When Worlds Collide

By Ashe Barker (Guest Blogger)

Thank you, Lisabet, for inviting me back to your blog. It’s not that long since I was last here giving a shout out about Red Skye at Night. This time I’d like to chat a little about my other current release, Chameleon.

As I write this I am looking out of my window in the north of England at snow falling steadily outside. I suppose spring must be just around the corner, but that’s hard to imagine right now as I contemplate digging my car out – again. It’s at this time of year that my thoughts always turn to warmer climes and I start planning my summer holidays. For me that inevitably means finding my place in the sun, but I like to absorb my UV rays with a large side order of history and culture.

It was with that thought in mind that we decided to visit Morocco some years ago, the setting for Chameleon. It’s a truly beautiful country, close to Europe but a world apart. Morocco is a seductive blend of the traditional North African Berber way of life and the sophistication of a modern tourist destination. The French influence is everywhere, and I recall that this was particularly apparent in the hotels.

As is the case in many Muslim countries striving to attract Western tourism whilst retaining their traditional values, the hotels are often a microcosm environment containing an alien way of life. Alcohol is offered for sale, dress codes are more relaxed, even as far as tolerating topless sunbathing within the confines of the perimeter walls. But the contrast as soon as the visitor steps outside couldn’t be more pronounced – covered heads, modest dress, a proliferation of coffee houses serving a potent local brew which just about lifts the roof of your head off, and clattering with the sound of backgammon being played at lightning speed.

In the bustling, cosmopolitan Moroccan cities such as Tangier and Marrakesh camels vie with taxis and vans for space on the grid-locked roads – and often come out best. Children accompany tourists everywhere offering to shine your flip-flops or carry your bags in exchange for a dirham or two. Everywhere is loud, vibrant, teeming with life, in sharp contrast with the quiet serenity of the private hotels and riads.

The story is set in the Totally Five Star hotel in Marrakesh. Given that hotels can mask the traditional way of life, cocooning visitors in a fake reality, I wanted to make TFS Marrakesh as authentic as possible. I wanted to create a hotel which would be comfortable, offering the best accommodation, the finest services, a luxurious and unforgettable experience for guests but without sacrificing the qualities which are uniquely Morocco. So guests at TFS Marrakesh can enjoy fine wines and the best in international dining, but the hotel architecture echoes the traditional way of life which has evolved over centuries. It takes a little ingenuity on the part of Ethan Savage to adapt the facilities to suit his requirements as he introduces Fleur to his brand of BDSM, but I think he does a fine job.

I hope Chameleon succeeds in capturing some of the ambience of this atmospheric country. The main characters, Fleur and Ethan, couldn’t be more different. Their lives are worlds apart, yet they manage to find common ground, and the attraction between them is electric. This is a hot BDSM romance, erotic and fiercely sensual, but sensitive to the cultural issues this couple will face if they are to find their happy ever after. I suppose it’s fair to say that neither Fleur nor Ethan is especially true to their traditional roots, but their ability to compromise will be stretched to the max if they are to make this work.

Here’s an X-rated excerpt from the book.

Ethan raked his eyes over every inch of her from her small, slender feet, her slim legs, her smooth mound and slightly rounded stomach, up to her breasts and their swollen nipples now verging on the decadent. His eyes reached hers and held her gaze for a few moments before he lifted one finger, twirling it to indicate that she should turn around to show him the rear view.

Fleur obeyed, standing still as he trailed one fingertip along the top of her shoulder, from arm to neck, then slowly down her spine. It tickled, but she willed herself not to move. He reached the base of her spine and continued on, down the furrow between her buttocks until he reached the tight little hole of her anus.

“Shall we have a little biology lesson, submissive style? Bend over, please. If you need to rest your hands on the table, that’s all right.”

Fleur’s pussy clenched violently. It was starting. He was starting. Now. She had to move slightly to be able to place her hands easily on the table that pressed her bottom more fully into Ethan’s hands. It felt strangely nice. She had no qualms about doing as he asked, assuming the position and even spreading her legs before he asked her to.

“That’s good anticipation. Be careful, though. Usually, I’ll tell you exactly what I want. Can you open your legs even wider, please?”

Fleur complied and was rewarded with a long, open-handed stroke across her pussy, from clit to anus. Despite her anxiety, she groaned aloud.

