Woven
Here’s some more sexy art from the Seattle Erotic Arts Festival… I found myself captivated with the couple in this piece of art entitled ‘Woven’ by fine art photographer Craig Stocks. Here’s what I fictionalized about it: (After my version you’ll get the real story) When Hannah saw the flyer on the wall by the bathroom of her favorite coffee shop, she took a picture of it and texted it to her husband Hank with the caption: Let’s . And now they were at the photographer’s studio:...
Smell The Roses
For your reading pleasure…the story that was accepted by the Literary Arts Division of the Seattle Erotic Arts Festival this year. Smell The Roses I’ve never been one for the romantic gesture of champagne and roses. And dear lord don’t even think about it on Valentine’s Day when every other man is doing as Hallmark dictates. Give me a handful of wildflowers, a hit of Jameson’s from your flask and lay me down in the sage and we can remind each other what it truly means to be free....
With The Flow
The sexiest part of the Seattle Erotic Arts Festival for me was previewing photographs of the accepted art, writing about them and then reading for the Wanderlust literary art tour. This piece of art, entitled With The Flow by photographer Lace Andersen grabbed me by the throat and insisted I write about her first. She lured me to five other photos and a linked narrative about mermaids and the eroticism of the sea. I absolutely love it when other artists’ work breathe life into mine. So for your reading...
Sexy Shoes
I aspire to constantly expand and improve upon the definition of sexy in this blog. That being said, if you were to ask me two weeks ago to show you my sexiest pair of shows I would have pulled out these black strappy beauties: Because these snowshoes up the ecstasy quotient in my life several times a week. When the snow is wind scoured or frozen and not good for skiing, they enable me to pack into my cabin. After I drop off my pack, I feel like I’m...
Looking Up
So many times I tried to walk away from the daunting prospect of writing an erotic memoir. But my muses were insistent. They lured me from my yoga mat when my inner critic was quiet and my heart opened wide. They pushed me to my keyboard and gave me a glimpse of what it felt like to have a river write through me which left me trembling like a junkie wanting more. I was hooked and they knew it. I understand now the old stereotype of the hard-drinking writer...
When Roses Speak
Hard. Transcendent. Sexy. Three words that sum up my latest foray into erotic fiction. I was on deadline last week to submit a story for the Literary Arts division of the Seattle Erotic Arts Festival. I didn’t have much to work with, just some messy notes I’d jotted down last spring when my favorite photographer, Alan Shapiro (he’s amazing) posted a photo of a rose that mesmerized me with her black cherry beauty. She wrapped her thorny stem around my heart, brushed her silky petals up against my ear and...
Sexy Beside Me
I sat beside a woman for ten days who inspired me to work harder than I ever have. We never spoke a word. I didn’t know her name. I couldn’t really tell what she looked like since all eighty of us in the meditation hall were bundled up due to the unseasonably cold weather. She draped colorful scarves over her head and wrapped them around her neck like a Madonna. I was tucked into the hood of my ankle- length sweater like a monk. We accidently made eye contact...
Sexy Speech
I found a sexy new way to scare myself. I’ve been so busy with this process of getting my erotic memoir out to the world that I haven’t had much time for running whitewater, skiing the back country or doing erotic photos shoots. So I’ve been going to Toastmasters. It works. I finally worked up the nerve to do my first speech, the Ice Breaker, where I introduce myself to the group. My Inner Catholic Girl and My Inner Stripper showed up. Unlike my previous forays with public speaking,...
Silent Night
We’re having a sensuous Christmas. A freshly cut blue spruce stands inside the cabin waiting to be adorned. A colorful display of envelopes, cards from family and friends, are scattered beneath the boughs like the precious gifts that they are. We no longer buy into the the tradition of giving Christmas presents, choosing instead to retreat to our cabin to appreciate the gifts we already have. We’ve been unwrapping each other every morning in the dreamy dark. Tonight our wood-fired hot tub is at 105 degrees. After a week...
Sexy Extremes
One weekend: I’m at a Girls’ Night Out with a group of river sisters I received like a dowry when I married my raft guide. We drink margaritas. We eat enchiladas. We laugh. We touch. We express every thought that lands on our lips. We dress up and dance for three hours straight to a funk band at the Belly Up in downtown Aspen. Wild feminine energy freely expressed. Super sexy. The next weekend: I’m at a ten-day silent Vipassana meditation course. I am living in community with forty...