March 02, 2008
The Only Girl I Want to Fuck
Every so often, I receive a nice random fan letter. This is clearly one of the perks of the job. As someone who's written her share of fan mail, I adore finding similar missives in my own in box, especially letters like this:
That's right, I'm a guy and I loved your book "Tiffany Twisted." I found it in a used bookstore and the cover image caught my eye. The storyline sounded intriguing so I took it home. I finished reading it this morning and I've gotta say I am impressed. Your sex scenes were fantastically detailed and didn't seem written for the sake of getting someone off (though they absolutely could).
Anyway, I thought I'd drop you a line and say well done. I'd actually like to see another body-switching book from you. I'm a fan of the genre and your telling and characters were completely believable. Any plans for another one?
Tiffany Twisted is my personal favorite novel to date. The idea for the book came to me years ago when I wished I could spend a week in my boyfriend's body so that I could fix his fucked-up life. Writing this novel was a blast, and I would absolutely love to do a sequel. Here is a little excerpt from a place in the book after Tiffany and her boyfriend Kurt have switched bodies:
Mari-Beth walked into the office looking like a model from Vogue. No, that wasn’t right. Cosmo. One of the cheezy pin-up style girls, in a crocheted sweater over a tight spaghetti-strap tank top and a form-fitting mini skirt. Who dressed like that to go to work? The answer was given to Tiffany almost immediately: she did. In walked Kurt, dressed almost identically to his assistant. Was this really what he thought girls should dress like? Tiffany looked back and forth between the two “women.” She actually thought like that— “women” in quotes when she saw Kurt. Because she knew he wasn’t one, but that was such a strange feeling.
Clearly, he’d taken his fashion cues from his nubile assistant, and just as clearly, Mari-Beth was charmed with the transformation.
“Oh, my god,” she gushed, “Tiffany! I just adore your outfit.”
Of course, she did. It was almost identical to the one she had on. Kurt had tramped himself out in a tight red skirt, pairing that with a black tank top and a semi-sheer jacket. Where had he gotten those clothes? Not in her closet. She shook her head. They were from her closet! From a Halloween costume she’d put together several years before when she’d gone as a naughty devil.
“What are you doing here?” she asked when Mari-Beth had run out of compliments.
“I want to show you something.”
“Your god-awful taste?”
Kurt looked hurt. “You always say nice things to Mari-Beth about her clothes. I thought—”
“You’re crazy. I think she looks like a whore.”
Kurt’s eyes went big. “But—”
“Women are phony, Kurt. Get used to it.”
Kurt seemed to shrug this off as information he wasn’t interested in processing. Instead, he flipped the lock on the office door and began to undress.
“Really—” Tiffany began. “I’ve got work. Mari-Beth just told me that I have a meeting.... You said I wouldn’t have to deal with one. I’ve been going through all of your files, trying to figure out what I’m supposed to be doing.”
“Don’t worry. Carly will run the show. You just nod and smile and kiss her ass.”
She wrinkled her nose. The image wasn’t pleasing. Carly was built like a linebacker. “Regardless, I have to be there.”
“They never start on time,” Kurt assured her.
“Maybe you just never get there on time.”
He shook his head. “Everyone’s always late around here. All of the staff have artistic temperaments. We’ve got at least twenty minutes.”
“Twenty minutes for what?” What was he doing at the office, anyway? Did he actually think she was going to have sex with him here? She was still mired in the most basic details of keeping his work life on track. Sex was the last thing on her mind. At least, it was until Kurt began to slide up the hem of his skirt. Her cock, apparently sensing the mere possibility of impending pleasure, hardened fervently against her inner thigh.
“Here?” she was mortified. What if Mari-Beth came in? Or Kurt’s boss? How would she recover?
“I’ve always wanted to, Tiffany. You’re the one who has a problem with the idea.”
“No buts about it. I want to do it on my desk.”
Tiffany hesitated. Then shrugged. Why not? What were her fears about the situation? Being caught. That was the only one. Being found out. But things like that seemed so trivial now in comparison to what she and Kurt were going through. Without a word, she pushed the few papers on her desk aside. They fluttered gently down onto the floor. Then, with a grin, she lifted Kurt onto the desk.
God, she loved how strong she was in this body. Lifting him previously would have been impossible. The only time she’d mastered the task was when they’d messed around in a hotel pool while on vacation, the clear turquoise water making him almost weightless in her arms. Quickly, he’d reversed the position, slipping her tangerine bikini bottoms inside and taking advantage of the fact that they were the only couple craving a dip after midnight.
Now, she sat him on the edge of the desk and spread his legs, her body slipping easily between his open thighs. Maybe this outfit wasn’t totally awful. She ran her fingers along the jacket, and slowly massaged Kurt’s arms through the thin fabric. As she began to kiss him, Kurt sighed and gripped onto her hair, pulling her even tighter against him.
Tiffany was at full-mast now. All thoughts of making it to the meeting on time had evaporated. She began to move down Kurt’s body, kissing into the hollow of his neck, breathing in an unfamiliar fragrance. Tiffany always wore Coco Chanel, had since college. But what was this? She breathed in deeper. Poison. The new one. She recognized the scent from one of her magazine inserts. Was that where Kurt had gotten it? Had he been culling through her ladies’ magazines, lifting out the different pretty fragrances he wanted to try?
The concept delighted her, but before she could ask, Kurt spoke up.
“Tell me about your trainer,” he said, and she pulled back.
“What do you mean?” Was that his idea of sweet talk?
“Does he turn you on, Tiffany?”
She gazed at him, and she saw what jealousy looked like echoed back from her own face. “You’ve got to be kidding. I don’t go for muscle men.” No, that didn’t come out right. Kurt looked even more upset. “Not that you aren’t strong,” she amended quickly. “But Rolf is a rock. All he wants to talk about is obliques and traps and curls and reps. I work out with him because he’s good.”
“That’s what the women in your locker room said.”
Tiffany’s eyes widened. It hadn’t occurred to her that Kurt would need to venture into the girls’ dressing room. She didn’t know why, but when these sorts of things came up, she found herself surprised every time. But she only said, “Good in what way?”
“Apparently, in bed—”
“Not with me, though.”
He stared at her.
“Come on, Kurt.” She looked down at her grandfather’s watch. In Kurt’s body, the watch suited her more. She knew that Kurt really should have been the one to wear it, but she felt naked without the timepiece on her wrist. “We only have a few minutes. I thought you wanted to play.”
“I only need a little reassurance. That’s all,” Kurt said, and as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he blanched. He sounded just like Tiffany.
“Don’t worry,” she grinned at him, feeling her hard-on throb once more against her leg. “You’re the only girl I want to fuck.”
P.S. I'm going to search through my porn closet in a moment for some novels to give away. I'm sure I have extras of something!