Debra Hyde's Panty Drawer

Recently, Debra Hyde wrote to tell me about her debut novel, Inequities. I wrote back to say that I'd love to post about the book, and asked if she might send me a pic of her panties to include on my blog. (I'm such a snoop that I do just adore the sensation of peeking into someone else's drawers.) To my great delight, she agreed.

Debra explains that her new book presents the softer side of female dominance. “Dominant women don’t come in a one-size-fits-all,” she says. “Their temperaments and approaches to kinky sex are as varied as the next person’s.”

Debra comes to erotic romance after a decade of writing short erotic fiction for print anthologies. She counts such varied publishers as Carroll and Graf, Melcher Media, Berkley Heat, Thunder Mountain Press, Cleis Press, Blue Moon Books, Alyson Books, and the Venus Book Club in her credentials. She plans to continue writing thematic short stories and full-length contemporary and fantasy erotic novels.

I was worried I might have offended Debra with my request to see her knickers, but she assured me that I hadn't, saying, "I'm hard to offend, I love zany ideas, and, If you want a peek into my cluttered closet sometime, just ask."

Oh, dear god. Closets. I never thought of closets!

XXX,
Alison

Eliza's Panties

I begged. I pleaded. And Eliza sent me her panties. A picture of her all-time favorite ones. Eliza says:

On the hand sewn labels:

#1
Dwalyne
Hand-Made
Reg US Patent Off

#2
Made of Bur-Mil® Rayon Fabric
- - - - - - - - -
Circa 1940 possibly earlier.
- - - - - - - - -
They feel like silk. They slide and swish.
The French seams guarded fraying over the years.
The three pearl buttons make putting them on and taking them off a careful ritual.

The soft lace and inset applique whisper feminine.

Oh, god, aren't they beautiful?

XXX,
Alison

No Panties Required

So Stephen Elliott clearly likes to mess with my head. He plays with me. Toys with me. Sends me pictures that I'm not allowed to show you. (And you know me—I want to show you everything.) Except now. He has given me approval to post this one. And may I say—wow. I love looking at pictures like this. Taking apart the situation. Or creating a new one in my head.

The position of his body reminds me of the cover of our erotic poetry book (shot by Thomas Roche). Maybe we should put Stephen on the sequel.

You know? I think I'm feeling better.

XXX,
Alison

Cute Panties from Brazil

I'm fighting off:
a) headcold
b) deadline
Am fighting with caffeine and lots of licorice. No, I'm not. I swear. I'm taking good care of myself and only working half as hard as usual. But I wanted to post the candy pics that Tessa sent from Brazil.

And check out the candy post that Isabel did, too! Am I crazy for loving these gummi letters so much? (No wait. Don't answer that.)

Oh, and Stephen Elliott said: your post totally cracked me up. But he didn't give me the release to show him in his knickers. I feel a bit as if I've fallen into that scene in Peter Pan. You know? Where the audience has to clap to keep Tinkerbell alive? What if we all clapped loud enough? Do you think he'd show us his underwear? (God, I hope I'm remembering Peter Pan correctly. I didn't just make that up. Did I? And maybe we wouldn't be clapping. Maybe we'd be slipping dollar bills into his... oh, nevermind.)

All right. Back to the sofa for the moment. Please keep sending me your purple panty pictures. They're making me feel much better.

XXX,
Alison

Extremely Handsome Polymath

Stephen Elliott was supposed to send me pics of his panties. Truly. He sent me pics of himself in his panties, but he chickened out and would not let me post them. So he said (I won't say promised, because he didn't actually promise), but he *said* he would send pics of his panties minus himself. And then he went on a trip. So no pics of Stephen. Or his panties.

Damn, damn, damn.

But Jon Carroll did call him an extremely handsome polymath. Um, I had to look that up:

pol·y·math = a person of great learning in several fields of study; polyhistor.

Unfortunately, it has nothing whatsoever to do with panties! Still, I wish some more boys would send me theirs—pics of their boxer drawer, or their favorite lingerie to wear. Oh, and while we're waiting, I'll post this bit of news. Another one of my novels, Learning to Love It, has been translated to Spanish. I'm in awe of this cover!

