Mikala's Missives

A modest manifest of missives to keep readers up to date on works in progress, coming soon releases and where to get my books as well as some free stories when I get time to post them.

Tuesday, May 28, 2013

Coming soon at Changeling Press: A Fine Line by Mikala Ash


When a passion becomes a career, is it possible to draw the line between work and play?



A Fine Line by Mikala Ash

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=2055




For me, the line between pleasure and pain is very, very blurred. As a natural $bottom$, to use the jargon for submissive, I’ve made the bondage and submission scene my life. I’m also a $switch$, someone who can play the roles of master and slave with equal gusto. I’ve made a career out of it. I have my own dungeon in the basement, and a long list of satisfied clients.

To say I have a high tolerance for pain is an understatement. I’ve become addicted to it. In fact I can’t orgasm without it.

One night, in search of the ultimate orgasm, I found myself at a new BDSM joint, Club Sensuelle, and I got more than I bargained for. For a start, there was a masked barman with a butt plug stuffed where the sun don’t shine who had a penchant for flogging helpless females…





Excerpt



The leather jacketed hulk sitting at the door of Club Sensuelle gave me the once over with a pair of beady black eyes. “Name?”

“Sally S.”

He ran his porcine gaze down the clipboard he held in his meaty fingers. I’d called the BDSM club earlier that afternoon to reserve a place. When he found my name his eyes flicked back up. “First time?” It was more of an accusation than a question.

I offered a smile and an agreeable bob of the head to confirm that yes, indeed, it was my first time. When not entertaining at home (I have a fully equipped dungeon in the basement) I usually went to Club C, a honey pot for vampires and werewolves. Though not paranormal, I perversely enjoyed their take on power and dominance. Since it had burned down in a gas explosion a while back, I’d decided to try this place.

“I.D.?”

I flashed my card. He took it from me to compare the details with the ones I’d already provided.

“Read the rules?”

I nodded again. “On your website.”

He picked up a form and a pen. “Read ‘em again. Sign and date at the bottom.”

It was the standard waiver, absolving the club of any responsibility for death or injury. A lot of BDSM joints had something similar. Amongst the detail was the club’s official $safe word$ and $safe sign$ so that an activity can be stopped at the submissive’s discretion. Though I’ve never had the occasion to use one, safe words are the only protection we had against something going accidently wrong.

I signed with trembling fingers. I’m always like this when going to a new place. I was filled to the brim with nervous anticipation. My first night at Club C had been the same; hot adrenalin coursing through my veins, pussy wet as wet can be, and my nipples denting my blouse.

It was the good kind of stress, creating an elevated state of arousal. I think of it as a type of positive fear, my type of fear. I lived for it in the same way base jumpers crave the ascent and fall; forever pushing the limits of courage.

The doorman checked that I’d signed in the right place and handed me a pink chip. It was a triskelion and on the reverse face it had $SD13$ stamped on it. I guess it signified I was the thirteenth submissive seeking discipline to walk in tonight. A good omen? I hoped so.

I’m naturally a $bottom$ , a submissive, but do enjoy being a $top$, especially for my clients who want to be punished. They’re the customer, and the customer is always right, which means I must obey their every whim, which brings me back to being a $bottom$ again. A neat rationalization, I like to think.

“Hand this in at the bar as soon as you get inside.” He gave me the once over again. I was wearing my cutest little black skirt. It went mid-thigh and my tight white blouse with three buttons undone allowed my pert and unfettered breasts to occasionally pop into view. “You’ll be beating them off with a stick,” he mumbled and waved me through.

“I won’t be the one doing the beating,” I replied hopefully.





http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=2055



Enjoy !

Cheers from Down Under

Mikala Ash

Out now: Dire’s Strait

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=2022

Out Now: The Girl in the Cartwheel Hat

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=2005

Out now: Protect and Serve: Sweet Delight

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1992

Monday, February 25, 2013

Coming soon from Changeling Press: The Girl in the Cartwheel Hat

Garth thought it was a titillating question, something to keep the juices flowing while having sex.


With this girl, perhaps it was a question he didn’t want answered.


http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=2005


‘The Girl in the Cartwheel Hat’ by Mikala Ash.


