Tag Archives: dating

Book Review: 12 Days The Beginning By Jade Reyner

I am not usually a lover of erotica (forgive the pun)! But, having read “12 Days The Beginning”, by Jade Reyner I can highly recommend it to you. The book is far more than a work of erotic fiction (although lovers of erotica will not be disappointed)! Reyner also deals movingly with the issue of domestic violence so anyone looking merely for erotica will be disappointed (although, as I said above there is plenty of steamy writing for those who enjoy the genre).

Elise Grayson is trapped in a deeply unhappy marriage. She coasts along supported by her best friend until she meets Vaughan Granger at an office party. There is an immediate attraction there and Elise is soon drawn into a world of passion and danger.

I will be buying the sequel.

 

For “12 Days The Beginning” please visit http://www.amazon.co.uk/Twelve-Days-Beginning-Jade-Reyner-ebook/dp/B00CLFHWS0

A Question

Conversation diverting, we two flirting. Words meaning’s, lost in dreaming. Mutual attraction or mere distraction?

Where I to broach, would your reproach, destroy all hope? Would your objection, to my suggestion end in dejection? Fear of rejection, no suggestion? Should you agree, what then for you and me?

Dark Angel

I love you because I can tell you my darkest secrets, things which would make the strongest of men go blubbering in search of his mummy. You judge me not, my blackest fantasies are your deepest desires.

In the depths of night when all but the vampire sleeps we speak of philosophy, of the darkness which lurks within the human heart. You are always there for me, my girl beautiful and serene. You laugh in time with my laughter and weep as I weep. Never changing, fixed, emortal caught in the brightness of my screen you are my virtual girlfriend, a machine.

A Question of Interpretation

“Wonderful to meet you Becky. The pictures on the website really don’t do you justice” Colin said rising to pull out a chair for his date.

“I’m sure you say that to all the girls” Becky said smiling warmly at Colin.

“No I always say what I mean and you, Becky look absolutely stunning in that blue dress”.

“Thank you” Becky replied, “This is a nice restaurant, I’ve never been here before. I just love traditional restaurants, those oak beams look to be several centuries old”.

“Yes its rare to find a place like this that hasn’t been ruined by some god awful corporate chain. The boards of those places should be lined up against the wall and shot”.

“Shooting is a little extreme. Making them eat in their own restaurants every day for the remainder of their lives would be sufficient punishment”.

“I’ll settle for that because I’m opposed to the death penalty on principle” Colin said smiling broadly. “What would you like to eat or would you like a little longer to choose?”

“The roast venison looks delicious”.

“Good choice. I’ve had the venison several times here and its always been excellent. Would you like to choose the wine?”

“I’m happy with a bottle of the house white”.

“The house white it is then” Colin said signalling to the waiter.

 

 

Bret ascended the stairs. Christ the flat was on floor 21 and he was only on the 7th floor. Typical the lift was out of order and as was so often the case with these council built 60’s tower blocks the stairs stank of urine. Thank god he didn’t live in a place like this.

 

 

“So, Becky have you met many men through the agency?” Colin asked as he poured wine into their glasses.

“This is our evening darling. It doesn’t matter about anyone else” Becky said taking Colin’s hand, “lets not spoil it by talking about other people”.

 

 

Thank Christ he was there. Bret pressed the door bell. It was opened by a lady in her late fourties or early fifties with iron grey hair.

“Come in Bret. How are you?” she said closing the door behind him.

“I’m fine thanks Molly. How are you? Who’s working?”

“We have a lovely new black girl, Caroline. She’s petite, just five feet with long black hair and 36d cup. Monica’s also working”.

“I’ll see Caroline”.

“OK but she’s with a customer at the moment. Would you like a drink while you wait?”

“No thanks” Bret said trying to make himself comfortable on the ancient sofa. Something sharp pearced his skin.

“Fuck not a bloody needle?” he said jumping to his feet.

“We don’t allow drugs here. You know that Bret”.

Bret glanced at the sofa. A rusty metal spring protruded through the threadbare fabric.

“You should get the bloody thing replaced!”

“Sorry Bret I’ll speak to the owner”.

Bret nodded. He knew that nothing would happen. The next time he visited the same sofa would be standing in that filthy corner. Did they never clean this place!

 

 

“I love Keats Ode to a Nightingale. Every time I read it I’m reduced to tears”.

Colin raised his eyebrows.

“You weren’t expecting a girl like me to derive pleasure from literature. I’m the kind of lady who reads chick lit or those trashy novels you pick up in airport book shops am I? Is that what you think of me?” Becky said. She smiled but beneath the smile Colin could detect something else, was it sorrow?

“I must admit to being surprised but, of course there is no reason why you shouldn’t enjoy reading great literature”.

“I read English literature at Notingham university. You look shocked. What is an educated girl like me doing in a business like this. That is what you are asking yourself isn’t it?” They both spoke in low voices but given the noise emanating from their fellow diners it would have been almost impossible for their conversation to have been overheard.

“Yes I must confess that I was”.

“I need to pay off my student loan. Most jobs don’t pay the kind of money to clear it quickly. OK I could pay it off gradually, through my taxes but I want to get a mortgage on a decent place and I don’t want the loan hanging over me. Plus, if I’m honest I like nice clothes and fine dining” Becky said.

“I’m sorry if I offended you”.

“You didn’t darling” Becky said allowing her right foot to rub discreetly against Colin’s leg under the table.

 

 

A door opened. Bret could hear muffled voices followed by the closing of the front door.

“Caroline there is a customer for you”.

