Giselle Renarde's Blog, page 165
December 23, 2010
Festive Frenzy: Perfectly Presented by Berengaria Brown
Title of Work: Perfectly Presented
Author Name: Berengaria Brown
Buy Link: http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=2974
"Perfectly Presented" Blurb:
Blake and Xavier met a year ago at a business conference and had a
passionate one-night stand. They have remained fuck buddies but
neither has been willing to admit that they want a much wider, deeper,
ongoing relationship.
Until Blake sees Xavier agonizing over the fact that several gift tags
for poor children remained unclaimed on the holiday tree. Blake
encourages Xavier to talk about his past. They spend several days
together in the lead up to the holidays and come to acknowledge their
relationship is so much more than just hot sex. But can Blake get
Xavier to tell him about his past and his problem? Can they move from
being just fuckbuddies to a real relationship?
Excerpt:
Xavier unfolded his legs, stretched them out, and rested his feet on
Blake's thighs.
Blake put his arms along the side of the tub, uncrossed his own legs
and settled them onto the base of the tub, underneath and inside
Xavier's legs.
The two men looked at each other and level of steaminess in the small
room increased exponentially. Lust exploded between them. Their eyes
caught and held each other, while Blake pushed his right foot against
Xavier's balls. He let his toes wiggle up and down, gently massaging
and scraping the balls. Then he slid his foot down a bit so it would
rub against Xavier's ass, again wiggling his toes to send both their
pulses fluttering and both their hearts pounding with sexual tension.
Xavier copied him, sliding a foot into the dark curls at the base of
Blake's cock, and running his toes through the hair there -- backward
and forward, backward and forward, slowly and steadily, firmly enough
to raise goose bumps but not hard enough to promise a climax.
"Do you think it's possible to jack someone off just using your feet?"
gasped Blake.
"Dunno, but we could certainly try."
Toes moved more purposefully on cocks and breathing hitched in both men.
Suddenly Blake pushed Xavier's feet aside. "Nah I need to hold you. I
need more body contact." Suiting action to words he stood up splashily
and hauled Xavier to his feet too, sending water rolling up against
the sides of the tub.
Both men quickly stepped out of the tub, and Blake dropped to the
floor, sitting on a fluffy towel. He pulled Xavier onto his lap and
into his arms, wrapping both arms around the man and pulling him tight
to his chest.
Xavier responded by gripping Blake's thighs with his legs and digging
his calves and heels into the other man's back so they were held
tightly together.
Xavier grabbed both cocks in one hand and rolled and twisted them
against each other, using his palms to increase the pressure on them
equally, then sliding his hands up and down while still keeping the
two cocks pressed together.
"Fuck that's hot."
Blake loosened his arms just a fraction so Xavier could get a bit more
leverage, and thrust up with his hips to keep the penises side by
side.
Up and down went Xavier's hands, gripping and twisting, squeezing and
pulling, always ensuring the effect was heightened by both cocks being
entwined.
Blake was thrusting his hips harder now, and lowered his arms so they
gripped Xavier's hips. Holding and massaging his sides and hips, then
his ass. "Love your ass," he whispered placing a kiss on Xavier's
forehead,
"Love you," replied Xavier, squeezing both cocks hard.
At those words Blake exploded, semen jetting from his cock into the
air and over both their chests. Xavier stroked up and down once more
but there was no need, his own dick was already spurting its seed in
response to seeing his partner come.
Simultaneously both men leaned forward to kiss the other. "Well, damn.
Now we really need a bath," joked Blake.
Buy Link: http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=2974
Berengaria Brown
http://berengariasblog.blogspot.com/
http://berengariabrown.webs.com/
Giselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!
http://www.wix.com/gisellerenarde/ero...
Festive Frenzy: Tinsel and Frost by Eden Winters
Tinsel and Frost by Eden Winters
Link:
http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&manufacturers_id=293&products_id=2405Blurb:
The last time Tony danced, he'd worn the spangles and tights of the Nutcracker's Prince and the audience threw roses at the stage. One career-ending accident later, he's dancing again, and he's not proud of hoping that the audience will reward him with twenties.
Frost, the big, pale bouncer, has reasons of his own for keeping a watchful eye on Tony. He keeps his distance, too, until he has to bounce an aggressive customer who takes things with Tony too far. They have a short, shared walk home but a huge divide between their lives, though Tony and Frost might have more in common than they believe.
Snippet:
How Tony'd dreaded this moment, this sealing of his fate. With his first step onstage he was officially a stripper, hammering the final nail in the coffin of a once promising career. Instead of twirling a tiny female in an off-Broadway production while dressed as a swan, he was slowly peeling off a skin-tight T-shirt to reveal his freshly shaved chest in a strip club, way, way, way, way off Broadway. So far off Broadway that it would take a good long trip by car to get there.
Rude shouts of, "Take it off, baby!" brought him back to his sad reality. He wished the men were quieter so he could at least pretend to be on stage in some major city, performing for a more refined audience. In retaliation he dropped to the floor in a full split, inspiring groans of imagined pain from his all-male spectators.
Smoothing his hands down the legs of his costume, he discreetly thumbed open the side fastenings and rose smoothly, leaving the pants behind. A casual kick launched them toward the curtain for the stage hand to retrieve. Grasping the pole once more, he spun himself around, giving those closest a gratuitous view of his ass, exposed by a skimpy, flesh-colored thong. His only other clothing, if it could be called that, was a silk wrap on his calf, hardly visible in the low light. If anyone noticed it, they'd just assume it was part of his costume. That is, if anyone even bothered to look beyond his crotch or his ass. Lower and lower he wound around the pole, fighting tinsel the whole way, finally ending up back on the floor in a pile of cheap, glittering plastic.
Once more visualizing himself a sleek predator stalking prey, he held onto his shredded dignity as tightly as he could while crawling on hands and knees to the edge of the stage. Schooling his features into what he hoped was a seductive, confident smirk, he focused on those likely to be big tippers. He paused a moment to search out the bouncers. Ah, there they were in all their muscle-bound glory, one at either end of the stage, ready to step in if he gave the signal. Confident that he was protected, he slowly moved closer to the fists waving dollars in his direction.
