Cheyenne Blue's Blog, page 22

Why I've Never Had an Abortion

I'm linking to this most excellent post by LittleReview – Why I've Never Had an Abortion. This is the post I wish I'd written. Every time I try to write something like this, I end up sounding inflammatory.

Bad sex – so wonderfully addictive

Not actual bad sex, but the UK Literary Review's annual Bad Sex Awards.

I'm a bit late on this — the results were out in December 2011, but I've just stumbled across it as I was googling to see if the latest novel by the amazing, incomparable Haruki Murakami is available in paperback. Yes, it is. Yay! And it's a bad sex finalist. Not so yay, but having read a few of them, I have to say it's a good pick.

*smooches California*

Prop 8 has been declared unconstitutional. The judge said Prop 8:

"served no purpose, and had no effect, other than to lessen the status and human dignity of gays and lesbians in California, and to officially reclassify their relationship and families as inferior to those of opposite-sex couples."

Well, duh.

Congratulations California.

Australia isn't forgotten here. You can sign the petition for marriage equality here or you can petition the ex-priest with big ears and budgie smugglers to allow the opposition a conscience vote on the issue here

Go for it!

I feel so virtuous!

I have just climbed Mt Cooroora. Before breakfast.

It's only 4km return (that link lies) but it's a volcanic plug that stands 485 metres. Most of the "walk" is a scramble up rocks, the odd bit of concrete step, 3 flights of metal stairs, and some extremely slippery shale. There's a chain to hang on to for the worst bits, but it still breaks your balls.

They have a King of the Mountain Race every July. Participants start and finish in the township of Pomoma and so add on an extra 2 or 3 kms to the distance. The record is 22 minutes. 22 freaking minutes for a near vertical race. I am beyond impressed. It took us about 1 hour 45 minutes return.

Of course, then we came home and ate hash browns, fried eggs, mushrooms, tomatoes and a huge plate of tropical fruit, so any virtue in mountain climbing before breakfast is overruled.

And then I made Tomato Kasundi.

INGREDIENTS

50g fresh ginger, peeled

50g garlic cloves, peeled

2 green chillies, split and seeded

1 large onion, peeled and roughly chopped

1 tablespoon black mustard seeds

2 sprigs curry leaves

1 tablespoon turmeric

2 tablespoons ground cumin

1 tablespoon paprika or chilli powder (or a combination)

1 tablespoon dry mustard

½ cup vegetable oil

½ cup brown malt vinegar

1½ kg roma tomatoes wash and roughly chopped

1 cup sugar

1½ tablespoon salt

METHOD

Blend ginger, garlic, chillies and onion to a paste in a blender.

Heat a large pot and add half of the oil and mustard seeds and fry until they 'pop'. Add curry leaves and stir as you add them as they will splutter. Add the remaining spices and garlic and chilli paste and cook another minute or until fragrant.

Add the remaining ingredients and bring to a boil. Reduce heat; simmer, stirring occasionally, for about 1 hour or until thick and 'jammy'.

Spoon into sterilised jars with a layer of remaining oil on top. Cap and store — improves with age.

Now, if I could write something my day would be complete!

Locker Room

I have a story, "Run, Jo, Run" coming out this year in "Locker Room " edited by Ily Goyanes. The publication date seems to be fall 2012, but details are sketchy at this early stage, so I have no cover or table of contents to share as yet.

The anthology is a lesbian one with a sporty theme. I love sporty! And although my story is one about running, I don't need an excuse to post this pic again:

I play tennis (badly), and I run (slowly), and swim (flounderingly). Then there's boxercise, step aerobics, weights, bushwalking. I guess you could say I'm the sporty type. So yeah, I'm looking forward to seeing this anthology hit the shelves.

I'm not sure yet who else is in there. Anyone want to pipe up and share?

Best Lesbian Romance 2012

Best Lesbian Romance 2012 is out. Here's the gorgeous cover (OK, here's not the cover, as I can't save it from Amazon for some reason) but here it is on Amazon.

My story "Rule 4″ is included here, along with stories by such wonderful authors as Lisabet Sarai, JL Merrow, Rachel Kramer Bussel and Evan Mora.

Here's an excerpt from my story, "Rule 4″:

"Rule 4," I'd told Jazz one evening, a few years ago, when I'd lost another housemate after we'd ended up in bed after Mexican food and margaritas. To me she'd been a friend with benefits; to her, I'd been The One.

"What's Rule 4?"

