Solutions, yes?!

Happy Weekend Gang!

This week I'm bemused by Pris and the stories we're working on.  Between end of the month, home front, and day job, I'm writing in spurts that leaves me dreaming about the books.  Talk about alien road maps!  Sleep and I have a date. 

The lyrics for the Peak's anthem are coming together. I hope to post them before next weekend.  I'm out of pocket next weekend learning about plotting and editing.  I've heard there's a cross dressing formal party in the offing as part of the music festival going on.  Vernon and Miss Elly are having fun coming up with their outfits.  Tyburn keeps saying his kilt is not a skirt.  Rachel just tells him he needs to wax his legs.  And the fun keeps happening.  When this one comes home to roost I bet its gonna be a hoot.

Remember to share a good book or two with your loves and spices.  I know I will!


Until next week,

Solara

Friday Fun...

Caption This!

How about a little silly Friday fun.  Looks like this kitten as made it's way into Talbot's Peak.  I wonder what she's thinking?

"Why didn't someone warn me!  I-Is that a s-s-snake!  In a wig?"

What do you think?  What's Miss Kitty saying to you?

~~~

Have a wonderful weekend!

Serena

The Countdown Has Begun!

Quick hit-and-run post today. Life is all kinds of nuts at the moment. But there is good news on the "Witch's Moon" front. I got it back from my last beta reader just in time to make a few minor changes. With any luck, I'll have it off to the editor tomorrow, though it might not be ready until Saturday. That's actually fine since my scheduled editing reservation was for the week of June 1st. Depending on how badly the editor rips me, I might have this sucker ready for a "Christmas in July" release. It'll be on Kindle only at first due to their new pricing scheme. (I only get 70% of the royalties if I go exclusively with them for the first 60 days...) After that, I will put it up at ARe and Smashwords.

That's about all I've got for now. Time to go back to trying to convince my niece and nephew to go the f**k to sleep...

~ Rebecca

...kick down the castles...

Pic from ~northernstarart~

Rain, Rain howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Again, since my writing time is so limited these days, here's another sneak peek from a raw, 'unedited' chapter of my SHAPESHIFTER SEDUCTIONS WIP -- starring my winged horse heroine, Keina, and her more-than-human hero, Drev. Right now, they are enjoying Thanksgiving day together, and are dining in Drev's 'out of the way' survival cabin home. ... oh, and they're learning more about each other.
~~~

End of Chapter-seven ~

"Dressing in my world often reminds me of the actors in your movies. They dress the part."

Drev gave a nod, then asked, "No movies in your world?"

"No movies. We have entertainment venues and theatrical plays, which most often depict our history. Perhaps, it is because we have viewing crystals."

"Viewing crystals?" Drev buttered a roll.

"They're similar to those big TV screens, but are crystal. We can view any happening in the past, or any public event." Keina paused, and after a flip of her hair, she added, "Including what you would call sports."

"Wow." Drev's eyebrows shot for the sky. "Wowser." An instant later he scowled, "Is it one way viewing, or like a two-way mirror?"

Keina leaned back tilting her head in thought. "Oh, I understand. You mean like the big-brother televisions here." She grinned wickedly. Her inner horse shook her woman's body in defiance -- as if she shook dust off her coat.

"No," Keina continued as a firestorm burst inside her, "we would know if that ever happened, given our psi abilities. Every one of us would morph, and go kick down the castles of whomever was involved."

Chapter Twenty-eight ~ Drev Zander

"Good plan. I like that kicking down idea." Drev splashed a bit more wine into his Keina's glass. "I've often wondered what the outcome would be, if humankind suddenly awakened to their psi powers. If the shadow government could no longer hide their secrets. Their darkest sins."

Drev watched his beautiful woman hesitate. Her expression changed to one of complete seriousness, and she gently tossed her mane of hair again. "Mind chaos, as we would describe it."

"You can't handle the truth." Drev quietly spoke as his insides became fiercely turbulent. Realizing he'd taken their T-day celebration in a dark direction, he reversed course. "I apologize, sweetheart. This was supposed to be a joyous occasion. Only."

