Happy Birthday, Art House!

To celebrate its publication birthday, here is a short and steamy excerpt from my novel The Art House:


Drinking sometimes caused old feelings to resurface and made unwanted tears fall. It was undeniable, though: ever since this adventure had started, she’d had more than a few reminders of times and people she’d tried for years to forget. She passed a kitchen and several other rooms too large for a bathroom and too dark to really see into. Checking behind elaborate doors, she found a number of closets and staircases but no bathroom. Finally, she found a small restroom and after relieving herself, checked her appearance in the floor-length gold-framed mirror that wasn’t hanging but rather propped against the wall at a stylish angle. She rubbed away the smears of makeup under her eyes and tried to recapture some of that buzz which had leaked out through her tears.

On the way back, she passed one of the doors that had led to a secret spiral staircase. Mistakenly, she must have left it ajar. When she moved to close it, she heard a man groan.

Freezing with her hand on the doorknob, she listened again to make sure she hadn’t just been imagining things. Then it came again, this time with a woman’s muffled moan in erotic harmony. Her pulse beginning to race, she slowly peeked into the stairwell.

It was a couple all right, there at the foot of the stairs. A long blonde-haired woman in a flowing green dress had her skirts gathered up around her as she knelt in front of a man, frantically giving him fellatio. The man’s upper body was cast in shadow, but she could make out his longish dark hair and stubble. His eyes were closed, his face twisted in fervent ecstasy. She didn’t recognize either of them as anyone Trixi had introduced her to.

The woman’s head bobbed back and forth, her hand stroking the man’s hard cock, which he’d pulled through his pants. She seemed to be enjoying the event as much as he was. Janelle knew she should give this couple their privacy, even if they were doing this out in public. It was their moment of passion, not hers. Still, she found herself unable to break away, her breath growing shallow.

The man gasped and muttered “faster” in a desperate, guttural tone. Janelle had a strong desire to reach inside of her soft blouse and pinch her hardening pink nipples beneath the shell of her bra. She looked down, ashamed but fascinated. A burst of movement brought heat to her cheeks as she panicked, fearing she’d been discovered. But it was only the man, pulling the woman up from the floor and positioning her on all fours on the stairs. He lifted her skirts, her underwear already down around one ankle. His erection, barely visible in the shadow, arced up from his body like an arrow.

He plunged into the woman. She groaned, and Janelle bit down on her thumbnail, her sex tingling with the strong sweet scent of her own stimulation. She needed to leave them alone, let them have their moment, but she couldn’t move her feet. Their passion was intoxicating, something real, unlike so many of her relationships of late. She could actually feel their lust, the forbidden rush of this secret act trapping her in place. She kept her hand on the doorknob, the other hand slack at her side, though she desperately longed to touch herself.

“Darling, did you hear something?” the woman asked, and they stopped moving.

**Click here for more...**

XoXo

Scarlett

Valentine's Day: My Changing Attitude Over the Years

When I was in high school, I hated Valentine's Day with a passion. My friends and I called it "Single Awareness Day" before the term was popular, and we counted down the agonizing hours until it was over. Often, we'd have to endure all the popular girls squealing with delight as they received cards and chocolate and jewelry and flowers and big heart-shaped balloons, while we sat there at our desks all empty-hearted having gotten nothing. And to make matters worse, all the popular girls got all this affection from the very boys we had mad crushes on! Talk about depressing.

Into my early 20s, I had a little more luck some years for Valentine's Day, but it was still less than ideal. I had a serious crush on my close friend, but she was married and had made it clear she only saw me as a friend. Her gifts were strictly platonic. I remember a couple of guys I dated sort of half-assed the day. Some gave me a gift, and some didn't. They rarely had much time for me on the regular, so they certainly didn't go out of their way to really be romantic on this day. Overall, I was still left feeling "meh." I realized at that point that it wasn't the gift itself I wanted. Instead, it was a symbol I desired, a tangible sign that the guy I was screwing around with wanted more from me than just a great blowjob. I was hoping for something meaningful in the context of a real committed relationship, but the guys I was dating then were not in it for the long haul, so they saw no need to make the day special.

Finally, when I started dating my now-husband, I got the Valentine's Day I had been longing for. I had a little rent house by then, and I happily prepared a dinner of stroganoff with red wine and dessert and candles and had a cute, gigantic card to give him. After he drove up from out of town (we were dating long-distance), he presented me with a beautiful bouquet of red roses and a big heart-shaped tin of chocolates. But it was more than the gifts. The gifts were just a symbol. He gave me his time. He spent the weekend with me. He gave me his body and his heart. Ever since that day, I haven't felt the need to have a special Valentine's Day again, but sometimes I still like to do something romantic.

I understand that a lot of people think Valentine's Day is a corporate holiday meant to sell chocolates and roses and greeting cards, and on one hand, it is. The restaurants are typically packed to the max, and it's really difficult getting reservations. Plus, when you've been married to someone for years and you know that person loves you, it doesn't necessarily feel as imperative that you get treated in any special way on Valentine's Day.

But there still must be some little vestige of that old me who still gets a certain measure of satisfaction knowing I actually have someone worthwhile to spend the day with after all those years of dreading "Single Awareness Day." I think it's important, for me at least, to do something, even if it's picking up a heart-shaped cookie at the grocery store and sharing it while we watch something on Netflix. It's just an added bonus if we dress up and go out.

What about you? Do you prefer to celebrate Valentine's Day, or do you protest it as a money-making scam? No right or wrong answers, of course! And whatever you do this year, be it ignoring the hearts and flowers or embracing them, I hope the day is perfectly celebrated the way you want it to be. ;)

XOXO

Scarlett