Out Now—Classic Felthouse: Stories from the Archive by Lucy Felthouse (@cw1985)

Blurb:

Fancy a blast from the past? Then dip in to five short stories from the Lucy Felthouse archive. A handful of her earliest published tales have been polished up and presented to you in one seriously hot collection. Enjoy a sexy soldier, a buxom babe, erotic daydreams, filthy phone sex and a language barrier, and see where it all began for this prolific author of erotica and erotic romance.

Buy links:

Amazon (universal link): http://mybook.to/classicfelthouse

All Romance eBooks: http://bit.ly/2gs48VN

Barnes & Noble: http://bit.ly/2gsbpor

iBooks: http://apple.co/2hp6bfo

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2gR7faE

Smashwords: http://bit.ly/2gRbZ0c

*****

Excerpt from Fantasy Assignment:

I couldn’t believe my luck when I heard what my next editorial assignment was. In fact I discreetly pinched myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.

My editor wanted me to write an article on Single Living Accommodation in the British Army. The British Army. Big deal, I hear you thinking. Perhaps I’d better explain. I have a real thing about men in uniform, I always have had. Stick me in front of a hot guy in uniform and I’m putty in their hands. So you see, I was rather excited at the prospect of being around all those sexy men. And even better, I was going to be paid for it. Talk about perks of the job.

The article was planned into an upcoming edition of the glossy women’s magazine I work for. The ‘careers special’ was designed to give the readers an insight into different industries and jobs within them.

I only had a few days to prepare for my assignment, so I did my homework and made lots of notes. I always like to be well prepared, to avoid the chance of messing something up and getting a bollocking from the editor.

Soon enough, the day arrived and I dragged myself out of bed at 6 a.m.—a chore in itself as I’m not a morning person—got my things together and took a taxi to the train station. I had strict instructions on where I had to change trains, where I should go and who I should look for when arriving at my destination. Corporal Matt Stokes would be there waiting for me. Given he’d be in uniform, I wasn’t too worried about recognising him.

When I boarded the first train and got settled into my seat, I grabbed my bag and pulled out a magazine. After reading the same page three times and realising I still had no idea what it was about, I gave up. I allowed my mind to wander. Would Corporal Stokes be attractive? Would he be tall and slim; small and well-built? Aloof, cheeky; who knew? All I knew for sure was that there was a good chance I’d think he was sexy simply because of what he was wearing. In my opinion, the uniform screams masculinity and sex. It hides what is beneath, leaving that to your imagination, but gives the impression of the wearer being rough and ready—just how I like my men.

After a speedy change of trains, I relaxed and let my thoughts wander for some time, until I heard the announcement that my station was the next one. I got myself ready, checked I had all my stuff together and perched on the edge of my seat. I was also aware that my daydreams had left me feeling more than a little horny, and as a consequence, my underwear was damp. I smiled to myself. I hadn’t even set eyes on a squaddie yet and my mind was in the gutter. Heaven knows what I’d be like when I was surrounded by hard male bodies, and the smell of sweat and spunk.

Perhaps I’d become immune to the charm of the uniform after seeing it constantly for a couple of days? Only time would tell. Five minutes to be precise; which was the time it took for the train to pull in at the platform and for me to get off and look around for my lift. As I’d expected, he wasn’t difficult to spot. As soon as I laid eyes on the six foot plus frame of Corporal Stokes, I knew I would never get bored of that uniform as long as I lived. Especially on him.

*****

Author Bio:

Lucy Felthouse is the award-winning author of erotic romance novels Stately Pleasures (named in the top 5 of Cliterati.co.uk’s 100 Modern Erotic Classics That You’ve Never Heard Of, and an Amazon bestseller), Eyes Wide Open (winner of the Love Romances Café’s Best Ménage Book 2015 award, and an Amazon bestseller) and The Persecution of the Wolves. Including novels, short stories and novellas, she has over 150 publications to her name. She owns Erotica For All, and is one eighth of The Brit Babes. Find out more about her writing at http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk, or on Twitter or Facebook. Sign up for automatic updates on Amazon or BookBub. You can also subscribe to her monthly newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

Release blitz hosted by Writer Marketing Services.