Book summary:


In a pub, a hunky college guy gets the eye from a beautiful girl. Beneath the ethereally glowing ivory skin and behind the captivating eyes there was a dark and deadly secret. He buys her a drink and one thing leads to another. She takes him home. It's a common enough occurrence. But who is the girl in the cartwheel hat, really? What's her story? For Garth, this one-night stand could be his last.


Excerpt:

“Tell me about your first time.”

I opened my eyes and gazed at tonight’s Adonis.

Garth, a literature major from the local college, peered up at me from between my thighs; his gorgeous lips glistening.

“What did you say?” I asked icily. I was a tad peeved that his agile tongue was uttering inane demands when it should have been licking my aching clit. I was particularly aggrieved because Garth’s tongue was very, very good at his self appointed duty.

Pale blue-gray eyes contrasted with the sun kissed ruddiness of his tanned face. I suspected he was a surfer; he had the lively vitality I’ve always associated with Californians. I’m a sucker for a good tan and blonde hair, and Garth was blessed with both.

I’d picked him up at a downtown pub. He was playing pool with some other college lads. I’d watched him for a few minutes. He was well built and carried himself with an easy grace. It was a simple thing to catch his eye with a coquettish smile. He hurriedly lost his game which, up until that moment, he’d been winning easily. Obviously he was a young man who knew his priorities. After he’d bid goodbye to his friends he boldly approached and asked if I was in need of a drink.

Little did he know how thirsty I truly was. He bought me an iced tea, and how he’d raised his sandy eyebrow at that surprising request. The traditional icebreakers ensued. He was casual, articulate, and oh so young without being boorish which many of this generation could be. Things swiftly developed from then. After a move to a shadowy corner, a deep kiss and a subtle fumble, I made the easy decision to bring him home.

He was impressed with my little red sports car and up market apartment, though he wasn’t so crass to draw attention to them as so many men his age would have done. That impressed me. He was itching to get into my pants but he played it cool. No immediate gratification for this one.

“Tell me about your first fuck.”

His question brought me back to the present moment with a jolt. “Why should I do that?”

“It turns me on.”

Kinky!



copyright 2013 Changeling Press, LLC

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=2005





Cheers from Down Under

Mikala Ash


Out now: Protect and Serve: Sweet Delight

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1992

Out now: Protect and Serve: Realm of Night

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1925

Out now: Protect and Serve: Endless Night

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1865

Wednesday, January 30, 2013

Naughty excerpt: Protect and Serve ‘Sweet Delight’ by Mikala Ash

The third of my Protect and Serve trilogy; Sweet Delight, again follows the sexy exploits of shifter cops Ciara Callaghan and Michael Munroe, the enigmatic Mal and the very sexy Tommy as they battle a murderous demon hell-bent on killing shifters.


http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1992



Although this story can be read as a standalone, the characters were first introduced in Endless Night, visiting again in Realm of Night. They are understood best when read sequentially.

Book summary:

Love is the greatest shape shifter of all.

Love can be humanity's greatest strength -- or our biggest weakness.

The poet William Blake knew this, and for the longest time I felt as though I'd been born into his Endless Night, my life destined for eternal misery. Tragedy stalked me with the persistence of an insatiable tiger: the death of my mother, my mistaken belief I had caused the death of my partner, Detective Mal Blake, the betrayal by Anton, my lover of three years, and his subsequent death at the hands of a demon of the worst sort.

But then, out of nowhere, Mal returned to me, and with him came Tommy, a divinely beautiful shifter. For almost half a year we've been inseparable, a threesome in every meaning of the word.

My name is Ciara Callaghan. I'm a cop, and I thought I'd seen love from both sides, seen both the best and the worst it can do.

I was wrong.

The worst is yet to come.



Naughty excerpt:



Earlier that fateful evening, Tommy, Mal and I had been locked in a torrid tangle of sweaty arms, legs, cocks and tits. With his back to Mal, Tommy had squirmed on Mal’s thick cock which was firmly stuffed in his asshole. I sat facing Tommy with my breasts squashed against his chest and my thighs spread wide. His gorgeous shaft was balls deep in my throbbing pussy. The three of us were trading impassioned kisses as we fucked in perfect synchrony.

