Category Archives: Characters

Olivia and the Advent Calendar

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Superotica Advent Calendar 2014

Today I am a guest over at Tamsin Flowers’ blog Superotica, #14 on her Advent Calendar. Tamsin has featured another excerpt from my work-in-progress, Switch, with the continuing adventures of Olivia Strong.

Yes, that’s right, Tamsin has herself just published a story featuring another submissive named Olivia — Olivia Roux — and there are even a few other similarities between her Olivia and mine, though this is entirely coincidental. The similarities end there, but I like to think that if her Olivia and mine were to meet they would be friends. I think they would. I am going to post later in much more detail about Tamsin’s Olivia and her fabulous new serial novel Alchemy xii.

Today, however, I want to talk about Tamsin’s Superotica Advent Calendar. Every day from December 1 through December 24 she is posting a new story or excerpt, almost (and so far) entirely by guests, not by herself. Each story is accompanied by a picture (usually) selected by Tamsin, and she has been choosing some very interesting ones! This is in part inspired by Alison Tyler’s October post Power On, and in part just Tamsin’s own generous nature shining through, but her goal is to showcase a number of writers, some well-known and others up-and-coming, whose work she enjoys. I can tell you, there have so far been some amazing pieces featured, and it has become a regular feature for me every morning to read and enjoy the latest. So far, we have had:

  1. Alison Tyler – A Brief Distraction
  2. Saskia Walker – Monica’s Secret
  3. Justine Elyot – Hearts and Diamonds
  4. Ella Dawson – Promises
  5. Kay Jaybee – Santa’s Little Helper
  6. L Maretta – Falling From Disgrace
  7. Lana Fox – Cream: An Erotic Romance
  8. Molly Moore – Secret Santa
  9. Oleander Plume – Chemical [se]X
  10. Jade A Waters – Fertile
  11. Sommer Marsden – ‘Tis The Season
  12. Janine Ashbless – The Military Mind
  13. Delilah Night – Plunder
  14. … Me!

To say that I’m a little nervous, being in amongst some very famous names here, well, it’s a bit of an understatement!

In this excerpt, which takes place shortly after the most recent excerpt I’ve posted here on my own blog, things between Olivia and Nicholas have definitely heated up. I hope you enjoy it!

I also hope you enjoy all the other fine writers who have been featured so far, and will be featured in the ten days to come, of the Advent Calendar. No, I do not know who the remaining ten writers will be, just as I did not know who would come before me until each day when they appeared.

Thank you so much, Tamsin! You’re an absolute doll! ❤

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Distractions and a Quick Snippet

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I’ve been working on Partners and Crime lately, trying to expand it to a longer, single piece of, oh, perhaps 8000 words or so when done (for comparison, the three parts already posted here came to a total of about 3300 words combined). I have actually found it a little bit slow going, partly because I’m still figuring out where this story is supposed to end up (remember, it started as flash fiction and was never supposed to be more than a thousand words or so), and partly because I originally intended it for posting only to the blog, which I generally keep at no more than, um, somewhere between PG-13 and R rated, perhaps, and yes, it has now definitely crossed that border firmly into R territory, maybe even a little NC-17 in there.

Which is odd, because it’s not as if I haven’t written some very explicit scenes in other stories before (Switch). Why is this one different? Perhaps it’s because I’m actually thinking about how this one could appear as a short novelette on Amazon? Because I’m already thinking about potential beta readers and their reactions? Because when I first started writing Switch (which, so far, is much more explicit) a year ago, I didn’t ever expect to show it to anyone?

Or perhaps I’m just massively overthinking it.

Or spending too much time on social media. Yeah, there’s always that. Having trouble wordsmithing the next sentence? No problem! After all, someone just favorited my latest rambling tweet, and I need to go check that out. Oh, and look, someone just posted a very interesting article on — wait for it — social media strategy for authors; I’d definitely better read that. And hey, some of my favorite authors just got published in a new anthology; mmm, reading that sounds like much greater fun.

(On a side note, Chemical [se]X, edited by Oleander Plume, really is great fun to read.)

The blog could use an overhaul, too — really, I should put my excerpts together on an actual page — and gosh, I haven’t posted anything in a long time, and… well, I’m taking care of that problem right now, aren’t I? And distracting myself from finishing up a measly few thousand more words in Partners and Crime.

Ok, though, seriously, where do you think the story should go? When last we left them, Eileen McConnell and Daryl Travers had to dash into a shower stall in the women’s locker room at the police department where they both work because two other officers had just come in to the room. Oh, and Travers had been wearing Eileen’s handcuffs for most of the action up to this point, though she has just taken them off him (though that story point could change — what do you think?). Now, if you aren’t exactly clear on how these two ended up in this predicament, this would be an excellent time to go back and read the three installments I posted to the blog.