"Never seduce a housemate. Keep it separate."

"What are rules 1 through 3?"

"I dunno. I'll think of them later."

I'd had many housemates since that time, and many lovers, but since the instigation of Rule 4, they had never overlapped. And I'd never been particularly tempted – until Joanna.

Best Lesbian Romance 2012 is out. Here's the gorgeous co...

Best Lesbian Romance 2012 is out. Here's the gorgeous cover (OK, here's not the cover, as I can't save it from Amazon for some reason) but here it is on Amazon.

My story "Rule 4″ is included here, along with stories by such wonderful authors as Lisabet Sarai, JL Merrow, Rachel Kramer Bussel and Evan Mora.

Here's an excerpt from my story, "Rule 4″:

"Rule 4," I'd told Jazz one evening, a few years ago, when I'd lost another housemate after we'd ended up in bed after Mexican food and margaritas. To me she'd been a friend with benefits; to her, I'd been The One.

"What's Rule 4?"

"Never seduce a housemate. Keep it separate."

"What are rules 1 through 3?"

"I dunno. I'll think of them later."

I'd had many housemates since that time, and many lovers, but since the instigation of Rule 4, they had never overlapped. And I'd never been particularly tempted – until Joanna.

Bacon and Bunya Quiche

This is what I made this morning:

Bunya Nut and Bacon Quiche

Pastry: 1 cup self raising flour, half a cup finely ground bunya nuts, 2 tablespoons butter or margarine, 1 tablespoon chopped parsley, a squeeze of lemon juice, salt to taste, enough water to bind. Mix all the ingredients together to make a soft dough and roll out for a quiche. Bake blind 15 mins.

Fill with bacon, sauteed onion, fresh thyme, chopped bunya nuts, and beaten eggs and cream. Season to taste, bake at 180C for about 30 mins

And because NO ONE on this list will have access to bunya nuts (which are a native pine nut which grows only in SE Queensland) if anyone is so inclined to try this you can substitute almond meal for the ground bunyas in the pastry, and ordinary pine nuts in the quiche.

Girl Fever

It's now official – "Girl Fever – 69 Stories of Sudden Sex for Lesbians" is revving up for take off. It's always exciting to hear you have a story in an anthology, but personally, I get more excited when I see the table of contents and see the company I'm in.

Crikey, I say (because I'm in Australia), look at those names between the covers. And how happy I am to be cuddled up next to Shanna for both my stories. Maybe some of her glam will rub off on me!

You can read more about "Girl Fever" over at editor Sacchi Green's blog. Check out her introduction here.

Here's the TOC for "Girl Fever"