Over the last few months we’d tried every variation two boys and a girl can get themselves in: me straddling Mal with Tommy in my ass, me straddling Tommy with Mal in my ass, Mal fucking Tommy while he tongued my clit, Tommy and I kissing around Mal’s shaft while he fingered our respective ass and pussy.

Each and every time my two lovers took me to the pinnacle of sexual pleasure, to heights of sensation I’ve never been to before, never even guessed possible. This time was no different. With Tommy’s tongue swirling deep in my mouth, I bounced and gyrated around his cock. He was moaning in ecstasy. I know how Mal’s cock felt when it was in my ass, so it was no surprise Tommy was on the edge of orgasm.

We’d been fucking together for so long now we knew each other’s responses well enough that we were able to time our orgasms to the beat, ensuring we all climaxed within moments of each other.

The tense butterfly sensations in my belly that heralded my own orgasm were building, sending waves of desire through every cell. Tommy’s tongue became more urgent, a sign he was well on the way, and the muscles of Mal’s arms that wrapped around both of us were visibly straining.

Mal, as had become his recent habit, was slightly detached, and more practical than passionate in his lovemaking. Though his breathing was quickening, he was not involved heart and soul as he used to be. Regardless of that, he always ensured Tommy and I would climax.

“Bring him off, Ciara. Fuck him.”

Mal’s deep resonating voice was enough to set me on that path with doubled intensity, and I murmured my intention to do as he suggested. Tommy groaned back, and before I could respond, my mind exploded in the mother of all climaxes. The three of us blew at once, moaning and gasping so loud I was afraid we’d disturb the neighbors.

We collapsed onto the bed in exhaustion, and lay there for ages, gently caressing each other while our bodies climbed down from the Everest of pleasure we’d just scaled. It was the last time I felt calm and safe, at peace with myself and the world. Why shouldn’t I have been? I was in love.

We spoke languidly, our voices no more than hushed whispers. I try so hard to remember what we said during those precious moments, what loving endearments we swapped. Because a few short hours later nothing was ever going to be the same again.





Enjoy!

Cheers from Down Under

Mikala Ash

Out now: Protect and Serve: Sweet Delight

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1992

Out now: Protect and Serve: Realm of Night

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1925

Out now: Protect and Serve: Endless Night

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1865





Sunday, January 27, 2013

'Id' by Mikala Ash


My latest contribution to theChangeling Press Flash Fiction Challenge:


Flash Fiction Challenge: “Id” by Mikala Ash


Id


“Well, Officer, it was like this…”


My voice petered out. How to explain being attacked by a creature from the Id? My Id, to be precise.

“Spare me the crap!”

Fuck it! “Then I deny everything.”

“So, you deny being found in the park, with your duds on the ground, and with your poor excuse of a dick waving in the breeze, writhing about moaning and groaning…”

“I deny it. I want a lawyer.”

The cop shook his head, clicking his tongue like a disappointed parent. He leaned towards the cell door and spoke confidentially. “You know it has gone viral, don’t you?”

“What?”

“The video of your little display. Already two and a half million hits, and it’s only been up for two hours.”

“Fuck!”

“Senator. Can I quote you on that?” said a voice from the shadows. It belonged to a prick of a demon journalist.

“Double fuck!”

    Id II
“Senator Graham?”


An absolute stunner stood on the other side of the bars. The dark business suit didn’t disguise her voluptuous figure, or the fact that she wore a shoulder holster. Her long dark hair was pulled back into a pony tail, and I imagined pulling on that glossy mane while… “You’re not my lawyer.”

She flashed a badge. “Agent Neith, PDD.”

“You took your time.”

“We have a few things on our plate at the moment, sir. I need your cooperation.”

I gazed at her ruby lips thinking I’d do anything she asked for a single kiss.

“Cancel your lawyer.”

“I can do that.” She had the most captivating eyes, obsidian with bright flecks of jade. “I have a few problems; a damn video and the damn press.”

“Consider them fixed, though first my associate has a few questions.”

From out of the shadows stepped a vampire.

Triple fuck!



Id III
Can anyone serve two masters?

The ethical conflict between being an investigative journalist and cooperating with the Paranormal Defense Department enveloped me, reminding me of the cloying stench of road kill.

I dove into the pool to wash off away the hypocrisy.

According to Agent Neith, the Senator was the innocent victim of a creature from his Id, and letting him off the hook had deprived my newspaper of the scoop of the century. I felt genuinely bad about that.

