Full article here. The story is a hot mess...

This just reinforces for me why it's so important for those of us writing characters of color to keep doing what we do. And to seek out alternative means of publishing, like what we do on Tumblr and AO3, or via self-publishing if we are seeking payment. Let's take advantage of ways to bypass the narrow-minded gatekeepers. Same goes for people writing stories across the spectrums of gender and sexual expression. Keep at it.

The gatekeepers are aggressive roadblocks to diversity in an evolving world. There are groups of people who want to read stories involving "marginalized people." Who are starved for these kinds of stories. Authors, please keep putting your voice and perspective out there in any way you can. I will continue to do the same. ❤️❤️❤️

Deceiving Looks Masterpost

This is a Mrs. Robinson-type story with Robert and Josephine, an older woman, connecting in Hawaii. Robert must steady his composure to enjoy Josephine’s company. Josephine is pleasantly surprised by the new tricks that Robert brings to her. Embers of flirtation are stoked to something hot and uncontrollable.

I hope to write more soon!

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3 

Eye of the Storm, Ch 10

Here’s the next installment of this story. The master post is here if you’d like to catch up.

It’s the morning after, the first full day of living with Robert. There’s no smut, just Maggie letting it sink in that she’ll get closer to Robert than she ever dreamed. Lots of fluff, lots of joyful inner dialogue. ♥♥♥

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Sun streamed into the room through the glass balcony doors. Maggie opened her eyes. She was in a large, modern bedroom, with the sound of the ocean in the distance. She processed the fact that she was sprawled crosswise on the bed, tightly wrapped in a blanket. It took her a while to understand. But then she remembered.

Robert. She was living with Robert. They were together. For real. 

She couldn’t stop the smile that spread like wildfire on her face if she wanted to. Living with Robert was a milestone she had dreamed of. But as much as Robert seemed to want more between them, his focus had the attention span of a gnat sometimes. She was glad that serendipity had stepped in at the soccer match.

She broke free from the cocoon of blankets. She thought it was sweet that he had made her comfortable right where she had drifted off after indulging in the full menu of his lovemaking. Then she smiled at another loving touch from Robert: his concert cherry kimono was waiting for her on one of the posts at the foot of the bed. She mentioned when they were falling asleep that she had forgotten her robe at home, and he offered up the familiar garment for her use, admitting that it was too small for him now. She put it on and sat on the bed. Memories of the 75 tour floated back to her. Robert was frustrated with the time it took for his voice to warm up some nights, but when he kicked into high gear, the two hours-plus of the shows were back to their otherworldly standard.

She stretched and walked to the balcony. She couldn’t believe that this would be her life for the near future. She couldn’t believe how thoughtful Robert could be as a domestic partner.

She sighed. The ocean breeze was present, but the day would be warm and sunny. Directly below she took in the expanse of the yard and ticked off several areas that looked promising for writing songs or getting into romantic episodes with Robert.

The natural beauty and the comfortable modern home combined for a perfect love nest. She imagined some of the domestic-minded activities that would fill their days. Cooking together. Walking Strider every day. Half-watching TV while they made out. Making sensual memories across every conceivable square inch of the place. It was just what she needed: an environment that would fill her with all the love and contentment that she needed to carry her into the uncertainties of a new band touring a new album. 

While Maggie daydreamed, a delicious kitchen smell wafted through the open bedroom door and slowly gained control of her senses. Her stomach rumbled. She realized whatever energy her body could’ve gleaned from dinner must’ve been long gone after her extended romp with Robert.

She was impressed that he had kept his promise and had breakfast underway. She’d never experienced his cooking before and had been concerned, but there was no smell of charring in the air. That encouraged her.

She looked at her bags in front of the closet and decided the robe would be enough for now. For both of them. She smirked and more fantasies of being skin to skin with Robert filled her head.

She’d unpack later today and pick out something cute to wear. Robert was such a clothes horse that they’d need to clear space for her to hang up her things. But she knew he’d be eager to take this step to help her settle in. At some point during the night, he encouraged her to change how the house was organized to make herself feel more at home. He had injected his personality into the environment a little, but he admitted that most of the look was thanks to an interior decorator who worked the magic while he was in tax exile closer to home. She had ideas and couldn’t wait to execute them.