The paper being shoved into his skimpy garment tickled and scratched. He tuned it all out, keeping his eyes carefully on the customers' chins so he wouldn't see the lust in their eyes. If he didn't look, he could more easily imagine that he wasn't the piece of meat they saw him as. Groping hands traveled down his flanks and he turned what he hoped was a playful expression on the offender, wagging a finger. That was the first warning. The customer would only get one more before the bouncers escorted him out. At least that much he could say for this club: they took care of their own, unlike some of the other places he'd auditioned for.
Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. An older, graying man held up a twenty. Tony smiled seductively, crawling toward him, regretting that he hadn't turned his eyes away more quickly. Bile rose in his throat at the man's superior sneer. That look said, "I could pay for you; you're just a whore." Although he knew it wasn't true, it still stung that others thought so. Swallowing the remnants of his dignity, he reminded himself that it was a small price to pay for the twenty that was going to be stuffed into his thong. At the last minute the man slipped the twenty back into his pocket, throwing back his head and laughing. That one sound drowned out the music, the bawdy comments, everything. It grew louder and louder, until it was all he could hear. Tony's cheeks flamed in embarrassment, and he fought to keep his body moving to the beat when all he really wanted to do was run away and hide in shame.
Suddenly a hand grabbed his hip, pushing him down while invasive fingers wriggled beneath his scanty attire and jammed brutally against his hole. Tony whirled on his attacker, only to find, man, hand, and fingers gone. Through the harsh glare of lights he saw the crowd scrambling out of the path of a bouncer, the big man dragging the offender across the floor and into the office.
A warm hand caught his arm and Tony jumped back in alarm, expecting another sweaty, leering face. Instead he saw his own reflection mirrored in a pair of dark glasses. Staring up at the bouncer who looked to be carved from ice, Tony could easily imagine how he'd gotten his name: Frost.
Link:
http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&manufacturers_id=293&products_id=2405Giselle RenardeCanada just got hotter!
http://www.wix.com/gisellerenarde/ero...
Festive Frenzy: An Angel for Christmas by Lily Grace
Title: An Angel For Christmas
Author: Lily Grace
My Website: http://lilygracetales.blogspot.com/
Buy link: http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=2970
Blurb:Sebastian has done the one thing a guardian angel is never supposed to do. He's fallen in love with a mortal. When his human falls into serious jeopardy, Sebastian descends to Earth without permission. Kevin's bartending job just doesn't pay enough, his mother's hospital bills keep piling up, and now he's borrowed money from the wrong person. He needs a miracle this Christmas season. Kevin just didn't expect it to come in the form of an actual angel. Not caring that he's breaking all the rules that govern guardian angels, Sebastian helps Kevin all he can. But the consequences of Sebastian's actions could be dire for the angel, unless Kevin can perform a miracle of his own.
Excerpt:Sebastian's eyes widened. He wasn't sure who was more shocked, he or Kevin. He hadn't meant to lower his guise of invisibility, but now it had happened twice in one night. Kevin distracted him. Sebastian had never been able to be this close to Kevin before. He had always had to look from so far away. The proximity overwhelmed him. He knew he had crossed too many lines to count back in the alley, but his punishment would be worth it. Watching Kevin sleep, being so close, knowing his mortal charge was safe... it was worth everything.
"Please, do not be frightened!" He held up his hands, voluminous sleeves falling down his arms to his elbows. "I mean you no harm." There was no going back now. No point in disappearing. The damage had been done.
Waves of terror and confusion washed over Kevin's face. His eyes were wide and blinking rapidly. Sebastian understood this would be difficult for him to understand. He waited patiently, giving Kevin a few moments to collect himself.
Kevin's hands came up to his face and rubbed furiously at his eyes. Sebastian smiled when Kevin looked surprised that he was still there. Kevin had beautiful eyes. They were so unusual. Blue-gray, like Cape Cod after a storm.
"Y...you're not real. I'm still dreaming." It came out as a statement.
"I promise you are awake." Sebastian tried to make his voice as gentle as possible.
"Who are you?" Kevin's voice was edged with astonishment and a small amount of fear. He pushed his back flush against the headboard and gripped handfuls of bedding tightly.
Sebastian took a chance and moved slightly closer, trying to offer reassurance with his smile. This was where Kevin would need to suspend disbelief and have a little faith.
"My name is Sebastian. I am your guardian angel."
"Right. I'm definitely still dreaming."
Kevin's hands once again went to his face, and he sighed deeply. At least he didn't look frightened anymore.
"This is a dream. I'm not crazy, and there are no such things as angels." He spoke more to himself than to Sebastian. "I'm going back to sleep. When I wake up, you won't be here."
Kevin reached for the bedside lamp, and once again the room was bathed in darkness. Burrowing under the covers, Kevin pulled the quilt up over his head as if that would make everything go away. Sebastian didn't blame him. Not really. Everything Kevin had been taught had told him that Sebastian couldn't be real. Sebastian still found that it hurt, though. He wanted Kevin to believe... needed him to. Hopefully things would be better in the morning. Sebastian wasn't going anywhere.
Sebastian moved to a sitting position near the end of the bed, keeping vigil over his charge until morning.
Buy link: http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=2970
Giselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!
http://www.wix.com/gisellerenarde/ero...
December 22, 2010
Festive Frenzy: Tenacious Bea and the Bite of Destiny
Title of Work: "Tenacious Bea and the Bite of Destiny" Author Name DC Juris Buy Link http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=2982
BLURB:
It's Christmas time, and Jenny couldn't care less! But when her toothless dog Tenacious Bea is accused of biting her neighbor, Jenny discovers that love and happiness are lurking just around the corner in the form of Anne from the Health Department. Anne feels horrible when she learns of the childhood tragedy that robbed Jenny of her Christmas spirit. With a little shove from destiny, and Tenacious Bea, she helps Jenny find her holiday cheer.
EXCERPT:
"Pretty, isn't it?" Anne took the moment to reveal herself. She strode into the living room, smiling and looking at the tree, too.
Jenny nodded silently and reached for her. "I called my mom."
Anne took Jenny's hand and squeezed it as she sat down. "I know. I was eavesdropping. Sorry. What did she say?"
"That she'd think about it." Jenny sighed heavily. "Which means no."
"Maybe not. You never know. After all, did you ever think you'd be reclining on your couch this morning, gazing at a tri-colored tree with a hot Asian chick?"
"I certainly did not." Jenny laughed and tears spilled down her cheeks.