I closed my eyes and floated on the surface.

Familiar hands grasped my ankles, and pulled me backwards through the water. My lover spread my legs, and with urgent fingers ripped aside my bikini, exposing my pussy to the determined assault of a plundering cock.

I opened my eyes. Though the body was undeniably male, the face gazing back at me was mine.

“Hi,” I murmured.

“Hi,” I murmured back.



©2012 Mikala Ash



150 words … yay!



Cheers from Down Under

Mikala Ash

Out now: Protect and Serve: Sweet Delight

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1992

Out now: Protect and Serve: Realm of Night

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1925

Out now: Protect and Serve: Endless Night

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1865

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

Coming soon: Protect and Serve ‘Sweet Delight’ by Mikala Ash

Coming soon: Protect and Serve ‘Sweet Delight’ by Mikala Ash



Book summary:


Love is the greatest shape shifter of all.

Love can be humanity's greatest strength -- or our biggest weakness.

The poet William Blake knew this, and for the longest time I felt as though I'd been born into his Endless Night, my life destined for eternal misery. Tragedy stalked me with the persistence of an insatiable tiger: the death of my mother, my mistaken belief I had caused the death of my partner, Detective Mal Blake, the betrayal by Anton, my lover of three years, and his subsequent death at the hands of a demon of the worst sort.

But then, out of nowhere, Mal returned to me, and with him came Tommy, a divinely beautiful shifter. For almost half a year we've been inseparable, a threesome in every meaning of the word.

My name is Ciara Callaghan. I'm a cop, and I thought I'd seen love from both sides, seen both the best and the worst it can do.

I was wrong.

The worst is yet to come.


Although this story can be read as a standalone, the characters were first introduced in Endless Night, visiting again in Realm of Night. They are understood best when read sequentially.


http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1992



Excerpt:

I used to love poetry, now I don't trust poets as far as I can spit.

They tantalize us with seemingly profound thoughts and evocative images, beguiling us, fooling us into believing they know something about the human condition. Now I think they are as ignorant and scared as the rest of us, arranging their pretty words not to reveal the secrets of life, but to quell their own deep disquiet.

I wondered, as I gazed at Tommy's lacerated chest, what would the poets make of that? My eyes lingered on his erect cock with barely controlled lust. He was beautiful, not just physically, but spiritually as well. He was an honorable man, brave, thoughtful and wise in a nerdy way. I was so lucky to have him in my life. That he lay there so close to death broke my heart.

I guess the poets have expended many words on the subject of broken hearts, but to me, at that moment they were just empty platitudes.

Since I was a little girl my favorite poet has been William Blake, mainly because of his references to animals, "Tyger Tyger" and all that. Not a surprising choice for a shifter, and his words had seduced me with their hints of dark and mysterious knowledge. He was deeply spiritual, and the religious underpinnings of his writing escape me, but I sometimes wondered if he was a shifter himself. He seemed to have an affinity with wild creatures, and for most of my life I believed he knew our souls.

For the longest time I'd felt as though I'd been born into his Endless Night; my life destined for eternal misery. Tragedy stalked me with the persistence of an implacable tiger: the violent death of my mother, my mistaken belief I had caused Mal's death, the betrayal by Anton, my lover of three years, and his subsequent death at the hands of a demon of the worst sort. But then, out of nowhere, Mal had returned to me, and with him came Tommy, this divinely beautiful shifter.

I dragged my eyes away from his beautiful but tortured body, and tried to think more positive thoughts.

Never in my life had I known such happiness. That I could attract the love of two exceptional men had not been in my stars; not by a long shot. Sure, we'd been busy killing demons along the width and breadth of the entire country, but we always found time for passion, and we often joked we were "fucking like demons." It kept us sane. I thought my life had turned around, and I'd been blessed with the poet's blessed state of Sweet Delight.

Then, slowly at first, things began to change. Mal became distant, quiet and secretive, so that sometimes it felt like just me and Tommy, though there were three of us in the bed. His participation in our lovemaking lacked enthusiasm. Sure, his cock was hard when I sucked him, and when I climbed on top he went through the motions, but no longer with the passion I'd craved for the three years he'd been gone. It was as if he was somewhere else, thinking thoughts that Tommy and I could not share.

