Stuart Aken's Blog, page 261

Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 25

If you haven’t been reading this, it might be worth looking at the reviews on the 'My Books' tab. They may persuade you to give it a try.
On the other hand, if you're continuing the journey, I assume you’re still enjoying this story.
I posted Chapter 1 way back on 13 January. Subsequent chapters have appeared each Friday, and will continue to be posted until all 50 have appeared here. You can find those already posted via the archive; just search for the chapter you want to read.
Missed the start? Find it here: http://stuartaken.blogspot.com/2012/01/read-free-my-novel-here.html
Read, enjoy, invite your friends to join us.
Chapter 25
Tuesday 18th May
‘Really gives you the willies, doesn’t he?’‘Doesn’t he bother you?’‘Merv’s just a sad perv who’s scared to death of women in the flesh. You told me, yourself, how he wanks over pictures of me and the others.’‘I don’t know what you mean.’She made a gesture I had seen all too often from Mervyn. ‘Tosses himself off, you told me.’I hadn’t realized what he was doing and discovered I was both disgusted and curious about his behaviour.‘If I stripped off and told him he could shag me, he’d wet himself. Terrified, he is.’I wasn’t so sure. I’d worked with him in the confines of the darkroom and he’d shown no fear of touching me but I couldn’t explain that to Netta. ‘I wish I could believe you. I never feel safe with him. And those horrible piggy eyes that undress you. He makes me feel dirty, defiled. I really wish Leigh could get shot of him. I’m always looking over my shoulder when he’s around. I can’t relax. And the way he looks at you, Netta… I’d be really scared if he looked at me like that.’‘How?’‘I can’t describe it. As if… it’s like hunger, but more than that. As if he wants to devour you.’‘Lots of men look at me like that.‘Not like Merv. There’s horror and danger lurking behind those eyes. He’s evil. I know he is.’She shrugged, but I’d made her think. My dislike of Mervyn had increased greatly during the past two weeks whist he’d been teaching me to print. I’d managed the photograph of myself, using the studio late on the night of Leigh’s party, when everyone else had gone to bed. I’d used a new film and exposed the whole roll, imagining Leigh behind the camera and desperately shoving the image of the leering Mervyn to the back of my mind. That pretence hadn’t prevented my stomach churning throughout. I felt ashamed and degraded even before I’d started the lessons.Mervyn had shown me how to load the film into the steel spiral, demonstrating with some old film first. He’d taught me how to develop the film and hang it to dry in the cabinet without getting dust on it. We’d spent many hours in the darkroom making prints from the negatives.He’d been beside himself with the pictures and ogled me even more when he knew what lay beneath my clothes. When he was showing me how to enlarge the image, and how to mask parts with my hands, he concentrated on certain parts of my body.I didn’t dwell on my feelings as I made prints of those negatives of my own explicitly naked body for Mervyn to leer at as he stood too close to me in the dark. But my ploy had worked. He was so keen to produce pictures of the best quality possible that he passed on as much knowledge of technique as he could. And I was so eager to learn as much from him in as short a time as possible that I soon understood enough of the rules to learn the rest on my own.The experience had cost me enormous amounts of nervous energy and after each session, I’d rushed to the shower. His hands had touched me, accidentally, he claimed, at least twice during each session and always on the sexual parts of my body. Just once, he’d pressed his erect penis against me, lifting my skirt and prodding at my bottom as I bent to examine the image in the masking frame under the enlarger. I’d managed not to strike him but my threats to tell Leigh stopped him going any further.Amazingly, he kept his word and said nothing to Leigh. My growing cynicism put his silence down to his fear that Leigh would curtail our sessions if he knew about them.My problem now was how to tell Mervyn I no longer needed him. I’d removed the incriminating negatives from the darkroom and made sure there were no prints of me lying about up there. I’d destroyed all the prints we’d made together during my training sessions. I didn’t want Mervyn passing pictures to his brothers and other people so they could snigger at me in the street.‘Leigh gone?’Netta’s question brought me back to the present. She had one of Leigh’s tee shirts on and was barely decent. Leaning against his desk, she was skimming the morning paper as if she had nothing better to do.‘Left an hour ago. He’s due back around three. If you’re bored, I’m sure I can…’‘No thanks. I’ll work on my suntan.’‘You’ll give Old Hodge a heart attack if you lie out there in that.’‘Don’t worry, sis. I’ll take it off as soon as I’m in the sunshine.’‘You’ll kill him.’‘He loves it. At least he doesn’t have to tax his imagination with me. You’re the one who gives him all the hard work. Still guessing about you, you know. Time you gave him the treat he deserves.’I hadn’t considered Old Hodge in those terms.Netta went, but toward the studio rather than the garden. I assumed she’d left something in there after her last session with Leigh.The morning was growing warmer, the sun brighter, as it had for the past few days. It was unseasonably warm. I opened the office door to let in some air as I started the last few letters.My work would soon be done. Then, I would take a book into the garden and sit on the shaded seat under the arbour; read as the scent of clematis and roses surrounded me and Old Hodge’s quiet work in the garden came to me on the soft breeze. It was an inviting picture and I hurried through the correspondence, eager to be in my sundress and outside.Then came the scream.At first, I was unable to accept I’d heard such a disturbing sound. But it came again, more urgently. From the studio. I ran into the large sunlit room and froze as I took in the scene.Netta was on the floor with her shirt up over her face. Mervyn was kneeling between her thighs, his trousers round his ankles and his penis erect. He had one hand over Netta’s face, the other between her legs. As I entered and called out, she began to lash out at him with her fists.‘Mervyn!’There was a heavy tripod folded against the wall and I hit him hard across the back with it. He fell on top of Netta and I hit him again, then pulled, pushed and kicked him away from her. He rolled onto his back, protesting loudly and with vile language, as I helped Netta to her feet. She stepped forward and kicked him hard between his legs. He yelled and buckled up. She grabbed his hair and punched his face very hard, several times, with her other hand.‘Bastard! Wait till I tell Leigh!’I had to drag her away from him, but he made no effort to follow us. He just sat on the floor, holding himself, shouting abuse and accusations and threats and looking confused and very angry.‘Little prick!’ Netta turned in the doorway and sneered at him. ‘As if I’d want that little worm inside me!’I would have needed a shower and then kept to my room. I would have taken ages to get over it. But Netta shrugged and asked for a coffee, since I’d offered.‘When Leigh gets back, you’ll have no more to fear from that pervert. I’ll make fucking sure of that.’She was sunbathing in the back garden, as if nothing had happened, when Leigh returned. I was reading, keeping an eye on her. As he strode across the lawn, I called him over to warn him what had happened before he did anything that might alarm her.‘You’re sure Netta wasn’t up to her usual tricks?’‘Leigh! Why can’t you see him for what he is? He was going to rape her! She was terrified. Her screams alerted me. If I hadn’t got there when I did, Heaven knows what might’ve happened. He was all ready to…’‘Okay, love.’ He gave me a hug of reassurance and went to Netta. As he knelt beside her, she rolled onto her back. He spoke and she sat up, clutching him close to her.I thought she must be crying then, explaining what had happened. But she looked at me over Leigh’s shoulder and made a thumbs-up sign. Leigh stood and said something, which made her get up and stand with her hands on her hips as if she was cross. He looked at her for a moment and then hugged her close. She crossed her fingers behind his back.Mervyn was back in the darkroom and Leigh went straight there. I could hear him from the garden. It wasn’t long before I heard them at the front of the house, voices raised but the words unintelligible. Netta slipped her feet into flip-flops and took my hand.When we reached the front of the house, Leigh was kicking Mervyn’s backside as he pushed him to his old car. ‘If I ever see your ugly arse near here again, I’ll rip your fucking balls off and ram them down your filthy throat!’Of course, Leigh had no idea we were there.Mervyn turned to say something as he started his car and he saw Netta and me watching. ‘That cunt said I could! And that other little twat’s ‘ad its knickers off for me every day for three weeks!’Leigh wrenched the car door open and hit Mervyn on his head. He tried to drag him out of the car but Mervyn drove off, churning the gravel with his spinning tyres. As soon as he’d driven through the gate, which Old Hodge had already opened, he stopped and raised his fist. ‘You fuckin’ cunts. I’ll fuck you both up your tight arses till you scream for mercy! Cunts!’Leigh dashed out of the gate but Mervyn set off quickly down to the end of the lane, still ranting and raving through the open car window. Leigh waited until he was out if sight before he turned.‘That’s the end of that prat, Fay. Remember, you owe me one.’I was going to ask her what she meant but Leigh came up to us and he was still very angry. I offered to make him a cup of tea.‘Scotch. A large one. I’m going to shower away the touch of that filthy pervert. Bring it up to me.’I’d never known him so terse. He gave me a brief questioning scrutiny before he shook his head to clear it of some impossible thought. He never even looked at Netta before spinning on his heel and going through the office door.‘I’d best take him his drink, Fay. He’ll need some special treatment to calm him down. And I don’t think you’re in my league.’I was happy to agree. He was frightening in that mood.‘What was all that about?’ Ma had seen Mervyn leaving as she stepped off the bus at the end of the lane. I explained what had happened.‘He actually attacked her?’‘She was on the floor and he had his fingers in her vagina.’She gave me a curious look. ‘Never thought he had it in him, nasty little pervert. Is Netta all right?’‘She seems fine. I’d’ve been hysterical.’‘Mmm. Look, I’m sorry, Faith; seems you were right all along. Leigh’ll be doubly angry. Not just the attack and the betrayal of his trust, but now he’s got no printer.’‘I’ve learnt a bit, but I’ve a long way to go before I’ll be as good as Mervyn…’‘Does Leigh know?’‘Know what?’‘You’ve been learning to print. He said nowt to me.’‘Mervyn was teaching me. I wanted to surprise Leigh…’‘You’ve been working in the darkroom with Merv? I thought you were terrified of the pervert?’‘I can’t let my fears stop me doing what I want to do. I hoped I might help Leigh if Mervyn was ever sick or there was too much work for him on his own.’‘You’re a dark horse. You amaze me, Faith. How did you get him to teach you and not take advantage?’I told her.‘You did all that for Leigh?’‘I love him.’‘I know, but, well, I’m flabbergasted, Faith. I’m not convinced he deserves you.’‘I still love him.’‘You might just’ve opened the door to getting him to notice you more. Give it a couple of days and then join him in the darkroom. Show him what you can do, mebbie even let him know how you learnt.’‘I couldn’t do that.’‘Perhaps not. Say you’re anxious to learn more, with him as your teacher. He’ll not be able to resist you. That’ll be one in the eye for that scheming little sister of yours. We’ll be hearing those wedding bells sooner than I thought.’‘You’re sure I should, Ma?’‘Absolutely.’I wasn’t as certain as Ma that it would lead to that conclusion but it seemed worth a try. That, I reminded myself, was the reason I’d taken the risk in the first place.

