Friday, November 29, 2013

BLACK FRIDAY FAN FIC (OR SHOULD I SAY SLASH?)

Wow. I've been away for too long, but with one thing or another, life gets in the way and when you find out that your thumbs have been in all the wrong places, you awake from that digit-induced slumber and get back on track. TMI?

I'm a big fan of Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum Series. I love that goofy bounty hunter girl. Nevertheless, I love the men in her life a lot more (double wink) and as a writer of Man on Man love, shouldn't the next logical step be to write something naughty about Carlos Mañoso (aka Ranger) and Joseph Morelli?

Lamentably, I killed Stephanie because, frankly, I couldn't see any other way of putting the two hunks together without being cheating bastards, and that is so not who they are. They love that girl in their own crazy ways, and I used that untimely demise to launch them into each other's arms. And mouths, and other body parts, of course.

And since there is not good writing without hot visuals I decided to use Dionisio Heiderscheid  (better known as D.O. in the  porn world) as inspiration for Ranger, and Lance Parker (American soccer player) for Morelli.



Let me just say—for the erotic record—that the word mañoso in Spanish means among other things: clever, ingenious, crafty, cunning, and even trickster.


And so, without further ado, I give you the first chapter of Mañoso's Hands.


1. Tea vs. Coffee

“You know you are supposed to look at my ass.”

“Yeah, but you aren’t a native girl.”

“I still have a great ass.”

“True.”

Since Morelli woke up first, he was to serve the ceremonial tea, and the contraption was designed in a way where you had to rest your body almost on top of it, making inevitable to show your butt.

His morning wood return in full force after realizing Ranger agreed he had a great ass.
The previous night, their captors had showed them a video with the sick fantasy they were to reenact this morning if they didn’t want to be killed after being sodomized with painful-looking devices. Morelli thought it could be worse. At least, Ranger was a handsome guy.

As he offered the tea, Ranger should have fondled him like the man did the girl in the video. “What are you waiting for?”

“I’m supposed to get you excited, but you already are.” The amusement in Ranger’s tone didn’t escape Morelli.

The curved outline of his cock was clearly visible through the flimsy material around his waist, fighting to go upward. Almost naked was worse than complete nudity.

“Oh shit.”

Morelli awoke with a start.

“Are you all right?” Ranger sounded fully awake.

This wasn’t the first time he’d had that sort of dream about Ranger. They were getting more elaborated each night. He should have known better than to come with Ranger in this camping trip to the Pine Barrens. Yeah, it was the manly way to grieve after Stark Street had finally caught up with Stephanie, and she’d died in the middle of the combat zone while stalking one of her FTA’s. The responsible were in jail, but that was little to no comfort. They hadn’t known how to deal with the pain for the last month, until Ranger came out with this idea.

The leathery sensation of Grandma Mazur’s hands as Morelli patted them, while she cried inconsolably, was fuel for his own sadness. He didn’t like old ladies crying, and even his own grandmother, Bella, who never really liked Stephanie, had cried at the jam-packed funeral. Ranger had been there too, not crying but stoic, surrounded by his Merry men. Still, Morelli caught a rare moment of weakness when Ranger took his shades off; he had watery eyes.

“Joe?”

A shudder ran through him. It was the second time Ranger had called him by his nickname. The first was fogged and almost a memory of torture.

“You sick?”

“No. Just a bad dream. I’m having lot of those lately.” He turned to look at Ranger in the sleeping back next to him.

“I know what you mean. Been having, not bad but weird dreams too.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Was it wrong Morelli was hoping Ranger’s dreams were like his?

“Nope.”

“Cool.” Morelli reassumed a horizontal position and stared at the tent’s roof. He was not going be able to sleep again, though.  “There’s light outside. I’d better start the coffee.”

“It’s your turn anyway.”

“Yeah.”

It was hard to tie his boots with his hard-on chafing in his jeans. Nevertheless, he managed and exited the confined space. He started their breakfast, expecting to do better than Ranger the previous day. The glacial morning breeze helped with his erection like a really cold shower.

The aroma of coffee brought Ranger out of the tent.

-0-

“Taste me.”

“Huh?”

“Ranger, let Morelli taste me from your lips.”

“Babe.”

“It’s my birthday, and you guys promised to do whatever I asked.”

“I think this is too much.” Morelli almost grunted.

Certainly, this was taking that promise too far.

“I’m ready to get out of this bed and leave you two hard and wanting. How about that?”