His women silently regarded him for a moment or two. "It can't be helped, stud man. There is a black cloud of evil over Earth...right now." She sighed, deep and long. "I know you have a circle of witches at Dante's underground castle. I've seen their good energies at work...in the ethers. That is, whenever I fly in that area of the sky."

"Yes, our gathering of good witches...for a few years now, they've arrived. We also have several remote viewers." Drev slid his foot out of his loafer, tenderly covering her little foot. "On the cyber-tech side, we're recruiting the best and brightest -- as they say -- inside the para-shifter world, and as fast as possible."

"I will help in any way in your defense." The earnest, determined expression in his Keina's gaze zoomed straight to Drev's heart. "Invisibility and flight are very useful at times."

"Yes." Drev just had to grin, somewhat tickled by the warrioress face his filly girl now wore. "Very useful against enemies of the Peak," he emphasized on a solemn note. Already envisioning battle scenarios, as he'd been trained to do when in the military, he added, "Dante, his inner circle...all of us are doing are damn best to cover all the bases. Not easy in these times."

"We would make a good team, I believe." The fearless gleam in his woman's eye convinced Drev.

"We would." He offered his hand, embracing hers when Keina clasped hands with him. He placed several soft kisses in the center of her palm.

As he released her hand, she leaned, stretching over the table to stroke her fingertips along his jaw. "I love the feel of you, Drev."

"Softer than a lover's eye," he sang in a raspy whisper, as she moved back from him. Hell, he felt as though he stood on a mountain top, lit up by the brilliance of the sun. But on the inside.

"That is so poetic, my Drev." Beaming at him, Keina gave an excited little shimmy.

"I can't claim those poetic words, sweetheart. But you inspired my memory. It's a lyric from John Denver's song, Rocky Mountain High."

"You have a poetic soul. And a good memory. You will have to introduce me to this musician."

"Sad to say, Keina, he died long ago...passed on to the immortal realms after his plane failed and crashed." To counter another downer, Drev slid his chair back and stood. "I have a surprise."

"Really?" Keina bounced a bit in her chair, her gaze radiant with anticipation.

"No fair using your psi power, either. To find out," Drev bantered, even as he whipped around toward the fridge.

"My mind is a blank," she primly promised. "Besides, you'd feel it if I scanned your thoughts."

Striding quickly, Drev opened the fridge door retrieving the bowl of apple walnut salad he'd made while Keina showered. The recipe was another one of his mother's favorites, and a Thanksgiving day standard when he was growing up.

"I smell cut apples," she trilled as he approached.

"It's the apple pie," Drev teased.

"No, I smell grapes, celery, cream, honey...and what do you call it? Mayonnaise?"

"Evidently you can't fool a filly's nose." Drev removed one of the empty dishes, set it on the nearest counter, then placed the bowl of creamy salad on the table.

"I'll put some on your plate, Drev." She eagerly spoke, already plunging in a large spoon.

