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Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters Day 13: Kay Jaybee

No trip into my erotica archive is complete without a taster from part of my best selling BDSM series, The Perfect Submissive Trilogy. 

For the penultimate day of my Tasty Tasters, I’ve decided to take you into the strange world of The Retreat, where life could be a fairy tale- or maybe not…This sequel to Book One in the trilogy (The Perfect Submissive), carries on from 6 months after we have left Miss Jess Sanders adjusting to her new life at the Fables Hotel…

The Retreat- New rope


Just as Jess is beginning to relax into her new life as a submissive at The Fables Hotel, her employer Mrs Peters announces that she is loaning both Jess, and her dominatrix Miss Sarah, to one of their most demanding clients; Mr David Proctor.

Whisked away by the mysterious Kane to The Retreat, hidden in a remote part of Scotland, Jess and Miss Sarah find themselves teaching another submissive to meet Proctor’s exacting rules.

As Jess comes to terms with the techniques of The Retreat Mistress, and the strictly overpowering dominatrix Lady Tia, she discovers that Proctor’s motives may not be all they seem.

Just who or what is Fairtasia? And why does Jess feel like she’s walked into a warped fairy tale?

In order to get back to The Fables, Jess is going to have to be more than just a perfect submissive…




‘Please Sir. Please! I won’t let you down.’

David Proctor peered at the woman crouched before him. The top of her head, haphazardly piled with blonde curls, was all he could see of her bowed face.

‘I can learn. I can.’ Her voice quivered with deep-seated yearning, ‘I’ll learn to be whoever you want me to be.’

The heated softness of her Scottish accent added a dimension to David’s arousal which he hadn’t expected. No stranger to the world of submission and domination, he’d never met anyone so keen to be subservient to him before.

With his ego growing almost as much as his cock, which nudged against the inside of his suit trousers, David hunkered down beside the girl. Her bare buttocks bore the pleasing marks of his palm. The fading prints were a blotched pink now, but they’d blazed red only moments ago, when he’d pinned her across his lap, spanking her backside again and again in punishment for her repeated disobedience. Or rather, for her failure to obey, despite her repeated efforts to please him.

The cook’s breasts, just over a handful in size, were dotted with freckles, and as he fondled them between his fingers, David’s mind seethed with images of all the things a willing slave could do for him.

Lifting her lowered head by the chin, David fixed his hazel eyes into her sapphire ones, ‘But you refuse to climax when I tell you to.’ His voice wasn’t angry, but it was hard. David Proctor was, and would always be, an unyielding business man. If there was nothing in any arrangement of long term benefit for him, it wouldn’t happen.

‘I want to though Sir. I really want to, I… Forgive me, but you make me hang on for so long before granting permission to come, and then I can’t. I am so sorry, I…’

‘SShhhh.’ David ran his fingers through the wisps of hair that had escaped her hooked up ponytail. There was no denying that she intrigued him. With each stroke of her wavy locks he thought.

The Retreat did need another submissive. And soon, if his business plans were to expand in the direction he intended. The man Fairtasia was sending to represent them was due any day now, and not long after that, their delegates would arrive.

‘Please Sir?’ The cooks pupils seemed impossibly wide as she held his eyes, and but for the occasional shiver of denied desire, her bare legs didn’t move against the stone kitchen floor, proving just how good her stamina was already. ‘Lady Tia could teach me.’

‘Tr…ain…ing.’ David spoke the thought slowly, as if to himself, mulling each letter over with his tongue, but the young woman leapt upon the word.

‘Training! Yes Sir! Dr Ewen says Lady Tia is the best dominatrix there is.’

‘She is indeed good, but…’ The Retreat’s new owner reached his hands back to the girl’s tits, and felt his cock stiffen further as her nipples pressed greedily against his skin, ‘I’m not sure Lady Tia’s field of expertise will be sufficient in this case. Spankings and beatings you can already take, and plainly enjoy.’

The girl re-dipped her face. She was obviously trying not to let her disappointment in her own shortcomings show. There was no doubt she was submissive material- and yet- not quite. Her deference to him however, and his urgent requirement for an additional member of staff, made David’s mind up for him.