###
You've come halfway, so you’re obviously in for the long haul. However, in case you're impatient for the next chapter, you know where you can buy the book. If you do, please write a review and post it wherever you can - Amazon, Goodreads, Smashwords, or any other bookish site. Reviews get indie published books noticed, you see.
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Related articles Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 24 Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 23 Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 22 Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 21

Losing You, by Nicci French, Reviewed

In Losing You , Nicci French has woven a tale bursting with emotional impact. The book reads like a personal experience, such is the depth of detail and intensity of feeling in the writing. And, for the reader, this is not so much a read as a personal trip taken with the extraordinary mother on her search for her missing daughter. I will say no more about the plot, as I have no wish to inflict spoilers on potential readers.
In common with many of today’s writers, I have a day job. Because I share the family car with my daughter, I sometimes travel to work by bus. I’m willing to put up with the inconvenience because it’s better for the environment and it gives me time to read. I tell you this only because this particular book made me miss my stop; twice! I was so absorbed by the characters and the tale that I was past my normal disembarkation point before I realised it. It was one of those books that, had I had the practical opportunity, I would’ve read from cover to cover without pause. Unputdownable.
The narrator, Nina, is so well drawn that the first person account propels the reader through the roller-coaster emotional ride with consummate ease. Every other character, no matter how insignificant, is drawn with care and attention, so that each is a believable person; rounded and complete. The story builds slowly at first, with subtle hints pointing at a potential disaster on the far horizon. But, as the various elements of the drama are revealed, the tension builds and builds, making the pages turn with increasing speed as the reader lives through the growing terror with Nina: a woman who sees herself as ordinary but who demonstrates that we all, in the necessary circumstances, have the potential to be extraordinary.
All the barriers placed before the lead character are utterly credible and Nina’s response to them illustrates our mix of frustration with authority and our incomprehension of the need for seemingly pointless protocols when these prevent us acting in ways that seem obvious to us. The urgency of the need for action instead of talk slowly increases as time passes and all the possible outcomes flood Nina’s mind with their horror and dread.
I think you’ll glean from the above that I thoroughly enjoyed this book. It carried me with it on the breathless ride, involving me emotionally in every step and misstep along the road to the tortuous conclusion. The denouement is brilliantly written and constructed with such detail that the reader feels the author must have suffered something similar to bring such feelings and actions to the page.
I’ve read only one other novel by Nicci French but I shall be reading more. Just as soon as I’ve completed my self-imposed trawl through the 180 odd titles still on my ‘to read’ list. I have no hesitation in recommending this piece of superb writing to all and sundry.
Related articles 'Complicit' by Nicci French