Amused by Keina, Drev laughed before seating himself again. She'd rapidly spooned a heaping helping for him, and was piling the salad on her plate.

~~~~~~


Wishing you love and passion on the wild side ~ 

Savanna 

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Never Too Late

"Happy birthday to me," Sandra sang bitterly to herself while she cruised her aging Toyota up Route 15. Today, at precisely 5:14 p.m., she would turn thirty-six. She had a career of sorts—manager of one of the chain motels at the Talbot's Peak exit—and a comfortable if uneventful life. All she lacked was someone to share it with.

Countless blind dates set up by well-meaning friends, an endless circuit of the limited bar scene, and one disastrous incident stemming from an online dating site had finally convinced Sandra her personal Prince Charming must have taken a different ramp off the interstate. Once a girl passed thirty, statistics said she stood a better chance of being shot by terrorists than she did of finding a man. No handsome stranger was going to ride up on a white horse and sweep her off her feet.

So screw it. Screw the bars, screw the catfish-infested waters of InstaDate.com, screw that loser cousin of Franny's and that arrogant asshat Betsy had sort of known back in high school. This birthday was the end of the line.

To celebrate her climbing out of the dating pool, she resolved to do something different. Something daring. Something completely on her own. After living in the area for four dry years, she was finally going to visit Talbot's Peak.

She'd been warned against this, of course. "The people are weird out there," all the locals told her. What kind of weird, she wanted to know. Here the stories conflicted. Some said survivalists. Some said back-to-nature hipsters. Franny was convinced they were vampires. Sandra knew for sure they had an ice cream shop, a bakery, and a town square. If she could find a park bench to sit on with ice cream and cake, maybe even a Memorial Day parade, she was willing to give the town a shot.

So what if a mammoth had charged up this very road last year, straight for the town? How often did things like that happen? Just stay away from the biker bar, Sandra told herself. Everything was going to be fine. Maybe even fun.

The sight of colorful balloon animals tethered to the lampposts around the square immediately got her hopes up. That the animals depicted by the contorted balloons were mostly representations of predators didn't strike her mind until later. Rather than fight the foot, hooved and wheeled traffic circling the square—as always, the cars stalking unwary parking spaces reminded her of buzzards—Sandra took advantage of the Parking $2 Benefits the Beavers opportunity set up at City Hall. She handed over a pair of ones to an eight-year-old with huge buck teeth, while wondering who the Beavers were. Probably the local Scout troop.

By the time she'd strolled the block to the square she was definitely feeling much better. What a lovely little town! And the quaint storefronts! Not a chain store or corporate logo in sight. After four years working at the commercialized exit strip, her heart was hungry for small-town America.

Although, given the number of hips and shoulders she bumped on the jam-packed sidewalks, she had to wonder just how "small" the Peak was. And what was in the water. More than one man, and every single woman, growled at her over each inadvertent collision. Literally growled. Except for the tall blonde in the cowboy hat and the snakeskin boots, who hissed. It was like they could smell she was a stranger here, and resented her invasion of their turf.

Screw 'em. She was celebrating.

Sandra found the ice cream shop with no trouble, and patiently stood in line to get her dish of mint chocolate chip. With sprinkles. Today was her birthday. Live large.

While she stood on the sidewalk, back pressed against brick and spooning the delicious ice cream into her mouth, she gazed around and over all the sheepskin coats and Stetsons in search of the bakery. Get a cupcake? Oh hell, get a slice. Chocolate cake with peanut butter icing. Might as well go for it. Would they stick a candle in it? Wouldn't hurt to ask.

Ah. There was the bakery, across the square. Sandra dumped her empty plastic dish in a trash bin and stepped off the curb, her full attention trained on her destination. The thud of hoofbeats on blacktop was so common here in Montana she didn't pay any attention to it.

The yells and the whinnies, however, that she heard.

One moment she was crossing the street and anticipating moist chocolate cake on her tongue. The next, people were screaming, "Watch it! Look out! Somebody help the monkey!"

Monkey? Sandra stared about and finally noticed, not monkeys, but three horses pounding toward her, in spite of a lot of rough hauling on reins from their desperate riders. She froze in the middle of the street, too stunned to move.

