Liz Everly's Blog, page 107

Why Can We Not Shut Up About Renee Zellweger’s Face?

by Kiersten Hallie Krum

Renée Zellweger has been out of the spotlight for a few years but stepped back into it in a huge way when she appeared at Elle Magazine’s annual Women in Hollywood awards. A collective gasp was heard around the world when she appeared looking dramatically…different.

Now…Then

Granted, a lot of it has to do with how and when she’s photographed and some of the pictures out there make her look much, much worse than she actually appears. But why the outcry over Renée Zellweger’s alteration? Is the world just completely incapable of dealing with a woman aging in the public eye? Do we look with titillated horror at her transformation as though it’s some sort of comeuppance for manipulating her beauty? Why again is this at the top of the 11 o’clock news cycle in the first place?

Most pundits believe the collective shock over Renée Zellweger’s facial changes is mostly because popular culture cannot deal with a woman aging in public. Well no, it can’t, and women are almost (though not entirely) exclusively subjected to a brutal public judgment on everything to how they appear to how they act to how they do–or do not–breed. But even the staunchest feminist has to admit that age alone did not cause the dramatic changes in Renée Zellweger. Even so, it’s not that she allegedly had plastic surgery to maintain or enhance her looks. It’s that she dared to do it so dramatically, we the public can not maintain the fiction that it’s possible to age without external help to keep us looking as though we’re not aging.

You can re-read that last sentence until it makes sense. I’ll wait.

It is, of course, her face and thus her business. But as a public figure who has made a living with her face (and her considerable talent, but more on that in mo), any change is going to bring about extensive commentary. It should not, however, invite moral judgment. That said, a quick Google search of Renée Zellweger’s name populates a baffling amount of op-eds. About her face.

Why can we not shut up about Renée Zellweger’s face?

Experts in The New York Times article “Why the Strong Reaction to Renée Zellweger’s Face?” think the outcry is due to the public no longer being able to recognize a familiar face. “This is about a lot of subtle changes that up to a person who no longer looks like our memory of them. She looks like a different person,” says evolutionary psychologist Nancy Etcoff in The Times. In the same article, Doctor Debra L. Spar, author of Wonder Women: Sex, Power, and the Quest of Perfection, notes the hypocrisy of the situation. “On the one hand, we’re being told don’t worry about how you look, embrace inner goodness, and stop judging on external appearance, and yet, as a community, we have done nothing but talk about poor Renée Zellweger’s face all week.”

This Boston Globe piece suggests the public can’t get over when “America’s Sweetheart” movie stars change their appearances so that they no long look like the relatable girl-next-store ideal we fell in love with in the first place.

“Adoring fans take it personally. They feel baffled (“Why would you do that to yourself?”). They feel sad (“Why aren’t you the same sweet girl with the same sweet face you had a quarter century ago?”). Most of all, they feel offended (“Why would you purposely deprive me of my fantasy that you’re not an actress playing a part but are actually Baby/Sally/Dorothy? Why would you remind me that I’m older than I was when we first “met”? Why can’t you let me live in the 1970s/1980s/1990s, back in the days of wine and roses instead of the days of Gawker and TMZ?”)”

Amanda Marcotte at The Daily Beast thinks it’s more about the delusion of how hard women are expected to work to look like they’re not trying to look good while still looking good.

“[Renée] Zellweger’s face puts us off because it reminds us that she’s had work done and we’d prefer to think that somehow there’s a way to be 45 without looking 45 that doesn’t require work….Perhaps this should be an invitation to everyone to stop pretending that effortless perfection is a thing that exists in the world.”

An op-ed in The Atlantic consists entirely of a series of questions the writer now has buzzing about in her head to ask of Renée Zellweger solely about her transformation. In The Atlantic!

