- www.tamsinflowers.com

June 18—Victoria Villasenor— https://breywillows.com

June 19—J, Caladine—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 20—Victoria Janssen-- http://victoriajanssen.com

June 21—Dena Hankins--  http://denahankins.net/my-summer-of-boi/

June 22—D. Orchid—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 23—Pavini Moray-- https://emancipatingsexuality.com/ 

June 24—Melissa Mayhew—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 25—Jen Cross— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 26—Kyle Jones-- http://www.butchtastic.net/2016/06/blog-tour-for-me-and-my-boi/ 

June 27—Gigi Frost--https://www.facebook.com/notes/gigi-frost/book-give-away-and-blog-tour-me-and-my-boi/10155505162268084

June 28—Aimee Hermann— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 29—Sommer Marsden— http://sommermarsden.blogspot.com 

June 30—Axa Lee—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

July 1— Kathleen Tudor— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

BOOK GIVEAWAY

Anyone who comments on any of the posts will be entered in a drawing for one free copy of the anthology. You can comment on more than one post and be entered more than once. The winner will be announced and notified by July 5, if not sooner.


Tuesday, June 28, 2016

Me and My Boi Blog Tour-Aimee Herman

Today we focus on the distinctive voice of Aimee Herman. In her own words, she’s
 “a Brooklyn writer looking to disembowel the architecture of gender, bodies  and what it means to be queer. Find Aimee’s poems in Troubling the Line: Trans and Genderqueer Poetry and Poetics (Nightboat Books), in the full- length collection, to go without blinking (BlazeVOX books) and at aimeeherman.wordpress.com.”

Aimee also has her own idiosyncratic way with the architecture of prose, as you’ll see in this excerpt from her story “Bike Pedal. Empanadas. And Whiskey.”
__________

 Bike Pedal. Empanadas. And Whiskey.

I am going to try to find an adjective. One I’ve never used before, which may be difficult since I tend to use the same ones. And for the purpose of our conversation, I will call this person I’m trying to describe Q. I am going to need you to get comfortable. Order your drink now, so that when you take your last sip, the waiter will already know what you want and there will be no interruption. What’s that? Yes, it is quite loud in here, but this seemed like the best table and I do like the ambiance. Thickly painted women stuck inside these giant canvases. That one over there. Look. That one’s cleavage looks as though it’s a spill from the neck down. Don’t you think? Okay, good. You’ve got your whiskey and I’ve got mine.
The start of this isn’t so romantic. I was in a bike shop in Brooklyn on Franklin Avenue. Yes, that new one. And I was with my lover who had a busted pedal and needed a replace- ment. Inhale for a moment. Oh, take your sip and then inhale. Yes. Imagine this shop with scents of tires and oil. Now breathe in deeper because my lover interrupted these smells with his face. He still reeked of my cunt. He hadn’t brought his cock the night before when he came over, so he preferred to leave his clothes on. I was able to persuade him out of his pants and I imagined his cock into me. I was nude as I often am when I am home. He lifted me and I wrapped my thighs around him as though my legs were fan blades whipping at his hips. He didn’t throw me onto the bed; this isn’t a movie. It was a careful drop. He did not take the time to kiss my inner thighs or my belly or even my mouth. He just sucked out the sweat of my bush and dug his tongue into me.
Damn, this whiskey is good. I don’t even want to be gentle with it, you know? Where was I? So, we are in the bike shop. He is talking to the mechanic about his pedal, asking him to look at the alignment as well. I was walking around, my cunt still sore, wishing we hadn’t left my apartment, and then I saw Q. Here is where the proper adjective has to come into play. Imagine a mellifluous voice. And face. And...well, everything. Are you with me? Do you see this? Can you picture this? Okay. This isn’t Q. This one was more like aluminum. You know when you messily remove the metallic-like casing on the top of a wine bottle? It’s a bit sharp. It bends, but it can also cut. This is Q. There was no melody or rhythm to Q’s face. It was more like grit.
__________

Intrigued? Confused? When you get to read the whole story, fasten your seat belts!

Me and My Boi Blog Tour Links

June 12—Sacchi Green— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 13—Annabeth Leong-- http://annabethleong.blogspot.com/2016/06/me-and-my-boi-not-just-hair.html

June 14—Anna Watson— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 15—Sinclair Sexsmith-- www.sugarbutch.net

June 16—Jove Belle-- https://jovebelle.com/

June 17—Tamsin Flowers-- www.tamsinflowers.com

June 18—Victoria Villasenor— https://breywillows.com

June 19—J, Caladine—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 20—Victoria Janssen-- http://victoriajanssen.com

June 21—Dena Hankins--  http://denahankins.net/my-summer-of-boi/

June 22—D. Orchid—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 23—Pavini Moray-- https://emancipatingsexuality.com/ 

June 24—Melissa Mayhew—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 25—Jen Cross— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 26—Kyle Jones-- http://www.butchtastic.net/2016/06/blog-tour-for-me-and-my-boi/

June 27—Gigi Frost--https://www.facebook.com/notes/gigi-frost/book-give-away-and-blog-tour-me-and-my-boi/10155505162268084

June 28—Aimee Hermann— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 29—Sommer Marsden— http://sommermarsden.blogspot.com

June 30—Axa Lee—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

July 1— Kathleen Tudor— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

BOOK GIVEAWAY

Anyone who comments on any of the posts will be entered in a drawing for one free copy of the anthology. You can comment on more than one post and be entered more than once. The winner will be announced and notified by July 5, if not sooner.



Saturday, June 25, 2016

Me and My Boi Blog Tour--Jen Cross


Jen’ Cross’s “Hot Pants” is a gritty gem, set in a lesbian working-class bar way back in the times that Leslie Feinberg wrote about in Stone Butch Blues. Hot and intense all the way through, sex spiked with sorrow, the atmosphere shimmers with lust and conflict and characters you feel are real.

Here’s what Jen tells us in her bio:

JEN CROSS’s (writingourselveswhole.org) writing appears in a plethora of publications, including Women in Lust, Nobody Passes, Gotta Have It and many more. She’s toured nationally with the Body Heat Femme Porn Tour, and facilitates erotic and trauma survivors writing workshops in Oakland and around the country.