"Aww, honey don't cry. You know what, if they come then great, but if they don't? Then to hell with them! It's their loss. You and I will have the best Christmas dinner we've had in a long time, with or without them, right?"
Jenny nodded.
Anne took Jenny's face in her hands and leaned toward her. She brought their lips together in a sweet kiss that trailed down Jenny's cheek and neck to end in nibbles along her collarbone.
Jenny shivered and pulled Anne close, running her fingers through the sleep-tousled spikes of her hair and rubbing her scalp gently. "You make me want to move way too fast, you know."
"Uh-huh." Anne slid her hands into Jenny's robe and around to tickle her fingers up and down Jenny's back. She sighed as Jenny arched against her. Her mind screamed at her to slow down, but everything else in her wanted more. "I want you, Jen. So damn bad. I know we should wait..."
"We really should." Jenny licked along Anne's jaw and up to her lips to kiss her again. "Come shower with me."
Buy Link http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&products_id=2982
Giselle RenardeCanada just got hotter!
http://www.wix.com/gisellerenarde/ero...
Festive Frenzy: Junk by G.R. Richards
Title of Work: JunkSequel to "Vintage Toys for Lucky Boys"A Gay Transgender Christmas RomanceBy: G.R. RichardsBuy Link: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=2075
"Junk" is the term Randy uses to describe the contents of innumerable storage boxes strewn about his boyfriend Max's living room, dining room, and even bedroom. All this "junk" is merchandise: Max and Randy deal in antiques and ephemera. The problem is that it's everywhere. Max is too emotionally attached to sell a lot of it, and Randy's starting to think material possessions mean more to Max than he does, just when he needs Max's support the most: at the beginning of Randy's transition from female to male.
Excerpt:
WHY do you want to change your name? Print all the reasons.
Randy stared at the clump of jumbled letters on the page. He really had to focus in order to make them into words again. Seven sections to fill out. The application was twenty pages long. He squinted at the blank lines waiting to be filled.
So, why did Randy want to change his name? He sighed before putting pen to paper. I am transgender, and I no longer wish to be known by my female name. I want to live the rest of my life as a man and be addressed by my male name in all government communications.
I am transgender. He'd never written those words down on paper before. They looked funny. Should he have put "transsexual" instead? That might sound more medical, make it seem like there would be some horrible health impact if the government didn't grant his request. Maybe he should write more. Should he? No, it was fine the way it was. Max was always telling him to maintain a positive outlook.
Certainly, transitioning from female to male seemed like a good reason for a name change to Randy, and to Max, and even to his mother, but the government made the final decision. Boy, was he ever lucky to have such a supportive mom, not to mention a boyfriend who fully accepted him as a guy. Randy smiled at the application form. This was the first step to being formally acknowledged as the man he knew he was. How could he not be happy?
The bells on the shop door jingled downstairs, and Randy's heart jumped into his throat. Shit! Max was back from the market already! He thought he'd have more time to work on this thing, but Max's feet were already thumping up the staircase. Randy considered cramming his application beneath the couch cushions, but he didn't want it to get all crumpled. Where could he hide a stack of paper?
Pulling last month's copy of Men's Health from the floor, Randy jammed his forms at the back. He tossed the magazine to the ground and picked up his laptop from the coffee table just as Max's heel hit the top step.
"I saw that," Max said, laughing. Randy's hunka hunka burning bleach blond boyfriend traipsed into the kitchen with a big black shopping bag in each hand. "Reading magazines when you're supposed to be getting the website up and running? For shame!"
Buy Link: http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/product_info.php?products_id=2075Giselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!
http://www.wix.com/gisellerenarde/ero...
December 21, 2010
FREE READ: Traditional Inuit Throat-Singing by Giselle Renarde
This story contains mature subject matter and explicit F/F sexual content
They went for the soapstone carvings. Rusidan's parents liked the little blue Inuksuks and polar bears, so that's what she and Sarah bought them every Christmas. Once you find a gift that works, you stick with it. It was a kind of Trojan Horse, they figured. Each little present ingratiated Sarah more and more to Rusidan's parents. If they could fill mom and dad's home with signifiers of Inuit culture, maybe they would begin to appreciate the incredible Inuk who'd been living with their daughter for almost four years. It wasn't much of a plan, but it seemed to be working. They were coming around. They might even like Sarah by the time she and Rusidan announced their wedding plans.
How fitting the city's first ever Celebration of the Arctic festival would coincide with the first major snowfall of the season. It was one of those days you'd normally only leave the house to do something really important, like give birth—if you were a city mouse like Rusidan, that is. If you were Sarah, born and raised in the frigid North, the city's storm barely qualified as a flurry. There was relativity, even in weather.
Though she'd never admit it, Sarah was eager to get to the modest celebration of her cultural heritage. Rusidan could always tell. Even so, Sarah looked out the window at the snow-capped pines and said, "It's okay. We don't have to go. No big deal."
"No way we're missing this!" Rusidan sang. "Get your boots on, Lucy! Don't you know you're in the city?"
"What?"
"Never mind," she laughed. That's what she got for spending eight hours a day in an "active lifestyle" seniors complex. Her outdated references were lost on everyone outside the workplace. "Just get dressed. We're not going to let a little snowfall keep us home."
Even by gazing at the back of her head, Rusidan could tell Sarah was smiling. Rusidan watched as she rested her forehead rested against the kitchen cupboard and washed up the two coffee cups and two cereal bowls from breakfast. Sarah's hair, tied back in an effortless ponytail, was the exact colour of a chestnut.
"You should wear your special parka," Rusidan encouraged, opening the closet door to sort through the lost land of dry cleaning bags. The anorak was pristine white with black bands stitched to create images of waterfowl across the front. The bands stretched around the wrists and the hood as well. Sarah wore it so rarely even the fringe of blue, red and black beads remained intact.
"I don't know. I don't want to get it dirty," Sarah objected. After draining the sink, she dried her hands on the premature Christmas dishtowels. "It's for special occasions."
"A Celebration of the Arctic is a special occasion," Rusidan encouraged.
"I want to save it for a special-er occasion," Sarah said with an almost imperceptible blush. Their wedding. So she was serious about getting married in the snow…?
"Well, it's not a bandage you use once and throw away. If it gets dirty, we'll have it cleaned." When Rusidan held the anorak up against her girl, Sarah ran her fingers across the beaded fringe like a child plucking tentatively at guitar strings. "You should wear it."