Nowhere in these pieces is there a discussion of Renée Zellweger’s considerable talent. Bridget Jones is regularly name-checked as her most broadly relatable character now impinged by the actress’s changed appearance along with Dorothy from Jerry Maguire and a few hat tips to her Oscar-winning role in Cold Mountain. But little of her outstanding work in Chicago is mentioned, for example. It’s all about her face, as though she has no identity or purpose beyond her “look”. Or, as comedian Russell Brand puts it in his The Trews news segment that mocks the “news” coverage of Renée Zellweger, “‘This is the thing that made Renée Zellweger herself: Her eyes.’ Not any kind of essential relationship with an unknowable entity. Not her personal experiences that she’s been through. Not her talent or her charm or her individual experiences as a woman. It’s her eyes. That’s what made her herself.”

Brand’s mocking scorn brings home the most disturbing, if not surprising, point: Renée Zellweger is being completely boiled down to the sum of her parts and that sum no longer equals the public’s expectations, so it’s open season. Never mind her talent or body of work. Never mind that she’s living a healthier life or that she claims to be the happiest she’s ever been. She doesn’t look the same, thus she must be vilified. All her success and accomplishments, her personality and values, are brushed aside because her face changed. I mean, good God, if this is what happens to her, what hope do the rest of us have?

Our image-obsessed society is too accustomed and too ready to associate physical attributes with success and attraction. We do it as writers too: the first way we describe a character is through their appearance. Those descriptions are often deployed as short-hand speak for character attributes, especially when we veer off from the standard hair color, eye color, and facial features descriptors and delve more deeply, like with the addition of a prominent scar or a person who dresses impeccably to hide a messy inner life, to show how the outward image of our characters reflects inward trauma and/or happiness. (Well, it’s always initially trauma, innit? If they all started out happy, we’d have nothing to write about.) We write Romance in its variety of forms so of course we want our characters to be attractive, at least to each other and, most importantly, to the reader. They have to be people who physically appeal to the reader, to the public, before we can get those readers to care about them. They have to be an image to which the reader can aspire before they can be a character for which the reader will invest. That’s a little backwards, yeah? Readers should invest because our characters are interesting and challenging and complex and entertaining in one way or another, not only because they fit some sort of physical ideal. And yet, that’s the world we write in; that’s the world we live in. Just ask Renée Zellweger.

The world is full of people brushed aside because they don’t meet the popular idea of beauty, a concept that itself changes every few centuries. We bemoan air-brushed magazines covers and scoff at underfed actresses only to bitch when one of those women dares to do something else, dares to be something else. Renée Zellweger herself told People Magazine she’s happy the world is discussing her transformation. “I’m glad folks think I look different! I’m living a different, happy, more fulfilling life, and I’m thrilled that perhaps it shows.” Happiness is the golden ticket, right? That’s what the Internet memes exhort, at least. Happiness is what we all ultimately want in our lives and presume to want for others. In Romance, our readers want to see how our characters ultimately live happily ever after, or at least happy for now. As such, we’d all be better off to focus more on what Renée Zellweger is saying and less on how she’s looking, or as Russell Brand puts it:

“The important spiritual message this woman is trying to convey about personal transition is completely submerged in a glistening deluge of odd gloating and sacrificial sort of meanness.”

 See the entirety of Russell Brand’s The Trews segment embedded below.

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Seize Him! Considering the Man in Chains

Behold! Hell is leashed.

By Alexa Day

Last week, I got myself all fluttery inside talking about the abduction fantasy and the $65,000 Jaguar F coupe. Truthfully, I’m still a little fluttery over all that. In the course of our discussion in the comments, my colleague Elizabeth Shore suggested that I should address the equally tingly issue of men attached by chain to showerheads, beds, and/or other fixtures and heavy pieces of furniture.

Of course, I’m happy to pursue the pressing topics of the day for your enjoyment.

I mentioned last week that I found the imagery of various hot shirtless men in bondage stimulating. I personally prefer looking at hot shirtless men with chains or handcuffs, but in a pinch, rope will also work nicely. The reasons for this are just a little complicated, now that I stop to think about them.