And here’s an excerpt from what Jen tells us in this outstanding story:
____________

Hot Pants

When I think of lust, I think of four-inch Mary Jane platforms, all black patent leather and white piping tracing the edges, being worn by a girl with the longest damn legs you ever saw—calves that curved around, butter smooth, settled over with a fine layer of gold hair, thighs like the long thunder rolling through a hot July night, and the tightest pair of hot pants you ever did see, cupped like not even second skin but first around her fleshy rump. The kinda girl who her friends say (the sharp, skinny ones at least) shouldn’t exactly be wearing hot pants anyway cuz look at how her butt keeps pushing out from under the shimmery material, all sweet and jiggly and needing just and exactly the sort of attention I could be giving to it. Yeah, these cold nights up here in Detroit when the steam heat’s not working right and I can hardly get the damn stove going hot enough to put some warmth into my too-tight studio, all I can do is think on Shirleen in those near-carnivorous hot pants, and how she let me in ’em just that one Christmas before I left.

Near the whole time I’d been in Atlanta, Shirleen’s butt had been firmly planted in the stony possession of her butch, Zeke. They’d been together far back as anyone I’d met could remember, and still she’d suddenly gaze at Z, turn those big dark-green pools onto Zeke’s tired, sweltery face with the kind of need that you’d expect to see from newlyweds, or really skillful whores, maybe. Zeke’d sling an arm across Shirleen’s soft, broad shoul- ders, cop a long, possessive feel, lock eyes with one butch or another, whoever she though maybe had been taking one too many tequila-glazed trips up and down Shirl’s impossibly long gams, and more often than not it’d be me Zeke’d be glaring at. Then she’d drain her beer, stand up, reach back for her girl and whisk Shirleen out to her Harley, with a sharp crack on the butt and a Well, then, come on, girl—let’s get to it. Shirleen’d grin wide and proud and I’d sometimes think I could smell her ache all the way across the smoky flats of the bar: somethin’ steamy and pungent and wet and quick as sea spray tracing its long, lingering way over beach grass back home.


The night they broke up was epic, the kinda tale that gets told at dyke bars for years, gets passed off as “Lesbian Herstory” when it’s actually just plain pain and sorrow and shamefaced loss.
__________

Wow. Give me a minute or two. Okay, here’s the list of links to the other posts in this tour, and info on entering the book giveaway:

Me and My Boi Blog Tour Links

June 12—Sacchi Green— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 13—Annabeth Leong-- http://annabethleong.blogspot.com/2016/06/me-and-my-boi-not-just-hair.html

June 14—Anna Watson— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 15—Sinclair Sexsmith-- www.sugarbutch.net

June 16—Jove Belle-- https://jovebelle.com/

June 17—Tamsin Flowers-- www.tamsinflowers.com

June 18—Victoria Villasenor—http://victoriajanssen.com

June 19—J, Caladine—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 20—Victoria Janssen-- http://victoriajanssen.com

June 21—Dena Hankins--  http://denahankins.net/my-summer-of-boi/

June 22—D. Orchid—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 23—Pavini Moray-- https://emancipatingsexuality.com/

June 24—Melissa Mayhew—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 25—Jen Cross— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 26—Kyle Jones-- http://www.butchtastic.net/2016/06/blog-tour-for-me-and-my-boi/ 

June 27—Gigi Frost--https://www.facebook.com/notes/gigi-frost/book-give-away-and-blog-tour-me-and-my-boi/10155505162268084

June 28—Aimee Hermann— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 29—Sommer Marsden— http://sommermarsden.blogspot.com

June 30—Axa Lee—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

July 1— Kathleen Tudor— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

BOOK GIVEAWAY

Anyone who comments on any of the posts will be entered in a drawing for one free copy of the anthology. You can comment on more than one post and be entered more than once. The winner will be announced and notified by July 5, if not sooner.

Friday, June 24, 2016

Me and My Boi Blog Tour--Melissa Mayhew


Today we feature Melissa Mayhew and her story “A Fresh Start,” which begins with the classic situation of a lesbian mechanic working on cars in an English garage, and takes it to unexpectedly moving (and erotic) territory.

Here's what she says in her bio in the book:

MELISSA MAYHEW loves writing romantic and erotic fiction. Her short stories include "Bend Over, Baby 1 & 2" and she has contributed to anthologies including The Mammoth Book of Urban Erotic Confessions. As Goldie Ledbury, she has published a novella, Lone Star Family Values. Melissa lives in Durham, England.


And now the most fun part: an excerpt! (I mean the fun part of this post. The story itself has many parts that are much more fun.)
__________

The bell on the customer counter rang just as she picked up her mug. Damn. As a small garage, they didn’t have a recep tionist, and anyone who was available went to serve when customers came in.
Wiping her hands on her boiler suit, she walked through to the customer area and saw a look of surprised relief wash across the pretty elfin features of the small brunette who stood waiting. Bob smiled easily. It wasn’t uncommon for female customers to feel intimidated in the largely male environment of the garage, and she often helped to put them at ease.
“Hi. Can I help you?”
The brunette looked sheepishly into her eyes. “I hope so. My car’s making a weird noise. I’ve no idea...” She trailed off.
“Okay. Why don’t you have a seat, and we’ll take a look at it. Do you have the keys?”
“Oh. Yes.” The woman slid a voluminous handbag from her shoulder, and raked through it. Bob laughed. “Looks like you’ve got the kitchen sink in there.”
The woman grimaced. “Just about literally. I’m just moving into the area. Basically, all my worldly goods are in the car, and this bag.”
Bob nodded, thinking how very sexy the woman was, with her smooth, dark hair, soft, curvy figure and small, slender hands.
“You’ve landed a job near here?”
“Uh-huh. Research assistant at the university. I only got the job last week, but they wanted me to start straightaway, so here I am. I’ve had to rent a house I’ve never even seen—some place nearby called Tanfield Village.”
Bob started. “Oh! You must have rented the old Mill House.” The woman’s eyes widened. “How did you—?”
“ESP?”
The woman blushed. “You wouldn’t want to read my mind.” Bob’s eyebrows rose. “No?”
She laughed nervously. “I wouldn’t want to shock you.”
“Sweetheart, that’s highly unlikely.” The endearment came naturally, unexpectedly, and for a moment, the two women looked at each other, a thousand unspoken thoughts swirling between them.
Bob cleared her throat, striving for normality. “I live in Tanfield. It’s a small village, and that’s the only place up for rent just now. It’s a nice house, you’ll like it.”
“Oh! We’ll be neighbours, then?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“In that case I’ll introduce myself. I’m Ellie.”
“Bob. Good to meet you.”
Bob looked into Ellie’s pretty blue eyes and wondered if the
color deepened when she was aroused. She could just imagine peeling off that fluffy little sweater, revealing the rounded curves of Ellie’s breasts, stroking the vulnerable tenderness of her stomach, hearing sighs and groans as her work-hardened hands slid across smooth skin lower to soft, moist warmth. Would she taste as good as she looked? Bob felt her stomach clench at the thought. Hell, she loved the scent and taste of an aroused woman, to bury her head—
__________