On another side note, Jade, I really did not have you in mind when I named one of the two officers entering the room Waters — the name just appeared from thin air as I wrote — but, hey, what would you do if you were in your namesake’s position? And yes, I know you aren’t nearly as crude and crass as the Waters in the story. You’re far too nice, and she’s… well, she’s not. At least, not yet.

Finally, I’ll leave you with a very brief snippet from the continuing story:

He tugged, and with a wiggle of my hips my panties slipped down my thighs. I tried to kick them away, but only succeeded in tangling them about my ankles. If Travers noticed, he gave no sign, and very quickly I forgot all about them too when…

When what? Ah, I’ll leave that to your imagination… for now.

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Safewords and Spankings

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[Yet another excerpt from my work-in-progress novel, Switch. If you haven’t read the previous excerpts, you can find them at https://lacewinter.com/category/novels/switch/. In this scene, Nicholas has just delivered Olivia’s first-ever erotic spanking, and while it thoroughly aroused her (and hurt like hell), it left her confused about her feelings with regard to submission. This gives her an idea, but things never seem to work out quite the way Olivia plans.]

 

“Maybe you should have a safeword,” I said.

“Oh, really? And why is that?”

“Because just maybe I might want to tie you down instead, and spank your bottom. After all, I think you’ve been a very naughty Dom.”

Nicholas laughed. “Naughty? How have I been naughty?”

“Well, to use your own metaphor, you may steer the car and hit the accelerator, but only I have the brake pedal. Well, I’m not the one who put the brakes on just now; that was you. I was ready to press on, but you are the one who slowed things down. So, it seems to me that your foot strayed over the line onto my pedal, and therefore you were out of bounds and deserve a spanking.”

He truly looked amused. I don’t think he took me seriously. Of course, I’m not sure that I was being serious, I was just riffing on his own line, but now that we’d gone there, why not? I tapped his chest with my forefinger.

“So, big boy, what’s it going to be? Will you bend over that bench like a good boy and take the punishment you deserve, or do I need to restrain you?”

“And if I decide not to cooperate, little girl, just how are you going to bend me to your will?”

I took his hand and pulled it between my legs, placing his palm against the heat emanating again through my panties.

“You want this, don’t you?”

A fire gleamed in his eyes, and he didn’t pull his hand away.

“Well, if you harbor any hopes of getting that reward, and make no mistake, it will be a reward, then you had best be a good boy and do as you’re told.”

I couldn’t quite believe my audacity. Did I actually just do that? I sat there, holding his palm against my sex, staring him down, daring him. My heart was beating a hundred times a minute with nervousness and excitement, and I felt something hot pooling down low in my belly. I might have been blushing and sweating a little, because I was pretty sure he could feel the dampness that I just knew had to be soaking through my panties. I didn’t back down, however.

The amusement and fire in his eyes gave way to uncertainty, and then curiosity. He didn’t answer right away, he just sat there, looking me in the eye. He didn’t move his fingers, he just kept his palm still against me, and the heat between us grew nearly unbearable. If he didn’t break soon, then I would.

He broke.

He took a deep breath before speaking, opened his mouth, paused, closed it again, then finally spoke.

“You make a highly convincing argument, little sub, but I am only going along with this because it pleases me to do so, and because it pleases me to please you.”

He stood up, holding me so I didn’t dump onto the floor, then releasing me. I stared up at him with a confidence in my gaze that I didn’t yet feel in my heart.

“What’s your safeword?” I asked him.

“Oh, I don’t think I’m going to need a safeword, do you?”

“You just delivered a fine-sounding lecture about how a submissive retains the ultimate power, but only because he has a safeword. You’re the submissive now, and I’m your Domme, even if only for a few minutes. Do you really wish me to have that much absolute power over you? Because if so, I’m fine with that, but don’t come crying to me when you can’t handle what I dish out.”

His eyes danced with amusement. Of course he thought he was just humoring me.

“Very well. My safeword is obstinate, as in you’re an obstinate little sub who seems to like getting her own way.”

I smiled and followed him back over to the bench where, minutes earlier, he had me tied down and wondering what on earth had gotten into me. He kneeled and bent over the horse, looking just a little uncertain about it once he was in that position. Admittedly, being a big guy, he looked a little funny like that, but I thoroughly enjoyed the sight. I patted his ass affectionately, noticing how firm it felt through his blue jeans.

“Hmm, I think these are going to need to come off. After all, fair is only fair.”

His head whipped around, looking over his shoulder at me. “Oh no, I don’t think so. Don’t you think this is enough?”

“You have a safeword if you don’t like it. Otherwise, boy, I’m calling the shots.”

He scowled, thinking about it, then after a moment reaching to unbuckle his belt.

“Ah-ah. Keep your hands on the bench in front of you, unless you want me to tie them. I’ll take care of that.”

