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.
Thursday, December 13, 2018
The BLE v. 3 Blog Tour, Highlightng M.Birds and “Where There’s Smoke”
I’m always glad to see stories by M. Birds, and I know I can count on her to show me the unexpected. This time she writes an almost-contemporary piece, “almost” because since she wrote it laws have changed, and the story might have changed and lost that slight transgressive flavor. Can you guess yet what kind of smoke is involved?
First, here’s her brief bio from the book:
M. Birds is a mad queer writer and musician from Vancouver, British Columbia. Her short fiction has previously been published by Freaky Fountain Press, Cleis Press and Hot Ink Press. You can visit her at mbirds.ca for more sordid details.
And now for two excerpts, because this story is too complex for just one.
Where There’s Smoke
“The woman in the woods been asking for you,” Kyle said when June saw him, leaning over the pharmacist’s counter.
“The hell she was.”
“Well, not you specifically, but...you know. Your goods and services. Told her I’d pass the message on.”
June chewed on her lower lip. “No thanks, man. What if she’s a cop or something?”
Kyle snorted. He and June had grown up together, danced with each other at their high school’s half-assed prom. June was still dreaming of leaving then—getting out of their tiny town, moving to the city, going to school. She’d had big, big plans.
“That woman ain’t no cop.” Kyle shook his head. “You’ve seen her.”
June had seen her. Everyone in town had seen her walking through the slushy streets with boots that cost more than a month’s rent. Some artsy type from the city, renting Frank Pinchbeck’s cabin for the season. Even though the snow was finally melting, the woman in the woods seemed constantly wrapped in plaid and flannel, huge wool coats and cashmere scarves.
“Could have money,” Kyle said, considering. “You should cut me in.”
June rolled her eyes. But the next day, she filled her messenger bag and headed into the woods.
Got it? You will when you read this part:
“Take this off.” Miriam tugged at June’s cardigan, pulling at the neck of it so that she could lean up and fasten her teeth there. “I want to see you. Please, can you?”
“Yes.” June kissed the word into her mouth and then promptly forgot what she was answering. Miriam’s tongue licked sweetly against June’s own, and June tilted her head, opened up to more of it. She felt Miriam’s hands at the small of her back, pulling her closer against her. The voice in June’s head shouted “stoned on drugs that you sold her,” and that—that was something June really couldn’t ignore.
“Wait.” She pulled back from Miriam’s kiss. “Wait.”
Miriam watched her, breathing silent but rapid. Her hands still moved restlessly up and down June’s back, as if she couldn’t help herself.
“You’re high and I’m not.”
“I don’t want you to do anything you change your mind about later.”
Miriam rolled her eyes. “Darling—first of all, I barely smoked anything and I’m well in control of my faculties. And second, I really, really want to touch you, and my hands don’t hurt for the first time in months, and as the clear-headed one of course you are welcome to say no, but please don’t say no because you think you’re—taking advantage. My God, if anything the opposite is true.”
“You’re taking advantage of me?”
Miriam raised one eyebrow, the corner of her mouth curling to match. “The older woman...luring a young innocent up to her secluded cabin in the woods...”
“Jesus.” June laughed, leaning forward to kiss Miriam again. “Forget I said anything. You’re obviously a predator.”
“Damn right.” Miriam bit June’s earlobe sharply before soothing it with her tongue. “Now take off your shirt.”
After that, of course, where there’s smoke, there certainly is fire.