The man in chains is in chains for a reason. My favorite reason is that he might be dangerous. Russell Crowe’s Maximus in Gladiator is my favorite example. When Connie Nielsen’s Lucilla goes to visit him in a suitably dark place, he’s chained to the wall, but not totally immobilized. (A wealthy Roman lady could pay for a gladiator’s sexual favors, you know. So you’d want him to be able to move a little, but not enough to hurt you nonconsensually.) In their scene together, Maximus gets Lucilla’s attention by advancing toward her until the chain goes taut. Restraint has only altered his authority. There’s still plenty of Maximus to reckon with, but a big part of the thrill comes from proximity to someone dangerous enough to warrant restraints.

Just how good is it to be queen? Click and see.

The man in chains was restrained as a courtesy, probably by other men. For most women, the actual task of putting a man in chains without his consent is outside the realm of practical possibilities, although it is certainly interesting to think about winning that particular wrestling match. (I’m hoping to hear from an exceptional woman in today’s comments section.) If I arrived somewhere, like a hotel room, and found a man secured to the bed with handcuffs, I would know that I had authority over not only the fellow in bed but over whoever left that person there for me in lieu of a mint on the pillow. That’s one hell of a concierge service! (Emma Holly wrote one of my favorite stories in this vein, “Queen of All She Surveys,” in Beyond the Dark. The heroine maintains a harem of men to satisfy her sexual appetites.)

The man in chains is there because he chose the chains. The man who chooses to

Tell me you don’t want a little of that. Click for a lot of it.

surrender to us has given us an amazing gift — trust that is not necessarily backed by his physical strength. If he’s restrained, he’s subject to our whims — whatever they are, for as long as we want. He has to trust that we care enough for his safety to free him if necessary because he won’t be able to free himself. The experience is powerful and rare, and erotic romance hasn’t devoted enough attention to it in the context of female domination, frankly. (For FemDom done beautifully, I will always refer you to Joey W. Hill’s work, especially Natural Law.)

So much of bondage’s allure emerges from symbolism. I think that’s why male bondage imagery works so well; it’s a visual representation of our planet’s most dangerous lifeform, rendered helpless. The darker charge behind male bondage fantasy comes from the behavior of the man in chains. Is he a prisoner? Is he a very special gift? Are we his saviors, his jailers, or a little of both? In our fantasies, it’s entirely up to us.

Follow Lady Smut. We’ll keep you all tied up in knots … in the nicest possible way.

Sexy Saturday Round-Up

By Liz Everly and the Lady Smut Bloggers

Click to get in line for release day!

Hello, sexy! How is your Saturday going? Well, let us help you liven it up a bit with come choice blog posts. We’ve searched high and low and this is what we have for you.

From Liz:

Learning about plot from Buffy.

Thoughts on a vagina trainer.

If you’re married and you think sex is boring, you’re doing it wrong.

From Madeline:

Scary SWF with Santa Fixation seeks…

Forget everything you ever heard about female orgasms–because it’s all wrong.

Science says it only takes a fifth of a second to fall in love.

The adultery arms race ratchets up.

Why teens sext.

From C. Margery Kempe:

Why you keep some relationships on the back burner

How to Succeed in a Clickbait World

Writer being a dick on OKCupid

From Elizabeth:

If the characters in your erotic romance have nothing useful to say, tell them to shut the f*** up.

Don’t unload on social media. Apparently, it’ll make you feel worse.

Monica Lewinsky is finally on Twitter. Why this is a good thing.

Playboy pinups from the 60’s and 70’s  – all now card carrying members of AARP- are back for another photo session.

From Alexa:

Your social media feed is not as horrendous as it could be, thanks to these folks.

Is the cravat hot because it demonstrates attention to appearance or because it tempts idle hands to remove it?

Aging, identity, and drag: consider this club in San Francisco and the drag queens who have performed there for years.

Stay Hungry,

Liz

P.S. for all the latest, follow us, you won’t be sorry!