XXX,
Alison

My Purple Panties

Someone said I should remind people why I've been posting pics of panties in the first place. Well, Zane was generous enough to send multiple contributor copies of the succulent new collection Purple Panties, which features my brand-new, never-been-published story "Underneath."

I'm giving away two copies of the book. So keep sending me pics—either all jumbled up in your panty drawer, or on you if you *do* wear panties.

XXX,
Alison

Other People's Panties

Oh, I hope I haven't posted this one before. But I have a feeling that Tessa is going to hit me up for a panty-themed story before too long. The piece appeared in my collection Exposed and seems perfectly appropriate for the panty parade!

Other People’s Panties

Other people’s panties turn me on. They always have. Ever since way back when... In college, whenever my pretty, mid-west roommate was in class, I would dig through her lingerie drawer, fingering the seductive items she saved to wear for when her long-distance boyfriend was in town. Sometimes, I’d dress myself up in her favorite pieces: the matching leopard-print set she thought was particularly racy; or the black lace boy-cut shorts with a tank-style top. Other times, I’d just hold them to my naked body, caressing myself with the fine fabrics. I’d take my time to really smell the material before slipping on the garment, winning a whiff of laundry detergent, or perfume, lavender soap, or even the shadowy remaining scent of real skin.

So I guess that’s when it started. My fetish, I mean. Because at some point, wearing Lisa’s clothing wasn’t quite as important to me as sprawling on my tiny twin bed with the items in hand, stroking myself with the various intricate creations, coming while surrounded by panties and bras and camisoles that weren’t mine. That was the key to my pleasure—the panties were someone else’s, not purchased by me. Not meant for me. And the owner had no idea of my obsession with her naughty underthings. No idea at all.

By the end of the year, I had a set routine. Each day, I’d cradle the bikini bottoms she carelessly discarded on the floor by her bed. I’d place them on my face and breathe in while I touched myself, reveling in the ghostly embrace of her, even though I didn’t want her. I just wanted her knickers.

When the school year ended, my fetish remained. But I learned that I wasn’t attached solely to Lisa’s lingerie—any pretty woman’s underthings would work. This is why I’ve never lived on my own, always have had a female roommate. I’ve worked to keep my desires hidden through years of flatmates, rifling undetected through laundry baskets, or top dresser drawers, or in the tangle of sheets at the bottom of a bed. My fantasies have deepened as I fingering the sweet-smelling satin hipsters, cotton bikinis, lace thongs. I have succeeded in getting my fill from my female roommates’ collections, and I have never once told anyone about my fetish.

Not anyone.

Not even Jamie, my lover who swore on her heart that she’d love me through thick and thin, through sickness and health. I didn’t tell her because our commitment ceremony included no line about loving through fetishes, through panty raids, through constant caressing with secreted sexy items. Although I planned to come clean at some point, I found that I couldn’t confess. I told myself this was because I didn’t know what she would say, didn’t know how she might react to my treasured little secret. I pretended I simply couldn’t bare to see disgust on her face.

Truthfully?

That wasn’t it at all. I just didn’t want to stop playing with her panties.

Jamie has perfect lingerie for my needs. She indulges herself in the finest fabrics, the prettiest panties in rainbows of colors. And although I can afford to buy myself the exact same sorts of items, I know from experience that they wouldn’t give me as great a pleasure as wearing Jamie’s. Don’t know why that is, but I can’t change the fact. It’s “other people’s panties” that gets to me.

If I’m in a pinch, I use a G-string or a thong snagged from the laundry basket, and I go for a quickie while she thinks I’m taking a shower. But when my girlfriend is out for the evening, that’s when I truly indulge. I make a whole night out of fucking myself with Jamie’s underthings. First, I go through her dresser drawer, or our hamper, and pick out my pieces for the night. Sometimes, I get off on a pair of her silky blue hipsters. I breathe in at the crotch. I run my tongue over the seam and taste her there. Or I use her creme-colored lace-edged tap panties, which I love to watch her wear, but love even more to peel down her long, lean thighs. Occasionally, I dress myself up entirely in her naughty knickers, down to garters and stockings—but usually, it’s enough to simply surround myself with an outfit or two, turning the mattress into a display of fit for an underwear catalog, writhing around in all of her lingerie, basking in the sea of her scent and her seductive taste.

