The heat woke him, stretched out naked on the soaking sheet, sweat beaded on his skin. His tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth, arid as the desert. Slowly, he rose from the mattress, limbs leaden, joints swollen and stiff, and made his way to the kitchen. He opened the oversized fridge. Frosty air raised goose bumps along his drying skin and he leaned into the cool void, relishing the relief. The Super had promised to fix the AC but, as always, they were empty words. He downed ice cold milk straight from the carton, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand once his thirst was halfway quenched.

He drifted over to the open window, but the air outside was as stagnant and scorched as inside his apartment. He could smell the heat in the air; a heady mixture of tarmac, fried food, dry grass, smoke and sweat.

There was a light on across the courtyard, one floor lower than where he was. Seems he wasn’t the only one awake. He saw a room with an unoccupied desk, a laptop, a large glass of water next to it and some scattered papers. Just as he was about to turn away and see what reruns were on TV at 3am he noticed movement.

A woman came into view. Dressed in a flimsy camisole and tiny shorts, she was piling her long heir up into a high ponytail. She paused next to her chair and raised the tumbler to her mouth. He could make out the gulping of her throat muscles as she greedily swallowed the water. He watched as some dribbled down her chin and cleavage, soaking through the thin fabric of her cami. Mirroring his actions of only minutes ago, she dragged the back of her hand across her lips before dipping her fingers into the glass and taking an ice cube to rub along her temples and throat.

He felt a fleeting moment of shame for spying on her, but it was the most erotic and unselfconscious act he had seen woman do in quite a while. And she couldn’t see him. There was no real harm being done…

She sat at the laptop and read the screen, stretched her head from side to side and shrugged her shoulders. Then she began to type. He was intrigued; her mouth moved as she wrote and she would momentarily pause and gaze into the foreground as if searching for just the right word or phrase.

At one point she stopped, turned and looked directly out of her window, her dark framed glasses perched at the end of her small nose. He froze, rooted in case he gave himself away, suddenly intensely aware of his nakedness and the growing swelling at his crotch.

He could never resist a bookish girl with glasses and, seeing her face in full, he could see she was more than pretty. She looked a perfect combination of sweet and sexy.

He allowed his hand move lower as he wondered just how filthy she could be once she took those glasses off.


written at 3am during my own battle with insomnia…

yes I’m sitting at my kitchen table,

but I have the blinds drawn down… no-one is watching me!

Would you like to see more of these two? Yes/No in comments please!

Copyright, 2016,

All rights reserved.


Heat… Elsa, Before



“Goddammit! Where did I leave my damn keys? Duke?! What am I like huh, boy? Every day I lose something!”

The old lab’s brown eyes followed her around the apartment as he lay on the rug, happily exhausted from their morning run in the park. As usual, Elsa was rushing to get ready for work and was relieved the summer break was about to begin in a couple of weeks. She loved her job, but teaching was a full-on performance art some days. She was all too aware that were several students taking her class simply to make up credits and not because they shared her love of literature.

She was ready for a break from working so hard to inspire them and ignite a passion for the written word. She was looking forward to a summer of playing with Duke and having some real time to return to her “Great American Novel”. She always put mental parentheses around it, a hangover from the derision with which her father viewed her ambitions. She hated that his lack of support, hell, his down right scorn for her chosen profession and her aspiration, still weighed down on her like a yoke on one of her father’s oxen.

She missed her Mom every day. Momma had been the one to arouse and encourage Elsa’s love of books, and later, when at 10 years old, Elsa shyly offered Rosie Compton her first complete short story, she sat and read it and then hugged her daughter tight, telling her how proud she was of her. Elsa had hated leaving her to go to college and later, to teach in a city in a different State, but Momma had scolded her, telling her to enjoy her life. Do all the things she wanted to do. All the things Rosie had never had the chance to do. She had never truly forgiven herself for not being there when Momma had gotten sick. Father had made the executive decision to keep her cancer quiet and it was only by a phone call that Elsa learned of her mother’s passing. She had never forgiven him either.

The ringtone of her cell broke Elsa’s trip down memory lane and refocused her. Checking the caller ID her heart sank to see the name Jody on the screen.

“Really? What the fuck does he want now?” she muttered, giving herself a fist bump in the air as she finally spotted her keys in the fruit bowl.

Grabbing them and bending to give Duke a final hug and his treat stick she thought, “Screw him, he probably just wants money,” dropped the unanswered phone into her bag and locked up the apartment.

The years since she had fled the farm, which is exactly how she had always thought of it, had been the most challenging but the best years of her life. Escaping her tyrannous father and bullish brother, not to mention the various local low-lifes in the nearest hick town was what she needed to blossom and grow into the independent confident woman she was now.