He pulled his hand away, leaning fully over the bench. I stood close behind him, leaning over him so I could get my arms around his hips, and took the belt buckle in my hands. As I undid it, and unbuttoned the fly of his 501s, I was hyper-aware of the closeness of his incredibly sexy ass to my hips. I think I even unconsciously pressed against him a bit. Well, maybe not all that unconsciously. I needed to get this lust under control if I wanted to do this right.

Very carefully I avoided touching him more than I needed to as I slid the jeans over his hips and down around his knees. Well, it seemed our oh-so-dominant Nicholas liked to go commando. I shouldn’t have been surprised. I took a deep breath, feeling almost a little light-headed, looking at that bared male vision before me. No flabbiness on this man, that was for sure. His glutes and quads bespoke a man who either spent much time in the gym, or a lot of time on his feet, using his legs. I bit my bottom lip and reminded myself of my task.

I stood up and knelt one knee on the bench beside Nicholas, leaning down to speak into his ear with one hand on his back.

“Are you ready, not-so-little sub?”

He hung his head, took a deep breath, then replied. “Yes, Mistress.”

Ooh, I liked the sound of that. A little thrill ran through me when he said that. Deeply satisfied, I ran my hand down his back, caressing him, until I felt his shirt end and his bare skin lay under my palm. I pulled his shirt-tail up out of the way, letting it bunch up around his waist, and following the cue from when our positions had been reversed, rubbed his right cheek in a circular motion, preparing him.

“How many spanks do you think you deserve, my sub?”

“As many as Mistress deems appropriate.”

“Good boy.”

I spanked him.

He barely flinched, but oh wow, my palm stung. I ignored the pain, rubbed his cheek, and then spanked the left one. Again, I really felt that in my hand, while he hardly seemed to notice. I didn’t even see much redness on his bottom, just the barest impression. I gave him two more swats, one to each cheek, in fairly quick succession, and then I had to stop.

My hand was on fire. Something was not right in this scenario.

I stood there a minute, shaking out my wrist, until I noticed him looking over his shoulder back at me, a gleam of laughter in his eye.

“Is something wrong, Mistress? Have we begun yet?”

Olivia Finds Her Hot Button

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[This is the fourth excerpt from my work-in-progress novel, tentatively titled Switch. Before continuing, you may want to go back and see the earlier excerpts at In Which We Meet Olivia and Say Goodbye to Paul, Second Chances, and Second Chances (continued). After a disastrous attempt at figuring out if she’s into kinkier things with an ex-boyfriend, Olivia visits a local club that offers lessons. There she meets one of the instructors and is more than intrigued by the contrast he offers to her ex, but his calm detachment and polite refusal of her advances confuses her. In this scene, she has returned to the club for a second visit and decided to join, only to find a class has just finished (always a day late, that’s our Olivia).]

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Nicholas noticed me looking around and leaned down to whisper in my ear, “Would you like to see some of what we were doing in class?”

Again, my heart caught in my throat. What had they been doing in class? Something about rope-work. Well, my imagination could run wild with that. Obviously somebody was getting tied up, or tied down, or something.

“Yes, please.”

He waited. I just looked at him quizzically. Finally, he said, “Yes, please,…?”

I was thoroughly confused, and that must have shown on my face. He relented and said “Yes, please, Sir.”

Oh.

Right. That. I had so much to learn.

He was still looking at me expectantly.

“Yes, please, Sir,” I said.

He grinned. “I think that’s another five swats added to your punishment, wouldn’t you agree?”

Ok, now we were talking! He could take me from aggravated to confused to relieved to absolutely drop-dead hot in a matter of moments.

“My my, little Olivia, I do think we’ve found a hot button for you. Do you even realize how much your whole demeanor changed when I mentioned swatting you and punishment?”

Was my heart ever going to slow down to a normal pace again? He leaned down close and whispered in my ear, “I’m going to spank you.”

I’m fairly sure I squeaked.

Switch: Second Chances (continued)

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[This is the third excerpt from Switch. If you haven’t been following along, I recommend reading the earlier segments: In Which We Meet Olivia and Say Goodbye to Paul and Second Chances.]

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Paul still looked a little uncertain, but he didn’t think about it too long. He started pulling off his shirt, perhaps a little too eagerly, as he got himself stuck with his arms bound up in it behind his back. For a moment I thought of keeping him there, like that, and I had a brief frisson of excitement race through me, from a point between my breasts right down between my legs. The moment passed, however, and I just giggled a bit, turning away and climbing up onto the bed. I reached over to the nightstand and pulled out the handcuffs.

Paul’s eyes fairly goggled when he saw them, and he stopped in his tracks.

“Um, what’s up with those?”

I grinned over my shoulder at him as I threaded them through the slats in the headboard.

“An idea I had. Come on.”

He seemed really uncertain about it all, as I put first one wrist in a cuff, snapping it closed, and then my other. When that second one clicked into place, it passed quickly through my mind, What the hell am I doing? I didn’t let that stop me, however. Facing him again over my shoulder, my upturned ass in the air as I kneeled on the bed, resting my elbows on the pillows, I smiled, not at all as sure of myself as I tried to sound.

