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Archive for October, 2010

I’ve always loved Halloween and dressing up in a pretty costume. Especially a can-can outfit with a white petticoat and layers of ruffles and black stockings. Imagine if you could go to Paris and dance the can-can at the famous Moulin Rouge. 

You can…with the help of a little black magic. 

That’s what happens to my heroine, Autumn Maguire, in “Naughty Paris” when she’s jilted at the altar and uses her pre-paid honeymoon tickets to go to Paris. She’s totally turned on when she sees a full-size painting of a sexy, lost Impressionist named Paul Borquet in a studio in the Marais District…

Here is an audio/video podcast of two short scenes from “Naughty Paris” — I’ve censored some of the language for the audio version; you can read the uncensored version below.

From “Naughty Paris:”

Something creepy is going on here. Oodles of perspiration bubble between my breasts, wiggle down my ribcage, then drip down my thighs as I pull and tug on the black velvet drape. I can’t thrash loose. My breath becomes sharper. The back of my neck is damp. Finally, I rip the heavy fabric off my face and–

–I see him. Staring at me with his eyes. Dark blue eyes that intrigue me.

A life-size painting of a man over six feet tall.

I grin, relaxing the tenseness in my face. So that’s what the drape was hiding. A super stud. Arms crossed, feet spread apart, and wearing tighter than tight pants that outline his impressive cock and he’s–

Laughing?

Creepy bumps pop up on my bare arms. The more I think about what I heard, the more I believe I must have imagined it. Hearing the man’s sexy laughter stirred carnal desire so dormant in my female psyche that I can’t tell what’s real or in my head. Well, look at him, will ya. He’s a painting, dammit! Touch him, no, not there. There. On his hand. Cold. See? He’s not human, so get off this goth kick and get the hell outta here. Oh, I forgot. I can’t. I’m naked.

So, girlfriend? He can’t see you.

I smile. Yeah.

So why not have a little fun and flirt with him?

==========

Things really heat up when Autumn finds an old statue of the Egyptian god Min (the god of fertility) and wishes she could meet Paul Borquet as lightning strikes her through the skylight window overhead…

I don’t close my eyes, but continue staring at Paul Borquet, wishing I could feel his arms around me, his lips kissing me, his body pressed against mine.

“You wouldn’t stand a chance if I were young and beautiful,” I whisper, shifting my weight from side to side. The wooden platform bends, squeaking under my wet bare feet. Lightning flashes overhead through the skylight, stinging my eyes like a thousand watt lightbulb slashing through the air. “I’d make you fall in love with me–”

I cry out when electricity jolts the bronze sculpture I’m holding between my breasts, sending a hot current through me and vibrating through my brain, raising the hair on my arms, and making my eyeballs bulge out.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I hear the old artist calling out that he’s going for help, but I can’t answer, can’t focus. All the muscles in my body tighten and I feel myself lifted up off my feet and zooming through space, as if something is flinging me skyward. An unexplained chill settles in me as if I’m in a swirling vortex as electricity flashes over my skin, racing in and out of my bod faster than I can blink.

What’s happening to me?

This isn’t my normal world. I want things dry and safe. Not wild and crazy. The electricity dances a choreography of darkness and light all over me, tracing the path of my sweat. I’m breathless and more than a little bewildered. Mix in bewitched and my trip to Paris is turning into the Rocky Horror Picture Show with French subtitles. This can’t be happening!

Thunder claps in my ears with a loud boom then–

–the lights go out.

Darkness. The humid air suddenly reeks of a strong musky scent. Male.

Coming closer…closer…yes…I hear that sexy laughter again as someone blows hot air into my ear, making me shiver. I twist my fingers on the statue until they burn, then my nipples harden into pointy peaks as if someone pinched them. Becoming aroused again, I let out a sigh when someone squeezes my breast and sucks on it, then moans. Who? Where is he? I can’t open my eyes, swallow or talk, or move my legs or hands, touch him, anything.

I can’t do more than make a desperate breathing sound as I lie–

Where?

Where am I?

========= 

Find out what happened to Autumn Maguire in “Naughty Paris” available from Harlequin Spice Books in both print and as an e-book.

Happy Halloween!

 Jina

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Cleopatra's Perfume by Jina Bacarr

 

 “The Berlin Sex Diary of Lady Eve Marlowe” is an audio/podcast series Prequel to my Spice novel, Cleopatra’s Perfume.

What I call a “story vid.”

Before Lady Eve Marlowe married a member of the British peerage, she was a cabaret dancer in Berlin in the late 1920s during the wild days of the Weimar Republic.

In Episode 1, Lady Eve was about to get paddled when she met a monocled gentleman with a secret fetish.

Click here to listen to Episode 1 audio podcast 

In Episode 2, Lady Eve received a paddling from a monocled gentleman with a secret fetish, but in her mind she pretended it was the sexy man in the black cloak and Fedora wielding the paddle.

(Click here to listen to Episode 2 audio podcast.)

This week Eve learns more about the mysterious man in the black Fedora and struggles with her desire to learn more about the act of submission…

Episode 3: Eve is lured into a secret love cult.

 Written, produced and hosted by Jina Bacarr. Music: “Paris” Composer/ publisher: Dan Graham, PRS, Shockwave. Visit http://www.jinabacarr.com

As a reminder, The Berlin Sex Diary of Lady Eve Marlowe contains adult subject matter and is intended for readers 18+ only.

Coming up tomorrow, Friday, October 29th: Go to “NAUGHTY PARIS” this Halloween. A special holiday story vid!



