Well, my week and a half  off has begun. Not a lot of writing has been done as yet, butthat's because I ventured over to Skipton yesterday. A grand morning out. I even managed to dodge the rain!

Anyway, my muse is screaming in my ear. Lots to do: an edit to finish, 2 short stories to write for a couple of competitions, as well as another edit to start on a piece of work I'm hoping to finish and publsh later this year.

I thought you might like a wee peek at the work in progress so here's a sample. It's an erotic anthology. Ten stories featuring Eleanor, the Fantasy Girl. This is the first page from the first story. Let me know what you think...




THE ESTATE DRIVER 

         It was a dark coloured car. Big, sleek, and powerful. Just like the man and his cock, Eleanor thought, as she opened the door and slid inside.
         She took a deep breath and inhaled the smell of expensive leather and testosterone. Man. Turned on man. Immediately, she felt horny and wet.
         "Hi." Michael's hands flexed on the steering wheel and Eleanor smiled a smile that held a million promises.
        Of course, she had to. That was part of the fantasy. Never the less, she knew that she didn't have to fake it with Michael. This man, more than any other, made her blood zing through her veins and feel hotter than the sun.
        Oh yeah. She felt restless, edgy and needy.
         It was always the same whenever Michael arranged a meeting. He would always call four days before, and then she would spend the next four days reliving their previous encounters, often resorting to rubbing herself off just to try and alleviate her sexual frustration. It never worked.
        Only flesh on flesh could ease the constant ache. Michael's flesh.
        "Hello, Michael," she replied, her voice a sultry purr.
        They didn't touch. Not yet.
         Instead, Michael put the car in gear and pulled out into the dwindling early night time traffic.
         Eleanor's gaze dropped to his large, muscular thigh, and her hand itched to reach out and touch. To stroke the firm muscle that rippled whenever he changed gear. She swallowed a low moan as she felt a fresh pool of moisture between her thighs......



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