Sarah smiled slightly, as if taken to sea by an unrelated thought. "Yeah, okay."
That girl never could betray her inner feelings. It kept her mysterious, sure, but it was frustrating at times. She couldn't just say, "Yeah, I'm excited about this." Of course, that was the very quality Rusidan fell in love with: the whole take-it-or-leave-it attitude. Other girls were so needy. Sarah always kept a cautious distance. Problem was, that eternal vigilance never faded away. Sarah would always be distant and, if they were going to be married, that was something Rusidan was just going to have to swallow.
They had to take the subway almost to the end of the line to get to the festivities, but anything was better than trying to negotiate roads that wouldn't be cleared before noon. The storm subsided, leaving the city with falling snow, fluffy like cotton balls—Sarah's favourite kind of weather. Rusidan liked it too, because Sarah did. The showing of city dwellers at the outdoor festival was disappointing, but at least the exhibitors could take some consolation in knowing it was because of the storm. Or maybe the visitors from up North didn't realize the modest snowfall they'd experienced was considered a storm nearer to the 49th parallel. Maybe they figured Southern Canada just wasn't interested in their lives. Worse yet, maybe they were right.
"What should we do first?" Rusidan asked, overcompensating with enthusiasm. "It's your day!"
Sarah cracked a smile. "Let's see if they're selling muktut!"
"I don't know what that is."
Shaking her head, Sarah explained, "Muktut was my favourite treat as a kid. It's whale blubber."
Scrunching her nose, Rusidan replied, "Yummy…"
"Oh, like deep fried chicken skin is so much better," Sarah laughed.
Rusidan hadn't seen her so giddy in ages. She had no idea how much Sarah missed her culture, living so far away from her family. Thank God they'd battled the snow to get there. It was definitely worth the journey. While Rusidan wandered toward the vendors, Sarah ran off to find the kind of food she remembered from her youth.
"They didn't have muktut, so I got caribou jerky. Try some!" Sarah beamed. It wasn't terrible, Rusidan had to admit. "Before we shop for your mom and dad's gift, we should visit the indoor pavilion. Some of the athletes getting ready for the Arctic Winter Games are in there showing off."
Who outside the Arctic had ever heard of Arctic Winter Games? Not Rusidan, that was certain.
"After that, we can watch the throat-singing," Sarah suggested.
If ever you have the opportunity to witness first-hand the magnificent spectacle that is Inuit throat-singing, don't pass it by. There is nothing on this planet so cosmically beautiful.
On an outdoor stage stood two young women, nothing but a microphone between them. Gripping one another, hands on forearms, they cuddled so close together their faces nearly touched. They sang a capella and needed no accompaniment. One began before the other, producing a breathy sound. Lower than low, like a sub-sonic pant, the beat of her chant pushed forward like a freight train. How could a female voice produce tones so deeply resonant?
Her partner joined in, filling the gaps. The second starter vocalized at a higher pitch, singing in fleeting, orgasmic sounds. It was like nothing ever heard in popular music. The effect was intriguing, transfixing, visceral, resonating in the core of Rusidan's being. Rhythmic vibrations rumbled her body like the bass line at a rock concert. Who'd have thought throat-singing could be such a turn-on? Sexual and spiritual, it was the sound of divine union. Those women must have been romantic partners, Rusidan thought. The way they focused on one another, with their faces so close they could kiss, gave them away. They rocked one another's bodies, pushing and pulling outstretched arms along with the music. They danced to the very song they created. It was stunning. Beyond stunning. It was spellbinding.
With a burst of laughter, they broke away from each other. The second partner giggled, giving the first a playful push as if to deny their beautiful act had ever taken place. Throat-singing
represented pure female sensuality, to Rusidan. It seemed almost tawdry that she should witness their show of intimacy. As the women came down from the stage to circulate, she asked Sarah if was customary for women to perform this ritual act in front of other people.
"It's just a game," Sarah replied, rolling her eyes.
Rusidan was taken aback. "What do you mean?"
"Throat-singing is a competition to see who can keep going the longest," Sarah explained. "We used to play at recess, like have a bit of a tournament. Two girls started out, and the first one to laugh was the loser. The winner played the next girl, and it kept going until the best one beat everyone else."
Unable to conceal her disappointment, Rusidan said, "It's just a game? But what about…"
An unfamiliar voice interrupted their conversation. "Sarah! Aksunai, Sarah! Over here."
The ebullient greeting came from behind, and Sarah's gaze followed it over Rusidan's shoulder. She turned to see one of the throat-singers waving in their direction. It was the "loser," the one who'd laughed first. She was a beautiful moon-faced girl with short stylish hair, molasses-coloured with golden highlights.
"You know her?" Rusidan exclaimed.
"I know them both. We grew up together."
"Why didn't you say so? Tell me, are they…" She couldn't get the question out before the throat-singing pair huddled in beside them.
"Aksutik," Sarah greeted the pair. She didn't appear overjoyed to see them. Her face was dark and still like a Halloween mask.
The winning singer, a tallish woman with hair in a long ponytail, stared down at her shoes. Sarah did the same. What was that all about?
Somebody had to compensate for her juvenile pouting. Disturbed by the tension, Rusidan gushed, "That was incredible, what you two did on stage. I was moved, truly. You have no idea."
"Thanks," bubbled the girl with the warm green eyes. "It's so great that we're getting the chance to do this. I've never been to the big city before."
Shoving her mittened hands in the pockets of her parka, Sarah lowered her head in a full-on glower. Rusidan struggled not to grit her teeth—bad for the enamel. Turning back to the moon-faced Inuk, she asked, "How are you liking the trip?"
"People get all worked up about a little bit of snow," the taller woman snapped.
The hush was deadly until the smaller girl compensated. "I like it here. There are so many people living their lives in all kinds of ways. Even though there's not much space to move around here in the city, there's mental space. There's open-mindedness. It's different where we're from, right Sarah?"
Sarah exhaled loudly through flared nostrils. Just when Rusidan was convinced her partner wasn't going to respond, she answered with a reluctant, "Yeah."
