“served no purpose, and had no effect, other than to lessen the status and human dignity of gays and lesbians in California, and to officially reclassify their relationship and families as inferior to those of opposite-sex couples.”

Well, duh.

Congratulations California.

Australia isn’t forgotten here. You can sign the petition for marriage equality here or you can petition the ex-priest with big ears and budgie smugglers to allow the opposition a conscience vote on the issue here

Go for it!

It’s only 4km return (that link lies) but it’s a volcanic plug that stands 485 metres. Most of the “walk” is a scramble up rocks, the odd bit of concrete step, 3 flights of metal stairs, and some extremely slippery shale. There’s a chain to hang on to for the worst bits, but it still breaks your balls.

They have a King of the Mountain Race every July. Participants start and finish in the township of Pomoma and so add on an extra 2 or 3 kms to the distance. The record is 22 minutes. 22 freaking minutes for a near vertical race. I am beyond impressed. It took us about 1 hour 45 minutes return.

Of course, then we came home and ate hash browns, fried eggs, mushrooms, tomatoes and a huge plate of tropical fruit, so any virtue in mountain climbing before breakfast is overruled.

And then I made Tomato Kasundi.

INGREDIENTS

50g fresh ginger, peeled
50g garlic cloves, peeled
2 green chillies, split and seeded
1 large onion, peeled and roughly chopped
1 tablespoon black mustard seeds
2 sprigs curry leaves
1 tablespoon turmeric
2 tablespoons ground cumin
1 tablespoon paprika or chilli powder (or a combination)
1 tablespoon dry mustard
½ cup vegetable oil
½ cup brown malt vinegar
1½ kg roma tomatoes wash and roughly chopped
1 cup sugar
1½ tablespoon salt
METHOD

Blend ginger, garlic, chillies and onion to a paste in a blender.

Heat a large pot and add half of the oil and mustard seeds and fry until they ‘pop’. Add curry leaves and stir as you add them as they will splutter. Add the remaining spices and garlic and chilli paste and cook another minute or until fragrant.

Add the remaining ingredients and bring to a boil. Reduce heat; simmer, stirring occasionally, for about 1 hour or until thick and ‘jammy’.

Spoon into sterilised jars with a layer of remaining oil on top. Cap and store — improves with age.

Now, if I could write something my day would be complete!

Crikey, I say (because I’m in Australia), look at those names between the covers. And how happy I am to be cuddled up next to Shanna for both my stories. Maybe some of her glam will rub off on me!

You can read more about “Girl Fever” over at editor Sacchi Green’s blog. Check out her introduction here.

Here’s the TOC for “Girl Fever”