She headed to the bathroom to clean up. She hummed the melody for I Want You during the shower. She didn’t know the words yet, but she had heard the song enough during the night to know that much.

After the shower she rewrapped herself in Robert’s kimono and heard him singing I Want You in another room. She loved that they both had the song on their minds. They weren’t the kind of couple that finished each other’s sentences, but maybe they were of the same mind in other ways.

She was impressed by how quickly Robert had picked up the words. The stereo wasn’t on; it was him singing as though it were his song, putting the emphasis where he wanted, adding in his own typical ad libs, making it more passionate. She chalked it up to yet another example of his voracious memory, the steel trap that lay in wait under his fluffy cloud of curls. They’d had many detailed conversations over the years about his earliest music memories, and she was always fascinated by what his young mind had squirreled away. He also enjoyed picking her brain to discover her favorite Latin artists. Without fail, when she told him about a new artist, by the next time they met he could rattle off a wealth of information about the person and could prove he had immersed himself in the music by singing his favorite song of theirs.

But it wasn’t just the music; he remembered every minute tidbit of information she shared about her life. On their first night together on the 75 tour, after being apart for months, he greeted her and asked how an LA concert had gone for her band. It was one that she was particularly nervous about because she knew big artists and label executives regularly haunted the place. As self-centered and flighty as Bonzo and others around Robert teased him for being, he had proven again and again that he would always make space for anyone and anything that he cared about. It just came on his own unhurried schedule. 

She lotioned her body, removed the towel that was wrapped around her head, and shook out her damp curls. She left the bedroom, eager to experience Robert's cooking. 

He was still singing Marvin Gaye. She paused to listen and heard her name thrown into the song. She was flattered and enamored, but also turned on because she realized he was singing to her. There was a strong sense of ache in his voice now, and she wondered if he was pleading for something from her other than physical release. She lingered to hear every raspy note, every soaring run of his voice, every drop to a more seductive murmur. His artistry was impressive, and the feelings he put on display when he thought no one was listening were more romantic than Maggie could ever put into words.

Then thoughts of breakfast took over, as she mentally ticked off all the things he’d said constituted an English breakfast. She could tell it would be delicious, by the way it smelled. She was impressed before she had consumed the first bite. Robert was always full of surprises, like these latent culinary abilities. She couldn’t wait to see what other layers of him she’d reach while they were together.

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The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag brownskinsugarplumlibrary.

Eye of the Storm, Ch 9

Got a little more NSFW, smutty hanky- panky for you. Maggie contemplates the life of a burgeoning rock star with a megastar boyfriend, and Robert gets vulnerable while in a vulnerable position. 😈 Thank you @firethatgrewsolow for the talk on the relationship angst.

Just want to reiterate that this story is AU--I make mention of Robert not being married. ❤️❤️❤️

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After some hushed pillow talk and more teasing and connecting of their bodies, Robert and Maggie drifted off to sleep.

Some time later, Maggie woke up, enveloped in Roberts arms, to moonlight flooding the room and the muted sound of the ocean. She smelled her perfume on him, mixed with his earthy, masculine scent. He was sleeping on his back and snoring softly. He’d piled his hair behind his head in hopes of cooling down after their lengthy tryst.

She nuzzled her cheek against his chest fuzz. It was one of her favorite places in the world to be, and it felt good to be back.

She had missed him, as she always did when tour dates or oceans separated them.

The lengthy gaps in their connections were the worst part of their unique relationship. Robert was always eager to wallow in the things that excited him about America while in the country, always eager to spend as much time with her as possible, but once his plane pointed toward England, things weren’t the same between them. He’d told her that he needed a few weeks alone to shake off his tour persona, but by then he was off to another pub or soccer pitch with his best mates, and English life with family and friends became far more seductive than she was.

Eventually he’d come around and they’d reconnect through letters and calls. She could feel his laughter during their phone conversations, and his sexy murmur still affected her from thousands of miles away when he unleashed it, but there was always a slight sense of distance. She knew that he didn’t have a wife and kids waiting for him, like Bonzo and Jonesy, and she knew that he cared for her, but he could not be moved from his wish for sanctuary and time for the rambunctious US fans and silver-tongued hangers-on to fade away.