“When I refer to your cunt, I mean all of this. I’m not being specific. Pussy means the same. I’ll use both words a lot. What would you call it?”

She thought for a moment, searching for the correct medical terms and translating those into English. Or was that Latin? She wasn’t sure. “I would say vulva, Sir. Or labia majora. Labia minora. Perineum. Vagina.”

“Ah, yes, very clinical.”

“But I do know pussy, Sir.”

“Excellent. We’ll be talking about your pussy and your cunt. Which includes here, too.” He slipped one long finger inside her, sliding easily through her entrance to bury the digit deep. He thrust twice before withdrawing to trace the outer lips on either side of her opening.

“Pussy lips. Clit?” He slid his finger forward to rub the swelling nub.

Fleur gulped, struggling now to hold still. “Yes, Sir, my clitoris. Clit. I am familiar with that word too.”

“You’ll be more familiar with it soon, sweetheart. You’ll come to know it intimately.” He swirled the pad of his finger lazily across the tip of her clit before working his way backwards to her circle her anus again.

“And here?”

“My, my anus. Sir. Oh!” Fleur jumped as Ethan slipped the tip of his exploring finger inside, now lubricated from his brief foray into her pussy.

“Arse to us, love. Do you like this?” He rotated his finger slowly, pressing gently to ease it past her sphincter.

“I am really not sure, Sir.” Then, as an afterthought, “It does not hurt.”

“It’s not meant to. I will hurt you, a little perhaps, but not by accident. And not now. I intend to be very, very gentle with your arse, when I fuck you here.”

Whether her unsteadiness was caused by his words or his actions, she had no idea. Fleur only knew she stumbled forward as her knees threatened to give way. Ethan slipped an arm around her waist quickly, holding her in position. His finger sank deeper inside her arse.

“Are you all right, Fleur?”

“I… I think I am, Sir. It is difficult to remain on my feet, though, while you do…that.”

“While I finger-fuck your arse? Is that what you mean?”

“Yes, Sir. Oh…” She ground out the words as he withdrew his finger then plunged it back inside, hard.

“Did that hurt?”

“No, Sir.” She braced her hands more firmly on the low table top, closing her eyes as his firm, rhythmic movements in her anus focused her attention totally. She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, biting down hard in her concentration.

Ethan continued to support her, taking most of her weight, she realised, as he thrust his finger in and out of her now unresisting arse. It felt good—incredibly good, in fact. Intimately wicked. This was in essence only the same thing he had done to her yesterday, but it felt different, more intense. And this time, she knew he would not stop at just a finger.

Fleur’s arousal grew. She panted, squeezing her pussy muscles. She wished he would—what? Touch her. She wanted him to stroke her clit.

“Please, Sir, could you…?”

“What, Fleur?”

“I want you to touch me, Sir.” There, the words were out. Well, he did say she had to articulate her needs. He had even taught her the words he preferred to use. She intended to prove a diligent pupil in the short time that she would have him as her tutor.

“Do you? Where? How?”

“My clit, Sir. Please.”

“How polite you are. I always find it amazing how a finger in her arse will do wonders for a sub’s manners.”

And here’s the blurb:

A chance meeting, two strangers whose paths cross—in the same place at the same time, yet a world apart.

When mining engineer Ethan Savage spots the cloaked, veiled woman riding a donkey in the Moroccan desert, he can be forgiven for thinking that in some respects nothing much has changed in two thousand years. She wouldn’t look out of place in Biblical times. They pass, nod, smile politely and go their separate ways, two strangers a world apart.

But when, moments later, she rescues him from his crashed car, the first words she utters make Ethan realise that appearances can be deceptive. His little Berber peasant is not what she seems.

Shifting effortlessly between her traditional roots in the foothills of the Atlas Mountains and her professional life as the Totally Five Star hotel doctor, Fleur is a human chameleon, able to adapt and blend into any environment. At first irritated then amused by the handsome stranger, Fleur knows the assumptions he’s made about her. As their paths cross once more at the luxurious hotel, she realises he, too, is not all he seems. This sexy Englishman holds the key to her most secret and sensual desires, dangerous yearnings she’s kept locked away for years. Now she has a choice to make.