That widening gulf between us hurt like a claw raking through my breast.

Mal had been more and more distant in the fortnight before we'd tracked down Sheldon Hicks. Since the battle in the warehouse, I'd hardly seen Mal. He was out hunting demons, and no, I couldn't go with him. Someone had to stay and watch Tommy.

I gazed at Tommy's torn flesh. He'd been ripped open from neck to crotch. There'd been so much blood. The sound of my own screams, begging Mal to help him, still echoed in my dreams.

After Mal had dispatched the demon, he'd seen us, and with effortless strength, he'd scooped us up into his arms and carried us to our car. He'd driven us to Doctor Fraser, the so-called "shifter healer" who'd originally saved Tommy years ago when Mal, then a humble detective, had found him lying by the side of the road.

Doctor Fraser had patched him up this time as well, and after a week where Tommy's life had hung in the balance, he'd let us bring him home.

That was three weeks ago.

Watching him made me think of how scared I was he would die, how alone I would be if he left me. Each moment was so precious. It mirrored the abject despair I'd experienced when I'd thought Mal was dead.

I thought about all the time we'd been together... a short six months... so many moments joined together. Like knots tied in a piece of string, one thought led to another, and inevitably turned to memories of my mother. She'd been a tortured soul, and we were always on the run from something. I was born in Louisiana, spent my infant days on a tuna boat in the Pacific, happily raised in Australia, and then returned to the United States when I was ten after Mother's brutal murder. Apparently one of her adventures on the wrong side of the law had gone seriously wrong.

Now Mal was distant, and Tommy was so badly injured, I wanted this all to be over. I wanted to be happy again, like I'd been on the golden Australian beaches...



Cheers from Down Under

Mikala Ash



Coming soon from Changeling Press: Sweet Delight

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1992


Out now: Protect and Serve: Realm of Night

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1925


Out now: Protect and Serve: Endless Night

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1865

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Rauni's Mistress by Mikala Ash


It’s shaping up for a hot summer down here and a thunderstorm this evening made me think of my story about rain catchers; “Rauni’s Mistress”.


Rauni’s Mistress can be found at:

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=581



The story:

In 2147 the world is devastated by global warming. Pollution has poisoned the earth, the seas and the air. Fresh, clean water is as precious as gold.

Tasmania is the center of the southern hemisphere's fresh water distribution industry and in the squalid red light district of Hobart Town, Roxy Talia earns her living as a porn star to make ends meet, but yearns to attend university.

Tobin Kane is an out of work captain of the Rauni, an independent rain catcher. He follows the monsoon rains across the ocean, collecting the precious fresh water before it falls into the polluted seas. He and his crew have been blackballed within the industry, but Tobin is determined to find a way to keep his ship.

Keeping his beloved Rauni involves Roxy. The sexy vixen holds the key to saving his future and has been the star of his lusty fantasies for years.

Tobin will do whatever it takes to realize his goal -- even if he has to kidnap Roxy to do it…

Five Angels from Jean from Fallen Angel Romance Reviews

"The characters of Talon and Roxy are complex and engage the reader's interest; they have brains, too."

Four Hearts from Dee Daily from The Romance Studio

"This is a great story of good people doing what ever they have to in a world full of greed and corruption."



Excerpt:


With wide eyes and a madly beating heart, Roxy Talia watched the tall, good- looking stranger enter the crowded hotel bar.

He was absolutely perfect.

His crisp uniform proclaimed him to be an officer, non-military, a merchant mariner of some sort. Standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the street lights, he presented an imposing figure, broad shoulders, trim waist, nicely shaped legs. Once he'd removed his face mask, he'd scanned the dimly lit bar room with barely disguised distaste. His chiseled features wore a sad, resigned expression.

When his dark, intense eyes settled on her where she sat at the bar and the spare stool beside her, Roxy's heart fluttered. Her nipples had hardened the instant his eyes met hers. That warm feeling in her belly she'd thought she'd never feel again washed through her like a spring tide.

He fit her needs exactly, but what was it about him? Her response was as bewildering as it was desired. She'd often thought these last few years that she'd become anesthetized to good-looking men. After all, she had her pick yet here he was, the man she had assumed didn't exist, shattering her jaded expectations.

