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Something for the Weekend: The Collector

For this week’s #somethingfortheweekend, let’s sample a touch of Scottish – hidden between the kinky pages of The Collector, – an anthology of twenty two stories each ‘collected’ by an anonymous narrator.

The Collector 2016 b

 

Blurb

Gathering salaciously erotic stories against an everyday backdrop of bus trips, train journeys, coffee shops, and restaurants, The Collector documents a wide variety of sexual encounters as she travels Great Britain.

The Collector’s research takes her into every arena of the erotic experience, from love, lust, submission and dominance, to voyeurism and beyond.

Are you brave enough to see if it was your supposedly private conversation she overheard – and then wrote down?

***

Extract from The Scottish Fantasy

Stacie gasped as the door opened. The dark shine to the man’s slate eyes as he regarded her and her friend Kate was in danger of taking Stacie’s breath away, and he hadn’t even spoken yet.

Tall, broad, with a tanned face and short spiked hair, a hint of stubble shadowed his square chin. Obviously surprised to see two young women walking through the woods so late on a winter’s afternoon, the ranger ushered them inside his wooden hut.

Introducing himself as Rob—Like Rob Roy! Stacie’s inner voice shouted at her. How perfect is that!—he looked at them enquiringly, ‘I dunna ken what you’re doin’ here, hens.’

Stacie’s brow furrowed. She’d thought that the Scottish spoke English.

Kate laughed as she saw her friend’s confused expression. ‘He means he doesn’t understand what we want, honey. “Dunna ken” means “don’t know” and “hen” is the local term for girl.’  Turning toward the ranger, Kate smiled. ‘This is Stacie, and I’m Kate. Stacie hasn’t got her ear geared into the local accent yet; she’s American.’

‘I guess that means an American accent.’ The ranger spoke so softly, Stacie felt herself melting on the spot. ‘I rather like those.’

Ignoring her friend, whose eyes were on stalks, leaving her in no doubt that Stacie was on an internal lust trip, Kate said, ‘We’re really sorry to bother you so late, but could you tell us where we are? We seem to be on a much longer trail than we intended to be, and we’ve lost the track.’

Rob’s dark eyes bored into her as she spoke. Kate couldn’t decide if their presence mildly amused him, or if he was merely tolerating the interruption to his work.

‘We’ve run out of water as well. Could we fill up our bottles here, please?’

‘It’s a good job you stopped, hen.’ The ranger pulled a map off his cluttered desk and pointed a thick finger at a red dotted line. ‘You’re here, on the all day walk. It’s called that for sound reasons.’

Lost in an erotic daydream, Stacie wasn’t listening to a word he said, just to the sound of his voice; the beautiful, gentle burr of his accent. She judged it fitted neatly half way between Ewan McGregor and Sean Connery.

When Kate had invited her friend over from the States for a couple of weeks exploring the Grampians of Scotland, Stacie had been thrilled. Not only could she catch up with her gorgeous friend and occasional lover, she could visit an area of the world that had always held a fantasy for her. Kilts, burly men in tight white vests, cabers being tossed, heather, whiskey, and mountains topped with snow.

The heather and mountains were a reality sure enough, as were the late night tots of warming whiskey she’d shared with Kate as they snuggled up together in the king-sized bed their Deeside hotel room provided. But until now, in this ranger’s office, hidden away in the woods near the flooded caves of Burn O’Vat, Stacie hadn’t seen anyone who even came close to the Celtic man of her late night fantasies.

Stacie felt mesmerised by the ranger. Despite the coldness of the late winter air he wore no coat, and his green sweater sleeves were rolled back to show arms honed by hard work. Forget kilts, this was as close to perfection as Stacie’s Scottish fantasy was ever going to get.

‘I’ll fill your bottles right enough, but if you’ll heed my advice, you’ll go back on the route you came. Far quicker and safer. It’ll be dark in about two hours.’

‘Thanks, I think we’ll do that.’ Kate watched as he took their empty water bottles over to his sink. His back view was as stunning as his front. The goldfish expression on Stacie’s face told her girlfriend that she was mentally undressing him, and Kate began to do the same.  Well aware that Stacie had serious fantasy issues where Scottish men were concerned, Kate wondered just how turned on her friend was. Did she have damp knickers? Were her nipples hard?