‘I think it’s time I contacted a friend in England. I’m sure she’ll send us the help we need.’ Manipulating the cook’s chest with greater vigour, relishing the resulting gasp of pain tinged pleasure that flew from her lips; David’s round face gave a calculating smile.

His eyes had fallen upon the giant range in the centre of The Retreat’s antique kitchen. Then his gaze travelled to the table next to it. A huge old fashioned pottery jar of ginger powder, and another of brown sugar, sat awaiting the sidetracked cooks’ attention.

For weeks David had been contemplating how to impress the Fairtasia company delegation. He knew that the final securing of the contract he wanted from them so badly, would depend on the outcome of the party The Retreat was hosting for them in a month’s time.

In order for the head of Fairtasia to sign on the dotted line, and make their business arrangement official, the evening would have to be unforgettable. Now, as he looked about him, David knew precisely what theme that party was going to take. And how fitting it would be.


The cook jerked her head up hopefully at her employer’s use of her first name.

‘You may train to be The Retreat’s new submissive. Lady Tia can begin your lessons as you suggest.’ David unzipped the fly of his trousers. As he freed his dick, he had to suppress a laugh as the girl eyed it hungrily. ‘You may also address me as David. I don’t like Sir. I never have. Now suck me off.’

‘Yes David.’

‘Good girl.’ Extracting his mobile from his pocket, David tapped in a number as the cook’s velvet mouth engulfed him.

The sucking of Alisha’s lips and tongue working around his length was the only sound in the granite room, as David waited for his call to be picked up.

‘Ah, Fables Hotel? Could you put me through to Mrs Peters’ office please?… Not there?… Please tell her that Mr Proctor has a proposition for her; and that time is of the essence.’

Pocketing his mobile, David tangled his fingers into the cook’s increasingly messed up hair. Tilting his groin forward, admiring the way Alisha amended her position so she didn’t gag, but took him deeper, David asked, ‘Tell me, how much do you know about fairytales…?’


Well- if that has perked your curiosity- then you can buyThe Retreat from Xcite or Amazon in either paperback or e-book form via these links…

Amazon UK-  http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Retreat-Perfect-Submissive-Trilogy/dp/1909520810/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1376076208&sr=8-1&keywords=The+Retreat+kay+jaybee

Amazon .com http://www.amazon.com/The-Retreat-Perfect-Submissive-Trilogy/dp/1909520810/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1376076293&sr=8-1&keywords=The+Retreat+kay+jaybee


Sadly, we are almost at the end of this years Tasty Tasters! For the final day, I thought I’d take you back to where is all began for me…so I’ll see you tomorrow for a dip into The Collector. 

Happy Reading Everyone.

Kay xx



Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters Day 11: Victoria Blisse

It’s Day 11, and I’m joined by another of my brilliant Brit Babe friends today, the awesome Victoria Blisse. I believe she has secrets to share!

Over to you Victoria…

Secrets, we all have them, we all keep them for other people. I think it’s why fiction revolving around them prove so popular. We all know that it could all back fire, one slip of the tongue and that secret could be the talk of the town.

In Her Secret Past two people carry secret burdens and are brought together by a house filled with the results of decades of hoarding. Caught your Attention? Okay, well here’s the blurb:


A past she wants to forget, a secret that will change everything and a hunky guy who should have known better.

It’s no secret that Katrina Quinn has been caught having an affair with her hunky co-star. Hounded by the press she has escaped to Yorkshire, England and the remote seclusion of Copse Cottage. It’s a house packed full of junk and memories—far too much for one woman to handle.

For odd job man Ryan Taylor, being hired to clear clutter while ogling one of Hollywood’s hottest stars seems like easy money. A good way to escape his jealous, drunken girlfriend, Eve, who seems intent on making his life a misery. But Copse Cottage is haunted with his happy past, stirring anew his longing for the girl he used to call the best in the world.

A stolen beat-up suitcase is going to change everything—secrets will be revealed, hearts will be broken all over again and the biggest mystery of all will finally be answered.



“Oh, Janie”—Ryan leaned over the hand brake and covered my hand with his—“you’re so sweet. But surely by now you know I’m completely thick. I can’t go to university. I’m just going to end up working for Dad.”

“You… You… You… You’re not thick,” I stuttered, my body humming with his touch, my voice fighting to break through the earthquake of emotion. “You’re really bright. And good with your hands. I’ve still got the jewellery box you made me for my tenth birthday.”