Now for links to all the other posts in this tour, and the book giveaway info.

Me and My Boi Blog Tour Links

June 12—Sacchi Green— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 13—Annabeth Leong-- http://annabethleong.blogspot.com/2016/06/me-and-my-boi-not-just-hair.html

June 14—Anna Watson— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 15—Sinclair Sexsmith-- www.sugarbutch.net

June 16—Jove Belle-- https://jovebelle.com/

June 17—Tamsin Flowers-- www.tamsinflowers.com

June 18—Victoria Villasenor— https://breywillows.com

June 19—J, Caladine—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 20—Victoria Janssen-- http://victoriajanssen.com

June 21—Dena Hankins--  http://denahankins.net/my-summer-of-boi/

June 22—D. Orchid—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 23—Pavini Moray-- https://emancipatingsexuality.com/

June 24—Melissa Mayhew—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 25—Jen Cross— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 26—Kyle Jones--http://www.butchtastic.net/2016/06/blog-tour-for-me-and-my-boi/ 

June 27—Gigi Frost--www.facebook.com/gigifrostwww.facebook.com/gigifrost

June 28—Aimee Hermann— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 29—Sommer Marsden— http://sommermarsden.blogspot.com

June 30—Axa Lee—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

July 1— Kathleen Tudor— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

BOOK GIVEAWAY

Anyone who comments on any of the posts will be entered in a drawing for one free copy of the anthology. You can comment on more than one post and be entered more than once. The winner will be announced and notified by July 5, if not sooner.


Wednesday, June 22, 2016

Me and My Boi Blog Tour--D. Orchid

Today’s focus is on writer D. Orchid and her story “Her Gardener’s Boy.”

Here's her bio from the book, and then the post she's written for us.

D. Orchid is a geeky mocha butch with a love of poetry, power dynamics, and stories that take readers to unexpected places alongside characters from every shade of every rainbow. Writing for wanderers at heart, D. explores joy and struggle, freedom and surrender, the sweetness and the darkness of life.

FROM D. ORCHID:

What can I say? I have a thing for femmes. So, my piece - "Her Gardener's Boy" - is like an ode, an extended erotic sonnet to those femmes who boldly climb into the lives of we masculine-of-center types and immediately recognize us on a metaphysical level. It is an exploration of that instant explosive chemistry that only comes about when discovery is still at the tip of our fingers, a fresh taste bursting over our tongues.

This story was also the result of a lot of British television and books, if I recall. I'm not sure if my characters always had accents in my head, but the setting was definitely a quaint, lush English garden with ivy-strewn walls guarding the rear end of a house just like the others on a quiet village street. It seems the least likeliest of places for sex games, but, perhaps because of that fact, the peace and beauty of it helped frame the action in a certain softness that couldn't have come from alternative settings.

As for the characters themselves and their dynamics, I can't pretend I am not influenced by the iconic imagery that came before me. The stubborn tomboy/butch still figuring things out? The sure of herself femme or feminine type whose confidence itself seems crush-worthy, let alone the rest of her? These tropes assert themselves often in my work when queer females are involved. I especially think this piece gives an indirect callback to the first queer film I ever saw - "The Incredibly True Adventure of Two Girls in Love" - which knitted unexpected class and racial dynamics in with gender dynamics and the general complications of being a teenager realizing one's own romantic and sexual quirks.

For that reason, I hope you find yourself donning a fond smirk as you read along, whether you're meeting someone new within the characters or recognizing someone you know already. Anticipating what might happen next (possibly with a hint of mischievous glee) is always the best part.

You can find out more about me and my published and upcoming works at:
http://d-orchid.com/author/

EXCERPT:

Her eyes slid over my sun-battered face, my t-shirt with a fraying collar, my ankle roll-up-cuffed overalls, and my already-dirty kicks, and her smile never wavered. All she said was: "You look ready to work, boy. Am I correct?"

"Yes, miss." I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin, ready and waiting for orders. It didn't matter that I didn't want to be a real boy. When she was here, this was her garden and I was just her gardener's boy.

"Well then," Aniah said with a gorgeous smirk draped across her lips and a sparkle of fun in her eyes, "about these rose bushes ..."

Her voice and the implicit arrangement she hadn't forgotten or tossed aside sent the swirl of worry and want in my stomach surging up to smack me in the chest, my breath pressing out all at once. "Yes, miss." I nodded, trying to remember to draw new air in and let it out again, tipping my head toward the row of pink flowering bushes near the bench. "Those there?"

"Yes." She pursed her lips as she assessed the bushes and then me again, a curious quirk in her eyebrow that I couldn't quite decipher. "It's a good place to start. I want to see your work up close today."

"Is that so?" I didn't have a hat to tip, but I nodded again, something more like a bow, and stepped aside to allow her to walk up to the bench before I bent to retrieve the gloves and tools I'd brought out from the shed. "A trim then, miss?"