As Kate’s thoughts rambled, her own arousal began to tweak up a notch. Perhaps… She took a deep breath. Well, why not?

‘It must be lonely here, on your own all day.’ Kate knew the line was a bit lame, but she didn’t care. A sideways glance at Stacie showed that her lover had understood her intentions, and approved.

Rob didn’t look round. He didn’t need to. He could sense the two sets of eyes on his back; they were almost scorching him. Taking his time to fill the second bottle, the ranger thought the situation through.

Two of them, both hot totty. One a blonde, one a redhead. One English. One American. A tasty combination. Their bulky winter coats, sensible walking trousers and boots didn’t give much away, but he was willing to bet that once all the layers were off, they would be a sight to behold. He could be wrong, he supposed, but maybe…

Rob replied to Kate’s question. ‘I like it well enough, hen. I ken it’s quiet, but I like peace and quiet.’

‘So, you don’t get… lonely, then?’ Kate knew she was being blatant, but she didn’t care. If she could pull this off, it would be the perfect holiday present for her friend. Stacie, her mouth dry with anticipation, stepped forward. Pulling off her gloves to reveal pale hands with violently clashing purple nail-varnished tips, she took the full bottles from Rob’s hands. Making certain her fingers brushed his as she did so.

‘Thank you,’ Stacie purred as she passed one of the bottles to her partner. The tacit standoff that followed as tension rippled through the small office room-cum-workshop was eventually broken by Rob.

‘Would you lassies like something to warm you up before you go?’  His sentence, delivered in a deadpan tone, could have been suggesting something as mundane as sharing of a mug of hot chocolate, but his sparkling eyes hinted at so much more.

Stacie’s pulse quickened as Kate casually replied, ‘Well, if it’s not too much trouble, that would be lovely.’ Another normal sentence, but packed with enough eyelash-fluttering that she might as well have screamed out ‘Fuck us now!’

‘I was about to light the fire.’ Rob knelt at a small grate, already neatly piled with kindling. ‘Perhaps you’d like to lose your jackets for a while. When this takes, this place gets pretty hot.’

The girls’ eyes were drawn to the hopping, spluttering flames. They threw their coats over their backpacks, which they’d already dumped by the front door.

Taking his time with the fire, the ranger didn’t stir from where he crouched until it had taken to his satisfaction, and was smoking nicely up the chimney. Then, with a measured movement, he stood and faced his guests, who with unspoken agreement had divested themselves of far more than just their coats. Somehow Rob managed to keep his face passive as his eyes travelled from the top of each girl’s head down to their toes.

They stood naked. Holding hands. So, lovers in their own right, then. Nice. He smiled. It had been over fifteen years since he’d been with two women at the same time. A memory that kept him warm during the dark winter days and nights as he guarded the woodland and its wildlife.

Deciding against comment, Rob took a silent moment to choose which girl he’d treat rough and which one he’d simply treat. Then, with a pace that neither girl would have associated with the man whose previous movements had been so controlled and steady, he stripped…

***

The stories within The Collector vary greatly in length, style, and taste. The best way to think of it is as an erotica menu- lots of tasty tasters to help you discover which erotica works best for you. If you alike all sorts of erotica already, then you should (I hope!) like

Buy Links – Kindle

http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01EVVGYB2?ref_=pe_2427780_160035660

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01EVVGYB2?ref_=pe_2427780_160035660 

***

Here are a couple of lovely reviews for The Collector!

