Thursday, 14 June 2012
Excerpt: No Running, No Petting
My poolside m/m/f story No Running, No Petting is out TWICE OVER from Xcite Books - as the lead story in Foreign Affairs: erotic relations in exotic locations (out TODAY - at least in theory - in paperback, also already available on Kindle), and as one of 5 stories taken from that anthology and published in a smaller collection as an e-book: No Running, No Petting.
Here's an excerpt:
Lena and Vittor work in a hotel in Malta, but they can't focus on clearing tables and making beds, when what they're really both interested in is the male guests. The two of them hunt together, the perfect pair. And when they spot Rolf, a Swedish silver fox, the scene is set for a threesome and some very naughty poolside fun.
The other great thing about the roof garden is that no one can see in.
When I go up that day, Room 406 is already on his sun-lounger, tapping a pencil against his upper lip as he reads his papers. Vittor is waiting behind the bar, ready to lock the stair door as I put on a distraction. I do my best: I’m wearing only a tiny bikini of brilliant yellow lycra. I know how it draws the eye. I’m short, but there are deep curves to my hips and arse and waist. I shake out my long dark hair and stride over to the pool, my breasts jiggling enticingly with every step.
I can feel his eyes on me. But at first I ignore him. I slip into the aquamarine water and do some lazy widths on my back, rolling every so often to show off my bum in its yellow thong. Whenever I put a hand on the pool edge and look covertly in his direction, pretending to catch my breath, Room 406 is watching me.
Then Vittor comes out and joins in, stripped down to his red trunks. We make a helluva contrast; him so big and me so little, but both of us bronzed and glistening, both young and beautiful. We giggle and play together, splashing and kissing. Maybe you remember those old signs they used to have around public poolsides – No running, no petting, no ducking –? Well, we break all those rules. I wriggle out of Vittor’s arms and haul myself out of the pool, squealing as he chases me to try and swat my arse.
Ever seen a dog chase something past another dog? Dog number two can’t help but join in. I run in a little too close to our engineer and then stumble, tripping into him: he puts out his arms to catch me. Part of him thinks he’s saving me from a fall, but I know what his underlying instinct is.
‘Sorry!’ I gasp, landing in his lap. I’ve been told his English is good. ‘Oh, I’m sorry! I’ve got you all wet!’
I’ve got him all hard too. It’s not subtle, I know, but what man likes subtle? He’s got shorts on and his legs are tanned and muscular – I just bet he cycles and skis to work at his factory or his university or whatever it is back home. But he’s got a stiffy under those shorts and it’s poking me.
Vittor stands a few metres back, grinning.
‘That’s OK,’ Room 406 says hoarsely, his hands still on my waist.
‘What’s your name?’
‘Hi, Rolf. I’m Lena. And that’s Vittor.’
‘He is your boyfriend?’ Rolf is a bit confused, and a bit nervous.
I giggle and shrug, which is about as accurate as it gets. ‘Want to join us in the pool?’
He hesitates, then nods. He can’t stop looking at the pool water beaded on my breasts, and my nipples poking up through the yellow bikini fabric. I give him a good flash of my arse as I stand, though, and lead the way to the water’s edge, barely giving him time to shed his shirt and glasses. ‘First one to catch me ...’ I call, and dive.
Buy at Xcite Books
Foreign Affairs on Kindle No Running, No Petting on Kindle (Amazon US)
Foreign Affairs in paperback Foreign Affairs on Kindle No Running, No Petting on Kindle (Amazon UK)