 

Spend One Night in Amsterdam with Jaz Hartfield

by C. Margery Kempe

I’m turning today’s blog over to my colleague, Jaz Hartfield:

I’m very excited about the release of ‘One Night In Amsterdam’. Whilst I’ve had some short stories in anthologies and magazines, this is my first big publication. It’s also my first foray into erotic romance, which has been a very interesting journey. I heard that Tirgearr were open to submissions for their ‘City Nights’ erotic romance series, and I’ve always loved a challenge.

I had an idea based on hen and stag parties in Amsterdam. I’ve been on such weekends and I know the mayhem that can be caused on such trips. The red-light district in Amsterdam is a complete free-for-all. You name it and it’s probably on show or in a shop window somewhere. The Banana Bar and the Sex Museum, plus other places mentioned in the book are all real. I remember enjoying the crazy lads’ weekend – getting drunk, watching dodgy shows and so on (I’ll leave the rest to your imaginations). But by the end I just wanted to go home and do normal things like washing up and drink a hot cup of tea! See, I know how to party.

I began to wonder if romance could occur in such a place of debauchery, and that is the beginning of ‘Onne Night in Amsterdam’. In terms of romance, the book also questions where love and sex overlap. Where does love begin and lust end ? It’s an age old question, but here is a modern version of that narrative.

I wrote the novel, putting in what I thought was lots of hot and explicit sex, only to be told by my editor that it needed much more! So here it is. Will you be brave enough to spend ‘One Night in Amsterdam’?

Blurb for ‘One Night in Amsterdam’:

Chloe organizes Jo’s hen weekend in Amsterdam, glad to get away from the usual boring or married men that she sleeps with. Perhaps she’ll meet some cool guys up for a bit of fun. If not, at least she’ll make sure her best friend gets very drunk while they all party in style.

Dean is getting married to Tamsin, but having serious doubts. His mates take him to Amsterdam for one last weekend of debauchery before settling down for the rest of his life. But is Tamsin the right woman for him?

When Chloe and Dean meet in Amsterdam’s red-light district, they are immediately attracted to each other. Dean tries to justify one last fling before marrying Tamsin. Chloe feels bad about having sex with someone else’s intended. Yet, a night of amazing sex is exactly what both of them want. So, why shouldn’t they just enjoy one night of fantastic, guilt-free sex?

Extract from ‘One Night in Amsterdam’:

Stepping forward with a sigh, Chloe pulled her pink sweatshirt up to her neck, pushed her fingertips under the wire of her bra and tugged upwards. Her boobs fell free and bounced in the cool air.

A huge cheer erupted. That was when she saw all the mobile phones pointing in her direction, and she wondered which dodgy sites she’d be starring on tomorrow. She could only hope her family, friends and colleagues didn’t subscribe to them.

“Satisfied?” she asked Lars who stared open-mouthed. “Thirty Euros, yeah?”

Lars put his hand down his trousers and stepped closer to her, his tongue now waggling lasciviously, and closing in on her right nipple. Chloe deftly replaced her bra and sweatshirt just in time.

“I’m not a bloody prostitute, you perv. Don’t touch me unless you want your gonads shoved up your throat.”

Lars stepped back and removed his hand from his trousers. The crowd around began to disperse.

“Thirty, right?”

“Didn’t we say forty?” Lars replied, holding out his hand – the same one he’d just taken out of his underpants.

“Pay up, Chlo,” Di said with a sneer. “You’re in charge of the dosh.”

They all looked at her. She took out her purse and pressed her last three ten Euro notes into his hand. “You should be paying me after what I did.”

To her horror, he took her hand and thrust his card into it. “I would like to fuck you. Call me.”

“Piss off, creep.” Chloe handed it straight to Di, whose face lit up. Lars scowled but immediately shrugged it off.

“Follow me.”

He led them a hundred metres or so up the street until they reached another brightly lit building, this time with a giant pink elephant in lights on the facade. Underneath it said ‘Theatre Casa Rosso’ in red neon lettering. Lars muttered something to the bouncer who nodded and beckoned them in.

“Tequila slammers all round. Get ‘em in Chloe.” Di pulled a face at Chloe, who tutted and nodded. She got out her credit card.