Introduction Sacchi Green
Look At Me Now, Your Holiness! Cheyenne Blue
Answering the Call Shanna Germain
A Wet Pussy Rachel Kramer Bussel
An Hour Sommer Marsden
Good Morning Emily Moreton
She Writhes Beneath Me Roxy Jones
Oh Captain, My Captain Cha Cha White
At the Hip Anna Watson
Clean Sweep Fran Walker
Taste of My Woman Giselle Renarde
Off and On Allison Wonderland
Clothes Make the Woman D.L. King
Yab Yum Sacchi Green
Love Las Muertas Kirsty Logan
System Jeremy Edwards
Project Runway Sharon Wachsler
I Do Catherine Paulssen
Shane Jessica Lennox
Six Minutes or It’s Free Tigress Healy
In Hot Water Elizabeth Coldwell
Love On A Real Train Michael M. Jones
Second Time Around Sara Lynde
Routine Jessica Lennox
Defenseless Nat Burns
Coasting Anya Levin
Front Door Sex Zoe Egan
Ignition Switch Delilah Devlin
Dressing Down Heather Towne
Signature Jean Roberta
The Airplane Story Victoria Janssen
Backstage Nerves Heather Day
In the Bush Debra Anderson
What Next? MJ Williamz
The Virtues of Being Forward Veronica Wilde
Pierced Maxine Marsh
Final Exam DD Symms
Stiff Peaks Rose William
Birthday Dance M. Marie
Desperate Measures Geneva King
An Explanation Sharon Wachsler
Floating in Space Dena Hankins
Freeway Falling Cal Gimpelevich
The Flight Home Nicole Wolfe
Patience Jennifer Baker
Train Whore Gemma Parkes
In the Closet Emily Moreton
Born to Ride Piper Trace
The Real Thing Anna Watson
Femme’s the Breaks Allison Wonderland
In the Sculpture Garden Cha Cha White
When Life Is Interesting Leigh Wilder
Cowboy Dirty Roxy Jones
Saucy Cheeks Giselle Renarde
Last Minute Catherine Paulssen
Breathless Ariel Graham
Caramel Louise Blaydon
Cats and Dogs Fran Walker
Mina’s Train Ride J. Caladine
Season Finale Lea Meadows
Auto Correct Evan Mora
Lure Nikki Magennis
Little Miss Goody Two Shoes Lucy Felthouse
Submission Letter Tara Young
Stacked Reina Sobin
Snowbound Sacchi Green
Written on Stone Toby Rider
Here and Back Again Shanna Germain
I Wish I Knew You Cheyenne Blue
Heat Lightning Sommer Marsden

With This Ring, I Thee Bed

Personally, I have never felt the need or the urge for marriage. Like oysters, it’s something that other people enjoy. Marriage used to be cozy and vanilla and inextricably tied to the white picket fence and 2.2 snotty nosed children – and hey, I like my yards unfenced and children taste worse than oysters.

However, Alison Tyler’s new anthology, “With This Ring, I Thee Bed” is everything I do like about modern marriage: unconventional marriages of all sorts. Gay marriage. Poly marriage. And above all, smokin’ hot marriage.

So given my general unconcern about traditional marriage, it’s strange that my contribution to “With This Ring, I Thee Bed” does include a highly traditional young, squeaky clean heterosexual couple tying the knot. But my story isn’t really about them, it’s about the bride’s parents, Jonas and Penny, free-spirited hippies, living their own unconventional unmarried life and wondering in quiet bewilderment how they produced such a conventional daughter.

Even though Jonas and Penny never had a legal wedding, their love is enduring and true, solid as mahogany and yes, highly sexual.

I think that most people hope, when they marry, that their marriage will last, that they won’t become another divorce statistic. That they’ll be the snowy-haired couple rocking contentedly on the porch together. And that love and togetherness is something I do aspire to.

Here’s an excerpt from my story, “Mother of the Bride”.

As the younger people settled back in for another round of drinking and dancing, I slipped my hand into Jonas’. “Think we can leave now?”

He hummed in affirmation, and together we slipped out the door of the ballroom, down the long anonymous corridors of the hotel, up to our room on the third floor. The lights were off when we opened the door, but I’d left the drapes partially open. When I turned on the light, I saw the bouquet of flowers on the bed. Skye’s bridal bouquet. I picked it up, and turned it over in my hands. The only tradition she’d omitted was throwing her bouquet. Now I knew why.

Her note was simple and to the point. “Because I love you, and because you loved me enough to give me the wedding I wanted, not the one you wanted for me.”

Tears pricked at my eyes, and I handed the note to Jonas. “Obviously, we didn’t hide our feelings too well.”
“I doubt we could have kept them from her. She’s very astute.”

Carefully I set the bouquet on the bedside table and reached for my partner again.

