I have fellow smut writer Bel Anderson with me for a virtual cuppa today, so over to her...
I’m thrilled to have a story, ‘The Beach House,’ in the
brand new Smut by the Sea - available at All Romance, Amazon UK and Amazon.com.
The inspiration for the story came from two sources – the
location was inspired by a childhood holiday and the male love-interest is
pretty much based on my first ever lover.
When I was about seven years old, my parents, sister and I
stayed in a holiday cottage belonging to friends of the family in Lessingham,
Norfolk. I don’t have great memories about the cottage itself – my abiding
memory is that there were ear-wigs in residence and I used to fall asleep with
my fingers in my ears, afraid that they’d crawl in! What I really remember are
the dunes – miles and miles of them – and the rolling, grey North Sea. It was
windy and wild and it stirred something in my soul. It has been the basis of
two other, non-erotic, stories as well, one of which was published in a women’s
magazine. I’ve tweaked the cottage and
made it a sort of glorified beach hut for the purposes of this story, but the
wildness of that part of the coast remains un-tweaked.
And onto the man… he wasn’t a childhood sweetheart but I was
only seventeen and, yes, he broke my heart. He was five years older, wore a
suit, smelt of aftershave and knew his way around a woman’s body. I consider
myself lucky to have had him as my first lover because he taught me to enjoy my
body with confidence and treated me like a woman. He had hair the colour of a
red-setter’s coat, smiling green-blue eyes and he used to make me laugh. He was
also a dreadful snob and had been brought up as though he was one of the aristocracy, which he wasn’t. I was too lowly to even meet his mother. Still,
the great thing about memory is that you can be selective – and I have selected
everything that was gorgeous and sexy about him for this story.
Here’s a small taste:
I step over the
threshold and he reaches past me to flick the light switch, producing an
electric-shock-type reaction from me as his arm brushes my shoulder and nothing
at all from the bulb in the ceiling.
“Maybe the electricity’s off,” he
says, flicking the switch a couple of times for good measure.
It is. The old
card-meter is card-less. Bang goes any vision I may have been entertaining of a
cosy fire and us writhing naked on the rug in front of it. I remind myself that
it was never going to happen anyway; only in my filthy mind. In any case, if
there still is a rug, it’ll be full of dust and goodness only knows what else.
“Oh well.” He looks at me, his
green eyes clear and so, so beautiful in the half-light of the hallway. I make
a snap decision. I reach up to touch his face and then slip my fingers slowly
into the luxurious thickness of his hair. I stand up on tiptoe and I pull his
head down to mine. He doesn’t resist. His breath, warm and clean, mingles with
my own as his lips part and slowly, tentatively, find mine. A small moan of
lust escapes me as his hot tongue slides delicately, almost politely, between
them. I return the pressure as my chest heaves against his and suddenly he’s
devouring me, his hands roaming from my hair to my face, to my throat and back
again. I bury my fingers in handfuls of his thick hair, stroke the plane of his
cheek, finger the smooth line of his jaw; everything I’ve been longing to touch
from the moment I saw him this afternoon. I close my eyes and let all thoughts
fall away. I just want to feel.
Bel has previously been published in anthologies by Xcite
books, has recently had stories published in Smut Alfresco and Smut by the Sea Volume 2. She is
working on a non-erotic novel and also an anthology of erotic stories.
You can find her blog here: http://belandersonwrites.blogspot.com and her work here:
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