Fantasy Island

Welcome to my imagination. Come in, get yourself comfortable, and look around. I guarantee a wild ride!

Monday, February 27, 2006

Another excerpt from HOT GOSSIP!

After a quick nap, a long shower, a slathering of cocoa butter and strategically placed perfume, Makayla sashayed into the hotel’s bar with a mission. She wore black leather pants with fashionably enhanced hips and a low cut sweater twin set that displayed more fashionably enhanced products like the triple click cleavage bra. God bless Victoria’s Secret.

Makayla quickly scanned the crowd but didn’t see Ethan. She took a stool at the bar and ordered a Pink Lady. As she took a sip, she stared at herself in the facing mirrored wall behind the counter. She ran a hand through her hair and fluffed it up. After trailing her tongue over her plump painted lips, she winked at herself. No man could resist her. She was a temptress, a seductress. An old star harlot like Brigitte Bardo. Ethan didn’t have a chance.

But what then? She’d entice him, flirt with him, ply him with drinks, and then what? She didn’t have a clue. She obviously didn’t think that far ahead. Would she actually step over the line of journalist ethics--yes, she had a line--and sleep with him for a story?

The moment she spotted Ethan in the mirror as he walked into the bar and sat down at a table, all the blood rushed from her head down to her crotch. He looked absolutely edible in his soft blue chambray shirt and tan Chinos. His hair was parted and slick to the side. It still looked wet as if he had just stepped out of the shower.

Makayla swallowed the saliva pooling in her mouth as she thought of him just stepping out of the stall, his body slick and wet, the fresh scent of soap on his hard flesh, and a sexy playful grin on his chiseled face.

She felt little quivers of desire in her thighs and a quickening of things in between. Yes, she might just cross that line.

Taking another sip of her drink, she tried to compose herself. She was a professional and this was her assignment. Ethan Devane was just a story and nothing more.

After flipping back her hair, she swung around on the barstool, crossing her legs seductively as she did. She pretended to scan the crowd, a look of boredom etched on her face. At least, she hoped it was boredom and not pent-up sexual frustration.

It was getting more and more difficult to reign in her lust with Ethan so near. He was like a pheromone nuclear bomb. No one within a twenty-mile radius was safe from the hormonal fall-out.

Coming to Whispers February 28th!


  • At 4:33 PM, Blogger Robin49 said…

    Got my credit card ready! I can't wait! Wishing you big sales and great day!


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