This is all I’ve done, all I’ve ever needed, that is until last night.

Jamie had plans to be out for the evening. As soon as I heard the front door close, I headed down to the bathroom. But this time, I found a surprise when I opened the hamper. Instead of her various clothing items strewn willy-nilly in the basket, they were neatly folded, with a red satin ribbon wrapping them up. I heard a noise behind me, and when I turned around, there was Jamie, waiting, a smile on her face. I didn’t know what to say...

“I think they’re your favorites,” she grinned.

My hand fluttered over the blue satin, the soft pink lace, the black see-through thong.

“Yeah,” I nodded. She was right.

“So take them out. Let me watch. I want to see what you do with them.”

“How—” I started.

“Just do it, baby. I want to see.”

Trembling, I brought the bound package of my treasured items to the bedroom. Then I stripped and started. Jamie stood across the room, watching. At first, I was extremely aware of her staring at me, and I felt a prickle run through my body at the thought of being on display. But then, I started to lose myself in the pleasure that always works through my body. I tuned everything out by the feel of the fabrics and the secret smell of Jamie’s own scent embedded into the fine lingerie. I didn’t even notice when she came closer and sat on the bed. Didn’t tune into her until she finally moved right next to me, and she took the pieces from me and slowly rubbed them over my body. Everywhere I wanted her to.

And when I came, I whispered, “I didn’t know you knew.”

I looked at Jamie, into her lavender-blue eyes, at her flushed pink cheeks, and I saw how close she was to coming herself. This was as exciting for her as it was for me—I realized that in a heartbeat—the she purred back at me, “Turned me on,” she said, “when I figured out what you were doing. It made me wet to know that my panties made you wet....”

I guess sometimes you really don’t know how another person feels...until you walk a mile—or fuck awhile—in their panties.

XXX,
Alison

P.S. Don't forget: Get 10% off any order at Yandy Lingerie. The coupon code is: alisontyler. At the moment, there is no expiration date!

Wish List Item #1

No, not the legs—the stockings. Crushed velvet thigh-high stockings. I am in lust. I know we're talking about panties, but I have to say, these are #1 on my list!

To see my #2 and #3 items, just click here and here. What's sexier than Ruffle Rhumba Hot Pants? In a word—not that much.

XXX,
Alison

Alison's Underwear

Donna's "story research" panty drawer made me want to take pictures of mine. I only wish I were a little more organized. You can see my blue wig, and corset, and pajamas... But how am I going to find space for all of the new panties I want to buy from Yandy?

I'm going to post my Yandy wish list in a little while.
XXX,
Alison

Donna's Panties

Donna George Storey says: Thank you for an interesting morning! A quick photo session and I have two different pics for you. The first needs no explanation, the second is my "story research" panty drawer.


The corset was used for research in "Fezziwig's Balls" (Naughty or Nice). The black Hello Kitty thong appears in "Just Words" (Best Women's Erotica 2007). The "Antique Blue Movies" video was an inspiration for such historical stories as "To Dance at the Fair" (Dirty Girls). The thigh-hi's appear in too many stories to name, but isn't it indicative of my orderly mind to have them arranged so neatly?

*****
If you want to see Donna in much more than her panties, help celebrate the release of her Neon novel, Amorous Woman, in the US. Donna will be reading at Booksmith in San Francisco (1644 Haight Street) on June 17 at 7pm where she will be joined by Liza Dalby, who was the only American to work as a geisha in Kyoto.

XXX,
Alison

P.S. How many other interesting mornings should I take credit for?

Raven has a stripper pole

Lady Raven says: So I'm being coy...sending only a small snippet of my stash of skivvies.

And while these aren't technically panties, I wondered if a pict of my stripper shorts and pole would suffice.