This is what she told herself on the good days. On the days when he didn’t cancel to be with his wife or kids. On the days when he showed up and swept her off her feet. On the days when he took her breath away with his passion for her, leaving her spent and exhausted as he showered, dressed and returned to his family home. But then, alone in her damp, sex scented sheets, she wondered why she was settling for second place. Her therapist had her predictable views about Elsa’s “Daddy issues”, especially bearing in mind the twenty-two year age difference between her and Tom.

Tom. Her lover.

Her boss.

The Dean.

Tom, who fitted her in around his work and domestic schedule, but treated her like a princess when they were alone.

Tom, who she adored but, she knew deep in her heart, would never choose her over his family.

Over his career.

But still, she had her life, her career, friends, Duke and most of all, freedom from the damn farm.

That’s what she told herself.

Work was hectic. End of term approaching meant lots of finishing up and marking to be done. After a crazy morning, Elsa finally sat on a bench in the sunny green campus and opened a pre-packed sandwich, idly checking her phone for missed calls. She was torn between annoyance and alarm to see a dozen missed calls from Jody and almost dropped the cell when it started ringing again in her hand… Jody.

“Hey, what’s wr….”

“Goddamn Els! Don’t you ever answer your fuckin’ phone?!” Jody sounded furious.

“Whoa! Cool it! I’ve been working! What’s the matter?”

Jody’s voice trembled as he said, “It’s Daddy. He’s sick Els. You gotta come home.”

Her blood froze in her veins. She knew this call would come sooner or later. Joe Compton had been an older man when he became a father, making him 74 now, and years of hard farm-work and hard liquor were bound to have taken their toil.

“What is it? How sick?” she asked, trying to slow her breathing. She wasn’t sure if it was the news of her father’s illness or the summons home that was causing the building nausea she felt in her stomach.

“Come home Els! It’s his liver. Cancer. He needs you,” she was amazed to hear her huge, brawny, aggressive, stupid brother break down in sobs.

“Jody? I’ll work this out ok? I’ll be there as soon as I can. For fuck’s sake hold it together ‘til then and listen to me… Stay off the JD ok?” she instructed, adopting Big Sis mode automatically.

Throwing her untouched sandwich in the trash she stood and headed back to the main admin building to organize an early summer break.



All rights reserved,


Fuck off Linus...
Fuck off Linus…

I am stuck.


I have an erotica series on the go that I love, perhaps too much, because I have become obsessed with the details of my character’s backstories to the detriment of my actual storytelling. I find myself online daily, researching cities and states in America that they could have come from, grown up in or travelled to, wanting to ensure that my plot makes logical sense.

It has crippled my writing.

I have the ending of the story more or less formulated in my head, along with a few sub plots and additional characters and storylines. But can I get them down on paper? Nope!

I think I know why…

I started the series on my blog as a private joke with a friend but soon fell in love with the characters and the “feel” of the story.

I secretly, (takes deep breath), would love to make this story into a novella, maybe more. If I am to achieve this, I think I need to stop blogging it, for two reasons at least.

Firstly, I would want people to want to read it in its entirety and why would they bother if they have read it already on the blog?

Secondly, and much more importantly, if I stop blogging the story I will feel freer to just fucking write it and can delay the worry about the geographic and practical details later when I redraft it.

Am I crazy to think I could do this? Make my little story into something bigger?

The thought excites and terrifies me at the same time.

Is that a good sign?

Have any of you guys out there taken on the same challenge and if so do you have any tips or advice for me?

I will appreciate any and all suggestions!

So, I guess the next instalment of Heat will be the final one on this blog.

For a while anyway, until I figure out if it can be anything more or not.


Copyright, 2015,
All rights reserved.

Heat… After Duke


Parts 1 – 5.

Waking up in a fog, for a few glorious seconds, Elsa forgot the horrible start to the day, until the memory of Duke’s battered and broken body came flooding back to her. Disorientated, she realised she was in her bed, covered by a thin sheet. Bill must have carried her here after she had exhausted herself crying against his chest.

Stretching, feeling the aching tension in her neck and shoulders, she lifted herself from the bed and wandered into the kitchen, surprised to see it was 3pm. Looking out the kitchen window, she saw him in the field, his hair golden in the afternoon sunshine, shirt off, sweating as he worked in the heat. She noticed her truck was parked off to the side of the house. Jody had brought it back while she slept. The thought of him made her roll her eyes; what the fuck was she doing? Giving up a successful career in the city to care for her dying father was one thing, but how did she end up still here, a year later?

