Everybody is constrained a bit by workaday routines, but the right amount of delay never fails to add relish to any quest – contrast is essential to any definition, going too fast always detracts from the final effect. So there was a happy, breathy anticipatory gap of a few days which honed the expected savour to perfection, the oven simmering at a low heat to prepare the exotic dish. All through it I was flooded with a rapturous cocktail of reminiscence and anticipation, starting with the exquisite euphoria of my first, unpremeditated, ‘off-balance’ one night stand – opening, long drawn-out kiss, tiptoes back to the flat, the body revelation, the love, the bath, the idyllic park walk, the farewell, the perfect memory, frozen expressions of affection – always there for replay in my mind in times of stress and depression, now with the extra bonus of all those breathy film and video scenes to spice it up further, every thought a metaphorical caress. Cameramen must have a good time; great to touch with the eyes; great to have the senses melt into each other.
I envisaged Darlene dressing before her mirror, adoring her own image, caressing her thighs as she drew up her stockings, loving her own image in the mirror, savouring her own fully charged magnetism – delicious dressing in preparation for delicious undressing – perhaps some feeling in her bones that I might be someone out of the ordinary, or even an additional bonus of doing it with another woman before me eyes. I, in my turn, practiced disrobing in front of my mirror, in subdued light, capturing all the alluring angles, savouring myself under the dream spell of her implicit eyes. I senses the bleeps of telepathy in operation between us – laser-beamed gazes and breaths of rapture.
I spiced my sensations with my favourite videos. Katy Perry’s Thinking of You and Teenage Dream came to the fore, those graceful balletics of revelation, pulling on the stockings, pulling off the jeans, my hands all over that lithe, tanned form. I washed, ironed, immersed myself into putting on and taking off all the items in my wardrobe. I even had some ‘limbering up’ chats on the phone – some alluring voices there, all the more magical for their anonymity and their covert location. Those ‘blind’ rehearsals sharpened the visual and tactile imagination. Some aspects suit complete darkness, others suit subdued light. Maybe at some point there would be a home video, capturing idyllic trysts indoors and outdoors, two lovers willing themselves into dream perfection . . . great art is often a substitute or reminder for experience; how much more fulfilling when it is an accompaniment or a backdrop.
“Our male protagonist has an issue separating fantasy from reality. Throw in a therapist and a fitness trainer, and we have all the hot makings of a sensual read. After reading a few of Russell’s short stories, I see that he has an eye for romance and subtle details. His character lives in the moment, and each movement is filed with emotion and meaning. This builds quite the anticipation for lovemaking. And speaking of lovemaking, David has a soft hand for these types of scenes, preferring to keep the erotic details hidden. I find it refreshing and alluring.”(Zee)
Giveaway: 1 pdf copy of Self’s Blosssom
A romantic, erotic tale of a vivid portrayal of the quest for the inner truth, empowerment and sexual liberation of Selene, a woman searching for primeval abandon and reckless adventure.
Intelligent, a university graduate and a successful careerist, Selene became emotionally scarred by unhappy relationships. Riled and taunted through the years by her former college roommate Janice, Selene gave in to the long-term desire to ‘get one back’ at Janice by having a passionate holiday encounter. Immediately drawn to the sea and enthralled by its brutal yet sensual waves, Selene seduces a young stranger on a deserted beach. Once she comes to meets the mature and powerful Hudson, Selene finally begins to claim her sensual destiny. Through a slow process, accentuated by Selene’s shyness, introspection and circumspection, she embarks on a long and elaborate interplay of leading on and rejection. The volcanic passion builds until there is a blazing row. A possible drowning, the final ritual undressing at long last, leads to the ultimate flowering of the woman Selene was meant to be.