“I want you to spank me.”

Poor Paul. Now he really had that deer in headlights look, his shirt hanging from one wrist, his fly unzipped, standing there in shock.

“Spank you?”

“Yes, that’s right, I want you to spank me. I told you I wanted to try something different. Come on, it’ll be fun. Anyway, it’s an experiment.”

“I don’t know, Olivia. I mean, what if I hurt you? Are you sure about this?”

I heaved an exasperated sigh.

“Paul, get your ass up here on this bed, and spank me!”

His eyes grew even wider, if that were possible, but he finally got himself fully untangled from his shirt, kicked off his shoes and, still wearing his half-unzipped pants, climbed up onto the bed behind me. I wiggled my bare derriere at him and giggled again, although inside my heart was pounding something fierce and I could feel the heat of a blush spreading across my face and chest. I tugged on the cuffs experimentally, and yes, they held, very securely.

He put a hand on one of my butt-cheeks, and I liked that, so I wiggled again to encourage him.

“What are the handcuffs for? And when did you get those? Did you have those before?”

“I just got them, and I don’t know, it’s just an idea I had. I thought it’d be fun. Now come on, get busy!”

He lifted his hand, hovered over me with it for a moment, then sort of softly whacked me.

“Harder!”

He smacked me again, very slightly harder this time, but still very tentative.

“Did that hurt? I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“Paul, I’m not a baby, and you barely tapped me. It’s supposed to sting a little, isn’t it? It’s a spanking. Come on, spank me harder.”

“Can’t we just make love like normal?”

I sighed. So far, this experiment was a bust.

“Paul, please, can we just try it?”

He hit me one more time, no harder than before. Nothing. I was not aroused. I wasn’t turned on. This wasn’t working for me.

“I’m sorry, Olivia, I just don’t know. I don’t think this is right.”

He climbed off the bed and stood there, looking at me. Obviously it wasn’t working for him, either. He zipped up his fly, stepped into his shoes, and picked up his shirt.

“I don’t think I can do this, Olivia. I’m sorry. I’ve gotta go.”

I stared open-mouthed at him in shock.

“Go? Now?”

“Yeah. Maybe you were right the other night at dinner. I mean about us not being right for each other. Anyway, see you around, perhaps, ok?”

And with that, he walked out of the room.

“Paul!”

I heard the front door shut behind him as he left the apartment.

“Paul, dammit!”

I rattled the cuffs. I looked over at the nightstand, at the closed top drawer. The drawer I’d gotten them from. The drawer where the key sat.

Now what the hell was I going to do?

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Partners and Crime (part 3)

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[This is the third segment in a continuing erotic short story. If you’re just coming across this story for the first time, you might wish to go back and read part one and part two first. You can also find the entire story listed under Categories… Short Stories in the sidebar to the right on the main page. If you’ve been following Eileen’s tale so far, well, things get decidedly… ahem… steamier in this installment. Therefore, it is not intended for readers under the age of 18. Not that you couldn’t see this coming from the earlier segments, I hope. 😉 ]

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The shower door shut behind me and I pushed Travers against the tiled wall. He’d said only one word since the cuffs went around his wrists, but his face told me all I really needed to know. Again I claimed his mouth, crushing his lips beneath my own, taking what I needed from him. My fingers fumbled with the buttons of his uniform shirt, acting with a will of their own, and then I pushed it off his shoulders, leaving it bunched around his wrists behind him.

The vest, though. This presented a little more challenge. Undaunted, I ripped at the velcro straps, freeing the front section from the rear, and pushed the heavy ballistic material up, but with Travers’ height I couldn’t quite get it over his head. He ducked to aid me, but I worried about dropping it on him and breaking his neck.

“Let me help you,” he whispered. He must have seen the doubt in my eyes. He half turned, presenting his locked wrists to me.

I looked him in the eye. We were already so far beyond the pale of acceptable behavior in the Department. Indecision nagged at me.

“We shouldn’t do this,” I muttered to myself. Travers is your partner, Eileen. Do you want to get fired? I pulled the key and with a metallic click freed his wrists.

If he heard me, he gave no sign. Freed from the cuffs, he quickly pulled the vest up over his head, hanging it with his undershirt and uniform blouse in one smooth motion from a towel hook. I hadn’t actually seen him without a shirt on before, and for a moment or two I lost myself in his smooth pecs and rippling abs. I could only hope my openmouthed surprise and naked desire wasn’t too obvious. I barely registered as he quickly relieved me of my own top, and then the sharp rip as he pulled the velcro straps on my ballistic vest brought me back to my senses.

“Wait,” I said, as my vest joined his, side by side on the hooks.

“Not yet,” I breathed as he lifted my arms and my sports bra went with the vest and uniform.

“I don’t think…” as he turned me to face the wall and pressed himself tightly up behind me,  his hands on my hips and his lips nuzzling against my neck.