‘WOW, what a GREAT book! Ms. Jaybee, the true author of THE COLLECTOR, honestly has me curious if she is, in fact, this collector. Her intros were so well written and believable that I fell under an erotic spell while reading. I didn’t LOVE every story, but I really did at least LIKE almost all of them for one reason or another. My favorites were Treasure, where a woman invites a friend of a friend back to her place so he can discover her hidden treasure; and Crushed, where a 2 (and a half) people in a standstill crowd experienced a hedonistic anonymous encounter. If I heard real life stories like these on a regular basis, I swear I would die from a state of constant arousal! … ‘ The Romance Reviews

‘Such a unique book.  The title was perfect for this book.  The Collector.  I know you are asking how I call an erotic book unique.  Well, it is because the author has such a wonderful way with writing.  I admit this is not my first Kay Jaybee book, and it will certainly not be my last.  Kaybee, is such a wonderful author.  The stories she writes are not just all sex, they each have meaning, plot, characters, challenges.  This book is no exception to her wonderful work.  Another amazing read by Jaybee.’ Bunny Reviews 

***

Happy reading,

Kay x

Blog Tour: Finding Space by Queenie Black @queenieblackwr1

Today I’m delighted to welcome Queenie Black to my place as part of her

Hard-Pressed blog tour.

(Look out for the chance to win a copy of the eBook at the bottom of this page)

Over to you Queenie…

I recently found myself thinking about the issue of space.

As the oldest of many, many siblings (more than you can count on one hand) I never had my own room when I was growing up. A brief sojourn at university gave me a room of my own with a pash-killer bed (yes, they really did have beds known as that in the 80’s but I met my soulmate and got married before three years were up.

Thirty years, a shared bedroom and four children later I still don’t have my own physical space in my home. There’re plenty of rooms in the house that I could use now that the chicks have well and truly flown the nest, but I no longer know what to do with physical space. I write in the living room in front of the TV or in bed with the door open where I can hear the goings on in the rest of the house because I don’t like the feeling of being apart and away from the hub of where things happen, away from the living areas. Used to being always on call, (after my children, it was caring for elderly relatives) I feel the need to be available and shutting the world out behind a door makes me incredibly unsettled. I’ve tried writing in the garden shed but I couldn’t bear the sensation of being set apart. It felt like a punishment, not a privilege.

These limitations on having my own space made me realise that for me the ability to find space doesn’t rely on having a writing shed or a craft room or a reading nook. I learnt from early on in my life to be space self-sufficient. In other words, I might have been there physically, but I was elsewhere in my head. I learnt to carve space out in my thoughts while I was doing household chores, or driving to work, or sitting with my family in the evening. I found space in reading while hiding in the boughs of the tree overhanging my neighbour’s yard, or on buses to work, in my breaks. When I couldn’t read, I imagined. I created events and scenarios, characters that took me away to places where I could be alone, breathe, rest or have adventures.

These flights away from the hurly-burly of life are what fueled my imagination and gave me the material to write. They filled wells of creativity but also helped me become more emphatic and able to see other people’s viewpoints. The limitations of physical space throughout my life, have, in fact brought me to here, to the creative person I am today, and I’m pleased and proud of that person.

Doing without has made me able to do within, if you like.

I wanted to explore that a little in Hard-Pressed. Having Lucien take away Rose’s control and provide her with the care and support she needs while she faces her fears gives her a safe emotional space to discover who she can be. To learn what he always knew- that she is strong enough to surrender to her needs without losing herself.

Blurb:

Master Lucien has one night at Club Hard.

One night…to show bodyguard Rose Dainty that he can be the Dom she needs,

One night…to show her that submitting to him doesn’t make her weak, that true submission requires strength and trust.

Will pushing Rose to her limits prove to her she can trust him with her body and heart, and can she let go of her deepest fears long enough to enjoy her surrender? `

They both have everything to prove and everything to lose.

***

Excerpt:

I mounted the six shallow steps and faced the double front doors. Twin carriage lights cast a soft gleam over the brass plaque with its discrete lettering:

Club Hard

Private Members Only

I desperately wanted to run back down the steps, leap into my car, and drive home, but if I did, nothing would change, and I’d go back to dividing my time between working out, Candy Crush Saga, and the occasional night out with my friends. I might miss out on learning something about myself, something that could make a difference in my sex life. Worse, I might miss a chance at love.

I stayed, my feet rooted to the floor, but the insides of my hands were so damp, my finger slipped on the brass bell, setting off a short, discordant jangling. I winced as I rang it again properly this time. That certainly wouldn’t endear me to anyone.

