“I love you too, Jerome.  I’ll be through reading these depos before midnight. Wait up for me, won’t cha, honey?”

Penelope Moon was amazed how easily she was lying to her husband again. She was smooth, like blood seeping from an open wound. The more she did it, the more effortless it became. The key was to “KIS”-keep it simple. She took off her Bluetooth and turned to her lover.

“Does your husband feel better now?” Leon Teal moved behind Penelope, ground his huge cock between her petite buttocks and wrapped his arms tightly around her small waist.  She leaned back against Leon’s muscular chest and gazed out the window of his loft. She squinted, trying to make out the mountaintops barely visible from behind the thick ribbon of smog. A symphony of horns and police whistles drifted in from the streets below.  L.A.’s downtown day trippers were being replaced by the city’s night crawlers.

“I should have called him earlier,” she purred.  “We’d better hurry. Sorry doll.”

“Maybe we should have skipped Sayonara,” Leon sighed, “but I was starving.”

At the dimly lit restaurant, sipping sake, Leon listened rapt as she spoke of her past in Seattle District Attorney’s Office including a brush with the Green River killer case.   With her dimples flashing, her auburn bun, unraveled and set free Leon’s admiration grew-along with his hard-on.

“The University legal department must seem really boring to you now,” Leon said. Penelope shrugged and gave a faint smile. When the check came, she looked away and Leon happily snatched it up. He figured it was the least he could do. After all, Penelope had hired him, her newest University attorney, six months earlier. She was the best boss he ever had.

In his loft, Leon ran his tongue up and down the arc of her neck, the swelling in his crotch growing more demanding. She tasted like vanilla and smelled like lavender.             Penelope pushed her ass against him and moved her hips in a circular motion, keeping rhythm with Marvin Gaye’s “After the Dance” playing in softly in the background.

She turned to face him. His green eyes reminded her of the fluorescent lights on a dashboard.  His lips were moist and inviting.

Leon enveloped her mouth with a big kiss, his tongue in a wet tango with hers.

“I love Jerome,” Penelope whispered between kisses.  “He is my husband.” She paused. “Th-th-things are not perfect between us, but… we… have …a good life… together.”

Leon pulled away and held her at arms’ length. Penelope rarely talked about anything having to do with her personal life. Hearing her husband’s name was the jolt of reality, Leon did not need.

“Must you, Pen?” Leon tried not to sound wounded.

“I am not looking for absolution,” Penelope said, her eyes fastened on his. “You know I am crazy about you.”

She took his chin between her thumb and forefingers. “Don’t be mad at me, baby boy.”

She stroked his cheek with the back of one hand and started to unbutton her top with the other. Before she could finish, he slid off her blouse, pushed her bra away and massaged her small nipples in unison until they stood erect. She rubbed the bulge at his crotch and searched for the tip of his dick.

“Come on,” Leon lifted Penelope into his arms, their open mouth kisses, deeper and wetter, their tongues groping and insistent. He carried her to the bathroom and placed her on the edge of the sink.  The space smelled of patchouli oil and sex.

Penelope hiked up her skirt and lifted her legs, her thighs pressing against Leon’s chest, her ankles dangling over his shoulders. Leon inched his middle finger inside her milky cunt and another finger in her asshole.  She scooted herself further to the very edge, he thumbed her fattened clit, softly, waiting for her to squirt. She let out small cries, bucking wildly, her swollen pussy spilled sticky juice.  Leon thumbed her till she soared, whirling to an orgasmic cloud.

“Inside me, baby now,” Penelope was breathless, “please inside me, baby.”

Leon pulled out his heavy penis from his trousers and she flailed wildly at him, trying desperately to pull him to her. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, his face twisted in ecstasy, her calves squeezed his jaws.

“Do you love me Pen?” Leon held his swollen dick milliseconds from her dripping cunt.

“I-I think about you all the time. I do. I am crazy about you.” Penelope panted. “Please, please, put it in.”

Leon penetrated her and began pumping, pumping, pumping furiously, his head buried in her shoulder, his palms gripping her gyrating hips.

”Fuck me baby,” Penelope was screaming now, “yes, Leon you do it, baby, yes, work it baby work”. When he felt her pussy contract around his dick, Leon pulled out in time to ejaculate on Penelope’s breasts. He slumped over her like helium escaping a balloon.  Their gasps were swallowed up by the rhythm and blues vibrating from the sidewalks of the city.

Leon released her legs and held Penelope tight against his chest for a few minutes. He wished Penelope would not dress quickly, peck him on the cheek, call out “love you” over her shoulder and head for the door.

Leon wondered if he was more like Penelope’s husband than he would ever admit. Maybe he needed her to lie to him too.

April 10

The serene almond shaped eyes and the familiar scents of vanilla and lavender, should have tipped Leon off, but they didn’t.

“Hi ya, Popi,” the girl sang out. She was tall with huge breasts pushed up and jiggling from the top of her low cut sweater. Her skin tight skirt showed off luscious hips and a round tummy. Short black hairstyle looked as though she stepped out of the roaring twenties.  A big flower over her left ear was the same color as the burgundy on her heart shaped lips. She walked slowly towards his office and he felt swelling between his legs. He shifted in his seat.

