My Greek Love

Regarding my Greek love

Her passion overwhelms me

The intensity almost drowns me

But I will not let go

No, not ever will I let go of her.

(c) 2009 D.Hill

]]> http://dmarcohill.wordpress.com/2009/02/08/my-greek-love/feed/ 1 dmarcohill neu-0301 ms7 ms1 ms44 ms2 s8 nea-257 samba-006_600_398 http://dmarcohill.wordpress.com/2008/09/09/if-you-dig-poetry-no2-the-intention-of-love-and-tears/ http://dmarcohill.wordpress.com/2008/09/09/if-you-dig-poetry-no2-the-intention-of-love-and-tears/#comments Tue, 09 Sep 2008 10:36:22 +0000 dmarcohill http://dmarcohill.wordpress.com/?p=115 ]]>

* * *

Love woke me up from a dream

And told me all the beautiful things I wanted to hear.

About how I should never fear the weight of my burdens.

About how She would forever be there to comfort me

Like the soft cotton blankets of my youth.

Love wrapped her wings around me

And sang a sweet melody in my ear.

About a place of peace and tranquility,

Where running blue waters ran clear,

Where white calla lilies grew and butterflies flew near

Love gently touched me on my lips,

And promised me She would soon return.

I believed Her like I always did on nights like this,

I believed Her because I always trusted Her kiss,

I believed Her because She was my angel of promise,

I believed Her because Love is faithful and true,

Very simply I just believed Her.

But Love never came back, how mysterious could that be?

Or is it me who makes Her a mystery?

They say a man is not supposed to cry,

But how much loneliness can one man survive?

They say a man is not supposed to cry,

But how much heartbreak until I’m allowed to die?

No matter how much I sleep, no matter how much I weep,

Love never returned to me.

But a man is not supposed to cry.

© 2008 D’Marco Hill

I’ve been having trouble lately as I struggle to find my identity as a romance writer. Lately, I’ve been doing a lot of preparation for two more erotic romance short stories to complete the collection for “Beyond Curious” and I have been having a growing concern of, “Am I putting too much sex in my stories or not enough!?”

Some of you might be surprised to know how involved these early stages can be at times. Usually it will begin with general brainstorming about the basic idea for the new story with a heavy emphasis on the characters: What my main characters are like? What’s their background? What do they look like? What are their strengths, flaws and/or addictions? What motivates them? What obstacles are they facing preventing their love from happening? How is this is all resolved? Is it all resolved?

So all this stuff is very important to me because I am trying to create a storyline with these characters that the reader will really invest in. Establishing my characters is crucial because other than a loose outline of the beginning , middle and conclusion of the story, I pretty much dive into the story’s dialog just letting the characters kind of direct me as to what happens next. That’s the fun part – getting into that zone where it almost feels like I’m just copying this sexy movie that’s in my head, even I don’t know where its going exactly.

Anyway…I got off track a bit. – As I build this story, I also get to recognize my creative tendencies which makes me concerned that I may be more romance writer than erotica writer. Is there a creative zone in the middle true to romance as well as newer more raw forms of written erotica? Am I selling out by straddling the fence. Should I emphatically choose one or the other?

I don’t have to worry about losing my hardcore erotica readers who tend to be impatient with involved story lines and pretty much want to hurry up and get to the sex scenes. I don’t want to feel like I’m forcing sex scenes when its not appropriate to the story nor do I think I will be able to write them as effectively. But… in writing a more true romance style, I also don’t want to feel restricted to using a softer, more white-washed version of my love scenes. I want to be free to be as explicit in language and description as necessary without being over the top.

The angle I “try” to write erotic romance is with the goal that the reader identifies with the character or characters, becomes invested in their story, both the pain and joy, so when that character is finally making love, their emotional investment (hopefully) is at its peak. That is IF I can create that love scene descriptive enough, no sugar coating it, but revealing all of the sexual tension that can take place, the smells, the taste, the sweat, the visuals of sex, whatever. I need this love scene to affect my reader “physically.” Yes, I want to entertain you with the story, but I must admit, I also want you so turned on you can’t wait for more.

But…what takes priority in the desires of most readers? The story leading up to the sex scenes? Or the sex scene itself. Do I make a bigger effort to include more sex or will that be too much for “my” brand of stories? Hmmm.

I dunno. Maybe a few of you have some input, but until I figure it all out, I will just keep writing the only way I know how and just let my natural creative DNA point me in the right direction. Hopefully it works to entertain my readers as well as turn them on in the process. I suppose this is the ongoing journey of becoming more comfortable and more skilled as a romance writer or erotic romance writer or romantica writer or sex writer…or whatever!

]]> http://dmarcohill.wordpress.com/2008/08/31/how-much-sex-is-too-much-sex/feed/ 1 dmarcohill http://dmarcohill.wordpress.com/2008/07/17/58/ http://dmarcohill.wordpress.com/2008/07/17/58/#comments Fri, 18 Jul 2008 06:08:34 +0000 dmarcohill http://dmarcohill.wordpress.com/?p=58 ]]>

Dear D’Marco,

You write so eloquently putting desires into a woman’s head I thought you might have an opinion on this: I don’t think Jamaican men enjoy sex! They have a tool and use it, but they never seem to pleasure the woman’s needs. Women don’t seem to be a priority no matter how good they are and how much they can do for their man. What happen to romance? Why do I always get the short end of the stick?

* * *

First, thanks for the compliment! Since I am black American I cannot even begin to speak for Jamaican men and even if I did it would of course be a generalization. I also have to imagine, somewhere, someplace there’s a woman asking the exact same question you’ve asked about Italian men, and Spanish men, and American men.

That said, in my opinion regardless of ethnicity and culture, a man will care more about a woman’s need when they are genuinely in love and emotionally invested in their woman. When this is the case, I think their woman’s needs and pleasures usually do get met (or at least the attempt is made). But to have sex where your pleasure is basically getting ignored is most likely a sign of selfishness of your partner, sexual immaturity, or simply a lack of real love. I tend to lean toward the latter as real love usually sets the tone for real romance.

Now back to your accusation towards Jamaican men. You might consider that Jamaican men know that every week there are planes of women, especially white women who travel to their country and have an um…let’s say, liking for them. For some of these women it almost borders on a fetish.

Well, many of the Jamaican men being very aware of their appeal will be oh so generous to satisfy the convenient sexual curiosities of these tourists, no problem mon! Now I’m not saying you, but if a woman were to find herself in this position, your personal pleasure just may be at the bottom of the Jamaican stud’s priority list, no candles, no wine, no romance, thus you getting the short end of the stick (pardon the pun).