Shifting from foot to foot, trying to keep the blood circulating in my toes, I looked around. Behind me, the gravel drive snaked away to a discreet carpark, and trees and shrubs created shadows within shadows. Autumn had finally reached London and in this exclusive part of it, crisp, clean air and earthy leaf mulch replaced the smell of fast food and exhaust.

I shifted again, starting to get irritated. If you were going to demand a woman wear nothing but a skirt that barely covered her butt, and a top that was little more than a bit of elastic bandage—on me it was ridiculous, if I sneezed, I’d pop out over the top—then you should damn well open the door promptly. Now, despite wearing my warmest coat over the absurd ensemble, there was a distinct draught zipping under my hem and freezing my exposed butt cheeks.

I lifted my finger to stab the bell again, and the door swung open.

Bloody hell. A real butler. I was no stranger to mansions with staff. Working as a bodyguard meant I saw the inside of a lot of wealthy homes, but so far, a liveried butler was a new one to me.

“Can I help you?”

I cleared my throat, wondering if there was any etiquette for addressing a butler, aware that my finger was still lurking in the vicinity of his eye. “Umm, I’m, ah, it’s Ms. Dainty. To see Mr. Dufort. I’m expected.”

He waved me through into a large marble-floored hall with a fire burning at one side. A wide, elegant staircase at the back curved away to the upper floors.

“I’ll inform Mr. Dufort that you’re here, if you’d like to take a seat.” He indicated a collection of sofas and easy chairs huddled as if for warmth around the fireplace. I made a beeline for the heat.

“May I take your coat?”

I crossed my arms tightly. No way was I exposing my scantily clad self. “Ah, thanks, but I’m a bit cold.”

“I see my guest has arrived, Henry.”

I turned away from the fire to see Lucien Dufort crossing the hall toward me. The floor seemed to drop a few inches and I had to grab the back of a chair to steady myself as his delicious, rich chocolate voice with its faint French accent wound around me, setting my heart hammering.

A tall, elegant man, he moved toward me with predatory intent, covering the floor in loose, confident strides, but it was his eyes that held my gaze, dark eyes, sharp with intelligence and power. He wasn’t a handsome man. His narrow-bladed Gallic nose, inherited from his mother, was slightly overlarge for that, but his lips were sensual, and the mix of tenderness and lust in his expression as he looked at me sent electric tingles charging down my spine.

“Rose, welcome to Club Hard.” He lifted my hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, his tongue flickering into the little hollow between my two smallest fingers, mimicking the act of sex. Normally, that would be an instant turn-off, but when Lucien did it, everything inside me melted. I tugged my hand free and shoved it into my coat pocket. This was bad. We hadn’t even started yet and my hormones were doing a happy dance.

“Your coat, ma petite.”

I undid the buttons reluctantly and he stripped it off my shoulders, giving it to Henry before indicating my feet. “Barefoot, please.”

I obeyed, steadying myself with one hand on Lucien’s forearm. I could have rested it there all day, enjoying the feel of thick bone and the flex of hard muscles, but I quickly unzipped my boots and gave them to Henry, who took them as solemnly as if I was handing him the crown jewels for safekeeping. He disappeared, taking my things with him, and I stood shivering, waiting for Lucien to say or do something. I shouldn’t have felt vulnerable. I fought with this amount of flesh on display, so it shouldn’t have bothered me, yet insecurity and apprehension crept hand-in-hand up my spine. “Lucien?”

He cupped my chin, his palm warm and sure, his thumb stroking my cheekbone in a gesture I found calming. “Tonight, you will address me as Monsieur, or Sir.” His words sank deep inside me, reaching a place I wasn’t aware existed. A place I didn’t want to believe existed. I stepped back, dislodging his hand.

Lucien’s cheek creased in amusement. “So, ma belle perle, the challenge begins. Are you ready?”

Buy links:

Amazon USA: https://amzn.to/2lXpCSP     

Amazon UK: https://amzn.to/2kswibm  

Evernight:  https://www.evernightpublishing.com/hard-pressed-by-queenie-black/    

Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/958783  

Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/ebook/hard-pressed-18  

iBooks: https://books.apple.com/gb/book/hard-pressed/id1480423303

 ***

Author bio:

I’ve always loved writing and I won my first prize for a short story when I was still at primary school. I’m an avid reader of romance and erotic romance and can usually be found with my nose in a book. The dynamics and sheer variety of human relationships fascinate me, and this is what I like to explore in my writing. I live in North Yorkshire with my husband and cat where I enjoy running and Tai Chi.