His hands moved to the top button of my despised lilac and gray dress. Working swiftly, he slipped the buttons, pushing aside the cloth, moving it down my arms until I stood there in my simple cotton bra. Bending, he set his mouth to my nipple, warming it through the fabric. The dress pooled around my waist.
In a glissade of motion, we moved to the bed, dropping our clothes as we went. We’d moved like this a thousand times before. We knew each other so well. No need for a slow striptease that night, no need for the ritual undressing of each other. This time was all about us, and a celebration of our life together. And a celebration of Skye too; our daughter, made in love who today was leaving us for her own love and life.
We lay on the bed, facing each other. I stroked the long gray strands of his hair, reaching behind to release his ponytail, combing out his hair until it flowed free over his shoulders.

He growled at me, biting my nipple playfully. “I should let you be. Maybe I’ll go and have a drink at the bar. A fine bourbon… some good company…”

“You wouldn’t dare,” I said, and wound my fingers tightly into his hair, tugging as he tongued my breast.
I treasured these moments, lying together in bed. Whether it was the afterglow, or a slow buildup to intimacy — the warmth and the loving were the same. Even when we didn’t make love — when he couldn’t or I wasn’t interested — we still held each other, and stroked and played and cavorted like puppies, softly warm and playfully tender.

I haven’t received my contributor’s copies yet (a tiny woe of a peripatetic lifestyle) but I’m greatly looking forward to reading.

“With This Ring, I Thee Bed” edited by Alison Tyler and published by Spice is out now.

I love getting Sacchi’s calls for submissions – she comes up with such wicked themes: lesbian cowboys, lipstick on collars, or just simple lesbian lust. However, I admit that I found coming up with a story for “Lesbian Cops: Erotic Investigations” somewhat harder than usual.

It wasn’t that the theme didn’t appeal. It did. Greatly. But I found it a difficult story to start. I actually started three stories before I managed to complete one. I’d lie in bed at night and let wanna-be characters roam around my head. Some wandered through and out the other side, some simply never made it past a formless, nebulous woman with “lesbian cop” written on her forehead.

The first one who stuck long enough to make it to the keyboard was Lexie, who walked into the cop station and reported her car stolen — the very car Lexie herself had stolen from the cop’s girlfriend some months before. Lexie ground to a halt after 700 words, stuck in a mish-mash of rego plates with cute acronyms and a lack of motive.

Then there was Clodagh. Clodagh was a garda in Ireland in the 1970s at the height of the Troubles, the time of car bombs and kneecappings and mistrust. She was destined for an encounter with the wife of an IRA hunger striker, but after 900 words their story was becoming dark and sad, not hot and horny.

Next up was Suzanne. I rather liked Suzanne. She was a social worker who often accompanied our cop protagonist on the late night calls where children might need pulling out of domestic violence situations. Despite the rather dark overtones, Suzanne was bright and chirpy, a femme who was having trouble convincing her butch copper that yes, she liked girls, yes, she was tougher than she looked, and yes, how about it, NOW.

Finally, along came Eve and Kaye. Eve is a hippie who lives in a ramshackle shed along a dirt road in the hinterland of Queensland’s Sunshine Coast (strangely… the area where I’m living now). Kaye receives a tip that Eve’s growing dope on her block and goes to investigate. Eve and Kaye make it all the way to the sweaty conclusion. There are vegetables in this story, suntanned shoulders, raspberries, a dog called Jaffa, lovemaking on the grass in the sunshine, and a very sated lesbian cop.

I vacillated; torn between the desire to slap her down, find some pretext to wipe that smile from her face, and simply giving in. Simply walking over to her, pulling down that loose singlet top and nuzzling my face into her breasts. Finding out what her hair felt like freed from its thick plait, seeing how it would fall over her shoulders, how long it was when loose. I was a breath away from ignoring duty, the reason I was here, the possibility Eve was a criminal – albeit a very minor one.

Lexie, Clodagh, and Suzanne have gone back to the Unfinished folder (a huge folder, bulging with snippets and possibilities, some good, some terrible). Maybe they’ll come out to play at a later date, maybe not. In the meantime, I’m greatly looking forward to reading the other stories in this anthology.

Sacchi is kicking off a blog tour to promote the book; it starts in…. um… it started on April 1.