But hey, I’m no one special. That’s just my two cents for whatever it’s worth.

Peace n’ Blessings
D.H.

Still, I try to share my little opinions for whatever it’s worth and from time to time I thought I might share a few. So, I’m posting this “question and answer” that you might find interesting. It’s been edited for clarity and her real name of course is omitted.

* * *

Dear D’Marco,

I actually like your stories, it’s a good escape [because it makes me think], “If only real life relationships were like this.” But truthfully with men, I’ve basically given up on love. I’m not sure it exists. It seems more or less like a damn fantasy these days. Every time I believe in a man, I end up being lied to or disappointed and that shit really gets old. I’ve just got to a point where I do what I have to do to protect myself. Do you really believe in real love and soul mates?

* * *

I do. But I also understand where you’re coming from. I’ve had moments where I felt that way also believe it or not. But yes, I absolutely believe in real love and soul mates, I just think too often many of us are not looking at the whole idea of love objectively.

I tend to think true love is so unique and exclusive and wonderful it “should” be rare. It should be kinda hard to find. Should true love be so common and easily attained that we could get it exactly when we wanted it? How special could it be if it were as common as walking down aisle nine in the local supermarket just to pick up a little “Everlasting Love”? Well I don’t believe it should be that easy. I say give true love a little more value than that.

I think part of the problem is far too many of us desire the elusive love so much, we enter into false relationships that are not right for us from the very beginning…perhaps it looked right on the outside, perhaps a child was born, perhaps we got caught up in the other persons potential, perhaps we were lost in their sex appeal, yet it was still not the right everlasting relationship for us no matter how much we fool ourselves into believing it is.

We stay in these relationships and precious time goes by, energy is wasted, hope fades, trust is compromised, tears fall, and when that false relationship inevitably crumbles, what do we do? We want to attack the legitimacy of love!… Huh??… Yeah, we’ll question love’s realness. Love isn’t down for us. It’s just a fantasy. But hold on, love is not at fault, she didn’t do us wrong. You may not like me saying this, but usually it’s “we” who are at fault.

I wish more of us began to look within ourselves first. Amazing how the answer is usually within ourselves even when it’s easier to blame those who have hurt us completely ignoring our own selection of this fool in the first place.

A little re-adjusting and repairing and strengthening of ourselves can go a long way in who we attract and ultimately getting what we deserve in a loving relationship. yes, with a little honest soul searching I think we might find love had her eye on us after all. We don’t find love, love finds us.

Just my two cents for whatever its worth.

Peace n’ Blessings

D.H.

* * *

Flowers and Butterflies

“Lounging Nude Amidst Flowers” by George Quaintance (1902-1957). Mostly known for his underground gay art, you can learn more about him at www.georgequaintance.com

Sullivans Island, South Carolina – 1959

I know I should have, but I just couldn’t take it off. It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever owned. In a rich cranberry color, the strapless, silk taffeta cocktail dress fit me perfectly, just how I like it: elegant but still sexy enough to play up what boobs I had. With grandmother’s pearls the complete outfit was heavenly.

I’m sure it must have been expensive because mother bought it from Josephina’s on Market Street. I remember reading in the newspaper one day that Mrs. Jacqueline Kennedy shopped there when she and Mr. Kennedy were in town campaigning for the presidency. I know I’m being silly, but how could mother and daddy expect me to take it off?

Besides, I wanted Richard to see me in it and this was the only way since mother and daddy rejected the idea of allowing him to come to Aunt Jenny’s wedding reception earlier this afternoon. In fact, Richard was a subject my parents barely wanted to acknowledge. I think they assumed our love affair would conveniently go away when I left for New York in the fall. I would be attending Sarah Lawrence College to study law.

My daddy was normally fairly liberal but would always say, “Kayla, boys and books do not mix… especially not them colored boys.”

A few months ago, I found out daddy offered Richard and his family a large sum of money to set up their own wood cutting business if Richard left me alone. I do know his family could have used the money. Life was tough in North Charleston, but instead Richard and his family politely declined. Since that day, more than ever Richard felt a strong financial obligation to his family. Still, I was so angry with daddy when I found out about it, I didn’t speak to him for weeks.

Normally I hated to disappoint daddy, but what could I do? Richard and I had fallen madly in love and nothing in this world would prevent us from having a future together. We knew what we were facing here in the south and had been planning to escape this racist little town once and for all.

Little did daddy know Richard had saved up enough money to also move to New York. He was able to find a club in Harlem where he could play his jazz music with some famous band leader. I think his name was Duke. Duke Wellington or something like that. I was so proud of him. Just a few months longer and our new life would begin.

Richard was late, it was almost four in the morning and I was getting sleepy. The sun would soon be up and I had to get back into my room before Geraldine, our maid woke up to prepare breakfast. I was a little worried even though he never disappointed me. I nervously covered a small basket of treats. I knew how much Richard liked sweets, so I saved him some lemon tarts from the reception.

Only three years older than me, Richard seemed so much more mature for his age. He read a lot so maybe that’s why he gave the impression as if he were already grown up at twenty years old. He even walked sexy and confident unlike many of the boys around here. And then there was that body of his, oh my God, he was like a statue, so tall, dark and powerfully built. Richard appeared more like an athlete than a saxophone player standing at about six-four, always clean shaven with extremely short hair brushed into waves.

If I were to be truthful, size was a bit of a fetish for me, not cock size but Richard’s overall physical size. Since I was so petite, I not only loved the contrast of our skin color, but the great difference in our physical sizes. It made for wonderful fantasies of what he could do to me and how he could do it to me. Now the question was when would he do it to me.

I was a little chilly with just the dress on, but I counted on Richard being able to warm me like only he could do. I was careful to lay out a large blanket to protect my dress while using the rest of the blanket to wrap around my shoulders. Certainly he would be here any minute.

I never had been out in the back of the house at this hour when it was quiet and still. The scene was so beautiful I wondered how come I had never noticed it quite like this before when staring out from my bedroom window.

Our beach house sat on top of a steep grassy hill that was met by the sands of the North Atlantic Ocean. From our point of view, those calm waters rested more like an oversized lake. The sound of feathering waves softly brushing against the sand was calming. My nightlight was now the moon that reflected the sea behind a dark sky.

I was getting worried now, normally he is on time. I wonder if he’s okay? Or maybe he just accidentally fell asleep. Ah, sleep, something I should be doing as my eyelids were now getting heavy from listening to the relaxing rhythms of the water.

Of all nights to not show up. Finally I wanted to give Richard what he’s been desiring for so long, yet was polite enough to wait and not press me too much. Aside from a lot of kissing and touching and sometimes letting him put his hands inside my panties, I had not gone all the way even though in the privacy of my mind I had allowed him to do all kinds of dirty things to my body.