“Take your seats ladies. We bring drinks to you.” He took the credit card. “I keep tab open for you.”

“Thanks Chloe. You’re the best,” Jo said, stroking her arm.

“Enjoy the show.”

They went through into the auditorium and found seats in the second to last row. It looked like any civic theatre with stalls and a circle. The only real difference was that on stage a longhaired man was thrusting doggy style behind a blonde woman on all fours.

Chloe nearly dropped her drink. The couple looked bored as they spun slowly round on a turntable, so the audience could view the spectacle from different angles. The naked couple kept changing positions, displaying mindboggling gymnastic agility. He had an enormous dick with a cock-ring glinting on it. She seemed to like him entering her from behind and orally. They just kept changing from one position to another, him thrusting endlessly and never appearing to ever climax. The five girls giggled and nudged each other.

“How does he keep going like that?” Di spluttered. “Most blokes I’ve been with only last two minutes, max. Now he’s a real man.”

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Are You A Good Witch? Or a BAD Witch?

by Madeline Iva

It’s October!  All hail Halloween! At this time of year I’m possessed–it’s like the spirit of some former corn harvest festival queen wakes within me.  I could happily spend this time of year with an armload of mums in one arm, and a pan of pumpkin cranberry muffins in the other. The season makes me feel all witchy-woman, and I glory in it.

Nowadays readers can find all kinds of paranormal good witches to read about with their ley lines kicking ass through various urban fantasy series. (I’m talking about you Anya Bast.) I’ve written about some great witchy book recs HERE.

Speaking of good witches, I have long been fascinated with Glinda the Good Witch from The Wizard of Oz.  The costume of Glinda in the movie will *forever* captivate me; I could stare at her all day.  Yet her character is actually rather irritating in the movie.  I mean, great voice, great opening line: “Are you a good witch, or a bad witch?” But it’s all downhill after that.  However, in the book series, (written around 1920) she’s all art-nouveau cool with this interesting little crown and all understated magic-y.

That said, I still find a huge amount of appeal in a bad witch.  Willow, for instance, on Buffy the Vampire Slayer, was never as fun as when she was being a bad witch.  “Bored now” became a refrain around our house, and I personally love that all black eyes look.

Certainly, when I was little I got into it — I’d go into the bathroom and make ‘potions’ for hours.  I’d start with water and some shaving cream in the sink and then dump in anything else green, blue, or otherwise fascinating from the medicine cabinet.  There was a garden version of this that involved mud, greenery, and the sacrifice of my poor grandmother’s favorite potted plants–especially those with unusual leaf shapes and flowers.

The love of potions continues to this day.  I still love animals, gardening, baking, and herbal teas. What is witchy-ness but a sexier version of botany, a more seductive chemistry, a bad-ass biology?  There is some innate curiosity I had as a little girl and still have as a writer today–a desire to pick up the corner of life and poke underneath it with a stick to see what’s happening amongst all the rot and decay.

The Lady Smut Book of Dark Desires (an Anthology): Harperimpulse Erotic Romance

Click to pre-order.

Before paranormal had its way with modern readers,bad witches were always old hags.  Midwives, women with knowledge, and women who didn’t give a damn anymore–who let it all hang out.  Women who weren’t self-sacrifical. They offered their help, yes, but for a price.  That’s some potent ju-ju up the nose of the patriarchy.

At any rate, I invite you to ride off this fall across the harvest moon on your broomstick.  Unleashing ones inner hag feels glorious and slinky–it’s like slipping into a bed with clean sheets just after shaving your legs.  Yet this season is seriously unsung in terms of anthem songs.  To help you celebrate, I’ve assembled an ultra-cool list of songs below. Listen to these tunes and you’ll be ready to lament, wail, and summon up any creatures from the inky reaches of night that your rotten old heart desires.

We of course, are ready to array ourselves in full shiver mode, going through the final stages of getting our first anthology ready for release. Boo-ya! And our anthology is available for pre-order! Isn’t that exciting?

