Cold Dreams

I fell asleep with my window wide open. It was a balmy 45 degrees last night.  Actually, the fan was on too. On medium. Since the demise of my comforter, I only have a thin microplush blanket on my bed.

I dreamed I was cold. Huddled in a jacket, stamping my feet… cold.  I awoke pretty much frozen. I have the sniffles and a raging headache. I’ve probably bought myself a ticket to the doc. Jury’s still out though. I’ve only been up a few hours.  I’m still cold though.

The cold reminded me of a writing prompt from Avoid Writer’s Hell. The prompt had to feature sexual tension and a ski lodge. It was a contest and I didn’t feel like entering but I did come up with a little bit of a story.  It’s been awhile since I posted any writing and this prompt fits in with my theme of cold dreams today.

Snow featured prominently in his dream. Jeff didn’t know why until he saw the snow bunny. Long, shining auburn hair flew out behind her as she schussed down the mountain. That hair drew him like a beacon and, like an ass, he followed her when she went into the lodge.

Now, he stood outside her window while his feet froze. In full Peeping Tom mode, he watched her undress until she wore nothing but a cami top and boy shorts. The silky underwear kind, not the kind women wore to roller blade at the beach. She released her ponytail and he held his breath. God, he could almost feel the silky strands spill through his fingers. His libido smoldered.

She turned and saw him through the window, eyes widening with surprise. Then, she beckoned to him. Shocked, he edged closer as she pushed up the sash.

“You are a bad boy,” she purred. “You’re lucky you’re so handsome or I’d have called the ski patrol to rescue me.”

“I can rescue you. I’m a fireman,” Jeff mumbled, feeling dumbstruck. Her beauty mesmerized him and apparently took away his ability to speak coherently.

She smiled seductively and he felt himself move from smolder to blaze. “Are you now? I’m Ren. What’s your name, Mister Fireman?”

“J-jeff,” he stuttered, aghast at his awkwardness. Normally, he had more poise with women, but this one blew his skis off.

“Oh, Jeff. You are sooo cute.”  Ren patted his cheek softly and he breathed in her bayberry scent. A sexy thing like her could do as she pleased with him. Including baby talk.

“Shall I kiss you, my poor, cold fireman?”

Her pink lips pouted and Jeff nearly went into cardiac arrest. He leaned forward, intent on tasting her…

A clump of snow fell from the tree above him, splattering his face with icy water. He shut his eyes and swiped at the wetness. Her husky laugh sent arousal curling along his spine to his groin. His eyes snapped open.

The beautiful auburn hair of his new next door neighbor hung down in his face. The cold water came from the hose she held in her hand.  Dream over, he gazed up at Ren’s lithe figure, shown to advantage in a cami and boy shorts. Damn, he loved Southern California winters, he thought.

“Hey, mister. I realize that you’re laid up and all, but give a girl a hand and hold his hose,” she said with a laugh.

Jeff looked at his right foot, immersed in a tub of water. Ahhh. The frozen feet from his dream. He’d fallen asleep in his deck chair, his burned foot on ice, as he watched his sexy neighbor wash her car.

He took the hose and she deliberately swung her luscious ass in his face. Next, she bent to pick up a sponge, her cleavage on display. Jeff stared, wondering what the price of a couple tickets to Mammoth went for. He had a sudden yen for snow.

I hope all your dreams are warm and cuddly or hot and spicy! Happy Friday!

Doofus

I’m a total doofus. I missed my blogiversary. What a moron. LOL Everyone who posts the date of my blogiversary in comments will have their name go into a drawing for a Sex Toy item from the RottNRoll Cafepress store.

On the writing front, I finished first round edits on both Shifting Winds and Hot Water. I’m still waiting to receive The Wise Guy edits. Meanwhile, I’m writing a 6K story about demons and hellhounds for an anthology. No sex. No romance. It’s just kind of an odd Twilight Zone-ish story. What they call a “dark tale”. I also am committed to writing a 20K male/male ghost story to submit to MLR Press for their ghost anthology. That’s not due until August though.

Speaking of MLR Press they have this awesome book out called I Do which supports marriage equality. This book’s proceeds go to Lambda Legal to help fight Prop 8. I’ll have another announcement about this book and a special promo event by Wednesday.

I had another Nikki Sixx dream. You may recall that I occasionally have very weird vivid dreams with him in them. I think I’ll save the tale for another day though. It was an odd jumble of me, Nikki, his daughter, my daughter, Tommy Lee and a tornado. Weird stuff.

I need a really nice Marcus this week since I’m not writing any sex or romance. A real sizzler of a photo. What do you think of this one?

pic13

Meh. Maybe I shoulda posted the cowboy looking one. LOL At any rate, hope you have a great Monday! Don’t forget to post the date of my blogiversary in comments for a chance to win a prize!

wintersig

I Need A Shrink

He was hot. Hot in a way that made my knees weak. I could tell he didn’t really want to talk to me. He was edgy, and he kept looking at the door. The rest of his family stayed away though. That meant he had nothing to focus on but me. And he did. It was disconcerting.

