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Chapter One: Digging Deep

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January 17  |  Book Publications, eBooks, erotic romance  |   Kay Jaybee

DD ebook

Based (loosely!!!) on my own adventures as an archaeologist in searing hot Tunisia many years ago, this novella was immense fun to write. Here’s the first chapter of  my erotic romances, Digging Deep , as a special treat on a cold day …

Chapter One

Irritably adjusting her wide-brimmed hat for the third time in as many minutes, Dr Beth Andrews felt the sting of the African sun sear the back of her neck through the tresses of her long, ginger hair.

She never dreamt she’d miss the stubborn, muddy clay of the British earth she was used to hunting through in her search for archaeological data, but the uncooperatively fine white sand of North Africa was enough to try the patience of a saint.

Throwing down her brush in overheated exasperation, Beth thought fondly of her excavation trowel. Her tool of choice had quickly been rendered obsolete in the face of so much sand, and a job that was, by necessity, slow was reduced to a snail’s pace as the metre by metre square of the Ancient Roman bath house site in which she worked backfilled in on itself with every sweep of her light bristled brush.

It had been a dream come true for Beth when she’d been selected to lead the University of Wales’s excavation team, digging the sprawling Ancient Roman city of Lepti Major on the outskirts of Sousse in Tunisia. She had longed to experience new exotic sites and see new exotic sights. The chance to uncover stunning mosaics and city roads that hadn’t been trodden for 1000 years was an opportunity she’d had no intention of letting pass by.

olive groves

The fact she’d be sharing responsibility for the site with her archaeological hero, the unimaginatively named Dr Harrison Harris from Colorado, an American academic who’d been the subject of many of Beth’s private fantasies since she’d fallen in love with his work, not to mention the photograph of him on the back cover of his books, in her first year as a student, was neither here nor there.

Flicking her eyes covertly over towards Harrison, Beth averted her attention away from the slight increase in her pulse rate by recalling what the site’s previous supervisor had said about working in Africa’s extreme temperatures. “Scalding by day, and freezing by night”. Linda had warned Beth that her freckle-spotted, sensitive flesh would loathe being either fried or frozen just as much as her archaeological brain would relish the challenge of constructing a city from its remains.

Beth hated the fact that Linda had been right. She’d never been rendered so sweaty, not to mention so blotched with extra heat-induced freckles, in her life. There couldn’t have been a centimetre of her body that hadn’t got a fresh cluster of beige dots on it. After only a week under the sun, it was becoming a struggle to hold on to her generally calm approach to life, and Beth was finding that her temper, which rarely flared in the UK, was on a permanently short fuse.

What got to her most was that none of her colleagues seemed to be suffering at all. They were all happily tanning as they worked, and sleeping off their exhaustion with ease at night.

It hadn’t taken Beth more than a few hours of digging in the unshaded bath house on her first day to see that a survival technique was required to prevent the elements disrupting her professional judgement. She tried thinking about work, home, rain, and even walks in the snow as she worked, but only one thing successfully diverted her attention from the exposure of her unusually pale flesh to the elements, and that was to allow her mind to fill with erotic scenarios and fantasies, while her hands got on with the job in hand.

This specialised amusement had the benefit of taking her mind off the sun that managed to scald her back even through three layers of thin cotton, and had the added bonus of warming her at night. Lying on her thin camping mattress, Beth would recall all she’d pondered during the day, engendering an ardour between her thighs that her fingers deftly maximised, leaving her physically warmer and bodily sated, and thus making it easier for her to fall asleep.

At first, Beth had been determined that Harrison would not feature in her erotic musings. Her resolve had not lasted long, however, and although she did her best to make the men in her sexy survival scenarios anonymous, the American’s face crept in with increasing frequency.

Manoeuvring a layer of burning sand from one side of her section to the other, Beth considered her colleague. His reputation as an expert in Roman archaeology was renowned. Beth had never dreamt she’d ever meet him, let alone work with him as an equal. His knowledge and academic intellect had been enough to make her heart flutter for years. Yet what Harrison was like in reality was not at all how she’d assumed he’d be.