Let us put a spell on you–follow our Lady Smut blog of witchy women.  We’ll bring that old black magic every week.

Season of the Witch by Donovan

Witchy Woman by the Eagles

I Put A Spell On You by Screamin’ Jay Hawkins

Time of the Season by The Zombies

House of the Rising Sun by The Animals

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Getting Your Ass Out There For The Sake Of Writing

By Elizabeth Shore

If you’ve never had the opportunity to attend the New Jersey RWA Put Your Heart in a Book annual conference, you really should think about it. In fact, how about right now. I just returned from attending it this past weekend and I have to say, it’s pretty amazing. Loads of helpful workshops, agent and editor pitch sessions, and best-selling authors giving keynote talks. The editors and agents often stay on long after the official pitch sessions, and chatting them up at the bar or in the after conference party is completely doable. Plus, it’s not a giant overwhelming mega-conference like RWA National where you can easily feel as lost as a mouse in a maze.

One of the keynote speakers this year was the wonderful Susan Mallery, whose work has appeared repeatedly on the New York Times bestseller list and who has thus far in her career sold over 25 million books. That’s a shitload of books. How has she achieved thiat kind of success? Susan, in her presentation, told us eager listeners that she’d share her secret. Ooooooh, goody. We all leaned forward, like people in an E.F. Hutton commercial, eager to catch every word. Then Susan told us. The secret to becoming a bestselling author, she said, was to do one thing and one thing only. Show up.

Wait … what? Show up? That’s it? What about just writing a great book? That’s what we keep hearing over and over. Write a great book. Well, of course, this whole writing thing starts with having a great book. That’s a given. But let’s face it, there are a lot of writers who’ve written great books. There are a lot of great books out there that will never see the light of day. They’re collecting real or virtual dust on the shelves, never having earned the acceptance of an editor who says she’s buying it. The problem, according to Mallery, is that the writer hasn’t done enough showing up.

There are variations on the theme of Mallery’s statement, such as “you’ve got to be in it to win it,” but the essence of the meaning is clear. Yes, you have to have a product to sell and promote and get yourself on a best seller’s list. Without that you have nothing. But showing up in many ways is much, much harder, particularly for writers who, by nature, are often raging introverts. Show up? we might sniff. As in, like, talking to people? Eeeeewwww.

But yes, as in talking to people. As in going to conferences, signing up to do workshops, attending book signings, chatting up your readers. There’s also, Mallery pointed out, virtual showing up. We all know we need to be active on social media. We know it, but so many of us don’t do it, at least not to the extent needed. We’re busy. We have jobs We have families. We need time to write. It’s all true, but making yourself visible is nowadays not a nice-to-have luxury, it’s a make-it-or-break-it fact of the writing life.

New York Times best selling historical romance author Madeline Hunter echoed Mallery’s statement about showing up when she pointed out how important it is to put yourself out there as an author. Not only do you need to build a fan base of readers, but Hunter made a rather sobering statement about the state of the industry when she said that nowadays slow sales can tank a career, even if it’s on a first book. The expectation on us authors to promote promote promote is a given, and if a publisher sees an author less than eager to become a one-woman marketing machine, they can easily move on to someone else who is.

So there you have it – the secret to publishing success. Get your ass out of the chair and show up. Go to events. Give talks at libraries, sign books, talk to strangers in line at the grocery store. Keep your Facebook up to date, Tweet, Pin, write your blog. It’s not easy, but if it were anyone could do it, and you’re not just anyone. Right?

Here at Lady Smut we show up seven days a week with new posts, so be sure to hit that follow button and come along with us. And if you’re in the mood for a dark and sexy read, reward yourself by pre-ordering a copy of The Lady Smut Book of Dark Desires.

Click to get in line for release day!

 

 

 

Dark Desires: A $3,000 Orgasm

By Liz Everly

A few weeks back, when Lady Smut held a pre-launch party for our book THE LADY SMUT BOOK OF DARK DESIRES, sex toys were given out as door prizes. They were from the lingerie store Derriere de soie, where we had the party. (You can check out their line of sleek, ahem, TOYS, from their online store HERE.) Such a fabulous and generous store. In any case, it was an odd sensation to be sitting with a group of women talking sex toys and passing around these rather intimate objects and testing them in our hands.