His beauty was deadly. He totally slayed me with his dark eyes and his square jaw and hot body. My heart was racing and tumbling in my chest. The words he spoke were just ordinary ones. He said everything I expected him to say. There was nothing sexy or flirtatious about what he was saying. However, there was an expression at the back of his eyes that told me something far, far different than the words that fell from his lips.

His eyes were hot. And needy. Not needy bad, but needy good. The kind of needy that led to sweaty bodies and delicate touches and little moans of pleasure. One of those moans erupted from the back of my throat as I stared into his eyes. I couldn’t help myself. Looking at him was like looking at a Hometown Buffet when you’d been without food for months.

The sound of my moan affected him. How could it not? I knew I wasn’t the only one wrapped in this white hot heat of lust. But while I stared at him google eyed, unable to focus on the issues at hand, he’d been all business, only that expression in the back of his eyes giving away that he felt the same as I did. Now, that little snippet of sound was unleashing a beast. A beast that I knew would devour me. I was more excited than I could remember ever being.

His hand came up to brush my jawline. His body angled in closer to mine. I could smell his cologne. It was faint and overridden mostly by his own unique scent. I liked that. He wasn’t artificial. As his hand slid into my long hair and cupped the back of my head, I placed my palms on his rock hard chest. The muscles shifted beneath the thin t-shirt, and I could feel his heart thudding against my palm.

I looked up at him and saw that the expression in the back of his eyes had taken over. He wasn’t thinking about business at all now. He was thinking about me. He lowered his head. His lips brushed mine. I shivered, feeling as if an electrical current had just run through me. He kissed me softly and pulled back, looking into my eyes for a moment. Then he was kissing me harder. The tether that had held his desire in check, snapped.

Our bodies came together like waves hitting the beach. An inevitable meeting that gave pleasure and relief while pushing our desire to the edge of endurance. His mouth was hot and firm. The rough thrust of his tongue against mine held arrogance and urgency. The movements of his body were seductive. He held me in a primal manner, his body curved around me protectively, yet with a tenseness that came from his rising passion.

We kissed like this was our last kiss, instead of our first. My arms encircled his broad shoulders, my fingers finding his soft dark hair. The solid wall of muscle that was his chest crushed my breasts while his jean clad hips rubbed against me sinuously. Shivers of lust and some unnamed emotion rocked my body. I didn’t want to put a name to what I was feeling. I just wanted to enjoy it, the same way I wanted to enjoy the taste and feel of him.

The kissing session lasted for long minutes. We couldn’t get enough of each other. We’d progressed to hands sliding beneath shirts and into the waistbands of jeans, when voices in the next room brought us back to reality. He pushed me away from him, regret in his dark eyes. There was also a promise in those eyes though. A promise that we would soon finish what we had started this day. Later… tonight… him and me and nothing else.

I straightened my clothes, tugging at my top so that it covered my breasts again. He was buttoning his jeans. When we walked back into the huge lounge, it was empty. Whoever had been there was gone. He led me to the door.

“Do you want me to walk you to your car?” he asked, his voice low with a thread of protectiveness in it.

I shook my head. “No, I’m fine.”

We stared at each other for long moments. Then he sighed, his chest expanding with the air he took in. I had the urge to touch him again, but I knew that if I did, I would not be able to leave. I would beg him to just take me to his quarters and never let me go. I took two steps backward, out of the door. I didn’t know what to say to him. In the last ten minutes, he had changed my whole life.

“I’ll see you soon,” he murmured, his eyes filled with promise.

I nodded and turned away to walk to my car. The door closed behind me, and I tried to gather my scattered thoughts. Keys. Yeah, car keys. I needed them. I fumbled in my purse, my steps slow as I struggled to focus on the tasks at hand. Finally, the cool metal of the keys met my fingers. I drew a deep breath. My life was now on a path I had never envisioned. Anticipation rode me hard.

My steps began to pick up speed. I rounded the corner of the building, heading for the parking lot. That’s when I saw them. They were lined up along the side of the building, both men and women alike. His entire family. Armed. He stood dead center, his gun drawn. Our eyes met, mine startled, his warm with emotion, but stern with protectiveness. His older brother spoke.

“There’s a price on her head now. You’ve marked her as yours, now she’s ours to protect.”

He had? I was? I looked down at myself swiftly. I didn’t look any different. He began to smile at me. His eyes told me what I wanted to know. His brother’s word were correct. I was his now. I belonged to him, to this family that was ready to lay down their lives for me, all because he had seen me and wanted me.

