Janine Ashbless's Blog, page 92

Sonisphere

Look at all those tall people heading toward Stage 1. Grrrr...
Well, since I spent two days at the Sonisphere metal festival this week (I slept through most of Sunday, I admit!),  I thought I'd post some pics.

"I don't normally drink this much beer, you understand?"
Sonisphere (a.k.a. Knebworth) is a lot of fun provided you can manage the 45minute hike from the carpark to the arena. There was much beer in cunning carriers:


There was much food:

Massive carbohydrate blow-out! YAY!!There was crumpet:

Hahaha! Hey - it was served by very nice ladies in corsets.

 There were WW1 dogfights:

And if you are taller than approx 5'8" - which I am not - there were also apparently some live bands playing!

"Is something happening up there?"
Actually, I could see the big screens most of the time, which helped a lot. THEY SHOULD BUILD STAGES HIGHER UP.
I enjoyed Limp Bizkit best, but also the reinvented re-metalled Gary Numan:

HE STILL HAS HAIR!And Iron Maiden:


And - to my surprise - Babymetal, who are insanely energetic and truly impressive as a live act.

They don't sound as screechy, eitherBut rest assured I am old enough that I still thought The Prodigy were overrated rubbish ("All their songs sound the same!")  and I went off for a wee and a nice cup of tea mid-set instead :-)

Love Lies Bleeding

Hooray, hooray!
I love a bit of gardening, I do, and of course I love writing smut, so what finer combination can there be for me than an anthology of gardening erotica? Greenwoman Publishing - who produce the literary gardening periodical Greenwoman Magazine - are putting together their first anthology of erotica, Fifty Shades of Green (teehee!), edited by secret erotica writer Cheri Colburn .

"It's going to be our feminist/gardener/literary answer to that . . . other book. And it is going to be hotter than the hottest pepper on the Scoville index of heat. And smart, not smutty.  Well, maybe a little smutty."

And my supernatural story Love Lies Bleeding has been accepted!  And I know Nano Vaslen is in there too :-)
Publication is sometime this year, and I'll let you know more as soon as I do.


BTW - this is what "love-lies-bleeding" looks like:

Blue Monday

Every Monday I post a rude bit from one of my stories, for your entertainment.

This Monday I really am being naughty as technically I didn't write In the Crowd under my Janine Ashbless name. It was one of a number of stories I did for the Nexus "Confessions" series, which were all anonymous pieces. But In the Crowd is my rock-chick "confession," and since I spent this last weekend at the Sonisphere festival, it seems the only appropriate thing to post...




There was no chance of keeping a discreet distance from people in that press, of course. We were all bumping arms and shoulders, all hot and sticky with excitement. It took a while for me to notice that there was someone getting just that little bit too close. He was directly behind me, and though I didn’t look I knew it was a man because he was brushing up against my bum repeatedly, and he was hard. I mean it, he had a stiff one. I could feel it jabbing at the soft curve of my bottom. His chest brushed my back too. He had broader shoulders than me; that was all I could tell without turning round.

Dirty bastard.

Don’t think I’d put up with that sort of thing normally. This was a total stranger taking advantage of the crowd for a bit of filthy fun, and I’m no slag. I don’t like guys who get too pushy and take stuff for granted. But somehow this was different. I was high on the pounding music. I was delirious with adrenaline. I wasn’t me for the moment, not properly. So I didn’t pull away. I understood why he was hard; if I’d been a bloke I’d have been standing proud too, throbbing with the beat. As it was my knickers were damp, my pussy all swollen. I stood my ground and let him press up against me and then withdraw. There was a rush of heat to my sex. It just seemed part of the heady experience we were all caught up in.

I didn’t turn round.

After the first couple of brushes, he knew I was aware of him, knew I was letting him get away with it. He got bolder. He put his hands on the back of my hips, lightly, and brushed up against the whole line of my body. I kept my eyes on the stage. As the crowd swayed he pressed closer into me. I could feel the hard ridge of his concealed cock sliding across the leather of my skirt. I felt him put one hand on my bum cheek and squeeze, enjoying the firm flesh. Testing me, I guess. Then he began to rub my butt with his open palm.