She’d envisaged him as being chatty, tall, slim, dark-haired, and weather-tanned. He’d probably wear glasses for reading, and be forever clad in T-shirts and large-pocketed shorts as he leapt around excavations like a gazelle.

In fact, she’d hardly heard Harrison’s distinct Colorado accent. He seemed to prefer his own company to that of the group. When he did talk to Beth, he called her “doll,” which made her feel like a lump of mass-produced, animated plastic.

Harrison was about 5 foot 7, not the 6 foot plus she’d pictured, and his spiked hair was a sun-kissed blond and not brown. His build was stocky and muscular, his bare arms and legs permanently gritted with granules of sand, and although he moved with a speed which would have been the envy of any gazelle, he managed to proceed around the site somehow without making a sound.

The problem is, Beth thought as she traced the outline of what she suspected might be a Roman drain gully, I built up an image of him based on a book cover’s black-and-white out of date headshot, and I was way off.

archaeology in sand

She’d been right about Harrison wearing knee-length shorts, though. Everyone on the dig wore such shorts, except for the stick thin, heavy-chested blonde on the American team, who might as well have been wearing knickers her shorts were so scanty. Beth sighed as she looked down at her own attire. A protective covering of baggy clothing shrouded her limbs, and her porcelain neck was hidden beneath spirals of her ginger hair, which glowed as if she’d been hit by radiation rather than African sunlight.

Ryan wasn’t helping either. The most charismatic of her students had been so enthusiastic on his first morning that he’d headed to the site before everybody else, without waiting for Beth to detail where to dig. Consequently, he’d powered through the ground in an alarmingly gung-ho manner, neglected the recording of each strata-graphic layer and, with his six-pack and biceps shining against 120 degrees of sunshine, had crashed his shovel into the corner of a mosaic that had been safely protected by the landscape for hundreds of years, breaking off half-a-dozen exquisitely coloured tessera cubes, and rendering one of the depicted Medusa’s snakes partially headless.

Beth had gone ballistic. To his credit, Ryan had been mortified. He’d begged her not to tell anyone. For the sake of the university’s reputation, not to mention her fear that Harrison would take one look at her careless student, assume she was no good at supervision, and send her home, she had agreed it would be their secret. Ever since, however, Ryan had been driving Beth mad with his attempts to make it up to her at every opportunity.

Only that morning he’d lent so close to Beth as he informed her he was going to make up for his blunder that his soft Welsh tones had vibrated against her skin. His manner was so blatantly suggestive that she hadn’t been able to prevent the inappropriate smile that had very briefly crossed her lips.

Picking up her dustpan and brush, Beth stroked away the grains of sand that sat between her and her judgement as to whether the lines being revealed were part of the bath house drainage system or not. Expertly tracing the changing colours in the freshly uncovered ground, Beth, confident that her theory was correct, and that the ancient shadows of the gully she could see could be followed across the ground with ease, readopted her technique to deviate her attention from the cruel climate, while her fingers worked the earth.

What exactly is Ryan offering? she wondered. A sneaky snog behind the equipment cupboard? A cooling down of my chest with his tongue? Or is he more ambitious than that? Does he imagine me naked, face down, spread-eagled over an empty wheelbarrow with his cock between my legs; or see us together in the shower, washing off the worst of the sand that seems to be permanently stuck to my body while he shoves his dick down my throat?

For goodness’ sake, woman! she chided herself. Beth was surprised to find her chest, whose generous size she’d always loved before, but now heartily wished was small enough to go without the extra layer of material her bra provided, was becoming taut. Cross with herself, she shook her hair out from beneath her hat, as if trying to dislodge the thoughts from her head. Having random erotic dreams might be the only thing that keeps you sane in this blast furnace – but you must not consider your students! Get a grip!

Briskly returning to the matter in hand, Beth cut through a layer of denser sand, wishing Ryan wasn’t working the section directly behind her. She daren’t turn to check he was all right like she did her other students. The last time she’d done so, she had caught him ogling her butt with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows, which couldn’t have been mistaken for anything other than the type of lustful intentions her own imagination had just so colourfully displayed to her. Ever since then, she had been more than a little self-conscious of the stretch of her cotton combats over her backside.