I kept walking to my car, noticing that I had left the windows down about half an inch. That was stupid of me, I thought as I unlocked the door.

“He’s the wrong man to mate with, miss. Too bad I have to kill you now.”

The voice came from the vicinity of my knee caps. I looked down and saw a little red, ugly, slimy monster. He smiled apologetically, showing a row of razor sharp teeth. “My friends and I can’t resist the price on your head. His whole family has a price on their heads.”

All around me was the sound of fighting. I didn’t look. I didn’t want to see. The short, stubby red monster raised his arm, and I took a step back.

“Sorry,” he said.

My leg lashed out, the spike heel of my boot catching him between the eyes. I pulled my foot back and a great sucking noise came from the monster’s head as my heel pulled free of his flesh. He fell to the ground dead. I quickly opened my car door and got in, starting the engine and trying not to think about the goop that was on the heel of my expensive boots, probably ruining them.

That’s when I noticed another red slimy monster trying to squeeze itself into the car through the half inch opening in the window. I pressed the button and the window closed, cutting him in half. I winced and reached for the button to raise the driver’s side window and cut another monster in half. Gross. I started to put the car in gear when I noticed that the two halves of the two monsters were melding on the passenger seat. Double gross. I scooped them up in my hand before they became something dangerous that I would have to fight off. I opened my window and pushed them out, putting the car in gear and backing over them with a loud squishy pop.

As I drove away, I saw his entire family fighting off the little red monsters. His brothers, his sister, his sisters in law… and him. I rolled past him slowly, my eyes meeting his. The passion, the desire, it was still there, although he was focused on a grim task. I shivered. God, I wanted him so badly.

“I’ll call you later,” he mouthed as he killed another red monster.

My heart soared and I drove right through a line of red monsters, killing them…

Yeah, that was what I was dreaming as the alarm woke me this morning. I so need a shrink.

Feed Me!

Yanno, I took Karl’s words to heart and I went back to my feed reader. Not just because Karl is the voice of sensibility on this issue, but because I’m really not up to clicking 60 freaking links all the time. Anyway, I’m finding that going back to the reader is annoying me. Well, really several things are annoying me. First of all, Feed Demon sucks at updating. I see a bunch of twats on Twitter with updates and I eagerly open Feed Demon. Nothing. I click on the manual refresh. Nothing. Two hours later, I see Karl’s newest post appear on Feed Demon… long after I’ve gone straight to Secondhand Tryptophan outside the reader. I check Newsgator too, which is synced with Feed Demon. Same thing. Lagging SOBs.

The other thing that gets me with using a feed reader isn’t really about the feed reader. It’s about the sites. Karl went into that stuff about feeds and RSS and feedburners. My annoyances are more specific. The big one is comments. Dave2 and Avitable do comments perfectly. Although, Avitable’s “Subscribe to the comments of this muthafucka” isn’t how everyone should offer this service, it IS the right thing to do. Dave2 has a link on his left sidebar for a comments feed. What’s so special about Dave and Adam, you ask (other than the obvious)? Their links are not comments for a specific post. It’s comments for ALL posts. ME LIKEY. This is so freaking easy a blog baby like me can do it!

Really the last thing that annoys me are all the authors out there who want you to READ them, but don’t supply you with a feed link. This is bad marketing. Some of us read A LOT OF BLOGS. A feed reader is a must when you get over a certain number. Everyone should offer a feed link. But most especially, authors should! I can’t believe how many author blogs and sites I’ve seen in the past 5 months who do not have feed or comment links. I WANT TO READ WHAT YOU HAVE TO SAY! HELP ME HERE! I also wanna shoot off emails to all of them, telling them I’ll fix it for them! I would read many more author blogs, and read more frequently, if they all had links to their feeds and comments. It’s so sad that they are missing out on this awesome marketing tool. So those of you without those links, please think about putting them on your blog. I promise to read you more often if you do.

Alright, my little rant is done but the Feed Me part isn’t over with yet. You see, I listened to the New Improved Jester Show on Talk Shoe last night. I wasn’t crazy about the fancy pro app with the chat bubbles. Too busy for me. I went back to the web client and was quite happy. So happy, in fact, that I had the weirdest, most vivid dream about the show and the chat people and a couple of my friends. Here’s how it went:

Jester’s show turned into this big party in a huge mansion. Karl was giving out Secondhand Tryptophan buttons and explaining WJP. Jester was laughing a lot and UMB was making margys and threatening to run naked through the house. Everyone was telling him that wasn’t a threat at all. They wanted to see that! My friend Jen was there handing out chocolate pudding cups. Every time he got one, Dave would go back to the end of the line. (No surprise there!) He must have been worried though because he said he hoped he wasn’t allergic to chocolate pudding. He wasn’t sure he could stab himself with the epi pen…

My friend Greg, who is sorta seeing my friend Jen, showed up at the party then. He said margys were pussy drinks, to which Hilly told him, “Sweet sweet pussy…” In the kitchen, someone had set out a big pan of enchiladas which Greg liked. He told Jen to drink the margys and he’d eat the enchiladas. Dave told Greg, “No pudding for you!” and he took all the pudding cups from Jen. Greg ignored him and asked about the naked gay guy running around. That’s when I noticed UMB had decided he didn’t like his clothes anymore. Jen then told Greg that at least it wasn’t Darrie (who is 6’10”) from Zanctuary running around naked.