Photo by Bahia Noticias

I don’t think my mother would approve. And that suits me just fine. Grin.

I don’t think this is something I could have imagined doing 20 years ago. I wasn’t embarrassed and it didn’t make me the least bit uncomfortable, even though many of the women there were people I barely knew. It helped that many of the women there were as comfortable as I was.

But we were all women of a certain age. Most of us have had children; none of us were virgins. All of us had probably had more than one lover in our lives. So, what’s to be embarrassed about with a little vibrating sex toy?

I won the most expensive and probably most interesting sex toy there. It’s the Olga by Lelo. It’s metallic and doesn’t vibrate. It’s much heavier than one would think you could have use for as a sex toy. I thought if I didn’t have kids I might use it as an interesting paper weight–you know it would be a great one for an erotic romance writer.

But then, I looked it up online.

It’s weight is supposedly one of it’s many benefits–as when it’s inserted, it presses right on the g-spot in most women. The other thing it’s very good for is holding temperature. If you put it on ice, it will remain cold—or you can heat it in the microwave and try the warmed-up version. I’ve been sending pictures to my friends and one said, “Now that I’ve seen it on ice, I admit–I kinda want it.”

Well, too bad. It’s mine. ;-)

Here it is on ice:

If you’re interested, there are more toys here.  On the olga website there is a gold-plated toy available for over $3,000. That’s right. A gold-plated dildo. That, my friend, must be one hell of an orgasm. But if you can spend even more, I’ve seen toys for $7,000 and $13,000. Here is a good review of the Olga. 

In any case, between the new toy I won, and the lovely toys LoveHoney recently sent me, I’m flush with sex toys. Which is not something I’d ever imagine myself saying or writing. But there you have it.

P.S. Please don’t send me any more sex toys. (More words I never thought I’d write.) If you have an itch to send me something, fine chocolate, champagne, jewelry, lingerie will do.  For the price of one of these luxury sex toys, I’d rather take a trip to Europe or a tropical island, where I could, indeed, indulge in all of my new toys.  That’s what’s at the top of my I’ve-been-a-very-good-girl list.  Grin.

If you like your romance steamy hot, you can pre-order a print copy of THE LADY SMUT BOOK OF DARK DESIRES here.

The Lady Smut Book of Dark Desires (an Anthology): Harperimpulse Erotic Romance

Click to pre-order

In the mean time, if you like historical fiction where dildos ARE NOT included, check out my latest : Tempting Will McGlashen, featuring Scottish blacksmith and an innkeeper’s daughter.  Meanwhile, can we tempt you to follow our blog? ; >

Tempting Will McGlashen

Click to order!

 

Kiersten Hallie Krum Is Away Today….

But will be back next week.

Enjoy this eye candy — our new anthology cover. :)

Take Me Away: F Coupes and Fantasies of Abduction

 

That’s nice, isn’t it? It’ll be his turn soon enough.

By Alexa Day

I love this year’s line of Jaguar commercials. The ones that reassure us that Brits make the best villains. I think they started during this year’s Super Bowl. I remember watching Mark Strong driving that gorgeous F coupe around. Between his sinfully sexy voice and the delicious growl of the engine, I’d have bought whatever the television told me to. It’s probably best that the base model F coupe costs $65,000, or I’d be living in it now.

I lost sight of the ads for a while, until I heard bits of breathless praise for one featuring Tom Hiddleston. Tom doesn’t do anything for me. I’m sure he’s a lovely person; I just don’t find him attractive. As a result, I didn’t pay loads of attention to what people were saying.

Tom Hiddleston … something something … Jaguar … something … bag in the trunk … something … what’s in the bag?

Here’s how it really goes.

When I finally watched it, my first thought was that the bag was too small. I had envisioned a large bag, made of silky black fabric, with a sleek length of rope to fasten the top.