He strode toward Roxy, fixing her with an unwavering gaze.

Roxy gasped, and her sudden intake of breath surprised her. She was actually nervous at the approach of this man. She took a deep breath to calm herself and tamped down the fear that her disguise was not good enough.

That afternoon, Roxy had taken considerable steps to prepare her deception. She'd dressed in a conservative business suit with a white blouse and knee-length gray skirt. She'd chosen platform stilettos to give her height, a tight bandeau to minimize her bust and a platinum wig to disguise her natural jet hair. For her face, she'd applied ivory foundation and powder to hide her golden skin, blue lipstick to alter the line of her lips and a fake mole on her right cheek. To hide her trademark green eyes, she'd inserted blue contacts and added azure eyeliner and turquoise shadow to alter their shape.

The hodgepodge of styles, business and tart, created a jarring amalgam of looks that would confuse any observer. At least that was what she'd intended. She believed herself to be unrecognizable and the three drunks who had tried to pick her up so far tonight hadn't seen her for who she truly was.

This man, however, was sober. It would be the test of her preparation and acting skills to fool him. He towered above her, his face impassive, his attitude commanding. "This seat taken?"

His voice was like honey. It flowed into her ear like sweet syrup, warming her all the way down to her fluttering belly.

"No," she said. The voice she'd decided on was deeper than her own, husky with a faint European accent to hide the Australasian nasal twang. She'd been practicing all afternoon, intending it to lead any listener to think she was just another environmental refugee trying to fit into Hobart Town and not quite succeeding.

The officer sat down. There hadn't been even a flicker of recognition. If anything, he displayed total indifference.

Roxy relaxed. Surreptitiously she gazed at the stranger in the bar's mirror. In between the bottles of imported and domestic Aqua and Hydra water and the ubiquitous range of Gills Beer, she considered his heavily defined features, trying to get a handle on his personality, as if facial lines told you anything about the inner workings of the mind.

His ebony skin, wearing the sheen of perspiration which was unavoidable in Hobart Town's enervating humidity, glowed in the bar's dim lighting. His short, black hair was closely cropped, exposing a nicely shaped skull. His face was heavily textured and seemed to attract the shadows.

"I'm Tobin," he said and she jumped in surprise.

He was staring back at her reflection. "I'm Su Sha Xie," she said, quickly adopting the name of her worst enemy in kindergarten, a petulant little girl who once had stolen her crayons.

His dark eyes narrowed. "Funny, you don't look Chinese."

"It's a long story."

Tobin signaled to the barman. "I'm not into long stories today. Want another?"

"Why not?"

He fished out his card, scowled and flicked it to the barman. "Wanna sit?"

She followed his gaze to a newly vacated table in the corner. "I thought we were."

"Something more comfortable."

"I'm not a hooker," she said.

"I didn't think you were." He stood up and waited, looking down at her. "Coming?"

Tobin's self-confidence was staggering. Then she figured out what it really was. He didn't care if she came with him or not. She was just a woman to him, one of thousands out on this hot Hobart night. Roxy quelled her momentary annoyance by reminding herself that this was exactly why she was here in disguise. She wanted, for once, to be just an ordinary woman.

"Sure."

The barman returned with two beers. Tobin took his card, picked up the bottles and, weaving through a group of drunken marines, strode over to the table.

Roxy followed. The view of his physique from behind was as impressive as from the front. His broad shoulders gave way to bulging biceps which were barely contained by the short sleeves of his shirt. He sported a trim waist, slim hips and oh so tight buns atop sturdy but shapely legs. The musculature of which screamed both stamina and strength.

Roxy approved. Unlike the men she knew, Tobin's body lacked the artificial contours gained in the gym. He was used to real work, and hard work at that.

Tobin sat down without waiting for her. "I meant it. I'm not a hooker."

"I believe you." He took a swig of his beer, his eyes fixed on hers. "I'm not looking for a hooker."

"What are you looking for?"

He took a swig of beer and motioned to the chair.

She sat.

"So, keeping it short, what's your story?" she asked finally, putting an amused tone in her voice.

He looked into his beer. "No potted histories, please. Let me tell you who you are and then I'll tell you who I am."