I wriggled against him.

God, this was weird. Half my attention was on the stage, half on what was happening to my body. Despite the muggy heat my nipples were tightening to points, sticking out through my cotton top. I felt dizzy, not sure how this could be happening to me, how I could be permitting it.

The lead singer was crouched, hammering on his thigh as he roared into the microphone.

The guy behind me dipped his hand to the edge of my skirt, and when he swept it up again he came up under the leather, skin on skin, his palm on my bare cheek. He had dry, hard hands. He found the edge of my knickers and slid his fingers under the trim. I felt his nails on my skin.

I looked to either side then, trying to be casual. None of my neighbours seemed to be taking any notice of what was going on in the shadows below head-level. Down there a finger slid up and down the cleft of my bum. His other hand had vanished from my hip; all I had was that tickling tease of a finger. It almost hypnotised me - until he pulled my skirt right up and pressed something hot to the cool flesh of my bottom. I nearly fell into the people in front of me, only he grabbed me by the waist in time. He had his cock out in public, for Chrissake! And was rubbing it against me under my skirt! That thick hot cylinder nearly freaked me out. To be touched by a totally anonymous cock, one I hadn’t even seen…

To be used for my arse, by this nameless meat. 

I could feel the teeth of his fly zip. I could feel wisps of his hair. I looked down and saw his fingers where he held me. Ringless, anonymous hands too, with blunt, clean nails. He was wearing a long-sleeved black T-shirt too, so I couldn’t see what his arms were like. He held me firmly against him, and his cock twitched impatiently as I caught my breath again.

Back and forth he rolled his cock across my bottom, from cheek to cheek, rubbing it against me. Rubbing it into the dip between the swells of flesh. It felt smooth and warm and hard enough to send a tingle right through me, imagining what he could do with that hard tool. Then, pushing it firmly down, he slid it along the gusset of my knickers. They were soaking wet by now - and not just from the heat either. He had to flex his legs to get down there, pushing hard into the slot between thighs and pussy lips. I wasn’t making it easy for him. I was keeping it tight.

I could feel the warmth of his breath on the back of my neck.

There was too much friction against the lace, I guess. So he used his fingertips to pull my knickers down, baring my bottom properly. Just as far as my thighs, though. I could feel the straining elastic biting into me. I could feel how damp the cloth was on the inside of my leg. I could feel how juicy my pussy was, now that it was bare, and heat rushed up my whole body.

Bare-arsed in a crowd of thousands…

He ran his fingers down my secret slash, stroking my sensitive bum-hole, my fuzz of hair, my swollen pussy-lips. He found how slippery I was, how sticky and eager for his touch. He made me squirm for him. Then where his fingers had gone, his cock followed.

He couldn’t shove it inside me, not without bending me right forward; the angle was all wrong. So he just stroked back and forth along my slot, between my thighs, in the wet and the heat.

‘Ich will,’ thundered the lead singer onstage: I want.


Nexus Confessions 4 at Amazon UK : Amazon US

Darn

The writer's life :-)

I have the Power(point)

I made these!


I have been taking my first tentative steps with Powerpoint this week, just because it's an easy tool for adding text to images.


It's a start, anyway :-)
You can see one in all-flippy action up at Blissekiss.

Line up, line up!

Woot woot!
Wanna see a BRAND NEW cover?


Drenched: an anthology of wet 'n' wild erotica is a collection of long short stories with a water theme, out from Sweetmeats Press very soon. Here's the table of contents:

Melusine by Janine Ashbless
Every Friday for ten years, Martin’s beautiful wife has left their home to spend the night somewhere else. Now, Martin can bear it no longer, and he is out to uncover the mind-blowing truth…no matter what the cost.
The Pool Party by Primula Bond
In the hills of southern France, an empty villa and luxurious pool provide two friends with unforeseen temptations...
Naiad by Justine Elyot
Told in the style of a modern myth, Naiad is a wet and wild tale of an urban nymph returning to her element.
Hard to Swallow by Lisette Ashton
A radio station's ambitious receptionist is enthralled by the voluptuous bottles of mineral water carried by all the DJs. There’s nothing like cool water for a dry throat, but it takes more than water to quench a burning lust!
A Divine Solution by Vina Green
In the midst of the worst drought in decades, a young wife bursts the dam of her desire and, in doing so, discovers that she might just save her whole community...