Crouching on her haunches, letting her eyes roam across the site as a whole, Beth struck Ryan from her mind, and began weighing up the significance of what she was excavating in relation to what else was opening up on the dig before her. As she leant in closer, a glitter of something just below the upper level of the sand caught her eye. Trailing her brush across the yellow surface, she mentally listed all the hidden things that might shine: mosaic tesserae, jewellery, votive offerings to the gods …

With a sharp scream, Beth stumbled backwards out of her square in a mad scramble to escape. Her find was none of the things archaeologists dream of uncovering. In the haste to get away, her left foot caught on the guide string that divided her metre section from the next. Tripping, she fell heavily backwards.

Flushed with an embarrassment that enflamed her already pinkened features, Beth found herself being scooped onto Ryan’s lap, his arms wrapped protectively around her.

Alerted by the unexpected shriek, the other students in the immediate vicinity began to gather round. Most of them, however, backed away the moment they saw what had caused Beth’s unusual lack of professionalism; except for the leggy American, who looked at Ryan in disgust, pointedly rolled her eyes at Beth, and returned to her work.

Beth didn’t have time to think about the blonde’s unsympathetic reaction. All her attention was on the bronze snake which hadn’t appreciated its home being disturbed by an inquisitive human. She was convinced it was staring straight at her, its tongue flicking, smelling the air around it in an accusatory manner.

Her initial shock subsiding, and abruptly sensible of where she was, and how it must appear to see one of the supervisors in the embrace of a student, Beth scrambled shakily to her feet. She wasn’t sure if she was more mortified by her public reaction to the snake, or by the fact that her body felt more than a little content at being cradled so protectively in Ryan’s arms so recently after her erotic ruminations had headed in his direction. ‘I’m sorry, everyone! That was a bit of a shock. I’m not good with snakes.’

‘Don’t worry about it, boss.’ Ryan ran a consoling hand down Beth’s cotton-covered arm, creating small prickles of uninvited lust that appeared on top of the prickles of fear already there, and sending them both tripping towards her crotch.

Rueing her kinky imagination, Beth took another step away from her student. Moving rather too fast, she collided with the stocky frame of Harrison Harris. He’d crossed the site on his ever-silent feet to see what all the fuss was about without her even noticing, causing Beth to jump out of her skin for a second time. ‘Honestly. Harrison, don’t you ever make a sound when you move?’

‘Hardly ever!’ He treated her to one of his Colorado smiles, making Beth suspect that he was privately laughing at her. ‘You OK, doll?’

Not stopping to waste her breath on asking him for the umpteenth time not to call her “doll”, Beth did her best to ignore the twinkle in Harrison’s eye that confirmed he found the situation hilarious, and settled for being grateful that he hadn’t vocalised his mirth in front of their charges.

‘I’m fine. The snake took me by surprise.’

Beth had no doubt this little episode would be site folklore by dinner time. She didn’t usually care about that sort of thing, and was always one of the first to laugh when she made a fool of herself, but now she found her face darkening with embarrassment in the face of her colleague.

‘Is that all?’ Harrison bent down and retrieved the brush Beth had abandoned in her hurry to move away from the snake. ‘You’re sure?’

‘I’m sure. Just shock. I don’t like snakes. I haven’t damaged anything, I hope.’

‘No harm done.’ Harrison shot Ryan a look which plainly said “this time”, making Beth wonder if the timing of the breaking of the mosaic had gone unnoticed after all. ‘Here you go, doll.’ He gestured to the creature. ‘He’s just a sand snake. Won’t do you any harm. I’ll move him somewhere safe.’