“Don’t think, McConnell.” His breath was hot against my ear, and again that spicy aroma wafted over me.

Heat shot through my core, racing from his lips against my earlobe to his hands at my waist, and pooling low between my legs.

“Eileen,” I said. “Call me Eileen.”

I squirmed, needing some relief, and felt his clear arousal pressed against my backside. My worries melted in the heat of my need, and I pressed my cheek against the cool tile of the shower while his fingers undid my belt. I relished the smooth ceramic against my breasts, flattening my nipples, while my uniform trousers fell around my ankles.

“Black lace,” he said quietly, his fingertips sliding around the waistline of my panties. “I should have known there was a sensuous woman under that tough, professional exterior.”

I turned around in his arms, putting my back against the wall, laying my palms against the firm muscles of his chest and pushing. I took a deep breath, opening my mouth to speak, to object to his comment, and that’s when I realized he had completely divested himself of all his clothing. Whatever I had meant to say, it was gone. I couldn’t help myself; I looked down between us.

If his desire had been obvious before, it was almost painfully evident now. I struggled to imagine skin stretching so tight and wondered how he withstood it. His erection angled up and a little bit away from his body, slightly curved and pointed right at my belly, quivering gently from his deep breathing. A small drop of moisture glistened on the tip, and I could not help myself. I reached down and curled my fingers about the head, gently sliding my thumb through the smooth silky slickness.

Travers leaned his head back and groaned, closing his eyes. His entire body went rigid, and I swear, he got even harder in my hand, though I couldn’t see how that was possible. His large hands slid up my waist to grip me under my armpits, cupping the sides of my breasts with the heels of his palms. He moved his thumbs to my nipples, already pebble hard, sending jolts of sensation arcing through my body. I sucked in a sharp breath through my teeth.

Get a grip, Eileen, I told myself. You’re losing control of the situation.

I reached up with my free hand and gripped the back of Travers’ head. The short spikiness of his close-cropped hair was almost electric against my palm. All of my senses seemed to be on hyperdrive, threatening to overwhelm me, yet still I pulled down on his head and brought his face to my breast.

Travers sucked my nipple between his teeth and laved it with his tongue. I moaned aloud, and that’s when the door to the locker room opened and Waters and Clark walked in.

The shower stall door was shut, but it would be immediately obvious someone was in here. Did they hear my moan? Would they look under the stall door and see four legs instead of two? No, why would they do that? But they might easily see Travers over the top of the door; he was a tall guy.

I reached beside me and turned on the water, drenching us both instantly. Of course the water was frigidly cold and my skin prickled with goosebumps, but that was the least of my worries. I put both hands on top of Travers’ head and pushed him down to his knees. He started to yelp when the water hit him, so I pulled his face in tight against me, muffling his mouth against my lace panties.

“McConnell, you ok in there?”

Travers wrapped his arms around my legs, his broad hands gripping my ass, and nuzzled me through the black lace material. I struggled to maintain calm in my voice.

“Yeah… yes, fine, just, uh, dropped the soap.”

I heard a snicker, Waters I thought, but I couldn’t be sure.

“Careful, McConnell. You never know what might happen when you bend over to pick it up.”

Waters was always trying to one-up the guys on the squad with how crass she could be, and Clark took her cues from her partner. I looked down at Travers. He hooked his fingertips in the waist of my panties, which would have been sopping wet even if the shower wasn’t running. He seemed oblivious to all else, and I was rapidly losing control again.

“Ha, funny! Yeah, I’ll be careful, all right.”

I gripped the short hairs of Travers’ head tightly. I had a very good idea what would happen if I bent over.

<To be continued>

Partners and Crime (part 2)

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I kneeled there on Travers’ back, leaning in close to his ear, listening to him breathe, for perhaps longer than was absolutely necessary. My knee wasn’t digging into him that much, on account of the vest under his uniform shirt; it was my grip on his cuffed wrists that really held him down. I noticed a bead of sweat rolling across his temple and sliding down his brow to the roughly carpeted floor beneath his face. No doubt he was getting a little hot under that vest; I was feeling warm myself. Bullet-resistant vests aren’t exactly known for cool and breezy wearing.

All the fight seemed to have gone out of him, which didn’t fit his normal pattern, but I accepted it and pulled back off of him. I stood up, pulling him up with me, keeping a close grip on his upper arm just like I would any perp in cuffs.

I had spent a lot of time with Travers. We had been partners for about six months, which meant for the past six months I had been in his company pretty much more than any other human being. Yet still, we had never stood this close before. Frankly, I had never found him very attractive, despite his definite good looks, because he had always been such an emotional turn-off.

Now, however, something was different. He didn’t look so cocky. In fact, he almost looked vulnerable, though that was probably the shock of having been taken down so unsuspecting. Regardless, it was appealing in an odd sort of way. Perhaps it was the cuffs. Anyone looks vulnerable with their hands cuffed behind their back.