I'm very excited about this - not just because I adore Sweetmeats' books and production values, but because it looks like the stories will work very well together! Justine and I were clearly sharing psychic wavelengths, and part of my story features a French villa with a pool too ;-)

Drenched is out this month, on the 15th:
Amazon US : Amazon UK


And here's the full line-up for The Sexy Librarian's Big Book of Erotica, too:
 
Bix Warden - Foreword Rachel Kramer Bussel - Book SwapLillian Douglas - Sensate SiliconeJanine Ashbless - Three Legs In The EveningMichael Lewis - The ContestChase Morgan - The Secret GameTamsin Flowers - POW! It's Shibari Girl!Kristina Wright - Vivi and the Magic ManHeidi Champa - Second LookKay Jaybee - TapedD.L. King - Lauren's JourneyEmily Bingham - A Perverted Fairy TaleKate Maxwell - The Skilled TechnicianAllen Dusk - Shades of DesireSalome Wilde - Moonshine BalladKD Grace - Cherries In SeasonOlivia Archer - The Perfect MassageLynn Townsend - Full Frontal NeighborKatya Harris - The Whole of MeKelly Maher - Notes On A ScandalSommer Marsden - AppetizerAngela Caperton - MikhaelRose Caraway - The Mating ChamberIt's out on August 12th.
Look out for news of blog tours and podcasts :-) 2014 is shaping up to be a busy year for me ... oh boy!

Amazon US : Amazon UK

Blue Monday

Now that the much-loved (by me) Eyecandy Mondays are no more, I will be using Mondays to post a naughty bit from one of my stories, each week. 

And since angels and demons are on my mind this year, I'll kick off with an excerpt from The Temptation of Saint Gregory. Medieval Christian hermit Gregory, alone in his desert cell, is suffering from the determined attentions of a succubus ... but luckily he is sustained by visits from an angel.



"Gregory," she murmured in a voice of silk. He crossed himself and crouched before the altar as if defending it with his life's blood - a martyr out of the old days of persecution. His eyes sought the floor, but he could smell her; a warm, musky scent like that of crimson flowers opening under moonlight.

She was sexuality incarnate, everything that Gregory had forsworn and denied himself. She was an ancient goddess come to earth, but a goddess of night and mystery, not some bright Olympian deity. Her skin was copper, her hair copper made molten and poured over jet, coiling in serpentine ropes across her skin so that it concealed her ripe bare breasts, but only just; enough to hide nearly everything but suggest all, the nipples threatening to peek out from behind their curtain at every moment. The full curve of her hips, the firm rounded lines of her legs - all were visible. She wore nothing but a small kilt of bronze pieces that hung at her groin and clashed like the ringing of tiny cymbals at the gate to her sacred temple; that and the gold snakes that spiralled up her forearms and lower legs, their cunningly moulded coils clasping her limbs and striving ever-inward to her core.

She stepped across the room, moving like a dancer or a lioness. Her breasts swayed and bobbed under their own weight, hinting at dark nipples under the clinging fell of her hair. She trailed one hand across the top of the table, the better to emphasise the curves of her arm and her long fingers tipped with carnelian nails. She was a goddess; she was a harlot. Gregory felt his throat dry up and the blood surge to his loins. It was six years since he had lain upon a woman's flesh; almost four since he had seen a female face at all. The demoness clearly knew her business.

"Get out of here," he said in a low growl. "You  will not get what you want from me." He had tried exorcising her in the name of Christ upon her first visit, but she had merely smiled enigmatically and ignored the command.

"What I want? It is what you want that concerns me. I know exactly what that is, Gregory. And I am here to give you what you need," she added, looking at his lap.

The folds of his rough robe covered any betraying sign; she could not possibly see what struggled beneath, he thought.