"Yes," she said, as perfect as a painter's model, upright and yet somehow relaxed on the bench with her head tilted to regard the bushes in question. "Make them shapely, like bowls, a bit more rounded."

I went to them and down on my knees beside them, but found myself waiting again for some reason.

"Go ahead. I trust you." She nudged me gently with her toes, her voice soft and encouraging in ways that made warmth swim across my shoulders, knowing her eyes were taking in the curve of my back.

I twisted around to lift my eyes to hers, unsure how to tell her I was grateful that, even after her first year really quite far away, she'd come back to ... be with me this way. It didn't quite feel like play anymore, like when we were children and youths, but I wanted it, needed it, all the same.

Her smile turned knowing, her eyes like crystalized syrup, flashing nature's sweetness at me. "Is there a problem, boy?"

"No, miss." I shook my head. "I'll do it however you like. Whatever you like." Not just these bushes, I meant, though I couldn't explain that all out loud. This garden, or me, or the world. In that moment, I might have meant them all.

"Yes." She nodded, a more serious and thoughtful expression on her face than I'd seen before, her voice still soft but firmer somehow, as if she'd considered this all a long time ago. "However I like and whatever I like."

My heart skidded with her eyes on me like that and even fully clothed, I felt like my skin was bare to her eyes. The stirring summer wind wasn't enough to cool the fire she left burning there.

"Now get to it, boy. We'll talk later."

Work first, I knew that, and I lowered my eyes respectfully. "Yes, miss."

__________

Now for links to all the other posts in this tour, and the book giveaway info.

Me and My Boi Blog Tour Links

June 12—Sacchi Green— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 13—Annabeth Leong-- http://annabethleong.blogspot.com/2016/06/me-and-my-boi-not-just-hair.html

June 14—Anna Watson— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 15—Sinclair Sexsmith-- www.sugarbutch.net

June 16—Jove Belle-- https://jovebelle.com/

June 17—Tamsin Flowers-- www.tamsinflowers.com

June 18—Victoria Villasenor— https://breywillows.com

June 19—J, Caladine—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 20—Victoria Janssen-- http://victoriajanssen.com

June 21—Dena Hankins--  http://denahankins.net/my-summer-of-boi/

June 22—D. Orchid—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 23—Pavini Moray-- https://emancipatingsexuality.com/ 

June 24—Melissa Mayhew—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 25—Jen Cross— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 26—Kyle Jones--http://www.butchtastic.net/2016/06/blog-tour-for-me-and-my-boi/ 

June 27—Gigi Frost--www.facebook.com/gigifrostwww.facebook.com/gigifrost

June 28—Aimee Hermann— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 29—Sommer Marsden— http://sommermarsden.blogspot.com 

June 30—Axa Lee—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

July 1— Kathleen Tudor— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

BOOK GIVEAWAY

Anyone who comments on any of the posts will be entered in a drawing for one free copy of the anthology. You can comment on more than one post and be entered more than once. The winner will be announced and notified by July 5, if not sooner.








Sunday, June 19, 2016

Me and My Boi Blog Tour--J. Caladine


J. Caladine lives, writes and has interesting adventures in California’s Bay Area. She hopes her story turns you on, and that you do something about it.

She says of her story “Dynamic Duo” that "unlike my other published work, which is mostly fiction, this story is mostly just a description of an actual experience. I saw the call for submissions a very short time after it occurred, and just wrote it out. When I finished the first draft, I shared it with the girl involved, and she gave me a couple of edits for accuracy :) It was fun to extend the life of the experience by writing about it...hope you enjoy it!"

“Interesting adventures” is an understatement. If you’ve ever doubted (as I have) that online dating systems can lead to dynamic, superbly satisfying encounters, J. Caladine blows those doubts out of the water.

Here’s a brief excerpt from “Dynamic Duo”
__________

The online dating site system sent me her profile as a match on the very first day. Her profile picture is a high-femme glam shot. I don’t usually take that bait, but she looked like she was having a lot of fun, so I clicked. There were more pictures: gamine, shy, sexy librarian. That’s bait I can’t resist, so I read her profile. She said she was looking for people who are masculine-of-center and top-of-center: girls who are boys. Maybe that match system was onto something.
That’s me right through. So I messaged her and invited her to check out my profile. What she found there was a picture of my best Italian, shiny, black, monk strap dress shoes, and the information that I am a confident butch top seeking femme play partners who need spanking. She wrote back, “This could work,” and asked for my picture.
__________

Don’t you want to see for yourself  how very well it worked?

Here’s the list of links to all the posts in this Blog Tour, and details on how to enter the drawing for a free copy of the book.

Me and My Boi Blog Tour Links

June 12—Sacchi Green— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 13—Annabeth Leong-- http://annabethleong.blogspot.com/2016/06/me-and-my-boi-not-just-hair.html

June 14—Anna Watson— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 15—Sinclair Sexsmith-- www.sugarbutch.net

June 16—Jove Belle-- https://jovebelle.com/

June 17—Tamsin Flowers-- www.tamsinflowers.com

June 18—Victoria Villasenor— https://breywillows.com

June 19—J, Caladine— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com 

June 20—Victoria Janssen-- http://victoriajanssen.com

June 21—Dena Hankins--  http://denahankins.net/my-summer-of-boi/

June 22—D. Orchid— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 23—Pavini Moray-- https://emancipatingsexuality.com/

June 24—Melissa Mayhew—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 25—Jen Cross— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 26—Kyle Jones--http://www.butchtastic.net/2016/06/blog-tour-for-me-and-my-boi/

June 27—Gigi Frost--www.facebook.com/gigifrost

June 28—Aimee Hermann— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 29—Sommer Marsden— http://sommermarsden.blogspot.com

June 30—Axa Lee— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

July 1— Kathleen Tudor— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com 



BOOK GIVEAWAY

Anyone who comments on any of the posts will be entered in a drawing for one free copy of the anthology. You can comment on more than one post and be entered more than once. The winner will be announced and notified by July 5, if not sooner.