Pulling on her sandals, she slammed the screen door and ran over to the truck. As expected, Jody had left the keys in the ignition.

“Hey! You alright?!” from across the field. Not waiting to answer, she gunned the engine and left the farm in a haze of dust, heading for town.

Bill walked over towards the porch as dusk settled, tired and hot from making up for the work time he had lost as he comforted Elsa earlier. He saw the truck back, parked at the side of the house, skid marks hinting at haste and carelessness.

He heard sobbing and her huddled form came into view, sitting on the porch steps. She made a pitiful sight; her cut off denims, vest and bare feet gave her a childlike quality. He saw her red, swollen face as she looked up at him, noticed the half empty bottle in her hand and it dawned on him that she had been drinking.

Sitting down beside her, taking the bottle from her and grimacing as he swigged a large gulp of the tequila, he turned to her, silent. Using the heel of her hand, she wiped her tears, leaving smudges of dirt on her cheeks.

“Elsa, how long you been here drinkin’?” he asked, “Have you eaten anythin’?”

“If I eat Bill, I’ll throw it right back up, I swear!”

Hesitant, he put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to his chest, aware that he was badly in need of a shower but wanting to offer her comfort.

“Tell me about him, about Duke?” he asked softly, his lips close to her hair.

“I rescued him when I moved to the city. I wasn’t used to being all alone and my apartment felt so empty and lonely. So, I went to the pound one day and there he was. His big brown eyes just melted my heart and I took him back home with me there and then.”

Bill smiled against her forehead and gently squeezed her shoulders.

“He was probably too big for my apartment, but I got up extra early every morning and we would run in the park together and I only had classes a few days a week, so I spent a lot of time working at home with him at my feet.”

Babbling, it was as if once she had started talking she couldn’t stop.

“Bill, he used to lick my toes! He loved licking my toes, couldn’t get enough of them. In the winter, if I had socks on, he would pull them off with his teeth so he could lick my toes…” she broke down again, the knowledge that Duke would never again steal her socks was just too much.

“Baby…” he whispered, knowing that was probably too intimate but not able to help himself. He wanted to erase her pain, take if from her and hold it himself. Seeing her like this tore at his heart.

Looking down he said, “You know what? Duke was right, you sure do have pretty feet, lady,” cringing at his feeble attempt to console her, to lift her, which he knew was pointless and stupid.

Her eyes turned up to him, shining with tears and she tilted her head up towards him, wordlessly asking for the kiss. He began to lower his to meet her lips until sense took hold.

“Elsa, I believe you are the single most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes upon, and I want nothin’ more than to kiss you, but if I do it, when I do it, it’s gotta be right. This ain’t the right time. Y’understand?” his forehead was creased with concern. He had made more than his fair share of mistakes in the past but this? this he wanted to get right. For once in his sorry life, he wanted to get it right.

“You hate me now, don’t you? I’m a fuckin’ fool!” she cried and pushed him away, stumbling up the steps into the house, “Go! Just go away!” she screamed, and for the first time since he had arrived to work on her farm, he heard her lock the door behind her.

Feeling like a complete idiot, Elsa bolted the door as fast as she could, not wanting Bill to follow her into the house.

“Elsa! It’s ok! I’ll go, but promise me to eat and to stop drinkin’? Ok? Elsa?!” from outside.

“Ok! Ok! I Promise. Just go!” she yelled back, knowing she was telling a lie.

There was no way in hell she could think of eating or stopping drinking. After seeing the dried blood and matted fur on the truck’s fender when she left the liquor store, she knew that she fully intended to drink until she passed out.

Slumping on the floor in front of the old worn couch, she raised the bottle to her lips, sobbing, “Duke…”

Copyright, 2015,

All rights reserved.

Heat… Duke


Parts 1-3

The sound of banging woke her. What the hell was that?

“Elsa?! Elsa! You home?” from the front of the house, followed by more banging. Stumbling out of bed she made her way to the kitchen to see Bill through the glass of the front door. She froze.

“Shit!” she thought, hyperaware of her state of dress, or rather, undress; wearing a loose wife-beater that barely skimmed her upper thighs, with armholes gaping wide enough to reveal the sides of her breasts. Running her hands through her bed head hair and trying to shake off the last vestiges of sleep, she realised the very thin cotton fabric was all that shielded her breasts. She quickly crossed her arms over her chest and called, “It’s not locked, c’mon in.”

“Can’t! Got my hands full out here!” he yelled back. She picked up the urgency in his voice and hurried over to open the door, horrified at what she saw in front of her.