Savings of 50% Through Smashwords Sale

Along with other authors, I've joined Smashwords' Summer Sale. This means you can buy two of my books for half their usual price. Breaking Faith, my romantic thriller (see My Books tab for reviews) is now avail;able for $1.50, £0.95, or Euro 1.18. Similarly, my anthology of 8 hot erotic stories, Sensuous Touches, has also been reduced to $1.50, £0.95, or Euro 1.18. You will need to use the links shown and enter the promotional code of SSW50 to obtain your discount. And please take advantage sooner rather than later. This is a limited time offer.




My other books, Ten Tales for Tomorrow, The Methuselah Strain and Ten Love Tales are already priced only at $0.99, £0.63 or Euro 0.78, so they can't be included in this special offer.


And, of course, But Baby it's Cold Outside, the seasonal short story, is already free anyway.




If you have a look at the tab above, labelled 'My Books', you can get a 
flavour of all the books before you plunge in and spend these huge sums; this way, the risk will be singularly reduced. 


These are all ebooks, of course. Though Breaking Faith can also be read as a paperback edition, available through Amazon and other retail outlets. Because of the publishing arrangements, I'm unable to alter the price on the paperback, but it represents very good value at $14.95 or £7.99 for 340 pages of tense, exciting and emotionally packed romance.


The ebooks can be downloaded to be read on any ereader platform through Smashwords. If you don't have an ereader, you can read them as PDFs using the link for the free Adobe software to the right or using any one of the many free ereader software packages available online.


Related articles Article - Summer/Winter Sale At Smashwords

Bad Luck and Trouble, by Lee Child, Reviewed.

Bad Luck and Trouble is one of a series of thrillers starring the heroic loner, Reacher. I have never read anything by Lee Child before and only came across this as it was part of a compilation of 4 novels in a free book I received via a book club as part of the introductory offer. Sometimes, such gifts prove more serendipitous than expected. This was one such occasion.
I thoroughly enjoyed the story and found it difficult to put down. I’ve never lived in the USA, have no experience of the US military, don’t gamble in casinos, and I live a happily married life with a wonderful wife and daughter. So, on the face of it, I have no points of contact with the protagonist. But Child has a way of making his hero into a well-rounded human, almost in spite of his rough tough exterior. This isn’t the formulaic easiness of the soft-centred giant. Reacher is considerably more complex. He’s a man with principles and, although he can act with necessary brutality and kill in ways that seem almost casual, beneath this toughness lies a moral mind and heart that takes a no-nonsense approach to the realities of life. He is an honest hero, honest even with himself most of the time, an unusual human trait.
I won’t attempt to give a synopsis of the novel, though the plot could be outlined in a page. The whole point of a thriller is the way the plot takes the reader through the various barriers to success, or failure, and pits the hero against odds most would find impossible. It’s a piece of fun escapism. But, in common with many of the better written thrillers, this one has an underlying theme of morality, a concern with right and wrong. Child avoids those excesses so prevalent in the genre; the easy solutions to complex problems, the ready subjugation of moral considerations in the name of expediency or plot development. He eschews such lazy routes to denouement and instead employs real dilemmas and proper human concerns in resolving the issues raised by the story.
His characters, the protagonists, are well drawn and we know enough about them to understand their motives and actions. The villains could be seen as a little stereotypical, a little lacking in depth of development. But, hell, we’re reading this to root for the good guys, aren’t we? So bad villains are acceptable. I don’t read thrillers for detailed explanation of character; like most readers, I pick up a thriller to be entertained, to be taken on a wild ride of escapism. And Child delivers.
Would I recommend the book? Without doubt. And I’ll be reading more of this author’s work, once I’ve read the 180 titles in my ‘to read’ list!
Related articles The Affair, by Lee Child Bad Luck and Trouble Review Lee Child leads library hit-list FIRST LOOK: Tom Cruise makes a stand in crime thriller 'Jack Reacher'