"A thousand nights alone, Gregory, and I can smell your frustration on the wind from here to Alexandria. Your lying awake in the dark, unable to sleep, unable to pray, terrified to touch the serpent flesh in your own bed ... The hardness of the pallet beneath you, the serpent trapped between flesh and stone ... The orphaned memories of slave-girls and palace bedrooms that return to haunt you ... Your seed spilt while you are sleeping. Do you think all these things are secret?"

She rocked her hips. The little skirt of metal pieces clinked and shifted, revealing the flame-coloured fleece beneath. In two steps she was standing over him where he knelt.  Gregory shut his eyes as she took his head in her hands and pressed it against her raised thigh, so that his cheek and lips brushed her satiny skin. He did not struggle, but began the recite the Lord's Prayer rapidly under his breath, his lips tickling her soft flesh. The smell of her - perfume and musk, the rich hot scent of wanton woman - slipped down his throat.

"Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil..."

She released his head and he raised his face to heaven, eyes still closed, features tight with concentration. She bent over him, her hair brushing his face first and then his shoulders. She bent lower and the ripe globes of her breasts bumped softly against his brow, and trailed down over cheek and nose. Gregory stopped speaking. Her breasts - soft, firm, alive with sensation - were big enough to encompass the whole of his face. His nose had slipped into the warm cleft between them. he could not breathe without inhaling the sweet smell of her skin.

She drew back enough to drag the weight of each rounded breast from side to side across his face, and the stiff point of each puckered nipple across his mouth.  "Am I not what you desire above all else?" she murmured.



The Temptation of Saint Gregory appears in my very first short story collection, Cruel Enchantment, from way back in 2000. It was an early attempt to write a tale with a protagonist whose point of view I deeply disagreed with. I was going to draw out at length the deeper themes of self-deception and attitudes to carnality, but to be honest I think it all boils down to "Don't judge a book by its cover." 
:-D
Poor old Gregory. He gets everything that's coming to him ...

Amazon UK : Amazon US

One

Well, they headlined at Glastonbury last night :-)

Phenology - June

June brings tulips, lilies, roses, Fills the children's hands with posies

Well, I wouldn't fill childrens' hands with June wildflowers, not unless I was feeling particularly sadistic. By midsummer the flowers in our gardens may be still going strong, but out in the wild most of the plants are giving up on the pretty stuff and are concentrating on photosynthesis. By mid-June everything is GREEN. 
And mostly determined to hurt you:

"The Stinging Nettles are as high as an elephant's eye ...
and the totally lethal Hemlock reaches way up to the sky ..."
There are exceptions of course - the dog rose (top) is flowering in the hedges, and brambles are blossoming too:


They're both a bit prickly to pick though.
There are foxgloves in the semi-shade...



But they're deadly poisonous. Not junior posy material. What safe flowers can we find?

Oh oh oh - Elderflower? That's safe surely?

Beware!



The lovely little elder is (next to the hawthorn) the most magical, malign, superstition-laden tree in the British Isles. It has many herbal and culinary uses, but the wood smokes and spits and squeals when it burns, and if you put it in your hearth it was said that the Devil would come and sit on your chimney! Witches were said to be able to take the shape of elder trees to disguise themselves. It was credited as being the tree used for the crucifixion, and also the tree from which Judas hung himself in shame, so it was accounted incredibly unlucky. And if you cut one down you had to apologise to it first, or else the Elder Witch would take some horrible revenge like causing you to cut your hand off.