Social media links:

Twitter: https://twitter.com/queenieblackwr1

Website: http://www.queenieblackauthor.com/

Facebook page: https://www.facebook.com/queenieblackauthor/

Don’t miss out on your chance to win a copy of Hard Pressed!

GIVEAWAY!

http://www.rafflecopter.com/rafl/display/8b9ec5be192/? 

***

Happy reading,

Kay x

Barcelona Baby!

Two weeks ago I celebrated my 15th anniversary of ‘being’ Kay Jaybee.

Thanks to a competition I won at this March’s Eroticon UK – I was lucky enough to spend that anniversary in the beautiful city of Barcelona – courtesy of Fetish.com.

This was my first trip to Barcelona, and I packed everything I could into my visit – including a peep around the door of Fetish.com HQ!

Diego, Kay and Miguel

Greeted by the lovely Nuria, Diego and Miguel, I was treated to a delicious staff lunch (rather better than the tuna sandwich I tend to grab here) and given a tour of their office on the top floor of an apartment block. What a view!

They even have their own pool- from which, I’m assured, they often have meetings, in the company of the all essential rubber duck!

Having talked business and pleasure, I left the good folk of Fetish.com and continued to enjoy a whirlwind adventure around Barcelona, taking in the stunning cathedral, as many coffee shops as possible and the main city museum, which leads the way down to the Roman city that still survives beneath Barcelona’s modern equivalent.

I was in historian heaven.

Roman Barcelona – church site

One venue I could hardly fail to visit was the Erotica Museum. Here, tucked away above shops, is hidden a fantastic collection of kink, from the weird to the wonderful, the kitsch to the luxurious.

Chastity Belts

A fascination with sex and our sexual lives and drives has been with humanity since records began.

Scenes from the Karma Sutra

From the ‘availability’ paintings from the brothel of Pompeii, to the pleasure machines of the ‘supposedly prudish’ Victorians, and everything in between, this interesting- and occasionally eye watering- collection is a must see for any erotica fan. (They sell lovely underwear as well – #justsaying)

As I sipped coffee, sampled ice cream, and generally took in the glorious architecture and atmosphere, I couldn’t help but reflection how I came to be in such as beautiful city in the first place.

One random event- 15 years ago- changed my entire life.

As regular readers to this blog will know, I wrote a story on a napkin. A cross dressing kink tale. The idea came from nowhere- I’d had no idea when I wrote up that day that I was going to write anything other than a shopping list. That story- three months later- was published- and the rest is history.

I know that, if Violet Blue hadn’t taken ‘Jen and Tim’ for her anthology Lips Like Sugar, then I wouldn’t have written anything else. It was just supposed to be a one off burst of fun. The minute I’d submitted the story, I forgot all about it- until the acceptance letter arrived from the USA…

…after that, I was hooked…and I still am.

Thanks again to Fetish for their kindness and generosity. Don’y forget, you can reach their brilliant adult dating/information website by clicking this link– or the banner that lives at the bottom of my blog site.

And thank you to you, lovely reader. Without you, Kay Jaybee simply wouldn’t exist.

Happy reading,

Kay xx

 

 

 

 

 

Fifteen Years…and counting

This week sees the 15th anniversary of the first time I wrote some erotica! A fact that, in itself, seems impossible to me – a shy, self-conscious, paranoiac woman who has never quite got used to the fact that people actually want to by her books!

I still maintain that- if that very first story hadn’t been published- I’d never have picked a pen up for fiction creation ever again.

I am particularly fortunate in that, this year, I’m celebrating this anniversary with a trip to Barcelona courtesy of Fetish.com

Much to my surprise, when I was teaching at the Eroticon event last March, I won the 69 seconds competition…the prize being 2 nights in Barcelona. I fly there today!