It, by far, was the worst part of their arrangement, worse than knowing that Robert was galavanting with other women while on tour. There was no human competition; instead, there was a wall he’d built to guard his real life. She was glad to hear him admit earlier, at last, that the distance between them, this time apart in the same big state, hurt him as much as it hurt her.

It was satisfying to hear Robert speak from his heart, without hiding behind jokes or the sweet diversion of his seduction. She hoped this revelation, and the bond that would be formed with their extended time together, would lead to her first trip to his country sometime soon.

Maggie loved that Robert was so unflinchingly sure about his vision for their future, and she was beyond excited about it, but she wondered what would happen when they encountered people who didn’t care about any of that.

She had recently became more aware of the perks of being a front woman, and she could understand why being the lead singer was such a drug for Robert and others. The reaction from her regional touring was much more intense than when her band played the hyperlocal bar circuit in San Diego. It was new and exciting, she had to admit–having such a large number of eyes on her, knowing the crowd had felt and enjoyed the energy she gave to them, feeling the rush of their collective, appreciative energy washing powerfully over her, and gaining groupies of her own.

She knew her throng of admirers was nowhere near the harem that often waited for Robert backstage, a spectacle she had witnessed plenty of times, but there were men who showed up with flowers and flattering words for her, more than before. Their smiles were sometimes admiring, sometimes leering. Many of them made her skin crawl, or she sensed a creepy, possessive threat behind their flirtation. But some were men who sincerely enjoyed her music and wanted to spend a little more time with her. Some of that number were cute, too cute to resist. She had found herself in this same nighttime cuddling position with those men, but she could say it never felt as right as it did with Robert.

She sighed and stretched her legs. Robert stirred and held her tighter without waking up. The thoughts of future tour life persisted. She realized that it had been a few years since Robert last brought up the topic of her post-concert nights. Robert had told her many times that he couldn’t possibly demand exclusivity from her, knowing his reality, and now she wondered if his lack of curiosity was due to an easygoing spirit or a delicate heart. Only time would tell, under their new arrangement.

Knowing those concerns could wait, she turned her attention back to Robert. Even asleep, without his expressive face in motion and his arsenal of charming words, he was irresistible. His classical jawline was relaxed, with his mouth open slightly, but his eyelashes fanned over his skin, creating a shy, boyish expression. It made her wonder what the schoolboy version of Robert had looked like.

Fully awake now, she decided to rouse him for some company. She gingerly pulled back the covers. By the light of the moon she could see his chest gracefully rising and falling, the soft ripples of his abdomen, his dormant manhood, which still teased with possibility, and his sturdy thighs.

She wanted to trail her tongue and lips over every inch of his skin, but she knew that focusing on his sex would be the most efficient way to get his attention.

She wrested herself from his embrace as slowly as possible, and then she headed south. She trailed a finger down the length of his cock which, in its relaxed state, was still larger than what some of the groupies presented to her. She sighed and shuddered with delight as some of the best moments of the last few hours played themselves back in her mind and body.

She lifted and encircled her fingers around Robert’s manhood, licking him to life with straight and circular lashes, similar to the varied methods with which she polished off her ice cream cone during the day. Back at her car, Robert had given a blow-by-blow (as he insisted on calling it) commentary on her ice cream consumption and became engrossed in her work to the point that his cone started to melt and drip down his hand. The thought made her chuckle with pride while she continued her current labor of love.

“Mmmm… What’s so funny?” The vibrations of her laughter had done the trick. “He not getting there fast enough for you, lusty woman? Even he needs a rest from time to time.” Robert’s voice was more breathy and husky than usual upon waking up, and the sultry tone made a strong current of need surge inside of Maggie.

She paused and crawled up to kiss Robert insistently. “I was just thinking of how much you like this.”

“That I do, love…” Robert propped himself up with pillows while she headed back to his lap and continued. He smoothed her hair out of her face. She looked up at him briefly and her eyes did the smiling while her mouth was completely preoccupied with the full swell of Robert’s sex. And then, eyes closed, she continued.

“My favorite was that one time we flew from LA to Seattle. Remember? The turbulence? Ah, the sweet feel of your mouth, the tease of life and death in the balance with each unexpected dip of the plane… I tried to get you back in your seat, but you were committed… Fuck, ‘til the very end… Every last drop… Best flight since the first time we left the British Isles… We’ll have to see if our schedules align for the long flight to Texas next year, love… Mmm…”

Maggie opened her eyes briefly and saw Robert’s head slowly roll backward. His lips were slightly parted, and she could hear his hungry breathing.