Plucking a business card from his desk, the girl read his name aloud in a voice that sounded soaked in nicotine.

“I saw you in the cafeteria earlier, Leon Teal.” She paused. “I said to myself, ‘Girlfriend, you need to meet that dude. He looks just like Derek Jeter.’”

“Who?” Leon heard the attorney across the aisle snicker at his question.

“Boy,” the girl said, “you must be older than you look.” She smiled with teeth as straight and white as piano keys.

“Excuse me?” Leon raised an eyebrow feigning insult. “I am thirty seven. Who is this dude Derek Jeter, and how’d he get so lucky?”

“Jesus, man,” an exasperated voice yelled out. “He’s a New York Yankee.”

“Oh,” Leon shot back. “I guess I am too busy winning cases to follow sports.”

The girl comically lifted her eyes to the heavens and took a seat across from Leon’s desk. She picked up a yellow legal pad and wrote down her phone number.

“Call me Saturday, Popi, we’ll have a date okay.”

Leon quickly looked at the number and watched the girl get up and run her palms slowly over her tits and ass. Her legs were thick and sturdy, so smooth they reminded Leon of high heeled bowling pins. Leon felt his underarms begin to sweat.  She blew him a kiss. He grabbed it from the air, and pretended to throw it back.  Leon felt like butterflies were doing somersaults in his stomach. He sat and instinctively put a hand over his crotch.

April 11 8:00 am

When Leon dialed her number she answered on the first ring. “Hey you,” he said, “I didn’t get your name.”

“Maya,” she said. “It’s Hindi. It means “illusion.”

“That’s interesting,” Leon replied.

“If you pick me up in an hour,” she said, “we’ll get all the best deals.

“I’ll be there,” Leon assured her.

The Farmers Market was teeming with shoppers, hundreds of them strolling between row after row of wooden stands and carts and tailgates.  Maya went to work right away collecting extra large brown eggs, organic strawberries, juicy nectarines, plump green grapes, stacks of corn tortillas, bunches of oversized chrysanthemums and several jars of red honey. When she spotted the over-ripe avocadoes, she snatched at them as through reaching for an errant child. “Guacamole,” she announced and held them up in triumph.

“This is great Maya,” said Leon said scanning the crowd. “I’ve never been to the Farmer’s Market.”

“Ever been to The Grove?” she asked

Leon shook his head.

“What about the Staples Center?”

He shook his head again.

“For Christ sakes,” Maya was exasperated. “What about freakin’ Disneyland?”

Leon laughed and nodded vigorously.

“You grew up in L.A.? You need to get out more, Popi” She eyed him curiously, “Are you a loner?”

He thought for a moment and said, “Naw.  “I just work a lot.”

Maya shrugged.

“How old are you Maya?” He said, pulling her to him.

“How old do I look?” She looked up with a serious expression.

“’Bout eighteen.”

“Good answer, Popi,” she giggled. “I am twenty-four.”

Leon hoped to sound diplomatic when he asked, “What actually do you do, for a living, I mean?”

Maya gave him a peck that left the shape of her red lipstick on his jaw. “I paint…I draw…and I dream.  That’s what I do.”

“Pays the bills, I guess?”

“You could say that,” Maya said mysteriously.

They walked and talked leisurely. Leon told Maya about Tiffany, his high school sweetheart he wanted to marry.

“But she couldn’t wait for me to do college and then law school.  She wanted a family.” His voice was filled with regret. “She dumped me for an older guy. I think he was in real estate.”

He paused. “She was a good egg.”

“I can’t believe she let a sexy dude like you get away,” Maya said earnestly.

“Well I don’t know about that,” Leon said.  “When I won my first case-I nailed a popular priest for molesting kids-it was all over the papers. Thought I might hear from her then, but I didn’t.”

“I guess we all have that one that got away.” Maya quickly changed the subject. She knew from experience, talking about exes to a guy you want to be your boyfriend was no win situation.

“I want to visit every country on every continent.” She waved her arms as if commanding the seas. “Beginning in India.”

“Can I go with you?” Leon’s green eyes were twinkling.

“Sure you don’t have to work?” She laughed.

It dawned on Leon the last time he strolled hand in hand, was when he was a boy. Back in the day, with Tiffany. He had never held hands with a woman, only with girls.   He wouldn’t dream of public displays of affections with Penelope. Too risky.  With Maya, it seemed perfectly natural to touch and be close.

It was just about noon when they got back to Maya’s place. Leon went straight to the bathroom to relieve himself. When he got back to the living room it was as if he had stepped into a séance. There were candles and incense every where, the fragrances so overwhelming they made Leon dizzy.

“Lay back, Popi,” Maya put a joint to his lips and he hit it. She was completely nude, save for a belly dancer’s chain around her waist. She scooted between his thighs and unzipped his jeans. Leon stood briefly, and she helped him yank his pants and boxers away in one swoop. She eased off his shirt and pulled him back down to a sitting position, his legs splayed.  She gave him the weed again, and he took a deep inhale. Maya roughly handled his dick and put it in her mouth as far as it would go. She sucked him until he was as hard as granite. Leon felt like an eagle, soaring high above earth, his mind floating, weightless, and unhinged.