Ethan is only in Marrakesh for a few days, then he’ll be gone and she’ll never see him again. No one will ever know, so surely it will do no harm? Can she pass up this opportunity? And once she’s trusted him with her body, experienced all he can offer, will she be able to return to her old life? Or will the sensual chameleon need to reinvent herself once again to fit into his world?

Buy Links:

You can get hold of Chameleon from wherever you prefer to buy your ebooks.

Amazon.co.uk Amazon.com Totally Bound Barnes and Noble All Romance Sony Kobo

About Me

I’ve been an avid reader of fiction for many years, erotic and other genres. I still love reading, the hotter the better. But now I have a good excuse for my guilty pleasure – research.

I tend to draw on my own experience to lend colour, detail and realism to my plots and characters. An incident here, a chance remark there, a bizarre event or quirky character, any of these can spark a story idea.

When not writing – which is not very often these days - my time is divided between my role as resident taxi driver for my teenage daughter, and caring for a menagerie of dogs, rabbits, tortoises. And a very grumpy cockatiel.

I have twenty (at the last count) titles on general release, with several more in the pipeline. All my books feature BDSM. I write explicit stories, always hot, but they offer far more than just sizzling sex. I like to read about complex characters, and compelling plots, so that’s what I write too. Strong, demanding Doms are a given, often paired with new submissives who have a lot to learn.

I have a pile of story ideas still to work through, and keep thinking of new ones at the most unlikely moments, so you can expect to see a lot more from me.

I love to hear from readers. You can find me on my blog, and on the Totally Bound site. I’m on Facebook, and twitter and now on Tsu as well. I’m on Pinterest too, and Goodreads

R. Ann Siracusa’s Travelblog: Morocco

By R. Ann Siracusa (Guest Blogger)

Novel Ideas Come From Everywhere

One of the favorite interview questions for authors is, “Where do you get the ideas for your novels?” My answer: Everywhere. Everyone has a story. I keep my eyes and ears open and always ask, “What if ?”

But in particular, I get many ideas from traveling. Initially, being an architect, my main interest in travel focused on ancient cultures and the ways in which those cultures manifested themselves in structures, buildings systems, and design. I never guessed that interest would eventually blossom into a major source of inspiration for writing novels. But it has.

Now, when I travel, I look for the unique features of the country or for pieces of information about the culture that spark a story idea. Sometimes just a word, a phrase, a street scene, an historical event, etc. can spark a full storyline, other times they provide incidents to enrich a novel.

My current humorous romantic suspense series features a young tour director, Harriet Ruby, and a handsome Europol spy, Will Talbot, with a dark and troubled past. And what do you know? Every adventure takes them to a different part of the world where I have traveled. What a coincidence!

Why Morocco?

So, why Morocco? My second international trip [other than many trips to Italy and Sicily because my husband is Italian] was made to Spain, Portugal, and Morocco. That trip gave birth to the idea for my first novel in my current humorous romantic suspense series [Harriet Ruby: Tour Director Extraordinaire] and sparked my use of travel in my fiction writing.

But first, let’s talk about the Kingdom of Morocco [al-Mamlakah al-Maġribiyya]. Sounds incredibly exotic, and it is! Morocco, an Islamic country in North Africa, has a population of approximately 32 million and a land area of approximately 274,000 square miles. It is separated from the southern coast of Spain by the Strait of Gibraltar. Moroccan history goes back at least twelve centuries. In spite of a long and colorful history, it became an independent country only fifty years ago, March 2, 1956, when the French relinquished their rule.

Like many other countries, it has been conquered and inhabited by numerous cultures. The original Neolithic inhabitants, dating back to 8,000 B.C., were ethnically Amazighs/Berbers. As early as the sixth century B.C. the Phoenicians established settlements and eventually the area became part of the Roman Empire until around the fifth century A.D. when it was conquered by the Vandal, Visigoths, and then the Byzantine Greeks [in rapid succession]. The first Islamic conquest in North Africa in 670 A.D. brought Islamic expansion into this region. In modern history, France showed an interest in Morocco as early as 1830 and, after a series of crises, the Treaty of Fez made Morocco a French Protectorate.

Traveling in Morocco Today

Tourism a big part of the nation’s economy and Moroccans work hard at catering to visitors. It’s generally a safe place to travel [the crime rate is low, and the government is stable], but you have to expect to be hassled to buy things. The vendors can be very “in your face.” Everyone should respect the customs of the country/culture in which they travel, but in Morocco, in particular, women should be attentive to what they wear.