New Release: Multi-Orgasmic by Lucy Felthouse

From the pen of award-winning erotica author Lucy Felthouse comes a collection of short stories and flash fiction sure to hit the spot.

There’s something for everyone nestling between the pages of this sexy anthology. From spanking to voyeurism, bondage to pegging, solo loving to ménage, with a sprinkling of femdom, maledom and magic, fans of M/F erotic stories will soon discover why this book is described as multi-orgasmic.

Enjoy twenty one titillating tales, over 52,000 words of naughtiness packed into one steamy read.

Please note: Many of the stories in this book have been previously published in anthologies and online, but three of the tales are brand new and never-seen-before!

Buy links (FREE for Kindle Unlimited users!): http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/multi-orgasmic/

Sapphic Smut: Tales of Lesbian Lust Out Now! #sapphicsmut #erotica #anthology

Blurb:

Light hearted, sexy Sapphic smut is the theme of this erotic anthology, edited by Lucy Felthouse with assistance from Kev ‘Mitnik’ Blisse.

From coffee shops to exotic Indian adventures to cosy cabins in France, Sapphic Smut has it all. Fun with sugar, naughty spankings, seductions by strangers, seductions by friends, cougars and even a twist on a fairy tale abound in this exciting collection of lesbian stories from erotica’s finest authors.

This delicious girl-on-girl anthology contains stories from Lucy Felthouse, Kay Jaybee, Louisa Bacio, Sallyanne Rogers, Vanessa de Sade, Tabitha Rayne and Elizabeth Coldwell.

Amazon: http://mybook.to/sapphicsmut

Other links: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/sapphic-smut/

Editor’s Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/lucyfelthousewriter

Excerpt:

Alana really couldn’t believe how flat Holland was. She’d been told by many people, but somehow, she still wasn’t expecting a place that made Cambridgeshire look like the Peak District. Her view from the train as she travelled from Schiphol airport to Amsterdam’s Centraal Station was unimpeded. Not so much as a hillock was visible.

And now, here she was, standing outside the station with crowds milling around her. A mixture of tourists, businesspeople and natives. She herself was a combination of two of those groups—she was here on business, but she’d deliberately extended her trip so she could spend a couple of days exploring the city. She had a day either side of her meeting, the boring part a filling to a sightseeing sandwich. Though, despite the boring tag, the meeting definitely wasn’t a bad thing, it was an appointment to cross the ts and dot the is on a very lucrative deal—certainly the trip was worthwhile.

After watching the insanity for another minute or so, she began to head away from the station, wheeling her small case along with her. Already armed with a guidebook and a decent map, she knew where she was going. Her map-reading skills were excellent, and she made the short walk to her hotel in less than twenty minutes. Anywhere else, she’d have gotten a cab, but it appeared they were a rare commodity in this city.

She’d checked in, dumped her bags and freshened up within another ten minutes, and was back on the street.

An online acquaintance had sent her a bunch of information for her trip—about the best museums, interesting things to see that might not be in guidebooks, and details on transport. It appeared that Amsterdam was unlike London, Paris and Rome, in as much as it had trams as its preferred mode of transport, rather than underground trains. Only one Metro line ran through the city, north-to-south. Everywhere else was utterly dependent on trams, bikes and being on foot.

And fuck, there were a lot of bikes. They zipped here, there and everywhere, not always staying where they were supposed to be, it seemed. The slim Dutch people atop the bikes were oblivious, just concentrating on getting where they were going.

Alana searched for the nearest tram stop, and quickly discovered she needed to be on the other side of the road to head in the right direction.

Crossing the road was a chore in itself. A dice with death. She’d thought Rome’s motorists were insane, but at least they were fairly predictable. Here, she was faced with crossing a road that held a cycle path, a tram line and a lane for cars. Shifting down the pavement, she stood at the conveniently placed crossing. It still didn’t make things much easier, but at least she could mingle in with the crowd. Traffic was much more likely to stop if it was going to hit a crowd of people than a single pedestrian. Right?