I use this legend in
    'See?' said Aaron. 'You make her a present and she gives you a wish.'
    I could hear some of the kids chanting as they skipped rope on the grass nearby:

 Bour tree, bour tree: crooked wrong  Never straight and never strong Always bush and never tree Since the Christ was hanged on thee.     A Christian gloss on a much older warning, I thought. 'Hmm,' I said, noncommittally. I didn't want to offend the man. Or the tree.
    'Go on.' A lock of my hair swung down across my face as he reached up without warning to my temple, pulled out the hairclip there and snapped it over a twig. My mouth fell open. Aaron grinned. 'Make a wish.'
    The hairclip was a cheap one with a white fabric flower on it. Even if it had been silk and diamonds, I wasn't sure it would have been wise to snatch it back. Gifts to the Old People should never be resented.
    I made myself relax again. 'I don't need to. Mine's already come true,' I said, letting him know I could be just as cheeky and forward as he was.
    His eyes held mine, dancing. 'Take a flower then.'
     I lifted an eyebrow and sought out one of the white clusters with my hand. 'Give me of your wood, old girl,' I said softly. There are traditional formulae for turning aside an elder's malice, and that's one of them. 'And I'll give you mine when I grows into a tree.'
    'Ah,' he said, eyes narrowing; 'you're a smart 'un.' 


More happily, June is also the time of the hay-harvest, before the grass seeds are mature and while the leaves have greatest nutritive value. 


But the cereal crops are unripe still - and incredibly vulnerable to rain, wind and blight. Midsummer rituals celebrated the highpoint of the sun and the longest days, but also had a protective purpose because the entire food supply for the coming winter could be devastated at a stroke by the gods. It was also the time of year raiding parties were most likely from your (equally agrarian) neighbours, who'd have finished the spring planting and been twiddling their thumbs awaiting harvest too. So traditional Midsummer festivals often featured bonfires which were used to bless crops and animals and people alike.

My first glimpse of the sun on the Summer Solstice morning this year, 4.43 a.m.So be afraid. Be very afraid... and it's not even winter yet!

Guest post: Erzabet Bishop

Today I'd like to welcome to my blog Erzabet Bishop, author of urban paranormal novel Sigil Fire :


Sonia is a succubus with one goal: stay off Hell’s radar. But when succubi start to die, including her sometimes lover, Jeannie, she’s drawn into battle between good and evil.
Fae is a blood witch turned vampire, running a tattoo parlor and trading her craft for blood. She notices that something isn’t right on the streets of her city. The denizens of Hell are restless. With the aid of her nest mate Perry and his partner Charley, she races against time before the next victim falls. The killer has a target in his sights, and Sonia might not live to see the dawn.

Let's kick off with a  Q and A!


How did you come up with Sigil Fire, Erzabet?
This story began as a writing prompt that didn’t make it into the anthology it was originally intended for. After much more work, I sent it in to the Ylva Halloween anthology and the amazing and wonderful Astrid believed it could be so much more. What was a nine thousand word story became a nearly thirty thousand word novella.

Will there be a sequel?
Yes. Charley, Perry, Sonia and Fae will be back for book two, which has already begun.

Favorite dessert?
Chocolate. Any kind. Anywhere.

Do you have a pet?
Yes. My husband and I have a pack of furry canine children that constantly keep us on our toes.

Favorite place to relax?
That would have to be in bed with a good book, my puppy Tadpole by my side.

Who are some of your favorite urban fantasy or erotic authors?
There are so many! I love Kim Harrison, Lisabet Sarai, Jaye Wells, Red Phoenix, Cari Silverwood, DL King, Alison Tyler, Rachel Kramer Bussel, Rhavensfyre, Patricia Briggs, Laura Antoniou…the list goes on and on. If I could be sealed in a room for a year I would never be bored reading these fabulous authors and more.

What are you working on now?
I have several works in progress. I write for the serial, Club Rook and am in the middle of two episodes to finish out the first season. There is also a CYOA for Silkwords, a twisted fairy tale for Decadent and a Halloween tale for my wonderful friends at Ylva. Not to mention the urban fantasy romance I’m up to my knees in for Sci Spanks coming up in a week or so.

What is Sci Spanks?
I’m glad you asked! It is a wonderful event for authors and readers to get together around their love of reading erotic literature. Some spanking may be involved, so warm up your paddles! Check out this link to the Facebook page and consider being an ambassador for more prize opportunities.



Erzabet BishopErzabet's Enchantments Review BlogAbout MeFacebook author pageTwitterAmazon author pageGoodreadsAnd now ... an excerpt from Sigil Fire :

Blood pounded in her temples, and Sonia’s feet hit the pavement. Tears blurred her vision as the reality of what almost happened sunk in. He was the killer, and he knew where she lived. He was a fallen angel.