The last time I was with him, we were in the north side woods having a picnic and for dessert he treated me to his soft, full lips. He knew how to kiss me in such a way that I couldn’t help but close my eyes so that I would be surprised at where he would kiss me next. It didn’t matter, because it seemed every time I met with Richard, whether we kissed, or danced, or had conversations about our future together, he left me with wet panties. Sometimes it was his touch, sometimes his tongue, and other times it was simply his deep voice so smooth and elegant.

I laid back against the hill as the surrounding blades of tall grass swayed back and forth making soft brushing sounds from the night ocean breeze. I was afraid to close my eyes. I didn’t want to drift off to sleep so I stared up at the glowing moon thinking of Richard’s lips, how thick and supple they were, how they felt on my skin. How he would lift my hair and kiss the back of my neck sending chills through me. I was helpless to this beautiful black man. All I could do was close my eyes and enjoy.

“Kaaayla?…Kaaayla?” said a deep, gentle voice whispering into my ear.

Was I losing my mind? Are the ocean waves calling my name? Half asleep, I looked up and there was Richard kneeled above me with his pleasant smile.

“Well you are sure dressed up and fancy for breakfast this morning. I should have wore my tuxedo,” teasing as he often does. “Here, I brought us rolls and honey and a few peaches,” reaching into a large brown paper bag.

“Richard Johnston! Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for you since midnight!”

“I’m sorry Kayla. I had to stay with my mother until she was resting and fell asleep. She’s still been having those terrible chest pains.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that. I guess I’m not too upset then.”

“Thank you. I’m pretty worried about her,” as he stroked my hair out of my face. “I was able to convince Jacob to give me a ride over here or it really would have been too late.

“Mmm…You smell good,” getting closer to his body.

“Just some cologne I bought at Eckerd’s drug store. I rushed to wash up and come here. I missed you Kayla,” kissing me softly on the lips. “It’s nice out here,” now noticing the wonderful scenery.

By this time the new day was just beginning. If there was anything more dramatic than the sun rising in the south I sure would like to see it. The rising sun was an electric orange illuminating the sky and highlighting the rolling ripples of the sea.

The birds were now singing and where somehow the sun shined a beam of light onto some nearby flowers, a gorgeous butterfly landed onto a leaf to settle from its flight.

“Oh it’s so beautiful Richard. I wish we could enjoy it together, but I’m going to have go inside. My family will be getting up any minute.”

“Okay, well wait one minute, I have something to give you.” Reaching further into the paper bag, Richard pulled out a book: Let’s Travel To Paris. “Read the inside,” he asked.

Taking the book into my hand I read it aloud:

To the woman I will forever love,

Let’s explore this world together, and live boldly without regrets. Our destiny will lie in our devotion to one another and the bond that I pray is never broken. You speak often of Paris and the Eiffel Tower. Today, let’s vow to one day see The City of Lights together, hand in hand as husband and wife. Are you ready?

Love Always,
Richard

I didn’t know what to say. I was beyond happy and a little surprised that Richard was actually committing to our love. He could have so many other women. Still, I looked deep into his eyes and I could see sincerity.  I had to kiss him if even for a moment before I had to get back into the house.

Giving me his warm tongue, it danced with mine as he position himself between my legs. Slipping his hands underneath the now wrinkled dress, Richard explored my inner thighs massaging the mound of my moist panties.

I really had to go, but nothing would come out of my mouth.

He expertly found the zipper in the back of my dress opening it just enough to release the latch of my bra.

I tried to whisper something in Richard’s ear but again I was unable to speak. My heart raced because I knew what he wanted. I was nervous but so ready for this man.

He had the juiciest lips, thick and perfectly shaped and each time he kissed a different part of my body it sent a new wave of excitement I had never experienced.

The cool morning air brushed along my bared nipples making them hard and sensitive. Richard’s tongue would soon find them, licking them extra wet so the open breeze would cool them and force me to arch my back from the sensation.

“I’ve got to taste you Kayla. Can I taste you baby?”

My legs answered for me as they opened wide for him. My heart was racing because I didn’t know what to expect beyond the fantasies I had when touching myself at night. Now, here he was and it was going to actually happen.

One of Richard’s hands was always on my body no matter what he was doing to me. It was as if his oversized hands sent heat waves throughout me keeping me warm and comforted.

Reaching over with his free hand he folded his jacket three times to make a pillow to lift my hips up in the air. Lowering his head between my thighs, I could feel my chest pounding with an exotic mix of nerves and anticipation.

Richard let his fingers rub over my lips and instinctively I took them into my mouth. Even his fingers were thick and strong. I closed my eyes and sucked them as if it was a real black cock.

Taking his fingers wet from my mouth, he gently pinched and twisted my nipples while down below his juicy lips kissed my inner thighs tracing the outside of my panties with his mouth.

Even though my knees suddenly tried to close, it wasn’t that I wanted him to stop, it was just a uncontrolled reaction to what he was doing to me.

He wanted my panties off but I knew we had to stop. They would be looking for me soon. Surely, they had knocked on my bedroom door by now.

“Richard, you’ve got to…”

It was as if my body had a mind of its own as I lifted myself up so he could slide my panties completely off.

His large hands held my ass as his tongue took a long, slow and flat lick through my pussy. Licking and gently sucking my outer lips, I felt his two large fingers penetrate me gradually filling me up. His strong fingers curved upward caressing my insides.

I began to lose control as something he was doing down there was bringing me such a unique pleasure, yet I was confused as to what the very sensitive feeling was. It was new, but I wanted more.

“Don’t stop Richard,” I begged. My moans were spontaneous just as my breathing was wild and unrestrained.

While the fingers of one hand were still stroking me, the fingers of the other began to massage my clit with small, focused movements. What was this man doing to me?

I had never been so sexually free. I temporarily lost any traces of prudence I had left. The time or place was of no importance any longer as I lay on that grassy hill in the back of my family’s home, legs wide open in the morning air as the most gorgeous black man in South Carolina ate my pussy with skill and purpose.

Taking his wet fingers he pulled back the hood over my clit letting his tongue flutter on the exposed little ball of sexual nerves. Still stroking my pussy with his other hand the only thing I could hold on to were my own breasts.

I held them how I liked them to be caressed, pinching my nipples as hard as I could stand it, moaning sounds of approval and direction for my dark lover.

Richard’s mouth captured my clit in his mouth, sucking and licking it within the warm fluids of his mouth. I could hear the swishing noises turning me on further. I put my hand on top of his head to encourage him more.

