I absolutely adore Photographer: Braden Summers images. He captures, beautifully, the love these couples have for one another. Here are a few of my favorite pictures. To view more, click on his name above. Thank you! 🏳️🌈
Tag Archives: LGBT
Seattle Bloodbath by G.E. Stills (Book Showcase)
Volume 3 in the Demon Slayers series
The demon Tiona has escaped Kiya and her team in Oklahoma. She has gone to Seattle, Washington where the band Kiya manages is scheduled to perform. Tiona is determined to destroy Kiya, first because she hates witches, and second, for killing her demon son. The demon terror plots Kiya’s demise along with those associated with her and this time the band itself will not escape unscathed. Disappointed at not encountering Tiona in Oklahoma, Kiya and her team go to Seattle unaware that Tiona is already there and preparing to strike. The coming confrontation will be deadly and costly for both sides.
For the 18+ reader: Strong language and descriptive sex scenes.
Ona has been converted and now serves her demon Mistress, Tiona, without question. Max will be the first of the musical family to suffer Tiona’s wrath, he won’t be the last.
Tiona peered down from a high point in the upper tier of seating at the concert going on down on the stage. Ona was circulating through the crowds below. Neither of them had occupied the assigned seats stated on their passes. Those had just been used as a way to gain entrance to the packed auditorium. Without much hope, she scanned the mass searching for Kiya.
She wanted information desperately but getting it might be a tricky problem. They couldn’t just walk up and ask someone. She had little hope that Ona would be able to hook up with one of the band members even though they were notorious for partying after their shows: not here with these masses of beautiful women to choose from. Even though Ona was devastatingly gorgeous herself the odds were unfavorable.
Tiona scanned the throng again and smiled, but she had an alternate plan. Ona’s scorpion parasite allowed her to communicate with the woman mentally. “Where are you?” Tiona asked.
“Forcing my way through the masses,” Ona answered, “But I’m nearing the north end of the stage. As you ordered earlier, I’m searching for one of the band’s roadies to try and hook up with.”
“Let me know when you find one,” Tiona said and went back to searching.
“I will my Mistress,” Ona answered.
As she observed, Tiona thought of the plan. The chances of Ona getting in with one of the band members was remote, but seducing one of the roadies would probably be successful. Getting information from him would be easy if things went according to plan. Tiona strolled to a new location and continued her search.
“I think I spotted one,” Ona’s thought filtered into her mind. “He’s the beefy blonde at the north end near the back of the stage.”
Tiona focused her enhanced vision in the area Ona indicated. The man wearing tight blue jeans and a t-shirt with the band’s logo stenciled on it was standing near the stage with a prop in hand. “I see him. Go to work sweetie. Lure him in.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
***
Ona forced her way closer to the man garnering a looks of displeasure and a few rude comments as she did. She ignored them and focused on her target instead. Her scorpion companion allowed past knowledge to dribble out of the recesses of her mind. The name Franz flashed into her thoughts although she couldn’t remember what her relationship with him had been. What she could remember was Franz had once been a roadie and had shared his memories of the occupation with her.
She used this knowledge to strike up a conversation with the man whose name she soon learned was Max. At first their conversation centered on the band but Ona steered it to what Max did. Ona used her knowledge to ask intelligent questions of him and of course showered flattery on him. When he was looking away at the stage, Ona smiled, during their conversation Max couldn’t keep his gaze from drinking in her body largely revealed by her scanty outfit. The deep V of her dress dipped low enough to reveal her navel piercing and barely cover her red areolas. The red dress with splotches of white ended a third of the way down her thighs when she was standing. Black high heels completed her outfit. Her G-string panties were black as well but she hadn’t show those to him…not yet.