When nobody said anything, Rusidan started to ask how long the women had been performing together just as the moon-faced girl began her introductions. "This is Palluq and I'm Laura. If Sarah didn't mention it, Palluq is…"
"…a fucking cunt, is what Palluq is!" Sarah erupted, turning on her heels to stomp away through snow up to her knees. Of course, Rusidan's impulse was to follow, to console, but she knew from experience what that would look like. She would run after Sarah, pawing at her arm, asking what was wrong. Sarah would shift her hands away, claiming it was nothing. Just leave me alone. What was the point in going after her? If Sarah needed space, let Sarah have her space. Plus, sadly, Rusidan was more likely to get the inside scoop from this Laura girl than her own partner.
"What was that all about?" Rusidan asked, trying to keep her tone casual.
Even Laura said nothing.
"So…" Rusidan began, searching for an inane question to ask the performers. "Do you do this for a living, throat-singing? Or is it just a hobby?"
The taller woman, Palluq, threw her head back and cackled.
"We're semi-professional, I guess you'd say," Laura clarified.
"There isn't a hell of a lot of money in the throat-singing industry," Palluq carried on, her tone a little on the demeaning side. "It was almost a lost art, you know. We Inuk forgot the good it did us. Now it's coming back into its own, after all that self-righteous Christian malice."
Without thinking, Rusidan covered the cross around her neck. Like they could even see it, buried under thermal underwear, a sweater and a winter coat.
"She probably doesn't know about the ban," Laura said to Palluq.
"What ban?" Rusidan asked.
Flicking the cotton ball snowflakes from her hair, Laura replied, "Throat-singing was banned for, like, a hundred years."
"The Christian priests murdered our culture, slaughtered everything about us that was unique. Tried to, at least," Palluq accused. Rusidan covered over her cross with both hands.
"That's a little harsh, don't you think?" Laura tempered.
"Don't be such a wimp," Palluq replied, a little too loudly. Other people turned to look. Meeting Rusidan's gaze for the first time—and nearly bowling her over with the most intense eyes she'd ever seen—Palluq continued, "Our people didn't have written histories. Throat-singing is a part of us, a part of our history, and we were robbed of it for more than a hundred years by men who had no right. Any attempt to destroy our oral history is an attempt to obliterate us as a people. And see how well that worked? People like me and Laura are rebuilding, yeah, but it takes effort. If we weren't willing to try, fifty years from now it would be like we never existed."
Laura latched her hand around the arm of Rusidan's jacket. Beaming, the moon-faced girl rolled her eyes and said, "Don't listen to Palluq; she's an extremist. We do this because we love it." This Laura girl obviously played the softener, always trying to make her partner more palatable.
A hint of a smile broke across Palluq's lips, so that Rusidan didn't quite believe her when she said, "Not me. I'm just in it for the politics."
The tension broke like a dandelion blossom and Rusidan's lungs started taking in air again. "So, do you really hate our city so much?" she asked.
"No," Palluq replied, intonation rising then falling. "It's important for us to come all the way down here to the cities to show that, yeah, we Inuit are still here. We've held on to our culture. Sure, those bastards tried to annihilate us, but we're still here."
Rusidan wasn't sure if she was more like the bastards or the throat-singers. In defensive mode, perhaps, she said, "My parents came here from Georgia when I was two." Did she expect them to realize her intent? To show that she, that her family, hadn't been the ones oppressing their people? "Georgia the country, not Georgia the state."
Laura fished for something in her pocket before asking, "Georgia…in Africa?"
"No, Geography Drop-Out!" Palluq teased with a playful punch to her arm. "It's near Russia. Anyway, we're back on in five, so we gotta go." Turning her gaze back, she then asked, "What did you say your name was?"
"Rusidan."
"Rusidan. Write that down, will ya, Laura?" With that, Palluq headed back to the stage without offering even the customary goodbye.
Before following her, Laura clasped Rusidan tightly by the arm. "Tell Sarah we miss her and we love her. Not just me; Palluq too, and everyone else. We hope she's having a good life way down here."
"I hope so too…" Rusidan replied. It was so hard to tell.
* * *
When Rusidan arrived at their front door, she could hear the hockey game right through it even before she put the key in the lock. Everything was back to normal. Sarah was sprawled on the couch, her eyes fixed on the TV. Rusidan dropped her keys into the metal bowl in the front hall from enough of a height that they made a loud clinking noise. Sarah didn't turn around. Opening the fridge, Rusidan peered inside, then opted instead for a cup of hot chocolate. From the kitchen, she watched her lover lie there on the couch as the kettle reached its boiling point.
"Do you want some hot chocolate?"
Sarah held up her beer in response.
The kettle rumbled. "If that's supposed to mean no thank you, then fucking say, no thank you." When the automatic shut-off clicked, Rusidan snapped. "What's more important, the hockey game or having a real conversation with the woman you say you want to marry? And what the fuck, Sarah? Would you like to tell me what the fuck that was all about, today? We were having a good time, you were happier than I've ever seen you, then you have to go and fucking ruin it! What the fuck?"
Sarah turned off the TV, gazing blankly at Rusidan's reflection in the black screen. Setting her beer on the side table, she glided off the couch and onto the carpet. "Come, sit."
Feeling like her lungs were bound in plastic wrap, Rusidan dragged her heels over to the living room carpet. Sarah was going to tell her she didn't want to get married anymore. They should break up. That Palluq girl was her first love and she realized today how much she'd missed having an Inuk for a girlfriend. Reluctantly, she sat cross-legged before her partner, but Sarah hooked her feet around her back, encouraging Rusidan to do the same.
"Were they…that Palluq girl…"
With blue light glowing in from the snow-land outside, Sarah placed her hands on Rusidan's cheeks. She kissed her lips slowly, tenderly, and then kissed her nose like a playful afterthought. "Palluq's my cousin."
Fears much assuaged, Rusidan smiled broadly.
"She's the one who told my parents I'm a dyke. She's the reason I'm an outcast."
Rusidan's smile faded. She felt somehow like she'd done something wrong. "What about Laura? She seemed really happy to see you. Oh, and she wanted me to let you know they love you and miss you and hope your life is going well."
Her gaze fell to the floor, and then rebounded until it met Rusidan's. Sarah replied, "That's my sister for ya. She always was the caregiver."
It wasn't wise to probe for information. Instead, Rusidan grazed Sarah's upturned wrists with her fingertips, brushing them slowly up her forearms and into her elbow pits. Sarah gasped. That was good to hear. Working up the nerve, Rusidan asked, "Will you teach me throat-singing? I want to try."