"You always did spoil me, Mags. Mmmmm…" He inhaled sharply as she teased his sensitive underside.

"Now's my turn to spoil you… Breakfast in bed, coming up in a few hours. Full English. I love Betsy’s cooking dearly, but you Yanks just don't have that touch of English domestic magic. Had to get my mum to ship some packages of our bacon, even. You can only eat those American fried fat strips so many times you know?"

"Fuck, darlin'... Feels like you could be down there for the next couple of weeks, if I let you! Mmmmm…" He held her hair tighter with one hand, while the other migrated from a shoulder to one of her breasts. He put the pad of his thumb to work on her nipple, adding to the pleasure she was getting from his reactions.

He started to thrust lightly. “I know exactly which stores we should visit for your tour wardrobe. But why don’t you also pick out a few things of mine? I’d love to see someone wear that black bolero again… The one with the white trim that I was still wearing around the time we met? Won’t be fitting me anytime soon…”

Maggie moved one of her hands to cup Robert’s heavy-laden balls as she continued to bob her head and corkscrew her other hand on the expanse of his shaft.

Robert groaned and his body became restless with the slow build of pleasure. “I had a dream about you onstage… Couldn’t get your moves out of my mind, I suppose… Perfectly filled pair of hot pants and the tiniest T-shirt that put your tits in the spotlight… I was in the front row, and you kissed me. I fully enjoyed being on that side of the groupie exchange. Let’s just say I showed my appreciation of you in your limo... You almost screamed as loud as you did in the kitchen earlier!” His pride in his dream performance pulled the corners of his mouth into a Chesire cat grin.

“But you know, I must see your lovely ass in some leather pants. Maybe a leather halter, too? I saw a bit of Chaka Khan in concert, and she had on a sexy ensemble like that… Leather, feathers… It would look great on you, too.”

Robert moved his hands to Maggie’s shoulders and thrusted deeper.

“Fuck! Woman… Uh…”

Robert’s chatter dissolved into agonized moans for a time before he continued. “I’ll… I’ll need a private concert, of course… Uh… Yes, love… Right there… It’s high bloody time I cash in on the perks of rock royalty, you know? I can see it now, the band breaking into a saucy rhythm, and mi amor, all hips and waist movement and flying hair… And… And.. Ohhhhh… That voice…”

Robert closed his eyes and let his body take over. His hands flew to the sides of her head as he chased the climax on the horizon.

“I bought a bootleg of one of your concerts… Forgive me, love, but I know you have some of ours! Uh… Uh… Shit, I’m almost there!” he hissed. “I couldn’t stop listening to ‘Last Night.’ That’s my favorite, I think… Reminds me of us! ‘Last night, when we rocked and rolled, oh, you struck my soul, and you filled that hole in my heart.’” He gathered the last of his waning strength to belt out the song, the same as she had.

“You really lost yourself in the song… Your voice! So wild. Fuck! Baby… Yes, Maggie, yes, Maggie, yessssss… Uh… The first time I heard the boot… Hot as fuck… I couldn’t help myself, I… I… Uh… Ohhhhh, baby, yes… I thought of you on top of me, and I… Made me so fucking hard… My hands… Needed you… Had to make do… But not tonight, baby… Not tonight, not tomorrow… You’re here… In my life, in my house, my bed… Right where you should be… I’m so glad you… Ohhh…. Oh! Fuck! I…” Robert’s body stiffened suddenly and his seed coursed. His final moan rolled on for almost as long as his climactic note in Kashmir.

Maggie’s lips softened their grip as she withdrew his cock. She kissed the glistening head before retiring to Robert's outstretched arms.

“I’ve never been so happy to be up at 4 a.m.,” he said, glancing at the glow-in-the-dark clock. “Hell of a wake-up call, Magdalena dear…”

"Great conversation," she teased. “Can't wait for this breakfast you've promised."

"You'll have to wait a little for that meal, but I'm going to have a delightful feast now…" He guided Maggie to rest in his spot on the bed, and with the first stroke of his tongue in her sex, she knew breakfast could wait.

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The rest of my stories are here, or search for the hashtag #brownskinsugarplumlibrary