An increasing number of urban Moroccan women no longer completely cover themselves after marriage; you even see women dressed Western style in the cities. But you won’t see bare midriffs, low cut sweaters or shorts. Outside the major cities, it is rare to see a woman who is not wearing traditional clothing. In rural areas and small town medinas it is rare to see an unveiled woman.

Generally, female tourists traveling in Morocco are safe and are treated with courtesy, but sometimes are regarded as fair game by some Moroccan men. This is partly because of the way they dress and partly a result of widespread westernised pornography, which gives a distorted view of western women’s availability.

Getting lost in the Medina and the idea for “All For A Dead Man’s Leg”

The original idea for “All For A Dead Man’s Leg,” the first book in my humorous romantic suspense series, predates the writing by nearly ten years. On my trip to Spain, Portugal, Gibraltar, and Morocco in 1994, I asked our guide, Carl―I don’t remember his last name―about his worst experience as a tour director. His answer: when he first started working as a tour director, one of his tourists died in Morocco and they had to smuggle the body back to Spain to avoid delaying the tour.

What a great idea for a novel! Over the years, I tried several approaches, but none of them worked. In 2003, my tour director on a trip to Central Europe suggested I use it as the plot for a dramatic WWII novel set in Germany. That same tour director―Paul Fletcher―also told me his worst experience was when a tourist slipped crossing a ramp, caught his foot between the sides of two boats, and lost his prosthetic leg in the river.

Yes, that really did happen! As soon as Paul told me that―Boom―the tourist dying in Morocco came together with the tourist losing his prosthetic leg, and I was off and running. As soon as I got home, I started writing the novel.

Not only did the story idea for the first book come from the Morocco/Spain trip, but also the opening scene. There I drew from personal experience. In Tangier, with my tour group, we went to the Medina [the old walled city] which is a souk or outdoor street market. The streets [if you can call them that] were narrow and winding, it was crowded and hot. I stopped to buy post cards, and when I turned around, my group had disappeared. Instead of staying put, I set out to search for them and became hopelessly lost in the twists and turns of the market. Of course, I couldn’t speak Arabic and couldn’t find my way out. That’s when I realized I didn’t know the name of our hotel and couldn’t have pronounced it in a million years, even if I’d known. Since then, I always carry with me a business card from the hotel. You can show that to a taxi driver, even if you can’t say the name or the street. Live and learn.

Needless to say, my panic grew. Finally, I found and followed another English-speaking group, thinking that it would end up at the plaza where the tour buses parked. Wrong! It was a group from a cruise ship which, I found out later, was headed for an entirely different location. When the tour stopped at a carpet factory showroom for a sales pitch, I spoke to the guide and the showroom manager. He summoned an employee who dealt with, and knew, most of the tour directors. I described my guide. The man took me back into the Medina to look for Carl. When he found my group, I was so relieved and flustered, I gave him a fifty dollar tip.

I know now, the tour director would not have left me there, although I would have spent a couple of hours wandering around on my own and getting into who-knows-what kind of trouble. Assuming they didn’t miss me sooner, when the tour got back to the bus and Carl did his head-count, they would have sent someone back to find me. But what did I know? Not much, apparently, in spite of having traveled in Italy rather frequently. I saw this quote the other day, although I don’t know who said it. “Bad Choices make good novels."

About the Author

R. Ann Siracusa is involved in many activities, but her two favorite are traveling the world and writing fiction. This talented author combines those loves into novels which transport readers to exotic settings, immerse them in romance, intrigue and foreign cultures, and make them laugh. Her current humorous romantic suspense series, published by Sapphire Blue Publishing, features a young tour director, Harriet Ruby, and a Europol spy, Will Talbot, with a dark and troubled past. Each book takes the reader with them on an adventure in a different foreign country.

Travel to exotic lands for romance and intrigue with a novel by R. Ann Siracusa

http://www.rannsiracusa.com
The “Harriet Ruby: Tour Director Extraordinaire” Series
All For A Dead Man’s Leg
First Date
First Christmas Follies
All For A Fist Full Of Ashes
Coming this fall --Destruction of the Great Wall