By some miracle, she reached the opposite pavement unscathed—except for her nerves, which were shot—and approached the tram stop. As if by magic, a tram arrived, and it was the correct number. Things were looking up.

After a few minutes, she realised that public transport in Amsterdam was nowhere near as easy to navigate as in the other major cities she was familiar with. There, their Tube or Metro stations always had plenty of large, unmissable signs telling you where you were. Piccadilly Circus, Anvers, Piramide. Here, it seemed you were left to your own devices. There were announcements on board the tram, but they were in Dutch—a language which she knew very little of—incredibly muffled, and pretty much drowned out by the sound of the tram’s motion and its passengers.

Coming Soon to an eReader Near You

Hi everyone,

I'm excited to announce the upcoming release of Smut by the Sea Volume 2, edited by myself and Victoria Blisse. Here's the blurb:

Light hearted, sexy fun by the sea is the theme of this erotic anthology, edited by Victoria Blisse and Lucy Felthouse.

From the sun soaked beaches of Brazil to the altogether cooler coastal towns of England, Smut by the Sea Volume 2 has it all. Whatever your interpretation of naughty seaside fun, there’s something nestling between the covers for you. Amusement arcades, beach houses, mermaids, honeymooners, shipwrecks, sex toys and more abound in this exciting collection of stories from erotica’s finest authors.

Contains stories from Victoria Blisse, Tilly Hunter, Rachel Randall, Giselle Renarde, Tamsin Flowers, Lucy Felthouse, Kate Britton, Jillian Boyd, Bel Anderson, Cass Peterson, Delyth Angharad, T C Mill, Erzabet Bishop, Tenille Brown and Annabeth Leong.

There's more info here, and buy links will also be here when they become available.

You can also add the book to your Goodreads shelves here.

Smut Ahoy!

By Lucy Felthouse

Hi everyone! I'm delighted to announce the recent release of two Smut anthologies - Smut Alfresco and Smut for Chocoholics. The first, I co-edited with Victoria Blisse, and the second was edited by the fabulous Kevin Mitnik, and contains one of my stories. So, without further ado, I'd like to introduce the two latest additions to the Smut family:

This one contains my story, Being Free, which is set in London's Kensington Gardens.

Sex in the great outdoors is the theme of this erotic anthology, edited by Victoria Blisse and Lucy Felthouse.

From the dramatic gritstone escarpments of Derbyshire’s Peak District, to a quiet caravan site in deepest Wales, Smut Alfresco has it all. Whatever your interpretation of frisky outdoor fun, there’s something nestling between the covers for you.

Sexy woodsmen, daring couples, rock stars, cougars, map enthusiasts, mattresses, ex-lovers, tour guides, hunky sheriffs and nature reserve rangers all appear in this hot collection of stories from erotica’s finest authors.

Includes stories from: Violet Fields, Demelza Hart, Victoria Blisse, Jacqueline Brocker, Wendi Zwaduk, K T Red, Tilly Hunter, Bel Anderson, Lucy Felthouse, Kay Jaybee, Tenille Brown, Cass Peterson, Jenny Lyn and Nicole Gestalt.

More info, excerpt and buy links: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/smut-alfresco/

This one contains my story, Not Just Desserts, which is set in a pub/restaurant and involves chocolatey goodness.

Sensual, sinful chocolately indulgence  is the theme of this erotic anthology, edited by Kevin Mitnik, with assistance from Victoria Blisse.

Smut for Chocoholics is all about indulgence, taking wicked delight in the erotic consumption and use of chocolate, with tales from some of erotica’s finest authors.. Whatever your relationship with the seductive cocoa, there’s something nestling between the covers for you.

More info, excerpt and buy links: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/smut-for-chocoholics/

So, what are you waiting for? Kink up your Kindle ;) And prepare for the imminent release of Smut by the Sea Volume 2 and Coming Together: With Curves, both edited by myself and Victoria Blisse.

