Another Tease...

 

 

I will begin this post by asking forgiveness for my absence.  I know I have been gone for a bit.  But in that time I have been working on a few things.  So as an offering to appease you  my darling reader and the Muse, here is a bit of what I have been working on.  I hope you enjoy a story with tall, dark and Latino hero...oh, and a baseball player too. 

 

Here is an excerpt from "The Second Inning."

  "Why did you come?” he asked.

            “Do you want me to leave?” I asked softly.

His response was a tilt of his head, as he rested his chin on the top of his childhood baseball bat which he held between his legs. The light from the afternoon sun cut across the room, lighting him along his right side. His pose had an almost childlike quality, but the mass of muscle and strength in his build and the look of heartache etched across his face belied any pretense of youth.  He wore a crisp white ribbed tank and cotton shorts and to me, he was a vision of perfection. His months at the training camp had enhanced his tan and together with the glow of setting sun coming through the open window illuminating his hazel eyes, gave him a gilded quality that took my breath away.

            I’d dreamt of nothing but him since I’d walked out of this apartment three months ago, when I swore to myself that I’d done it to help him not feel any obligation to me. I wasn’t going to be the thing that held him back. But I knew now as I stood before him, I’d done it to protect myself because I was helplessly and desperately in love with him. The idea of him saying he was leaving me was too much for me to bear, so I beat him to it. I hoped my poker face would hold, because if he told me to go I would shatter where I stood. His eyes traveled the length of my body and I leaned back against the door unsure if my legs would hold me. I let out a shaky breath that I'd been holding.

    "Nate I…”

            “Come here.”

   His voice was deep, low and filled with hurt. I wanted to run to him, but instead I unzipped my jacket and dropped it on the floor near my gym bag by the door. It left me in a hot pink sports bra and spandex shorts. I walked slowly over until I stood before him. He closed his eyes for a moment.   He turned his eyes up to me, the barest hint of a tear in the corner of his eye. He slid his beloved bat his chair and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me close and hiding his face in my abdomen. I buried my hands in his hair and held him close as my breath caught.

Stay tuned for more... Vita

 

  

  

A Spool of Ribbon

As a writer one question that I seem to get asked often is...Where do you get your inspiration?

For me, inspiration or the initial idea behind a story, tends to come at a varied and completely unpredictable moments.  I could use one technique for a story and get an idea instantly and then try the same method for the next story and get nothing. 

But, if there is one way that is the most consistent of them all, it is at night when I am lying in bed listening to the sounds of Brooklyn slowly finding its way to sleep.  Lying there in bed, letting my mind drift, the characters and storylines will eventually come.  In this magical moment, when I am on the cusp between the sleeping and waking world; not quite asleep, not quite awake, inspiration sparks.

It is on the edge of the twilight hours that I can become more receptive to my muse, the universe, inspiration...or whatever you wish to call the spark that leads to creation. 

I can get an idea about a room, a face, a passing glance.  Then bit by bit the ideas build and then come the words...a whisper, a confession, the tilt of a head as a character speaks, a sigh as another listens.  Is it an admission of love or longing?  On and on the questions and story reveals themselves to me and I write.

While this scenario is not always the case of how I get inspired to start a story, it is how more than a few have begun.  Once I have an initial idea, I am able to carry it with me through the days and weeks as I work on a story.  And as each day progresses so do the ideas. 

It is in these moments, in which inspiration unfurls like a spool of ribbon across the floor and I race behind collecting the remnants as it goes, that I am happy.

Vita

Finding My Way...

My journey, like countless others, of becoming a writer has not been easy.  It began when I finally overcame my own trepidation and started writing romance and erotica.  Once I did, it was as though a light had turned on.

It felt so natural.  I'd read what felt like a thousand novels in these genres as a fan before I attempted to write them.  After finishing each one I would imagine alternate endings, or continued the stories in my head.  The stories flowed and I didn't look back.

But my fear of what family and friends would think still held me back.  I was afraid of what their perceptions would be about not just erotica, but romance as a whole.  There are so many people that look down on romance as the black sheep of the literary world.  It's either viewed as the naughty little cousin to serious writing or all fluff and no substance. 

It pains me to say it but, once I did start writing, I hid it from some that are close to me.  And truth be told, of the few people I did work up the courage to share my journey with there were a couple who's reactions were less than enthusiastic.  But growth begets confidence.  As I continue to evolve as a writer, so does my understanding that not everyone will understand or love what I do, and nor should they.

 

I did not start writing to please anyone else but myself.  I started writing because I dream whole stories at night.  During the day the stories whisper in my ear as I ride the train, or while I am standing in line at Starbucks.  The characters are there bumping around in my mind in every quiet moment and even in some not so quiet moments.

People will either love what I write or they will hate it.  But regardless of either opinion, they can not change what I have to say.  Its my path, my story, come what may.

A Tease and a Taste...

I thought I would share a little tease...a bit of a taste...of my short story from the "Tie Me Up" Anthology.

 

"Love on the Line"

 

 “Let me take your coat.” She unbuttoned it without turning to him, letting it slip past her shoulders as she turned.  “I see you got the lingerie I sent you.”

            “I did.”

            Taking her coat, he tossed it on to the same chair as her bag.  Damon swept her hair back off her shoulders, sending shivers down her spine as he moved around her.  She faced him, and he backed her up against the closet door.  Her heart pounded in her ears, from a mixture of fear and excitement.  Running his fingers over her jaw as his thumb skimmed over her bottom lip, he let out a low hum of pleasure.  Slowly he moved his hand further up into the nape of her neck. She licked her lips, and watched as his eyes became heavy with want.  Fisting her hair lightly, he angled her ear to his lips. 

