Today I thought I’d share a little about my first ever anthology, The Collector (pub. Austin & Macauley 2008 & 2012) and maybe, if you’re good, I’ll tell you a secret or two about some of its stories!
The Collector, now in its second edition, was my very first solo project, and an absolute joy to put together! The 21 stories were all ‘collected’ by the narrator of the story, who shares with us how she found all these tales- and how she found them. The Collector is an ordinary woman with an extra-ordinary hobby- she hunts down other people’s kinky adventures, and then writes them down.
BlurbThe Collector sits silently alone, engrossed in her tales of lust, submission and dominance. Has she already engraved your erotic exploits on her salacious list?
She may look like she is scribbling randomly in her notebook, but she is secretly listening to, and recording, the overheard fantasies and indiscretions of others.
Forever hungry for stories, when The Collector's sources run dry, her appetite for tales of instruction and voyeurism drives her to do some research of her own before sharing her provocative experiments on paper.
It is time for the world’s raunchiest chronicler to come to light.
I guess the answer has to be....Sort of. Ish. Maybe...
Let’s have a little taster of one of the stories. This is from Crushed- a tale shared with me by a student friend- yes- really!
The general din from the concert behind me had reached such a level of confusion that hand signals were now the only possible means of communication. As I slowly inched closer to the bar I began to wonder how on earth I’d get our drinks back through the heaving mass of people.Thankful that I wasn’t claustrophobic, I slowly shuffled along with the crowd. I could still move my arms but, otherwise I was almost totally immobilised. For some unseen reason we had all come to a complete full stop. Being above average height gave me the advantage of spotting potential “sliding into gaps” opportunities, but eventually I had to accept that I was going nowhere fast, and was destined to remain thirsty for sometime.
I looked around at my temporary colleagues. Apart from hair colour, and a stab at gender, I couldn’t really tell you much about the people who were standing so close to me that we knew what the sides of each others legs felt like.
My mind started to wander. A thirty or so deep crowd of people, all piling in one direction – what were they all thinking? How many pockets had been picked? How many people were accidentally on purpose feeling up the person in front of them?
I began to imagine how I’d react if a strange pair of hands started to stroke my arse as I stood there, unable to move, my protests going unheard. My hands began to itch as I turned my attention to the person directly in front of me. Female, above average height, red hair in tidy bunches, short skirt; older than eighteen I guessed, perhaps younger than twenty five.
I was so close to her that as I looked down I had an excellent view of the top of her head. My crotch was already lightly rubbing against her flimsy skirted rear, and the urge to put my hands over her shoulders and slide them down onto her breasts (which my imagination had decided would be both full and firm), was overwhelming.
I still can’t believe I did it. What if she’d screamed? I’d have been arrested for sure, if anyone should have had heard her.
I would like to be able to say I’d been tentative and gentle; testing the water. But I was straight on, squeezing her tits hard (which were actually small, but beautifully tight). I felt her body stiffen as her attempts to instantly turn around were inhibited by the general crush. I tensed, expecting a slap across my kneading digits. It didn’t come. Instead her body shuffled within its confined space, her own hands slipping behind her and flipping up her short skirt to reveal a pair of neat pale buttocks encased in creamy lace knickers, which she pushed against my hard confined dick.
I must confess to a moments panic then. What if we were spotted? Her intentions were obviously as impure as my own. I took a deep breath to calm myself; there was no way any extra pushing could be viewed as odd. For all I knew the entire crowd could have been at it. The only person who may have been more suspicious than the rest was the guy behind me. As I pulled back slightly from this amazing girl, I could feel his cock was also hard. Or was I simply imagining it?
Wriggling one hand down between her arse and my denims,’ I undid my flies and freed my cock. She must have known what I was doing as she instantly pressed back harder, standing on her toes to feel my length better against her buttocks.
I eased the delicate lace knickers to one side and rubbed myself against her rounded flesh. Her hands snaked around behind her and she grabbed my tip with expert fingers. I tried to suppress a groan, but failed, and anxiously looked around at the still oblivious crowd, as her fingers grasped the end of my shaft.
I have no idea how I kept such an impassive expression on my face. A total stranger was wanking me against her bum, and my head was full of the picture we must be creating. What’s more, each time she forced me back fractionally I brushed against the anonymous guy behind me. I swear he was getting harder all the time and I longed to be able to include him in our secret sex.
I guess I became reckless then, because as she smoothed my dick I began to push back harder. All the time I was waiting to be found out, waiting for a cry of protest. None came.
Grateful of her perfect height, I slipped a hand down as far as I could, feeling between her legs, fingering her slippery wetness. Perhaps she was wearing high heels, I couldn’t tell.
I knew I couldn’t hang on much longer. Sandwiched between this horny girl and a hard man, I thought I’d explode with the thought of the situation alone...
Crushed came to me via a fellow student who swears it really happened- and frankly, knowing him as well as I do, I believe him!
So, are all the other stories in The Collector true?
Well...in some cases I am sworn to secrecy, in other cases,I’d get shot if I told you (even though I’m not sworn to secrecy), and the others...well, let’s just say that the occasionally featured ‘Lady of Negotiable Affection’ called Kitty is a cover for a real person. Her story however, has been sanitised, which if you’ve read Tequila, you may find hard to believe. As to the rest...my lips are sealed. I mean, why kill the magic...
Amazon US - http://www.amazon.com/Collector-Kay-Jaybee/dp/1905609191/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1352239810&sr=1-1&keywords=the+collector+kay+jaybee
Thanks for stopping by today,
Kay Jaybee was nominated as the Best Erotica Writer of 2013 and 2014 by the ETO.
Kay wrote the The Perfect Submissive Trilogy, (Xcite, 2011-14), Making Him Wait, (Sweetmeats Press, 2012), The Voyeur (Xcite, 2012), as well as the novellas, Not Her Type: Erotic Adventures With A Delivery Man (2nd ed. 1001 NightsPress, 2013), Digging Deep (Xcite, 2013), A Sticky Situation, (Xcite, 2012), and The Circus, (Sweetmeats Press). She has also written the anthologies The Collector (Austin & Macauley, 2012 & 2008), The Best of Kay Jaybee (Xcite, 2012), Tied to the Kitchen Sink, Equipment, (All Romance, 2012), Yes Ma’am (Xcite e-books, 2011), Quick Kink One and Quick Kink Two (Xcite e-books, 2010). Kay has had over 100 short stories published by Cleis Press, Black Lace, Mammoth, Xcite, Penguin, Seal, and Sweetmeats Press.
Details of Kay’s work, past, present and future can be found at www.kayjaybee.me.uk
You can follow Kay on Twitter- kay_jaybee,
Brit Babes Site- http://thebritbabes.blogspot.co.uk/p/kay-jaybee.html
Kay also writes contemporary romance as Jenny Kane – www.jennykane.co.uk