Ranger and Morelli looked at each other. Ranger turned to Stephanie, “Just the one kiss.”

“Yes. But not a half-assed kiss. I wanna see lots of tongue and enthusiasm.”

Ranger’s face neared Morelli’s. “We’ll never speak about this. Deal?”

“You bet your ass my lips are sealed.”

“After the kiss.” Stephanie giggled as she pulled Morelli and Ranger’s faces together, using her calves over the back of their necks.

“Let’s do this.” Morelli murmured before his lips touched Ranger’s.

Ranger wasn’t prepared to let Morelli dominate the kissing as if he couldn’t live if he didn’t retrieve the every last molecule of Stephanie’s flavor from within Ranger’s mouth. Coming to his senses, Ranger fought back and grabbed Morelli, one hand on his arm and the other pulling Morelli’s nape forcibly, regaining control of the situation, while Stephanie rubbed their cocks with her feet.

He didn’t know when he’d closed his eyes, but now that he opened them, he saw Morelli’s long dark lashes, his tight shut eyes, the perfect curve of his thick eyebrows. He always considered himself man enough, secure of his sexuality enough, to recognize when another guy was attractive.  But he never expected to find Morelli’s features so compelling, especially not in the middle of a—technically—forced kiss.

“Joe.” He exhaled when they didn’t have another option than to separate if they wanted to breathe. Stephanie’s voice in the background, saying how hot they looked together was almost anticlimactic.

“You missing her?”

Morelli’s grave voice trespassed on the fortress of time and distance, bringing Ranger back to reality, to the middle of the Barrens, so close and yet so far from civilization.

“Un-huh,” He hummed noncommittally. Avoiding Morelli’s eyes, he picked up the kettle and poured coffee into his mug. “But it’s getting easier every day. Thanks for doing this.”

“We’re helping each other. I guess, it’s something she’d have liked.”

“True.” Ranger felt strong enough to look into those dark eyes, darker than his own and strangely hypnotic.  “Does this mean we’re becoming closer?”

Morelli seemed puzzled for a moment, then gave him a sinister grin. “I think we’re closer since the night I tasted her from your lips.”

Ranger thanked everything sacred for his poker face. “That’s unmentionable.”

But unforgettable.

“In all honesty, I don’t mention it, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately.”

“Why?”

Determination surged on Morelli’s stubbly face. “We should do it again.”

“Neither of us is gay.”

“So?”

That wasn’t the answer Ranger had expected. Perhaps Morelli was on the same page, fighting with the same unexpected attraction. Those lips tempted him like not many things had tempted Ranger in his life. “Why the fuck no?”

“That’s what I’m talking about.” Morelli started to move from his log toward Ranger’s.

“Stay where you are.” Ranger put his mug down, ate the short distance and grabbed Morelli’s neck, straddling the log. He started the kiss with open eyes, but as Morelli closed his, he did the same, surrendering to their need.


I'll post the following chapters here and on Goodreads. Enjoy.


Saturday, May 4, 2013

ISABEL, THE RED SHIRT AND NEW FRIENDS



Isabel Allende came to Nashville with a rainstorm forecast and a little under the weather herself. Thanks to that tiny physical inconvenience there were no hugs, no pictures with the author and the book signing was restricted to swift pen strokes. Nevertheless, these things didn’t tarnish the event because Isabel Allende’s charisma is a force of nature.

Let me tell you a bit of why I love Isabel Allende so much, before I enter into the presentation at the Nashville Public Library. There are two very special instances in my life where her books have played an interesting role. The first involves her amazing Paula, which I lend to the boyfriend of my ex-boyfriend (yeah, complicated or very French, you decide), and six months after their separation he used it to reappear in my life and stay in it for five wonderful years until our innate machismo got the best of us. Chinese Zodiac Warning: Monkeys and Roosters --good friends, bad lovers.

The second came when I decided to move to the United States with the blessing of the gods and the disappointment of my family. As I distributed my books among my friends I couldn’t part with Eva Luna; becoming thus, the only book I brought from my homeland. Why this particular book? Well, Eva tells stories, and I see some of her in myself, hence its expatriation. I think I should better say its migration from the oppressive heat of the tropics, where there is only rain and sun to the land of four seasons in the middle of the Bible Belt. (Eva rolls her eyes.)