I've just been singing this all afternoon: "Raven has a stripper pole. Raven has a stripper pole." I'm a little disappointed, of course, that the photo is of the cute shorts minus what I'm quite sure is a cute Lady Raven, but I'll learn to live with my dismay. I'll simply drown my sorrows at Yandy!

XXX,
Alison

Naked Chicks on Alison's Site

Look! Isabel Kerr has been immortalized on Naked Chicks on Post-It Notes!


XXX,
Alison

P.S. Don't forget: Get 10% off any order at Yandy Lingerie. The coupon code is: alisontyler. At the moment, there is no expiration date!

Take Off Your Panties

...and buy some new ones!

I'm still watching the Panty Parade unfold—so please please please keep sending me more pictures of your awesome undies. But I wanted to share this lovely bit of news. On a whim, I wrote to Yandy Lingerie (one of my favorite sites), and told them how interested in knickers you all are. And they have deliciously agreed to give a coupon to my readers! This code will give visitors 10% off any order at Yandy Lingerie. The coupon code is: alisontyler. At the moment, there is no expiration date!

Go look at their Panties, Thongs, Lingerie, and G-Strings.

XXX,
Alison

P.S. This is not an advertisement—and I am not an affiliate. I do not get a kick-back from any sales, but (you know me) I would like to see which panties you buy!

A Pansy of Purple Panties

Sera says: I could have sworn I only collected panties in black, white, cream, and gray, but it seems I have, unnoticed to myself, branched out into actual colors in the last year or two. A purple and red pair jumped out at me when I was collecting slips and scraps for their closeups.

As for a panty drawer, I'm afraid it's been years since I had a proper dresser. I've been traveling so much lately that the panties live in my luggage or in piles of clean or dirty laundry around my flat when I'm home. My cats take advantage of piles of clothes to curl up in, though, so I couldn't help but send you pictures of panties and pussies, cliche as it is.


This has been sooo fun . . .

PS Also enclosing a panty-only picture, to protect my pussies' privacy, if you judge that wise.

****

I'm laughing too hard to type coherently.

XXX,
AT

Ooooh! Look at Emerald's Panties!

Emerald says:

I was really just going to be an observer for this one, but you seem to be having so much fun I thought I'd be a sport...and send you a picture (lol). I noticed as I was doing this I don't seem to have any purple, amazingly enough. All of these have matching bras, and yes (was it Tessa who asked?), I do like to match -- which is funny because I tend to do the opposite with clothes I wear on the outside, almost always mixing and matching.

I love that these pictures keep popping up in my inbox. And you wouldn't believe how many people are writing to me behind the scenes to say how much they're enjoying the panty parade! (Apologies to people like Kristina Lloyd who don't so much like the word "panties." What else could I say? The Knicker Brigade?

XXX,
Alison

Ankle Deep in Sommer's Panties

Sommer did a tally. She has 59 pairs. I'm in awe.

XXX,
Alison

Two new panty pics

The first picture is really only of the drawer that some of my panties are in. Some happen to reside in a 'Little Red Riding Hood' type basket that also holds dress up clothes...Really only the matchy-matchy sets reside in the basket but they happen to be the more interesting barely-there underthings.... There are a few pairs of purple panties but that also depends on your definition of purple....oh, well, it fits my definition....as does the petticoat that's a lot of fun to wear with leggings...especially in such a staid city as I live in...giggles...it's fun to shock the older people...but never did I think that I'd be sending pictures of my panties to an author I'm addicted to and I've never met, but damn....we must love you Alison.

~Megumi (on certain days), Nyx (on others). The character changes with the clothes...a lolli (Lolita), a goth, and, well, whatever seems like fun that day, maybe a '50s housedress and pearls or a school girl, anything goes.

Oooh, I'm in heaven. I swear to god. Love these!

XXX,
Alison

Wicked

Kelly says: Only one pair of purple panties in the bunch. lol Love being a voyeur into other people's knicker drawers though.

