Night Work (Part Two)
Erotica , Writing / 30 January 2019

I went back the next morning. I had to; I needed those records. It had nothing to do with how everything had played itself through my head in echo that night, or how I’d lain awake long after cumming, wondering what would have happened ‘if’. If I’d come to the stairwell a few minutes earlier, or a few minutes later. If I had dared to go down another level. If I’d seen them. If they’d seen me. Regardless – I needed those records. I had a job to do. And that was why I went back the next morning, nerves on high alert, back to Harolds Tower, and held my breath as I pushed open the door to the stairwell. I listened as I descended, step by step. There was no one there. I made it down to the basement unobstructed by panting, thumping bodies of either gender. Files retrieved. I took my time – maybe hoping beyond hope that perhaps, on my way out, I’d pass a knowing smile and a wink as someone else came down. Nothing. I feigned a smile and ‘good mornings’ to everyone in my office, once I finished the walk back, and handed the…

Merry Christmas from the Vanderbilts
Art , Erotica / 30 January 2019

Once upon a time, a very naughty Miss Santa had two very eager elves to help take care of her package. Pictured from left to right, the Vanderbilt family: Sanneke DeJaegher, Jessica Vanderbilt, Jia Chen. Not pictured: Emily Menton (but you can see her stocking above the fireplace). Artwork courtesy of Dieleth.   Click image to display full-size.

Mary (Part 3)
Erotica , Original Fiction , Writing / 19 January 2019

She was on her knees in front of him, staring up with vacant eyes and obediently bobbing her head. He was on her couch, head back and eyes closed to narrow slits, his hand wrapped in her hair as he leaned back and enjoyed. Mary sucked like a pro; she was too stoned to be anything but single-minded, and right now all her focus was on working up and down the length in her mouth, trying to take it as far down her throat as she could. He had come to visit her the Friday before Labor Day, nearly a month after he’d raped her in the parking lot. She’d been so surprised to him when she opened the door that she hadn’t even screamed. Maybe it was shock. Maybe it was fear. Maybe it was flashbacks to how he’d bent her over the bathroom sink near her office that night, and how he’d pinned her in the back seat of her car. He had almost been tempted to keep her sober. Instead, he’d lunged at her, buried his fangs in her shoulder, and then caught her as she’d sank to the floor. For the next three days, he’d kept…

Rules of the Game (Part Two)
Erotica , Original Fiction , Writing / 18 December 2018

“Sandrijn. Sandrijn.” Zhang had made good on his promise four hours after their encounter in the gym. Sanneke had returned from the seaside lunch with Jessica and the girls, dressed in a black spaghetti-strap tank top and a peach-pink skirt adorned with white hibiscus flowers. Jess had retired to catch up on email and check in on work while San entertained herself elsewhere. ‘Elsewhere’ meant one of the many long hallways that threaded together the various rooms, connecting bedrooms to kitchen to storeroom to gym. ‘Entertained’ meant headphones in and YouTube up, scanning for new musical releases as she walked off the faint buzz of her lunchtime margarita. Or it had, before she’d spotted David coming down the hall towards her. They didn’t say anything to each other: just a mutually held gaze and knowing smirks as the distance between them closed. She’d fully intended to keep walking and stride right past him to put his resolve to the test. She didn’t need to. Captain China hadn’t been shy about stopping her, wrapping those chiseled arms around her waist, and pushing her against the wall. The encounter had been fast, frantic, and satisfying. His fly open; her dress pushed up…

The White Witch
Erotica , Writing / 12 December 2018

“Lucita!” The call of challenge echoed through the empty foyer as Magdalena stopped at the foot of the grand staircase. There was no response; the mansion stayed as quiet as the grave. Had she not tracked the sorceress to its front gates, she would have believed it an abandoned estate; and were it not for the dim and ghostly flicker of the candle sconces atop the stairs, she would have believed it uninhabited still. “Lucita! Show yourself!” A flicker of wind curled across the upper level, carrying on it a breath of laughter. The flames of the candles shivered in answer, and the hair at the nape of her neck prickled. A leather-gloved hand came to rest upon the red oak banister, and her boot took the first step. Her other hand tightened around the hilt of her blade.  She cursed herself for wearing her cloak.  It tugged and fluttered weakly as she moved: a whisper of movement that nagged at the edge of her vision. She should have borne the cold without it, discomfort be damned. The hunter’s steps carried her up the stairs; her brown eyes scanned the barely-lit walls for any hint of life. Once at the…