Introduction Sacchi Green

Look At Me Now, Your Holiness! Cheyenne Blue

Answering the Call Shanna Germain

A Wet Pussy Rachel Kramer Bussel

An Hour Sommer Marsden

Good Morning Emily Moreton

She Writhes Beneath Me Roxy Jones

Oh Captain, My Captain Cha Cha White

At the Hip Anna Watson

Clean Sweep Fran Walker

Taste of My Woman Giselle Renarde

Off and On Allison Wonderland

Clothes Make the Woman D.L. King

Yab Yum Sacchi Green

Love Las Muertas Kirsty Logan

System Jeremy Edwards

Project Runway Sharon Wachsler

I Do Catherine Paulssen

Shane Jessica Lennox

Six Minutes or It's Free Tigress Healy

In Hot Water Elizabeth Coldwell

Love On A Real Train Michael M. Jones

Second Time Around Sara Lynde

Routine Jessica Lennox

Defenseless Nat Burns

Coasting Anya Levin

Front Door Sex Zoe Egan

Ignition Switch Delilah Devlin

Dressing Down Heather Towne

Signature Jean Roberta

The Airplane Story Victoria Janssen

Backstage Nerves Heather Day

In the Bush Debra Anderson

What Next? MJ Williamz

The Virtues of Being Forward Veronica Wilde

Pierced Maxine Marsh

Final Exam DD Symms

Stiff Peaks Rose William

Birthday Dance M. Marie

Desperate Measures Geneva King

An Explanation Sharon Wachsler

Floating in Space Dena Hankins

Freeway Falling Cal Gimpelevich

The Flight Home Nicole Wolfe

Patience Jennifer Baker

Train Whore Gemma Parkes

In the Closet Emily Moreton

Born to Ride Piper Trace

The Real Thing Anna Watson

Femme's the Breaks Allison Wonderland

In the Sculpture Garden Cha Cha White

When Life Is Interesting Leigh Wilder

Cowboy Dirty Roxy Jones

Saucy Cheeks Giselle Renarde

Last Minute Catherine Paulssen

Breathless Ariel Graham

Caramel Louise Blaydon

Cats and Dogs Fran Walker

Mina's Train Ride J. Caladine

Season Finale Lea Meadows

Auto Correct Evan Mora

Lure Nikki Magennis

Little Miss Goody Two Shoes Lucy Felthouse

Submission Letter Tara Young

Stacked Reina Sobin

Snowbound Sacchi Green

Written on Stone Toby Rider

Here and Back Again Shanna Germain

I Wish I Knew You Cheyenne Blue

Heat Lightning Sommer Marsden

With This Ring, I Thee Bed

With This Ring, I Thee Bed

Marriage ain't what it used to be. And thank zod for that!

Personally, I have never felt the need or the urge for marriage. Like oysters, it's something that other people enjoy. Marriage used to be cozy and vanilla and inextricably tied to the white picket fence and 2.2 snotty nosed children – and hey, I like my yards unfenced and children taste worse than oysters.

However, Alison Tyler's new anthology, "With This Ring, I Thee Bed" is everything I do like about modern marriage: unconventional marriages of all sorts. Gay marriage. Poly marriage. And above all, smokin' hot marriage.

So given my general unconcern about traditional marriage, it's strange that my contribution to "With This Ring, I Thee Bed" does include a highly traditional young, squeaky clean heterosexual couple tying the knot. But my story isn't really about them, it's about the bride's parents, Jonas and Penny, free-spirited hippies, living their own unconventional unmarried life and wondering in quiet bewilderment how they produced such a conventional daughter.

Even though Jonas and Penny never had a legal wedding, their love is enduring and true, solid as mahogany and yes, highly sexual.

I think that most people hope, when they marry, that their marriage will last, that they won't become another divorce statistic. That they'll be the snowy-haired couple rocking contentedly on the porch together. And that love and togetherness is something I do aspire to.

Here's an excerpt from my story, "Mother of the Bride".

As the younger people settled back in for another round of drinking and dancing, I slipped my hand into Jonas'. "Think we can leave now?"

He hummed in affirmation, and together we slipped out the door of the ballroom, down the long anonymous corridors of the hotel, up to our room on the third floor. The lights were off when we opened the door, but I'd left the drapes partially open. When I turned on the light, I saw the bouquet of flowers on the bed. Skye's bridal bouquet. I picked it up, and turned it over in my hands. The only tradition she'd omitted was throwing her bouquet. Now I knew why.

Her note was simple and to the point. "Because I love you, and because you loved me enough to give me the wedding I wanted, not the one you wanted for me."

Tears pricked at my eyes, and I handed the note to Jonas. "Obviously, we didn't hide our feelings too well."

"I doubt we could have kept them from her. She's very astute."

Carefully I set the bouquet on the bedside table and reached for my partner again.

His hands moved to the top button of my despised lilac and gray dress. Working swiftly, he slipped the buttons, pushing aside the cloth, moving it down my arms until I stood there in my simple cotton bra. Bending, he set his mouth to my nipple, warming it through the fabric. The dress pooled around my waist.

In a glissade of motion, we moved to the bed, dropping our clothes as we went. We'd moved like this a thousand times before. We knew each other so well. No need for a slow striptease that night, no need for the ritual undressing of each other. This time was all about us, and a celebration of our life together. And a celebration of Skye too; our daughter, made in love who today was leaving us for her own love and life.

We lay on the bed, facing each other. I stroked the long gray strands of his hair, reaching behind to release his ponytail, combing out his hair until it flowed free over his shoulders.

He growled at me, biting my nipple playfully. "I should let you be. Maybe I'll go and have a drink at the bar. A fine bourbon… some good company…"

"You wouldn't dare," I said, and wound my fingers tightly into his hair, tugging as he tongued my breast.

I treasured these moments, lying together in bed. Whether it was the afterglow, or a slow buildup to intimacy — the warmth and the loving were the same. Even when we didn't make love — when he couldn't or I wasn't interested — we still held each other, and stroked and played and cavorted like puppies, softly warm and playfully tender.

I haven't received my contributor's copies yet (a tiny woe of a peripatetic lifestyle) but I'm greatly looking forward to reading.

"With This Ring, I Thee Bed" edited by Alison Tyler and published by Spice is out now.