“You still have that?” Ryan asked, eyes widening, mouth softening into a smile. His hand was still over mine, heating my fingers to boiling point.

“Sure, it’s beautiful. Actually, it’s in my bag now.”

He scrunched his eyebrows in confusion.

“I’m running away too.”

“No,” he exclaimed, “really? Why are you running away?”

“Maybe you are thick, Ry,” I scoffed gently. “Can’t you guess? My dad left us, my mum’s not been the same since and I’m the butt of everyone’s joke at school. I can’t take all that anymore.”

I swallowed hard—a lump had formed in my throat. My skin felt electrified and there was a waterfall of tears pressing at the backs of my eyes.

“Oh, Janie, it’s been really tough for you, hasn’t it?”

His strong, soft hand cupped my cheek, and as a tear slipped down he gently wiped it away with his thumb.

“I still think you’re the best girl in the world,” he whispered, his breath caressing my lips he was so very close.

“And you’re not bad, for a boy,” I replied with a wry smile, remembering back to the first argument we’d ever had. Ryan hadn’t wanted to play pretend mummies and daddies with me even though I’d told him he could be a builder for his job and I’d let him play with my Lego. I’d run off crying and he’d followed me and told me he was sorry and that he thought I was the best girl in the world.

I had still been mad at him, so I had just said, “You’re not bad, for a boy.”

We’d laughed then, like six-year-olds do, and had got back to playing.

I snapped back to the present, his lips so close to mine, his hand on my cheek. I felt as though I was shaking, my whole body taken by a quake of shock and lust. His lips met mine and I stilled. Quiet peace reigned for a moment. I was at the pinnacle of bliss, everything was perfect and light. Then he moved his lips and the agitation returned. I burned deep in the pit of my stomach, my skin itched for his touch and I burned up, waiting for more.

He was my first kiss. I didn’t know what I was doing but instinct pushed me forward. I reached out to grab at his biceps, needing to feel more of him—he kept me grounded. I’d fall away into a chasm of darkness if I let go. I wanted to know it was real. Could I get him to pinch me to make sure I wasn’t dreaming?

Link: http://victoriablisse.co.uk/books/her-secret-past



Victoria Blisse is a mother, wife, Christian, Manchester United fan and award winning erotica author. She is also the editor of several Bigger Briefs collections, and the co-editor of the fabulous Smut Alfresco, Smut in the City and Smut by the Sea Anthologies.

Victoria is also one of the brains behind the fabulous Smut events, days and nights dedicated to erotica, fun and prizes. Check out http://ilovesmut.uk for more details.

She is equally at home behind a laptop or a cooker and she loves to create stories, poems, cakes and biscuits that make people happy. She was born near Manchester, England and her northern English quirkiness shows through in all of her stories.

Passion, love and laughter fill her works, just as they fill her busy life.

You can find often find Victoria procrastinating on Facebook http://facebook.com/victoriablisse , Twitter http://twitter.com/victoriablisse and Pinterest http://pinterest.com/victoriablisse

To find out more check out http://victoriablisse.co.uk


Many thanks Victoria! Fantastic extract.

Just three more archive dipping days left folks. Don’t miss tomorrow’s guest- the amazing Justine Elyot. A lovely lady, and an incredible writer.

Happy reading,

Kay xx

Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters Day 10: Tabitha Rayne

It’s Day 10, and today we are joined by the delicious Tabitha Rayne, who is leading us to The Meeting Point, (Book 3 in The Clockwork Butterfly Trilogy).

Be gentle with us Tabitha… (as if!!)

the meeting point


A story of love, freedom, and the future of mankind.

Deborah Regan has broken free from the prison where she’s been unjustly held for the past eight years. The scale of the devastation to the land outside is overwhelming. Toxins have taken hold, and the planet is dying. Deborah vows to find her lover Marcus and flee to the safety of the hills where their story first began.

Marcus is one of the few remaining men left on earth, and Deborah finds him held captive at a pleasure farm where he is kept to service rich and powerful women. Escape for him is complex and dangerous. They can only hope that the trio who helped Deborah before will come to their aid. Marcus has heard from his clients over the years of a mythical place with its own microclimate that toxin clouds seem to miss. He is sure they can find it and will be able to build a future together.