“A butterfly?” Leon glanced down at huge colorful wings covering her ass, the head of a butterfly peeking out from her crack.

“Painted it myself.”  She circled the tip of her tongue around the head of his penis and tasted droplets of semen. When he was about to explode she lowered herself down on him with a groan, until they were face to face,

“Slap it Popi,” Maya was breathless riding him, his face buried between her enormous rack. “Slap my ass, Popi,” she bellowed. The pop of his hand against her flesh reverberated throughout her apartment. She yelped in delight with every strike.

They screwed until the daylight dissolved into dusk. They came simultaneously over and over gain. Each time Maya let out a guttural howl.

“Woo Leon,” she panted. “You’re delicious.”

They spent the rest of the day butt naked, drinking strawberry mimosas and smoking joints. Maya cut and deep fried the tortillas and added avocado and salsa for nachos. The melted cheese nearly burned their lips and they ate and laughed till their stomachs ached.

Later, they went online and searched for other couples who wanted to watch them fuck. Maya’s camera was set to an elderly pair’s site who wanted Leon and Maya to “do the 69”. Leon was overwhelmed. He never knew such things existed. Most he did with his computer was send emails, write briefs and pay bills.

Night arrived and they collapsed, but not before devouring chilled strawberries dipped in white chocolate.  Leon remembered the question he had been meaning to ask.

“Were you by yourself at the University when you said you saw me in the cafe?”

“I meet my mom once in a blue moon for lunch,” Maya said drowsily.  “We don’t get along that well. She is really uptight.”

“Your mother works at the university?” Leon was surprised.

“Yeah, she has been there since I was a kid,” Maya wished Leon would stop asking about her mother. The last thing she wanted to talk about after a day of good screwing was her mom.

“Since you were a kid? What does she do at the university?”

Maya let out a loud yawn. “Can we talk about this later?”

“Yeah, sure,” Leon said.  “One more question:  “What’s your mother’s name?”

“Penelope Moon,” Maya said. “Good night love.”

Listening to Maya’s soft snores, Leon could not believe what was happening.  How could he be in bed with Penelope’s daughter? Seven months ago, he was at home jacking off to Seven Eleven porno. And now, a mother and daughter are his lovers?  Two beautiful women, so different, and they both wanted him?  He couldn’t believe it.  He figured it was the gods’ way of rewarding him for years of horny nights at home all alone.

May 3

More than once Leon wished he could combine the two women and create one perfect partner.  Penelope was sexy in a calm, mature way. With her he felt like an anxious student as she doled out lessons on life and law. It didn’t even bother him when he caught Penelope in little white lies. Like when she said she sold jewelry at Saks to put herself through law school.  Another time she said her parents paid for her education and she never had to work.

With Maya, he felt like her comrade in a world of sexual adventures. The two of them spent hours online searching for voyeur sites, buying sexy lingerie at the Pleasure Chest, making love on the beach or in his office before sunrise. They had recently decided to try a threesome.

Leon was happier than he had been in years. He was madly in love with both women. And, even if he did have a best friend to talk to about his good fortune, he would never kiss and tell. Not like those clowns in the office. Usually when a man bragged about all the pussy he was getting, he wasn’t getting shit. All talk, no cock. So Leon kept his business to himself.

“It’s the quiet ones you have to look out for,” his mother used to say, “They’re the ones getting all the nooky.” Leon wondered if Derek Jeter was having this much fun.

June 1

“I am pregnant.”

The shock of her words was like a baseball bat to the stomach and Leon almost hit the guardrail on the 405.

“Are you sure…” Leon could not get out the two most important words, “it’s mine?” Maya’s friends she called lovers and lovers she called friends were an open secret between she and Leon.

They were driving back from a visit to the Getty Center. Maya had told him there was an isolated spot on the grounds where she wanted him to eat her pussy. When they arrived there, a guard waved them away.

“Lots of folks must have had the same idea we did,” Maya laughed. She had to settle for being eaten out in the far parking lot of the museum.

“Are you sure?”   He weaved in and out of traffic, desperate to reach the nearest exit.

“Positive. I have been pregnant before,” Maya was matter of fact. “But I am keeping this one. What’s the matter Popi?”

“Nothing,” he grumbled. “I mean this is just a surprise. More like a shock.”

“Well don’t flip out yet, baby,” she reached under the wheel and stroked his penis.

He cursed himself for not wearing a rubber. Whenever he tried, Maya would tell him there was nothing to worry about “I want to feel all of you,” she told him. “A condom is like swimming with a raincoat on.”

“I have to pee.” Leon turned into a Shell gas station.  He jogged to the men’s room and once inside he splashed cold water on his face.  He held on to the sink and took several deep breaths before heading back to the Expedition.

“Are you all right,” Maya leaned in and reached to undo his fly and whispered in his ear,. “You know what they say, “pregnant pussy is the best pussy.”