Between Richard still sucking and licking my clit like ice cream while his fingers thrusted in and out of my drenched pussy, I could feel yet another finger massaging my asshole. With these three pleasures all happening at the same time, it was about as much as I could handle.

My eyes could hardly stay open as I was lost in pure ecstasy. How many hands does this man have? My hips gyrated uncontrollably following the lead of Richard’s movements. I felt drugged and wanted more.

Breathing wildly my moans grew louder, “I want you Richard.”

“Are you sure? You ready for me Kayla St. James?”

“Do it Richard!” I was just about begging him as this point. “Just do it right now.”

He rose up quickly to take down his pants. His kisses were still generous as they moved around to any exposed part of my body: my shoulder, my forehead, my neck, my ear lobe, my mouth. I felt no shame to lick my own juices from Richard’s lips. Passion overcame me.

As Richard lingered above me whispering nasty thoughts into my ear, I could feel his big black cock resting on my belly, heavy and thick ready just for me. I was beside myself with anticipation.

“Please Ricard…do it to me!…c’mon fuck me!”

With those pleas, he stroked his long, black cock slowly and with the intention to please. Sliding his shaft inside me I laid my head all the way back and allowed him to take control of me.

At this moment I could care less if the entire town was watching in complete horror or delight. Scandal or not, I was going to enjoy this black dick and let Richard take me however he wanted. I was his and he knew it.

Stroking me deeper and deeper I surprised myself at how much I could take considering his size. I reached up to feel his arms, so muscular and tense as he they supported his weight.

His thighs slapped against the back of mine as he hammered me with persistence. The strength in his body was an amazing thing to watch. I enjoyed watching the intensity in his muscles, his skin so dark and sleek.

I know I shouldn’t have asked, and certainly not right then, but I did anyway, “Do you love me Richard?”

“Yes Kayla,” barely out of breath, “I love you more than anything.”

“Anything?”

“Okay, almost anything.”

I smiled at my own need for affirmation at that moment.

Richard took hold of me and rolled over so he was laying on his back and allowed me to straddle him.

This is when I really enjoyed that difference in our physical size I was mentioning earlier. To climb on top of him and ride his hard dick while I massaged my clit was wonderful. As powerfully built as Richard was I was now the one in control. It was my turn to finally see him lose a bit of his composure.

I grinded my little pussy on my black man the best I knew how, bending over to nibble on his chest and nipples. I reached back to cup his balls and they were wet from the juices trickling out of my pussy.

I loved seeing the expression of ecstasy on his face, his mouth open, his chest heaving up and down, hearing his deep manly moans, unable to speak. I was delighted to give him such pleasure but right then I could only feel my own climax beginning to erupt.

Richard’s cock was as hard as ever as I grinded on it the way I needed it, I wanted to be selfish and fulfill the sexual curiosities I had about him for so long. He captured my heart with his kindness, he stimulated me with his intelligence, and now the only thing left was to experience his passion.

My orgasm began to emerge. I think I could feel tears streaming from the corner of my eyes. It was incredibly powerful. I rocked and my body shook as it began to feel overcome with rapture. My center tightened as I felt a sharp release that somehow was equal pain and pleasure. I came with great force. It was an experience I wanted again and again.

My legs quivered uncontrollably for a few moments until my breathing finally settled. I opened my eyes to see Richard staring at me smiling with love and admiration. The kind of stare any woman would want from their lover.

“Come here,” he said, motioning for me to lay across his chest. His big arms enveloped me as he stroked my hair with the tenderness I have come to love about him. “I want to ask you something.”

The sky was bright and blue. The new day was here. It was now beginning to be hot from the mature sun. I could hear the morning cars and trucks pass by on the main road above us.

“Kayla!!” “Kayla!!!

My father!

“Richard, go!” frantically getting off of him and handing him his pile of clothes. I quickly kissed him once more and told him to run!

A shot gun blast rang in the air!

“I’ll get you boy!” My father yelled out. “I know where you live!”

Another shot gun blast!

Richard had run fast through the trees and was already out of sight.

“Kayla, get here in this house!”

Walking towards daddy in tears, “Why did you have to shoot at him?! You could have killed him! I hate you, I swear I do!!”

“You better lower your voice when you’re talking to me. You will not have that nigger boy on my property ever again, I’ll see to that. Now get in the house!”

“Why do you have to be this way?”

“Don’t you worry about me. You just better hope to God you don’t turn up pregnant!”

“And I hope to God that I do!”

I didn’t see it coming. It was the first time Daddy ever laid a finger on me. It seemed to happen in slow motion as he slapped me to the ground.

All I could do was hold the side of my face and focus on the day when I would be leaving this place. In fact, maybe I’d be leaving sooner than later.

* * *

It had been several weeks since the last time I saw Richard. I had not heard from him at all. I wanted to talk with him to let him know I was moving to New York sooner than planned. Perhaps he could make arrangements to come with me instead of waiting until later. I already had a place picked out near campus and I wanted to Richard to have my new address for when he arrived. I could hardly wait to live almost as man and wife up north where race was not such a big deal.

I got my best friend Janet to ride me up to North Charleston. First, I stopped by the lumber yard where he worked and strangely no one could tell me anything. Next, we went to a little night club he performed at every once in a while. It was still early so there were just a few people milling around and no one had seen him. To say I was now worried was an understatement. Just as I was about to go back to the car, an older black gentleman nervously stopped us.

Carefully looking around, “Uh ma’am, you might be interested to know, I uh heard there was a fire at the Johnston home. Seems the young man got himself in a whole lot of trouble and well…I better leave it alone. Reckon I don’t have all the facts. But thought I’d let ya know. Good day now.”

“Thank you sir.”

This can’t be. The old man must have been mistaken. I asked Janet to do me one more favor and drive me to Richard’s house.

I was a bundle of nerves the entire trip there. I thought about daddy and wondered if he might know anything. I had noticed he and mother hadn’t been getting along lately. She was by no means happy about Richard and I being together, but she did seem to have a certain understanding about the power of love and how it had affected her daughter.

As we finally drove up to 5520 East 117th  Street I saw the burnt black and gray skeleton of the charred house barely standing. In front of the dirt yard there was a hand-made cross staked into the ground:

R.I.P.
Charlene Johnston
Richard Johnston
Miriam Johnston
Michael Johnston

July 12, 1959

Instantly, my world was shattered. I closed my eyes so that when I opened them again, perhaps this would all be a horrible dream, but it was not. My eyes welled up with tears as my mouth trembled in disbelief. Janet wrapped her arm around me as I crumbled into a ball against the car door. I buried my head into my arms as the agony of realizing I had really lost Richard set in. I peeked out the car window one last time. I would never be the same.

