Guest author David Russell visits with his contemporary romance books

Perry has a desire for the right woman to spend some time with, enjoying each other’s company, a romantic interlude that would lead to that one fabulous encounter, bringing complete ecstasy.

Rowena is a therapist who has endured a repressed childhood. She loves dressing up and feels that the clothes have a way of caressing her body. She wants him to open up his mind to his dreams.

He begins to ache for Rowena. He finds her dark, sultry and somewhat reserved. He finds hard professional women sexy, and she happens to be just the one he believes could bring out that strong urge that he needs to release. Rowena wants him to incorporate his dreams into a healing process. She is able to help him release his inner self as the two have some romantic interludes that lead to total satisfaction. By giving into what their hearts and mind desires, they are able to find that one medium that captures their souls. After everything is over, will they be able to face the world positively?
Read an excerpt

Therapy Rapture

A breeze smiled on me, soothing the migraine of the day’s travelling.

Rowena, my therapist, was so soothing. Her almond eyes were a warm synthesis of liquidity and matured resin, her lips verging on purple. She was dark, sultry, feline, laid back, reserved, and accommodating, but with such potential for elusiveness! Her low velvet voice melted my reserve and made me ache, my fingers poised to do that touch talk. She had a hold on me, so tender, so yielding, but so firm, I had some token resistance, some caution, but I wanted that, I arranged it, but I did not know what to do about it.

I’d been in my self-protective shell for so long, and always tended to put others down for being conned. It was good that I finally got out of that job. I had had to stretch my upper lip to near the snapping point. Considering what I felt about my supervisor, that good lump of severance pay would give me time so sort myself out. Still, I had committed myself to what I had decided was essential treatment. She had to bring me out, and it would be a sustained operation. She outlined to me that there were a multitude of blocks. We had been consulting together for several months, and at the mental level, we had melted many defensive barriers. How often had our breath felt like a string, pulling us closer to that introductory caress, how often had I felt we nearly touched each other as we delicately paced our minds through those in-depth confessions! Or, how skilled she was at covering up a possible web of stresses and tensions, which was strictly her private area! What traumas must she have experienced to get that delicious equipoise that now faced me, defined me, challenged me, the positives balancing the rejection taboos of my past? Her body language rippled and throbbed—the way she controlled the crossing and uncrossing of her legs, the way she wore skirts of just the right length, or jeans just loose enough to ripple, knowing how to caress herself, knowing how to make her clothes caress her. Her favourite delicate fabrics must really turn her on. She certainly showed me a wide variety of outfits at our various consultations. My wishful thinking simmered. Perhaps there was a coded message underneath her assured professional front. My eyes alternated between her body and her file, between the hand controlling her pen and the eyes, brain and body controlling me. I had laid myself open to her by consulting her…there is always two-way potential…

She had put on no scent, but the natural perfume of her aura permeated me. I was a confused cocktail of trance and clear-headedness.

She had spent one long session struggling to coax me into positive thinking. Through the usual heavy family conditioning and through a good number of snubs and vicious deceptions, I had grown so many defensive membranes, layers that now felt congealing, coagulating.

Next session, I had to go back to her with a progress report on the programme of self-redirection she had drafted for me. As ever, Rowena urged me to incorporate my dreams into the healing process. She switched on some rippling, vaporous meditation music with a background of natural sounds, water and breeze on her sound system, got me comfortable on the couch. She then sat beside me, looking me hypnotically, straight in the face. I felt that she always mentally undressed me in these sessions, putting out laser rays on my buttons and zips. That was what made them so effective and sustained her hold on me.

Her soul embraced me, so that I wanted her to absorb my essence into her own body and mind.  Her lips and nostrils were in titillating accord as she faced me and acknowledged me. I ached for her hands, I longed to reciprocate. The buttons on her blouse, the suggestion of the crisp bra within, were so magnetic. When she touched the buckle of her belt, her fingers almost clinching to undo…Rowena induced a trance in me, barely repressed by formality, and I felt it was taking hold of her, as well. It was obeying a non-verbal instruction, tunnelling out of the prison of routine obedience. I ached for her hands to undo my clothes.

****

Everyone has secret yearnings for that breathtaking encounter with a charismatic celebrity. Who has not at some time ached to get into that fantasy video and participate actively? We all wish our of dreams would come true . . . and for some it could possibly happen . . .