While Max was occupied with handing a prop up to the man on stage she unclipped the silver chain that held the halves of her dress over her breasts. He turned back to face her and she twisted quickly to glance at a noise in the audience. Her action caused her left breast to spill from under its scanty covering affording him a brief view of her nipple piercing. Ona turned back to face him and pretended embarrassment at having exposed her breast. She quickly covered it and continued their conversation. By the end of the concert she had provided him views of both breasts and bending over to retrieve her purse she had purposely dropped, afforded him a glimpse of her bare ass.
The band left the stage and the crowd started to file out of the auditorium. “Well the show is over. I’ll be riding back to the hotel with the rest of the roadies soon. It’s been nice talking to you Ona. Most of my conversations here are about the band members and how to get access to them.”
Ona placed her hand on his bicep. “I really enjoy taking with you Max. I hate to end the evening.” She paused as if considering. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in continuing our visit over cocktails and a bar I know of?”
Max scratched his chin. “I love to but I’d miss my ride.”
“I have a car. I can take you back to the hotel after. Damn,” She dropped her purse and stooped to pick it up. In the process, her breasts spilled free. It was all the incentive Max needed. Ona could read his mind through the look in his eyes. “He wants to fuck me badly. Guess what Max? you’re going to get the chance to do just that.” Her thought reached out to Tiona.
“Good girl,” Tiona thought back.
“Let me tell one of the guys I won’t be riding back in the van,” Max said. “Wait right here.”
“He’s hooked,” Ona told Tiona while she waited. “We’re leaving in the car.”
“I’ll go out and get in the trunk,” Tiona answered.
Max returned and slipped his hand in hers. When they left the auditorium, he let her guide him to the car and slid into the passenger seat. Ona slipped into the seat pretending to drive to the bar she’d mentioned. As she drove her dress bunched higher and provided Max clear views of her black G-string each time they were stopped at a light and under the bright illumination there.
Ona flashed a smile at Max when his gaze drifted to her center once more at a traffic light. “Do you like what you see?” she asked him.
He quickly shifted his gaze and looked out the windshield.
“Don’t pretend to be shy and try to make me think you don’t screw girls all the time Max. You’re working for a band and going from town to town.”
“No comment,” he said.
“None needed, I’m sure I know. I like talking to you…Maybe I’ll like doing something else with you even more.”
Max swallowed hard but didn’t answer.
Ona turned into a gas station. “I need to make a quick pit stop and can’t wait until we get to the bar. Wait right here.” She got the restroom key from the attendant and dashed into the restroom. When she returned to the car she slid behind the steering wheel again and pulled back out on the street. His eyes bugged and his jaw fell open at the next stop light when he saw she’d removed her panties.
“Damn.” He gulped again.
Ona reached down and played with her piercing. “I don’t normally do this but I feel a chemistry between us. Kitty is thirsty for some milk. Do you have any milk to give her?” Ona asked then tossed her panties into his lap. “Maybe you should take a whiff of those before you answer.”
Max lifted the panties from his lap and inhaled deeply. “Christ Ona you have no idea how much I want to fuck you.”
“Well then, we’ve established what both of us want, the only thing left to decide is should we do it in your room or drive out to my house about thirty minutes away.” Ona held her breath hoping for the answer she desired.
“My room. It’s closer.”
Ona exhaled in relief. “Okay, where’s your room?”
A Witch and Her Dragons: Volume 1
The Spreading Evil: Volume 2
Website / Blog / Youtube
Personal Facebook Page / Facebook Author Page
Twitter / Amazon Author Page / Goodreads / Google+
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Addict: The Cassie Tam Files by Matt Doyle (Book Review)
New Hopeland was built to be the centre of the technological age, but like everywhere else, it has its dark side. Assassins, drug dealers and crooked businessmen form a vital part of the city’s make-up, and sometimes, the police are in too deep themselves to be effective. But hey, there are always other options …
For P.I. Cassie Tam, business has been slow. So, when she’s hired to investigate the death of a local VR addict named Eddie Redwood, she thinks it’ll be easy money. All she has to do is prove to the deceased’s sister Lori that the local P.D. were right to call it an accidental overdose. The more she digs though, the more things don’t seem to sit right, and soon, Cassie finds herself knee deep in a murder investigation. But that’s just the start of her problems.