One of the three abruptly changed tactics. He urged his mount forward, ahead of the other two. Before she could react, or even make a sound, he reached out, caught her around the waist, and lifted her easily into his saddle. He never even slowed. Sandra clung to him, her mind a blank, while he maneuvered the horse out of the square.

Once they'd reached a relatively clear stretch the cowboy eased his horse into a canter, then a jolting trot, and finally to a standstill. Sandra stared dizzily into his face. Cowboy? Given his dark skin, long raven's-wing hair, and chiseled cheekbones and chin, better make that Indian. My God he's handsome were the first words that popped into her brain. She nearly said them aloud.

Just then the horse gave a little buck, no doubt in protest of its suddenly-doubled load. A yelp blurted out of her instead.

The man said something in a lilting foreign tongue. Then he corrected himself, with a brilliant smile full of white, powerful teeth. "Ah. Must remember. English here. This is America. Are you all right? Have you been injured?"

Sandra's whirling mind made a hasty re-assessment. Indian, yes, but not Native American. "I'm … " she started, then halted, unsure how to finish. Okay? In shock? Sitting on a strange man's lap on horseback in public? He smiled at her patiently. She became aware that something else was growing, and it wasn't the saddle horn.

All at once it occurred to her a handsome prince of a stranger on horseback had just swept her off her feet. She said the only words her tongue would form. "Happy birthday?"

LIFE ON THE ROAD: ROUGHING IT WITH FAMLY AND FIRENDS

Gill tiptoed to the edge of the tent.  He stopped, glancing back over his shoulder.  Louie lay on his back snoring louder with each breath.  Vernon lay curled up in wolf form on top of his sleeping bag.  Back in the last corner, Phil lay burrowed somewhere inside his sleeping bag.  Camping and the great outdoors. . .enough to make a squirrel. . .

“Horny,” he muttered, leaning down to unzip the tent flap.  His gonads could wait until the trip home for any sexual relief.  Chloe, Miss Ellie, Gladys, and Bettina slept in the other close-by tent.  In between the two tents sat Rachel and Tyburn’s tent like they chaperoned the group.  The kids bunked with the women in the largest tent of the three.  

Gill made his way out of the tent, savoring the quiet.  Louie’s snoring masked the other sounds of the night that most of them took for granted.  Strange animals and an unfamiliar section of the mountain might have left them sleepless until Vernon morphed and howled loud enough to stop the crickets from chirping.  Gill snorted as he made his way to the pine tree closest to the tents.  He unzipped his shorts and squatted.  Letting nature takes its course he wondered if they’d get back to town any time soon.

Driving back from their week long trip to the nude beach, a stalled weather front blocked access to the main highway back to town.  Three nights in a hotel had set nerves on edge.  Games and books kept civility going until the fourth day.  The hotel’s proprietor suggested they try the campgrounds two miles up the road.  Hastily procured camping gear from the local thrift store and here they were.  And here they’d likely be for several days more since the rain and flooding washed out two of the back roads they might have used.  

Gill stood up and fastened his shorts.  As he walked back to the tent, he hummed the tune Vernon and Louie were penning.  An anthem for the Peak sung to the melody of When the Saints Go Marching In.  Music rolled through the camp each night thanks to the banjo, harmonica, bongos, and guitar they picked up at the thrift store too.  Roughing it was okay.  They ate, slept, and made do with what they had.  Home had its allure and would be wonderful when they returned them.  For now, things were pretty good the way they were.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

HAPPY WEEKEND GANG!

Our group finds themselves on the trip that doesn't stop.  I'm wondering what lyrics this group came up with.  As soon as Pris reveals them to me, I'll share.  What adventures await the gang next you ask?  Not sure.  Maybe we get them back at the Peak for the festival and sharing their penned anthem for the town.

Enjoy the holiday weekend and start of summer.  Keep safe, dry, and sane.  Remember to share a few good books with your loves and spice.  I know I will!

Until Next Week,

Solara

Finding His Sex Pet

Quickening howls and yowls, shapeshifter lovers.

Gosh time is passing like a speeding bullet. So, here's the next flash scene from my space fantasy WIP that was featured on April 7, and was titled: His Sex Pet
To repeat as an intro...
This idea for an erotic romance sprang at me one night during that twilight time before sleep. Anyway, here's a rough-draft opening to my space fantasy story, starring Sabrah and Commander Droz. Their story could easily be connected to Talbot's Peak since Dante's Interspecies Pleasure Club is known throughout the galaxy.