I would say that shopping for panties is almost as fun as shopping for shoes or books! The colours and styles, so much to choose from... and bras and corsets and stockings.... oh my! lol

I love your blog. You got me hooked last year with your mini-biography and I hope that someday we'll be able to read the rest of the story. Either online or published in a novel. ;)

Oh, my. I don't know where to start on these. I covet the turquoise and leopard-print and the pink ruffles. I think I own the snakeskin ones! But the red and black Wicked ones? Damn. I want them.

XXX,
AT

Pussy Panties

Neve Black says: Attached is my contribution to the "show your favorite panties" cause.

The attached picture is my favorite pair of cheetah print thongs, with pink trim and a pink bow; appropriately placed in front, like a package one would open, I suppose. I decided to expose them by wrapping them around the sign that I have hanging by the back door (not kidding) entrance to my home.
Great idea. This was fun, Alison. ;-)

XXX,
AT

Dakota Really Needs New Panties

Leave it to Dakota Rebel...she really needs some new ones. At least, that's what she says. But I'm getting a bit of a charge imagining her running around commando. You know what I mean?

XXX,
Alison

Feeding your appetite for secrets

From Tessa: Feeding your appetite for secrets, here I whisper some of my dilemmas. Every time I travel I find myself having the hardest time making up my mind. What colors, how many pairs, which styles, to go with what?...

Hmmm, life sucks in such girlish ways sometimes.

XXX,
Tessa

P.S. Oh, bonus track: an old habit is buying two of each pair, sometimes just identical twins, sometimes same pattern, different cut. And here's the final existential doubt: to wear or not to wear with the corresponding bra? That's the question.

So what do you all think? To match or not to match?

XXX,
Alison

Silk Boxers

I sent you a picture of my very sexy husband's boxers. The silk ones are some that I bought for him. He doesn't love them so much for him, but that makes them even more special, because when he DOES wear them, I know he's wearing them just for me.

But, while we're talking about boxers, can someone explain the button?

*beam*
kiki

Pinch Me

Kristina Lloyd sent a picture of her knickers! Let's all repeat that slowly together, shall we? "Kristina Lloyd sent a picture of her knickers!"

I didn't tease her about the fact that she never, ever would take a picture. I didn't goad or taunt or cajole. I was quiet as a little mousey and in slipped this email:

Obviously, they are knickers, not panties. And obviously, I will regret this in the morning.

The 'oral fixation' knickers are from the time I quit smoking. I had an underwear gift set which you could write on and, without cigarettes, I needed stuff to occupy my hands. (Quit sniggering.) I have a vest-top saying 'smoking kills.' They're not exactly first-date knickers.

No idea how that nasty little bit of rope got in on the pic.

KLx

Pinch me. I must be dreaming.

XXX,
Alison

Allison's Wonderland

Allison Wonderland—who used her panties to spell the word PANTIES, how fucking cool is that?—says: Attached is a picture of my panties (I feel so weird typing that, lol), as requested in your blog entry.

Hmmm. I didn't feel weird at all asking people for pics of their panties. Should I have? Now, I'm all a flutter.

XXX,
Alison

P.S. Do I not have you on my blogroll? Should I? Drop me a note...

Equal Opportunity Smutster

Just cause I keep asking for "panties," doesn't mean I'm excluding the boys! Jeremy Edwards to the rescue! JE says: I'd be honored if you included the pic in your underwear gallery.

Come on, all you handsome hunks. Where are your panty pics?

XXX,
Alison

Scantily Pantily

EllaRegina says: Not an underwear drawer pic nor an inhabited pair but a *life-size* scan of my favorite underpants. Shrink to fit, so to speak. If I were in them you'd see that they are made of a transparent gossamer-like nylon. The polka dots appear to float on bare skin as the background is more or less my flesh color.

A gift from my pal Minnie Mouse. I inherited her "intimates" when she agreed to go commando after Mickey M. said he wanted nothing to stand (or sit) in the way of her tail.

You should get the Japanese schoolgirls in on this one. They have those vending machines, you know.