Turning the corner, she saw the tattoo parlor and picked up her pace. The shadows mocked her from every angle. He would be out there waiting. His oily presence oozed unholy joy at her panic, and she stumbled, almost losing her footing on the uneven sidewalk. Footsteps echoed on the street behind her, and in her panic, she couldn’t distinguish between friend and foe.

The glass doors loomed large, windows covered with posters of the latest trends in piercing and ink. Pulling maniacally on the door, Sonia let out a howl of frustration to discover it locked. “Son of a bitch! Oh Goddess! Open up!” Tears ran down her face, and she tore at the door, hoping for some weakness that would allow her entry. Something. Anything.

She bit back a sob and staggered backward. It was over. He would find her in moments.

The street had become too quiet and the echo of sinister laughter crept along the edge of darkness.

The bastard was playing with her.

Fear shot through Sonia’s body, numb and cold, causing her to yelp as the doors rattled behind her.

The sound of a barking dog came from the interior of the shop.

A voluptuous dark-haired woman leaned out, the bluish light illuminating her features with beams of icy radiance. “If you’re looking for a corner, succubus, you’ve picked the wrong one. Move it along.”

Sonia stepped closer to the door, turning her head into the light. “I’m here to see Fae.” She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. The T-shirt and jeans had been warm enough earlier, but the air had turned chillier.

“Red?” The woman’s eyes grew wide. She assessed Sonia’s every movement.

Sonia shook her head, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. “Do you know me?

The barking of a dog sounded closer, and the dark-haired woman drew back as the little body pushed past her.

Sonia leaned down. “What are you doing here?”

The little dog barked furiously, wagging its tail and whining. Its furry little face searched Sonia’s, and it jumped against Sonia’s leg, licking her hand.


“Hey there. Glad to see you made it home.” Sonia reached down at petted dog’s head.

Snorting, the dog rubbed its head against Sonia’s hand, letting out a delighted sound.

“Your dog knows me.” Sonia searched the dark-haired woman’s face. “I saved it. In the alley yesterday. There was a demon trying to take it.”

“Jellybean, what have you been doing?” Fae returned her gaze to Sonia and stared hard. “You saved her? How?”

A frustrated snort came from the dog, and she growled at the shadows.

“You’re lucky that you have a hellhound to watch over you. Someone must have loved you a lot.”

The woman’s face softened. “My mother. Jellybean was the last gift she gave me before she died.”

“Can you please let me in?” Sonia glanced behind her. The shadows grew longer, and the temperature continued to drop. The street was deserted now. “I need to see Fae. Monty sent me.” Sonia hated that her voice shook. She couldn’t help but notice the woman who blocked her path was intoxicating. The stranger’s dark hair rippled in the cold light of the shop, and her tight fitting shirt revealed far more than it chose to conceal. Her eyes burned black in the darkness, and despite her fear, Sonia felt herself falling inside them. They were safe. Familiar somehow. It didn’t make sense.

“Why the hell would Monty send you here?” The woman straightened, and the illusion of a simple shop owner vanished.

Jellybean barked. The dog’s body tensed, and she stood in front of Sonia, protecting her from the darkness beyond. The energy on the street grew malignant. The dog’s eyes flashed red and power radiated from her.

Sonia and the woman stared, momentarily speechless.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Come on.” The woman grinned as Jellybean jumped up and down. “Get in here.”

Dark laughter echoed down the street and Sonia flinched.

Jellybean growled, the hair on the back of her neck standing straight up.

Sighing deeply, the woman held the door open. “Come on then. Jellybean’s vouching for you and I’ve been looking for you myself.”

“Thank you.” Sonia scurried through the door, tears of relief brimming on her lashes. She blinked, but the tears still managed to fall. She was an immortal. Fear was not something she was used to living with, and it made her angry. Her head and soul were still spinning from everything that had happened in the past hour. She staggered. Her life was about to change even more. She could feel it.

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