‘Thank you.’ Beth’s words came out rather weakly as the unfortunate creature was picked up and repositioned against a dune of previously excavated sand, into which it quickly disappeared. Seeing Harrison rehome the creature with no more fuss than if he’d moved a worm from a flower bed to a vegetable patch made Beth even more cross with herself for being so feeble in front of a man she’d so badly wanted to impress. She found herself babbling in explanation, ‘Insects I have no problem with. Spiders are cool. But snakes … I can’t stand them.’

This time Harrison did laugh openly, wiping one of his calloused palms across his forehead, smearing dirt into his spiky hair and knocking back his faded Stetson in the process. ‘You’re a regular Indiana Jones, doll!’

Indie

Keen to keep the general atmosphere light, Beth added, ‘Well. As long as I don’t get chased by any oversized boulders or attacked by a tribe of pygmies with blowpipes then I guess I can live with the comparison!’

Taking a hefty swig from her water bottle, she smiled, relieved that her ability to laugh at herself was finally reasserting itself after days of being diminished by the heat.

Harrison grinned as he strolled to his side of the dig. ‘Gotta love that dry English sense of humour, doll.’

Beth called after him, ‘Thanks for the snake removal, Harry.’

He kept walking as he corrected her. ‘Harrison. It’s Harrison, I told you. I don’t like being called Harry.’

She shouted at his retreating back, ‘And I don’t like being referred to as a doll. It makes me sound like a character in an American B-movie! Message received?’

Still laughing, Harrison didn’t look round, but held up a hand as if in defeat. ‘Gotcha, doll! Message received.’

Stepping back into her square, Beth looked at her watch. It wasn’t even ten o’clock in the morning, and the heat was already making it feel as if someone was systematically pouring paint stripper across her shoulders. She could hear her students chatting happily as they worked. All except for Ryan, who was unusually quiet.

Beth sighed as she recalled Harrison’s glare towards Ryan, and realised it wasn’t just her rationale she’d left in the colder climate of home, but her common sense as well. It was time to come clean about how Ryan had messed up the mosaic and, more importantly, why she hadn’t reported the incident straight away.

Her decision made, Beth’s hands returned to working the ground, while her imagination speculated how it might have felt if Harrison had been the one she’d accidently sat on. Would I have wanted to get up quite so quickly? Her pussy twitched as if in confirmation, as her green eyes studied the Roman drain …

Digging Deep is available as a download or a paperback from all good retailers, including-

Amazon US link- http://www.amazon.com/Digging-Deep-Xcite-Romance-ebook/dp/B00AY1J0OM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1357654446&sr=8-1&keywords=digging+deep+kay+jaybee

Amazon UK link- http://www.amazon.co.uk/Digging-Deep-Xcite-Romance-ebook/dp/B00AY1J0OM/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1357654789&sr=8-1

Happy reading!!

Kay xx

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Sexy Just Got Kinky: Tasters

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December 17  |  BDSM, Book Publications, eBooks, erotic romance  |   Kay Jaybee

On 6th December the drum rolls sounded for the launch of the third Brit Babes anthology.

Sexy Just Got Kinky is hot off the press- in more ways than one. This book has some scorchingly sexy stories between its pages.

Sexy Just Got Kinky

Blurb

Welcome to Sexy Just Got Kinky, the third instalment of the Brit Babes’ Sexy Just series. Tantalise your dark side with kinks to make you think. From lovers behind bars to lone ladies behind the lens—fisticuffs and feathers, lilos and lube, scissors and sticks, whips, canes and bondage, there’s sure to be a kink within these pages to whet your appetite, tickle your fancies and heat up cold nights.

As you’d expect from a Brit Babes anthology, there is something for all erotica lovers. Each of the eight of us has our own style and approach to the art, which means all bases are covered!

I have two stories in Sexy Just Got Kinky – one is an erotic romance based on the butt, and the other is a more traditional KJB tale, about the relationship between a slave and her master.

Here are a couple of extracts to tempt you with – both pieces are taken from the beginning of each of my stories.