Bill’s shirt was splattered with blood and in his arms lay a limp and broken Duke. Her hands flew to her mouth and tears immediately filled her eyes as she watched him carry her old friend over to the kitchen table and gently lie him out.

“What happened? Oh god no…” she wailed, panic stricken and confused, leaning over Duke and stroking the side of his face as he whimpered in pain.

“I found him on the road, must’ve been nicked by a car. I’m so sorry Elsa, it doesn’t look good for him. I called the vet from my truck, he’s on his way over,” his eyes, full of concern, searched her face, and he resisted the urge to hug her, to offer her comfort.

Tears running down her cheeks, no longer caring what she looked like, she bent over and cried, burying her head in Duke’s bloody fur, whispering soothing words to him. The old dog’s eyes gazed up at her, as if pleading her to make his pain end.

He let out another whimper and his eyelids slid shut.

“No! No! No! Duke! Duke baby!” she sobbed, unable to absorb the fact that her lovely, loyal dog was gone. She lifted his lifeless body and hugged him close to her chest, rocking him as she had done when he was stressed out by thunder as a puppy.

Bill stepped up to her, put his hand on her shoulder and murmured, “I’ll be right back. I’ll call the Doc, tell him to turn around.”

He came back to find Elsa cross-legged on the floor with Duke in her lap, stroking him tenderly. Crouching down next to her, he sat with her in silence.

Eventually he reached out and put his hand over hers. She turned to look at him and the sadness in her eyes broke his heart. He hated himself for what he was about to say.

“Elsa, you know what has to happen. I can do it.”

She shook her head, “No. That’s my job. Lemme get dressed. Will you stay here with him? I don’t want him to be alone.”

“Of course. And I’m helping, ok?”

She sank her head down and placed one last kiss on the Lab’s head before standing up and wearily walking back to her room.

Sweat ran down her face and neck as she shoveled the dirt. Standing beside her, holding Duke in his arms, Bill felt like a heel, but she had outright refused to let him dig, saying this was the very last thing she could do for her dog.

“That looks deep enough,” he said, worried she would hurt herself if she kept going.

She stood back, wiped her forehead with her arm, leaving behind a smudge of dirt, and nodded. Kneeling, he gently laid the dog into the hole and looked up at her, “Wanna say somethin’? A prayer?” he asked, squinting at the harsh sunlight that shone through her hair.

“Bye buddy. I love you. Go chase squirrels in doggy heaven,” tears once again flowing down her cheeks.

“I’m gonna fill it back in Elsa, I mean it. You are done in. Sit down a while, ‘k?”

She slumped onto the dusty ground and watched Bill put Duke to rest.

Back in the kitchen, “Why don’t you go get a shower? You’re covered in dirt,” he couldn’t help himself, he reached out and wiped the dirt from her forehead with his thumb.

“’K,” she mumbled.

“I’m gonna make you something to eat while you’re in there. No arguments!”

The smell of french toast wafted down to her bedroom as she dried off and pulled on shorts and vest top. It made her feel sick. Walking barefoot back to the kitchen, wet hair piled up on her head, she said, “Bill… I really can’t eat. I’m sorry.”

“At least have some juice,” he said handing her a glass of orange juice, which she accepted.

He looked at her; pale, swollen red eyes, wet hair. She looked forlorn, like a small child. Lost. He wanted so badly to take her into his arms and make it all okay for her again. How had she affected him so much in such a short time? He couldn’t remember ever feeling this before for any other woman. She had intoxicated him, without even trying.

He wanted to know her, to know everything about her.

He wanted to taste her. He watched as she licked the orange juice from her lips and wanted to know what those lips felt like on his. He wanted to reach out and touch her, feel how soft her skin was, trace every inch of her with his fingertips. He thought of her on the floor yesterday, flushed and breathless. He was sure he had interrupted her as she satisfied herself. Had she been thinking of him as she played? he wondered. Did she want him too?

“I’d better get on with the work Elsa, you gonna take it easy yeah?” he forced himself out of his head and back to reality.

“Oh Bill, I don’t think I can be alone today. Will you stay with me awhile? I’ll still pay you for today, of course,” her eyes looking up at him from underneath her fringe.

Smiling, he replied, “Sure thing, I’ll hang with you. Forget the money.”

A tear trickled down her cheek. He reached out and wiped it away with his thumb and she launched herself into his arms, her face pressed tight against his chest, clinging on to him for dear life as she sobbed uncontrollably. Wrapping his arms around her, breathing in the scent of her freshly washed damp hair, he whispered, “Ssssshhh, s’alright baby, s’alright,” rocking her gently and stroking her back.

Copyright, 2015,

All rights reserved.

