A couple of years ago, I had the great pleasure of reviewing The Pleasure Dial by Jeremy Edwards, the very first e-novel published by the erotic e-publishers, OC Press. Now The Pleasure Dial has undergone a revamp with 1001 Nights Press, has a gorgeous new cover- and deserves another review.
This rare thing, the comic e-novel, is set in the world of the 1930’s Hollywood- and it is a corker!
The year is 1934, and amiable New York gag writer Artie Plask has taken the West Coast plunge. His first day on staff with a top radio show introduces him to the irresistible Mariel Fenton, a wit among wits who immediately takes an interest in all aspects of Artie’s life—especially his private life. As Artie finds his feet in a world of blustering comedians, pansexual sex goddesses, timid screen legends, exhibitionistic scriptwriters, and self-infatuated geniuses, Mariel leads him on a zany journey up and down the pleasure dial—a giddy romp through Hollywood that’s chock-full of airwaves showdowns, writing-room counterplots, devious impersonations, naked meetings, and a sensuality-drenched assortment of erotic escapades.
The opening line of the book alone was enough to hook me- it is quite possibly the best opening line I have seen in any erotic story ,“Artie was looking up the skirt of his favourite Macy’s mannequin when he decided to head for the West Coast”… Inspired!
I smiled and giggled all the way through this romp – just as I did the first time I read it- as Mariel leads Artie on a kinky dance of yummy-ness through a glittering new world of both sexual and career fuelled possibilities.
Fear not however- the humour doesn’t detract from the sensuality of the piece- this tale is toasty!
I have permission from the lovely Jeremy Edwards himself, to share with you a snippet from The Pleasure Dial…and I guarantee it will whet your appetite for a truly enjoyable and sexy read…
‘…After the writing session broke up, Mariel continued typing. “We don’t want any loose ends,” she explained. “Do you mind waiting for me?”
“Not at all,” said Artie. “I have to change back into my street clothes anyway.”
“Would you mind waiting to do that, too? I can just see your long, lean torso out of the corner of my eye … and it’s motivating me to work faster.”
When she’d finally returned the portable typewriter to its case, Mariel’s eyes scoured the pool area. “Where’s my feather?” she asked.
“Oh!” said Artie. “Damn, I don’t know. I must have set it down somewhere when Heffy burst in.”
“I don’t see it.”
“No, neither do I. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry. I have a jewelry box full of them. Why don’t you go change, and we can get out of here.”
Once in the house, Artie took a wrong turn on his way to the bathroom where he’d left his clothes, accidentally heading toward the library instead. He was about to reverse course when he heard a compelling sound from beyond the closed library door: the sound of laughter—lazy, but undeniably sexual, female laughter.
Heeheeheehee … hmm-hmm … oh!-a-heeheeheehee …
He immediately visualized Mariel’s bountiful quill. This would account for its absence—someone was enjoying the gentle bliss of being tickled with it. Precisely where, he could only imagine.
Unless, of course, it was merely Elyse recalling her favorite bits from today’s script session.
HeeHEEh’heeeeee. Oh, yes, Howie, my pussy lips—the feather, the—ooh, yes yes, tickle my pussy, ti-iiiiiiiiiheeheeheehee …
Feather: check. Elyse: check. That was definitely her voice—and Artie thought she was doing a commendable job of improvising, playing a scene that had certainly not been in today’s script.
He automatically slipped a hand into a conveniently located swimsuit pocket.
“What program are we listening to?”
Mariel had tiptoed up behind him, and suddenly her arm was around his waist and her voice in his ear.
He cocked his head. She sidled around him so as to hear better, and he watched the smile broaden on her face as she became oriented to the content of the entertainment.
“Do you think it’s wrong of us to listen?” he whispered.
“Not where Elyse is concerned—and, by extension, anyone she consorts with. She’d love to know we were listening. In fact, I’ll make a note to tell her, later on.”
Her gaze drifted down to Artie’s swim trunks. “You got a head start on me, didn’t you?” She yanked Artie’s hand from the pocket, replacing it with her own—at the same time maneuvering her body behind him, to urge herself against the muscles of his buttocks. His bare feet shifted with lewd, silent ecstasy on the carpet runner.
I bet those lovely titties would like a little feathering too, mmm?
Howard’s voice, a flat monotone in the writing room, had a more liquid, insinuating quality under recreational circumstances.
Oooh-hee, ooh-HEEEE, yes-y-eeeeee … You’re gonna make me c-c—
“Oh, fuck, Artie, I can’t wait.” Mariel spun him around and wedged him up against the wall opposite the library. She’d found the rubber in his other bathing-suit pocket; Artie had decided from the first day in this environment that it would be convenient to keep them in each and every garment.
She sprang his cock out of the trunks with one hand while shoving her panties down with the other, nimbly stepping out of them while raising her skirt. Artie slapped her ass and pulled her tight against his chest, hoping to communicate with her nipples through blazer, blouse, and bra.
With the rubber in place, she was now struggling to mount him—Artie saw that she had not staged the scene felicitously, given their height difference. He loved her assertiveness, but she’d have to practically climb him like a tree to get her cunt around his cock. “Let’s switch places,” he advised.
“Mmmgh,” she agreed.
This was more like it. Mariel braced herself against the wall, while Artie bent at the knees and lifted her by her hot little ass-cheeks.
Though they’d been pacing this as a frenzied sprint, they slowed down as her lubricated flesh inched its way onto him, both parties devotedly silent while each discrete instant of sensation filtered from their junction through their pleasure-response systems.
“You feel as good as she sounds,” Artie whispered when the connection was complete, knowing Mariel would approve of the remark. Sure enough, the comparison seemed to further energize her blazing libido. Taking advantage of the wall at her back and the hands on her ass, she wrapped her legs around Artie’s thighs, steadied herself on his shoulders, and used every ounce of her strength to squeeze her horny cunt up and down his shaft—now bouncing, now lingering, fucking her bottom off while Elyse’s shrieks and giggles reverberated in the background.
A sustained alto wail from Mariel’s lips told Artie she was getting very close. Sure enough, her left hand disappeared from his shoulder and joined the party down south, claiming its mistress’s clit. With her weight fully supported by his arms and his dick ready to explode any second, Artie had an inspiration.
Relying on her rhythm for momentum, he took the few backward steps necessary to cross the hallway, then pivoted in midfuck. “Turn the doorknob,” he muttered urgently. Mariel complied instantly, streaking the knob with girl juice from her clitty finger.
Everything happened at once. The door swung open and Elyse, who was radiantly naked, screamed in climax, her eyes widening with extra delight as she registered her audience. Writhing on the library sofa, she extracted every atom of pleasure from the quill Howard held to her crotch, while Mariel pogo-sticked on Artie’s cock, her endless orgasmic moan almost as loud as the blonde goddess’s scream. Artie pumped and pumped inside the hug of Mariel’s thighs, his buttocks muscles working in double time and his hands holding her bottom cheeks with such passion that he felt her flesh moulding itself around his fingers.
I have deliberately not given away anything about the plot here- because I really don’t want to spoil your read- and read it you must!!
The Pleasure Dial is available directly from the 1001 NightsPress in paperback and as an eBook, as well as Amazon UK, US, and all other good Kindle, Nook, and PDF Download suppliers.