In my mind’s eye, I could see the ecstatic looks on the face of the pretty naked female as her lean, handsome, virile lover makes his erotic manoeuvre down her hot moist body. I could feel him kissing her throat and breasts; licking her belly button, slowly mouthing her body as his lust takes him further and further south to where my imagination is being led. Although the lover’s dark curly head disappears from the screen, the girl’s expressive face, her sighs and moans, tell me that he’s reached his target for tonight; mm, hot stuff on late night television and very informative too.
Things were not so when I was young, or if they were, I never knew about them. When I went to see our doctor just before I married Roger, he informed me of a certain procedure to ensure a more comfortable wedding night. It was most embarrassing. I just sat there having a man tell me what I should do with my fingers to stretch a membrane I didn’t know I had. Except for the name of a messy contraceptive gel, that was the only sex education either of us received; not exactly exciting stuff. Was that all there was to nuptial bliss?
Book Review/s to share: Blazing Embers is a must for all ages. My copy has been passed around and read so many times, by various age groups, that I’ve lost count. That’s the best compliment for any book. My copy looks very tired and worn now, but that means it’s given a lot of pleasure and made a lot of people smile. What better purpose for a good book!
Oh, come on, June, give me a chance to prove we’re a perfect team. You don’t need anyone else for sex. Believe me, it doesn’t come any better.’
She struggled to free herself. ‘Let me go at once! I’m going home. You’ve no right to stop me.’ He gripped her arms and captivated her with his smouldering eyes. ‘You’re nothing without me. I’ve made you as a designer, now let me show you what else I can do for you.’ He bent his head to kiss her again. She turned her face away. ‘No, Rob. Let me go!’ Still holding on to her arms, he pushed her a little way from him. A lecherous look crept over his face. His deep dimples became rugged clefts and his dark eyes glittered under their heavy brows. His smile twisted with lustful intent. When he spoke, his voice was deep and seductive. There was no mistaking the true meaning of his words: ‘We have business to finish first.’
Excited by his compelling sexuality but fearful of what he might do, her heart raced inside her breast. ‘I’ve had enough of your business for today.’ Her voice quivered uncontrollably. We haven’t done anything… yet!’
She was terrified by her inability to control the situation. ‘Let me go! Let me go!’
But he pulled her to the carpeted floor and pinned her down.
Come on, just relax, he said calmly, as though talking to an overwrought child.
Get off me! Get off!’
She pushed and thumped but knew she was powerless to move him. Under his weight, struggling was quite useless; she was just burning up energy. She waited for him to make a move so she could act: kick, scratch, knee him in the groin.
Okay, you win, he said suddenly, lifting himself up and turning away. She closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. But when she moved to get up she saw his belt unbuckled and his fly flapping open. He’d tricked her!
Quickly pinning her down again, he murmured softly, ‘Don’t struggle. Do you want me to hurt you?’
Rita stood over Paul, looking at him accusingly. “You’re a fool, Paul Stringer; can’t you see what’s happening? You’re living a lie. It’s become infectious and affecting your thinking. How can you minister to others when you need to be whole yourself?” He jumped out of his chair and walked away from her, putting up a hand as if to ward her off. “Don’t start again. I can’t argue with you. I am what I am.” Rubbish! You’ve given the Devil a foothold in your ministry.” Angela stirred and mumbled, “Don’t hurt me, Paul darling; I don’t want you to hurt me.” She moaned a little but was soon snoring again. Rita frowned and looked at him closely. “Is there something you’re not telling me, Paul? ” Paul groaned in frustration. He was about to explain when the doorbell rang, followed by an urgent pounding of someone’s fist on the door. He hurried to the hall and opened the door. Kevin Raymond burst in, cursing and swearing. Paul tried to hold him back but Kevin thumped him on the jaw, knocking him sideways. Fury flashing in his narrow beady eyes, the churchwarden held up a little gold cross hanging from a fragile chain. “I found this on the chancel steps. The last time I saw it was around Angela’s neck. I’ll bloody kill her!”
Book Review/s to share:
Smoothly, expertly written, the author captures the essence and conflict of human love and religion as they struggle to coexist in a judgmental world.Hobson is a writer of the first class, able to build a story quickly and maintain excitement throughout the book. Her characters are full and multidimensional-at times, the reader is torn by compassion and empathy for one and then the other. Such is the making of a fine novel and a book well worth reading. It is unfortunate that books such as these, so worthy of recognition, go unheralded by the literary establishment. I, for one, give it "tens" across the board.
Andrew F. O'Hara Award-winning author of The Swan, Tales of the Sacramento Valley