Howard was wondering if someone had a camera on UMB. Hellohahanarf was trying to explain to Othurme that she really did have TWO breasts. He didn’t seem to believe her because he kept asking for proof. Jester was so busy with a photo from TSMOregon that he missed UMB’s flashing. He was also praising Talk Shoe and trying to convert Karl and Hilly over to the “light side”. Someone said Mr. Drunkulous was on the phone. Someone was yelling about twats. Someone else was complaining about static and a hush fell over the room when a booming godlike voice said, “Macs are for sissies.” I thought Dave and Jester were going to have an apoplexy, but then Hilly said she found the tiara and I woke up.

I think I’ve been listening to too many Blog Talk Radio shows while talking to Jen in YIM. Have a freaky frakin Friday… TWKS!

Am I Dreaming?

It looks good. So good I’m black and blue. From pinching myself, ya know. Jester is the coolest dude ever. Even if he isn’t the token gay on my blogroll. That’s David from BellyDaddy. Heh. Jester would be my token WP guru. Like the Absurdist, I overpaid him. But that’s because he needs lessons from William Shatner. He’s not very good at this negotiating thing. I’m poor, but even I can afford Jester! Wait. That didn’t come out right. I wonder if UMB is gonna come after me now? Hee hee.

So the dreaming thing is twofold today. First of all, there’s the new house here and the pinching thing. Second, I had my first dream about a blogger and it wasn’t about Fab or Dave. It was about Matt-Man! I’ll get to the dream in a moment. The third thing, is about why I have to go to work today. I keep asking myself, “Am I dreaming? This is nuts. I’m actually going to the office on a Saturday, after I spent two mornings this week at home recharging my batteries?”

Now, I’m gonna be all pooped out again. Check out the Spewage site later today for deets on why I’m going to work today. It’s nothing bad about the company I work for, but I’d rather say this in private. If you don’t know about Spewage, email me.

My Matt-Man dream began with the PITA and I at a Sonic or In-N-Out type burger place. We were devouring mass quantities of yummy hamburgers oozing with cheese and sauce and grease. Matt comes up and sits down next to us. He’s got a cigarette hanging from his mouth (in the restaurant even! gasp!), and he’s wearing jean shorts and a t-shirt and sunglasses. He sticks out one leg and turns it so we can see the back of it. There’s this huge bruise there. The PITA and I gasp.

“What the hell happened to you?” I ask him.

He makes a typical man sound, that half grunt, half disgusted, half “I don’t know how I get myself in these situations” kind of sound. Then he says, “I should have Fab’s tagline. Some bozo tried to kill me.”

The PITA frowns, while munching french fries. “Why would someone want to kill you? Your sense of humor isn’t THAT bad.”

Matt shrugs. “He said his wife was a blogger. She fell in love with my Half Nekkid Thursday pics. He called me a homewrecker.”

The PITA and I look at each other with wide eyes. “Well, how did he try to kill you? Maybe it was some kind of mistake,” I say, not wanting to think that someone would really try to kill Matt.

Matt shakes his head, and ash falls from his cigarette. “I don’t think there was any kind of mistake. He came right at me, his little old Volkswagen rattletrap bug shaking like it had never seen 30 mph before. He was screaming ‘Matt-Man must die!’ out the window.” Matt shrugs again. “He was trying to kill me.”

“Woah,” the PITA murmurs reverently, reaching for her strawberry shake. “Killed for your blog. What a headline.”

Matt stands up and puts out his cigarette on the fomica table top. He rolls his shoulders and looks at the big black bruise on the back of his leg. “It’s a good thing that guy drives an ancient Volkswagen instead of an Escalade or I’d be bumming smokes off of James Dean.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “I’ll catch you all later. I’ve gotta put together my next HNT. I was thinking of having my pic taken on a bulldozer while wearing only my boxers. Just to sort of solidify my position as a homewrecker. Cheers!”

And then he was gone. The PITA looks at me and I tell her, “The things people will do for their blog.”

My daughter snorts. “Not just the blog, Mom. I would totally do some girl in front of Dave for a pack of his playing cards.”

Then I woke up. It was quiet in my house. But I could have sworn I smelled In-N-Out burgers in my bedroom.