Mae, Lena, and Angelo feel compelled to find Deborah and Marcus who they know have a special connection that might prove essential to their survival. They make haste to track the couple and realize the plan they have chosen is fraught with danger and conflict.

Will they make it to the utopia Marcus dreams of?

(Content Warning: contains graphic sex scenes with multiple partners, including m/f and f/f sexual interaction, strong language, and end of the world shenanigans – This is the explosive climax to Taking Flight and A Clockwork Butterfly.)

Taking Flight ACB promo small


Lena wriggled her toes on the pebbly river bed, parting her legs as she did, feeling the rise of her arousal swish and sway in the current. Her arms trailed out languidly over the surface, and she lifted her tits out of the water for Angelo to view her unbearably tight nipples.

He did. He was standing on the river bank fully erect now, and his eyes shifted from Mae’s chest to Lena’s and his fingers wrapped around his cock. Mae looked to Lena and winked, taking her own nipples between her fingertips and pulling them, making Angelo wank harder. Lena did the same, relishing the display from both her lovers.

The fact that the older couple was still watching them didn’t bother Lena at all. In fact, she threw them a sideways glance and was amazed to feel turned on as Hazel caught her eye and smiled. The effect on her pussy was incredible. She wanted to put on a show for them. She wanted to give them the pleasure of watching a sex show, the same way they had just given one to her and her lovers.

Lena released one of her nipples and moved closer to Mae, smoothing her fingers down over the woman’s back then buttocks. Mae sighed and let her head fall back a little while still watching Angelo. Lena’s fingers probed between the crease of Mae’s buttocks and found entry between her thighs. Lena separated the flesh and fingered Mae, astounded at how she could feel the slippery wetness even in the water. Her middle finger was swallowed up into the woman’s hungry cunt and a growl released from her throat. Lena was so turned on now, she craved touch, and she pulled Mae’s hand down to her own pussy and held it on her mound, pressing it hard, humping the fleshy heel of her palm while fingering Mae.

Mae bucked and pressed against her, twitching her ass into Lena’s hand. Fluid leaked and mingled in the cold water, and Lena pulled out her finger and ran it up to the pucker of Mae’s asshole. There was resistance at first, so Lena leaned in to Mae’s ear.

“Let me in, you little tease.” Her words must have hit the spot and Mae groaned, spreading herself for the invasion. Lena pushed quickly and firmly and eased her way into Mae’s tight ring. Angelo was still watching, and Lena wondered if he could know what was going on, but by the crazed, lusty look in his eyes, he must have had a good idea.

“Angelo, get in here and fuck me,” demanded Mae as Lena’s finger slipped further into her ass. He didn’t need to be asked twice and made a perfect shallow dive, barely a splash, and swam under the water to them, surfacing between Mae’s tits.

“My, my, what do we have going on here?” He was hoarse, obviously trying to ignore the ferocious cold.

“I’m having my asshole fingered by my lover and I want you inside my sopping cunt, right now.”

Lena’s cheeks flushed. Mae always knew how to make her feel the tip between shame and arousal. Angelo smiled at her past Mae then pulled the two women toward him.

“Your wish,” he said, and Lena felt pressure on her fingers, through the walls between her lover’s intimate passages, “is my command.”

And with that, he lifted Mae onto his dick and slid right up inside her. Lena could feel every millimeter as it went in and was glad to still have Mae and her other hand clamped to her own cunt. She was so aroused now, her hips seemed to be bucking of their own accord as the fucking intensified. Just as she began to surge and soar on her climax, she glanced over at Birch and Hazel who were kissing passionately. As she watched their hands masturbate each other, a white light engulfed her and she came hard, bucking her pelvis into Mae’s hand as her tight asshole clutched and suckled her finger.

At the serene height of her orgasm, she sensed others around her, darting through her quizzically, but oozing love. One, two, three of the entities passed through her then suddenly everything dimmed and a great sorrow washed over Lena. She came to as Mae and Angelo thrashed and climaxed together, growling and tearing at each other with desperate grabbing hands.

Lena was sated, but bewildered. She looked over at Birch and Hazel who also looked a little puzzled.

