Can you keep a secret?

I can…at least for a little while longer.  The Smutathon continues, so take yourself over, read some delicious, sweet secret filth and vote!  I can’t tell you which one is mine yet, but don’t worry, at the end we’ll all spill our secrets!

Ok…not all of them…but we’ll at least tell you who wrote what!

P.S. Yes…I know I’ve been quiet…I’m hunting rabbits you know!  oh..alright, I’m not, you got me.  Bear with me though, okay?

The Painter ~ The Smutathon

I made it through the first elimination!  There were a definite couple of runaway favorites but I did manage enough votes for my story ‘The Painter’ to move on to the next round.  We’ve already received our next challenge and I’m pondering it…hopefully the muse will cooperate soon!

But, in case you missed the first round here’s my entry…

The Painter

She watches my hands, always.  Whenever I work I know I’ll find her near, peeking through the sweep of her hair, eyes tracking my movements.  Lindsay was one of the first visitors to my studio; now the most frequent.The painting is near complete.  I can feel her gaze on me as I add the smallest of final touches with small twists of my paintbrush.  Never before has she stayed so long.  I wonder if she realizes it’s her portrait.  “It’s beautiful,” she whispers; she’s so close my heart lurches.  When our gazes meet my stomach takes a lazy tumble.  I realize for the first time she’s gold flecks in her ultramarine irises and there’s a splash of raw sienna freckles across the bridge of her nose.  A scent, crisp and bright as cadmium yellow twists through the sharp bite of turpentine.  Lips find lips; hands discover the shape of waist and hip.  The hollow of her throat tastes of sweet sweat, her nipples tightening into peaks of Persian Red.  Inch by inch I paint her body with my tongue just as I painted her image, filling my other senses with her.  Her lust I taste and label as the rage of Scheveningen reds, my tongue delving, drinking, stroking.  And when she twists her fingers into my hair, urgent, voice calling, I lose all thought of color, lost in the taste, the feel, the sound of her.  My senses opened and caught, imagination ensnared.

A Smut Marathon!

The incomparable Alison Tyler has, with her amazing ability to challenge writers everywhere, began a Smut Marathon.  When she opened the call for writers to participate I couldn’t resist tossing my hat in the ring, and despite everything going on in my life right now I think I can manage 250 words every couple of weeks!

Of course, she’ll tell you I slid in under the wire for yesterday’s due date…I promise, AT, I’ll try not to do that again!

So please take yourself over and vote for your favorite piece!  This is something like an American Idol contest(or so I’m told, I’ve not watched it) where the receiver of the most votes gets immunity and the bottom two are eliminated.  The lineup is amazing, so be sure to take a look!