Chained

By Kelli Key (Guest Blogger)

It is all Lea Schizas' fault.

The founder and editor of MuseItHot and I were talking one day about the difference between erotica and porn. (Keep in mind my normal genre is historical romance written as Killarney Sheffield.) Now, I like many people did not understand the difference until Lea recommend a couple of erotica/romance reads to me. I read them, very red faced and without telling my husband who, knowing him would find the whole experience...titillating?...Yeah, pun intended. Anyway, I read these stories and said to Lea, “I simply could not write that kind of thing.”

Her response? “Sweetie, I just read your 5^th historical romance submission the other day and honestly it is a cat's whisker short of a soft erotica.” Well, imagine how red faced I was at that point. I figured why not give it a try?

A week later I subbed a short erotica called "Larger than Life" for the MuseItHot 'Lacey's Lamp' series. Long story short I was astonished to receive an acceptance letter from Lea. By this time I was feeling pretty cocky...again, pun intended, so I sat down and wrote my October 28^th 2011 release, Chained. Or rather, Shianne, the heroine highjacked my muse and spilled her life story out onto the page. Hence 'Chained' was born and along with it my dabbling in soft erotica. Chained is essentially the coming of age story of a young woman in 1974. She makes many mistakes along her journey until one lands her in the arms of Ben, a chain gang corrections officer. Will her mistakes cost her the love she has finally found? You'll have to read the book to find out.

Blurb

Everyone feels chained...sometimes.

Shianne is a 70's teen crossing over into adulthood. When she makes the mistake of trusting the boy her mother warned her about she finds herself alone and wanted by the law. Then she meets Ben. Hiding out on his dairy farm isn't exactly a city girl's dream but it seems her only choice. She doesn't count on falling in love. If he learns the truth will she lose him forever?

Excerpt

My boots make a squishing sound and I stop. Oh gross, I'm ankle deep in cow excrement. That's right. Shit. If there's one thing worse than the smell, it has to be walking through it, or so I think at the time. I would learn later falling in it is far worse. I literally wade through puddles of excrement and out into an even larger open area filled with black and white cows, big squares of ground up straw, and large cement bunks filled with what looked like regurgitated grass.

“You start by raking the manure out of their beds, and then add a bale or two of fresh straw from behind the barn.” Ben points to the squares, where many of the cows are lying down chewing bubblegum. Okay, it looks like they are chewing gum although I never do see any of them actually blow a bubble. Maybe cows can't blow bubbles. It doesn't make sense to me to chew gum in the first place if you can't blow bubbles, unless of course you have really bad breath. I can only assume a cow's breath is pretty bad, judging by what comes out the other end...

I frown. Cows crap in their beds. God! Even my little brother never pooped in his bed, he peed in it for a couple of years though. “So, I scrape the...shit, from the beds, that's it?”

He grins and I think I should have kept my big mouth shut. “You also need to shovel the holding area into that pit there, but wash the holding area and the milking parlor down with the hose first.

Okay, it doesn't sound that hard. Like I said, I should learn to keep my big mouth shut.

With a final grin he says, “I'll check on you on my break. Have fun.” He saunters off. I have never been so close to calling someone an asshole as in that moment.

Fun? Fun is riding the roller coaster at the fair, dancing to the latest rock and roll record, or hanging out with friends. Shoveling shit does not qualify as fun. I get over it and head for the parlor. The water is cold, but the job itself is not so bad. I don't mind spraying everything down, it's kind of satisfying to get everything spic and span.

The hose takes some getting used to; it’s not your usual little garden variety but a big fire hose type thing. It’s stiff and heavy and, as I discover, hard to hang onto if you turn the nozzle on full blast. By the time I finish the parlor and move on to the holding area, I'm not having such a bad time blasting the watery manure down the grate in the floor.

After I finish washing, I head for the cow beds. Most of the big animals get up and hurry away as I approach, but a few of them turn to stare at me. I have to admit, they make me nervous. I remember my dad telling me animals can tell if you’re scared of them. I wouldn't say I'm scared of cows, I just have a very healthy respect for them. Very healthy.

So there I am, minding my own business when I sense something behind me. Just before I turn around I feel hot breath on the back of my neck. As I spin around, heart pounding in my chest, I come face to face with the biggest cow on the planet. I'm not sure whether to be frightened or just grossed out. Big snot stringers hang from the cow's nose as she sniffs my shirt. I stand there, trying to decide what to do when she swings her head and snots on me. I scramble backward, forgetting the bed area is raised six inches off the main floor by a concrete lip. Before I see my folly I end up flat on my back in three inches of cold, gooey shit. Next thing I know I am surrounded by big, snotty, slobbering black and white beasts. Panic makes my vision blur and my heart race. Holy shit! Okay, not literally, but I am in trouble now. I assume cows are herbivores but I'm really not sure. I'm lying there, trying to decide what to do when suddenly the cows scatter. Through the shit splatter I see Ben approach. He stops in front of me, hands on his hips. His shoulders are shaking and I realize he's trying to keep from laughing out loud. What a jerk! I fail to see anything funny about someone else's feces oozing into my underwear.

“Need a hand?” When he extends his hand to help me up I seriously think of snubbing him, but I figure the least I can do is pay him back.

His facial expression doesn't change as I place my hand in his, complete with crap coating, and I wonder if perhaps he's used to being covered in grossness. Once I regain my footing his silent shaking turns to gut busting laughter.

Bio: Kelli Key is a mother, author and first time dabbler in erotica. (But we'll keep that between us as the kids go to Catholic school!)