The Artist’s Way, by Julia Cameron, Reviewed

Subtitled A Course in Discovering and Recovering Your Creative Self and A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity, this is not merely a book, but an instruction manual about how to become the artist you truly are.
Okay, so I may already have alienated the pragmatists and those for whom the idea of artistic creativity is anathema. But stay with me. You, too, will benefit.
The book is the culmination of a number of years of work Julia has undertaken first to release her own creativity and then that of friends, and, ultimately, paying students. She is, of course, a well-known film director, amongst other talents. She lives in a world populated by people who use their creative talent to earn their living and to produce many of those things we take for granted in our daily lives. Creativity is not the sole preserve of the isolated artist living in a dream, after all. It is an element in the everyday experience of most of us, if we’re willing to discover it. So, there’s something here for everyone. And I do mean everyone, regardless of the type of life and the nature of the work undertaken.
The book guides the reader through a series of exercises and explorations of self over a period that is suggested to be 12 weeks. I took a little longer, as I had 2 weeks of holiday already planned and those weeks interrupted the flow. The exercises, or tasks as she calls them, are essential to the course.
Before you make a decision to experience this book - it is more an experience than a reading exercise - I should warn you that you’ll need to approach it with commitment. A partial, casual approach will not work. You must be willing to immerse yourself in all that it entails, if you’re to gain from it the lasting and increasing benefits it promises.
As you proceed, you’ll find all sorts of excuses not to do certain things, all manner of reasons why you, in particular, shouldn’t bother with some aspects. You’re too experienced, you’re too creative already, you’re simply too busy, you’re above such considerations, you don’t have that sort of problem, etc, etc. But allowing yourself to fail, permitting yourself to face those fears you have buried, will, if my experience is any guide, free you from self-destructive influences you’re unaware you have acquired.
I learned a good deal about myself during the course of the weeks. Not all of it was good. But most of what I learned was positive in its influence on my development. There were painful recollections, shameful admissions, abortive attempts at justification and some unexpected unpleasant revelations. But these are all part of the healing process that permits the inner artist to develop and flourish in the materialistic age we live in. To compensate for the unpleasant, there were many unexpected plusses along the way. I discovered really good things about myself, came to understand why I have held certain beliefs, why I have been unable to take full advantage of my gifts and talents, why I have rejected certain helping hands, why I have wasted so much time and effort; even, perhaps, why I became ill for so many years.
Sound a little over the top?
That’s what I thought when I started. But I grow daily more certain about what I’ve learned during these few, important, weeks of my life. I’ve discovered that I have true gifts, real talents, a fantastic imagination, a unique way of seeing and being. Sometimes the journey has been frightening, sometimes it’s been tedious, but often it’s been exhilarating, exciting, vital, and full of fun.
I never considered myself a ‘blocked’ artist. I seemed to be moving along with my creative life quite nicely, thank you. But the honesty this course forces upon its students woke me to the real reality (yes, I know, a tautology, but a deliberate one). We spend so much of our lives under the cloud of self-deception that escape is not only considered difficult, for many it is never considered at all, since these individuals have no consciousness of their self-imposed imprisonment.
I think it is clear that I would recommend this book to everybody.
There is a ‘but’; there is always a ‘but’.
One aspect of the narrative and underlying philosophy of the book threatened, from the start, to undermine the effectiveness of the course for me. I am a committed and self-defined, one might almost say passionate, agnostic. I’ll explain what I mean by that, since it’s important to your understanding of my position and argument. I believe that if there is a God, such a force, being, presence - call it what you will - is so far above our understanding as to be incomprehensible. I believe any attempt to define a God must, by definition, be an insult to such a concept and result in a counterfeit rather than the real thing. Since I understand the concept to be ineffable, I am left with the only logical alternative; i.e. I remain open to the possibility of a God but can make no description of such a power and, by logical extension, cannot accept any of the orthodox deities currently worshipped by the many religions that exist. These are, patently, constructs of man in a quest to answer the unanswerable questions and, no doubt, serve a useful, if often divisive, purpose in providing a sort of comfort for those who prefer not to think about such issues for themselves.
So, when Julia Cameron talks about accepting that there is an external creative being, that she calls God (using the ‘Good Orderly Direction’ tag to reduce the objections of the sceptics) I find myself resistant. Initially, this very insertion of the idea of faith into the course formed a barrier for me. But I persevered, putting that aspect on the back burner until I could examine it and find a replacement philosophy. And I’m glad I did that. Persevered, that is. Had I allowed my objection to stop me completing the course, I would have missed out on a very positive experience and failed to arrive at the new place I now find myself, creatively speaking.
As to what alternative philosophy I discovered along the way to replace the God aspect: this isn’t the place to detail it. Suffice to say that I found such a concept and am happy to employ that in place of the God facet.
So, again, would I recommend this book? Only to everybody on the planet. Go out and buy, borrow, or beg the volume. Make a commitment to do the tasks and exercises. Make a commitment to complete the course, however long it takes. If you follow it with the required open mind and the necessary effort you will come out on the other side a more creative, balanced and happier person. 
Related articles An Insiders Peek into the Artist's Creative Process 24 Creativity Quotes to Bring Out Your Inner Artist Creativity a Way of Life Life Is the Creative Act

Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 24

Not been reading this? Have a glance at the reviews on the 'My Books' tab. They may persuade you to give it a try.
On the other hand, if you're still with me, I assume you’re still enjoying this story.
I posted Chapter 1 way back on 13 January. Subsequent chapters have appeared each Friday, and will continue to be posted until all 50 have appeared here. You can find those already posted via the archive; just search for the chapter you want to read.
Missed the start? Find it here: http://stuartaken.blogspot.com/2012/01/read-free-my-novel-here.html
Read, enjoy, invite your friends to join us.
Chapter 24
Saturday 8th May
What a party!Ma outdid herself in the food department. Old Hodge set up lights and organized the cars on the gravel forecourt. And some of the girls arrived early to surprise me with an unexpected present.Faith led me blindfold into the studio and left me wondering; anticipating some wicked trick but totally unprepared for what they had planned. Female hands slowly caressed me and removed my clothes. I played along and let them strip me.Last to come off was my blindfold, to reveal nine naked women circling me with promise in their eyes. Amongst them Netta, Abby and Zizi. Standing by the wall, watching side by side, were Matilda and Faith. Their expressions couldn’t have been more different. Matilda looked on enviously, wanting to join in. Faith was shocked, perhaps even hurt. I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile and Matilda whispered to her. She left quickly. At my invitation, Matilda shed her clothes and joined the gang.They posed and played for me, each insisting on a separate photograph with me. All deliciously rude and saucy in their groups and pairs and trios. I had a brilliant idea for a satire on nudity; a pair of pictures I might publish. As soon as I’d outlined it, the girls agreed wholeheartedly.I dressed and we arranged the shot with the women, still nude, surrounding me and pretending to hide me from their gaze, their hands feigning censorship of their eyes. As a pair to this picture, I stripped again and the women dressed and took up the same positions around me but with their eyes uncovered and their body language expressing lust. Brilliant satire on society’s dual standards regarding nudity.Eventually, we made our way into the house. Faith was in the sitting room, playing hostess to the admiring men friends of the girls but utterly blind to her effect on them. The women joined their current partners and I crossed to Faith to hug her for her loyalty and patience. ‘Thanks for being hostess for me.’ I lowered my voice to a whisper. ‘I’d no idea they were going to do that, and I know you were innocent. Sorry it distressed you.’She looked as if something unbelievable had occurred and she was trying to find an explanation. I kissed her and fell to serving drinks and organising music and food for everyone.Ma’s buffet was superb. Faith astounded and delighted me with a present of a new record deck, amp and speakers and we played Abba, Santana, The Beatles, Donna Summer and all the favourites that were easy to dance to. Again, her resourcefulness impressed me as I compared her generous and appropriate gift with the inevitable bottles of Glenmorangie, Old Spice, Hai Karate, ties and socks.Faith watched the cavorting dancers with bewilderment and fascination. Netta let me share my time with all the other women who wanted to dance, talk and smooch with me.I forced Faith onto the dance floor at one point, only to regret embarrassing her, as she became the centre of attention. Her movements were naturally graceful and she had the good sense to dance minimally. But she couldn’t leave the arena quickly enough. Her simple lilac cotton dress, shorter than usual, emphasized her femininity without advertising her sex. She managed to look demure and attractive at the same time, in contrast to Netta’s blatant display of skin beneath a sheath of purple tie-dyed muslin.Zizi, Charlotte, Abby and her jazz freak pothead escaped into the garden a few times to indulge in both types of weed, poor fools. Netta and Matilda’s double-act lured a couple of the men away from the party, as the evening became late night. They were absent for long enough to cause dismay to the women who’d arrived with them.Well past midnight, Netta threw open the French windows and stuck her new forty-five on the turntable. Everyone watched her saunter to the place on the lawn where Old Hodge’s lights would best illuminate her. There, she peeled off her flimsy covering and danced to the Time Warp. I’d taken her to see The Rocky Horror Picture Show only a couple of weeks previously. Her pelvic thrusts were spectacular. Before long, most of the partygoers had joined her, in varying degrees of undress, and she played the track six times in a row. I, however, was absorbed in Zizi, who’d washed the ash from her mouth with some of my best malt and was giving me a guided tour of her lips and tongue in preparation for a bit of al fresco in the shadows.Later, when those who weren’t staying the night had departed, we all sat around listening to soft, low music, drinking wine, coffee and liqueurs and lazily chatting. Matilda and Netta had procured other partners for the night and Netta had taken hers to bed. Charlotte and Lucy had gone home alone by taxi, in tears. Inevitably, we discussed politics, religion, sex, the cold war and the bomb, setting everything to rights in that post party fashion that is so strangely satisfying.Faith, her social antennae still incompletely tuned, chose the occasion to ask Matilda a personal question.‘Tell me more about my father, Mum.’Alcohol had loosened Matilda’s tongue; otherwise, she would have been more circumspect. She spoke to Faith as though they were alone and I tried to leave them to it, but Zizi wanted to hear.‘David was a gentleman, a lecturer in my first year at uni; taught English literature. God, he’ll be coming up to sixty now, lovely man. His eyes were the colour of an English sky on a cloudless November day and his eyebrows met across the bridge of his nose so that he looked perpetually angry, which was funny because he was never, ever cross. He seduced me, saucy old bugger. He told me, as he undressed me the first time, he’d fallen in love with me as soon as I walked into the lecture hall. I believed him and he never gave me cause to doubt him. I loved David. Still do, wherever he is. He went to America, but you know that.‘I’m sure you were conceived on our very last day. We went to a bonfire party together… God, it’s hard to believe I only knew him for a few short weeks. He went out to replace another lecturer who’d fallen sick and it all happened really quickly. When we made love that night, I saw real fireworks amongst the imaginary ones he always fired for me. It must’ve been freezing under that cloudless sky but we didn’t notice.‘I think he might’ve become a great writer, given the chance. Brilliant mind, wonderful hands. Never known a man like him.’Anxiety clouded the face of her chosen partner for the night. ‘Don’t worry, love, I’m not into comparisons. You’ll do fine for tonight.’ She stood up and offered her hand. He took it cautiously. ‘Come on; let’s see what we can do for each other.’It was a timely departure and one that seemed to signal the end of the party. Faith caught my eye and I knew she’d do the honours around the house and gardens. I noticed again, how lovely she was in her lilac cotton; how it hugged her curves.Zizi took my hand and whispered in my ear. ‘Tonight, Leighton Longshaw, you’re mine. You can play with that little angel any time. She’s willing enough, even if she doesn’t know it. But not tonight. Come and show me again that you haven’t lost your touch.’It was an odd way to refer to my resident virgin, bastion of chastity. I put it down to her ignorance of Faith’s real personality and shrugged it off as I took Zizi upstairs to demonstrate how much I adored her body.

###
You've come all this way, so you’re clearly in for the long haul. However, in case you're impatient for the next chapter, you know where you can buy the book. If you do, please write a review and post it wherever you can - Amazon, Goodreads, Smashwords, or any other bookish site. Reviews are what get indie published books noticed, you see.
Tweet with me on Twitter: http://twitter.com/@stuartaken
Like my author page on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/StuartAkenMy website has links to 100s of other sites of interest: http://stuartaken.co.ukRead on Goodreads:  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4234877.Stuart_AkenStumble with me: http://www.stumbleupon.com/stumbler/stuartakenCome Digg with me: http://digg.com/stuartakenPin with me here: http://pinterest.com/stuartaken/Buy my ebooks via Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/stuartakenUSA readers, see my author page on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/author/stuartaken(for some odd reason, this type of link isn't yet available on Amazon for UK)         
Related articles Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 23 Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 22 Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 21 Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 20

Could You Use Some Free Graphics?

I received this email today and thought I'd place it here for those who might be interested in trying the free
trial offered. I haven't tried it myself, though I have had a gander at their website, which looks very interesting. At present, I have no need for such a service. But, if you're interested or curious, here's the email, along with the link:

 I wanted to reach out to you because of the influence you have via your writings, with an offer I think you might be interested in using or sharing on your blog.  The graphic design firm RipeConcepts is offering two hours of free graphic design work as a way to meet new potential clients.

Two hours is enough for them to design a new logo for a blog, put together a banner, template for a newsletter, create a customized business card, etc. There is no obligation to use them again, and they won't exceed the 2 hour time limit so you won't get hit with having to pay at the end.

Here is the link to reserve your spot - www.graphicdesignoffer.com - you can send your readers to this page as well and they can reserve theirs. There are a limited number of supplies each month, so you may want to sign up quickly if you are interested.

Thanks so much, I hope you and your readers will find this useful!
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20 Things I’ve Sort of Learned So Far.