Closing the gap between their bellies, Sarah offered, "We could do it the old way."
"What's the old way?"
"In the old days, the women would sing with their lips almost touching. They'd use each other's mouths as a resonator, like if you speak when you're about to drink from a glass. The sound is amplified."
Rusidan could nearly lick Sarah's lips, her mouth hovered so close by. Her lover grasped her forearms just like Laura and Palluq had done. "Wait, I don't know what to do," Rusidan pre-empted.
"It isn't easy," Sarah admitted. "Just follow my lead; we'll do it like a copycat game. I'll start with a sound and you just give it right back to me, but maybe on a higher vocal tone. It takes a lot of practise to get that deep resonance. Just remember it's like a repetition, but it moves fast. You sing in my gaps. Does that make sense?"
"I think so."
Barley-sweet breath filled the air as Sarah began a series of deep pants. Breathy moans filled Rusidan's awestruck mouth as she began to echo her partner. The sounds she produced were not so low, but they were breathy like the lead-up to an orgasm. They melted into Sarah's mouth, their singing melding to create something more powerful than music. It was prayer. It was…
A coughing fit seized Rusidan by the chest. She wanted to push forward, but she hadn't taken in enough air. "Circular breathing," Sarah advised, petting her back until the sputtering subsided. "You have to breathe in your gaps or else you'll faint."
"Am I supposed to be saying words in your language?" Rusidan inquired.
"Doesn't matter. You can sing words or just whatever sounds come out."
"Okay, meaningless sounds it is," Rusidan said, "since I don't speak Inuktitut."
"No, not meaningless," Sarah replied. "The sounds you produce reflect your environment, whether they come out as birdsongs or animal howls or the murmurs of sealife deep underwater. Or they could reflect children's laughter on the playground or the cacophony of the city streets. Even nonsense sounds have meaning."
Rusidan breathed deeply, ruminating with her partner's words. Who knew such insight was enclosed in the sacred temple that was Sarah? Deep waters, and all that…
"Lie back for a sec," Sarah instructed with a keen glint in her eye. "No, get up on the couch. That's better." Pulling off Rusidan's cords and long underwear, Sarah sat before her, releasing hot breath on her lower lips. Clever little horn-dog! If Sarah wanted those deep moans to reverberate in Rusidan's cunt, this sure was the best way to do it. "Now you don't need to worry about losing."
As Sarah approached the unfolding layers of Rusidan's pussy, she produced those sounds like the chugging of an ethereal steam train. Lips touched lips and Rusidan leaped from her skin at the sheer electricity. She seemed to hover above her body as her hands flew backwards to grasp the sofa. Her cunt filled with the vibrations of Sarah's meaningful non-words. Shivering and drooling, her body expanded like a mind in meditation. Laura had said the space of the city wasn't a landscape, but a mindscape. This communion with the cunt was an element of the life Sarah couldn't lead back home.
To the deep moaning pants, Rusidan replied with soft puffs of air. She sang in Sarah's gaps. As the pace of her lover's vibrating syllables increased, so did the swirling pleasure against Rusidan's swollen lips. Her cunt filled with trembling pulsations, like a seashell imparting the secrets of its source. It was a rolling feeling, a continuity, being pulled in a cart over a series of small hills, bouncing a little when she hit the bottom, then working back up again, falling again. Yes, it was a rising and a falling, singing and gasping, giving and taking, feeling and sensing.
Rusidan grasped Sarah's hair, completing the trembling circle of sound emanating from her partner's core, rising up through her own. Her legs were shaking, and her feet quivering uncontrollably. Sarah's throat-singing was lost in Rusidan's body. It was a feeling more than a sound. The music was so deep, so resonant, it was like another voice coming through Sarah, coming through Rusidan. It was a spirit voice and, though it spoke in a whisper, it was all she could hear.
Filled with glowing, pulsating warmth, Rusidan rubbed her swollen clit against Sarah's nose. Its puffs of warm air were no match for the heat of her cunt. Vibrations were everywhere, taking over her body right to her fingertips as she struggled to press her pussy lips into her lover's willing face. Sarah sang harder, moaning sympathetically, but Rusidan was the first to break. She lost the game with an explosion of celestial laughter, like the happy Buddha.
When Sarah settled her cheek against Rusidan's bare thigh, she revealed what the spirit voice had whispered. "We should get married at Christmas."
* * *
The simple ceremony took place in the snow. There were no great surprises. They knew very well which of the invited guests would attend and which would not. They made the effort to reach out, and that was the best they could do. On Christmas Day, the winter sun sparkled against the crystalline blanket of white embracing their wonderland. Rusidan chose a long red jacket and a 1920's-style cloche hat. Sarah wore her special parka. Their aisle was a tree-lined path, and they walked it to the mesmerizing music of Laura and Palluq's traditional Inuit throat-singing.
The End
Giselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!
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http://twitter.com/GiselleRenardeGiselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!
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Festive Frenzy: The Gingerbread Man by Selena Kitt
Title of Work: Gingerbread Man
Author Name: Selena Kitt
Buy Link: http://excessica.com/store/catalog/product_info.php?manufacturers_id=14&products_id=498&osCsid=8b23d8627c23305f1cc2c60e9ec833bc
Blurb: Lindy runs into an unexpected snow storm on the way to her fiance's on Christmas Eve, but will the charming, kindly gentleman who comes to her rescue turn out to be more saccharine than sweet? Note: This story originally appeared in the anthology Shivers
Excerpt:
The exit ramp was steep and curved dangerously down to the right. Lindy crept forward as slowly as she could manage. She stopped at the stop sign, looking through the white haze for a gas station. There was one to the left and she turned onto the little two-lane road, inching along the slippery pavement. There were no cars anywhere, and it wasn't until she was nearly on top of it that she realized the gas station's lights were out, and there were no cars there, either.
She eased the Corvette up to the front of the building, reading the sign in the window: "Closed for Christmas."
"It's not Christmas yet," she grumbled, trying to see into the distance. Was there a gas station the other way? The car fishtailed again as she pulled out of the parking lot and Lindy swore, turning into the swerve, just like Robert had taught her. The rear end corrected itself with a little shimmy and she breathed a sigh of relief as she headed back the other way, searching for the familiar markings of another gas station.
