In which I break with tradition in a spectacularly vulgar manner.
In trying to choose an excerpt from DIRTY SHAME (for sale later this month at Amber Quill Press) to post here, it occurred to me that most -- if not all -- sex scene excerpts I see posted with the intention of promoting a given piece of writing focus on the female point of view. Certainly, up to this point every excerpt I'VE ever posted has been from the perspective of the heroine.
Today I will break with tradition. Without further ado, I give you... *insert drumroll* ...the "airplane hummer scene" from Chapter 6 of DIRTY SHAME, starring Dare Daniels and Josephine "Joey" Fiorello.
* * *
Joey opened the door, pulled him into the tiny cubicle, and reached around him to shove the lock into place. “Did anyone notice?”
“Of course not. Why would anyone pay attention to the guy with the beer-stained tent in his pants following the girl into the restroom?”
She glanced down and smiled. “We’ll have to do something about that. The tent part, I mean.”
“Whoa.” He took her wrist in his hand as she reached for his belt. “You said this would be a mistake.”
“I also said we needed to clear the air and remove distractions.” She twisted her arm from his grasp and reached again for his buckle. He grabbed for her wrist a second time, mostly because things were moving way too fast. But also because she was taking charge. Again. And maybe it was his turn.
“Slow down and let’s talk about this a second,” he said and instantly wanted to rip his own tongue out. Sex on a crowded plane had always been a serious, top-of-the-list fantasy for him, and here he was working overtime to prevent it. Why, exactly? Because he didn’t want her to think she was obligated? Because he wanted to respect her? Because he wanted her to respect him?
The plane hit a pocket of turbulence, throwing them off balance. They fell hard against the door, make a loud, rattling thump. Dare froze with Joey’s face mashed into the middle of his chest, waiting for the inevitable.
“Is everything all right in there?” The flight attendant sounded annoyed.
He smothered his laughter in Joey’s hair as she answered for both of them. “Yes! We’re fine!”
She righted herself and glared at him. “Are you going to cooperate?”
“What’s in it for me?”
The glare evaporated and she smiled again, the tip of her tongue peeping between her teeth. “A little release of tension.” She made the words sound dirty, her lips shaping them so he could almost see each individual letter.
A trace of Brooklyn had crept into her voice. She’d said her accent popped up in moments of high stress. Interesting. Then she stretched up and stuck her tongue in his mouth. She tasted tangy, like cherry SweeTarts™, and he lost his train of thought.
“You smell like a brewery.” She whispered it against his lips as her hand found their way to his belt once more.
“I…uh…” Whatever he’d been about to say deteriorated into a grunt when she worked open his fly and slid her fingers home. Then she leaned her forehead against the center of his chest as she slipped his jeans and briefs over his hips and pulled his cock out into the cool, dry air. The pilot’s voice sounded overhead. “Ladies and gentlemen, we ask that you return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts, as we’ll be passing through some rough air on our way to touch down in Denver.”
Well, of course. This was God’s way of giving him another chance to do the right thing. Couldn’t get much clearer without a divine baseball bat to the head. “Joey? We have to go back to our seats.”
“Shut up. This is my show now.” She dropped to her knees, pressing him back against the door. “Hold still and try to be quiet. I’ll make this quick.”
She grasped the base of his cock and ran her finger up the length of him, stopping just short of the crown. He hissed between his teeth in reaction, feeling his balls pull up tight and firm. She wasn’t kidding about the “quick” part. Then her thumb slurred over the tip, slipping in the shiny moisture collecting in the slit, and he all but whimpered at the too-much-not-enough sensation. Heat pooled at the base of his spine like a storm threatening to erupt out of invisible clouds.
The plane hit another bump in the sky. Her fingers tightened, holding on, and when she stuck her tongue out to lick all around the rim of the crown, he let his head fall back against the door with a thud and closed his eyes. Behind his eyelids, the pervy part of his soul showed home movies of what Joey would look like with his dick between her lips. Not that he expected her to actually—oh, Jesus.
She’d just leaned in and enveloped him in the warm, wet heaven of her mouth when the pilot’s voice intruded again. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’re beginning our final descent into Denver. Please make sure your luggage is securely stowed, your seatbelts are fastened, and your tray-tables are in the upright and locked position. Flight attendants, prepare the cabin for arrival.”
The rap on the door came three seconds later. “Sir? Miss? You’ll need to return to your seats immediately.”
