December 9, 2015 § Leave a comment
Do you love butch-on-butch romance? Transmasculine lust? Genderqueer frolicking? Kinky older queers? Randy librarians? Read more about the smutty shenanigans of Behrouz and Lucky in my soon-to-be-released book Behrouz Gets Lucky.
June 30, 2015 § Leave a comment
I’m pleased to say that “Behrouz Gets Lucky” was published in Best Lesbian Erotica 2015! I’ve also completed a full-length novel about Behrouz and Lucky, our favorite older queer gadabouts and perverts, and am in the process of finding a publisher.
From the back cover:
“Best Lesbian Erotica 2015 features the fiercest, freshest lesbian erotica of the year, curated by the legendary Laura Antoniou, million-selling author of The Marteketplace series. These stories will make you want to call your girl in the middle of the afternoon and tell her things that make her squirm. Images of girlsex will take over your brain. Read these stories and you’ll be compelled by sheer erotic need.”
June 29, 2015 § Leave a comment
Excerpt from “Behrouz Gets Lucky”….read the rest in Best Lesbian Erotica 2015!
“I was 56, and long past the age of hope, young lust, love, and bewilderment. I was 56, and a time traveling, part Persian expatriate. I was 56, and had spent two years injecting testosterone into my flesh twice a month. I’d reinvented myself every seven years, but was considering settling down. I had been an outsider all my life, and felt insulated that way. Insulation is protection, but it is also isolation. Even though I lived in San Francisco, that bastion of sexual and gender freedom, I lived outside of the galaxies of the FTM, genderqueer, and leather communities. I’d hitchhiked across the country, I’d been a streetwalker, smoked opium with princes, raised children, been fisted on Twin Peaks, sung in punk bands, grew up in Iran, had threesomes with bikers and Members of British Parliament, followed family tradition and become a librarian, I’d buried one daughter and two lovers, spent decades in the Midwest, kneaded bread, got sober, been homeless, pretended to be a boy wanting to be a girl, driven across town in a blizzard at 5am to slap a gigolo who was wearing pleated black silk panties, taught preschool, attended PTA meetings, tickled grandchildren; It’s-a-long-story was my middle name.”
June 29, 2015 § Leave a comment
“The Train Trip”, a story about two dykes that have anonymous steamy sex in the bathroom of a train, was published in Sex Still Spoken Here!
“IPPY Award-winning Sex Still Spoken Here is not just a steamy, eclectic mix of hot stories, it’s also an inspiring call to action, staking another fierce claim on importance of voicing the erotic. The Erotic Reading Circle-held monthly since 2006 at San Francisco’s Center for Sex & Culture-is a community where writers put words to our complex desires and longings, and in which our erotic stories are celebrated and honored, not dismissed. This collection is culled from that Circle, representing the many writers who’ve dared to wrestle with the erotic muse.”
August 3, 2013 § Leave a comment
The OED word of the day is “moonlit”,
As an example they quote;
“1817 Shelley Laon & Cythna v. i. 93 The City’s moon-lit spires and myriad lamps.”
I’m transported into your arms,
Some times past – I’m fortunate to remember so much,
I conflagulate decades and lovers and countries;
We are in the Marv Dasht desert by fierce lightning and sodden moonlight,
Hovering in our blue van – eating chocolate, butter, and potato chip sandwiches.
We are dancing outdoors to the Rolling Stones singing Wild Horses,
Clasped in one another’s arms, the sand shifting beneath our feet,
Knowing this was just a reprieve to our leaving.
We are adrift in bed – the attic window shimmery moonlight pouring over our feet,
Reading Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment,
Later we will fight about the ending and not speak for a week.
We are walking home after eating round food,
Moonlight is our witness to devouring of another kind,
Our faces raised upwards like feral dogs,
We bathe in lunar radiance.
This minute, a woman shouts “fuck you” outside of my window,
Her voice swallowed by the sounds of six lanes of traffic,
Filtered through my desire for something – anything.
It will be dark soon,
A waft of moonlight blowing smoke through the trees,
Outside my window, their leaves sway like kelp
The magic of night and moonlight – my heart flies into your arms.