I had made my point. It was time to take off the cuffs and figure out a way to undo the awkwardness. It was time to step away, but I found I didn’t want to, not just yet. I stood by his shoulder, hand on his arm, looking up due to his taller height, and just absorbed the sense of power I felt, having this man, this police officer, my partner, under my control. As long as the cuffs were still on, he was helpless and dependent upon me, and I just soaked that up.

His nostrils widened, his breathing grew deeper and quicker, and still a bead of sweat rolled off his brow. He looked me in the eye, then cast his eyes downward, and in that moment we both knew who would be the alpha in this arrangement from now on. I didn’t want this moment to end, it was so heady.

Just then I heard voices from the hallway outside approaching. Female voices. Apparently I was wrong about who was on shift that afternoon, because in about five seconds Waters and Clark were going to come through the door and find us here, and I wasn’t sure just how I would explain not only why a male officer was in the women’s locker room, but also why he was in cuffs. Travers had heard them too, his head jerking up, turning to face the door.

I didn’t waste time thinking about it. I tugged his arm roughly, causing him to instinctively follow, and pulled him into the showers. Not a moment too soon, either, as Waters and Clark entered the locker room, still chatting about their shift.

“Did you see the look on that goon’s face when I pulled the cuffs? All macho, hey I’m the big guy, and bam! Totally deflated, meek as a puppy.”

Sounded like Waters made a collar today. Good for her!

“Yeah, they’re all spit and bluster until they realize it’s going down, then suddenly shit gets serious and they’re not so tough anymore.”

Clearly they were still on their post-arrest high. I grinned at macho Travers, all meek in my cuffs now. He started to get that look on his face, and I just put a finger to his lips. His eyes snapped right back to mine, his breathing still heavy, but he kept quiet. Once again I saw it — resignation, acceptance, vulnerability — and a surge of… something… washed through me. I felt that old tingle, low in my belly, one I hadn’t felt for a while, and my vest began to feel too tight. Oh hell no, no, but damned if I wasn’t getting aroused.

This was bad news. Travers was my partner. I didn’t even like the man.

I stood there a moment, my finger still to his lips, and he didn’t pull away. He just kept his gaze on mine, a hint of a question, uncertainty, in his eyes, and perhaps a touch of heat, but none of his usual bluster. This wasn’t his male posturing, flirting with the girls. All of that seemed to have dropped away, and what remained was… was that desire I saw in his face? Could he really be turned on by this, being told what to do by me?

Too much introspection, Eileen. I slid my finger down his lips, traced his neck from chin to collarbone, then gripped the material of his uniform shirt and pulled his face down closer to mine. I kissed him, hard, on his lips, unrelenting, claiming. Again I saw surprise, but he didn’t resist. I watched his eyes, gauging his reaction, trying to understand his headspace, but I really didn’t even understand my own. I just enjoyed the kiss, took what I needed from it. His lips parted slightly, opening himself to me, and I tasted mint, and a hint of spice, and I wanted more. That was probably his Pad Thai lunch and a candy from the bowl by the cash register, but it didn’t matter, I drank him in.

Dimly I could still hear Waters and Clark just outside. A locker door clanged, and a part of me wondered if they would feel the need to shower. Just go home, shower at home, I thought, and then I realized I was even more aroused. No, this couldn’t happen! If they came in here right now, both our careers would be jeopardized. But the thrill…

With a gasping breath I broke off the kiss, but I didn’t step away. God, how I hated these vests just now! Travers looked momentarily lost, and I realized just how into that kiss he had been. I searched his eyes, with an ear to what was happening just beyond the door, and then I gripped his arm again and pulled him into a shower stall, closing the door. He didn’t resist at all.

And he was still wearing my cuffs.

<to be continued>

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Partners and Crime (part 1)

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“I got this,” I said, as Travers grabbed the perp’s other arm and started muscling him into the station house.

“You sure, McConnell? He’s kind of a big guy.”

I felt the familiar twinge of annoyance but suppressed it in the interests of professionalism. Why did Travers have to keep proving himself to me? Or was it to the others on the squad? Did he really think I couldn’t handle one tall but scrawny pimp in handcuffs whose probable idea of a workout was standing on the street corner watching his girls work the street?

“Yeah, I’m sure. Now go get the paperwork started, would you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he responded with just a bit of a smirk and dropped his hold on the perp.

I really needed to do something about this attitude. It was bad enough to have my squad mates wonder if I was up to the job of the downtown beat, but I really didn’t need my partner undermining my authority in front of the street punks we dealt with daily. When that happens, someone usually gets hurt, and I can tell you straight up, it wouldn’t be me. If a perp won’t back down because he thinks a female officer can’t handle him or will be intimidated, then things escalate and get dangerous in a hurry, and then it’s up to me to control the situation with whatever means necessary. Yeah, it was time for a little talk with Travers.