Here’s the schedule:
April 1 – April 1 JL Merrow

April 2 – Jove Belle

April 3 – Delilah Devlin

April 4 - R. G. Emanuelle

April 5 – Andrea Dale

April 6 - Kenzie Matthews

April 7- Ily Goyanes

April 8 – Cheyenne Blue (well, gosh, golly, crikey, that would be me!)

April 9 – Evan Mora

April 10 – J.N. Gallagher

April 11 – Liz Coldwell

April 12 – Teresa Noelle Roberts
om/

April 13 - Lynn Mixon

April 14 - RV Raiment

April 15 – Annabeth Leong

And if that list of writers isn’t enough to get on onboard, here’s the cover:

Either books ordered from my new favorite place to buy – The Book Depository (FREE worldwide delivery and books at UK prices. Did I say FREE worldwide delivery, ladies and gentlemen? That’s one huge saving, especially for me in Australia.) or it means contributor’s copies.

Some of my recent contributor’s copies include “Best Lesbian Romance 2011″* edited by Radclyffe which includes my story set in a Magdalene Laundry in Ireland.

We don’t talk, except in whispers, our heads under the covers. Often, we don’t talk at all, we simply align our bodies together and let our hands do the talking, gestures of reassurance, of caring, of love. I’ll spoon behind Maura, and my palms will smooth over her belly, smoothing away the pain from her womb, and the absence of its produce. I’ll soak in the warmth and comfort of another body, and let my hands convey all the love that I have. Or Maura will cradle my head on her breast and stroke my shoulders, my back, and whisper words of love into my hair.

Then there’s “Lesbian Lust: Erotic Stories”* edited by Sacchi Green. This includes my own “A Story About Sarah”. My tale is set in a mining camp in Western Australia. Told by Melly, a half-Aboriginal woman, it’s a paen to her lover Sarah.

It was a long time before we did anything but kiss. Months. Why seek more when what you have is so perfect? Sarah’s kisses are like the creek that flows down the red bluff after rain: at first it’s barely there, the merest hint of what’s to come, before it swells and falls into something so deep you could drown in it. Then it overflows, and unleashed it swirls into a fierce, raging passion.

*Yeah, I know. The links go to Amazon. But I’m a poor erotic writer struggling to make a crust and those tiny $$s from Amazon from the referral links add up. So shoot me.

My copies aren’t in my hot little hands yet, but I’m looking forward to reading. In the meantime, you can view the website and read interviews with many of the authors.

Mine is here

My girl crush? That’s no secret.

Amelie Mauresmo!

Guiltless Pleasure Publishing is actively seeking erotic writers for both Ebook and print publication. If erotic genre novels are your forte, check them out. They’re looking for strong, erotic genre novels of any sexual orientation. In addition, there are active forums on the site where you can get some tough-love concrit on a work in progress, join in the (definitely only for fun) Round Robin, or talk erotica or writing to your heart’s content. You’ll need to be registered on the site to view the forums, but that part’s painless.

Why Guiltless Publishing?

As a new kid on the erotica block, GPP encourages writers in many ways. There’s the forums, of course, and importantly, your submission is carefully considered, often by more than one editor. If you’re accepted, you’ll get a thorough (and I mean THOROUGH) one-on-one editing service, and a very decent advance plus royalties. No shonky vanity press here. If you’re rejected, you’ll get more than the usual “Sorry, not for us” two sentence rejection letter. You’ll get the specific reasons why your story was rejected, suggestions for improvement and possibly alternate markets that may work for you.

Their maiden Ebook, “Song of the Fallen: Book 1 -Counterpoint” by Rachel Haimowitz is due out next week, with the print version to follow in June. You can even read the first FOUR chapters online, so you’ll know before you buy that you’re going to enjoy it.

Check them out!

Cheyenne Blue: The Interview.

You can keep up with Penelope at here.