Oh I do like to be beside the seaside...

It's nearly time for Smut by the Sea, which takes place in Scarborough, UK, this Saturday.

There's an amazing line-up of erotica authors who'll be reading from their work, including.... Janine Ashbless, KD Grace, Lucy Felthouse, Victoria Blisse, Liv Honeywell, Lexie Bay, Slave Nano, Ruby Kiddell, Ashley Lister, Tabitha Rayne, Gemma Parkes, Rachel Kincaid and Jennifer Denys, a special show to launch Slave Nano's book Adventures in Fetishland and a Q&A on how to write erotica and get it published. There's also an erotic marketplace where you can buy books, sex toys and cake, amongst other things (I can't decide which is my top priority. Decisions, decisions.)

Entry during the day is free. Yes, you read that right. Free. 

In the evening there's the launch party for Smut by the Sea Volume 2, with readings, a Q&A, a burlesque show with Moorita and a goodie bag full of, well... goodies. Tickets and all the info you need at the Smut by the Sea website.

I fully intend to have a swim in the North Sea while I'm there. I've been googling and I gather that South Bay is the place to be. I'm actually in the picture above, a little black dot in the Irish Sea. Here's an excerpt from my Smut by the Sea Vol 2 story, in which Gareth and Claire are larking about off the north-west tip of Wales...

Gareth aimed another splash at me, but the foamy water missed. Instead, he stumbled on the stones. He fell like he was playing some kind of extreme Twister, trying to put down hands and feet to keep his clothes out of the water. It didn’t work. He went in, arse first.

“Shit and bollocks,” he said with a sigh.

I laughed. That proved a mistake. In a provoking-him kind of way. He jumped up, water streaming, and lunged for me like a rugby player. I did that crazy kind of run where you try to lift your feet out of the water to go faster without splashing yourself up to the eyeballs. It didn’t work. He grabbed my waist and flung me into the deeper water. I thought his “shit and bollocks” something of an understatement. The cold took my breath away. Literally. My lungs emptied in one great gasp of shock. The Irish Sea in May. It’s not warm.

“I. Cannot. Believe. You. Just. Did. That,” I stuttered, teeth chattering.

“Oh stop being a wimp,” he grinned, splashing me some more just to make sure. There was probably a tiny spot of my left eyebrow that still wasn’t wet.