Something Else That Drives Me Crazy... Potholes

By Lucy Felthouse

Oh dear, I seemed to have developed a real liking for ranting. So here I am again, having a moan about potholes, this time. I've included the details on my latest release underneath, though, so you've got some light relief afterwards ;)

Sooo... potholes. Totally rife at this time of year. Very annoying, dangerous and potentially extremely expensive. My dad was at a garage recently (a non-pothole related tyre replacement) and he saw a total knackered wheel - yes, the wheel as well as the tyre was totally fucked. Turns out the driver had hit a pothole in a local village - a very posh village, actually, with a private school. Apparently, even having toffs milling about obviously isn't enough to make the council cough up.

The thing that annoys me about potholes is the fact that as a person that owns a car, and therefore pays an extortionate amount of car tax, I've already paid for the road repairs. Myself and however many other millions of motorists are putting money in the banks of the respective councils, whether or not anything needs doing to the roads or not. It does, of course, as potholes are an ongoing problem that will never be stopped unless some boffin invents a new road surface that doesn't crack and crumble. Of course, if they did, it would be deemed too expensive to  use, anyway, although it would no doubt pay for itself within a year or two.

They're not so bad on local roads, where the speed limit is much lower, as the motorist has time to see the pothole and take measures to avoid it. Obviously, swerving isn't always possible, if traffic is on the other side of the road, or if the road is narrow, but if you absolutely have to go through a pothole, a crawl is much better than a zoom, naturally. Even then they judder the entire car and the people in it, which still can't be doing much good for the vehicle - through no fault of the driver's.

What does drive me completely mad and also scares me is potholes on dual carriageways and motorways. I use a busy dual carriageway and motorway on a regular basis, and they're currently both riddled with potholes. I've even described some of them as craters, they're so bloody big. And on those fast roads, they're a death trap, in my opinion. In daylight, you can see them and take preventative action - again, if you have enough room to manoeuvre around them - but some appear from nowhere, and before you know it, you've thundered up and down a horrible bump and your teeth are rattling. And you're also pretty paranoid that you've buggered up your tyres, your wheels, your suspension or something else. And it's not your fault.

In the dark, it's terrifying. You know they're there, but because there's traffic everywhere, you can't put on your full beam lights, so the holes really do appear out of nowhere, and you don't have enough time to avoid them. I've spent several journeys now, gripping onto the steering wheel for dear life, and hoping I don't hit a crater.

And as for people going too fast, well, I'm surprised there haven't been more accidents. Some of the holes are genuinely big enough that I bet if someone hit them wrong, they could end up flipping their car over. And imagine the damage that could cause - to people, to cars, to lives. But of course, it could happen to someone doing the speed limit, too. Someone could just get unlucky, and then all hell would break loose.

You may be able to apply to have councils to pay for tyres and car repairs because of the shitty road surfaces, but what amount of money is going to replace the loss of life? Come on councils, pull your socks up. I know money's tight, but motorists are pre-paying for these bloody repairs to keep us safe and mobile, and you're not doing them. Sooner or later, something really bad is going to happen, and that's going to be on you.

P.S. Yes, most of the potholes are on the inside lanes, so common sense would say additional traffic and heavier vehicles are making the problem worse. As a result, middle-lane-hoggers are actually pretty sensible to stay where they are - for once, I can't blame them!

*****

Four kinky and erotic BDSM tales from the smutty pen of Lucy Felthouse.

Balancing the Books
Philip’s a well off man, and doesn’t need a job. But when he sees the gorgeous owner of his local bookshop, he applies for the role that’s being advertised there immediately. He’s totally stricken by the stunning Giovanna, and when it turns out she wants to boss him around in a sexual sense as well as an employment sense, he has no intention of refusing.