When the case forces Cassie to make contact with her drug dealing ex-girlfriend, Charlie Goldman, she’s left with a whole lot of long buried personal issues to deal with. Then there’s her client. Lori Redwood is a Tech Shifter, someone who uses a metal exoskeleton to roleplay as an animal. Cassie isn’t one to judge, but the Tech Shifting community has always left her a bit nervous. That wouldn’t be a problem if Lori wasn’t fast becoming the first person that she’s been genuinely attracted to since splitting with Charlie. Oh, and then there’s the small matter of the police wanting her to back off the case.
Easy money, huh? Yeah, right.
I always did like Venetian blinds. There’s something quaint about them in a retro-tacky kinda way. Plus, they’re pretty useful for sneaking a peek out the front of the building if I feel the need. That’s something that you just can’t do with the solid, immovable metal slats that come as a standard in buildings these days. That said, a thick sheet of steel is gonna offer you a damn sight more security than thin, bendable vinyl, so I keep mine installed. Just in case.
Another round of knocking rattles the front door, louder this time than the one that woke me.
The clock says 23:47, and the unfamiliar low-end car out front screams “Don’t notice me, I’m not worth your time,” which makes for the perfect combo to stir up the paranoia that the evening’s beer and horror-film session left behind. This is my own fault. My adverts are pretty descriptive in terms of telling what I do: lost pets, cheating partners, theft, protection, retrieval of people and items, other odds and sods that the city’s finest won’t touch…I’ve got ways to deal with it all. That’s right, I’m a real odd-job gal. The one thing that I don’t put in there are business hours. The way I see it, even the missing pet cases usually leave me wandering the streets at half-past reasonable, so what’s the point in asking people to call between certain hours?
More knocking, followed this time by the squeak of my letter box and a voice. “Hello? Cassandra Tam?”
It’s funny, really. For all the tech advances that the world has made, no one has been able to improve upon the simple open-and-shut letter box. I stumble my way through the dark and wave dismissively at the frosted glass. The light switch and the keypad for the door lock are conveniently placed right next to each other on the wall to the right of the door, sowelcoming my apparent guest is a nice, easy affair. The lock clicks a moment after the lights flood the room, and I pull the door open.
“Cassie,” I say, turning and skulking my way back into the room. “Or Caz. Drop the Tam.”
I hear a sniff behind me, and the lady from the letter box asks, “Are you drunk?”
“If I pass out in the next five minutes, then yes,” I reply, turning the kettle on. I’d left it full, ready for the morning, but I guess this is close enough. “Take a seat at the table. Would you prefer tea or coffee? I’d offer beer, but since I reek of it, I guess I must’ve finished it.”
Footsteps creep unapologetically across the room, and a chair squeaks on the floor. Good. If you can’t deal with a snarky response to something, don’t say it all, and if you can deal with it, then as far as I’m concerned you don’t need to apologise.
“Coffee,” the lady says. “So, do you always see potential clients in your underwear, or is it just my lucky day?” Her voice has a slightly playful edge to it, but with a sarcastic kick to round it off.
The business portion of my apartment comprises entirely of a small open-plan room separating my kitchen from my living room. And by open plan, I mean an allotted space that encroaches on both territories but is conveniently large enough to house what I need. Or, in other words, a table, four chairs, and nothing else. Since filing went near entirely digital, filing cabinets have pretty much become obsolete, so the two that I found dumped outside the building when I bought the place currently live in my bedroom, and contain a mix of quick access work stuff and personal files I’d rather not have floating on the net. Most things, though, I store electronically, the same as everything else.