Paradoxically, it seems likely that fear of success is what most holds me back. The questions is, ‘Why?’I can write fluently, without preparation or planning, more or less at will. And I know how much that will piss off some of you, sorry!I can find ten reasons not to write, even though I enjoy writing and know that’s what I should be doing at the time. Perverse nature, idiocy, or something deeper, like laziness?Writer’s block is a problem for others. I have my own hurdles to jump. Generally, I build them as I go through life.Creating is the most enjoyable part of the process of writing. So why do I spend so much time and effort avoiding it?Editing is also enjoyable. I wonder why I put it off.Pinterest is a fascinating waste of time. Popular, relatively pointless and addictive.I can spend an hour or two lost in the inconsequential chatter of Twitter and Facebook. It’s called networking, but it’s really nothing much more than placing my opinions out there to cause discussion and debate.Learning to touch type would make me more efficient. But I need to be free from the day job to do that with any real chance of success. Roll on retirement from the wage slaveemployment.Reading my work out loud allows its imperfections to scream at me. So, I actually try to do this with everything, though I don’t always succeed, of course.Reading and editing from the printed page reveals all those typos and repetitions I miss when scanning the screen. So, I try to make sure I print off everything before it goes out, except, of course, these blog posts!As I approach the point where I should submit a piece, I discover innumerable reasons to put it off. Is it doubt, lack of confidence or that old problem from the top of this list, d’you reckon?It’s better to clip those gems of genius and place them in a file for future use than to discard them with the delete key. I’m all for re-cycling.There are a hundred distractions for every determined effort to impose discipline on my work process and I can indulge in each of them in spite of the guilt they all bring. Guilt; the precious gift of the Abrahamic religions. Why couldn’t the God Squad deliver something more useful, I wonder.If I don’t write down that brilliant idea at once, I will, always, always, always, forget it before I reach my study. Always.Of the brilliant notes I record in any of my 3 notebooks, almost all will result in a useful idea to develop, which makes it surprising that I often resist the recording. Stubborn? Me?If I fail to produce a visual reminder of my intended actions, I’ll forget what I intended just that morning and find myself doing something else instead. Usually something fairly unproductive, at that.Sometimes it’s fine to indulge in trivia, daydreams and idleness. Which, given my propensity to do just that, is a pretty good thing.Music helps isolate me from the intrusive sounds of everyday life. I play all my favourite tracks, both classical and pop, and never actually hear them if I’m lost in the creative process.Without reviews, an indie author might as well accept that he’ll sell very few books, regardless of the quality. But obtaining reviews is almost as hard as getting the work out there in the first place.This, by the way, was a useful exercise, in that it concentrated my mind on certain aspects of my behaviour, which I can now attempt to alter. Might be worth your while engaging in a similar list if you see yourself in any of these lessons.Comments readily received in the appropriate space below. Thank you.
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As You Like It, By William Shakespeare, Reviewed.

The cheek of it! Reviewing anything by the Bard? Are you mad? Well, I can have an opinion, and here it is.
Almost everything that can be said about this play has already been said. I have never seen it performed but the text is as a good a read as any of the Bard’s work. It is, of course, a comedy, though it illustrates quite well how different the concept of comedy has become as the ages pass. In Shakespeare’s day, of course, it merely meant a piece of drama with a happy ending. And, for most of the characters in this work, the ending is happy. The reader, or playgoer, is required to suspend disbelief in a fairly extreme way for a couple of incidents. The conversions of Oliver and Frederick take some believing, considering the depths of their hatreds, but it’s all taken in good spirit. And, though the poet has messages to purvey, he has made this an entertainment before it is anything else.
There is great play made of the gender bending and, of course, since men played all the parts, the double entendres are many. A large number of songs appear in this play, more than I’ve come across previously and they sometimes appear to be no more than padding. What? Accusing the Bard of padding? Well, that’s the way they seemed to me. As did one or two of the smaller scenes, which appeared to have no bearing on the plot at all.
But I’m not complaining, merely pointing out those features that struck me whilst reading. I enjoyed the language (who can fail to do so?) of course. The characters were diverse and entertaining, even if a little thinly drawn on occasion.
Would I now go to see a performance? You bet.
And will I read more Shakespeare? Try to stop me. 
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Read My Novel, Free: Chapter 23