Tuesday, June 14, 2016

Me and My Boi Blog Tour--Anna Watson

Today on the Blog Tour we have Anna Watson's insights regarding her story “Cricket.” Each of Anna’s many stories is a gem, so search them out whenever you can.
__________

I used to see the dyke owner/chef of a local restaurant walking to work. She wore a checkered chef’s jacket, and was usually toting a bag of produce. I liked to think about her mulling over dessert options and ideas for the edgy entrees the restaurant was known for. All that lesbo food power was a turn on, for sure, and I always loved to see her striding along.

One time, I was in a group of straight people, and one of the women started talking about the dyke’s restaurant, “You know, the one owned by that funny little woman.” I was struck dumb by the difference between how I saw the owner and how this straight woman saw her. Queer sexuality and power erased entirely with the phrase “funny little”.

Cricket was born from this experience, and also from all the time I spent in Missoula, MT, where the story is set. Also, a little, by my mother, who has always walked her own path and is certainly a character who could be seen as a funny little woman (witness her life-long habit of safety-pinning her blouses exactly between the top and second button, for example) but who had a powerhouse career as an eminant archeologist, knows more about pretty much everything than just about anyone, and is super sexy in her own quirky way.

And then, of course, what could be hotter than finding an extremely willing diamond in the rough, just when you were least expecting it?

“What a funny little woman,” said my co-worker.
I looked up from my computer to see our 10 o’clock in the parking lot, a client I hadn’t met before. She was getting out of an old, dark blue Chevy Impala, a real granddad car. She opened the back door, took out a small leather briefcase, then checked twice that the doors were locked before making her way over to our law office. Her movements were precise and purposeful and she held herself stiffly upright, carrying the briefcase almost reverently. As she reached the door, Arvid, the senior partner, came rushing out to greet her, ushering her quickly into his inner sanctum with just a quick command of, “Coffee!” over his shoulder.
I knocked and brought in the tray. Arvid introduced me to Heloise Taylor, saying that her mother had died suddenly and that they were discussing the will. I murmured my sympathies as I set out the coffee things.

Heloise was the sole survivor, the last of her family. She and her mother had lived together, and it was obvious that Heloise was in shock at her mother’s death. Still, she was completely present at the table, paying close attention to everything Arvid was saying. It was almost as if, even in the depths of her grief – especially in the depths of her grief – she wanted to show us how well she was caring for her mother.
The will had a few minor complications, nothing serious, but Heloise did have to come in several times after that first appointment. She always came alone. I always sat in. I wished there had been someone we could call to help her, a niece or a cousin, but she kept saying that there was no one and that she was fine. The last time she came in, she waited until Arvid had left the room, then stood to shake my hand.
“Thank you for your help, Tiffany. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”
I watched out the window as she made her way to her car. She was wearing the same clothes she’d worn for the first appointment, when my co-worker had called her a funny little woman. I wondered if they had been her mother’s clothes, or something her mother chose for her: beige polyester elastic-waisted slacks in a large check, circa 1975, a turquoise sweater set, black lace-up old lady shoes with white athletic anklets. I could see what was so amusing, of course, but Heloise had her own dignity. And it was her dignity that I had been noticing. And another thing. I was pretty sure that her short graying hair had been cut by a barber.




Anna Watson is a married, old-school femme who queers suburbia west of Boston and who has been writing about butch/femme sexuality for over 20 years. This story is for neighborhood characters and funny little women everywhere. You are gorgeous, sexy, fabulous. Show me. I want to see.
__________

Links to the complete Blog Tour, and book giveaway details:

June 12—Sacchi Green— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 13—Annabeth Leong-- http://annabethleong.blogspot.com/2016/06/me-and-my-boi-not-just-hair.html

June 14—Anna Watson— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 15—Sinclair Sexsmith-- www.sugarbutch.net

June 16—Jove Belle-- https://jovebelle.com/

June 17—Tamsin Flowers-- www.tamsinflowers.com

June 18—Victoria Villasenor— https://breywillows.com

June 19—J, Caladine—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 20—Victoria Janssen-- http://victoriajanssen.com

June 21—Dena Hankins--  http://denahankins.net/my-summer-of-boi/

June 22—D. Orchid— http://sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 23—Pavini Moray-- https://emancipatingsexuality.com/

June 24—Melissa Mayhew—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 25—Jen Cross— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 26—Kyle Jones-- http://www.butchtastic.net/2016/06/blog-tour-for-me-and-my-boi/

June 27—Gigi Frost--www.facebook.com/gigifrostwww.facebook.com/gigifrost

June 28—Aimee Hermann— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 29—Sommer Marsden— http://sommermarsden.blogspot.com

June 30—Axa Lee—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

July 1— Kathleen Tudor— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com


BOOK GIVEAWAY

Anyone who comments on any of the posts will be entered in a drawing for one free copy of the anthology. You can comment on more than one post and be entered more than once. The winner will be announced and notified by July 5, if not sooner.



Sunday, June 12, 2016

Me and My Boi: Blog Tour and Book Giveaway

Me and My Boi: Queer Erotic Stories
Edited by Sacchi Green for Cleis Press
http://www.amazon.com/Me-My-Boi-Erotic-Stories/dp/1627781218/ref=sr_1_5_twi_pap_2?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1463875520&sr=1-5&keywords=sacchi+green



Oh, Me and My Boi, it feels like we’ve been swimming upstream together forever! It’s actually been somewhat less than three years since I had my anthology proposal accepted, with some tweaking of the title. I don’t even remember my original attempt, except that it had the term “butch” in it. I was told that the young staff in the publisher’s office insisted that nobody used that term any more, and everybody said “boi,” so even though I knew that my old-guard friends still said “butch,” and that “boi” by no means denotes the exactly same concept, I had no choice but to concede the point. Still, the title has kind of grown on me in the two years since I turned in the manuscript, and after all the inevitable delays and complications that went with the publisher preparing to retire and sell the business, and the new owner sorting things out, here we are! We have a book! And it’s well worth the wait.