You could see how I won my prize here-

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xnTASTDgE3E&feature=youtu.be&has_verified=1 

As with any anniversary, I have found myself reflecting on all that has happened to me ‘writing wise’ over the past decade and a half.

What a roller coaster ride it has been. Or perhaps it’s been more of a carousel, a long roundabout of constant ups and downs, but where, ultimately you always end up back where started, and yet you can’t quite stop the ride to get off…?

My first piece of erotica was a written on a paper serviette in a cafe in Aberdeenshire. I swear the idea came to be from nowhere. I don’t know why I was suddenly thinking about a cross dressing male who liked to have his arse spanked- but that is exactly what happened.

It took some time for me to be brave enough to do anything with the story. It was a couple of weeks before it made it onto a proper piece of paper, and several more before it was typed onto my computer and edited into shape. The amount of courage it took me to look up erotica publishers on the Internet- and the covert way I went about it- seems laughable now.

I sent off my story- which I rather unimaginatively had called Jen and Tim to Cleis Press- never expecting to hear anything again, and in the meantime, I’d written a rather kinky poem called Regrets, which I sent to the much missed Oysters and Chocolate web site. Then, I told myself to leave it alone, to look after my children and take up knitting or something. I never expected to hear back from either publisher. I certainly never expected to get both pieces taken- and I truly never expected the buzz the feeling of acceptance gave me- that was it- I was hooked- an addict to the acceptance of a publisher for the rest of my life!

It took 40 short story and poetry publications before I was brave enough to write something longer, and when I did, I cheated.

The Collector is both an anthology and a short novel- a set of different erotic stories- one for every genre within the discipline. I learnt a great deal from writing hat book- and I still hold it in great affection.

Now, 15 years later, with over 200 stories to my name, including many novellas and novels, including the gratifyingly popular The Perfect Submissive Trilogy (The Fifth Floor, The Retreat, Knowing Her Place), I am still addicted, still hungry for the ‘yes’ of a publisher. Having a back record to your name never guarantees a story will be taken, and nor should it. Each new tale I write has to be worth publication on its own merits; it shouldn’t be published just because KJB wrote it.

Over the past 5 years, I’ve had less time to write erotica as I have been fortunate to have some success with my other pen names (Jenny Kane – contemporary fiction and Jennifer Ash – medieval crime), and I’ve set up a creative writing tutoring business called Imagine, (with my friend and colleague, Alison Knight)

Kay is still here however, and I’m pleased to be able to announce that before the end of 2019, my Fem Dom anthology, Yes Ma’am will be re-edited, recovered, and re-released. As well as this, the next anthology (Book Four) in my ‘A Kink a Day’ series will be released.

Meanwhile, my Jenny Kane side is now agent-ed, and excitedly awaiting the publication of a new romcom, and Jennifer Ash is busy writing the forth of The Folville Chronicles.

As well as this, I’ll have some erotica writing workshops up and running in 2020 – so watch this space!

Victoria Blisse, Tabitha Rayne, Kay, and Kd Grace at Eroticon 2019

There are so many people who have helped get me this far. So many friends I’ve made along the way- from the wonderful Brit Babes, to fellow bloggers and writers, to readers and positive sex supporters. I’ve very lucky.

I will end by saying thank you to a few extra special people who’ve helped keep me going on those occasions when the roller-coaster has got stuck at the bottom, or the carousel as jammed on the downward motion.

Kd Grace, Lucy Felthouse, Victoria Blisse, Ashley Lister, Renee and the staff of Sh.

I honestly can’t believe I’m still writing everyday, and living the life I love so much.

THANK YOU

Kay xx

 

 

Something for the Weekend: The Collector

For this week’s #somethingfortheweekend, let’s turn to my first ever solo publication…

Something Scottish is hidden between the kinky pages of The Collector, – an anthology of twenty two stories each ‘collected’ by an anonymous narrator.

The Collector 2016 b

 

Blurb

Gathering salaciously erotic stories against an everyday backdrop of bus trips, train journeys, coffee shops, and restaurants, The Collector documents a wide variety of sexual encounters as she travels Great Britain.

The Collector’s research takes her into every arena of the erotic experience, from love, lust, submission and dominance, to voyeurism and beyond.