Not reading this? Take a look at the reviews on the 'My Books' tab. They may lead you to give it a try.
On the other hand, if you've been with me this far, are you still enjoying this story? I certainly hope so.
I posted Chapter 1 way back on 13 January. Subsequent chapters have appeared each Friday, and will continue to be posted until all 50 have appeared here. You can find those already posted via the archive; just search for the chapter you want to read.
Missed the start? Find it here: http://stuartaken.blogspot.com/2012/01/read-free-my-novel-here.html
Read, enjoy, invite your friends to join us.
Chapter 23
Friday 7th May
Zoë arrived late on Friday night. A tall, willowy, woman with startling aquamarine eyes that sparkled. She smiled easily and had long shiny hair the colour of coal. I liked her on sight. Netta didn’t. Leigh greeted her with a kiss full on her mouth and a great hug which he held for a long time. Netta folded her arms across her chest and tapped her bare foot.I took Zoë’s case. ‘Where shall I put this, Leigh?’Netta and Zoë both looked at him.‘Zizi’s only here for a couple of nights, Netta…’I thought Netta would make a fuss, but she shrugged and pretended she didn’t care. ‘Fine. We’ll split it, then. Do you want him tonight or tomorrow?’Zoë laughed out loud and I had to join her, it was so infectious. Netta looked uncomfortable and Leigh smiled knowingly.‘Perhaps you’d rather we shared him both nights?’Leigh’s face was a picture; he wanted none of that. Even I could tell she was joking but Netta seemed to think she was serious.‘Fine by me. Just because we live in the sticks, we’re not savages, you know. We can be every bit as sophisticated as you southerners.’‘My dear, you’re clearly far more sophisticated than I. Tell you what; I’m positively pooped after slogging up that dreadful motorway. You look after the poor man’s needs for tonight. I’ll keep him warm tomorrow. How’s that?’‘Suits me.’Leigh grinned. ‘The bedroom opposite yours, in that case.’‘What, this case in that case?’‘No, that case in this case.’‘Right. In that case, I’ll take this case up.’‘In that case, thank you.’Zoë laughed. ‘You two should be a double act.’Leigh looked at me. ‘Maybe we should’Netta butted in. ‘Mum’s in that room tomorrow night’‘No problem. Ma can change the sheets in the morning. You can cosy up with Matilda or use the far end room tomorrow night. I think I’m going to enjoy this birthday.’When I returned, they were in the sitting room, drinking wine, and I noticed Zoë’s outfit for the first time as she stood to thank me. She wore a sheer, batwing, paisley print cotton blouse, in colours that echoed her eyes, tied under breasts I would have liked to sport. The fabric lay soft and close to her skin and the low cut neckline exposed her deep cleavage. Round her long, slender neck was a black velvet choker bearing a single emerald. Her black trousers were low on her hips so her navel was exposed and they hugged her legs until they flared at the embroidered bottoms. Black, strappy sandals with low heels exposed feet that had worn badly fitting shoes for too long. The nails on her fingers and toes were painted bright aquamarine to match her eyes and eye shadow.‘That was kind of you, Faith, thank you. Leigh’s told me a lot about you and I’ve been looking forward to our meeting. He’s warned me you’re dangerously honest. Tell me, how do I look?’ There was a gleam in her eyes and humour around her mouth that spoke of mockery. But it was herself she was mocking.‘I think Leigh must be mad not to have asked you to marry him years ago. But I’m glad he didn’t. You’re beautiful, Zoë. To look at, that is. Of course, I don’t know enough about you as a person to determine your character yet, but I think you’re probably rather nice and I think and hope we’ll get along well.’‘What a delight! It’ll be Ma who suggested marriage, of course. Leigh’s my first love but he’d never get me to leave London and live in this godforsaken place. And I’m such a slave to the weed, he’d never be able to put up with me. He describes me as a beautiful ashtray, you know.’That was when I finally realized that Leigh didn’t smoke and that none of his lovers and friends smoked in his company. Zoë’s admission made me aware of how strongly he must feel about it and I wondered why.Netta had seated herself at Leigh’s feet, staking her claim, as Ma would say. She’d caught his hand and pulled it over her shoulder so that it rested on the top of her breast under a shirt unbuttoned to expose most of her upper half. I could see his fingers gently stroking her and I wondered what it would feel like. The thought had me blushing. What was it about Leigh that made him such a magnet for women?‘Why is it, Zoë, that Leigh’s so attractive to us all?’He gave me a strange look, as if he hadn’t thought I found him attractive, as if my question surprised him.‘She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?’ Zoë sat on the vacant sofa and patted the space beside her. I joined her as Leigh struggled to get up and pass me the glass of wine he’d poured whilst I was upstairs.Zoë touched his hand as I took the glass from him and a look passed between them that Netta couldn’t see and that had me wondering what was so powerful that it could keep them apart. The touch lasted only seconds and he returned to his seat, where Netta again took the hand and placed it on her breast. He glanced at her and gently stroked her skin again as she turned away to stare at Zoë with triumph. Leigh, however, also returned his gaze to Zoë.Zoë never took her eyes off him as she answered my question. ‘Leigh’s one of those men, though I’m not convinced he should hear this, who holds a mysterious charm for women. Tall, dark and devastatingly handsome he is of course, like the heroes of so many cheap romances. But it’s not just his looks, or those amazing eyes that make you feel like a million dollars every time they include you in his glance; it’s a knack he has of making you feel you’re the only person alive when he’s with you.‘Even now, with the three of us for company, we’ll each feel we’re the only one around when he speaks to us. I don’t know how he does it, but he’s always been that way. Of course, the fact that he’s an incredible lover and as horny as a rutting stag, doesn’t do him any harm either. But you never feel used by him. He has this way of making every woman feel special. We all love him and he loves all of us. Isn’t that right, Leigh?’‘Well, he’s loving me tonight. He’s only got one and it’s mine tonight!’‘My dear, I thought you were all for sharing him? Though I have to say, I’ve never been able to see what’s in it for the other woman with three in a bed.’‘He’s got hands and a tongue, hasn’t he?’‘I see. You’re obviously way too sophisticated for me, my dear. I have this old fashioned notion about keeping a man to myself in bed. Terribly primitive and square, I suppose, but that’s me.’‘And me.’ Leigh gently took his hand from Netta’s skin and rose to his feet. ‘Come on, wanton angel, let’s get to bed so that Zizi can rest after her long journey.’Netta was on her feet at once.‘You go up and enjoy the bathroom together. Save water; bath with a friend. Faith and I can have a little chat until you’re in the love nest.’Netta needed no further encouragement and dragged Leigh from the room.Zoë was laughing quietly as they left. She refilled our glasses from the bottle. ‘Now then, Faith, mind if I have a ciggie?’‘I don’t, but Leigh will.’‘Oh, how splendidly loyal of you. Will you join me in the back garden, then, so I can have my fix?’We took our wine out to the bench against the back wall of the house, the lights from the kitchen and utility room patching the grass with golden oblongs. Zoë lit up as soon as we closed the door behind us.‘Don’t ever start with this foul master, especially if you’ve any designs on Leigh, Faith. It stopped him marrying me, and I very much want to be married to him, I can tell you. But it’s a pernicious weed and a jealous master.’‘If you love him so much, why don’t you just give up smoking?’‘You really are an innocent, aren’t you, sweetie, encouraging a rival to do something that will help her steal the man you love? You’re too kind for your own good. I love Leigh. I always have and I always will. I’ll go to my early grave, hacking black death from my diseased lungs, loving him. But I can’t give it up. This weed’s a clever killer, Faith. Ensnares you through advertising, rebellion, fashion, peer pressure or simple stupidity. Once hooked, unless you’re very lucky, you’re on it for life. No, I can’t give it up, believe me, I’ve tried. Its hold is too strong.’