I rarely use the business table to eat, read, or any of that junk, so until this evening it’s been entirely empty for a good few weeks. The lady sitting there now is studying me, I can see, and probably wondering if this was a mistake. Whatever she may have expected, a Chinese-Canadian gal of average height in a cami top and a loose pair of sleep shorts most likely wasn’t it. For what it’s worth, though, I’m studying her just the same. She’s a lithe-looking thing, dressed in a casual pair of jeans and a plain black fitted top under a leather jacket. If the metal plugs running down her shaven head like a shiny, rubber-tipped Mohawk weren’t a giveaway for what she is, the light scarring punctuating the outer edges of her pale blue eyes certainly would be. She’s a Tech Shifter, and like most of her ilk, she looks like a punk rocker gone cyborg.
(review request submitted by the author for an honest critique)
The world is constantly evolving. Everyday a new gadget is being introduced to the market. At the same time, news sources can’t go a day without mentioning a story dealing with drugs. Matt Doyle took both topics and ran with it. VR (Virtual Reality) is NOT a thing of the past. You can buy the gadgets at your local department store. In Addict, Matt incorporated Flash7, a VR stimulant, which made today’s virtual reality experience the equivalent of using an Atari when you can use a Nintendo Switch.
This story, centering on a murdered VR user, had so much potential for greatness. I wanted Cassie (Caz) to embark in the VR world. I wanted more time spent there instead of the real world. Addict did have a decent plot and a nice twist towards the end of the story; however, the moments leading up to it where nothing extraordinary. I think Caz’s past with Charlie didn’t add much to the storyline. Also, Matt has this book labeled LGBT but really it didn’t have much in the way of same sex interactions. Glances. Quick peck. Honestly, those could’ve been left out and the story wouldn’t have suffered one iota.
One character whom I thought needed more time on the scene was Bert. He was her AI Familiar that resembles a gargoyle and behaves like a good protective pet. Now I love my new kitty, but a pet gargoyle….. That would be a wonderfully crazy addition to my already crazy house.
For utilizing today’s tech in an interesting manner and for my love of Bert, I will rate Addict a solid three.
Heart Rating System:
1 (lowest) and 5 (highest)
Score: ❤❤❤
Matt Doyle lives in the South East of England and shares his home with a wide variety of people and animals, as well as a fine selection of teas. He has spent his life chasing dreams, a habit which has seen him gain success in a great number of fields. To date, this has included spending ten years as a professional wrestler, completing a range of cosplay projects, and publishing multiple works of fiction.
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Interview with Daniel Curzon
- Welcome, Daniel Curzon (pronounced Kerr-Zin). For those who might not be familiar with you, would you be a dear and tell the readers a little about yourself? How did you get your start in the writing business?
(Daniel) I started as a writer by putting on plays as a child in Detroit despite the neighborhood bullies. They all died young.
- Do you ever suffer from writer’s block? If so, please share how you handle it.
(Daniel) If people have a “block” I think they are not writing out their resentments enough. Write them out but not in the first person. Also let “them” have some of the best lines. You have to find something essential to your personality to use as motivation. Everything irritates me, so I never have writer’s block.
- Contrary to what some people envision about a romance writer’s life, it’s not all glitz and glam. Well not for the majority of us. With that bubble sadly busted, when you’re not writing, how do you spend your time?
(Daniel) I am about as far from a romance writer as you can get. I write to reveal what I think other people don’t get right — the irregularities of the truth, not what orthodoxy says is the truth, neither all left or all right. There is obviously porn. There is also Emotional Porn.
When not writing, I watch men beating each other up in MMA.
- I know many writers, such as myself, keep their pastime/career a secret. Do those close to you know you write? If so, what are their thoughts?
(Daniel) I think it best not to show your writing to those who know you, especially if it is about them. You won’t be telling the truth if you show them what you have written. Lie and hide it asked what it’s in it.
- Will you share with us your all-time favorite authors? If you’re like me, it’s a long list so give us your top ten.
(Daniel) My favorite authors are Nathanael West and John Steinbeck. West was the first writer I sensed was not so much an influence as a similar sensibility — that life is a bitter, dark comedy. I liked Steinbeck in my innocent, liberal past.