* * *

Paris, France – 1972

“So, I will see you later tonight? I will cook, a little wine, some soft music and maybe we can just relax. Sound good?”

“Sure Remy,” giving him a quick peck on the lips. “Thanks.”

Remy was a real sweetheart. We dated on and off three of the last five years I had been living in Paris. Sophisticated and handsome in his own way, he was quite successful as an art curator for one of Paris’ most prestigious museums.

Even still, something was missing. Most of the time, I didn’t even bother to try and figure it out just accepting the relationship for what it was; something to do.

Remy had been hinting about marriage and I was an expert at putting that subject off until next time. For now, I suppose I was satisfied with life as it was.

I was kind of glad Remy had to go. I considered this my private time and liked being alone for a while.

I sat at my usual bench at Champ de Mars as I never got tired of looking at the Eiffel Tower. I had become an English teacher at a nearby middle school and aside from work I took a strong liking to jazz music. But on this day like many, instead of walking straight home, I would come here to the park just to sit and people watch.

It was an eclectic mix of businessmen, tour groups, fashionistas, and local artists, a little bit of everything. It was Friday so I was considering going to a jazz club in the neighborhood. Miles Davis was going to be performing. Since Richard died I grew to really appreciate jazz and though it usually put me in a melancholy mood, I somehow felt comforted in that environment.

As I continued to monitor the sights while enjoying a chocolate truffle, a man sitting on the other side of the bench dropped his newspaper. Reaching over to retrieve it from the ground, I noticed a picture and article:

The R.J. Jazz Trio performing Saturday night at the New Morning Jazz Club.

Below the caption was a picture of Richard! Well, I think it was him. It looked like him.

I sat there motionless staring at the newspaper trying to work out in my mind what exactly I was looking at.

“I hear they’re pretty good” said the deep voiced man.

Very slowly I turned around and it was Richard!

“Richard?” I asked quietly and carefully.

“How are you Kayla?”

“Wha…I’m…”

* * *

I must have passed out because when I came to. Richard was sitting on the edge of my bed with the same warm smile I remembered all those years ago. He had placed a cold face cloth on my forehead.

For the most part he looked the same except for the short afro and neatly trimmed goatee. I kinda liked it as many of the jazz musicians wore all kinds of cool facial hair. But yes, at thirty-three years old he looked wonderful.

“How about some aspirin and cold water?”

I took a sip before sitting all the way up in my bed.

“Um…excuse me but I have few questions here.”

Richard chuckled, “I’m sure you do.”

“First, how did you know where I live?”

“Your mother came to one of my performances in Chicago a few months ago. I asked about you and she was nice enough to give me the address. Plus, it’s also on your license. I got from your handbag when you fainted.”

“You saw my mother? Wow, I hadn’t spoken to her in a while.”

“Yes, we had a nice conversation actually. She cleared up a lot of things for me about that morning; A lot of anger I kept inside of me for too many years.”

“I hear she divorced my dad.”

“She has and that’s what was really um, interesting. She’s engaged to Charlie Watson.”

“Charlie Watson? The same Charlie Watson from television? But he’s…”

“Black? Yeah, I know,” Richard chuckled.

“Whoa. Forget the aspirin. I think I need a drink.” Opting for the water, I took a long swallow. “Okay, but one other minor thing…You’re supposed to be dead!”

“I am? I feel pretty good.”

“Richard, it’s not funny. What happened? All these years I’ve been a miserable woman and here you are sitting on my bed healthier than me.”

“Okay, okay. Well, after losing my family to the fire, I was angry at the world. Angry at God. Angry at a racist society, angry at your father, even angry at you for believing you may have had something to do with it.”

“Oh Richard, how could you think such a thing?”

“Well, yes I know that now, but at the time my head wasn’t right. I was still in mourning. It was devastating losing my family that way. I knew my mother was very sick and wasn’t likely to live much longer, but to lose my baby brother and sister with so much life ahead of them. It just seemed so cruel and unfair. I couldn’t make sense out of it. I couldn’t believe your father hated me that much because of my skin.” His eyes were wet.

“My father was responsible?”

“Yes Kayla. I thought you knew.”

“I guess deep down I suspected it but didn’t want to believe. I haven’t spoke to him since that morning. He’s written but I’ve ignored his letters.

“Well, after that, I knew I wanted nothing to do with that town, so I added my name to the wood tombstone because as far as I was concerned a piece of me died that day right along with my family. I would enlist in Army to fight in Vietnam until I returned last year on honorable discharge. — Want some more?” offering me more water.

“When I came back to the states I was determined to get back to my second love: Jazz. And that’s exactly what I’ve done. I got a few guys I knew through the years, formed the R.J. Trio and managed to make a pretty good career out of it so far.”

“Second love?”

“Kayla, you are my first love and my only love. Don’t you understand that?”

“Yes, I think so but I’m still trying to shake the cobwebs out of my head. I feel like I’m talking to a ghost right now. For thirteen years I thought you were dead.”

“I know, but I still love you.”

At that moment two beautiful butterflies landed on the railing of my balcony.

“Look Richard. Look at those butterflies!” pointing towards outside.

“Ah, the great migrators. Did you know in Chinese culture two butterflies flying together are a symbol of love?

“This day is getting more and more strange by the minute.”

“Not strange, prophetic.”

“Okay Mr. Johnston. Prophetic. That is if you’re still Richard Johnston. So what happens now?”

“Well, first you can come out to your balcony with me I have something for you, and later you can call Remy and cancel dinner plans. I think you’ll be busy tonight, and it won’t be relaxing,” looking down towards my crotch.

“Oh Remy,” I tried to explain, “He’s just a guy I’ve been dating from time to time, nothing too serious.”

“I know that. I could tell. True passion lives within us Kayla,” he said touching my heart. “Now, come with me.”

Outside on the balcony, the two butterflies remained perched on the railing unaffected by our presence.

“You may have forgotten that morning right before your father began shooting at me, I told you I had something to ask you.”

“I remember,” at that moment I reminisced.

“Here, I want you to have these.” Richard handed me a small bunch of wildflowers.

“They’re so pretty Richard, thank you.”

“Pretty? Are you becoming blind in your old age?” he joked. “Look closer sweetheart.

Doing as he said, at closer examination, I now noticed a spectacular diamond and platinum ring holding the small wildflowers together.

“Richard?!”

“Eux-tu m’épouser?”

“Excuse me? Excuse me? Did you just ask me to marry you?”

Richard nodded his head smiling.

