Special July price of 99 cents for the ebook!
AMAZON – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B074LSRL3T
Special July price of 99 cents for the ebook!
AMAZON – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B074LSRL3T
Her eyes immediately were drawn to the two women in the middle of the open floor. They wore work out wear, and were posed knees bent, butts pushed out, chests up, arms lifting in large circles. Katie stopped and watched. They were the Poule dancers. Katie’s stomach did a flip. She was already all nerves to see Nick again after last night and this morning, would he still want her around? But now to see the burlesque dancers practicing was an extra thrill. After only having seen one show, they were her personal heroes.
Katie couldn’t take her eyes from the dancers. They stepped, turned and posed to the music. She didn’t move from inside the door until one of the dancers caught her eye in the mirror.
She stopped and faced Katie. “Who are you? This is a private dance studio.”
The words stuck in her throat. “I…” She pointed to where Nick worked. “I’m…Nick.”
“Katie-cat is my lover.” Nick announced as he crossed the studio to where she stood. Katie couldn’t take her eyes from his face. His wide smile and happy expression made her insides quiver. He pulled her into his embrace and claimed her lips in a searing kiss.
He broke the kiss and pivoted to face the dancers. Katie could only blink as she looked at his face. His words and actions claimed her like an object. An inkling in the back of her brain pointed to this as a prime example that he was never going to be emotionally invested in them as a future couple. Her heart smothered that inkling with a pillow, and shoved it far far away. She wanted to be his. More accurately she wanted him to be hers.
More holiday bump and grind this winter coming your way!
©2018 Lulu M Sylvian
“You’re in a club, twenty-one and over, and you’re drinking a kiddie drink. Designated driver?“ A gravely male voice, low and somewhat sexy, asked me.
I turned, tilted my gaze up, and froze. Any semblance of a witty retort evaporated from my tongue. Long black hair, dark eyes, heavy eyeliner, full lips, square chin. My idea of the quintessential rock star stood smirking at my drink.
I dropped my eyes and stared at his hands. Tattooed knuckles bedecked in heavy silver rings gripped a steaming mug. I couldn’t look directly at him. I already felt the wobbles of turning into once-human goo deep in my gut. I followed his hand to a wrist wrapped in leather and chain bracelets and a few dripping scarves.
“Coffee?” I managed to say.
“Yeah.” He held the mug up in salute before taking a sip. That ‘yeah’ was really quite a sexy sound.
“You’re picking on me for drinking a Roy Rogers, and you’re drinking coffee? Trying to get sober?” I’m not sure how I was able to form words. My throat was dry, and my tongue felt swollen. I always lost the ability to speak coherently around good looking men. It was a good thing I was sitting down, because I know my knees had forgotten how to work.
He huffed. “Trying to stay sober. You?”
©2017 Lulu M Sylvian. Calling Bird from The Twelve Strippers of Christmas. Available October 2017
Tyler stalked thru every last tent, and he literally crawled between them as well. Still no bird. And no one had seen any more roosters running around.
He checked out the main entrance and wished he hadn’t left his jacket in the pickup. A fine drizzle and diminishing light were going to make the next half of his search miserable. For Kolby, he would do this in his bare feet in the snow. She had kissed his face, and her lips had felt like clouds. He stepped out into the weather.
After a fruitless search that took longer than he wanted, and probably not half the time that was needed, Tyler returned empty-handed to the rooster tent.
Kolby sat on the table. Her torso and arms draped over the crate holding the smaller of the two roosters. Her dark hair, in a thick braid, hung limply over her shoulder. She wiped at her nose, still sniffling.
His heart broke to see her so sad. He had watched, from too far away, as she established herself as a Marans breeder. Her birds consistently produced the desired dark brown eggs. Her hens were full and fluffy with dark feathers, and the roosters were picture-book quality. To lose her spokesmodel and top show bird had to feel like a kick in the teeth.
And here he was again, watching her from too far away.
He would give anything to be her hero but he’d failed miserably.
“Kolby?” He didn’t want to startle her, didn’t want to cause her any more grief.
Her puffy red eyes lifted to meet his steady gaze. When she saw he had no bird in his arms, she didn’t smile the way she usually did when she saw him.
He shook his head and opened his empty arms. He was so sorry, so unbelievable sorry. He would give anything to see her smile again, but he was only able to deliver bad news.