‘How can they let it be sold if it’s that bad?’‘Ah. Vested interest. Jobs, revenue, indifference, ignorance, but mostly because the governments of the world make huge sums in taxes from the legal killers who manufacture this poison. It’ll never change as long as the politicians are in the pockets of the paymasters.’‘Are you ill now?’‘Only in my mind. The real sickness will come later. But enough of that. Leigh won’t marry me; he thinks of me as an ashtray and he hates smoking for reasons he’ll tell you in his own good time. But he may well marry you, my dear.‘Don’t let that promiscuous, sexually athletic sister of yours put you off. Leigh loves his sex and his beautiful women, but he’s never shown the slightest signs of settling down with anyone. Never, that is, until you came along. The way he talks about you makes it obvious to any woman. That’s why your selfish little sister is so damned terrified of you. It’ll take time, Faith, but he’ll discover the real you and fall in love and be faithful to you for the rest of your lives together. I’ll come to your wedding and weep for what I’ve lost, but I’ll be glad for Leigh and for you.’‘You seem very certain. How can you be so calm about me marrying the man you love? I don’t understand.’‘I think you do. I’m certain because I know Leigh better than he knows himself and he’s undeniably falling in love with you. I am, as you put it, calm about the prospect because I love him. This’ll sound terribly corny and cringe-making, but it’s true for all that; love is selfless, it’s sex that’s selfish. If I can’t have Leigh, and I can’t, I want to know that he’s with a woman he loves and who loves him in return. That woman is you, Faith, for all your innocence and naivety. Perhaps even because of those qualities.’‘You’re very honest.’‘Not as honest as you, sweetie. I’ve nothing to lose now. Borrowed time. The only thing in life I truly value will never be entirely mine, so I have little to fear but the painful end. When they tell me the rot’s set in, I just hope I have the guts to end it myself. The thought of slow disintegration fills me with unspeakable horror. Please promise me you’ll never succumb to this curse, never even try it.’It mattered to her. I could hear and feel the pain that lay behind her bravado. She was so sad and helpless and I understood it wasn’t her fault. She knew she was addicted, knew she was powerless to change, knew her habit would eventually kill her. I vowed I’d never fall into its clutches. ‘I promise. I give you my word of honour.’I watched as she took another cigarette from the silver case in her handbag and lit it from the glowing stub of the first. She blew out a great blue cloud of smoke and it seemed to relax her but there were tears in the corners of her beautiful eyes as she looked at me. ‘Good. Break that promise, sweetie, and I swear I’ll come back to haunt you!’‘I won’t.’‘Want a drag?’I pulled away from the offered death stick and shook my head, vigorously. ‘Why would anyone offer poison to a friend? I don’t understand.’‘Ah. That was a test. But you’re quite right. I started because friends persuaded me. Some friends, eh? What would you think of someone who begged you, with much underhand persuasion, to walk blindfold across a busy motorway? This is every bit as lethal. Odd sort of friendship, isn’t it?’I nodded. ‘How can you stand the thought of Leigh in bed with Netta?’ It was out of my mouth before my mind had grasped the consequences. ‘I’m sorry!’She just turned and looked at me, the curl of smoke escaping her mouth as she parted her lips and then briefly smiled and nodded. ‘You’ll feel it more keenly than me, of course. It’s fresh for you, this love. You don’t yet know what you’re missing. You haven’t experienced the magic of Leigh’s physical love. He’s a man made for loving women. I wasn’t his first but I lasted the longest. Whilst he was living with me and we were both studying, he was pleasuring other girls. In a sense, and this is wonderfully ironic, it was the pressure of his infidelity that drove me to the weed. Cruel; that the one thing that ensured I’d never have him exclusively was something his behaviour pushed me into. I ought to hate him, you know. But, idiot that I am, I can’t.‘I’ve known Leigh a long time. He’s an unusual sort of philanderer in that he really does love his women. He lives to give us pleasure, to enjoy us and celebrate us and please as many of us as he possibly can. There’s none of the usual insecurity of the run-of-the-mill gigolo in Leigh. He isn’t doing the rounds to prove his manhood or because he’s scared that commitment will somehow stunt and imprison him. He moves amongst us and shares what he has to give as generously and evenly as possible. It’s like a mission with him; he’s a missionary spreading the good news of fucking by demonstration.‘Whether I wish he was with me instead of Netta is immaterial. He is with Netta now. Tomorrow he’ll be with me and I’ll adore my time with him, treasure every moment, every touch, every loving look. We’ll fuck through the night and into the morning and still I’ll want more of him and he’ll want more of me. But when I’ve gone, he’ll be giving his all to Netta, or Abby or Sue or Helen or any of the many of his previous lovers who’ll come to his party. And those who are chosen will give and those who are not will sigh their regrets but they won’t blame Leigh. He can only be with one of us at a time and we all know that most times it’s just not our turn, that’s all.’I found it impossible to reconcile what I felt for Leigh with this ability to let him go so easily. ‘If I had Leigh, I’d have to be the only one for the rest of my life. I could never let him be with another woman in that way if he was mine.’Zoë was watching me closely. ‘Sometimes it’s better to have a small portion of what you desire most than to go without entirely. That’s the choice for most of us. With you, it’ll be different. Leigh doesn’t know he’s falling in love with you, because it’s never happened to him before. There’s a world of difference between loving women and being in love with a woman. One day Leigh will find that being in love with you is more important than anything else. When that happens he’ll be yours exclusively, just the way you want him, sweetie. Come on, it’s growing cool and I’m whacked. Let’s get to our lonely beds.’ She dropped the glowing cigarette onto the grass and twisted her shoe over it as if she hated the thing and wanted to grind it to pulp.Zoë seemed so certain about my future with Leigh and there were so many questions I had for her. But she swept into the house and left me to close the doors and turn off the lights. By the time I reached the landing, her door was closed and the light was off. In the silence, I thought I heard weeping, but it was so quiet I couldn’t be sure.Tired, exhilarated, full of fearful optimism, my head buzzing with all I’d heard, I lay in my bed and watched the crescent of the moon slowly cross the blackness through my window. It was very late when I found sleep.



###
You've come all this way, so it's unlikely you'll stop until you reach the end. But, just in case you're impatient for the next chapter, you know where you can buy the book. If you do, please write a review and post it wherever you can - Amazon, Goodreads, any other bookish site. Reviews are what get indie published books noticed, you see.
Tweet with me on Twitter: http://twitter.com/@stuartaken
Like my author page on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/StuartAkenMy website has links to 100s of other sites of interest: http://stuartaken.co.ukRead on Goodreads:  http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/4234877.Stuart_AkenStumble with me: http://www.stumbleupon.com/stumbler/stuartakenCome Digg with me: http://digg.com/stuartakenPin with me here: http://pinterest.com/stuartaken/Buy my ebooks via Smashwords: http://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/stuartakenUSA readers, see my author page on Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/author/stuartaken(for some odd reason, this type of link isn't yet available on Amazon for UK)         [image error]