~~~~~~

Finding His Sex Pet

Curbing his raw impatience, and silently cursing the enlarged, throbbing state of his cock, Commander Droz strode through the pavilion's open-air entrance. Resplendent in outward appearance, the slave-commerce structure resembled a potentate's harem quarters – many which were still on the surface of the planetworld, Ovvabia. Although, in current times, the palatial buildings were entertainment centers featuring the artistic talents of women. 

Droz's long quick stride carried him to the red ecstasy room, one of the center cubicles in the humanoid female section. Wispy trails of an exotic incense, meant to heighten carnal need, caused his nose to twitch. He snarled under his breath as his breeding shaft lengthened again. 

The very instant he'd been in communication range, Droz had contacted the infamous sex slave vendor, arranging for details and images of the available women. Hoping against hope that the first female he'd chosen would suit him, he paused to briefly perform a standard greeting to the spindly, gray-green skinned negotiator. 

Returning the gesture, the man immediately motioned for Droz to enter. Already the woman's sweet-musk fragrance tormented, and to his mind, begged for the plunder of his cock. 

Desperate for relief, Droz entered the chamber, an over-lavish affair, and forced himself to halt. Even as his inner, mating-crazed panther leaped, he rooted his boot-clad feet to the slick stone floor, staring.  He drank in the sexually beautiful picture before him. 

Now carnal torture took over. Supine and wrist-bound on a bed of soft large pillows, the female did not look up.  He knew it was because she refused to acknowledge his presence.  As Droz understood it, she'd been unwillingly sold by her family to pay a debt. 

The soul-lost fools, he contemptuously thought. Yet, if she took his cock well enough, the female would have a good home with him. 

Attired in semi-transparent swathes of silky cloth, her generous curves, her small circle of a waist more than pleased his eye. As the images had depicted accurately, her fiery red tresses flowed around her reminding him of the gentle ebb and flow of sea waves.  

A perfect contrast for the bright flaming color of her hair, her creamy, gold-flecked skin was also sensually pleasing, and far more lovely than the holo-images had been able to recreate. It mattered not that the female wasn't a shifter breed. In truth, Droz prefered his sex pet to remain naked flesh. 

Thus, he could stroke and fondle her at will. 

Her eyes, he wanted to see her eyes -- the color, the expression within their depths. Droz unrooted his feet and slowly approached. When her gaze still refused his, he bent at the waist, and lightly touched beneath her chin. 

With insistence, yet keeping his handling of her gentle, Droz raised her face to his.  His heart instantly jumped, as if he'd been startled as cat, and sprang upward  to escape an enemy.  In his homeworld jungles, enemies to his kind were numerous and brutally fierce. 

Her face, the unique loveliness, hypnotized him. Then her eyes captured him. Defiant, yet resigned to her fate, she gazed at him full on. 

Droz couldn't help but notice the deep well of sadness within the female's eyes. At the same time, the two aquamarine glistening pools entranced him with their beauty. 

Using one of his para-abilities, Droz searched her soul. The woman was a rich tapestry of experience. Wherever she'd come from -- her homeworld had not been divulged -- her life had not been simple nor protected. 

Even as he studied her, her scent altered, becoming more deliciously complex. Her gaze flared, then blazed splendidly with sudden anger. 

Droz let the corners of his mouth tilt upward in a smile. "Spirit is to be prized in a sex pet." He spoke in a language he'd been informed she understood. 

"Sex pet," she spat at him. "I am no one's pet." 

"You are now, my pretty one." After a split second pause, he added, "Unless the fit of my cock cannot be accomplished." 

She blanched white, the flames in her eyes swiftly lessening. 

Without another word, or another thought, Droz gripped her shoulders hauling her upward. Every inch of him turned stone hard with sheer, ferocious lust at the feel of her. Momentarily, the shiver and shake of her bountiful breasts transfixed him. 

He trapped the back of her neck with one hand, and in one motion bent her over  the smooth granite stand to be used for acts of sex. Hardly aware of his actions, Droz swept away the silken fabric so her ass was bared to him. 