“That was fucking amazing!” shrieked Mae, her face shining with post-coital glory. “Now can we please…get…out…of…this…f-f-fucking freezing river?” She made to move forward and Lena pulled her finger free.

Once they were shivering on the bank, hopping around to try and get dry, Lena went over to Birch and Hazel.

“What was that? Who was there? I felt so sad—like something had left me.”

The older couple acknowledged that they shared the same feeling, but offered no explanation…


Buy links

All Romance












Tabitha Rayne CS small


Tabitha Rayne has been told she is quirky, lovely and kinky – not necessarily in that order or by the same person. She writes erotic romance and as long as there’s a love scene, she’ll explore any genre. She also has a passion for painting nudes. Her novels are with Beachwalk Press and her short stories are included in anthologies from Xcite, Oysters & Chocolate, Cleis Press, Ravenous Romance, Burning Books Press, Velvet Books and House of Erotica.

Social media







Amazon Author page





Many thanks for such  great extract Tabitha! Before you all rush off to The Meeting Point of your choosing- just a quick reminder that there will be another Tasty Taster along tomorrow. The gorgeous Victoria Blisse will be here to tickle those erogenous zones…

Happy reading,

Kay x 

Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters Day 9: Janine Ashbless

It’s Day 9, and I’m delighted to welcome another of my favourite erotica writers to my site today. I have had the pleasure of meeting Janine Ashbless many times over the last decade, and she is every bit as lovely as she is talented.

Janine is sharing a delicious extract from her incredibly sexy novel Named and Shamed today. You might want to sit down for this one…


“Once upon a time, a naughty girl called Tansy stole a very precious manuscript from a kindly antiquarian. But all of the world’s ancient and powerful magic, lost for centuries, has returned…and now there is much more at stake than a few sheets of parchment! Thus begins a rude and rugged fairy tale, the likes of which you NEVER read when you were little! Poor Tansy is led though the most pleasurable trials and the most shameful tribulations as her quest unfolds before her. Orgasmic joy and abject humiliation are laid upon Tansy in equal measure as she straddles the two worlds of magic and man. Fantasy and BDSM slither together to make NAMED & SHAMED the consummate adult fable. Immerse yourself in this dark and depraved fairy tale, and may all your endings be happy ever after!”



(Tansy is about to realise that she has come under a fairy curse)

Hell. I shook myself out of my reverie, confused. What was I doing, fantasising about Vince and Gavin in almost the same breath? I looked down and saw that my hand was pressed hard against my pubic mound, grinding my swollen clit. My body had recovered from last night’s hammering and — obviously over-stimulated — was now ready for more.

I really needed to cum. Again. Okay, another wank, then.

No, I realised with a sickening lurch, as at that moment the bathroom door slammed shut. What I really needed was to get out of the house before I had to face Gail.

Throwing on my T-shirt and skirt and a pair of sandals, I was out of the front door before she emerged from the shower. My plan was to go fetch my impounded car from Croydon, and on a Saturday morning that meant taking the Underground, so I set out walking to the station.

It was just a bit unfortunate that I’d headed off before I had any chance to cool down. Even as I walked, I was uncomfortably aware of the heat and emptiness of my sex, and the way my panties felt as if they were rubbing in all the wrong places. I suppose everyone gets that sensation sometime – the random hard-on, the crazy gotta-frig-now itch. Well, I had it bad that morning. It made nearly every man I passed a sudden source of interest. Furtively I eyed them up — the delivery guy dropping off crates of tinned food at the corner store, the two youths smoking on the bench outside the Tube entrance, the busker at the bottom of the escalator — wondering what they looked like naked, how big their tools were, what they’d feel like fucking me good and hard.

God, every man had a cock. It sounds stupid, but it was like the revelation of a great secret. Every one of them was capable of fucking me. Think of the potential.

My feet felt clumsy, tripping me up. An unfocused excitement made my blood run quickly. I shook my head at myself, bemused and irritated . . . yet enjoying it too.

Then the next Northern Line train arrived, and things got worse.