“Will I marry you? Richard, did you just rise from the dead and come back into my life after thirteen years, and then ask me to marry you? Have you gone mad? Did the war make you a crazy person?”

“No. No, I don’t think so.”

“Out of all the arrogant things I’ve ever heard! I just can’t believe what’s happening here. It’s just…I don’t know what to think.”

Richard grabbed me by my waist with those big strong hands of his and held me close to him. “Already I’ve lived too long without you Kayla. Please don’t make me go another day without you. Please? I’m not afraid to beg.”

I looked into his eyes and trusted them just as I did that morning years ago. I held his face in my hands and kissed Richard with as much passion as I ever had. My enthusiasm for life had seeped out me during the past years and within moments I was being blessed with a  second chance. To have this man, my man come back into my life, I could feel a brand new beginning with renewed purpose and energy. I was so ready to participate in life again, all I could do was hug Richard as tight as I could, I never wanted to be separated from him again.

“Uh Kayla, I’m just curious, does this mean yes?”

“Richard Johnston, my love, it does mean yes,” kissing my man,”a…big…juicy… yes!”

* * *

(c) 2008 D. Hill

>>CLICK HERE TO DOWNLOAD THE ENTIRE STORY (PDF)<<

Writing about bold memorable characters and their sexy stories may sound glamorous, but the reality is effective marketing and promotions is crucial to healthy book sales for a successful career. Afterall, no matter how well-written the story, it means little if no one knows about it. Unfortunately though this can take up a lot of time.

Below is a sample of my self-imposed writing related tasks for today. I pretty much know it’s unlikely I will complete them all, but I do try to knock off the top five for sure, no excuses. — Today I got about half of it done as I had to take my mom to her doctor’s appointment this afternoon. With that in mind, this list does not include my other businesses and personal responsibilities. Take a look:

• Create a Facebook and LinkedIn page.
• Submit the appropriate blog posts to Digg, del.icio.us, and StumbleUpon.com.
• Email photographer Bryan Oten and model, Jackie O. Black. (see here).
• Correct the code for the blog’s Opt-In widget.
• Edit name from in “44 Floors” from Stacy to Maria.
• Maintain MySpace page with email/comment/message responses…add appropriate friends (100).
• Study podcasting options.
• Research viral marketing campaigns.
• Find 2-3 related message boards – register and participate.
• Create a D’Marco Hill banner
• Re-cut “Beyond Curious” book trailer – hopefully it will stay on YouTube this time.
• Study the Erotic Readers and Writers Association website http://www.erotica-readers.com/.
• Buy domain names.
• Oh…Write, write, write!

A pretty sexy schedule, eh?

Okay…getting ready to get a little dinner and then it’s back to editing my latest quickie, “Flowers and Butterflies.” I should be posting it by Monday!

D.H.

44 FLOORS

by

D’Marco Hill

The small perfume scented envelope was addressed to:

Mr. Andre King, Esq.
Law Offices of Alexander, King, and Whitney
3800 Wilshire Blvd., 44th Floor
Los Angeles, CA 91123

Dear Andre,

For quite some time I have observed you with a precarious combination of admiration and pure lust. Until now, I have remained respectful by keeping my desires for you a secret. But finally, I must admit I need you. I need to savor your kisses and feel your warm, masculinity next to mine. My hands finally need to be free to run their fingers over every curve of your dark, powerful body. I need to taste your beautiful, chocolate skin and explore you in the most intimate of ways.

In return, I want you to feel free to hold me with your strong hands and do with me whatever you like. I am willing to be yours, even if only temporarily. I promise you will not be disappointed as I know exactly the type of woman you like; I’ve seen your beautiful wife, Maria.

Please put any hesitation you may have aside, and allow me to be selfish for at least one night of passion with you. Andre, allow me to satisfy my most private curiosities and perhaps you will discover desires you thought you never had.

I will contact you soon. I can’t wait much longer!

Au revoir
Mrs. K

The fragrance of the note’s envelope was pleasant but it was bothering me because it was so familiar. Where did I recognize that perfume? It was a light floral bouquet. I could make out a touch of jasmine but was unsure of the other fragrant notes. Well, I’ll have to worry about this problem tomorrow. Right now I’ve got to get out of here to meet my wife for dinner.

Leaving the office a little later than I had planned, I had to rush to the elevators. I loved our old historic downtown offices. It was one of Los Angeles’ original high-rise buildings. With all of its character and grandeur it was certainly appropriate for a prestigious law firm such as ours that had been around for almost seventy-five years. The only issue I had with it were the elevators. While they were certainly beautiful in their craftsmanship with its meticulously carved dark, mahogany wood and decorative copper trim, unfortunately they were molasses slow.

It was 6:20p.m. and I was going to be late. The restaurant was across town and I still had to pick up Maria. As I stepped inside the crowded elevator, I was concerned that there were too many people inside and the combined weight might cause a problem. Over the years I pretty much knew about six people was the maximum weight this old girl wanted to carry before it squeaked and complained. I had no choice but to cross my fingers and hope this time I would be wrong.

Standing over by the elevator button panel, I noticed what I thought was an attractive and tall white woman. I couldn’t quite make out her face but I could see she wore dark sunglasses and had long, blonde bone-straight hair. It was cold outside so I thought nothing of her long trench coat but the sunglasses at this hour seemed strange. Funny though, she looked like some sort of sexy Russian spy.

“Uh, P2 please,” directed at the blonde woman.

Saying nothing in return she pressed the P2 button.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

With just those two words I thought I made out a French accent. As usual the old elevator took its time as it descended ever so slowly past the first five floors until…

“Bang!…Screeeech!”

The elevator suddenly jerked to the sound of grinding metal coming to an abrupt stop, the lights went dark. Moans of frustration mixed with perhaps fear filled the enclosed space: “Oh my God!” “Not again!” “What happened?” “Shit.”

We all just stood there for several minutes hoping and praying the elevator would start back up as it usually does. We gave it a few minutes as we all stood there vulnerable to the unknown. Nothing.

One desperate man finally said, “I’ve got to get out here!” Using his cell phone for light he found the door’s opening and was able to pry it open just enough to see the next floor.

“Good, we’re just about even with the floor,” the man said. “Someone help me open this door. Let’s get out of this thing!”

As the occupants of the elevator one by one took a big step up to floor level to exit, the helpful man gave a helping hand to each of them. The tall blonde’s turn was next.

“C’mon miss, grab my hand, I got ya!” the man offered.

“But I’m scared.”

Now I knew for certain it was a French accent.

“Look miss, there’s no reason to be scared. This old elevator does this almost once a month,” I offered. “I’ll help you up,” thinking to myself, I really just wanted to somehow salvage this strange day and be in front of a nice plate of pollo rigatoni and a glass of merlot.