The road stretched on in the gray afternoon light, the few houses and wide fields on each side blanketed with snow. She carefully re-set the odometer, deciding to go a mile from the highway to see if she could find something, even a little party store with a pay phone. If she weren't in such a hurry to get to Robert's for Christmas, the drive down the little two-lane blacktop might have been enjoyable. The scenery was beautiful, the trees overhanging the road creaking under the weight of the snow. It was the thick, heavy stuff, the kind that muffled the world and covered it like some kept secret.
Lindy kept her eye on the odometer as she crept along, seeing it nearing the mile mark. So far she had only seen a smattering of houses interspersed among the snow-covered fields and nothing in the way of a store or gas station. Should she turn around? She wondered. The snow seemed to be easing up just a little. Maybe she should get back on the highway and drive to the next exit?
Up ahead on the left she saw a house decorated with Christmas lights, the front walk lined thickly with candy canes all the way up to the ornately carved front porch. It was a Victorian style home, something Robert really would have appreciated with his eye for architecture, with all the curls and spires and cupolas that went along with it. Lindy smiled, and thought of how she would relay this whole experience to Robert.
She would tell him how quaint and beautiful her little side trip was when she was tucked up safe and warm in his arms in bed tonight, the anticipation of the announcement of their engagement to his family the next day curled into a tight little ball in her stomach. She glanced down at the ring on her finger glinting in the gray light, even without a hint of sun, lost in the thought about the man who had put it on her finger.
That's why she missed seeing the wolf in the road before it was too late.
It was standing in the middle of the blacktop, teeth bared, hackles raised, its eyes two glittering points, staring straight at her. Lindy screamed, knowing her first impression, that it was a wolf, was mistaken as she turned the wheel to avoid a collision, seeing it briefly out of her driver's side window. It was an enormous husky dog, its fat tail curling high as it ran, disappearing into the ditch on the other side of the road.
She had time to curse Robert's choice of vehicle and her agreement to pick it up from storage and drive it up to him—but just barely. The Corvette spun over the road like a top and she braced herself for impact, turning the wheel uselessly, her foot on the brake doing nothing but locking the tires into place. The car slid sideways, down into the ditch opposite where the dog had disappeared, and came to jerking halt.
Her first thought was Robert was going to kill her if anything had happened to the car. The embankment wasn't steep and in spite of the abrupt stop, she didn't think she had hit anything. The rear-end of the vehicle was angled into the ditch and she checked her rearview mirror, but all she could see was white powder and the waft of exhaust. At least she wasn't buried in the snow.
Lindy took a deep, shaky breath, easing her foot gently off the brake. She had been pressing her foot down so hard it ached from the effort. Nothing happened. Giving the car a little gas, she waited for it to jerk forward, but again, nothing happened.
"Come on, come on, come on." She pressed her foot down on the gas pedal, hearing the sound of the tires spinning in the snow. "Please."
It was no use. Sighing, she reached for her cell phone, flipping it open. It read "Low Battery" in the window still. She flipped through her "contacts" and found the eight-hundred number for AAA. Surely someone would be working, even on Christmas Eve? If the phone would work for just a few minutes…
"Please." She pressed the "talk" button and waited. Ringing! She sighed in relief, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the seat.
A rapping on her window made her gasp and jerk her head up. She flicked the window lock and pressed the button, waiting as the glass slid down, revealing a man in a long, wool coat, pulling it closed against the snow and wind. He wasn't wearing a hat and his salt and pepper hair was covered in a melting sheen of snow that was replaced by new flakes almost immediately.
"You need some help, miss?" The man bent his tall frame in to peer at her. "I saw you spin out. I live across the road there."
"Oh yes, thank you so much!" Lindy sighed in relief. "If I could just use your phone…"
She rolled up her window as she struggled with the door and the man helped her pull it open through the drift of snow. They were only able to get it halfway and the car was at such an angle he had to grab her arm to keep her from falling as she stepped out. She gave him a grateful smile, glad she had worn her sensible boots. Ever practical, she reached back in to grab the keys and her purse.
"I can't thank you enough!" She closed the door and locked it. "My cell phone died and I didn't know what I was going to do."
"That was some spin-out." He shook his head, holding her arm as they carefully crossed the icy pavement. "You're lucky it wasn't worse."
"I know!" Lindy let him help her as they walked carefully down the road. "That's the second time tonight… I should have just stayed home."
They trudged up the street, both of them hugging their coats around them, heads down to the wind. The snow, which Lindy had been sure was going to ease up, had resumed in full force, and she turned her collar up to it. It wasn't until they reached the walkway that she recognized the house, the old Victorian all decorated for Christmas.
There were so many lights on the house, it was like a beacon in the gray afternoon. Rows of red and white peppermint candies with lights in their centers lined the huge wraparound porch and each window as well. Fat multi-colored lights rimmed the roof and each ridge and cupola like Jujubes. Candy canes as tall as Lindy lined the walkway, each less than a foot apart, and she smiled up at the sign hanging over the door: "The Gingerbread House."
"I won't meet an old witch inside waiting with a hot oven, will I?" she teased as the man helped her up the stairs.
He flashed her a brief smile as he opened the door. "Not unless your name is Gretel?"
"No, I'm Lindy." She laughed, following him. The house was warm and inviting, but it was the smell she noticed first, the sweetness of baking, something like cake or cookies.
"Well, I'm the Gingerbread Man…"
Canada just got hotter!
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Festive Frenzy: The Match Before Christmas by Eden Winters
The Match Before Christmas by Eden Winters
Link:
http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&manufacturers_id=293&products_id=2973
Blurb:
Candlelight, mistletoe, gaily wrapped packages beneath a trimmed tree, and someone to share it with. That's all contractor Barry Richards wants for Christmas. Desperate for a traditional holiday, he takes drastic measures. Creating a profile on "GetaDate.com," he hopes to find the perfect man in a matter of weeks. When one date after another goes sour, while all around him friends are falling in love, he starts to lose faith.
The first snows begin to fall and the world is filled with seasonal cheer, all except for Barry, for whom time is running out. Facing the prospect of a lonely holiday, he tries just once more to make The Match Before Christmas.
Snippet:
It took a full week and lots of careful screening before he was ready to try someone suggested by the dating service again. Bobby was a bit younger than Barry really wanted, twenty-two, but they shared a lot of the same interests. They met at a coffee shop downtown, followed by a movie, an action-adventure thriller. This date was quiet, saying more with expressions than with words, and very touchy-feely, which didn't bother Barry at all, being a cuddler at heart.