ScantyPantily yours,

EllaRegina

Panties from the Smut Goddess

Sommer says: I thought I had two pair of purple. I had six. So, I had estimated that I had thirty pair of panties... I guess it's more like ninety. I am a collector!

Hop over to Sommer's blog to see more pics of her panties (although no pics of herself in her panties, alas).

XXX,
Alison

Isabel, You Dirty Girl

I'll start the panty kick-off with Isabel Kerr, who said: We are such whores for you, Alison. Why does that give me a delicious little shiver from the nape of my neck all the way to my, um, knickers? She added in postscript: There's a bra to match, natch. But we'll save that for another post!

More delicious panties—with and without models—coming shortly.

XXX,
Alison

P.S. Don't her legs seem endless? You could start at the toes and kiss your way up for hours.

My Panty Drawer Overfloweth...

...and so does my inbox. Was without internet for nearly a day (The Horror! The Horror!), and I'm overwhelmed with all of the lovely photos that readers sent to me. I will definitely have to come up with more prizes than the Purple Panties book alone. The picture above is a quickie I took of my dresser drawer, but I still plan to reveal my own purple panties shortly. Now prepare yourself. Let the panty parade begin...

XXX,
Alison

Send Me Your Panties, Please

Seriously. I want your panties. At least, I want pictures of your panties! Zane was generous enough to send multiple contributor copies of the succulent new collection Purple Panties, which features my brand-new, never-been-published story "Underneath."

I will give away one—maybe two—copies of the book. But you need to send me pics of your panties. Either all jumbled up in your panty drawer. Or on you while you wear a Fedora and read a copy of A Is for Amour (*ahem* Jeremy).

Make my week. Send me panties! And I promise, I will take my own pic of purple panties to put up posthaste!

XXX,
Alison

P.S. I was part of a panty chain letter one time. Where you bought panties and sent them to the first person on the list, then added your name to the bottom. I ended up with seven pairs of spanking-new panties—from a Calvin Klein thong to a pair that played music!

International Erotica

Recently, Trollop with a Laptop has been getting nods from bloggers in other countries. Check out these ones: Vodka & Cioccolato from Italy, Sex & the Holy City from Jerusalem, and Libertinario from Spain. How cool is that?

Seems like the perfect time to share that The Happy Birthday Book of Erotica has recently been translated to Spanish! The new title is Pide un deseo. One eagle-eyed contributor found a write-up about the book already!

XXX,
Alison

P.S. To the Happy Birthday Contributors: I don't have any additional news about the foreign sale—but as soon as I receive information from Cleis, I'll share all. I promise!

Sommer's Dirty Pix

I have mailed "Is College Bad for Girls?" posters to everyone who sent me an address.

Sommer responded with a pic of the poster framed!
Has anyone else put up the posters?

Care to share?

XXX,
Alison

Winner, Winner, Winner

You know that feeling where you are walking through tar or quicksand? Where you can't move forward. That's me against my deadlines right now.

I mean, I wanted to write about 16 different things yesterday—and I failed totally. What did I manage to accomplish? Um, I talked on the phone a bit. I bragged about our books by taking out a few advertisements on blogs I admire.

So I’m behind on announcing a winner for the Big Box o’Porn. Congratulations to Katie! Please send your mailing info to msalisontyler at yahoo dot com. And actually, would all contributors to the fantasy post please get in touch with me. I have a private offer for you.

Be back shortly! I have a new contest to start—

XXX,
Alison

P.S. Tessa, I’m fine!

S is for Sugarbutch

Look! We advertised our sultry new anthology Lipstick on Her Collar on Sugarbutch's site. I think the book looks marvelous!

XXX,
Alison

E is for Exciting

Ta very much to Kristina the Great for scanning this review in Forum UK. I'm chuffed to bits!

XXX,
Alison

P.S. I have a slew of info to post today. Back in a mo'.

Why do these people look so happy?

Because:

a) They just found out that they're in Rachel Kramer Bussel's new twin books—Tasting Him & Tasting Her.
b) They've just been tasted.

I'm going with b). But I'm personally happy about a).