Her heart stopped. Damn it, he'd recognized her after all. She'd hoped she could have at least one encounter with someone who didn't know who she was. Her anticipation of the night she'd planned collapsed and the despair in the bottom of her chest stirred.

"We are two of a kind," he said slowly. "You tell me you're not a hooker, I say I believe you. Then you tell me again to make sure. You are balancing on stiletto heels to make you appear taller than you really are. You are wearing an appalling wig and, geeze, to apply all that makeup you must have used a bricklayer's trowel. So, I'm assuming you don't want to be recognized."

His eyes trapped her in an inescapable gaze and she felt like she was falling into their dark depths. Within her chest her heart thudded like a prisoner beating against prison bars and in her ears, her blood roared. She could barely breathe waiting for him to say her name and shatter her desire. She so much wanted this stranger not to recognize her.

"You don't want to be recognized," he repeated. "Well, that's fine by me. I don't want to know who you really are, and I'll believe whatever you tell me."

Confusion roiled inside her mind. What game was he playing? Did he recognize her or not?

Roxy cleared her throat. "You said we are two of a kind."

"Well, you see, Su, I don't want to be me tonight either. So the reason I'm here, in this bar in this dodgy hotel in this stinking rotten town, is to be anyone but me, okay? Like you, I want to be someone else, if just for the night."


copyright 2012 Changeling Press, LLC






Cheers from Down Under

Mikala Ash

Out now: Protect and Serve: Realm of Night

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1925

Out now: Protect and Serve: Endless Night

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1865



Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Dire's Strait ... draft blurb


The Changeling Press Flash Fiction challenge inspired this novel idea ...

Dire’s Strait

By

Mikala Ash



One has to be careful when in love with a cannibal.

One must time liaisons with care.

Meeting after a meal is recommended, never before - unless one can bring along an alternative, such as evil paranormal creatures which, for the sake of civil society, must be eliminated.

Agent Dire of the Paranormal Defense Department is in such a predicament and his relationship with Max Detroit, a Frenchman with an appetite, is problematic at best.

For to Max, fine dining and love are two sides of the same coin, the distinction between them often hard to judge, much like good and evil.

©2012 Mikala Ash


The Chnageling Press Flash Fiction challenge ( and other great stuff) can be found at:




Over at the fantastic Changeling Press yahoo group my contribution to the latest Flash Fiction challenge was a 6 part story (each part 150 words max) titled “Peasant Take-out”.

http://groups.yahoo.com/group/ChangelingPress/



Flash Fiction: ‘Peasant take-out’ by Mikala Ash

It was my first gig. Maddy at the agency said my elfin features were perfect. She dressed me as a peasant girl and made me practice the poem:

“You gotta get out of this place, right now, but not on an empty stomach.”

The words didn’t rhyme, or fit the music, but hell, I had debts. I found the address (Maddy writes like a doctor) and the sexiest guy on the planet opened the door.

Hitting the music I gyrated seductively and sang. His startled expression turned pensive. Suddenly his strong hands grasped my naked shoulder and dragged me inside.

“I’m Agent Dire, Paranormal Defense Department. You’re at the wrong address. You were meant to be a snack for the ogre next door.”

He explained the reason for his stakeout. His cover was blown, but he had a plan. Would I help?

I gazed into his sexy eyes. “Hell yes!”



Flash Fiction: Peasant take-out II: ‘The Plan’

“Sheesh,” I said twenty minutes later, after a fast fuck on the floor. How else can you thank the guy who just saved your life? “Not only had I been delivering a coded message, I was lunch to go as well!”

Agent Dire kissed my swollen clit. “You are very tasty, you know.”

I playfully slapped his shoulder. “Who in their right mind would send a coded message by stripper gram?”

“Bad guys,” he said into my pussy lips. “With a sick sense of humor.”

“So, what’s the plan?”

“You won’t like it.”

“Fill me in.”

He did, and later, after another furious fuck, he told me the plan.

“No way,” I protested. “That’s a real ogre next door.”

“As far as he knows he’s still safe. He won’t suspect you.”

“And you want me to give him a message from you?”

“Yep.”

“What if he gets hungry?”

“That’s the plan.”



Flash Fiction: Peasant take-out III: ‘The Ogre’


Agent Dire sent me off with a “good luck” kiss. I wanted more, like a “good luck” fuck, but I consoled myself with the fact that he’s a great kisser and his promise of a “job well done” fuck in an hour’s time.

