Wednesday, August 29, 2012


Good morning all! It's a beautiful hump day morning here in NoVa and I'm not just saying that because I played hooky yesterday with the BF *grin*. Aside from my stolen day of wine and roses, I've been hard at work on two new WIPs. One is half of a two novella book titled BACKSTAGE PASSES and I'm fortunate to be collaborating with the wonderful Denyse Bridger on that one (love ya, Denyse!). The other is a naughty little BDSM piece working title: BLACKEST NIGHT.

To kick your hump day off the write way (hee hee), here's a sneak peek:

An older woman with dyed black hair in a black dress and black Doc Martins greeted me with a toothy smile. “Welcome, welcome. I’m Rocky and this is my little family. Nice to see a new face here.”
She took my hand and patted it.
A lump so large I couldn’t breathe formed in my throat. “I―I…”
“Relax, dear.” She rubbed my back. “You’re among friends here.”
“Thanks,” I croaked. “I’m Georgia.”
“Is that how you want to known? Most of us use choose a play name, but since this is a your first time we can go with Georgia.”
A play name? I hadn’t even thought of that. Online, I’d chosen the username “CuriousGeorgia” but I didn’t want to be thought of as mischievous little monkey, did I?
I ran a hand over my auburn curls. “How about Red?”
“That’ll work.” Rocky clapped her hands, drawing the attention of the group. “Everyone, meet Red. She’s a novice so play nice…or nicely naughty.”
Some of the others flipped waves at me or smiled, but most went back to their conversations.
“Get yourself a drink and mingle a bit,” Rocky said, squeezing my shoulder then she waved at someone across the room. “Nice to meet you Red.”
As soon as Rocky left, several men walked up to me. I felt like a wounded fish in the middle of a feeding frenzy. Sharks of all shapes and sizes schooled around me.
“Are you here to meet anyone specific?”
“Is this really your first munch?”
“What kind of play are you interested in?”
“Dom, sub or switch?”
Rapid fire questions came from every direction and I didn’t know what to say. Searching the room for Rocky, I saw she was on the opposite side, deep in conversation.
Near the banquet table, a tall man with a coffee-colored complexion, cropped black hair and a closely trimmed goatee stood staring. Well, not so much staring as he seemed to be drinking in the buzz around me. The cut of his shirt and slacks spoke of a man with a personal tailor. The clothing skimmed the outline of his well-maintained form without hugging it. His calculating stare pierced me. I blinked, trying to turn my attention to the bevy of men around me.
“I’m really new at this.” I put out my hands, the universal sign for back away, but this only seemed to intrigue them more.
Showing up here was a mistake. I’d been reticent to dive into the lifestyle for this very reason. But what did I expect? Doms dominated. It was their nature. The fable about the scorpion and the frog flashed through my mind. I felt even more absurd and out of place.
But then he materialized in the midst of the throng. Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome. A mere flick of his wrist dispersed the other men, no objections.
“Wow. Thanks.” I drew the tie of my wraparound dress through my fingers.
He stared at me without reply, handing me a flute of champagne. A gulp of the bubbly wine steadied my nerves.
“I’m Red.” I extended a hand which he declined to shake.
“You can call me Black.” His lips twisted into a predatory grin. “Or ‘sir’ works just as well.”
My pulse quickened, pounding so hard I found it difficult to breathe. It was as if he’d drawn all the oxygen out of the room.
“What side are you on?” he asked, his hazel eyes sparkling.
The meaning of his question took a second to register―he was asking me if I was a domme or sub.
“I don’t know yet,” I mumbled.
“Oh, you know. You’re just afraid to say aloud.” He brushed his thumb over my lips. Flinching at the overly intimate gesture, I shifted from foot to foot.
Leaning closer, he rested a hand my forearm. Fingertips brushing my skin, he murmured, “I can make you scream out which side you play on.”
A rush of breath escaped me―not so much an exhalation, but my body’s way of saying, Yes, please, I’d like that very much. My cheeks burning, my cunt equally as hot, I met his gaze.
He plucked a napkin from the table, scribbling a few lines on it. “Meet me here next Friday at eight. Don’t be late.”
His gaze fixed on mine, he paused a second. Maybe he was waiting for my reply or maybe the eye contact was for emphasis. My head swam, a thousand thoughts swirling around my brain. My body buzzed with excitement. Black was the one. No doubt about it.
“I’ll be there.” I took the napkin.
“I know you will.”
With that, he walked away and I watched his retreat, his confident strides hypnotic. Once he’d placed his glass on the table, he said goodbye to Rocky then exited, stage left.
No one else approached me. No one even looked at me.
I finished my glass of champagne and hurried to leave.

Have a great Wednesday!



Stacey Krug said...

Hi Cindy!

What a wonderful excerpt! I'm dying to know what happens next!


Cindy Jacks said...

Thanks, Stacey! This one is moving along very quickly. Black even woke me up at an ungodly hour, pushing me to tell more of his and Georgia's story. Should have first draft done by Labor Day Weekend :)