Leon let out a groan, “Maya, please be serious for once.”  She stuck out her lips in pout.

“No matter, what happens,” Leon said, “I’ll be there for you. Seriously, I will take care of you no matter what. I’ll do the right thing. I love you.”

“I know Leon,” Maya unzipped him. “I believe you.”  He pulled to the side of the station, rolled up the darkened windows and locked the doors.  She took him into her mouth and gave him one of the best blow jobs he ever had.

June 15

When Maya said she was pregnant, it was an emotional earthquake for Leon. Weeks later, when Penelope told Leon, “I am going to have a baby,” it was a sudden, mind numbing aftershock.

June 24

Sitting across from Penelope in his bathtub, Leon noticed tiny lines around the corners of her eyes he had never seen before. Her hair was slicked back to her shoulders, her tiny breasts felt bigger and firmer than even a few weeks before. Taking on an oval shape, her stomach was smooth and hard. She was glowing from her rosy cheeks to the insides of her ripening thighs.

“I never undress in front of Jerome now,” she sounded worried. “He doesn’t say anything. Sometimes I get scared.  After two decades of marriage I know him better than he knows himself.  But how much is a man supposed to take?”

When Penelope told Leon that her husband had a vasectomy, years earlier, he realized he had entered a dangerous and unpredictable realm. He shuddered.  Penelope could not even pretend that the baby was her husband’s even if she wanted to. But Leon did not want her to pretend.  He wanted to shout from the mountaintops they were in love and having a child. Maybe a son.

“My body’s changing,” Penelope sighed. “Can you imagine me a big woman?”

“I’ll love you no matter what size you are.” He pulled her atop him. Leon held the back of her head and gave her a long, probing kiss.  They played with each other other’s tongues and nibbled each other lips like playful, hungry kittens.

“I never thought it would get to this,” Penelope slithered away to the other side of the tub.  “I have so much to tell you.  So much I want you to know about me.”

“I have things I want to tell you too.” Leon was wondering when would be a good time to tell Penelope about her daughter.   How could her tell Maya was also his lover, and she too could be pregnant with his child too?  He cared so very much for Maya. But he was in love with Pen.

Leon’s watch beeped and when he looked at it he could not believe they had been in the tub for two hours. The water was lukewarm and the only remnants of the once voluminous bubbles were the scent of lilac and musk.

“It is getting late,” Penelope said.  “I’d better get going.”

“What are you going to tell Jerome?” Leon could not mask the anxiety in his voice. He wanted her husband to know that as soon as possible. He wanted the world to know they were going to be together.

“I’ll tell him I showered at the gym,” Penelope answered, misunderstanding his question.

“No,” Leon said.  “I mean when are you going to tell your husband, that you’re… you’re leaving.”

“Oh,” Penelope gazed at the water for a few seconds before she answered in a soft tone. “I will tell him tomorrow, at breakfast.  I have rehearsed it hundreds of times in my mind.”

“Are you sure you are ready for this, Leon?”

“I am ready,” he said.

She lifted her leg to step out of the tub but Leon held on to her wrist. “I want to see you cum one more time,” he said.

He pulled her down into his lap and spread her legs.  He positioned her pussy right under the faucet, opened up her lips and turned the water on. Holding her arms from behind, he watched her move her hips thrust as the rushing water sprayed her juicy pearl.

“Ah, ah, ah, baby,” Penelope moaned. “Baby, it is…”

“Go head and get it baby,” Leon urged, “get it good girl.”

The warm water hitting her clit made goose bumps rise on her skin, her nails, dug deep into Leon’s arms leaving a mark.  After she came, he turned off the water and mounted her, stroking  as hard as he could, his ass high in the air with every thrust.

“Goddamn,” Leon hollered out when he could hold back his load no longer.

Their came in a duet, their violent orgasms stilled the waters.

That night was the first time Penelope mentioned her age, “pregnant and forty-two” she said scornfully.  It was also the first time she mentioned Maya, or Marie the name she gave her daughter at birth.

“We are waiting for Marie to find herself,” Penelope sounded weary. “She is really quite a talented artist, but she is rebellious and unfocused.  She’s an only child, in her own world. We’ve been paying her way for years,” Penelope shook her head.

Leon always connected Penelope and Maya in his mind, but hearing Pen say her daughter’s name, was weird and unsettling. They were not just two women, they were mother and daughter, connected by blood and love and so much more. And if they both had his kids, what would the children be related? Brothers or grandkids or aunts or uncles?

July 15

It was as if Penelope Moon had vanished from the face of the earth.

Dozens of Leon’s phone calls, emails, even notes slid under the door at work, all went unanswered. One day he called Maya, peppering her with questions about how she was feeling.  She admitted to no morning sickness or fatigue.  Leon casually inquired if she had seen her parents lately.

“Unfortunately,” Maya said, “They had Fourth of July barbecue yesterday and they demanded I attend. I can’t stand their uppity, meat eating friends.” She sounded disgusted.

“So everybody’s okay?” Leon wanted to add “Why won’t your mom call me back?” but of course he could not.

“Mom looks like she gaining a little weight, finally. Probably all that pork eat,” Maya laughed.