At the sound of the flight attendant’s voice, the private porn showing in his head faded. Speaking of upright and locked, he wasn’t looking forward to stuffing this particular boner back into his jeans, but those were the breaks. And yet—maybe not. Because Joey just sucked harder, using her hand to caress the part of his shaft she couldn’t fit into her mouth, her teeth scraping lightly against the underside in a way that made his toes curl inside his ridiculously expensive sneakers. He groaned loud and long over the whir of the overhead fan. Because the folks in the first three rows needed that extra clue to solve The Mystery of the Hummer in the First Class John.
* * *
Merlin, if you're still with us, that one was for you.
In other news, my dearest, bestest friend Barb Ferrer (writing as Caridad Ferrer in this instance) has been awarded the Bronze in the Young Adult division of The Florida Book Awards for her recent release ADIOS TO MY OLD LIFE. Kudos to you, baby. You should have had the Gold.
And as this is my second blog post in just a little over 24 hours -- a sure sign of the coming End Times -- I'll probably be scarce for a bit. Two deadlines creeping up fast. But I'll return around the official release date of DIRTY SHAME to run a little contest and give away a free ebook or two.
In the meantime, be nice to each other. For Britney's sake. Hasn't that girl suffered enough?
SelahMarch.com - Romance of Dubious Virtue
15Comments:
Merci bien Selah - that was delectable and reminds me of my experiences on flights to Rome, Budapest, Prague, Berlin, Marrakesh and Amsterdam.
Hugs,
M.
Ahhhh I love mile high experiences...and strange places. **adding this book to my birthday wish list**
Thank you, Merlin and Steamy. A little validation is a wonderous thing. ;)
Dude, they must have flagged you by now, no?
No. I use different airlines and I have a range of wigs and false beards.
Whether this is a "mile high" experience is debatable. I hate to be boringly technical but strictly speaking to be a mile high you have to be flying at 5,280 feet (I believe).Most flights over Europe cruise at 30,000 feet so no problem ; you're actually 5 miles high.
If the plane was coming in to land at Dallas,however, it would probably have been lower than that hence no "mile high". Not that Selah mentions the "mile high club" in her excerpt.
M.
Merlin makes an excellent point. The plane -- much like Dare in this scene -- IS coming in for landing (in Denver, not Dallas) so no mile-high club for them.
Although...what's the altitude in Denver, anyway?
5280 feet. And actually, the Denver airport has an altitude 5431 feet, so technically, they could be on the runway and still be members of the Mile High Club, unless of course, you're dealing with the people who think you're not technically a member of the Mile High Club unless the actual deed is being done.
I am Virgo, hear me pontificate. *g*
That's okay, Barb. I love Virgos.
I don't understand them, and they often make me think of all the various uses for a well-sharpened butcher knife....
But I do love them.
Yes, but I'm a GIRL Virgo. We've often discussed how there is a large difference between the GIRL Virgos and the BOY Virgos. Because BOY Virgos?
Right there with you on all the various uses for a well-sharpened butcher knife....
Isn't mom a virgo? I'm just sayin'........
No. My husband is a Virgo. My son is a Virgo. Our other sister's husband is also a Virgo. Consider the implications THERE, if you will.
Our mother is a Libra. Which, apparently, is an ENTIRELY DIFFERENT KIND OF BATSHIT-CRAZY.
Ahem.
*blows kisses to all other Libras who aren't my mother*
My daughter is a Virgo. I am a Libra.
I suspect this means I'm in deep shit right ?
M.
Incidentally - technically speaking again - I think the plane has to be off the ground to qualify for the mile high club regardless of the altitude of the airport.
I think it's entirely possible you're in deep shit, but I doubt it has much to do with your zodiac sign. :p
In my experience, female Virgos tend to be very hard on themselves. Male Virgos tend to be hard on others.
As for the Libra...my mother is a special case. VERY special. As in "Go peddle crazy somewhere else. We're all stocked up here."
And yes, you're right about the altitude thing. But a girl can dream.
Oh - no doubt about it. I'm usually in deep shit because that's about the only place I feel comfortable.
Reminds me of the Beach Boys ;
Reality, it's not for me and it makes me laugh,
Fantasy world and Disney girls - I'm coming back.
M.
Selah, aren't you an Aires? They don't get along with anyone! Just kidding sis! Love YA!
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