“No, I will try again.” All of sudden she begins to mash all the buttons at once causing the elevator to shake and then plunge several feet to another screeching stop.

“Lady, what the hell are you doing!” now I was really pissed. Not only is this strange woman making me late and ruining my night, she almost killed us both!

“I am sorry. Are you afraid?”

Trying to gather my composure, “Well, I’m alright. I’m good. Are you? Are you afraid?” trying to appear cool while looking helplessly up into the darkness.

“No. Not anymore. I feel safe with you now.”

“Well, thanks I guess. I wish I could do more to help. Hopefully, Ol’ Alice our evening security guard will be able to call for help. I’m not sure if these old security cameras are working in here.”

“You can help.”

“Excuse me?” she was talking so low and calm I didn’t know what to make of her.

My vision limited in the darkened space I could hear the blonde finally move from her home in the corner of the elevator closer to me.

“Andre, I need you to help me,” she purred in her erotic French voice. She was close enough that I could smell her perfume. I could feel her within inches of me.

“Wait a minute. How did you know my name?”

“You mean you did not get my little note?” she asked innocently.

“You’re Mrs. K?” I felt like an idiot. Suddenly the scent of her perfume was clear and recognizable…Hanae Mori. That’s the aroma on the envelope!

“Yes, I must confess. I am sorry Andre but I finally needed to be with you my love.”

“Uh, here? Like this?!”

“Well, I didn’t intend for it to happen quite like this, but since we are here…” her hand found my face as she seductively traced my jaw, her fingertips lightly brushing over my lips, “we should explore the possibilities, don’t you think?” Her accent was weakening me. I must admit it was very sexy.

I leaned against the elevator wall still distressed over the elevator and if it was going to eventually drop us both to our deaths, and now I’ve got this strange woman wanting to have a damn affair.

The blonde persisted as she loosened my tie and unbuttoned my shirt giving me the gentlest kisses on my chest and nipple.

“Listen, Miss you apparently already know that I’m married, because I’m supposed to be meeting my wife for dinner right now.”

Ignoring my concerns, the blonde continued to kiss my torso before moving her way to kiss my lower stomach. “It doesn’t look like we’re going anywhere soon,” she said carrying on with her exploration.

The darkness of the elevator made each of her touches a pleasurable surprise as her hands roamed my body. I could feel myself getting erect and hungry for her, and the blonde was aware of this also. Still, I knew I could not betray Maria. We had been married for just about nine years now and everything was perfect. This couldn’t go down, could it?

“Besides Andre, I already called your wife. She knows you’ll be late.”

“You what?”

“I told her I was a temp and you had a very important engagement this evening. She is very understanding Andre.”

As if this gave her justification to continue, the blonde took a firm hold of my dick, rock-solid and pressing against my pants begging to be free, “I want to show you what you could have had a long time ago…”

Even though I knew better, the temptation to take her right there in the darkened elevator was nearly blinding me of good sense and devotion to my wife. This woman admittedly was turning me on…

The blonde began to unbuckle my belt, eager to release her prize. “I’ve been waiting so long for this. I want to taste that chocolate dick Andre.”

“Wait a minute, we can’t do…”

“Sshh, feel how wet I am,” she whispered finding my hand in the dark room. “Feel it.”

Oh God, why me? Damn, this woman is lucky I’m not ten years younger, because my ignorant ass at that time would have fucked the shit out of her.

“Listen, I can’t. Really, I can’t do this.”

It was quiet. The woman released my hand. “Are you sure Andre?”

“Yes, I’m sure. I just can’t do it, you gotta understand. I, I really love my wife. It’s a respect thing, ya know?”

I could hear her step back into her original corner of the elevator.

“You know what we really need to be doing is figuring a way to get the hell out of here, okay?” trying to shift away from the uncomfortable tension.

“No. I don’t think I’m finished with you.”

“Look, enough of this shit, I told you…”

Suddenly the elevator light came back on.

The woman was bent over tugging at her long, blonde hair until she flung what was fake hair across the floor revealing wild, naturally wavy jet black hair. Taking off her large sunglasses and turning towards me revealed a gorgeous Latina woman… my wife Maria!

“Well, I’m impressed,” she said smiling in her normal voice, no French accent.

All I could do was grab my heart and smile in pure relief, my heart was pounding, “Talk about being punked!”

“So papi, you know you’re getting some goood pussy tonight?”

“Is that right, just for me?”

“Mmm mmm…you have no idea how much trust turns me on.”

The blood in my legs began to flow again. “What if I can’t wait for tonight,” walking towards her to hold her in my arms. “I love you Maria.”

“And I love you too babe.”

Forgetting all about the jammed elevator I kissed my wife with the kind of passion reserved only for soul mates.

I wanted her right then. The blonde, well Maria, had already gotten my blood boiling and I wanted to be inside her.

Opening her trench coat revealed Maria in the sexiest outfit: her full breasts overflowing out of black lace corset with matching lace panties, black stockings and garter belt. My eyes were mesmerized at the sight of my sexy wife.

“Do you like?” Maria asked.

Without answering my hands found Maria’s plump ass lifting and squeezing her cheeks whispering a secret into her ear.

She needed no other encouragement as she stepped out of her extra tall heels pushing me back to the elevator wall before completely unbuckling my belt and dropping my pants and briefs.

Dropping to her knees, Maria freed my dick wasting no time giving me head so that I could feel the warmth of her mouth and teasing tongue. Both her hands grabbed hold of my shaft as her head bobbed up and down on the remaining inches of black dick. When she took it out of her mouth it was only to lick its entire length down to my balls before returning it back into the wet fluids of her mouth.

Playing in her beautiful dark hair I laid my head back against the wall, my eyes closed, my breaths short and helpless. No, I would not cum. I wanted more of her. I wanted to fuck my wife in a place we had not yet experienced.

I wildly took off my suit coat throwing it across the elevator, my tie following. I raised Maria up to kiss her again feeling her wet lips on mine. My hand felt between her thighs. The crotch of her lace panties was soaked.

Taking my hand into hers, like the good freak she was, she enticingly sucked her own juices from my fingers before nibbling on my chest and biting my nipple with just the right amount of pressure.

Briefly taking hold of her curvy, feminine hips I lifted Maria up into my arms, still kissing her, still lost in our spontaneous passion. This is why I fell in love with her in the first place. She had just the right combination of public sophistication and style, yet ready and eager for the most intense private scenes of kink. She was sexually impulsive and I enjoyed that about her.