So the adventure began with hubby leaving me in front of the Nashville Public Library (NPL), under an impertinent drizzle, and disappearing in search of a Mother’s Day gift. No better place than downtown to get Mamma a spiffing present. Like a lost child in a crowded mall, I wandered looking for a clue, until I found sort of a line of people waiting. Decent people usually wait in line to enter places, so I calculated that might be the right spot. I asked the fellow readers at the end if that was the line to see Isabel, and a sweet lady with a bright smile asked if I had a ticket. The event was free but tickets were required to have a seat at the auditorium. When I said “No,” she said, “Here you go,” and gave me a printed page with a golden ticket. Hold on, that was for the chocolate factory. Wrong channel, I mean story.

Astonished and grateful, I introduced myself. Her name is Lee Ann and her friend’s, Jason. Surprisingly, that was the line for people who didn’t have tickets and were waiting to see if any empty space was available after the ticket-bearers were seated. Since Lee Ann, Jason and I had paper keys to the kingdom, we surreptitiously moved toward the Pearly Gates, doing an strategic stop to say hello to Susan (I’m bad with names I hope I’m not giving her the wrong one), who is the fabulous Social Media Attaché of NPL and, in a fantastic twist of the net, had favorited my tweet regarding my enthusiasm about Isabel’s visit to Nashville. And with that magnificent augury we found our places on the red velvet seats of the auditorium. Lee Ann and Jason were expecting two more friends: Ellen and Bo. Soon, our little band of Allendians was complete.

A blond lady with long legs and sexy glasses introduced the Mayor, and the Mayor, after a few comments about the author and other NPL’s news, introduced Isabel.

Isabel welcomed us and talked about her new book, Maya’s Notebook; the inspiration behind it (her extensive family’s youngsters) and how it was developed. Around this part she commented that she hated Las Vegas, and it was simply hilarious (part of the book happens in Las Vegas, so go figure). She read from her new book in her sweet accent, somewhat distorted by her sore throat but still enchanting and charming.

And here comes the part of the red shirt, since we already met the new friends. After the reading she opened a space for Q & A and yours truly, six feet tall but not scared to use gimmicks, was wearing the infamous crimson flag. As they were passing the mic around, I raised my hand and she said, “There, pass it to the gentleman in the red shirt.” I asked her about dictatorships (since we also had one in Panama) and if it was important for her to keep this theme in her books as a way to keep future generations from forgetting that it happened. She explained that it wasn’t about dictatorships but about tragedies and memories in general because we can have a future without a past.

The questions flew and here are some nuggets of her wit and wisdom.

“The first law of nature is the Law of Reciprocation; you have to give as much as you take.” 

"That doesn't look like a son; it looks like a husband." (A woman introduced us to her son she carried while reading The House of the Spirits.) and then Isabel add "Is he normal?" (Because of the book of course.)

“How can you write a book without sex?” (Talking about YA books.)

“My mother married the wrong man, and that’s why I was born in Peru. Not because there is something wrong with Peru, but because something was wrong with my father.”

“Gentlemen, Legacy is a penis word; only men want to tie everything up for when they die and people don’t forget about them.”

The last one is not completely verbatim but it has the essence of it (the penis), this is interesting because she was at a World Religions Conference at an abbey somewhere in Europe, where every other attendant was  male (the Dalai Lama, etc.), and the homework of that they was What is your Legacy? And of course one of her first words as she took the stage was conveniently penis. I don’t think it had anything to do with P envy and a lot with V wisdom.

She signed books. We exited. Hubby picked me up (Mamma got her present). It never actually rained or stormed. And on my way home, I was excited because my Eva Luna was complete with the mark of her mother.






Sunday, April 14, 2013

ALTER EGO

Sweet Mistress Macky at Complaint Department Group on GoodReads is making an awesome airplane satire and yours truly is about to become part of the ongoing series. This engorged my over-excessive
imagination to create the Autobiography of  my character and here are three possible covers for the smashing best seller.

Since you can choose your favorite moment for your Autobiography's cover, I went circa 2008 before I moved to Nashville. I'm just basically the same, perhaps a little huskier.





And here is an snippet of the first chapter.

You know you're a total slut when for your 25th birthday instead of a surprise party your friends throw you a surprise gangbang. Nevertheless in my insatiable hunt for new experiences I asked if there was a guy for each year. Sadly, that wasn't the case, they've just hired 10 guys. Lucky for me, two were well-know porn stars and in that faithful (or should I say sinful?) night my life (and my body) changed forever.