XXX,
Alison

Your Favorite Fantasy

Here's a bite more of my story from Dirty Girls. Have you bought the book yet? You should! There are 27 stories in this luscious collection, each more deliciously sexy than the next.

Like a Good Girl (continued)

When I got home, Jesse was waiting for me.

“So you’ve never been to a club?”

“Sure, I have,” I told him. I’d been to clubs since freshman year college. Coconut Teasers. The Whiskey. The Roxy.

“A club-club,” he demanded. “A bondage club.”

I shook my head.

“Great,” he said, once again placing his hand on the hollow of my throat, applying just enough pressure that the weight made it difficult for me to swallow. He pulled me close to him, his body hard against mine. “You’re going to be on display tonight,” he whispered, and now I sucked in my breath, visualizing the scene as he described it. “But don’t worry, baby, it’ll just be you and me, and 200 of our closest friends.” He faced me straight on then, moving his hand up my throat to tilt my face up towards his. “You’re going to have to behave right tonight, Cody,” he said, in that soft voice, the one I found most menacing.

“I know it’s going to be tough for you. But I want you to try really hard for me. Can you do that?”

I nodded and he immediately slapped my face, catching me off balance, then gripped my arms and stood me steadily before him again. The look in his dark eyes was fierce. “Can you?” he asked again, more menacing than ever.

“Yes, Sir—“ I whispered.

“Better,” he nodded. “That’s better.”

***

Jesse had been out at auditions for the first part of the day, and then had gone to the gym. He told me to get ready while he took a shower. But I didn’t follow his command. Instead, I sat in the living room with a glass of Jack, flipping the channels on the TV with the sound muted, not seeing a thing. My cheek stung from where Jesse had slapped me, and I had one hand against the side of my face, my fingers tripping up and down over the hot spot.

The JD in my glass got lower as the final rays of sunlight faded from the room, but I didn’t get up to turn on a light or refill my drink. When Jesse finally entered the room, clad in black, he practically disappeared into the gloom. I felt him staring at me, but I didn’t turn to face him. The glow of the silent TV was the only light.

Without a word, Jesse sat at my side. He took the remote from my hand and set it on the coffee table. I’d landed on some old black-and=white movie, and I stared at the screen rather than turn to face Jesse.

“You’re scared.”

I nodded. Tears were already streaming my face. I wasn’t just scared. I was terrified.

He took my hand down from my cheek and traced the tracks from my silent tears.

“We won’t go tonight.”

Now, I looked at him, at the brightness in his dark eyes, at the serious look on his striking face. I wondered why he was taking so much time with me. I’d only known him a short period, but I’d thought I had nailed him. A man who got what he wanted and moved on. Had he simply not finished with me? Or did he see something in me that held his interest a bit longer?

I know my eyes were begging when I stared at him. I wanted to please him, but my whole body was shaking.

“We’ll get there,” he said, nodding, more to himself than to me. “Don’t worry, Cody. We’ll get there.”

Now the tears came faster. I was letting him down. Visions of what he’d promised me flickered through my mind. Jesse displaying me. Cropping me in front of an audience. Hurting me. And while I wanted every single image that he’d promised, I was so worried that I’d let him down, fail him in some way, embarrass him.

“You make me want to move fast,” he said, now bringing me up so that my legs were over his lap, cradled in a safe embrace.

“You make me want to do everything at once.” Again, I felt as if he were speaking more to himself than to me, as if explaining the situation out loud was helping him to process how we both were feeling. “But that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook tonight.”

Had I started to relax? Had I let the whiskey work through me, the fire of it calming me?

“I promised you I’d take care of you tonight. I don’t ever go back on my promises, Cody. Do you understand that?”

I hadn’t spoken in so long that my voice was hoarse. “Yes, Jesse.”

XXX,
Alison

P.S. Please, please, um, please... share more of your turn-ons here. I will announce the winner of the big box o' porn tomorrow!