This blog tour will run from today, June 12th, to July 1st, with every writer and story featured for a day. The list of links and dates comes at the end of this post, along with information about the drawing for a free copy of the book. Some writers will be posting on their own sites, some will send me their posts to include here, and for those few with looming deadlines or other circumstances leaving them no time, I’ll post their bios and excerpts from their stories.

As I say in my introduction, this book is a celebration of all things boi, butch, masculine-of-center, in those who include lesbian as a part of their identities. These are stories of people we love, and people we are, who put their own personal spins on the gender spectrum. Bois who like girls, bois who like bois, bois who like both; those who don’t label themselves boi or butch at all but can’t stand to wear a skirt; screw-the-binary free spirits of many flavors. Cool bois, hot bois, swaggering bois, shy bois, leather bois, flannel bois, butch daddies, and the femmes and mommas and tops and bottoms and even girls next door who wouldn’t have them any other way.
Writers always blow me away with the variety in their stories, and the twenty here are no exception. Some are from a boi’s point of view, some from a femme’s, some from a seasoned butch’s. Some deal with youthful self-discovery and others with finding your inner butch later in life. The settings range from a charming English garden and an equally charming (if greasy) English car-repair garage, to a racing sailboat, to quiet forests and rushing cities and dimly-lit bedrooms where the rest of the world might as well not exist. A couple of pieces take us back through time to a Regency drawing room and an old-school, pre-Stonewall lesbian blue collar bar, but most could be taking place just yesterday, or today, or tomorrow.
 And, of course, all these stories give us a charge of steamy, explicit sex that develops naturally out of all the elements in the story. The action may be kinky, or hard-edged, or sweet, or passionately emotional—or even blends of those that you wouldn’t have thought possible—but whatever turns you on, or cuts deep, or sparks your wildest fantasies, if these writers don’t push the buttons you already have, maybe they’ll hook you up with some new ones. Gender has no boundaries, and neither does lust.

Here’s an excerpt from my own piece in the book:

Gargoyle Lovers                                                                                          
Sacchi Green

 “I’m siingin’ in the raaiin…” But that song was from the wrong Gene Kelly movie, and it wasn’t quite raining, and I was only whistling. My speaking voice gets me by, but singing blows the whole presentation.
Hal glanced down, her face stern in that exaggerated way that makes me tingle in just the right places. I shoved my hands into my pockets, skipped a step or two, and knew she felt as good as I did. Hal’s hardly the type to dance through the Paris streets like Gene Kelly, especially across square cobblestones, but there was a certain lilt to her gait.
Or maybe a swagger. “That pretty-boy waiter was all over you,” I said slyly. A gay guy making a pass always makes her day. “And giving me dirty looks every chance he got!”
“Lucky for you I’m not cruising for pretty boys, then. But don’t give me too much lip or I might change my mind.”
I couldn’t quite manage penitence, but at least I knew better than to remind her that she already had a pretty boy, for better or worse. Still, some punishment games would be a fine end to the evening. Last night we’d been too jetlagged to take proper advantage of the Parisian atmosphere. “That Maitre D with a beak like a gargoyle was sure eyeing me, too, especially from behind.” I gave another little skip.
Hal ignored the bait. “Thought you’d had your fill of gargoyles today.” A cathedral wouldn’t have been her first choice for honeymoon sightseeing, but the mini-balcony of our rental apartment had a stupendous view of Notre-Dame de Paris. I’d oohed and ahhed about gargoyles over our croissants and cafĂ©-au-lait, so she’d humored me and we’d taken the tour.


Now for the links. I’m looking forward to seeing what these terrific writers have to say.

June 12—Sacchi Green— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 13—Annabeth Leong-- http://annabethleong.blogspot.com/2016/06/me-and-my-boi-not-just-hair.html

June 14—Anna Watson— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 15—Sinclair Sexsmith-- www.sugarbutch.net

June 16—Jove Belle-- https://jovebelle.com/

June 17—Tamsin Flowers-- www.tamsinflowers.com

June 18—Victoria Villasenor— https://breywillows.com

June 19—J, Caladine—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 20—Victoria Janssen-- http://victoriajanssen.com

June 21—Dena Hankins--  http://denahankins.net/my-summer-of-boi/

June 22—D. Orchid—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 23—Pavini Moray-- https://emancipatingsexuality.com/

June 24—Melissa Mayhew—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 25—Jen Cross—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 26—Kyle Jones--http://www.butchtastic.net/2016/06/blog-tour-for-me-and-my-boi/

June 27—Gigi Frost--www.facebook.com/gigifrostwww.facebook.com/gigifrost

June 28—Aimee Hermann— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

June 29—Sommer Marsden—http://sommermarsden.blogspot.com

June 30—Axa Lee—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com

July 1— Kathleen Tudor— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com



BOOK GIVEAWAY

Anyone who comments on any of the posts will be entered in a drawing for one free copy of the anthology. You can comment on more than one post and be entered more than once. The winner will be announced and notified by July 5th, if not sooner.




Wednesday, May 4, 2016

GCLS Finalists



Two books I've edited are finalists for the Golden Crown Literary Society Award this year, Through the Hourglass: Lesbian Historical Romance for Fiction Anthology and Thunder of War, Lightning of Desire: Lesbian Historical Military Erotica for Erotica. The winners will be announced at the GCLS convention on July 9.

Both of these books have historical themes, and I jumped at the chance to do them. Fortunately two wonderful groups of writers shared my love of history and contributed stories that I'm proud to share with you.

 

You can "Look Inside" each of them on Amazon
http://www.amazon.com/Thunder-War-Lightning-Desire-Historical-ebook/dp/B016RB74RW/ref=sr_1_1_twi_kin_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1445302122&sr=1-1&keywords=thunder+of+war+lightning+of+desire

https://www.amazon.com/Through-Hourglass-Lesbian-Historical-Anthology-ebook/dp/B01845NXM4?ie=UTF8&qid=1462421384&ref_=tmm_kin_swatch_0&sr=1-1

Friday, March 18, 2016

New Best Lesbian Erotica Call for Submissions

The Best Lesbian Erotica anthology for 2017 is being edited by D.L. King, with a very short lead time since the publisher has decided to bring it out by Christmas, so get your story to her by May 1. Guidelines at: http://dlkingerotica.blogspot.com. My friend D.L. is a great editor, and she'll produce an anthology you'd be proud to be included in. I'm certainly going to submit.