July 20

The man standing at Leon’s door was tall and slender, wearing a Panama style hat, sad eyes framed by thick black glasses, his hands stuck deep into the pockets of his tan linen jacket.

“I am Jerome Moon.”

Leon wasn’t sure if he should invite him in or slam the door in his face.

“Can I come in?” Jerome said.

“Ah, ah sure,” Leon stood in the doorway for a few seconds staring at Jerome. He held out his hand to the older man who shook it. Jerome’s hand felt rough and Leon caught a whiff of whiskey when he passed.

“I know about you and my wife.” Jerome’s voice was low and steady. “She sent me here to talk to you.”

Leon fought to steal his nerve. “I don’t know what you are talking about,” he said.   “Penelope Moon and I are just friends,” he replied

“You’re shaking and giving yourself away, son,” Jerome looked over the top of his black frames.

The two men sat in silence for a few long moments.  Leon felt like he was floating above his body, watching the scenario play out from up in the air.

“Do you want something to drink? Leon said at last. Jerome shook his head, and fixed his eyes on Leon who gradually became aware of his cell phone vibrating in his pocket.

The caller id read Maya. Leon mentally debated whether or not to take the call. The phone stopped buzzing for a few seconds and started up again.

“Excuse me,” Leon said.  Leon moved toward the balcony. What freaking timing.  This guy comes to confront me about having and affair with his wife, and his daughter who I am also fucking calls at that very moment. Shit, will this get any more bizarre?

Jerome nodded.

“Hey, babe,” Leon hoped he sounded carefree, not sounding like a man who a gun to his head.

“Got some news for you Popi,” Maya was shouting over Madonna blaring in the background.

“Where are you honey?” Leon could see Jerome sitting patiently. He had removed his hat and put it on his lap.

“At Smooth’s in Long Beach,” Maya yelled. “Hey dude, it was a false alarm.  I am not preggers after all. Let’s celebrate.”

Leon dropped the phone and quickly retrieved it.   “What do you mean, baby girl, I thought you were sure?”

“I thought I was sure too,” Maya said. “I finally went to the doctor and they said no way.  They told me to take my birth control pills religiously. If I skip my pills, I miss my period.”

Leon knew she was lying. She had told him she had been pregnant before and that she was absolutely sure this time.  He felt relieved and angry at the same time. Did she really think she was pregnant or was she just playing a game?  Did she have an abortion? Leon did not know what to believe.

“Look, I’ve got to handle some business now,” Leon ran his hand over his face, “but I’ll call you back.”

“No,” she shouted.”Don’t call me back, dude, meet me here.”  Maya described breathlessly how she had introduced herself to a couple visiting from Germany. They were more than willing, so she had invited to her place for a foursome.

“We can be international swingers, Popi. Have you ever done the group thing?”

Leon assured her he had not. Before hanging up, he promised to call her after he finished his business.

“I’ll be waiting,” Maya yelled. “I think you will really like the girl. She looks like me, only she’s blonde.”

Leon felt like he was moving in slow motion. Back in the living room, Jerome Moon was already on his feet.

“The gig’s up, son,” Jerome Moon said. “Maya and I are going back to Seattle; raise this baby as a family.” Jerome’s tired eyes waited for a reaction from Leon.  “Law says this baby is mine.”

“You can’t do this,” Leon sounded helpless. “It’s my baby. Penelope loves me.”

“You think she loves you?” Jerome smirked.  “You’re a bigger fool than you look.”

Leon felt the blood rush to his face. He wanted to punch Jerome’s lights out.

Leon decided to go for the jugular. “She doesn’t want you anymore.  You can’t please her the way I can.”

“Is that what she told you, son?” Jerome asked.

“Stop calling me son,” Leon’s voice was raised. “She didn’t have to tell me. Let her go old man. You can’t even have kids. She told me about your vasectomy,” Leon suddenly felt bold, his anger at Maya fueling his desire to humiliate her father.

“You’d better slow your roll, guy,” Jerome said, his words were hard and cold.

“I have been through this before in Seattle with a guy like you,” Jerome looked Leon up and down. “He got mad when it was over and tried to ruin my wife’s reputation. That’s when we moved to L.A.”

Leon could not believe what he was hearing.

“My wife just gets a lil feisty, a lil bored,” Jerome said, his hands stuffed deep into his pants pockets. “After twenty-seven years of marriage, boredom can set in. Sometimes, well, I mean, sometimes she strays. But she always comes back to me.  Know what I mean?”

Leon remained silent.

“Naw, you don’t know anything about marriage and what keeps people for better or worse,” Jerome said. “You are just out for a good time.”

Jerome tipped his hat and said, “And now that she is with child, she is back where she belongs. With her husband.”

July 4,  a year later Seattle, Washington

Maya looked lovingly at her baby brother in her arms.  “Well, you’ve got your mother’s nose, that’s for sure,” she cooed.  “But where on earth did you get those green eyes?”

Maya had always thought her father had himself fixed years ago, so Mom could concentrate on her career. Why else was she an only child?  When Maya asked her mother about it, Penelope replied, “Whatever gave you that idea, darling? We used birth control all these years. Little Noah is a pleasant surprise.”