I pushed the doorbell and waited; my heart in my mouth and a peculiar gnawing sensation in my belly. I guess that was fear and not the aftereffect of what Agent Dire had been doing with his agile fingers, substantial cock and delightfully inventive tongue.

The door swung open.

Oh. My. Goodness.

On an ‘Impossibly sexy’ scale of one to ten this guy was a fifteen!

Ogres were supposed to be hideously ugly, which this guy wasn’t. Could Agent Dire be mistaken?

Lovely eyes the color of a Tahitian lagoon caressed me for a long cool moment.

“Yes, ma petite chérie?”

OMG, and he was French!



Flash Fiction: Peasant take-out IV: ‘The message… what message?’

I stood there wide eyed, my mouth open like a fly catcher, and my nipples barely restrained by the décolletage of my saucy costume.

“Is there something you wish, ma petite?” His accent strummed my erogenous zones like a long time lover.

“Ummmmmm,” was the best I could manage.

His turquoise eyes drew me in, heart and soul. Were ogres magical? Because I was certain he’d put me under a spell.

“Are you unwell, ma cherie?”

“Ummmmmmm.”

Yep. He had me under a spell alright. What kind of ogre was he? Not one from any nursery rhyme I recall.

Agent Dire had him all wrong.

This Adonis couldn’t be a heartless monster preying on humans, gobbling us up and using our bones as toothpicks.

No. This was no ogre.

“Entrez s'il-vous-plaît,” he whispered seductively.

Agent Dire had been adamant. “Sing the message and get the hell out!”

I went in.



Flash Fiction: Peasant take-out V: ‘The Main Course.’


“You’re very beautiful,” the so called Ogre said.

“Thank you. I…”

“It’s a mistake for you to be here.”

“Don’t tell me this is the wrong address too!”

“Too?”

His oh so kissable lips creased into a smile.

“I mean…” I pointed to the long toe nailed foot protruding from behind the sofa. “What’s that?”

“Someone you definitely did not want to meet.” He flicked the lace edging my décolletage. “Especially dressed like that.”

I looked behind the sofa. There was a dead ogre on the floor.

“The message, s'il-vous-plaît.”

“I think it was meant for him.”

“Ah, then you have arrived too late.” He caressed my cheek. “I would very much like to make love to you, ma cherie, but alas…”

“Alas?”

“Not on a full stomach.”

It was then that I noticed that part of the ogre’s left thigh was missing.

It had been eaten.



Flash Fiction: Peasant take-out VI: ‘Dire’s Strait’ by Mikala Ash


Agent Dire’s plan suddenly made sense.

He hadn’t meant the Ogre being hungry… he’d meant … “I was mistaken. The message is for you after all.”

“Please, ma cherie.”

I didn’t bother with the music, it didn’t fit the words anyway, and I didn’t sing it - my mouth was too dry.

“A debt of honor repaid,” I began, hardly above a whisper, “Need not end a liaison … Or cause a heart to fade.”

A smile creased his perfect lips while those beguiling eyes caressed my soul. With his fingers under my chin he lifted my face and kissed me.

Warm lips carried me into a whirlpool of desire. Eventually, he set me adrift.

“I can taste him,” he whispered, somewhat poignantly.

“What’s your name?”

“Max.” A smile accompanied a slight bow of the head. “Maxime Detroit at your service.”

Detroit, I realized much later, was French for Strait.



©2012 Mikala Ash





This inspired a novel idea …



Dire’s Strait

By

Mikala Ash





One has to be careful when in love with a cannibal.

One must time liaisons with care.

Meeting after a meal is recommended, never before - unless one can bring along an alternative, such as evil paranormal creatures which, for the sake of civil society, must be eliminated.

Agent Dire of the Paranormal Defense Department is in such a predicament and his relationship with Max Detroit, a Frenchman with an appetite, is problematic at best.

For to Max, fine dining and love are two sides of the same coin, the distinction between them often hard to judge, much like good and evil.





Cheers from Down Under

Mikala Ash

Out now: Protect and Serve: Realm of Night

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1925

Out now: Protect and Serve: Endless Night

http://www.changelingpress.com/product.php?&upt=book&ubid=1865