Saddle Sore

“How many miles?” Leah took Luke’s bright yellow shirt, and threw it to one side.
“One hundred and forty-eight miles over two days.”
The masseur raised her eyebrows. “And yet you choose to cycle here the very next day? Your muscles can’t be that bad this time.”
“Actually, it’s the same day.” Luke gave Leah a half smile, “I came straight here. This is where the one hundred and forty-eight miles has delivered me.”
Her eyebrows rose higher. “You decided not to wait at all before you came here?”
“You told me I should come straight after my next ride so my calves didn’t foreshorten again.”
“This is true.” Leah moved towards the door which marked the gateway to her treatment room. She wasn’t ready for Luke to see how pleased she was that he’d arrived on her doorstep again.

saddle-sore-ahead
Hoping that his unexpected early evening appearance was because Luke couldn’t wait to see her again, Leah pointed to the screen in the corner. “If you could slip off your clothes. You can keep your shorts on if you want to, or you can wrap a towel around yourself.”
“I think I’ll lose them if that’s OK. The Lycra is feeling a bit personal at the moment, if you see what I mean.”
“I imagine the phrase hot and sweaty might also apply.”
“Sorry, it does. I should have thought. Would you like me to go home and shower first?”
It was the fractionally off key light laugh Luke gave as he spoke that told Leah she hadn’t misread the signs last time they’d met. Her pulse rate increased, but she managed to keep her voice sounding as professional as ever as she pointed to an adjoining room.
“There’s a shower through there. Why don’t you go and help yourself while I get things set up. You’re lucky my last client of the day cancelled, otherwise I’d have been sending you away.” Deliberately not looking at him, Leah asked, ‘Apart from your calves is there anywhere else that needs attention?’
“Oh yes.”
The unexpected gravel edge to his voice made Leah’s nipples push against the black cotton of her bra. “Really?”
“My butt is killing me in so many ways. You could say I’m saddle sore.”
“Go and shower. Don’t let the water get too hot. Then I’ll sort you out…”

finger-massage

***

The Questionnaire

Dear Slut,
I expect to find this questionnaire completed, and placed on the correction stool, ready for me to read on my return from work.
As you were not permitted to speak yesterday, you will answer these questions so I may learn more about your experience.
TELL ME THE TRUTH. I want details.
From, Keeper.

1. Tell me EXACTLY what you did to prepare for the task I set you yesterday.
From the minute you’d left me yesterday morning Keeper, having told me of your intentions for the afternoon, the hands of the clock seemed to move so slowly. Time always drags when you’re not here, but yesterday the images you’d planted in my head made every second last a lifetime.
I couldn’t get the thought of what was to come from my mind. You hadn’t forbidden me to satisfy myself, and so I did—I had to.
I used the glass dildo you bought me for Christmas. I didn’t even have to rub myself to make sure I was wet enough for it. The sound of your voice as the orders came down the telephone already had my knickers soaking—I was wearing the pale pink lace ones with the almost, but not quite, see-through front.

glass-dildo

I sighed far louder than you would have approved of as I pushed the dildo in. I was picturing your cock, Keeper. It’s so beautiful.
My eyes were closed as I played with myself. I could vividly see you pulling my ponytail back as, within my imagination, I crouched on all fours before you. I flushed with desire as you used my hair as a lever while you fucked me.
In reality, my right hand’s fingers danced over my nipples as I worked the dildo with the other. I am ashamed to say it didn’t take me long to come. And once I had, I was instantly aroused all over again. It was time to get ready to obey you…

***
The other stories by my fellow Babes are SO hot- I urge you to dive into a copy of Sexy Just Got Kinky to see for yourself!

Available from:

eBook:
Print:
***

Happy reading

Kay xxx

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Dinner With Tess: Domination and Submission in Take Control

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November 25  |  BDSM, eBooks, erotic romance  |   Kay Jaybee

Over recent years I have earned a reputation for writing punchy Fem Dom tales, such as The Perfect Submissive Trilogy and Yes Ma.am.

In Take Control however, it is the turn of the men to take the upper hand.