I got the perp to the booking desk, where at least Travers had got things started, and before too long we were done and headed to the back of the station for the end of our shift. I knew there wouldn’t likely be any other female officers nearby at this time, so with a quick glance to be sure no one was paying attention, I took a firm grip on Travers’ arm and pulled him into the women’s locker room.

He’s not that small of a guy, and he’s a cop, like me, so this depended on speed and surprise to pull off. That’s one of the benefits of being a woman in a physically demanding job: we know the limits of our strength and use our brains more than our brawn to get things done. The men were always overestimating themselves and getting hurt, straining muscles or their backs. I knew I couldn’t manhandle Travers into the locker room if he dug his heels in, so I had to catch him with his guard down.

It actually went easier than I expected. His mouth opened in surprise and he didn’t resist at all. Then he got that cocky grin on his face, and it didn’t take a degree in criminal psychology to predict what was coming next.

“McConnell, and here I thought you were the Ice Queen, yet all this time you’ve been wanting a piece of a real man.”

Oh, please. Yeah, he was easy on the eyes, but if he really thought I’d fall just for a trim physique with strong muscles and good grooming, he was deluding himself. Though, I had to admit, he really did take good care of himself, and it showed, even if the bulky vests we wore hid most of it. It had been a while…

Snap out of it, Eileen! Task at hand, girl! I pushed those unwelcome thoughts back down where they belonged, and then I pushed Travers against the lockers with a metallic clang, slamming against him, bullet-proof vest to bullet-proof vest. For just a moment I saw shock in his eyes, and a hint of uncertainty, and it emboldened me.

“Listen up, Travers, and listen up good. If I want a real man, I’ll find one. I don’t need that crap here at the station or on the beat. What I do need from you is a little more respect. I’ve been on the force long enough to know my way around, and we’ve been partners long enough for you to know that I carry my own weight. I don’t need you or any other man here to do my job for me, do you understand?”

“Whoa, McConnell, lighten up, I was just being friendly. I thought…”

“Do you understand? It’s a simple question.”

“Hey, babe, why’d you drag me in here, then? If you wanna get rough…”

I’d had enough. Before he could get another word out, I had a leg behind his and levered him around and down to the ground, pulling his arm behind his back as I followed him with a knee against his back. Before he finished gasping out the breath knocked out of him, I had drawn my cuffs and snapped one to his wrist, then I grabbed his other wrist and that was that. He was down and cuffed on the floor. I pushed up on his forearms, forcing his elbows wide, and leaned down close to his ear.

“Don’t you ever ‘hey babe’ me again, Travers, is that clear?”

He was either in shock or winded, because he had a funny look on his face and he only nodded.

“I think it’s time you understood the way things are going to be from now on. I’m not your ‘woman partner,’ I’m not a little girl who needs your help, and I’m not your Ice Queen either. I’m an officer of the law, and a damn good one, and as long as you are working with me… I’m going to call the shots. Is that clear?”

I felt a trickle of perspiration sliding down my skin under the bulky vest, and I was breathing a little more heavily than I should have been for such a quick takedown. I felt something coming off Travers that I couldn’t quite define. Not shock, not anger, but something else. Acquiescence. He wasn’t fighting me. A sense of power surged through me, and for the first time I couldn’t quite believe that I had just done this, taken down and cuffed a fellow officer, my partner. I stayed like that, laying across his back with my lips close to his ear, longer than really necessary to get my message across.

“Is that clear?” I asked again in a low voice directly into his ear. He took a long, deep breath.

“Yes,” he whispered.

This was almost too easy. I should’ve done this a long time before. That quickly, the man had become putty in my hands.

And I liked it.

<to be continued>

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Second Chances

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That evening, Paul arrived, flowers in hand, scrubbed and clean. Clearly he was going the extra mile. I told you he was a nice guy.

I met him at the door to my apartment, and as we stood there in the doorway awkwardly, I had a serious moment of doubt. What was he going to think of me? Oh well, he was here now, so I had better at least let him in. Maybe I could just pour some wine and drop the whole idea, just spend a relaxing evening, watching a movie or something.

No, that wasn’t going to work. The basic problem still existed, still needed to be solved, and besides, I had dumped this guy once already. Either we tried something different or the whole exercise was pointless. Going on as we did before was not an option for me.

Well, the wine was still a good idea. I was pretty nervous.

“Hi.”

He smiled broadly. “Hi. I, um, brought you these.” He handed me the flowers. I smiled and opened the door wider, ushering him into the living room of my tiny Queen Anne apartment. I nodded over at the bottle on the dining table.

“Pour us each a glass while I get these into some water.”

I pulled a vase out of a kitchen cabinet, filled it with water, cut the ends of the stems, and put the flowers into the vase. When I turned around, Paul had gotten the cork out of the pinot noir and was just pouring the second glass.

“We should let these breathe a little first,” he said.

I picked up one of the glasses and took a healthy swig. Paul just looked at me.