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Last week Lady Eve was about to get paddled when she met a monocled gentleman with a secret fetish.

This week Eve gets her paddling…

(Click here to listen to Episode 1 audio podcast.)

 “The Berlin Sex Diary of Lady Eve Marlowe” is an audio podcast series Prequel to my Spice novel, Cleopatra’s Perfume.

Before Lady Eve Marlowe married a member of the British peerage, she was a cabaret dancer in Berlin in the late 1920s during the wild days of the Weimar Republic.

 Episode 2: Eve discovers the sublime delights of paddling 

  

Written, produced and hosted by Jina Bacarr. Music: “Paris” Composer/ publisher: Dan Graham, PRS, Shockwave. Visit http://www.jinabacarr.com

 

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Cleopatra's Perfume by Jina Bacarr

“The Berlin Sex Diary of Lady Eve Marlowe” is an audio podcast series Prequel to my Spice novel, Cleopatra’s Perfume

 
Before Lady Eve Marlowe married a member of the British peerage, she was a cabaret dancer in Berlin in the late 1920s during the wild days of the Weimar Republic. 

 


Episode 1: Eve meets a monocled gentleman with a secret fetish. 

Written, produced and hosted by Jina Bacarr.  Music: “Paris” Composer/ publisher: Dan Graham, PRS, Shockwave.  Visit http://www.jinabacarr.com  

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Backstory:

When Lady Carlton–Katie–wrote her memoir, The Blonde Samurai, she inscribed it in first person. But for her own pleasure, she was curious about what Shintaro thought about her, a Western woman who had come to Japan as a virgin bride in 1873.

She decided to find out.

By asking him.

During the late afternoons when a titillating breeze cooled the day and the passing of time stopped for the drinking of tea, Katie and Shintaro sat under the flowering cherry blossoms and warmed their hands around tiny tea cups and talked about their first encounter at the Imperial Palace.

What follows next is the third of three episodes of “Tea with My Samurai,” depicting this scene that appears in Katie’s memoir but instead told from Shintaro’s point of view as he related it to her during their teatime conversations.

Lord Shintaro speaks of the first time he saw Katie outside the emperor’s Imperial Palace in Tokyo (spelled Tokio at that time).

(Katie’s POV of the same scene appears in “The Blonde Samurai” on pages 154-156.)

 To read episode one, click here

To read episode two, click here.  

 

PART 3:

Then another performer entered this outdoor Kabuki play, undoing the samurai’s fun with the beautiful female.
    A portly Englishman.
    Wiping his forehead with a tissue and panting as he struggled to catch up to the woman.
    Legs spread apart, Shintaro stood watching the man make the long walk up to the gate, bowing and calling out in the language native to the samurai. The man was a go-between, he decided, acknowledging  the intruder’s language fluency when he did his best at introductions.
    Shintaro grunted again, then barely nodded. He had no doubt the woman understood his lack of a low bow indicated his superior status to her. Tapping his fingers on his scabbard, he waited to see what she would do next.
    To his surprise, she mimicked his gesture then turned her back on him.
    By the gods, she was insane.
    His left hand went to his short sword stuffed into his sash belt. He squeezed the handle tight. Had they encountered each other on a country road, he had no doubt he would have carried her off and seduced her into his futon. Stroked her pale flesh with loving caresses and licked her full breasts before biting on her hard nipples and arousing her until she begged him to fuck her.
    Protocol prohibited him from doing so at the gate of Imperial Palace.
    Eyes flashing, he barely controlled his rage. He could not understand this particular madness that made the woman defy him so openly. She must be taught a lesson. Here. Now.
    Without another thought, he grabbed onto the long train of her dress and pulled on its velvet folds, the nearness of her tempting him to rip it off her and run his hands up and down her nude body.
    To his delight, she stopped short and lunged backward, nearly losing her balance.
    Would the gods deliver her into his arms? he wondered.   
    A seedless cloud passed overhead, casting a shadow over the scene, as if the deities ignored his primal need. Instead the Englishwoman regained her balance, but not before dropping her parasol. It clattered down on the hard ground behind her. She ignored it. Instead she turned and glared at him, but he wouldn’t let go of her dress. Laughing, he pulled on it hard, so hard she couldn’t move.
    “Release me at once,” she yelled, hands on her hips, then she said words in English he didn’t understand, though he imagined they were of a defamatory nature since the go-between, fanning himself with his hat, apologized many times over for her. 
    Shintaro grinned wide at her, enjoying watching her helpless. For a moment, he forgot he was samurai and she was gaijin. Foreigner. That he was most likely under surveillance by his enemies at court. Men who would see him ruined.
    They were two people caught in a game of attraction that sparked a passion in him. In her, too. He could see it in her eyes, defiant yet curious. His mood changed. Such a game was dangerous. Both to him and to her. For reasons he didn’t understand, he cared about what happened to her.
    Reluctantly, he let her go. Lips parted, she looked back at him, questioning, then, with a quick movement, she picked up her parasol and raced toward the pavilion with the Englishman close behind her.
    Shintaro remained still for many minutes, his hand still on his sword. The moment between them had passed, but not the feelings she had aroused in him. Hot, tempestuous. She was a firebrand. Yet he knew the gods would not look kindly upon him if he dared to meet her again.
    He gritted his teeth. Never again would he allow himself to get close to her. But it was already too late.    
    That moment at the palace gate he knew his fate.
    Shintaro burst out laughing as only a condemned man could when he knew his time had come, for he was condemned never to forget her.

–end–

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