In a breeding haze, he loosed his cock, never removing his gaze from her pale gorgeous rump. He inserted one finger testing her wetness. Good, the female liked his handling of her whether she admitted it or not.
Droz plunged his crown inside her ripe red sex.

~~~~~~


Wishing you love and passion on the wild side ~ 

Savanna 

Savanna Kougar ~ Run on the Wild Side of Romance

Monday Filler

The flash scene well dried up in the wake of my self-published release of The Mountain Lion King last week (shameless plug), so here's the beginning of an M/M I'm fooling around with for an anthology featuring alphas behaving badly. In this case, there are two of them. Since they're both shapeshifters and this is a shapeshifter blog, I figured what the heck.

# # #

The smell of hot fresh blood got Declan up and moving again. He took a step and bit his lip against a whine of pain. He needed meat. Given his injuries, there was no guarantee when he'd be able to make a kill on his own. Right now even the chance of regaining human form was iffy.

Following the enticing lure of blood, the battered wolf staggered to the edge of the forest. Something must have made a kill in that field out there. Declan swept his fuzzy glare across the open meadow but couldn't see a goddamn thing.

Then a small head dominated by huge bright eyes and a hooked yellow beak popped up above the tips of the tall grass for a quick look-see. Declan froze. His muscles screamed at him and his demands they not shiver. Oh fuck, now that bite on his haunch was starting to bleed again.

After what seemed like centuries to Declan's aching muscles, the hawk dipped its head back below the grass. The shudders of the stalks hinted at violence within, a sharp beak and razor talons ripping something apart.

Saliva frothed with blood dripped from Declan's jaws. He needed that kill badly, far more than any stupid bird. He burst from the forest and charged toward where he'd seen the hawk's head appear.

Halfway there the bird itself suddenly erupted from the grass with a gutted rabbit in its claws. The rabbit's weight battled the hawk's efforts to bear it aloft. Declan zeroed in on the bloody prize and leaped. At the last second the hawk abandoned its catch and zoomed with empty claws into the air and safety.

Declan caught the rabbit in his jaws before it hit the ground. He gulped down still-warm flesh and felt renewed energy surge through his throbbing body. When only shreds were left on the bones, he took the chance and willed himself to shift.

His ripped and bitten flesh resisted his demand it rearrange. Declan gnashed his jaws against the agonizing protest put up by his abused skin and tissues. In the end his howl burst free, but it finished as a human scream. He fell to his knees and elbows and panted hard into the dirt.

Well, this was some improvement, at least. His limbs still shot blistering pain up and down his nerves when he moved, but the shift had sealed the worst of his wounds. Most of the bleeding had slowed to an annoying seep. Declan shoved himself upright and succeeded in gaining his feet on his second attempt. So far, so good.

Next up: find a place to hide. Get a good night's sleep. Find water, find more food. Meat would be best, berries and roots if he had to. Then march back onto clan territory and kill that bastard Seth. With his bare hands if necessary, though fangs would be so much more satisfying.

He turned toward the woods, straight into a fist that smashed into his chin. His battered body hit the ground with a jarring thud. The world, so briefly back in focus, started spinning again.

"Excuse me," a sharp voice said from above him, "but that was my dinner."

THONGS REQUIRED?!

And the sign read “Thongs Required”.  Gill swallowed hard, looked over his shoulder to where Vernon McMahon, Louie, and several others from the Peak stood buck ass naked.  Even their wives and girlfriends sat back on the beach nude.  Who the hell had put up a sign bearing such?

“How do we comply with this?” Louie asked moving forward.  “I mean it’s a nude beach.  It’s not like we’re going to have those stuffed in a back pocket.”

Vernon clapped his hand over his mouth.  It didn’t do much good.  Gaffs of laughter spilled out.  Gill watched Phil walk up to the sign point at it and then boldly give it the finger.  The bird as some referred to the middle finger cheer many humans used as they drove down the highway of life. 

“Gentlemen,” Tyburn began as he reached the group.  “We’re heading to the bar for drinks and food, aren’t we?"

“We were.  Until that.”  Gill pointed at the sign five hundred yards from the bar.  The overhead sun blocked a clear view into the outdoor bar.  How many patrons complied with the posted requirement couldn’t be determined.  

Tyburn looked back to where Rachel stood shielding her eyes.    She motioned to him with a ‘come here’ wave.  He held up one finger.  Facing back to the group, he asked, “Where do we find those?”

Phil moved back even with the group, opening his mouth ready to speak when  a semi-clad woman walked past them and stopped within a few feet.  She leaned over, sat down the bag she carried and shimmed out of the thong bottom of her bathing suit.  Never mind she was topless.  She stood up, picked up the bag, after bunching her bathing suit bottom in her other hand, and took off trotting down the beach.

Gill didn’t bother to chastise the others standing next to him with their mouths hanging open.  No doubt his gaped in the wind with theirs.  Two men walked out, stopped approximately the same place the woman had.  Each wore swimwear.  Moments later they didn’t.  Their swimwear, gripped in their hand, flapped in the breeze as they strolled toward the shoreline and where their families probably lounged.  