            “Open your mouth wider, and lick your lips again for me.”  She obliged drawing out the movement, reveling in his eyes locked on her mouth.  “Do you know how long I’ve been thinking about those lips?  I wanna see those pretty thick lips…” He tilted his head, eyes locked on her mouth.  “All over me.” 

Her body ignited.  Wet did not even begin to describe what he’d just done to her with just his words.  Her knees felt weak at the mental image of placing her lips over his most delicate parts. 

            “Are you ready for me?” he questioned.

            “Yes.” She panted as he tightened the grip in her hair.  Kissing her hard, his tongue plunged into her mouth finding her own.  Nina felt on the verge of coming just from that penetration alone.  He broke away from her, leading her to the doorway of the bedroom, leaving her standing there alone.  He quickly returned with red satin ties in his hands. 

 

Like what you read?  Want more?  Check out the full Anthology now available in print and ebook.

 http://riverdaleavebooks.com/books/5173/tie-me-up-a-binding-collection-of-erotic-tales

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/s/tie-me-up-Solomon?store=allproducts&keyword=tie+me+up+solomon
http://www.amazon.com/Tie-Me-Up-Binding-Collection-ebook/dp/B00VKNO6II/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1428256329&sr=8-1&keywords=tie+me+up+solomon

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/25277314-tie-me-up-a-binding-collection-of-erotic-tales?from_search=true

The Stories I love...

There are so many love stories that have made me want to write.  Stories that showed me the beauty of the written word.  Stories that left me in awe...heartbroken...in love...and everything in between.  Books that I love and cherished so much I can remember everything about them down to when and where I purchased them.

 

I can still vividly recall strolling on a Saturday afternoon through Hell's Kitchen in New York as a teenager with my boyfriend.  We came upon a flea market.  It was stocked with a million and one random things, some treasures, some junk, and among them I found a stand of used books.  There I purchased for $2, a 1931 a hardcover translation of the play Cyrano De Bergerac By Edmond Rostand.  It was illustrated and had a periwinkle blue cover with a brown leather spine  It was old, fragile and perfect.

I can still remember reading it for the first time.  How my heart broke so completely for Cyrano as Roxane stood before him and professed her love for another.  My innocent heart, still believed that love was magical and enough to conquer all things. How could she not see how much he loved her?  How I wished I could change it and make Cyrano profess his love and win her heart from Christian.      

 "She goes out.  Cyrano remains motionless, his eyes on the ground. Silence."

-Cyrano De Bergerac, Edmond Rostand

But like all great tragic romances it was not to be.  I tell you that I rewrote that story a thousand times in my mind even though I knew deep down I would never change a word.  It is within his heartrending unrequited love that the beauty and sorrow of the human experience revealed itself. 

 

As I've said before my dear Constant Reader, at a certain point in my life I couldn't get enough of tragic romances.  But as young love faded into the haze of memories, my tastes changed and I searched for a new type of romance to reveal in.  And eventually to want to create stories of my own.  

 

But through it all, Cyrano stayed with me.  Made me want to give the all the underdogs of the world their Roxane's to love and to be loved by them in return.  It made me want to create stories that moved people in the same way, and make them believe in the magic of love all over again.

 

-Vita

 

Tethered to you…

I wish I could untie myself from you

To loosen this string that has tethered my rib to yours

I want to not search for you

I want to have a moment’s peace from the thought of you

I want to not long for your presence…

To see you…to touch you…to run my hand down your back

To want to feel your cheek warm against my palm…Rough and unyielding

To run my thumb over your lips…Priming them for my own

But you keep breaking my heart

Over and over and over

And yet I still come back

Again and again and again

Loosen the string or pull it tighter to you

Please…

I know this is my punishment

You told me to choose

Taking my indecision as a lack of adoration…you’ve taken everything

You made me want you

You worked your way in

So coy…so sly…

I didn’t know it until it was too late

I will make you fall in love with me…is what you whispered

How cheesy…how cocky

But you did…and then you turned away

How do I untie myself from this ache at my side

It has brought me to my knees

This is my punishment…this is how you would have me pay

Please…

Loosen the string or pull it tighter to you

You pluck at it…giving me hope

Hope that you would one day glance my way

How do I untie myself?

Please…

You are my vice

I know you’re not right…greater loves await me

But yet I sit here… patiently…longingly…waiting at your feet

Untie this string or pull it tighter to you

You know the power you hold over me

Give me peace

Set me free

Untether this string that connects me to you

Let me crumble in the agony of your loss

Untie this string or pull it tighter to you

Forgive me…love me

Without you I am lost.

 

Eternamente,

Vita

Please check out these other fabulous writers who are also blogging for Valentine's Day

Visit them and find out just how different we are and yet how similar. They are:
Del Carmen writes hot, kinky, satisfying erotica.  Visit her at www.mydelcarmen.com
Also writing as Maria Ferrer at
http://marializaferrer.blogspot.com/2015/02/blog-tour-writers-desk.html
Mercedes Cruz writes fun and kinky erotica based on characters living in New York City. Visit her at www.mercedescruz.

 

 

 

 

Why I Write.

Before I was ever a writer, I was first and foremost, a reader.

At an early age my parents instilled in me a love of books.   Good behavior was rewarded by a trips to the bookstore.  

Even as I write this, I can still recall the feeling of walking through the racks at the Walden Books on Montague Street in Brooklyn.  So many to choose...no Internet or no Google search... just digging through the rows of shelves and finding the one that looked good.

With each book read,  my imagination built new stories of its own.  For me it was a easy extension of all characters I read about and loved.

Now in my late thirties,  I can say with all confidence, I write because of my love of the written word in all its forms.  I write because of after all these years my own characters and stories fill my head day and night.

I write because I always have been and always will be a Constant Reader.   I write because it is an intrinsic part of me. 

I write because I must.