Heat… Lunch


Part 1

Part 2

Bill pulled his sweaty shirt over his head and filled the sink with warm soapy water, his mind filled with the image of her on her knees on the floor, the flush on her cheeks, her fingers against her mouth. A smile tickled his lips as he wondered if he had caught her out, she had looked so embarrassed and, yeah, guilty…

Rinsing the soap from his arms and chest, splashing cool water over his neck and face he reached for a towel only to find there was none on the rail.

“Dammit!” under his breath and he stood straight and used his shirt to dry his hands, leaving the small bathroom and walking, shirtless, back into the kitchen.

“Um, Elsa, there was no towel in your bathroom…” he stood awkwardly in the entrance to the kitchen, torso dripping, wetting his jeans waistband.

“Oh my! Oh!” Elsa didn’t know where to put her eyes, wanting to stay and drink in the sight of him but also still feeling like a kid that had been caught doing something bad, “Here, let me get you one, I’m so sorry Bill!”

She rummaged in the hall cupboard and handed him a worn, faded towel, which he used to dry off the last few wet spots on his chest and stomach.

“Your shirt is damp… let me hang it on the porch for a few minutes. This sun’ll get it dry in no time,” she reached out her hand and he gave her the shirt, “Sit! Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right back.”

He took a seat at the table, then restlessly stood again and went to the counter, carrying the salad and cold cuts she had prepared over to the table, then the large jug of iced tea and was about to look for glasses when she slammed the screen door again as she reentered the room, a startled expression on her face.

“I… uh I wanted to help out, hope that’s ok ma’am, sorry, Elsa,” feeling like he had overstepped his mark, standing in her kitchen, naked from the waist up.

A wide, open smile lit up her face, “Well, I would never complain about a man lending a hand in the kitchen! It’s a novelty for me!” she fetched the glasses from the draining board and set them next to the plates arranged on the table, “Come on, before it gets cold.”

Throwing her head back and laughing at his puzzled expression as he looked at the spread of the food on the table, she said, “It’s salad Bill… I was kiddin’. My humour can be a bit of an acquired taste I guess…”

Red-faced and feeling like a complete heel, he sat and tried to think of something to say. She had such a powerful effect on him. He felt about 14 years old whenever she was near him, not like a full-grown man with a job, a truck, a house. He always felt at ease in people’s company, had never had any trouble with women before. She was something new altogether.

They took their seats, “Help yourself Bill, I made lots. Reckon it’s the least I can do what with you working so hard in that sun,” she said, pouring iced tea into the tumblers.

Taking a forkful of potato salad that tasted so damn good, “This is amazing Elsa! I didn’t realise how hungry I was!” he began to devour the food.

They relaxed, chatting about the scorching heat, the plans she had for the small holding, how she came to be running the farm singlehandedly. Talk came easy between them, as if they had known each other before. A sense of familiarity.


After they had eaten, he insisted on helping her with the dishes, “I’ll wash, you dry. No arguments.”

They were at the sink, laughing over a story Bill was telling her from his last job when the screen door opened and slammed shut with a loud bang, startling them.

“Dammit!” Elsa cried as the glass she was holding slipped from her hand and shattered on the stone floor.

“What in the name o’ hell is goin’ on here?”

She looked up from her crouched position, picking up the shards of glass, to see Jody’s hulking frame standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed, face like thunder.

“Who the hell are you and why are you half nikked in my house?”

“This isn’t your goddamned house Jody and you know that! Quit being an ass and tell me what you want this time,” she shouted, forgetting for a second that Bill was behind her still.

Walking over to Jody, Bill extended his hand, wiping it dry on his jeans first, “Name’s Bill, been helping Elsa out some”.

Eyeing the outstretched hand suspiciously, Jody said, “Best put your shirt on and get back to it then,” glaring at Elsa over Bill’s shoulder.

Turning back towards her, Bill raised his eyebrow and said quietly, “You alright?”

“Course she’s alright! I’m her goddamned brother!”

Elsa rolled her eyes, cast a warning look at her brother and replied, “I’ll be fine Bill, thanks. And thanks for keeping me company over lunch,” only realising she had her hand on his forearm when she saw his eyes flicker down and a slight smile play on his lips.

His lips… Damn her idiot little brother for ruining her… what? her chance with Bill? Was she kidding herself?


“Jesus Jody! What the hell do you… Who the hell do you think you are to come crashing in here without so much as a knock on the goddamned door?!”

Bill heard her yelling as he walked down the porch steps, grinning, thinking to himself, “Yeah, she will be fine, she’s a tough cookie that one.”

Copyright, 2015,

All rights reserved.