It was a Saturday in the middle of summer so of course the ventilation had broken down. And a big chunk of the Underground wasn’t operating because of weekend maintenance, so by the time I got to the middle of town every train, platform and stairwell was packed out. It was sweaty and hot, and inside the carriages we were pressed together, standing room only. I stared into space, pretending not to notice the hot young Spanish student-types I was crammed in against, my breasts bumping softly against the back of the taller one as the train swayed. The stuffy air in here was making me feel a bit dizzy. I hung my weight from the hand-strap overhead, feeling the tick of my pulse in my engorged clit and wishing I could touch it just to get some relief. Wishing I could lick that student’s beautiful neck and feel the stir of his nape hair under my tongue.

That’s when it happened. Someone behind me – unseen and anonymous – cupped my ass briefly with one hand.

Hey, it’s not like it’s the first time I’ve been groped on public transport. Normally I make damn sure I protest and embarrass the hell out of them. But this time, I just stood there. The weight of my own churning appetite seemed to pin me in place. When I didn’t react, the hand took the opportunity for another pass, squeezing the full curve of my bum-cheek a little more boldly.

A hot bubble of arousal burst in my sex, releasing a trickle that flooded my knicker gusset.

Tansy, I admonished myself. You dirty cow. Stop this now. But my body wasn’t listening.

Surreptitiously, moving with the sway of the train, my unseen admirer shifted in a tiny bit closer. It was definitely a man: I could smell his aftershave and his skin, and feel his bulk at my back. But I had no idea what he looked like. I licked my dry lips and blinked at the advert over the door, aware now that my nipples, despite the heat of the day, had hardened to points that were poking the Spanish guy quite insistently. I wondered how he didn’t notice, but he was deep in conversation with his friend. I wondered what was happening to me, that I should respond to this molestation so submissively. It wasn’t like me to be shy or fearful.

But then this wasn’t shyness or fear. It was dirty, thrilling pleasure.

The hand moved, sliding all over my right cheek. The flower-print skirt I was wearing was really quite short and those fingers found the edge easily. I wasn’t wearing tights. Warm fingertips brushed my bare skin. Oh God . . . . that felt good.

Involuntarily, I let out a tiny moan, and the eyes of Spanish guy’s friend flicked to me. I flushed, then switched to gazing at the shadowy pipework flashing past the window. My ass was being bumped now, quite gently, by a hard knot of trouser-clad flesh. Shit, thought I. He has a hard-on.

The train gave a sudden lurch around a curve and everyone staggered a little. The man behind me took the opportunity to grasp my hip and pull my ass into his crotch. I didn’t resist. I could feel his erection fighting against his clothes, pressing against my bum.

A stranger’s rubbing his dick against me. And I’m letting him…

Janine Ashbless (Photograph by David Woolfall)

Janine Ashbless (Photograph by David Woolfall)

Janine Ashbless Bio:

Janine Ashbless has had 11 books of erotica published by Black Lace, Samhain and others. Her short stories have appeared in many anthologies including Best Women’s Erotica (three times) and Best Bondage Erotica. Most of her fiction has paranormal or dark fantasy themes. She’s currently writing an erotic romance trilogy about fallen angels: the first, Cover Him with Darkness, published 2014.





Many thanks for sharing this most tasty of tastes with us today Janine.

Don’t forget to come back tomorrow, for a bite from the archive of Tabitha Rayne…

Happy reading,

Kay xx


Two Weeks of Tasty Tasters Day 7: Ashley Lister

As we reach the end of the first week of my Tasty Tasters series, I am honoured to welcome one of my personal heroes from the world of erotica. Sit back and enjoy this wonderful extract from the pen of the incomparable Ashley Lister.

Over to you Ashley…


When baking entrepreneur Trudy Cole falls for celebrity chef Bill Hart, all is far from sweetness and light. Instead passion, betrayal and ambition makes for an explosive mix in the high stakes game of gourmet dining.

Trudy Cole is an aspiring chef with ambitions to own her own patisserie. When she encounters celebrity chef Bill Hart she finds the older man antagonistic but disconcertingly attractive. Sexual chemistry soon boils to an unbearable temperature and they become lovers.

But Trudy’s affair and ambitions for her own business become too hot to handle when she discovers that Bill has a wife. To make matters worse, her business partner and ardent admirer, Donny, threatens to destroy her patisserie and Bill Hart’s reputation.

At a stately home where Trudy wants to woo investors with her culinary masterpieces, the paths of all three players cross again and the heat is turned up to a much higher setting…



This taster is one of the early chapters from A Taste of Passion, book one in my series Sweet Temptation. This is the first chapter where Trudy gets a chance to meet the restaurateur, Bill Hart.