Are you brave enough to see if it was your supposedly private conversation she overheard – and then wrote down?

***

Extract from The Scottish Fantasy

Stacie gasped as the door opened. The dark shine to the man’s slate eyes as he regarded her and her friend Kate was in danger of taking Stacie’s breath away, and he hadn’t even spoken yet.

Tall, broad, with a tanned face and short spiked hair, a hint of stubble shadowed his square chin. Obviously surprised to see two young women walking through the woods so late on a winter’s afternoon, the ranger ushered them inside his wooden hut.

Introducing himself as Rob—Like Rob Roy! Stacie’s inner voice shouted at her. How perfect is that!—he looked at them enquiringly, ‘I dunna ken what you’re doin’ here, hens.’

Stacie’s brow furrowed. She’d thought that the Scottish spoke English.

Kate laughed as she saw her friend’s confused expression. ‘He means he doesn’t understand what we want, honey. “Dunna ken” means “don’t know” and “hen” is the local term for girl.’  Turning toward the ranger, Kate smiled. ‘This is Stacie, and I’m Kate. Stacie hasn’t got her ear geared into the local accent yet; she’s American.’

‘I guess that means an American accent.’ The ranger spoke so softly, Stacie felt herself melting on the spot. ‘I rather like those.’

Ignoring her friend, whose eyes were on stalks, leaving her in no doubt that Stacie was on an internal lust trip, Kate said, ‘We’re really sorry to bother you so late, but could you tell us where we are? We seem to be on a much longer trail than we intended to be, and we’ve lost the track.’

Rob’s dark eyes bored into her as she spoke. Kate couldn’t decide if their presence mildly amused him, or if he was merely tolerating the interruption to his work.

‘We’ve run out of water as well. Could we fill up our bottles here, please?’

‘It’s a good job you stopped, hen.’ The ranger pulled a map off his cluttered desk and pointed a thick finger at a red dotted line. ‘You’re here, on the all day walk. It’s called that for sound reasons.’

Lost in an erotic daydream, Stacie wasn’t listening to a word he said, just to the sound of his voice; the beautiful, gentle burr of his accent. She judged it fitted neatly half way between Ewan McGregor and Sean Connery.

When Kate had invited her friend over from the States for a couple of weeks exploring the Grampians of Scotland, Stacie had been thrilled. Not only could she catch up with her gorgeous friend and occasional lover, she could visit an area of the world that had always held a fantasy for her. Kilts, burly men in tight white vests, cabers being tossed, heather, whiskey, and mountains topped with snow.

The heather and mountains were a reality sure enough, as were the late night tots of warming whiskey she’d shared with Kate as they snuggled up together in the king-sized bed their Deeside hotel room provided. But until now, in this ranger’s office, hidden away in the woods near the flooded caves of Burn O’Vat, Stacie hadn’t seen anyone who even came close to the Celtic man of her late night fantasies.

Stacie felt mesmerised by the ranger. Despite the coldness of the late winter air he wore no coat, and his green sweater sleeves were rolled back to show arms honed by hard work. Forget kilts, this was as close to perfection as Stacie’s Scottish fantasy was ever going to get.

‘I’ll fill your bottles right enough, but if you’ll heed my advice, you’ll go back on the route you came. Far quicker and safer. It’ll be dark in about two hours.’

‘Thanks, I think we’ll do that.’ Kate watched as he took their empty water bottles over to his sink. His back view was as stunning as his front. The goldfish expression on Stacie’s face told her girlfriend that she was mentally undressing him, and Kate began to do the same.  Well aware that Stacie had serious fantasy issues where Scottish men were concerned, Kate wondered just how turned on her friend was. Did she have damp knickers? Were her nipples hard?

As Kate’s thoughts rambled, her own arousal began to tweak up a notch. Perhaps… She took a deep breath. Well, why not?

‘It must be lonely here, on your own all day.’ Kate knew the line was a bit lame, but she didn’t care. A sideways glance at Stacie showed that her lover had understood her intentions, and approved.

Rob didn’t look round. He didn’t need to. He could sense the two sets of eyes on his back; they were almost scorching him. Taking his time to fill the second bottle, the ranger thought the situation through.