Underwater

So it's still May. Is your hand tired yet? Are your fingers sore? Can you walk without chafing? I'm still underwater with deadlines. You know, someone gave me grief for that image the other day. I have no idea why. This is exactly how I feel when I am working on multiple projects. As if I have taken a deep breath of air and then pushed off under the aqua water of the swimming pool at my high school. I am underwater, going the length of the pool as fast as I can.

In fact, I've gotten quite a lot of grief this week. Which is why my "What Fresh Hell Is This?" ring is residing permanently on my middle finger. Some hell is to be expected, of course. I mean, just look at what happens to Violet Blue when she writes her articles for the SF Chronicle. She'll get 500+ comments on one of her pieces—some flat-out personal attacks. For no reason I can fathom.

But other hell? My karma must be tipped on its side right now. I've been drawing writers to me like, like... I'm not going to say flies to honey. (Okay, I just said it. But I don't mean it.) I've been drawing writers to me as if I'm a box of Sweet Tarts and Sommer is close enough to lick me all over. Because in the three days, I've gotten requests to:

* read five unsolicited stories—just to critique and give a little advice, if I don't mind.
* edit a children's manuscript
* explain how independent publishing works (from the bottom up, you know, I'm sure it won't take more than an hour)
* proof a first novel
* consult about the difference between erotica and romance with a writer who is offended by the word "smut"
* walk a new writer through myspace, facebook, blogging and all the other things "kids are doing these days"
* read an unpublished collection of short erotica and tell the author why it keeps getting rejected

I'm not making these up. I know that some writers who are more professional than I am would simply put a dollar amount on each request and see if the writers want to pony up. I can't. Several of these requests have come through friends—friends of friends, friends of family—others have simply fallen into my email or P.O. Box. The final was sent by one of my publishers—forwarded to me from her—and it was sent to her via a mobile phone.

My personal belief is that there is a place for every writer. Now that desktop publishing is so advanced, writers can become their own publishers with simply a push of a few buttons. And I've banged on often enough about the fact that many of the books I love seemed almost to have been created with me in mind. (I mean, I literally slept with S. E. Hinton's Tex for years.) I truly think each writer has an audience somewhere.

But I'm so busy—I can barely keep up with solicited manuscripts at this point. For someone to send five unsolicted stories attached to an email is so naive I have a difficult time knowing exactly how to respond. (I just say, Sorry. Keep a lookout for my calls on ERWA.)

Okay, enough ranting.

I'm about to post the next part of my story...

XXX,
Alison

A Thank You from Italy

Or should I say "grazzi"?

The ABC letters arrived safely in Tuscany! How cool is that? And don't you just love Isabel Kerr's "Informazioni personali"?

Erotic fiction author, travel oriented creative non-fiction writer, poet, clothing designer, wife, mom, innkeeper, sensualist, dilettante.

XXX,
Alison

P.S. Please keep posting your fantasies! I'm using these little snippets as rewards as I stumble towards my current finish line—I mean, deadline.

Keep Me Coming

I mean, keep the fantasies coming here. I'm loving these little sex bites. Here is the next part of my story from Dirty Girls:

Now, I lowered my eyes as a shudder worked through me. The welts and marks from my most recent caning were only slowly fading. Jesse admired his handiwork for a moment before pulling my hips back against hard against him. I didn’t even think to resist—simply gave myself over to him as he started to fuck me, smoothly, evenly, sliding his cock in and out at a hypnotic pace.

“You’ll be at the counter, helping people, and thinking about how sweetly I fucked you this morning, and how hard I’m going to fuck you tonight.”

And now my breath caught, because Jesse understood. Yes, I could come from being taken this way, but only if he dirty talked to me. “Normal” sex was never enough. “We’re going out,” he continued, slipping his hands up under my dress now and tugging my bra down to reveal my breasts. He twisted my nipples as he spoke. “You and me. We’re going to a special place I know. And they have a dress code, too, just like your fancy, high-end salon. But in this case it’s Dresses optional. Collars mandatory.”

He sped up the rhythm now, pinching my nipples fiercely as he fucked me. “So you think about that, Cody, while all the newness of your job makes you feel dizzy and off balance. You think that tonight, I’m going to clear everything up for you.”

And then