You know, something big enough for me.

I’m not saying that I fantasize about being dropped into the Jaguar’s luxuriant trunk by Tom Hiddleston. I’m not attracted to Tom. If Mark Strong wanted me in the trunk of the F coupe, however, he wouldn’t even need the bag. I’m not just going to hop in because he says to, mostly because I enjoy listening to him talk. But I would offer him only token resistance. I might bite his hand just to see what sort of sound he made, but my plan is to end up in the trunk like a good girl.

The abduction fantasy has been one of my favorites for many years, at least since high school. I’ve long indulged thoughts of being carried off by strong, powerful men who needed me for something they knew I would not surrender willingly. The fantasy’s politically incorrect surface discourages most people from examining it further. I think people struggle to understand that it has no correlation to actual abduction, and I think they struggle with this more than they do with a lot of other sexual fantasies. Because I enjoy the abduction fantasy and its permutations so much, though, I don’t mind studying it from time to time. Themes of power, surrender, control of self and control of others pop up in my writing fairly often. I just think that sort of thing is hot, and I like experimenting with all those boundaries.

The abduction fantasy wears many faces. I maintain a mental shortlist with a rotating cast of fantasy kidnappers. (And they are all mine. Not sharing them.) Some of them are good-looking sophisticates, guys like Mark, who want something I have. A state secret. Launch codes. Passwords. Knowledge of arcane languages. They’re endlessly patient and wonderfully seductive, and this flavor of fantasy is more about power than about sex. I mean, until I give up the launch codes or whatever, the plot for world domination is at a standstill, right? I’ll get to see just what this person will do to get what he wants from me. That’s a nice train of thought.

Click to get in line for release day!

And sometimes I’m dealing with a rough character with baser interests. These guys look more like Jason Statham, accustomed to the use of force. They might deliver me to someone who wants the launch codes, but along the way, any number of inappropriate things might happen. This one’s about power, too, but not in the same way. It’s about being desirable enough to erode a man’s self-control. It’s about driving a man beyond regard for consequences. In a world where successful single women still hear that men are “too intimidated” to approach them, the rougher abduction fantasy, starring men who are not at all afraid of women, will always have a place.

I’m so tempted at this point to get into the family of fantasies featuring us women as the abductors of men. If you’re following my author page on Facebook, you’ve already seen occasional pictures of hot shirtless dudes tied to beds, showerheads and the like. I think that sort of thing is stimulating. But it is perhaps another story for another day.

For now, I’m going back into the trunk of the imaginary F coupe. I’m going to look at the trunk release handle — because a $65,000 car certainly has one — and I’m going to wonder just what Mark Strong is going to ask me for and whether I’m inclined to give it to him today.

As for you, get your own F coupe! Preorder your copy of The Lady Smut Book of Dark Desires for more hotness.

And follow Lady Smut if you know what’s good for you.

Sexy Saturday Round-Up

By Liz Everly and the Lady Smut Bloggers

Happy Saturday! We’ve got a great line-up of blog posts for you this week.

From Liz:

Barbara Freethy into print, keeping all digital rights.

A new twist on the dangers of sex in the ocean. 

But what was she wearing?  Why it doesn’t matter.

From CMK:

Cosplay is NOT consent: the creepy things guys say

Gone Girl and Why We Need Female Villains (spoilery)

If I were locked in a bookstore, I’d be in heaven; this guy, not so much

From Madeline Iva:

Science has found the Cure For A Broken Heart.

Oh No!!! Oh yes –It’s the annual Wife Carrying Race.

This from Romance University: cultivating cruelty as a romance writer.

This from Romance Beat.com: 10 Ways You Know You’re Not Living In A Romance Novel.

From Alexa:

This problem is not limited to the Sexiest Woman Alive stories, but it’s worth considering anyway.

The primal forces behind sex and terror have held hands for a long time. Here’s why.

Maya Rodale gives us this list of things romance novels teach us about life. Check out 10, 26 and 27 in particular.