Creating Strong Supporting Characters

By Mike Arsuaga (Guest Blogger)

When speaking or writing about a supporting cast of characters, movies usually come to mind. Starting in the 1920’s first British and later American film makers recognized the importance of them. Interestingly writers used the tool practically from the first novel written. Robinson Crusoe had his man “Friday”. Don Quixote had his squire Sancho.

This type of supporting character complements one or more main story figures, either by contrast or through some form of supplementation. The relationship is designed to enhance both personalities and make them come alive.

A good example is the character of Linda in “My Life as a Dog”. She is private investigator and shape shifter Drake Martin’s secretary. I used her insouciant competence to showcase his frequent inattention to detail. She is the classic “I am woman; I am strong” female who balances work and family keeping both on course, while complaining of being under appreciated by all.

On the other hand nothing beats a good villain. Where would Superman be without Lex Luthor, or Batman without The Joker? The character of Cynthia in “Subspecies” provides a sometimes humorous, sometimes guileless, high energy teenage foil to Sam’s cool adult behavior, with insights only the young can come up with. The contrast between her persona and that of the main characters, Sam and Jim, more clearly defines all three of them. She’s the kind of character you can both laugh and marvel at. Without her the personalities of hero and heroine would be watered down.

You build a supporting character using the same methods as any other. Plan them out. They should have unique and believable attributes. In “My Life as a Dog” I contrasted Linda’s teased hair, East Texas speech, and general confident sassiness against Drake’s more laid back deeper thinking persona. That she doesn’t know about his shape shifting ability keeps tension in the interactions between them.

The character of Jethro from “Subspecies”, on the other hand, is what Mark Twain called “flourishing villainy”, that most despised of all creatures by humankind. Holding sway until the very end he keeps the hero and heroine on their toes, without respite.

So, build the supporting cast with the same care you take with the lead roles and the work, whatever the genre, will benefit.

BIRTH ANNOUNCEMENT

My employer, Cynthia Meadows, recently emerged lycan who exploded into the world of high fashion modeling with the force of an Atom bomb, wishes to announce the birth of “Subspecies”. The healthy novel of 73,000 words came into the world on May 6, 2011 at 12:01 AM. Ms. Meadows, whose professional name is “The Fashion Model Known as Cynthia”, will sponsor a series of promotions to be held throughout the web in honor of Samantha “Sam” Johnson, lycan mate of Doctor Jim White, himself a vampire and professor of mathematics. In addition to this imaginative site, the promotions continue at http://museithot.blogspot.com/2011/02/subspecies-samantha-johnson.html continuing on http://linsownfirebrand.blogspot.com/2011/03/lj-holmes-presents-subspecies.html and http://www.tony-paul.com/ .

The purpose is to celebrate the book’s release as well as the imminent arrival of The Subspecies' First Children, a litter of three, two females and a male. Due to Ms. Meadow's recent fortunate change in circumstances, the event has been relocated from Doctor White's apartment to the Grand Ballroom of the Charles Weston, the crown jewel of hotels in this university town. The event is monumental for all subspecies. As the first lycan/vampire couple, Sam and Jim have discovered the key to reproducing our kind.

All subspecies as well as their human familiars are invited.

RSVP at http://www.mikearsuaga.weebly.com or http://museithotpublishing.com

Subspecies by Mike Arsuaga

Available now from Muse It Hot Publishing!

Blurb

A sexy paranormal romance about the deep love between two very special beings

With Samantha “Sam” Johnson, Dr. Jim White, a 130-year-old Vampire, has the best sex of his life and it’s a shame she had to be his next victim. But she had a surprise for him. As a Lycan, she hunted him as he hunted her. After discovering each other’s secret, they cannot resist the physical attraction. Together they hunt and reach out to others of their kind using technology to form a support group. Sam and Jim become the first Lycan/Vampire pair bond.

As a mathematics professor and man of science, Dr. Jim rejects the ways and lore of old in favor of modern solutions that, if not acceptable to humans, allow Lycans and Vampires, The Subspecies, to live invisibly, because discovery is their worst fear.

The Subspecies are a mutation within the human genome. No more than 700 have been alive at one time. They cannot breed with humans or within their own group, but an unexpected event rocks the world of subspecies, opening a universe of possibilities with the promise of their lives being more than hunting, living in shadows, and fruitless mating.

Excerpt

Setting the scene:

A rain soaked, bedraggled, and hysterical Cynthia appears at Sam and Jim’s front door. Sam, a lycan like her, recognizes the early stages of emergence. The female lycans begin the ritual, excluding Jim. When he returns to the scene, Cynthia is a seven foot tall lycan, gradually resuming human form.

The scene unfolds:

“What is this?” I asked in awe. Lying on the floor, a sexually mature Cynthia, totally unmindful of her nakedness, gazed at me tiredly.

“What’s up Doctor Jim?” she murmured.

The sickly, pale skin changed dramatically. A rich and vibrant white, like marble or porcelain, replaced the dullness, the difference between pasty-skinned zombies from a low budget horror movie and Snow White. Her eyes and hair showed a new depth and shine. The once skeletal face filled out, still lean but not malnourished. The flesh still tautly covered handsome bone structure but with a new vitality and substance. Breasts rose from her formerly featureless ribcage, adhering to the saying more than a handful is a waste. Each presented a firm delta topped by a hard dark nipple, like a black cherry on a scoop of vanilla ice cream. A curve of hip projected from the waist. Her long legs filled out and acquired shape. A vivid black pubic triangle filled the space where her thighs joined. From it emanated the rich scent of her new sexuality. How did I not notice the difference between a female lycan’s scent and a human’s? I wondered.

A touch of color brightened Cynthia’s cheeks. “Doctor Jim, I had no idea!” she said dreamily with a flirt in her tone as she assessed me with lycan senses. “I think you’re hot, too.”