Noah’s green eyes brought Leon Teal to Maya’s mind.  What the hell ever happened to Popi?  She called him for three weeks straight, seven or eight times a day, but he would never call her back. The last straw was when someone called security when she went to Leon’s office.

“Usually guys disappear when you tell them you’re pregnant, not when you tell them you are not,” she smiled at Noah. Oh well, Maya thought, no worries.  She was having a great time with the Germans and she was so happy they had decided to move to the L.A. permanently.

July 4 Los Angeles

His home phone was ringing again and Leon did what he always did-he ignored it.  Leon’s first day off work in two weeks saw him, sipping Jack Daniels and watching a black girl and an Asian girl dressed like nurses, feeling each other up and tongue kissing on his TV.  Leon had the video on mute while he listened to “Distant Lover” on his stereo.

With the crescent moon shining into his loft, Leon reflected on the price he paid to love and be loved.

Last year he was making love to two amazing women. Today, another man was raising his child (was it a son?) and he had no idea where Penelope was.  Should he track Penelope and Jerome down, go to court, demand his parental rights?

What judge in his right mind would give me custody?  Leon fast forwarded the video.  The law says any child born during a marriage automatically belonged to the two people in the involved. In reality Leon had no rights. And this fact was like a shank to Leon’s heart.

And Maya…what a beautiful liar she was.  Was she ever pregnant? Leon felt like such a sucker. He was so embarrassed, he refused to see her or take her calls.  She was an illusion, just like her goddamn name.  “Be careful what you wish for,” Leon sang in tune with Distant Lover “you just might get it.”

On the video, a large white man had joined the two women. The Asian girl was giving him head and the black girl was butt fucking him with a pink dildo.  These images left Leon’s pecker soft and uninterested.

After turning off the porno, Leon turned up the volume on his answering machine. He yawned at the stream of messages from his law interns, telemarketers and charity organizations asking for money. The last message made Leon do a double take. He could not believe what he was hearing.

“Leon, is this really you? Oh my God, I have been trying to find you,” the familiar voice said,  “It’s me, Tiffany Sole, well you know me as Tiffany Ryan, from San Pedro High.  I can’t wait to talk to you. Call me.”

© 2010 Moxie Rich

Moxie Rich is the pen name of a Los Angles based writer, whose credits include articles in Seventeen Magazine, American Sexuality journal and assorted blogs and websites. A popular public speaker, Moxie Rich lectures to women around the U.S. about body image, dating violence and popular culture. She has appeared on BET and NPR, among other media outlets.

Currently teaching college level writing and critical thinking classes, in her free time Moxie loves to travel, collect antique books, Pilates and power walking.

Moxie Rich, whose motto is “gardez votre sang froid” (stay calm), is working on a collection of sexy short stories. Her next tale titled “Date Robbers” features two bombshell bandits, prowling for love and money in the wealthy  playgrounds of Los Angeles

via SexyArtGallery.com

In the realm of female erotica, that which is written for women by women, this anthology is a staple and is published – without fail – each year. Sometimes I wonder how this is maintained. Surely there are only so many erotic stories that can be published each year? With Violet Blue at the helm, this anthology simply grows and grows, reaching new readers. It also helps that its editor has made appearances on shows like Oprah.

If I could sum up this book in one sentence, I would say the following: this is an erotic round the world trip that captures the light, dark and in-between. In my view, this anthology captures the essence of women – through its female characters – charting territory that is bold, risqué, erotic, but most of all, new.

Beginning with, what appears to be, an ordinary tale about a woman’s commute via the Underground, we have a story that operates on fetishism. Shoe Shine at Liverpool Street Station (Scarlett French) is a first person tale about an average train journey that takes a strange turn when our protagonist decides on a shoe shine. This isn’t a story of customary penetrative sex. Rather, it is a story that is about leaving it all to the imagination. It speaks of affect over effect. The reader can almost smell the boot polish and leather. This tactile story explores a public encounter – with clothes.

In the realm of food and, to a large extent, fresh produce. Vegging (K D Grace) is what the title suggests. The story details one woman’s infernal lust for her neighbor, sneaking into his vegetable patch to intimately acquaint herself with his vegetables -until he finds out. What we get, as readers, is the earthy aroma of the farm from the mud to the vegetation. This is a story that spends more time on the sensuality of distant attraction before moving closer to the character’s erotic target.

In terms of distance, Timbre (Angela Caperton) is an erotic story that escapes the traditional mode. Firstly, there is no direct flirtation between its central character and the object of desire. Secondly, the plot is clever in that it is a new twist on the theme of technological distance; our central character is intrigued by the masculine voice on a surveillance recording. Lastly, the conclusion may not be ‘happily ever after’. We do not really know the outcome, but it is the anticipation of an outcome, one that the author allows us the liberty of creating.

So far, there are three different stories that offer distinct erotic elements that differ from each other. Further along this erotic treasure trove, there are more stories that detail the significantly intimate – by way of a foursome – in Stripped (Anastasia Mavromatis), or one alternative title I could suggest: three men and a lady (in a super hot sexual clinch). This is a room mate story but it goes so much further.