Maria was so much smaller than me, it was easy to hold her with just with the strength in my arms. I walked her against the opposite wall, her legs wrapped about my waist, my hands supporting her ass, I was so hungry for her. I didn’t want to wait any longer.

Pulling her panties to the side I briefly stroked my dick to make it as hard and thick as possible before sliding it inside her dripping wet pussy.

Using the elevator wall as leverage, I pounded my dick in her again and again, over and over still whispering nasty desires into her ear.

“Take me papi,” Maria said surrendering herself to my sexual hunger.

Her nails dug into my back but the mild pain only turned me on further. “You’re a nasty little thing, aren’t you?”

“Yes baby, for you I am.”

Just what I wanted to hear as the power of my thrusts grew stronger, her moans of pleasure encouraging more.

Our sex was supreme. — With the foundation of basic trust, there were few if any limitations between us. We were comfortable within ourselves and comfortable with our expressions of love.

We knew we could love-fuck each other with intense animalistic aggression just as in the same way we could enjoy the slower, more sensual moments of our devotion.

But right now was a time for fucking.

My tongue again found her mouth as our kisses might pause but never stopped. My dick never grew tired of Maria. Her pussy was incredible and she knew it.

“Ooh… give me that black dick Dre, you know how I like that shit!”

I wasn’t sure if I could hold back much longer. I could recognize the beginnings of a tingling sensation that gradually grows into a sweeping force through my body.

I felt that I was close to releasing my juices into my wife right there in the stranded elevator.

“C’mon baby, give it to me papi! Work my pussy!” yelled Maria bucking and riding my black steel hard and strong.

My dick throbbed inside of her. Chills drizzled down my back as that familiar build-up of sexual tension rolled through my upper body down to my center. I was ready to explode!

“I’m about to cum!” driving my dick deeper inside her with each stroke.

“Take me with you Dre, cum inside your pussy baby!”

“I’m about to cum!”

“I’m ready for you…I’m ready!” her pussy grinding hard and slow on my beefy dick.

“Oh shit, there it is! There it is! There it is baby!”

I came long and strong inside her. I clenched onto Maria’s body strong and secure. At that same moment she closed her eyes, her mouth opened, her head rolled back as she prepared for her own mighty orgasm.

I continued the exact same pace of my strokes. Maria’s back thumped against the elevator wall from my persistent pounding. Her eyes again opened wide to look at me. Her lower body wildly riding me. My dick throbbed as it was now ready to release more of its honey.

We came together in perfect unison. Her thighs seemed tighter around my waist. My dick rested and pulsated inside her. Her pussy suddenly wetter from both our juices. The thick, white cum overflowing, drips from our centers.

All we could do is collapse to the floor from exhaustion. We sat in the corner of the elevator on top of a pile of my clothes. My arms tenderly wrapped around my wife. My thoughts were soberly reminded of our predicament.

“Maria, I love you so much.”

“And I love you Andre. Tu es magnifique.”

I laughed, “So what’s up with the French, where did all that come from?”

“You must have forgotten, I told you a long time ago I took French at that private school my parents forced me to go to. I learned a lot of things there.”

“Yeah, I bet you did.”

Again we kissed with playful pleasure, again and again with several more kisses leading into a long, loving embrace until…

All at once, the elevator began to drop!

“Andre!!” Maria screamed.

I could only hold her tighter as the elevator descended downward at great speed. The loud sounds of metal like a train rolling over its tracks passing by our ears.

At that moment, it is true what they say: a film of your life passes before your eyes. It is a very surreal moment when you are seconds from death.

Again, I told Maria that I loved her.

Her hold of me could not be any tighter as her head was buried in my chest. Her body shook in fear.

The elevator continued to drop at a furious pace.

I began to say out loud the Lord’s Prayer: “Our Father, who art in Heaven…Hallowed be thy name…Thy kingdom come…Thy will be done…in earth as it is in…”

“Screeeeech!”

“Bam!!”

We were safe. The terror had us wrapped tightly together in a ball in the corner. We were still shaking like two leaves. But, we were safe. Maria’s eyes were wet with tears, my heart visibly pounding.

“Are you alright in there?!” a voice yelled.

We could hear through the elevator doors a group of men talking, the sound of a walkie-talkie chirping from its channel.

Hello?! Are you alright in there?!!”
*

We quickly managing to put our clothes back on to keep our naughtiness a secret.

Once we were helped out of the old elevator and on to safe ground, we answered a few questions from the fire department. There must have been twenty uniformed men milling about.

Ol’ Alice, the building’s long time evening security guard of thirty plus years, who must have been at least seventy, called us over to her desk.

“Mr. and Mrs. King, I was so worried about you!” she was sweet as pie passing us both two cold bottles of water. “I felt so helpless seeing you on that camera monitor and I couldn’t do a darn thing about it.”

“Uh, Alice you mean to tell me you could see inside the elevator?”

Alice shyly nodded her head yes.

“And you saw everything?” Maria asked.

She nodded again.

“Okay, Alice let’s keep what happened in there just between us, deal?

Alice smiled, “Sure thing, Mr. King. Your secret is safe with me,” making a sign as if she were locking her own mouth and swallowing the key.

I could only give her a “Shh” sign with my finger over of my mouth. “Goodnight Alice. Thanks for the water.”

“No problem Mr. King. You two have a wonderful evening.”

As Maria and I walked down the corridor to the parking lot, I could hear Ol’ Alice saying out loud to herself, “Whew, now that is love…damn!”

I glanced back at Ol’Alice to give her a friendly wink as she still watched us with a big warm smile fanning herself from the heat.

© Copyright 2008 D. Hill

The first dwarf, unfortunately, is not able to get an erection. His depression is made worse by the fact that, through the wall of the next room, he hears his little buddy shouting out cries of, “Here I come again! …ONE, TWO, THREE…UUH!!” all night long.

So the next morning, the second dwarf asks the first, “How did it go?” The first mutters, “It was SO embarrassing. I could not get a hard on!”

The second dwarf shook his head. “Well, you think that’s embarrassing?”

“I couldn’t even get on the fucking bed!”

*******

Photography is a hobby I’ve been looking to getting involved with sooner than later. Eventually, for each erotic short story or book I put out, I’d like to create a video to promote that particular project and post it on some of the media sharing sites such as YouTube, MySpace TV, and Google Video, etc. — I envision these photographs being teaser scenes from my written story set to music.

In the meantime, I’ve kinda played around with this idea for the current book project I’m working on now: “Beyond Curious: Interracial Tales of Love, Lust, and Truth.” These are a few of my favorite photos in the interracial genre. Some you may have seen and some you may not have, but definitely give the video a look and let me know your thoughts.

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