The House of Elyot


Posted on: March 13, 2011

One of the greatest compliments a writer can ever receive is a reprint, and I’m honoured and delighted to have my first reprinted story in this terrific compilation by super-ed Rachel Kramer Bussel. Surrender is an anthology of some of her favourite stories of female submission and my story, The London O, was previously featured in Orgasmic. Looking at the line-up, I can’t quite believe I’m there – but I am!

Along with Donna George Storey ; Teresa Noelle Roberts ; Emerald ; Lolita Lopez ; Terri Pray ; Alison Tyler ; Jacqueline Applebee ; Tess Danesi ; Shanna Germain ; Rachel Kramer Bussel ; Elizabeth Coldwell ; Thomas S Roche ; Noelle Keely ; M Christian ; Matt Conklin ; Amanda Earl ; Dominic Santi ; Isabelle Gray ; Fiona Locke ; Gwen Masters ; Clancy Nacht.

Here, in time-honoured tradition, is an excerpt:

It had swiftly become a matter of pride to Lloyd that he should provide more, bigger, better orgasms than any of my previous lovers and, in the early days of our relationship, I confess that I might have played on this tiny insecurity.

“Orlando was so well named,” I teased over moules marinières in some Café Rouge or other. “An O at either end.” I ran the point of my tongue over the tender morsel in its winey, creamy broth-filled shell. “He had the gift.”

“Either end?” Lloyd’s light tone did nothing to fool me. He knew a challenge when he heard one. “You mean he gave you an orgasm in your toes? And the top of your head?”

“The location isn’t important,” I grinned, swirling the lascivious mollusc around the insides of my mouth before swallowing.

“Au contraire, Miss Martin, the location is a critical factor. Don’t you agree?”

Lloyd sipped sagely at his red wine, his eyes narrowed, keen to pursue the conversational line.

“Well, without wanting to get too graphic at the dinner table…”

“Oh no, I’m not talking body geography. I know the map of Sophie well enough, and I don’t care how well-thumbed it is. I know where to plant my flag when I want her earth to move. I’m talking about places.”

“Places? Orgasmic places?”

“Yeah. Where’s the strangest place you ever climaxed?”

“Oh…well. A swimming pool. An underground car park. A hotel balcony.” I frowned in an effort of memory.

“Tame stuff. Vanilla in the extreme. I’m surprised at you.”

“Lloyd! Where am I supposed to do it? On stage?”

“That would add spice.” His louche grin was as wide as a wolf’s and his knee nudged mine beneath the chequered cloth. “I’m sure you’d find an appreciative audience.”

“So where’s your most outrageous spot for hitting the spot then? Since you see yourself as the voice of experience here.”

“There was a croquet lawn. A rowing boat. An aircraft hangar. And that was all before I left college.”

“So what is the point you are making? Were those orgasms better?”

“No, they weren’t better,” he conceded. “But they had a quality…all of their own. Didn’t you find that with your experiences outside the bedroom?”

“I suppose I did. Yes.”

“But nobody has ever pursued that with you?”

“No. I must admit, my past lovers have mainly wanted privacy. Don’t you?”

“There’s a time and a place.”

I snorted.

“That appears to be the opposite of what you’re proposing. You seem to be saying that any time and any place are fine for sex.”

“Not sex necessarily. Just having an orgasm. Coming. Oh, I love that. Coming. Such an innocent word; such a coy little euphemism.”

“OK, now I’m struggling.”

“You will be. Finish that up. I’m getting the bill. I need to show you what I mean and in this case, I think actions will speak louder than words.”

I mopped up the last of the delicious sauce with a hunk of baguette and pushed the plate aside.

“Just coming,” I said.

(And yes – it is Lloyd from On Demand).

Surrender to the urge to buy this book!

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