Read an excerpt from 

My Dream of Madonna/An Ecstatic Rendezvous

"We'll have a romantic undress," I said.

"That's a wonderful idea," she said, "never done this before, but I've been yearning for it, dreaming about it for ages!" My jacket, shoes and socks were no trouble. Then Sandra took off my shirt and vest, feeling the muscles of my torso and my arms as she did so. I stood before her, proud in my tight black briefs.

"Darling; you've got a wonderful physique; I'm so proud of my catch!"

"I'll do the same for you. Your blouse first." It was off-the-shoulder, flimsily, casually worn. The three buttons undid with ease, to reveal her glorious sun-bedded shoulders and back.

"OK; now I'll undo your skirt." I peeled the zip along very slowly, feeling her hips, and edged it down. Sandra gave a smile and a giggle. "Is that nice?"

I find stockings so much more alluring without suspenders. I touched their tops and felt her firm flesh beneath them.

"Now, off with them, darling. I want to see your lovely legs as they really are."

The stockings looked so delicate; I didn't want to risk laddering them. Sandra lowered them with tender care. We felt each other’s thighs and calves. Her white briefs gleamed with promise.

"Now, darling; we've got to make this scene combine the boudoir and the beach. Let's put on our bathing costumes now. I'm a turn-on in briefs, so wait for the next."

Sandra went into the bedroom to do her change. As my erection began to mount, I got a thrill pulling on my trunks. Sandra's mirror was great. With shorts and singlet on, I looked gorgeously sporty - fit and confident. Sandra tiptoed out of the bathroom wearing a primrose-yellow beach wrap. "Now, let's really relish this." We stood facing the mirror. "Now for the fabulous beach party."

I raised up my arms; Sandra pulled off my dark blue singlet, put her hands on my waist, and let go. I put my right arm around her shoulder, my left around her waist. I undid her sash and slowly drew off the robe, over her shoulders and back.

There she stood, in all her voluptuous glory, hips and breasts pulsing in her clingy black strapless one-piece. It was lie a thrill of first attraction, when a boy and a girl really take a fancy to each other, decide to go for a swim together, and take a delicious foretaste of each other with clothes off.

"You're absolutely ravishing!" I gasped.

"And you're out of this world," panted Sandra, touching my waist and hips, feeling the fabric, and feeling me through the fabric. "These are really nice boxer shorts darling; shall I take them off?" She pulled them down over my thighs. I stepped out of them. Our pride in our bodies, and desire for each other, were truly levitated. My trunks were a wow; and did she respond!

"Don't I look great in trunks, darling?"

"You look wonderful."

We absolutely took our fill of admiring ourselves, and each other, in the mirror. We were lovely for each other. Our excitement and desire made us beautiful, more super than any stars or models.

 

Buy the books  

My Dream of Madonna/An Ecstatic Rendezvous  Amazon

Therapy Rapture Amazon

Today's guest author is David Russell

Welcome David,  Tell us a little about yourself.

I am a UK-based romance writer; all my stories have a distinctly British feel.   They have been classified as 'soft vanilla' - non-explicit, and as being nearer to literary than to genre fiction.
I also write poetry, speculative fiction, and journalism
I've been writing erotica since the mid-1980s. Published extensively in magazines and anthologies along with several books, poetry and prose. I also recorded and am the singer-songwriter of a vinyl album, Bricolage recorded by Billy Childish for Hangman Records 1992, CD albums Bacteria Shrapnel and The Burglars of Britain (1998).

David has brought along some of his books today to share,

Self's Blossom

This is about a young woman's self-discovery. Selene is a 'success story', having become a top journalist, while retaining her dazzling looks. However, in the past she has had unhappy relationships, and feels she has missed out on hedonistic fun.  This she obtains, firstly with a young stranger on a beach, and finally with enigmatic Hudson: tryst is preceded by cultural tourism, and careful sizing up of minds. Afterwards Selene returns to her 'I stand on my own' attitude. While she is on holiday, her mind is free to ramble, often into Selene's chequered past. Flashback blurs into the present, past-rooted interior monologue into direct observation. The dialogue is sparse. Selene is a cautious, premeditative type, in whom thought, reflection and analysis outweigh direct action. Selene’s subtle, monitoring mind coolly observes and controls all the events. Maybe she is super-confident, or perhaps has a deep, underlying insecurity. She is many things to many readers.