Sexy - hands on back

Blurb

Take Control: Stories of Male Domination/Female Submission is a collection of toe curlingly sexy tales of bondage and female submission from the pen of best selling writer Kay Jaybee. From a spankingly delicious Dinner With Tess, to a Staged public sex fantasy, an unforgettable alfresco hosing in Deluged, a kinky scientific Experiment, and the realisation of a long held threesome fantasy in The Necklace, Take Control offers five bite sized stories that will satisfy any lover quality erotica.

Take-Control-Cov-12014

 

Here’s an extract from Dinner With Tess

Tess risked a glance in the stranger’s direction. She felt her pulse quicken anxiously as he noticed her furtive look, and with slow purposeful movements, approached. When he told her his name was Jon, and that he was going to buy her a drink, Tess’s mouth hadn’t been able to find the words to say anything, so he’d simply gone and fetched one anyway.

From that moment, she had been ensnared, hypnotised by Jon’s strength, his quiet authority, and the promise of an undiscovered lust, which seemed to reflect back at her from his deep shining eyes.

Tess had spent the early part of the morning in the kitchen. This was to be the first time Jon introduced her to his friends, and Tess had suggested she cook for them. A roast chicken perhaps? Something warm and welcoming to greet them on their return from the photography club meeting they were attending. Jon had smiled his sexy smile and agreed that a trussed-up bird sounded exactly like something they’d all appreciate. Tess had been thrilled when he congratulated her idea by fucking her unceremoniously against the kitchen door.

She’d never met anyone like him before. Jon seemed consumed by lust, and, even though it had been almost a month since they’d met, Tess still found it hard to believe she was the centre of his attention.

As he was obviously a dominant man, she had been quickly awarded the role of submissive; and to her surprise, and perhaps aided by her natural reticence, had discovered that she rather liked being told how to behave, what to wear, and what to say.

Jon’s laughing voice echoed through the hallway and into the kitchen as Tess went to greet his friends. ‘Here she is!’ Jon’s arm swept around his girlfriend. ‘Tess, meet Jack and Ed, my friends from the club.’

denim-skirt

‘Hello.’ She spoke clearly, trying to cover her shyness. As she shook their hands, Tess couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable by the way they looked at her. It was as if they were assessing her in some way, and she suddenly felt very aware of the shortness of her denim skirt and the thinness of her white cotton blouse.

‘Most lovely.’ Jack nodded approvingly at Jon.

‘She’ll do well.’ Ed’s eyes x-rayed Tess as he spoke.

A private shiver shot up Tess’s spine. ‘Do well for what?…’

****

If you’d like to find out what happens to Tess, you can buy Take Control from all good e-retailers, including-

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00HYI8BHA http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00HYI8BHA

Happy reading,

Kay xx

 

 

 

 

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Kinking the Season: Donning That Little Red Dress

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November 22  |  BDSM, eBooks, erotic romance  |   Kay Jaybee

It’s that time of year again!! Up and down the country- whichever country that may be- men and women are laying down their laptops, putting aside their PC’s, closing their diaries, and switching on the answer machines so that they can head out on their ‘Work Christmas Do!’

Men will be pulling on a suit and worrying about just how ‘festive’ their tie should be, while the women stare at the contents of their wardrobes for hours, because they suddenly hate the outfit they’d got especially for the occasion, and desperately need to pick something else – or is that the sort of thing that only happens to me?

wardrobe

Anyway! I’ll get to the point!

The idea of the little black dress as the central point for an erotic story has always attracted me – and then I thought, maybe not black- maybe red… Once that idea took hold, I just had to write a story called, The Little Red Dress. Here’s an extract for you…

“…Deaf to Alice’s continued protests, Rachel had marched her friend by the elbow from the office to the only store still open. A single rack of party dresses remained left in stock.

Overriding Alice’s claim that the only one left available in her size would make her look like a hooker, with a blunt, ‘For heaven’s sake Alice, you’re thirty-one, not sixty-one! You have a great body—time to show it off a bit.’ Rachel picked up the dress and pushed Alice towards the checkout.

Without being allowed to try the startling scarlet dress on, Alice had found herself with a posh carrier bag in her hand, the cautious owner of a garment that was fashioned from about as much material as an oversized T-shirt.