When the lights went down in the theater, Bobby laced his fingers with Barry's, holding on throughout the film. Barry found it sweet. Afterward, Bobby suggested a favorite Chinese restaurant. Things were going fine until, "Jeff used to bring me here."
"Jeff?"
"My ex-boyfriend."
"Oh." While Barry would never dream of mentioning an ex on a first date, Bobby was young and probably didn't know better.
Barry ordered sweet and sour chicken. Bobby sniffled. "That was Jeff's favorite, too." Unshed tears filled his eyes. If he'd left it at that, they still might have had a chance. However, Jeff's name came up when Barry ordered green tea, requested extra sweet and sour sauce, and even when Barry said Bobby's name.
"Jeff used to say my name like you do."
Huh? How many ways could one say, "Bobby"?
The coup de grâce of the budding acquaintance occurred when, after four hours together, Bobby asked, "What was your name again?" Barry started to say "Jeff" for spite. At least that the guy could probably remember.
At the end of the meal, Barry's curiosity finally got the better of him. "What happened to Jeff, if you don't mind my asking?"
"Oh, he was found beaten to death in his apartment a month ago. But don't worry; I've been cleared as a suspect."
Barry raised his hand, frantically gesturing for the server. "Check, please!"
***
Link:
http://www.torquerebooks.com/index.php?main_page=product_info&manufacturers_id=293&products_id=2973
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December 20, 2010
Festive Frenzy: All The Way by Giselle Renarde
All the Wayby Giselle Renarde
eXcessica Publishing
When Josie invites her long-ago boyfriend Kaz to stay with her family over the holidays, there are a few things she doesn't anticipate. Kaz admitting he's still a virgin after all these years? That's a weird surprise. Her husband Rob's attempt to give Kaz a little relief in the hot tub? A weird and very sexy surprise. But what about the threesomes in the attic, bedroom, and living room, followed by Josie's jealousy when Kaz falls for her older sister? Nope, she didn't see that one coming.
Buy Link: http://excessica.com/store/catalog/product_info.php?cPath=28&products_id=490&os
Warnings: This title contains graphic language and depictions of M/F sex, M/M sex, and M/M/F ménage.
Adult Excerpt from "All the Way":
Josie ran across the deck in flip-flops, kicking them off as she threw her towel over the cleared deck chair. The cold didn't even manage to catch her up before she could slip her skin beneath the surface of the warm, warm water. It bubbled away like a witch's brew as she leaned into the jets next to Rob. She reached for his hand as he reached for hers, and they found each other's thighs instead, which was just as good. Kaz sat across from them, which seemed fortuitous. Even together in the same hot bubbles, they could get away with murder under the hydric hum of the tub.
"Your head's not too cold?" Rob called to Kaz over the noise.
"Huh?" Kaz replied, placing a hand behind his ear. "I can't hear you."
"Perfect," Rob whispered to Josie as he slipped his fingers between her legs.
Kaz shrugged and closed his eyes, at one with his jets. His seat was roughly the same as Josie's, with water flows attacking the stress in her lower back, upper back, mid back, not to mention her butt cheeks. The one thing Kaz didn't have was a husband's naughty fingers creeping under turquoise bathing bottoms.
The wetness that dear hubby came across was more than just pool water. It was the very nectar of Josie's lust for him. God, she wanted him so bad! But she couldn't very well mount her man with Kaz across the way, even if his eyes were closed. What she could do was squirm out of her bottoms and hold them tight in one hand while she worked her way down to Rob's cock with the other hand. The very solidity of it made her gasp—or perhaps that was the fingers slowly stroking her clit.
Though she tried not to make much noise while he played with her pussy, it wouldn't make much difference over the jets. She took a firm hold of his cock, dragging her hand up to the tip until she could feel that skin-on-skin sensation she loved so much. Handjobs were fun, both giving and getting. She opened her legs wide, tossing her thigh over Rob's as he snuck a wayward finger into her wet slit. Pressing her lips together, she breathed in hard. As he pierced her and penetrated her body with his fingers, she set his cock against her outer thigh and gave it a good smack. Rob loved that; she could see it in his eyes. He reached up deep inside her to rub that sweet spot marked with a g and Josie went wild.
Pressing his palm flat against her clit, he rubbed it in circles. Josie almost felt guilty. There was no way what she was doing to him even half equalled the pleasure he was giving her. Wrapping her fist around his cockhead, she teased the tip alone, pulling on it while she cupped it in her hand. Rob liked being hard in her hands. He like the pressure and the jerking. She liked it too. She liked the rubbing feeling inside her body compounded by the swirling motion on her clit as he stroked it in circles.
Her pleasure mounted as she watched the enjoyment on his face. His lips formed the words I love you before he threw his head back in ecstasy. He held on tight to her pussy, like he'd caught her with a curiously finger-like fish hook. She writhed against his static hold, never letting go of his cock as she ground her pussy against his hand. His palm on her clit felt so good beyond good she couldn't contain herself. Just as a wayward cry escaped her lips, the hot tub clicked and she knew she had to shut her mouth because the bubbles were going to stop in three…two…one…
Silence.
Kaz opened his eyes wide.***
All the Way by Giselle Renarde
Buy Link: http://excessica.com/store/catalog/product_info.php?cPath=28&products_id=490&os
Giselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!
Visit me online
http://donutsdesires.blogspot.com
http://www.wix.com/gisellerenarde/eroticahttp://twitter.com/GiselleRenardeGiselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!
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Gifts for Twits
twittens!(Ahem...yes, but they're gloves, not mittens...sorry, what were you saying?)
According to twittens.ca (Hey, they're Canadian so they must be awesome!):
twittens are truly the gloves of the text generation: easily access your thumb and/or forefinger to allow for easy texting, photography and endless other things - even in the coldest weather.Well, there you have it! Perfect for eating donuts, too. They're the gift that'll make your Christmas grand, and you can buy them...uh...hmm...well, actually the online store isn't set up yet and the only retail locations are in Belleville and London, Ontario, so...
Sorry, forget I said anything. You can't have them. You didn't really want them anyway, did you?
Oh, a wise guy, eh? nyuk, nyuk, nyuk.Giselle Renarde
Canada just got hotter!
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