“What? The rest of it will breathe. I needed that now.”

“Are you ok, Olivia?”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, you just seem a little edgy.”

I took a second drink from my glass and looked him in the eye. How the hell was I supposed to do this? Well, only one way to find out if it was going to work.

“Come with me,” I said, then pointed at the bottle. “And bring that.”

Paul picked up the bottle and followed me into the bedroom. Now he was drinking from his glass, too.

“Um, Olivia? Are we even going to talk about, you know, the other night?”

I couldn’t quite meet his eye, so I just started unbuttoning my blouse. His eyes went wide and he opened his mouth but no further words came out. Having sort of thought this through earlier, although whatever plan I’d had was already shot to hell, I wasn’t wearing a bra. When I got the last button undone, I hesitated a moment, though why was beyond me. I mean, it wasn’t like we hadn’t already done it. He had definitely seen me naked before. Why was I so nervous now?

Before I could back out of it, I pulled the blouse open wide and slipped it off my shoulders. Paul’s gaze was firmly on my breasts now, the wine bottle in one hand and glass in the other all but forgotten. I blushed again, the heat spreading across the tops of my breasts, up my neck and onto my face, but I don’t think he even noticed. Moving quickly, nothing especially seductive about it, I shimmied out of my skirt and tugged my panties down. I stepped out of my heels, which frankly I had only put on for greeting him — I don’t usually bother wearing shoes inside the apartment — and stood there before him, naked as the day I was born, blushing even brighter red.

He didn’t say anything. His mouth was still open, and I wasn’t sure if he was shocked or excited. He was definitely surprised. I reached for my glass again and finished it off, then took the bottle from him, refilled my glass, and set the bottle on the nightstand.

“Well?” I said. “Are you just going to stand there?”

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Romantic Conflict

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I think it may have been Tolkien who wrote “Adventure is something nasty happening to someone else far away,” though admittedly I am having trouble sourcing this quote today.

As an aside, I did find a similar quote attributed to David Niven: “Adventure. Ah yes. That’s someone else having a very rough go of it very far away. My idea of adventure is carrying a pint of bitters from one smoke-filled room to the next.” (http://www.baenebooks.com/chapters/0743498747/0743498747___6.htm)

Of course, what either of these quotes implies is that while we enjoy reading about adventure (or watching it on film), it may not be something we necessarily want to have happen to us. For all the interest in adventure tourism, or active sports and pastimes, true adventure implies an element of peril not sought for its own sake, but rather risked or endured, perhaps unwillingly, on the way to something else far more desirable.

In other words, adventure is conflict. Most of us seek to reduce conflict in our own lives, but in fiction, without conflict there isn’t much of a story. A group of characters sitting around having the time of their lives may sound like a lot of fun, but it isn’t very interesting to read about.

That means our protagonist is that someone else, and for the story to be interesting, she must have a very rough go of it. Nasty things must befall her, and then she must overcome them, gain strength through adversity, and return to her ordinary world wiser than before, having won the grand prize.

Herein lies the author’s conflict. We spend so much time with our protagonists, our main or lead characters, our heroes and heroines, that it is easy to identify with them. They are the children of our imagination. We grow to love them as we love ourselves, or as we love our best friends, and who would wish nastiness upon their best friend?

Yet we must, for the sake of the other children of our imagination, the stories themselves. We must array armies of conflict against our heroine, in all their serried ranks, and she must lose at least a few battles — though she can win one now and then, too — before ultimately emerging victorious. It’s painful to do, but our heroine must suffer — for the sake of art, of course.

So what does conflict look like in a romance, then? No one is swinging swords at our heroine (unless, perhaps, we are writing a paranormal fantasy romance), nor shooting bullets at her (or are we writing romantic suspense?). The grand prize she seeks, though she may not know it at first, is love. The barriers she must overcome on her quest for this prize are emotional more than physical.

There will be external conflict. She is not the only one seeking the hero’s heart.  She has a rival, one who may stop at nothing to steal the hero away from her. Perhaps her family, or the hero’s family, or workplace rules or societal politics, dictate that they should not be together. Perhaps the hero is, at first, simply uninterested, or he lives in a different world, moves in different circles, such that their paths would not cross in the normal state of affairs.

There will also be internal conflict. The heroine, or hero, or both, may have been hurt before, such that they now avoid entanglements, or they may inwardly consider themselves somehow unworthy of love, or of each other, not realizing at first how far from the truth this sentiment may be. The heroine will harbor some dark secret, some shadow from her past that she has struggled — and failed — to overcome, and just when things finally seem to be on a perfect trajectory, it will rear its ugly head to dash all hopes.

Naturally, she will ultimately triumph, defeating her inner demons and outer rivals, and win the hero’s heart for all eternity, as classic romantic tropes dictate, living happily ever after.

Or will she?

Romance is full of conflict, and in this we find a truth for both fiction and reality.