Read an excerpt from Self's Blossom
 

Here, she was on a beach, pure and simple. Now the sea breathed heavily, whispering and murmuring to her. It was returning her stare, speaking to her. It was the spirit of love, beckoning her with a pulsing, sinewy body. In all its lines, shades, and fleeting forms, Selene saw the essence of pure beauty, all grace of form, flesh, limb and feature. It was in one, all the lovers of whom she could possibly dream, conflated into one elemental ideal. He, pure love in soul, bade her to enter his domain and make it hers. His arms moved her hands to unclasp, unbutton, and unzip . . . the blossom emerged. The sun became the eye of all that was not earth, and Selene loved fully, though the pallor of her skin left her momentarily abashed.

At first she lay in the tide's path, the top of her head at its most extreme mark. The sand bank made a soft bed. The sea lover smoothly caressed her calves, thighs, hips, breasts, shoulders, and cheeks before retreating to pause in his mossy pinnacles. Three times this action was repeated, and then Selene stood up, wading in with arms outstretched. Her arms were linked, as she stood up to her neck in the saline flow. The balls and heels of her feet wobbled, slithering on the moss. With the next wave, she lost her balance – her breath prepared in unison with the hissing around her. She threw her head back, once again horizontal, and launched into a backstroke, sweeping and circling. She parted her legs wide with each thrust of motion, each sweep of self-propulsion pushing out to answer the cavernous currents of his passion. Seven circles gave her a delicious, warm bliss –then the sea lover, well pleased, carried her back to a near-dry bed. Aching and contented, Selene dozed a while.

They were in dream concert, synchronized and occasionally syncopated, strutting the world’s catwalks—starting horizontal, then ascending, oblique, to culminate in the spirit-bedroom, their path to ecstasy strewn with flowers of discarded velvet and shot silk. Their overwhelming electricity constantly recharged all the camera flashlights’ batteries. Their essence was diffused into the flashes. “Iconic perfection, darling!”

Explorations 

Newly divorced and looking for interesting new experiences, Janice takes an art class with live models and the star makes her want more than a coincidental meeting. Art model, Cedric, thinks he knows the lady from somewhere when he sees her again at the pool. Body language says a lot and chance meetings lead to a desire for more. Will Janice ask Cedric over for a private modeling job and will he accept?

 

Excerpt from Explorations

Sure enough, it was Cedric! Quite impressively dressed in the black of his hair colour—cords, suede shoes, velvet jacket and fine polo. In spite of blushes on both sides, recognition did not falter.

"Well, well. Worlds are ridiculously small. How come you're here?"

Cedric fumbled a few moments for words . . . at length to come out with the routine truth… "I left a book here a few days ago. I just came to collect it. But fancy us both knowing Marcus!"

"We follow life's currents, its winds and waves…come on, sit down."

* * * *

How ideal! Everything laid on! It would have really spoiled things if either of them had overstepped their customary manners and tried to arrange a meeting, as the telephone advisers always said, in a neutral public place.

Janice put on an album of Beethoven String Quartets and kept the volume low, but with quite a lot of bass. The music blended, unobtrusively, with their sensations. Its sombre explorations penetrated their minds, their hearts, their groins, punctured their inhibitions, free their breath. Ripples registered on both sides. Their dark outfits made a spectral blend, poised to melt into each other. The non-verbal was sustained, as they mentally undressed—first each other, then themselves, down to their bathing suits, at the water's edge, ready for the plunge.

* * * *

"Well," she giggled, "first leading question, what do you do? You give the impression of having quite an exciting occupation."

"I'm a journalist, articles about fashion and health products. And how about you?"

"The dreaded legal profession, highly stimulating at times, but it does stress me."

"You're not alone; one does need things to counteract the stresses."

She gave him a sustained gaze. "Hmm, hope I'm not being intrusive. I've been keeping an eye on you in the swimming pool for some time. You're looking really good now—got into swimming well…must admit I was a bit worried about you before. You seemed a bit head-heavy, imbalanced. But now you've accepted your body, toned it up and relaxed the tensions. It's the best exercise, you know involving all of you."

"I guess I've conquered some fears. I'm so glad to do it properly…" he grew a bit shy and hesitant. "It started… when you bumped into me and gave me those tips on how to improve that really clinched things for me, and…"

"Don't be shy," Janice patted his knee to assuage his hesitation.