In Thin Walls (Aimee Herman), we are given a detailed account of a man overhead masturbating. It is both erotic and uncomfortable, yet realistic enough to have us nodding at the assumptions made by the character whose fantasy is on sexual overdrive, providing us with an intimate account of her own sexual vista as well as what she projects on her masturbating male neighbor.

These are the few but each story presents erotic dimensions that vary in their intensity yet serve a significant enough dollop of eroticism to make us cry out for more. Thankfully this anthology is published annually without fail. Violet Blue’s introduction is aptly titled, ‘The Chocolate Taster’. Without desiring to use the Forrest Gump chocolate box analogy, if every story in this anthology were a chocolate, we would have quite a box! The good thing about Best Women’s Erotica 2010 is that the anthology takes you all around the world: figuratively and erotically. And there are only good things to be said about Best Women’s Erotica.

Best Women’s Erotica is published by Cleis Press and is available through most major booksellers as well as via online sellers like Amazon or (if you desire free postage) Book Depository.

© 2010 Aria Black

Aria likes – in no particular order – vampire myth, Middle English poetry, writing and Salman Rushdie.

One of the most prolific editors and writers of erotica today, Alison Tyler has assembled Pleasure Bound, 22 steamy stories of partners in the throes of pleasurable restraint. Intricately secured by ropes, locked in handcuffs, wrapped in leather, or bound simply by a lover’s command, these men and women crave control, whether given or received. From start to finish, this solid collection of BDSM stories earns its kinky merit badge for its explicit tales of pleasure and pain. Featuring work by Thomas Roche, Diana St. John, Sommer Marsden, Shanna Germain, and other erotic masters, the stories grab the reader and leave them begging for more — and bound and determined to turn their own bondage fantasies into tightly-controlled reality.

Review:

Bound, helpless, your heart pounds loud and out of control, your skin tingles, what is he going to do to you? Fear makes your blood race through your body along with something else…anticipation…need…pleasure.

To me that’s being Pleasure Bound and the stories in this collection of bondage erotica take that tingle, that thrill and run with it, expand on, do tricks with it because bondage is that and so much more.

Bondage can be delightfully romantic and sensual like in “Handfast” or it can take a surprising turn like in Tyler’s own “Stickler for Details” or can be a little haunting as the experience was in “Once More Beneath the Exit Sign”.

Most of the stories are compelling and ring true with a touch of honesty erotica doesn’t always offer, perhaps because in the forward we are told that these are “true” tales, confessions, real life experiences of bondage, discipline, domination, and submission.

These stories will captivate your attention, perhaps even conquer you, lure you into the world of domination and submission. You’ll be tied to this book until you are finished and even then, you may want more. It wouldn’t be the first time erotica has given a reader the courage to experiment with making their own fantasies flesh.

Whether you live the lifestyle, dabble in it periodically or are just in the mood for something a little less vanilla to fantasize about this book offers a varied look at the wide array of ways you can be “Pleasure Bound”

Alison Tyler knows how to mix up the tales in her books and always offers a wide variety of different experiences on any one topic, I love her collections and always look forward to the depth and eroticism that many of the stories have that she chooses for her collections. Even if I’m not into the subject matter I can enjoy the sensuality, the sexuality and the thrill that something “different” can offer.

© 2010 Roxanne Rhoads

Roxanne Rhoads is a freelance writer, erotica author, poet, and editor She writes everything from articles to web content. She is interested in all things sexual so her writing focuses mainly on topics involving sex including; erotic fiction and poetry, how to articles, product reviews, female sexuality, and female sexual rights. A sexual connoisseur and creature of the night, She is an outwardly quiet person who best expresses herself with the written word. If she wants you to know or believe something about her it will appear in her writing. A lady must always have secrets and she guards hers closely. A voyeur at heart she lurks in the shadows learning the secrets of others while she remains a mystery.

Roxanne’s writing has appeared in Playgirl Magazine, on Tit-elation.com, JustusRoux.com, Oysters and Chocolate (Online) and The Erotic Woman (Online). You can learn more about her at Roxanne’s Realm, My Space and her group for erotica readers and writers, Erotica Lovers.

For more information about Gernot’s images and any potential sales, click here.

Images © Gernot via SexyArt Gallery.

Image: Troyt Coburn/Sunday Magazine

Here, we have a spanking tour de force for any curiosity, appetite, and sexual preference. And to that end, Rachel Kramer Bussel offers Bottoms Up, another delicious collection of stories that celebrates the pleasures of an inviting bum turned rosy red by hand, crop, whip, or paddle. Whether written from the perspective of the spanker or the spankee, those who crave discipline or those discovering for the first time how good being bad can feel, each vivid tale trembles with erotic pleasure. Bottoms Up is essential reading for those with endless capacities to have their bare bottoms soundly smacked, those who revel in delivering the deliciously ecstatic pain to a lover, or those who simply believe in turning the other cheek — over and over and over again.

I’m not much for spanking kink so I was pretty sure this was not going to be a collection of erotica that I would particularly enjoy.