Feeling the Heat
Taylor and Maisie’s car has broken down. Luckily, Taylor’s handy with engines and is working hard to get them back on the road. Unfortunately, Maisie is getting annoyed at the amount of time he’s spending in the garage and confronts him. Instead of arguing back, though, Taylor comes up with an ingenious plan to keep Maisie quiet.

The Perfect Dom
Part of Mia’s nightwear is a pair of hotpants with SPANK ME emblazoned across the arse. Normally, that wouldn’t be a problem, but when she forgets that she has a houseguest and heads to the kitchen for a drink, she’s shocked to find Alex in her living room. Immediately spotting what he sees as an invitation written across Mia’s bottom, Alex makes an offer and Mia soon discovers that he is, in fact, the perfect dom.

Meet Me at the Spanish Steps
Darby is working at a holiday camp on the outskirts of Rome and is getting along just fine, with the exception of her sex life. For various reasons, she’s not getting what she wants in the bedroom, and her tastes are very particular. She turns to the Internet to get what she needs, and when she discovers William, it seems that he’s more than willing—and capable—of scratching that particular itch.

More info, excerpt and buy links: http://lucyfelthouse.co.uk/published-works/the-perfect-dom/

*****

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over seventy publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include Best Bondage Erotica 2012 and 2013, and Best Women's Erotica 2013. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies. She owns Erotica For All, and is book editor for Cliterati. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9

Well Colour Me Lustful and Give me a Laptop

A Guest Post by K D Grace

Picture Botticelli’s lovely painting of Venus and Mars. You know the one I’m talking about, the one that you just want to stand in front of all day staring and sighing and thinking romantic Renaissance thoughts.  Have you got that in your head? Good! Now picture the goddess in a black corset  and a bad-ass strap-on. And all those cherubs in the picture, well picture them as overworked servants of the goddess, whose job it is to hold the sex toys she’d not using at the moment and offer them to her with hot little hands … or wherever else she wants them to hold them.

Now then, as for Mars. Weeeell, picture Mars, or in this case Jack Calendar, dressed in a ratty track suit a pair of badly worn Nikes Add to that an aging Avengers t-shirt, and imagine Mars with a laptop instead of a sword and shield. Are you starting to get the idea?

Now then for the story that goes with our lovely Botticelli does DC Comics, think about a cross between The Big Bang Theory on steroids and The Corleones from The Godfather meet The Olympians from Greece – a truly dysfunctional family. The Olympians are moonlighting in London. Aphrodite has a head for business, and poor Jack Calendar has been caught peeking while the goddess of love does the nasty with …. well just about everyone! When Jack’s punishment for peeking is to be hired on as Aphrodite’s PA, he quickly discovers that his job demands special skills, Aphrodite is quick to offer on-the-job training. 

Aphrodite Gets a Piece of the Action can be downloaded as a stand-alone novella or it can be purchased with the other six sins in Sweetmeats Press’s fab new anthology, Seven Deadly Sins. This fabulous anthology contains stories by Lily Harlem, Sarah Masters, Victoria Blisse, Lucy Felthouse, Lexie Bay, and Rebecca Bond. It’s illustrated by John LaChatte and edited by KoJo Black.

Blurb for Aphrodite Gets a Piece of the Action:

There’s no place to go but down when, against all odds, sexually inexperienced, nerd’s nerd, JACK CALENDAR gets shanghaied into being APHRODITE’s PA. And she has him going down a lot! Who could have guessed that the moonlighting Goddess of Love had head for business? The hours are long, the work is difficult and the Goddess is demanding and insatiable. Then there’s her family, who make the Corleones look like the Brady Bunch.

A PA’s work is never done, and Jack wasn’t hired for his impressive organizational skills. Nerdy Jack is at Aphrodite’s beck-and-call, because he’s the only mortal she has ever known with a lust powerful enough to match her own. Jack’s never had so much sex. He didn’t even know one could have so much sex – with someone other than themselves, that is. Just when he’s starting to get the hang of serving the goddess, Jack meets the husband, whose jealous temper is volcanic to say the least. Can Jack survive a run-in with the original dysfunctional family, or will he end up just one more manipulated mortal fucked by the gods?

