Six Sentence Sunday: From Party Favors

He whispered, but had his mouth so close to her ear that she jumped. “Chocolate kiss Kama Sutra honey dust with a feather brush. You have to get that. Dust him up. Dust you up. Let him go downtown on you.”

That’s from Party Favors, my erotic short story about Dani and Guy. They meet on a steamy day in New Orleans, but they’re gonna need a little help to make it steamier. That’s why Dani finds herself at a sex toy party. It’s at Cobblestone Press.

Also check out the other great entries at Six Sentence Sunday. It makes for an interesting day of reading.

Six Sentence Sunday: Theoretical Play

I’ve been less than perfect lately when it comes to writing, blogging, reading–gah! I have, at the least, been outlining and sketching story ideas during my respite. One is “Theoretical Play”, a story about a physics graduate student and a professional footballer (or soccer player if you live in the US). I have no idea where it is going or even what the conflict will be. Knowing that, here are a few sentences. UPDATE: Today ended up being a day away from the computer and Six Sentence Sunday. My apologies, because I know that so many of them are great.

Javier sat next to her on the bed and leaned in front of her. “I think I shall have to find more hours to be with you.” He nuzzled on her neck and moved to her lips. “You held on so tight to my hair that I am sore. Headers will be painful. You will be, eh, how do you say it, on my head all day.”

Check out the others at or look for them on Twitter with the hashtag #sixsunday.

Six Sentence Sunday: From Party Favors

So many great entries are part of Six Sentence Sunday. Read mine, grab the short story from Cobblestone Press, and then get on over to read the others. It’s become my Sunday ritual. I even read some on the other days of the week if I can’t get to them all. This will be one of those days since I will be on the road for some of today.

A quick set up for Party Favors and this scene–Dani and Guy reunite at a summer music festival. (Actually Satchmo Fest, coming soon to New Orleans. Grab your fan and go.) She begins the conversation after he asks her what is next.

A couple dancing forró, photo by Natalia Bezerra/Flickr Creative Commons License.

“I rather enjoyed the dancing.”

“Then I shall oblige.” He offered her his hand.

The flutter in her heart wasn’t from the heat or the dancing. “Can I just say that I should have done this in high school?”

“It’s better that you waited until now. I did the white boy bounce back then.”

Six Sentence Sunday: Lingerie, She’s got a thing for it.

This novella, from which I’ve pulled the past three Six Sentence Sunday entries, will be published with The Wild Rose Press with the title Behaving Badly. I don’t know the release date, but until then, enjoy a bit more about Jessica. The place mentioned in these six sentences is real. Check out the selections at the shop. Make sure to check out the other posts at Six Sentence Sunday.

Jess nodded. While she couldn’t afford to shop much, she enjoyed riding her bike along the six mile corridor of boutiques, restaurants, and houses. The mannequins in black and gold lingerie drew her into the House of Lounge two months ago. She’d saved twenty dollars a week to buy the bra, corset, thong, garters and stockings she wore under her vintage 40s dress. The owner gave her a discount, which is one of the reasons she agreed to come to April’s party this evening. Jess, for once, had some money not slated to go directly to paying off her hospital and legal bills.

Six Sentence Sunday: From untitled novella

The reader needs to know something about Jessica, the lady with the icing from a month ago. She’s a singer with a certain look. When she says “that song”, she means “Making Whoopee”. (Catch some of the other Six Sentence Sunday entries here.)

“I might be here as the singer Jessica Gold, but I’m not performing.” She wore a 1942 reproduction dress with a nipped waist thanks to the help of a corset. She counted the shoes as her favorite part of the outfit–rounded toe red suede pumps that made her feel like one of those women the men painted on their war planes. “Plus you don’t have a piano.” Jess once loved singing that song, delighting in the wickedness of the words and the sultry melody. Then, Theo drained her bank accounts, ran up a load of bills on her credit cards, and left town.