Trudy’s spent an evening waiting in his restaurant, Boui-Boui, trying to talk to someone about the ingredients in a muffin she’s sampled. The staff have been trying to get her to leave and, eventually, they’ve turned the lights off and locked the door. But now, in the unlit restaurant, a stranger has taken the seat beside her.

Chapter Four

“What do you want?”

Her heartbeat quickened. She had no idea who he was. Had she been left alone with the restaurant’s security detail? Her grand idea of remaining at the table, until the restaurant’s staff were forced to deal with her, no longer seemed like such a clever strategy. A slick sheen of sweat moistened her palms. Her mouth was almost too dry to talk. She started twice before finally finding the words.

“These muffins,” she began. It took every ounce of effort she possessed not to stammer. She willed herself to appear in control. Even though it was dark and even though she didn’t know who she was talking to, Trudy felt the need to exude an air of contained professional calm. “These muffins are delicious.”

“I know. Everything I serve here at The Boui-Boui is delicious. Now, tell me, what do you want?”

It was too dark to see who he was. He was simply a suggestion of shadow against the blackness of the unlit restaurant. His voice had a northern twang to it that reminded her of the blustering heroes from hardy TV shows and gritty films. It was an accent that suggested the words were spoken by someone with no time to tolerate whimsy, artifice or fools. They were plain-spoken words from a plain-speaking man.

His accent trilled softly against her ear like the rasp of a favourite blanket. Maddeningly, she knew his voice was one she had heard before and that she knew well. She racked her brains, desperately trying to think where she had heard it and how she knew this stranger.

“What do I want?” Trudy repeated. It was difficult to believe that the full details of her request had not been passed onto the senior kitchen staff. She brushed past that detail refusing to let her ire show. “Perhaps you might be able to tell me?” she began excitedly. “Are you the pâtissier?”

Even as she asked the question she knew that wasn’t correct. The waitress had told her that the pâtissier was a woman called Kali.

“No. I’m not pâtissier. I’m head chef. This is my restaurant.”

Her mouth worked soundlessly for a moment. Whatever she had hoped to say suddenly seemed unimportant as she realised she was in the presence of a legend. She was briefly thankful for the darkness because it meant she wouldn’t be embarrassed by the fact that she was flustered with this discovery. She was in the presence of her idol.

“William Hart?”


The William Hart?”

“Unless he owes you money, yes.”

Her heart had been racing before. Now it thundered so loud she was sure he would be able to hear it in the darkened silence between them. “It’s an honour to meet you, Mr Hart. You came to the university and delivered a seminar. It was most inspirational.”

He grunted as though the matter was of no importance.

“What do you want?” In his broad accent the question came out as: Waz tha one? “It’s late, I’m jiggered and, whilst I’ve got no problems locking you in here for the night, I’d be better suited if you simply chuffed off back to where you’ve come from. Let those of us who work for a living get some shut-eye.”

She tried squinting at him in the darkness. His dialect and unfamiliar word choices made it difficult for her to work out if he was angry or amused or possessed by some other emotion. If there had been better lighting between them she would have been able to read his eyes and establish if he was sincere in his threat to lock her inside the restaurant.

“I wanted to learn something about the ingredients in your citrus and blueberry muffin.”

There was a moment’s silence. “Are you lakin’ with me?”

She shook her head and then realised he wouldn’t be able to see the movement in the darkness. “I don’t think I’m laking with you. I’m not fully sure I understand what that means.”

“Lakin’?” He sighed. “Are you joking? Are you playing with me? Are you having a laugh? Are you messing me about? Did you really spend your entire evening sat at this table because you wanted to know what’s in one of my blueberry muffins?” He chuckled dourly and added, “I’ll tell you now, lass, the answer to that one was buried somewhere in the question.”

Trudy frowned. She could tell he was mocking her and she supposed her unorthodox behaviour did merit some level of derision. Nevertheless, she was determined not to be dismissed as a foolish blonde who hadn’t worked out that a blueberry muffin contained blueberries.