Excerpt

‘Hey you! Ass-wipe! Don’t make me come up after you.’

Coming up wasn’t necessary. Startled, Jack lost his balance on the limb and fell out of the tree backward, his fall being slowed by the hard thwack, thwack, thwack of a half a dozen smaller, more supple branches before he hit the manicured lawn flat on his back leaving him winded and stunned.

‘Izzee dead?’ A voice hissed from somewhere above Jack’s prone, breathless body.

‘Course ‘es not dead. His cock’s still hard. Sonovabitch! Hat’s off to ‘im, I say.’

‘Don’t matter. When her dad gets through with him, he’ll wish he was dead.’

‘Shut up, you two. No one asked your opinion,’ a third voice said. Then the owner of that voice grabbed Jack by the arm and hauled him to his feet nearly dislocating his shoulder in the process. He found himself nose to nose to a man with perfectly coifed hair that looked like it came straight from an eighties cop show. And the rest of him looked like a poster boy for a hard core muscle mag, right down to the bad-ass eagle tat rippling up his bulging right bicep. If that wasn’t crazy enough, the man was wearing a toga, for chrissake! 

His pecs bulged and his nipples looked like they’d been clamped within an inch of their lives. And who the hell noticed a man’s nipples, Jack wondered, especially when Blondie’s old man was about to make him wish he were dead.

‘Tuck it in, Bub,’ Toga Man nodded to Jack’s cock which, embarrassingly enough, still offered a full frontal salute. He shoved and shifted it back into his track suit, but even then it led the way as he fell into step behind Toga Man with two black-suit security types flanking him. What the hell was the matter with him? He could die or worse and he still had enough wood to start a bonfire.

‘Big Z ain’t gonna be happy you watching his daughter do the dirty,’ the suit to his left spoke out of one side of his mouth.

‘You shut your pie-hole,’ Toga Man said. ‘You dunno what makes Big Z happy. Besides, she ain’t his daughter.’

Big Z? What the hell was this, Jack wondered, some kind of Mafioso toga party? They made their way through the enormous marble foyer of the house Jack hadn’t noticed being anywhere nearly so huge from his perch in the oak tree. But then it wasn’t the house he’d been looking at, was it? At last, Toga Man dismissed the Mafia-thugs and fast marched Jack, both hands protectively folded across the bounce, bounce, bounce of his erection, to another set of double doors at the end of a long hallway. He threw them open and with a hand on Jack’s shoulder, half shoved him into an opulent study. There, Jack found himself face to face with the bare ass of a bloke doing the nasty up the bumhole of another, a situation that didn’t prevent Toga Man from announcing loudly. ‘We found this scumbag up the oak tree watching Aphrodite.’

Buy Aphrodite Gets a Piece of the Action Now

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Want Bondage?

By Lucy Felthouse

Want bondage? You got it! Alison Tyler just released The Big Book of Bondage, and it contains my quirky and sexy tale, Balancing the Books.

Here's some info on the anthology:


Surrender to your fantasies. Every submissive willingly does: bound and helpless, expecting the ecstasy of her master’s lash. Never mind the leather—clothed or naked, she is stripped down to only the most basic physical and emotional need, completely exposed. But it’s this swirl of sensations and feelings that combine in a perfect storm of kink and makes the seemingly impossible not only occur, but happen in a way that creates a sexy good time for everyone involved. The sensual stories that Alison Tyler has assembled in this collection delve into the dynamics of relationships filled with such unrestrained passion, revealing a world of beautiful contradictions that will thrill and inspire you. Some of these tales show how the everyday can be instantly transformed into pulse-quickening moments laced with eroticism.

Nobody likes bondage more than Alison Tyler who is endlessly fascinated with the sensation of giving up, giving in, of putting one’s pleasure (and pain) into the hands of another. To her, bondage means “I trust you to keep me safe,” and yet BDSM can also mean, “I trust you to hurt me.” Because the most important part of bondage, of dominance, of all the slippery ways one can play with those concepts is trust.In the BDSM realm, trust involves crops, whips, blindfolds, handcuffs, paddles, belts, gags, and toys. How deliciously, devilishly twisted is that?