Two of them, both hot totty. One a blonde, one a redhead. One English. One American. A tasty combination. Their bulky winter coats, sensible walking trousers and boots didn’t give much away, but he was willing to bet that once all the layers were off, they would be a sight to behold. He could be wrong, he supposed, but maybe…

Rob replied to Kate’s question. ‘I like it well enough, hen. I ken it’s quiet, but I like peace and quiet.’

‘So, you don’t get… lonely, then?’ Kate knew she was being blatant, but she didn’t care. If she could pull this off, it would be the perfect holiday present for her friend. Stacie, her mouth dry with anticipation, stepped forward. Pulling off her gloves to reveal pale hands with violently clashing purple nail-varnished tips, she took the full bottles from Rob’s hands. Making certain her fingers brushed his as she did so.

‘Thank you,’ Stacie purred as she passed one of the bottles to her partner. The tacit standoff that followed as tension rippled through the small office room-cum-workshop was eventually broken by Rob.

‘Would you lassies like something to warm you up before you go?’  His sentence, delivered in a deadpan tone, could have been suggesting something as mundane as sharing of a mug of hot chocolate, but his sparkling eyes hinted at so much more.

Stacie’s pulse quickened as Kate casually replied, ‘Well, if it’s not too much trouble, that would be lovely.’ Another normal sentence, but packed with enough eyelash-fluttering that she might as well have screamed out ‘Fuck us now!’

‘I was about to light the fire.’ Rob knelt at a small grate, already neatly piled with kindling. ‘Perhaps you’d like to lose your jackets for a while. When this takes, this place gets pretty hot.’

The girls’ eyes were drawn to the hopping, spluttering flames. They threw their coats over their backpacks, which they’d already dumped by the front door.

Taking his time with the fire, the ranger didn’t stir from where he crouched until it had taken to his satisfaction, and was smoking nicely up the chimney. Then, with a measured movement, he stood and faced his guests, who with unspoken agreement had divested themselves of far more than just their coats. Somehow Rob managed to keep his face passive as his eyes travelled from the top of each girl’s head down to their toes.

They stood naked. Holding hands. So, lovers in their own right, then. Nice. He smiled. It had been over fifteen years since he’d been with two women at the same time. A memory that kept him warm during the dark winter days and nights as he guarded the woodland and its wildlife.

Deciding against comment, Rob took a silent moment to choose which girl he’d treat rough and which one he’d simply treat. Then, with a pace that neither girl would have associated with the man whose previous movements had been so controlled and steady, he stripped…

***

The stories within The Collector vary greatly in length, style, and taste. The best way to think of it is as an erotica menu- lots of tasty tasters to help you discover which erotica works best for you. If you alike all sorts of erotica already, then you should (I hope!) like

Buy Links – Kindle

http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B01EVVGYB2?ref_=pe_2427780_160035660

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B01EVVGYB2?ref_=pe_2427780_160035660 

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Here are a couple of lovely reviews for The Collector!

‘WOW, what a GREAT book! Ms. Jaybee, the true author of THE COLLECTOR, honestly has me curious if she is, in fact, this collector. Her intros were so well written and believable that I fell under an erotic spell while reading. I didn’t LOVE every story, but I really did at least LIKE almost all of them for one reason or another. My favorites were Treasure, where a woman invites a friend of a friend back to her place so he can discover her hidden treasure; and Crushed, where a 2 (and a half) people in a standstill crowd experienced a hedonistic anonymous encounter. If I heard real life stories like these on a regular basis, I swear I would die from a state of constant arousal! … ‘ The Romance Reviews

‘Such a unique book.  The title was perfect for this book.  The Collector.  I know you are asking how I call an erotic book unique.  Well, it is because the author has such a wonderful way with writing.  I admit this is not my first Kay Jaybee book, and it will certainly not be my last.  Kaybee, is such a wonderful author.  The stories she writes are not just all sex, they each have meaning, plot, characters, challenges.  This book is no exception to her wonderful work.  Another amazing read by Jaybee.’ Bunny Reviews 

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Happy reading,

Kay x

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