“This is beginning to be a real undertaking,” Phil muttered.

Louie grinned, and pointed as two middle-aged couples walked up.  The men stopped short of the sign, shook out what appeared to be swimwear from the tote bags they carried.  The women with them did the same.  Each pulled the bottoms on.  Tyburn, Phil, Gill and Louie all groaned as they walked away.  The men’s covered fronts weren’t at issue nor were the women’s covered crotches.  Their backsides left plenty to continue catching the air.  

Vernon motioned the group to him.  “Look there’s a swim suit shop down the beach.  Let me procure what we need.”

The group agreed and handed him part of the money they had intended for buying lunch. 

Back out on the beach, Elly and Chloe gathered up the children.  “I thought the guys would be back with food by now,” Phil’s wife Gladys said.

“Me too,” Rachel chimed in.  “Tyburn gets antsy when his stomach growls.”

“I’ll check on them if you like,” Elly offered, pulling on her bathing suit bottom.

“I suspect we all need to go check on them,” Chloe stated putting on her bottom as well.   

Soon the four bottom clad women faced toward the area where the bar and shops marked the start of the beach.  “Bettina are you going with us?” Elly asked pausing near the second sun umbrella close to their belongings.

“Not in that heat and sun.  I’ll be charcoal in seconds.”  Bettina picked up the tube of sunscreen and lathered more on.  “I’ll stay with the kids.  They’re all conked out right now.”  Close to her lay the triplets and twins along with Phil’s kids, eyes shuts as their chests rose and fell indicating they slumbered.

The women made their way to the bar and strolled inside.  Three feet in and off to their right sat their men folk.  Clad as the sign required.  Four sets of male not quite bare arses sat at the bar.  Their towels hung over the bar stools as they perched very precariously on the cool metal stools.  Chloe pointed as she leaned close to the other women saying, “Gee lace and red do become them don’t you think?”

Elly nodded smiling, as did Rachel and Gladys.  The men each wore dark red lacy women’s thong panties.  Elly spoke as the women grouped around her.  “Vernon has a hard time judging sizes and letting a practical joke pass by.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

HAPPY WEEKEND GANG!

Never a dull moment with our gang from the Peak.  Let's hope the joke doesn't back fire on Vernon.  Of course all of them did put their red lacy thong panties on.  I hope you enjoyed your giggle as much as I enjoyed mine writing this.  Who's to say that unisex panties don't have a future?

Enjoy the warm weather and stay safe.  Those sudden storms are deadly some times.  Remember to share a good book or two with your spice as you stay safe and warm.   I know I am.

Until Next Week,

Solara

Trust Me...

Penelope walked along the front of the room, her fingers slid, first, along the smooth wood of the massive cross, remembering a naked Burgess and the first time she tied him to it…

“So, let me get this sorted, you intend to tie me to this cross – naked – then whip me bum?” the look on his face was one of interest.

“No, my blue-haired penguino, I’m going to cuff you to the cross, with the softest leather cuffs.  Then I’m going to flog you first, and follow it up with a crop that will make your ass tingle in the nicest of ways.”

“No whip then?”

“Nope, you’re not yet ready for the bull whip.”

That was a good day.  She’d reddened his ass well with the short diamond-shaped crop, then kissed it all better before allowing Burgess to bring her to orgasm…orally.  A few days later, he’d returned the favor by bending her over the spanking bench and introducing his palm to her cheeks…

“What are we doing back here, Burgess? It’s too soon to have another go at your ass…”

“We’re not here for me Pen, this time, it’s your bum that’ll glow a rosy hue.”  He lifted an eyebrow and patted the bench, waiting for me to assume the position.

“And what makes you think your Domme will allow such a thing?”

“This is not a Dom speaking to her sub, Penelope.  This is two switches speaking to each other.” 

He’d surprised her that day, so early in their relationship, with his knowledge of her deepest secret.  She loved being a Domme, but for him, she longed to submit, as well. 

“Is everything the way you want it, Penelope?”

Surprised by the quiet question, Penelope turned to greet her friend.  “Yes, Dante, thank you.  Everything looks perfect for the gathering.”

“Very good.  And I think you’ll find, Edina is immensely skilled at her art.”

“Yes, there are whispers around town that she brings much success to her ‘customers’.  My hope is that she’ll open up and tell the other Doms of this town her true agenda.”

“Is that really necessary?”

Penelope looked over at Dante, “yes, it really is.  Dom’s and Domme’s support on another in this town and we want to support her too.  First though, she needs to be honest with us.”

“Agreed.  I’ll leave you to it then.”

As he turned to leave, Penelope fought her urge to demand answers, but one slipped out.  “Is he safe, Dante?  Really and truly safe?”

Without turning Dante said, “As safe as he can be, Penny, and he’ll be home soon.”

As he stepped from the room, Penelope sank to the base of the spanking bench and softly wept.  She believed Dante, for he’d never lied to her.  Burgess would return.  Until that time she would hold tight to the words he’d whispered in her ear as he’d laid her over the bench…

“Trust me with your secret, my sweet submissive, and we shall forever be one…”