And here's an excerpt from my story:


A bead of sweat ran down the side of Philip’s head and trickled into his hairline. He’d been lying flat on his back on the cold parquet floor for what felt like hours. Realistically, it probably hadn’t even been one hour, but because he’d been trying so hard not to move a muscle for fear of toppling the stack of hardback books resting on his abdomen, every single minute was torture.

And yet, at the same time, it was complete and utter bliss. Giovanna was sitting on a wooden chair, the legs of which were either side of his hips – as were hers – and she was using the pile of books as a table. She idly flipped the pages of the weighty tome she was pretending to read, and studiously ignored Philip, as though he really were nothing but a table.

Philip’s cock had never been so hard. He was torn. Part of him wanted the books to fall so Giovanna’s beautiful eyes would flash with anger and she would punish him the very best way she knew how. The other part wanted to please her, in the hope that she might let him bury his face between her thighs and lick her delicious pussy to orgasm, and maybe, just maybe, be allowed to come himself.

Another droplet of sweat followed the first one into his rapidly dampening hair. Philip’s erection strained beneath his clothes, and he decided to try and distract himself by thinking of something else. Trees. Taxes. Tridents.

It didn’t work. Instead, his mind wandered to how he’d gotten into this predicament in the first place.

Giovanna was Philip’s boss – in the usual employment sense, as well as the mistress and slave sense. Just a few short weeks back, he’d been wandering the high street of the town he lived in, and had come across an amazing-looking bookshop. He’d peered through the window, fascinated. The slightly gloomy interior was all dark wood and spiral staircases, and was a book lover’s wet dream. And Philip was a book lover. Turning, he made for the door. As he reached it, he noticed a sign stuck to the pane of glass in its centre.

EXPERIENCED BOOK-KEEPER WANTED.
COMPETITIVE RATES.
APPLY WITHIN.

Philip didn’t need a job. He was, in fact, a highly qualified accountant, and some of the past investments he’d made had come good and meant that he could live very comfortably off the profits. In fact, it wasn’t worth his time to work as the tax man would pinch even more of his pennies.

Philip didn’t need any books, either. His custom-built home library was fully stocked with an abundance of fiction and non-fiction, and he really needed to read and get rid of some of them before he started purchasing more.

He peered through the door, catching sight of a voluptuous bespectacled woman standing behind the till, writing in a notebook. She sure was easy on the eye, with her long dark hair pulled up into a high ponytail, and the hint of ample cleavage peeking out of the top of her blouse. She must have caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye because her head snapped up from what she was doing and she looked straight at him. Peering over the top of her glasses, she continued to gaze at him, unsmilingly. Many people would have found her demeanour cold; unapproachable.

Philip pushed open the door and walked in. Before he knew what he was doing he’d walked straight up the counter and the aloof woman behind it, and said,

“I’m interested in the job.”

She put down her pen and raised an eyebrow.

“And what are your qualifications?”

He was, in fact, vastly overqualified for the job she was offering. He could do the paperwork for the bookshop standing on his head. With one hand tied behind his back. However, the cool, unimpressed stare the woman gave him made him want to impress her – and so he gave her the full whammy of his qualifications and experience.

The woman’s face had remained impassive.

“It sounds as though you’re used to much bigger accounts than you’d be dealing with here. Why on earth are you interested in this job?”

Because I want to fuck you.

Intrigued? Grab your copy here.

*****

Lucy Felthouse is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over seventy publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include Best Bondage Erotica 2012 and 2013, and Best Women's Erotica 2013. Another string to her bow is editing, and she has edited and co-edited a number of anthologies. She owns Erotica For All, and is book editor for Cliterati. Find out more at http://www.lucyfelthouse.co.uk. Join her on Facebook and Twitter, and subscribe to her newsletter at: http://eepurl.com/gMQb9