“I recognise so many flavours in this product,” she said quickly. “I can taste the organic, free range eggs. I can taste hand-milled wheat as well as blueberries and citrus zest.” A revelation suddenly came to her and she said, “I’ve even worked out that those sugars that were initially confusing me are an acacia honey.”

He drummed his fingers on the table.

Her vision was beginning to adjust to the lack of light in the room and she could see the lines that weathered his face. His eyes were wrinkled by the suggestion of constant smiles. She could see he had raised one steel-grey eyebrow, as though encouraging her to continue. She wanted to believe he was grudgingly impressed with her abilities but the lighting in the dining area was too dim for her to read much from the shadows that cloaked his face.

“Well done,” he said drily. “You can taste flavours.”

“But that’s the problem,” she insisted. She quashed the urge to let him hear the impatience in her tone. “I can’t name all of them. There’s one remaining flavour that I haven’t yet been able to identify. That’s why I’m still sitting here. I need to know the identity of that missing ingredient.”

His smile glinted brilliant white in the shadows. The darkness made it impossible for her to see if there was any kindness in his eyes. The expression made her think of a shark on the scent of blood.

“When I delivered my seminar at your school-”

“University,” she corrected.

He waved a hand as though the distinction was unimportant. Continuing without pause he asked, “-can you remember what I spoke about?”

She didn’t have to hesitate. The lesson he had imparted on that day had been one that matched her own beliefs about the ideals of cuisine. Goosebumps bristled at the nape of her neck as she remembered William Hart delivering his message to her and a lecture theatre of two hundred students.

“I remember it vividly. You told us to respect the flavours.” Her voice lowered to a reverential whisper as she repeated the words. “You said that a chef needs to be conversant with flavours. As conversant with flavours as a concert pianist is conversant with classical music. As conversant with flavours as a writer is conversant with works of great literature. You said that it’s the duty of every great chef to respect and understand every flavour in the kitchen. Respect the flavours.”

“It sounds sexier when you say it,” he admitted. “But, despite the respect you clearly have for flavours, you still don’t recognise that added flavour in my citrus and blueberry muffin?”

She started to shake her head and then stopped. It wasn’t that she didn’t recognise the flavour. She did know it – or something similar. Her chest began to swell as she realised why she had associated emotions such as excitement and happiness with the flavour.

Her heartbeat quickened.

Her smile grew broader.

It was a Christmas flavour.

“It’s a type of cinnamon, isn’t it?”

He laughed. “Is it chuff. It’s not just a type of cinnamon. It’s the type of cinnamon. It’s Sri Lankan cinnamon.”

Her brow creased as she tried to recall all that she had learnt about cinnamon and apply that knowledge to her memory of the flavour in the blueberry and citrus muffins. “From the cinnamomum tree,” Trudy remembered. “It’s not one of the more common variants of cinnamon like the Indonesian or Vietnamese.”

She watched his silhouette nod approval. “You do know your stuff.”

Hearing those words from the lips of William Hart, growled in his impenetrable northern voice, was almost more impressive an accolade than the honours degree that she had received earlier in the day. She knew, when she finally retired to bed this evening in the house she shared with Charlotte and Donny, Hart’s sincere praise would be at the forefront of her thoughts as she drifted to sleep.

Trudy stroked her tongue along her teeth. Now that she knew the identity of the flavour she felt as though she would be able to recreate the muffins in her own kitchen. It took an effort of self-restraint not to leap from her seat to hurry home to start baking. Of course, she reminded herself, she wouldn’t be able to make a start until the morning, after a trip to the local market where she could maybe track down a specialist spice supplier who might stock Sri Lankan cinnamon, but-

“Thank you,” she said earnestly. “Thank you so much for sharing that with me. I don’t think you know how much it meant to me.”

His silhouette shrugged. “I can see we share a passion. I enjoy sharing things with people who share my passions. I assume, since you’ve hung around here this long, you have time to let me show you my kitchen?”


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Ashley Lister is a prolific writer of erotic fiction, having written more than two dozen full length erotic novels and over a hundred short stories. Aside from writing, Ashley teaches creative writing and is an occasional performance poet. Ashley lives in the north west of England.



Huge thanks to Ashley, for sharing such a brilliant extract.

Don’t forget to come back for the start of the second week of tasty tasters tomorrow, when the gorgeous Lexie Bay stops by.

Happy reading,

Kay x


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