- If you could choose one book to go to the big screen, yours or otherwise, which book would you choose and whom would you love to see cast in the parts?
(Daniel) My movie would be The Big Book of In-Your-Face Gay Etiquette, starring Brad Pitt, and then me winning the first of my ten Oscars for Best Screenplay.
In some places it is the best of times to be gay. In other places it is the worst. If you have chosen to be gay – and why wouldn’t you? – remember to 1) be proud, but watch your back at all times, and 2) to be good, except when you shouldn’t. This is the 3rd and completely updated 21st Century Edition of the classic, bestselling reference for Gay Proper Etiquette. Revised and expanded for any sophisticated audience some ‘interesting’ millennial changes have occurred over the years from 1982 to the present. “Daniel Curzon is a comic genius.” (Amos Lassen Reviews) “The absolute must-read at US-military . . . worldwide, now that Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell is officially cancelled.” (Executive Editor Wisehouse Publishing) Daniel Curzon has never been afraid of controversy and has been on the cutting edge of several major social and political issues. He is the author of many books of fiction and plays, including the landmark gay protest novel “Something You Do in the Dark” (G.P. Putnam, 1971). (“I greatly admire Daniel Curzon for writing this novel.” – Christopher Isherwood) (“Engrossing, powerful, and disturbing.” – Joyce Carol Oates).
- Would you care to tell us what you’re working on now? That is if it’s not top-secret information. If so, just whisper it in my ear. I swear it’ll go no further.
(Daniel) I’m thinking of next writing a musical about Guerneville Sal, who was a saloon entertainer from 1849-1851. She sang saucy, dirty versions of Xmas carols for the Forty-Niners. Sal was rumored to be a man.
- Where can we find your stories, and is there a particular reading order?
(Daniel) My books are on Amazon.com and on the Wisehouse website. Buy a book of plays, for god’s sake!
~~ Sample of what’s offered on the sites ~~
COLLECTED PLAYS of DANIEL CURZON (VOLUME I, 1977-1982)
The Delicious Memoirs of Daniel Curzon, chronicles the author’s encounters with dozens and dozens of gay and/or gay-hating figures in American literature and theatre from the early nineteen sixties very nearly to the present. The bulk of the many short pieces was written in 1986, and is followed by copious updates on most of the people named.
- Would you please share how your present and future fans can contact you?
(Daniel) Contact me via danielcurzon.com
I think people might be surprised how much is there.
My email is curzon@pacbell.net
- Before we conclude this enlightening interview, do you have anything else you’d like to share? The stage is all yours.
(Daniel) The Oracle at Delphi once predicted that I would be world famous. Under her breath she said, “But not until you are one hundred and one.”
I’m working on it.
~~ Closing remarks ~~
Thank you Daniel for taking time out of your busy schedule to answer a few questions for me. Based off a scan of your website, I see you are truly a busy fella. It sure does have a lot of content!
Visitors, I want to also thank you for stopping by. I hope you enjoyed your time here and I’m sure Daniel appreciates your visit as well. Oh, I am sure he would love to hear from you (here, his site or through email). Before you go, may I ask you to stick around and check out just one more book. It’s Daniel’s latest and just arrived on the scene last month.
Paperback: 250 pages
Publisher: l’Aleph (September 1, 2017)
Sweet, Sweet Stories, Some Sweeter Than Others by Daniel Curzon is a product of a lifetime of living with a super-thin skin and a lot of scar tissue from the vicissitudes of the world. Whether it is possessed of a “monumental originality,” as expressed by Phi Beta Kappa Reviews, it is at the very least a readable, unpretentious collection of short stories that explore the purpose of fiction, of story telling: is it just to pass the time, to divert and amuse, or is it to tell the truth so people will know they are not alone in this world with its bafflements, oddities, sadnesses, and strange turns of mirth?
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