Now, with her eyes still closed, Alice smoothed the red fabric into place. It clung to her body sensually with a curious warmth that caressed her everywhere it touched. Conversely, it also made her feel very naked everywhere it didn’t touch.

Its thin shoulder straps were pointless. They certainly weren’t required to hold the dress up. It was far too tight-fitting for that. Alice’s cleavage, which had always been generous, felt oddly cold and incredibly visible, although the dress supported her bra-free breasts as if by magic.

sexy-dress

The hemline only just reached the top of her thighs, and there was no way on earth she could wear either tights or stockings without them ruining the line of the dress, or being disturbingly, if not suggestively, obvious. Alice tried to close her mind to the fact that she had to go commando. She really didn’t want to think about that—yet her mind couldn’t stop thinking about it. She had never felt so unbelievably sexy in her life—and she hadn’t even seen herself in the mirror yet.

With a deep breath, trying to ignore the nerves of anxiety that swam in her stomach, Alice opened her eyes.

She gasped. That wasn’t really her—was it?

Her legs seemed longer and slimmer than she remembered. Although Alice had to admit that she didn’t actually look at them, or any part of her body, with any level of concentration unless she absolutely had to. Now she had no choice. She was all legs and bust.

Conscious of every inch of her body, Alice sucked her stomach in and gripped the hem of the dress, tugging it south. But the cost of covering an inch more leg was at the expense of exposing a greater depth of cleavage to the point where her nipples only just remained covered.

The thought that she was going out in public with the twin peril of either bending over and exposing her arse, or self-consciously fidgeting in her unaccustomed outfit and flashing her breasts to the world, filled Alice with an excitement and trepidation that prickled at her pussy, and made the skin of her neck behind her long chestnut hair dot with a perspiration which had nothing to do with being too hot. What are you thinking? You can’t go out like this! The voice of reason at the back of Alice’s head shouted at her reflection.

Alice glanced at her wristwatch. Rachel would arrive to collect her at any moment.

Briefly, she contemplated pretending that she was ill, or simply ignoring the ring of the doorbell when it came, but a new voice—a louder, more determined voice—began to sound in her mind. It was shouting at her. You look good. Sexy, even. Why not show those perfect people at work that you aren’t the boring plain old Alice they think you are? Why not do what Rachel says and show Gary what an idiot he was? Why not—just this once?

Alice had the strangest feeling her dress was talking to her.

Slipping the silver glitter-covered high heels she’d borrowed from Rachel onto her feet, Alice pushed her shoulders back and her chest out. Perhaps tonight she could get through the chuckled comments her work colleagues were bound to make about how they’d found the boss’s son last year, by pretending to be someone else entirely. Someone who always wore little red dresses…”

****

Christmas Kink

If you want to find out what happened to Alice in her new red dress at her office Christmas party, then you can find the rest of that story- and 5 others, in my Christmas Kink anthology.

 

***

Happy reading,

Kay xx

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Brick Dust: Best Women’s Erotica of the Year, Volume 2

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November 10  |  BDSM, Book Publications, eBooks, erotic romance, News  |   Kay Jaybee

On 17th December a brand new anthology is being published by Cleis Press, and I’m delighted to have story included within its sexy pages.

BWE2016 Vol2

Blurb

Best Women’s Erotica of the Year, Volume 2 gives us fierce female passion, timeless love, and lustful encounters that are guaranteed to fill you with utter delight. A celebration of women’s inherent sexiness, this anthology highlights tales of bold, incredible women who seek intimacy in their own way, from outright declarations to coy, playful, and arousing gameplay. There’s something for everyone is this collection of intelligent and provocative erotica.

My own story is entitled Brick Dust. You can read more about why I wrote it here- http://bestwomenseroticaoftheyear.tumblr.com/post/152946936542/author-interview-with-best-womens-erotica-of-the

brick-dust

You can pre-order your copy at a whole host of retail outlets – all details here.

Many thanks to Rachel Kramer Bussel for choosing my story to form a small part of this anthology.

Happy reading,

Kay xx

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