My hopes were raised though when I checked the table of contents to see there were stories by Gwen Masters and several other familiar erotic authors who know how to deliver sensual, sultry tales of many flavors…and make them all taste amazing.

So finally I decided to just dive in and start reading.

To my surprise and delight most of the stories were written in such a way that I could enjoy the sheer eroticism of the tale not just the spanking parts. In Bottoms Up I found a wide variety of spanking tales from stories featuring playful taps to mild sadomasochism to hardcore BDSM- a little something for everyone who enjoys a good whack every now and then. There are stories from all perspectives- giving, receiving, and even just watching.

There are stories with fun role playing, interesting perspectives, swingers, subs and doms, wistful tales and teaching tales but they all have one thing in common- someone is going to end up red cheeked but satisfied. I found Bottoms Up to be an interesting collection and a delightful look into a world I haven’t explored yet.

Bottoms Up is kinda like a guide book for spanking. It gives you a little taste of many different types; it shows you what’s out there and gives you a sample of many possible ways to enjoy it.

Whether you regularly play the game, fantasize about it or are just spankcurious- this book is something you will definitely enjoy.

List of stories and authors:

A Thousand Words by Donna George Storey
The Hardest Part by Alison Tyler
A Firm Understanding by Elizabeth Coldwell
Prime Time by Teresa Noelle Roberts
Ass Worship by Jerry Arthur
The Purple Balloon by Tess Danesi
Sorority Sister by Dominique Dunbar
Days by Simon Sheppard
Bossy by Sommer Marsden
Oscar and Holly by Bill Kte’pi
Lonnie’s Licks by Tenille Brown
The Swinging Spankers Club by Stan Kent
Reenactment by Zille Defeu
Confessor by Craig J. Sorensen
The Spanking Machine by Rachel Kramer Bussel
Stuffing the Ballot Box by Andrea Dale
Tease for Two by Maddy Stuart
I’m Going to Grab Your Hair by N. T. Morley
Flaming by Jean Roberta
Helping Those in Need by Gwen Masters

Book Trailer:

© 2010 Roxanne Rhoads

Roxanne Rhoads is a freelance writer, erotica author, poet, and editor She writes everything from articles to web content. She is interested in all things sexual so her writing focuses mainly on topics involving sex including; erotic fiction and poetry, how to articles, product reviews, female sexuality, and female sexual rights. A sexual connoisseur and creature of the night, She is an outwardly quiet person who best expresses herself with the written word. If she wants you to know or believe something about her it will appear in her writing. A lady must always have secrets and she guards hers closely. A voyeur at heart she lurks in the shadows learning the secrets of others while she remains a mystery.

Roxanne’s writing has appeared in Playgirl Magazine, on Tit-elation.com, JustusRoux.com, Oysters and Chocolate (Online) and The Erotic Woman (Online). You can learn more about her at Roxanne’s Realm, My Space and her group for erotica readers and writers, Erotica Lovers.

If you have a few extra to spare, you can visit Christie’s to view this work and indulge in glam art.
The current collection that is up for auction at Christie’s  on 30th June includes works that feature eroticism, fashion, portraiture and landscapes.

For more information and bidding, visit Christie’s.

Images © Jeanloup Sieff

Her own photographic oeuvre began with a bout of influenza suffered by Helmut Newton in Paris, 1970. June Newton had her husband show her how to handle the camera and light meter and in his place photographed an advertisement for the French cigarette brand Gitanes. The portrait of the smoking model would be the jumpstart of a new career. In the early 1970s, Alice Springs shot several campaigns for the French hair stylist Jean Louis David; the photographs appeared under her byline as full-page ads in renowned fashion magazines. 1974 later saw the first Alice Springs cover image adorning French Elle.

By this time she had also received innumerable commissions for portraits, some of which have become iconic. The roster of artists, actors and musicians depicted by Alice Springs over the last 40 years reads like a “who’s who” of the international cultural scene on both sides of the Atlantic. Many portraits were magazine assignments from Paris to Los Angeles; others resulted from private initiative.

Alice Springs does more than document the appearance of celebrities and anonymous contemporaries; she captures their charisma, their aura. Her eye for people is mostly concentrated on people’s faces. Occasionally she narrowly frames her subjects in a half- or three-quarters’ length portrait, where the hands receive special attention as well. It might be that her deep knowledge of acting helps, how to simultaneously look at and beyond the human façade. This is particularly evident in her double portraits, in which the protagonists’ interaction is perfectly staged.

There is a certain sense of familiarity in her images; actually they oscillate between distance and intimacy. In her subtle portraits we encounter the haughty stance alongside natural self-confidence as well as the shy glance. Dramatic poses are seldom, and the process occurs without grand gestures on the part of the photographer. Her images are visual commentaries that interpret the photographed.

Exhibition Opening: 11 June 2010

Exhibition from: 12 June 2010

For more information: Helmut Newton Foundation

This colorful artwork aims at expressing the playful, epitomizing the maxim of sex positive through color, expression and verve.

Images © Lior Ron, via  SexyArtGallery