Tuesday, February 23, 2016

BLE Blog Tour for Frankie Grayson--"Mirror, Mirror"


BLE Blog Tour, by Frankie Grayson


“We are quick change artists, we girls.”
I first read that sentence, by Jeanette Winterson in her highly erotic story “The Poetics of Sex,” when I was a senior in college and falling in love. With? Everything important: my own writing, and the radically, wonderfully queer material in my gender studies classes that made me feel a kind of inner sigh, like one you might make when you’ve arrived home. I’d wanted to write for so long but worried I had nothing important to write about because I wrote about women, and the world I’d grown up in told me in so many ways that women weren’t important. Discovering writers like Winterson put a defiant, ecstatic buzz in my blood for the way their work insisted that identity, desire, and sex in every sense were worth exploring on the page.
I’m indulging in a little nostalgia because my story in the 20th Anniversary edition of Best Lesbian Erotica is my first published piece of erotica—and because it carries an echo of that sentence I fell for years ago. The narrator in my story “Mirror, Mirror” is challenged to face her own quick-changeability by a woman who is both her like and her opposite. I wanted to use mirrors, doubling, and reflections to playfully (but deadly seriously) venture the idea that when we’re beheld and held by another, we can slip and shift to meet them and so, find ourselves. I think that kind of discovery is one of the reasons that sex—hot sex, brave sex—is such a vital human experience, on the page and in our real-life sheets. It’s why I read erotica, and why I write it, and why I hope this is just the first of many times I’ll get to share a story I’ve told with readers.
Thanks for being my first.  


Dim, colored bulbs lit the passages we crept down. Jets of air burst from unseen vents, or the floor gave way to rollers, leaving us laughing and grabbing hands for balance. Rae’s laugh was like her voice: smoky, languid. Killer.
Then came the obligatory room of trick mirrors. In the first, we were all crazily stretched legs and even then, proportioned like a heron, Rae had my mouth watering. But I also noted what I had from the beginning, that she and I actually looked alike. Hair dark and jaw-length, hers curly, mine straight. Similar lines to our faces, same build and height.
Initially, it had felt almost weird to be attracted to her—would she diagnose me as a narcissist, if I were her patient? But the boil in my blood told me this wasn’t self-worship; I wanted to worship her, toes to tits to teeth. Rae was also prettier, no false modesty, and wore “our” features perfected. I was a jeans-and-tee-shirt girl. I liked boots. I’d throw on some brown eyeliner when I had to meet with a donor but mostly didn’t think about how I wanted to look. How I wanted to be.    
Rae, on the other hand, was stunning, all business hard-ass with a very feminine edge. Silky camisoles peeking from chic blazers, dangerously sharp pencil skirts with the attitude to match. That night she wore a tight sweater and even tighter jeans. Black kohl on her eyes and lips painted red as a candy apple. Or a poisoned one.
In our reflection, Rae watched me watching us. “You like mirrors?” she asked. Instantly I thought of how we’d look in some glassy surface, tangled—my head between her curvy thighs, the fall of her breasts as she leaned over me—and swallowed hard.
“Depends on what I’m looking at,” I said. We stepped to the next mirror to catch each other’s gaze, finish the volley of flirtation, and busted up when our eyes blinked back big as dinner plates.
“Come on,” she said, pulling me along by the hand. The walls of the next passage were all glass, and then we took a corner and were swallowed by mirrored angles. A maze.
We wove around turns and backed out of dead ends. Whichever way you looked, there you were, but different sides—in profile, the back of your own head. It was dizzying, seeing all of myself at once, and my heart beat faster. Or maybe that was just Rae, and the scent of her finally, finally right there.
We hit another end, and I turned to get out. But Rae just stopped, only inches between us, and then backed me up until my head softly tapped the glass. From every angle, I stared at myself over Rae’s shoulder, twelve of me, twenty. An infinity. And an infinity of Rae, facing me. My pulse going wild.
Watching me intently, Rae tipped her head. Considering something. Then she
said, “So when do you want to go out?”
“Um, Sunday?”
“Where’s your phone?”
I pulled it from my pocket, handed it to her. She whisked her fingers over its lucky face and gave it back. “You have my number.”
Then she leaned in. Her hair whispered over my cheek. Her lips pressed softly against the side of my neck, with that slight, maddening point of wet at the center that cooled instantly as she pulled away.
“So Sunday,” she said, and turned. I followed her. She seemed so sure of where she was going.
And she was. She led us directly out of the maze, the end of the fun house, and turned to wink at me just before she disappeared into the jostling crowd. It wasn’t until later, undressed, that I saw in my own bathroom mirror what my shirt collar had concealed: the perfect stain of her red lips on the side of my neck. Like I’d been marked.

Comment here or on any of the linked posts to be entered in a drawing for a free copy of Best Lesbian Erotica 20th Anniversary Edition.

Blog Tour Links

Feb 10
Sacchi Green-Introduction
http://sacchi-green.blogspot.com

Feb. 11
Rose de Fer-“Dust”
http://poisonthorns.blogspot.co.uk/

Feb. 12
Louise Blaydon-“Ascension”
 https://louiseblaydon.wordpress.com/

Feb 13
MeganMc Ferren-“The Royalty Underground”
http://sacchi-green.blogspot.com

Feb. 14
Harper Bliss-“Reunion Tour”
 http://wp.me/p2tvlj-Yn

Feb 15
D.L. King-“Hot Blood”
dlkingerotica.blogspot.com 

Feb 16
Jean Roberta-“Tears from Heaven”
http://jean_roberta.livejournal.com

Feb  17
Sinclair Sexsmith-“Luscious and Wild”
http://www.sugarbutch.net

Feb 18
R.G. Emanuelle-“Smorgasbord”
http://sacchi-green.blogspot.com 

Feb 19
Rose  P. Lethe-“A Professional”
https://roseplethe.wordpress.com/2016/01/31/excerpt-the-professional/