~~~

Just a short bit from me today.  May you forever trust and be one with your love.

Serena

The Mountain Lion King is now available!

It's here! Rebecca beat me to the punch by pre-reviewing yesterday, but I wrote this blog and, by Castiel, I'm going to post it. My first self-published Talbot's Peak novel, The Mountain Lion King, is now up at Smashwords and Amazon. It should be up on Barnes & Noble, Apple, and your favorite e-book outlet within a week or so.

Cougar shifter Rick Donnelly is happy living alone on his mountain and isn't looking for company. Then company literally falls into his lap, in the form of tiger-shifter Nilambari, who's fleeing from her arranged marriage to the vicious Ravi Ghan. Rick has no love for tigers, but for this terrified tigress he's willing to make an exception. Provided he can defend them both from Ravi, who's not about to let his bride-to-be go without a fight.

Regular readers will know this book began as a series of posts here on the blog. The original, now-rewritten opening can be found here. Plus, here's a new snippet to whet your appetite:

Excerpt

Rick stepped in from a night in the foyer and stopped dead. Now here was something you didn’t wake up to every day: a woman trying to wipe the dirt off cave walls. She’d already swept the floor. He could easily picture the bedchamber scrubbed to within an inch of its life, the bed neatly made. “You’re up early,” he said cautiously.

“You’re up late,” she countered. She continued to dust and straighten. “Would you like tea?”

“No tea.” He stared about. Son of a gun, it really did look better in here. But just the same … “You don’t need to do this. Really.”

“I do,” she said. “Really. Do you never clean in here?”

“It’s a cave. You can’t clean a cave.”

“You can make it cleaner. This also.” She reached into a pile she was building on a chair and held up one of his shirts. “This needs to be washed, and the others too, and my own clothes. The sheets should be changed as well. Is there a stream or pool where I might launder them?”

This, Rick thought, is what happens when you let a woman into a bachelor den. He expected to find curtains hanging, and his kitchen didn’t even have windows. Part of him was pleased and touched she’d go to so much trouble. The rest was just bemused.

“Okay, okay. We’ll go into town. They have a laundromat.” Wait. Did he have any change? Scat. Civilization got complicated after a while. That was one reason he had abandoned it. “Just stop sweeping, all right?”

Nilambari’s eyes lit up. She set the broom aside. “Can I visit with Mrs. McMahon? She’ll know what herbs can be harvested here, and what plants are edible. I need to learn this. I will also need a bath.”

“What for?”

She stared at him as if he’d gone insane. “Mrs. McMahon is a fine herbivorous woman. I can’t go before her with fresh blood in my scent. It would be rude.”

Rick made a face. A bath? Wasn’t that why cats had tongues? Anyway, Elly was married to a wolf. He doubted if she found Vern’s scent insulting. His eating habits, maybe.

Still … Rick reminded himself he was speaking to a young female. Their thought processes differed from normal creatures’. “I suppose I’ll need a bath too?”

Nilambari fixed that young female stare on him. Rick gave in. “Fine. No time like the present. The pond should do, now that the horses are gone. Let’s get this mess over with.”

Heat level: mild. Cover by Serena Shay. Nice, no?