With a coy smile she bit her bottom lip, “I’m nervous, it is my first time you know?”

Blushing a little, she went on, “Well my first time since … changing.”

Smiling, he pulled her in close, causing her hands to fall upon his bare chest. He felt strong and defined. She pulled away slightly and with one finger, traced the lines of his tattoos down towards his abdomen, rising and falling with the contours of his muscles. His smell was as intoxicating as it was subtle.

She knew he didn’t really smell like that, or, for that matter, possess that body. She knew that at some level, it was all just a beautiful illusion, conjured by the connection formed between their combined software. Something to do with neuro transmissions, projection overlays, and schema reconstruction…

He was always coming home late from work, always tired, and never in the mood. It’s not like I expected much, but I did expect something you know? I mean I get it; a day of labouring must be so draining, and he probably just wants to come home and put his feet up for a while. That would be totally fine if he would at least acknowledge my existence.

One time, I got myself all dolled up. I went the whole hog for him; hair dyed platinum blond, makeup, perfume, heels, and a new saucy piece of black lace from one of the fancy shops. I even got myself professionally waxed! It sure did hurt, but my goodness I have never looked so fresh down there.

He didn’t notice a thing…

Good authors are like an intuitive lover, when you let them in, they will fuck your mind in the most delightful way.

They will tease, entice, and edge you.

They will scare you in the best ways, pushing you beyond your perceived limits and into new worlds of excitement and ecstasy.

You can of course say no.

You can put the book down and walk away.

But if an author is good at what they do, you will be craving more…