Feb 20
Anna Watson-“Easy”
http://sacchi-green.blogspot.com  

Feb 21
Valerie Alexander-“Grind House”
http://www.valeriealexander.org

Feb 22
Annabeth Leong-“Give and Take”
annabethleong.blogspot.com

Feb 23
Frankie Grayson-“Mirror Mirror”
http://sacchi-green.blogspot.com

Feb 24
Cheyenne Blue-“The Road to Hell”
www.cheyenneblue.com

Feb 25
Emily L. Byrne-“The Further Adventures of Miss Scarlet”
http://writeremilylbyrne.blogspot.com

Feb 26
Sossity Chiricuzio-“Make them Shine”
http://sossitywrites.tumblr.com/ 

Feb  27
Teresa Noelle Roberts-“Tomato Bondage”
http://www.teresanoelleroberts.com/?p=2185









Saturday, February 20, 2016

BLE Blog Tour-Anna Watson, "Easy"


If you should have the great good luck to be called up onstage at a flaming hot Drag King show, would it be a curse or a blessing to be “easy”? Here’s a brief excerpt from Anna Watson’s “Easy,” but you need to read the whole thing in the book to form an opinion on that question.  Research. Call it research.

__________
It was hot up on stage, and I couldn’t see the audience very well because of the bright lights. I could hear my friends screaming my name, though, and I was so nervous I almost jumped back down to join them, but Mister Benson had hold of my hand in a commanding grip. Tall and slender, he was wearing a Daddy cap, a leather vest over his white t-shirt, jeans and chaps, and some shit-kicking boots. He led me over to sit on a single bed, all frilly and pink, that had been wheeled onto stage. Beside the bed was a nightstand with a phone on it, a deck of cards, and a vase holding a single red rose. Grooving to the beat of the loud funk coming over the sound system, the rest of the Kings presented themselves to me. Sonny Boner, his impressive package looking good in his bicycle shorts, gave me a friendly pat on the shoulder. Power Strip kissed my hand, so dapper in his striped zoot suit. Captain Candy brushed back his long hair so I could see the gold rings in his ears, and blew me a sexy kiss. Fats Dominant came to attention and gave me a snappy salute, handsome as hell in his sergeant’s dress uniform. Mister Benson just looked haughtily into my eyes and then away, never letting go of my hand. I was so flattered by the silent, exaggerated way they were welcoming me, playing to the crowd like the yummiest treat had just been dropped in their midst. And the male, pussy-driven energy they were giving off was really sending me.
“We’ll be back,” Mister Benson whispered, his lips brushing my ear. “Don’t go anywhere.”
The Kings grooved off the stage and the lights went down, leaving just a spot on me. The music stopped and the crowd held its breath. This was the last number of the night.
I sat there feeling silly, feeling turned on. This would be something I could tell the grandkids about, the time I’d been in a number with the handsomest, sexiest, most popular drag kings this side of the Mississippi. My friends passed me up a beer, which I chugged, then passed back. I took a deep cleansing breath. I was in for the duration. I wanted to be. But truthfully, along with the turn on and the fun of it all, I was struggling with just the teensiest worry.
See, I have this problem. Or you could call it a talent. A gift. The thing is, I’m a seriously sensual girl. I swear that everything—smells, tastes, sounds, the way things look and feel—go straight to the pleasure center in my brain. And from there, on down. See, I’m easy, is what it is. To put it bluntly, I’m the kind of girl who can come at the drop of a hat. You don’t even have to be touching me. Once, I came in the movie theater watching Vasquez in “Aliens”.
__________

Trust me. You really want to go where Anna takes you.

Anna Watson is a piece of tired-ass pimento baloney in the white bread sandwich of her teenage sons and elderly parents, and yet she bravely soldiers on, writing and publishing as much butch/femme smut as possible. She’s pretty sure she deserves a femme medal of valor, and is just waiting for the awarding body to appear.

Comment on any of these Blog Tour posts to be entered in a drawing for a free copy of Best Lesbian Erotica 20th Anniversary Edition.

Blog Tour Links

Feb 10
Sacchi Green-Introduction
http://sacchi-green.blogspot.com

Feb. 11
Rose de Fer-“Dust”
http://poisonthorns.blogspot.co.uk/

Feb. 12
Louise Blaydon-“Ascension”
 https://louiseblaydon.wordpress.com/

Feb 13
MeganMc Ferren-“The Royalty Underground”
http://sacchi-green.blogspot.com

Feb. 14
Harper Bliss-“Reunion Tour”
 http://wp.me/p2tvlj-Yn

Feb 15
D.L. King-“Hot Blood”
dlkingerotica.blogspot.com

Feb 16
Jean Roberta-“Tears from Heaven”
http://jean_roberta.livejournal.com

Feb  17
Sinclair Sexsmith-“Luscious and Wild”
http://www.sugarbutch.net

Feb 18
R.G. Emanuelle-“Smorgasbord”
http://sacchi-green.blogspot.com

Feb 19
Rose  P. Lethe-“A Professional”
https://roseplethe.wordpress.com/2016/01/31/excerpt-the-professional/

Feb 20
Anna Watson-“Easy”
http://sacchi-green.blogspot.com

Feb 21
Valerie Alexander-“Grind House”
http://www.valeriealexander.org

Feb 22
Annabeth Leong-“Give and Take”
annabethleong.blogspot.com

Feb 23
Frankie Grayson-“Mirror Mirror”
http://sacchi-green.blogspot.com

Feb 24
Cheyenne Blue-“The Road to Hell”
www.cheyenneblue.com

Feb 25
Emily L. Byrne-“The Further Adventures of Miss Scarlet”
http://writeremilylbyrne.blogspot.com

Feb 26
Sossity Chiricuzio-“Make them Shine”
http://sossitywrites.tumblr.com/

Feb  27
Teresa Noelle Roberts-“Tomato Bondage”
http://www.teresanoelleroberts.com/?p=2185