"I had seen you before! At that party here . . . you did that beautiful dance; your skirt billowed."

"And?"

"Then to see you in your bathing costume."

"And when you did, you took the plunge, bless you."

"I just had to come in the water with you. And then, when I saw you at the art class, I was just dying to pose for you. I was secretly longing for the model not to turn up so that I would have my chance."

Janice unbuttoned Cedric's jacket, felt his shoulders and his chest. "You've got your body in trim and you can really carry yourself in trunks. Clothes look good on you, but your height of fashion is around your loins."

* * * *

The jacket dropped to the floor. Elation welled up in them both. Chemistry and magnetism made their chain-reaction. Slowly edging their heads towards one another, lips meeting eyebrows, eyelids, cheeks, chins, each other. Two deep drawn breaths were held for an ecstatic clinch with tongues. Her hand rose to his crown, massaged him through that full, drawn-out embrace.

His left hand unbuttoned her jacket, feeling her shoulder pressing from waist to hip. Breeze-like, his right raised her skirt, to rest on her thigh as high as was aesthetic at that moment. Her centre took the signal, hips pressing forward. The two of them had dived and surfaced in love's stream. What a catch for her—this controllable gentleness combined with fathoms of passion—and for him, this beauty of experience that he could now match. Aquiver, they drew back.

"You're so lovely," he panted, "I want to see you undressed."

Further Explorations , by David Russell, takes up where the first book, Explorations , left off. Janice and Cedric, who are recently divorced, have enjoyed their passionate interlude. They have experienced a rejuvenation of spirit but both are still striving for that transformation of self; to shed the constraints of their old lives and become the person each secretly desires to be. Their interlude was just the beginning of that transformation and although there are some misgivings and reluctance they agree to go their separate ways to experience all that life has to offer.  During their time apart they keep in contact via email. They each encounter financial and career success which allows them to seek out the pleasures they had missed out on while in their respective marriages. Each shares a passionate encounter with another and learns more about what they like in the opposite sex. As well they learn much about what the other seeks.  As the story approaches the end Janice and Cedric meet again. 

Excerpt from further explorations

At last to be over there, down to earth, facing a new glitter, an array of visual and tactile delights… At last some real ice-breaking eye-contact in an all-American bar, and this time, massive breakthrough—no jitters! Zarinda’s iridescent, predatory eyes pierced through Adrian’s nerves and brain cells to his marrow. That perfect foil, seemingly non-existent in his past. With her swarthy skin and her obvious impulsiveness, she felt like the diametric opposite of Janice, therefore essential for him to complete his equation. On the first registering, Janice’s initial tentative quivering was erased by Zarinda’s radiant, undeflectable gaze. There was an ageless quality in her bearing, luscious blend of supple youth and maturity. These days there are those who can manage all that into their fifties and sixties.

Cedric blushed. “My impulses have recently been liberated. I have broken a blockage.”

She sized him up, down to the depths, with one penetrating glance. “You recently discovered the

right combination for your lock and now you can go ahead with me. Our vista is ever expanding.”

He had to go through the modulations of hair and skin colour, the gamut of cover, different sizes, too, but go easy on the cellulite, which was no great difficulty for him. To get the full relish and savour of all of this, he had to go through the wardrobe gamut that covered and garnished those bodies, lotions, fake tans and all, the flesh matching the photographs.

Meanwhile, Janice was sensually pulling on, zipping, buttoning those outfits whispering, “Have I perfected my magnetic allure?” He was going past the outfitters seeing his fantasy partners in and out of that array of garments through every shade of light and darkness…deliciously massed sensation of flesh, muscle and bone…the hardness of the latter sublimated as a foundation for suppleness, the crucial phrase, suspended on breath and tongue. “Undress me.”

They were in dream concert, synchronized and occasionally syncopated, strutting the world’s catwalks—starting horizontal, then ascending, oblique, to culminate in the spirit-bedroom, their path to ecstasy strewn with flowers of discarded velvet and shot silk. Their overwhelming electricity constantly recharged all the camera flashlights’ batteries. Their essence was diffused into the flashes. “Iconic perfection, darling!”

 ****

 Buy the books

Explorations Amazon UK
Further Explorations Amazon UK
Find David on  eXtasy books
Self's Blossom Amazon UK