Kolby rushed into his arms, holding onto him as fiercely as if he was the only person who could save her.
©2017 Lulu M Sylvian. Three French Cockerels from The Twelve Strippers of Christmas. Available October 2017
“How’re you doing?” The man she’d inadvertently ogled had a square jaw lined with a thin beard, nice lips, and a voice like liquid chocolate. He gave Alexa a little upward nod of his head. It was a shapely head with close-cropped, tightly curled hair. He had everything nice, and that was why Alexa figured he had mesmerized her as he carried cases of beer and water from a delivery pallet on the sidewalk into a building.
“No, no, I’m good,” she stammered. Oh my God, wrong answer stupid. And he’s wearing a Santa hat.
Red stocking cap with white pom-pom, tight jeans, and a T-shirt with the long sleeves pushed up. He didn’t seem to be bothered by the cold. Alexa sighed as she watched him pick up another box and disappear into the dark of the building. His jeans displayed his ass to perfection. He even whistled. Could he be any cuter?
“You sure you don’t need anything?” he asked again. This time she registered hints of a British accent.
“Just enjoying the show,” Alexa gushed.
“By all means, enjoy away.” He rolled his shoulders, did an extra flex of bicep, and carried another box into the building.
Alexa’s brain, not firing on all cylinders, took a moment to realize that she had just come across as the vilest, most sexist pig ever. Had she been a man doing that to a woman, she should have been slapped. Instead, he flexed for her.
“I just objectified you in a very demeaning manner, and you don’t mind?” she asked him after he jogged down the few steps to the sidewalk.
The man paused. Damn, he was tall. Then he shrugged. “It’s all part of the job. Look, if you want to objectify me without guilt and enjoy a real show, come by tonight. Doors open at eight.” He pointed to the marquee on the building behind him. Manfred’s Manly Male Review.
“Oh. Right.” Alexa felt a little awkward, but she smiled. Alliteration always made her happy. Manfred should have used manifestation instead of review…more Ms that way. She had been ogling a stripper in his day wear, and he had just invited her to ogle him some more. “I think I just will.”
©2017 Lulu M Sylvian. Perfect Cup from The Twelve Strippers of Christmas. Available October 2017
Whoo hoo, Christmas in July! Well, not really. But I am listening to a lot of Christmas music as I finalize this collection of short stories.
Here’s an excerpt from Les Poules Françaises
“Dancing Queen.” Nick purred as Katie approach the front of the club. He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.
She placed a hand over his kiss and blushed slightly. It was cute.
He glanced behind her checking to confirm she had not been followed by the grabby Gwinney.
“Just you?” He asked.
“I told you it would just be me. Disappointed?” Her smile lit up her face. Her eyes looked bigger and brighter with sparkling gold make-up. He wanted to poke his fingers through the loops in her hair style.
“Thrilled it’s just you. That Gwinney is like some excitable puppy who doesn’t understand the commands sit, stay, leave me the f*k alone.” Nick paid for their entrance into the club.
“She thinks you’re hot.” Katie explained as she followed Nick further inside.
“Of course she does. I am hot, and I work damn hard to make sure people know it.” Nick stroked his hand in the air down the front of his body, displaying the artistry that went into tonight’s outfit.
His hair had been shaved on the sides and piled high in the middle. Braids with beads and peacock feathers lined the side of his mohawk and draped down his back with the longer lengths of blue and black hair. His make-up was all in shades of black and silver. He wore a cropped leather biker jacket with a tight peacock print t-shirt. Everything else was black leather and silver studs.
“Modest much?” Katie laughed. She shoved her gloves into her coat pocket and passed it to the coat check girl.
“Oh, you should talk, Miss Victory Curls and swishy skirt. I don’t see you here in scrubs and nursing shoes. Why should women have all the fun in dressing up and looking good?”
“Point taken.” Katie agreed. “But it lures in hapless victims like Gwinney. And it confuses her. She sees the pretty, she wants the pretty, she doesn’t understand why the pretty doesn’t want her back.”
“Are you calling me pretty?” Nick looked down his nose at her.
Katie shook her head and bit her lower lip. He needed to get her on the dance floor before he pushed her against the back wall and messed up the makeup they both wore.