As a huge fan of the 1920s - cocktails, flapper dresses, lurking tentacular monstrosities and all - I'm delighted today to welcome Jill Boyd to my blog, to introduce us to her new anthology Flappers, Jazz and Valentino.
Step back in time to a decade full of glamour, glitz and decadent sin with this collection of erotica set in the Roaring Twenties. With twelve stories, in all shades from romantic and sensual to burning hot, this collection is the perfect appetizer for a night out at the speakeasy. A journalist gets a sexy introduction to the sinful syncopation of jazz music. A three-way tango performance becomes the steamiest ticket in town. The owners of a speakeasy set up a very special audition for their new trumpet boy. All this jazz and more in Flappers, Jazz and Valentino, edited by Jillian Boyd.
Lovely to be here on Janine’s blog!
I’m Jillian Boyd, and I’m a writer of erotica and erotic romance with a touch of my own brand awkwardness. I’ve been doing this erotica thing for three years now, and I’ve recently added another string to my bow: I’ve edited an anthology.
The anthology is entitled Flappers, Jazz and Valentino – Roaring Twenties Erotica and is a sexy and saucy ode to the Jazz Age. Eleven authors, twelve stories and one very proud (and tired) editor. So, how did this anthology come about? Why the Roaring Twenties? Let me tell you the story.
Last year, just before my 23rd birthday, I started contemplating trying my hand at editing. I sent an email to my publisher, House of Erotica, and enquired (in a roundabout, “maybe kinda” way) if there was a pitching procedure, if they’d work with first-time editors, that sort of thing. Needless to say, I really wasn’t expecting a positive reply.
So when I actually got one (shock, horror), I set to work on my call for submissions – and deciding on my theme. The theme was the hardest thing to decide on (apart from which stories to put into the anthology, of course). I went through everything I could think of, settled on one thing, and nixed another one... and then I thought of the Twenties. It was an era I’d always been fascinated with – the first bonafide movie stars, the carefree (and loud) Charleston dancing, the flappers... god, always the flappers. Josephine Baker, Tallulah Bankhead, Zelda Fitzgerald... I love them all. Women of a dangerous generation (as it reads on the cover of Judith Mackrell’s book about them and other flappers). Women who, with the mere mention of their names, conjure up such vivid images of that dangerous and subversive age.
Et voila. I had my theme.
I went into editing mode in May, and somewhere in June, an anthology was sent off to House of Erotica. And that anthology is out on the 8th of August. Yay is the operative word here.
I’d love to present you with an excerpt from one of the stories featured. This one is from Life’s a Chocolate Cabaret, by V.C., a delicious and surprising tale which mixes two of my favourite things: chocolate and sex.
Chicago, Illinois. 1924.
The nightclub was more smoking hot than usual. The men were even hotter. Friends, acquaintances, strangers. Beautiful. Different and unique in their own way, but one and the same. The gangsters. I knew some of them in the crowd. Who was I kidding? I knew the majority of them. I didn’t dare say their names, not even in my head. I didn’t have time for an affair with a bullet. Their danger was always a turn-on, but I had a cabaret show to perform. My face was far too fabulous to lose. It was my money maker.
From the looks of it, it was going to bring plenty of bank for me that evening; it was a packed house. Those gangsters – they were suckers for me. Literally. My lips, my ass. My cock. They could suck on me all night long, if and when I allowed it. No matter if he was a gangster I knew or a gangster I didn’t know at all, their eyes were a mimicry. The lust in them, it was a lot of the same. I was more than able to handle their perverted desires mirrored in their lustful glances. They wanted me. And I wanted them. Their cock. Or cocks. In my mouth, and in my ass, if they were lucky.
Again for…who the hell was counting the fuckery? I didn’t only do it with the gangsters. There were the average Joes, the bankers, the brokers, the writers, and the down-and-out amateur film stars still in the search for their big break. They were all there too. They wanted me more. Young or old, I didn’t care. Who was counting how many of them I had? This speakeasy and nightclub was no ordinary one. It was the only one of its kind. It wasn’t for the flappers. It wasn’t for the average Josephines either. No women were allowed. Period. This night life was only for a very special kind of man. It was for men who liked more than liquor, jazz, and gourmet chocolate. They liked boys. A lot.
Cock was their candy. Ass was their aphrodisiac. A shimmy of the tassels on my chest, the wiggle of my bubble bottom, and a crotch grab from a pretty boi like me made them drunker than the excessive amount of liquor they’d consume. The smoke from their fat phallic cigars wasn’t the only veil that surrounded them. It was their hunger for me, and for the other cast members of the show, that always took the cake. We didn’t call our show Life’s A Chocolate Cabaret for nothing. Every man wanted to take a bite. They wanted us to melt in their mouth. They wanted to taste our flavour, as sweet as the decadence of honey and chocolate combined. But first, before they’d have their fill of all the candy they could eat, the show must go on.
Flappers, Jazz and Valentino is published by House of Erotica
Here's the full line-up:
The Dance Partner – Lola White
Aboard the Aquitania – Brent Archer
The Sin in Syncopation – Blacksilk
Life’s A Chocolate Cabaret – V.C.
A Gal’s Gotta Make a Living Somehow… – T.G. Haynes
The Nympho – Angela R. Sargenti
Modern Motoring – Eva Starling
Songbird – Blair Erotica
Limelight and Gin – Sasha Distan
Tooting The Trumpet Boy’s Horn – V.C.
Genuine Chemistry – Annabeth Leong
The Argentine Tango – Tabitha Kitten
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