Caroline entered and without speaking motioned to Bret to follow her. Closing the bedroom door she asked

“What do you want?”

“Sex”.

“£60”.

Bret handed over the money and undressed. Wordlessly Caroline followed his example and began to massage his back.

“Turn over” she said after only 5 minutes, “Come quick for me babe there is another client waiting”. As she spoke Caroline rolled a durex down over Bret’s erect penis. straddling him she started to sway her hips rapidly in circular motions.

In the distance the sound of running feet could be heard. A crash of breaking wood reached the couple’s ears. Caroline leapt off Bret just as the bedroom door burst open admitting two men in police uniform.

“I’m arresting you sir on suspicion of paying for sex. You do not have to say anything but anything you do say will be taken down and may be used in evidence. Do you understand?”

Bret desperately attempted to cover his privates with the bed sheet. This couldn’t be happening. He would wake up in a minute at home in his own bed. Bret had heard about the new law which criminalised those who paid for sex, however he had taken the view that police resources being extremely tight the force was highly unlikely to go out of it’s way to enforce the legislation.

“But what about her?” Bret asked pointing to Caroline.

“You haven’t answered my question sir. Do you understand the caution?”

“Yes, but what about the girl, aren’t you going to arrest her?”

“The law says that she is a victim sir so no we aren’t going to arrest her”.

Bret looked stunned.

“But that isn’t justice, its fucking Alice in Wonderland! Everything was consensual”.

“I don’t make the laws sir. I just enforce them. Now just get some clothes on as you will need to accompany us down to the station”.

 

 

“I’ll need to go soon darling” Becky said giving Colin a kiss on the cheek, “can I use your shower please?”

“Of course. There are clean towels in the airing cupboard”.

“Thanks sweetheart. Don’t get up, I’ll take a shower and let myself out. I hope to see you again soon” Becky said climbing out of the bed.

Colin lay there listening to the sound of the shower. The agency was a good one. They always provided top quality girls and the ability to pay by credit card prior to the bookings meant that you didn’t have the unpleasant task of handing over brown envelopes to your date. Under the new legislation what he was doing was technically illegal. However in the unlikely event that anyone did ask questions he and the girl would say that they had met through the agency which provided dates for social events. They had enjoyed one another’s company and had ended up in bed. Payment was however (as stated on the agency’s site) for companionship only, consequently no offence had been committed. Alice in Wonderland? Perhaps but no prosecutions had taken place of clients using escorts and Colin very much doubted that any such prosecution would meet with success.

 

The end

Literary Dating

I derive great pleasure from reading as you would expect from a writer. However I keep a sense of proportion. I would not for instance dump a partner merely because they failed to share my literary tastes (failing to shower for weeks on end, now that is a different matter, but not liking the same authors as me, no)! That is, however what Fleur Macdonald, the founder of the Omnivore literary magazine, did when she found her boyfriend reading an inferior edition of Virgil. What is  more she founded a dating service for those who feel that one’s tastes in literature trump all else when seeking a prospective partner. Well I am not about to join, however for anyone curious about the service please visit the following link http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/books/booknews/10204049/Literary-website-launches-dating-service.html

The Date

Laura slipped on her favourite blue dress, the one with primroses embroidered on it. The dress showed a small amount of cleavage but not an excessive quantity for a first date Laura thought as she slipped on her black leather shoes.

God she hoped that this guy was better than the man she’d met last Saturday. John had spent the entire evening talking about his prowess in the world of gaming.

“You know I often get home from work at 6 and the first thing I do is turn on my Windows 8 PC. It is top of the range much more powerful than the computers which sent the first men into space. Anyway as I was saying I turn on the computer and start gaming straight away. I lose track of time. When I start its 6 but when I look at the computer screen often its after midnight.”

“So what else do you do?” Laura had asked.

John had turned to her a look of genuine puzzlement on his face

“What do you mean?”

“What about your friends, you must go for a beer on a Friday evening sometimes?”

“My world is gaming. I know lots of people through gaming. We have never met but that doesn’t matter, we play online, it’s cool!”

Laura had manfully persisted

“But surely you have the odd social event with colleagues?”

“Oh at Christmas everyone goes to the work’s do. I hate these things but I go to keep my boss happy but as soon as the meals over I make my excuses and leave. Anyway as I was saying gaming is absolutely fantastic, there are so many different games that its impossible to get bored”.

John broke off suddenly remembering something

“What do you do Laura?”

“I’m a secretary in a solicitors office but in the evening I like to go to the cinema, read or”,

“There is this really cool game” John had continued cutting Laura off mid sentence.

Please not another gamer Laura preyed as she exited the taxi and walked the short distance to the restaurant.

Laura recognised Tom immediately. At well over six feet in height and with his cropped blonde hair and pearcing blue eyes he was unmistakable. At least he looks like the man I’ve been chatting to online Laura thought. That was surely a good omen.

Tom stood up and pulled out a chair for Laura. The gesture touched her. Tom was a perfect gentleman. The evening was going to go well Laura thought as she sank down into the cushioned seat.

“Its lovely to meet you Laura although we have been chatting for so long online that I feel we are old friends already”.

“Its good to meet you too Tom” Laura said taking Tom’s strong hand. Laura flinched involuntarily under Tom’s strong grip. Her poor fingers felt like dainty wild flowers which have been crushed under the hob nailed boots of a farm labourer. “You are hurting me”.

“Sorry I don’t know my own strength sometimes” Tom said releasing Laura’s hand.

Laura rubbed her fingers trying to massage some life back into them.

“What would you like to eat? I can recommend the rump steak with fresh vegetables. It really is delicious” Tom said handing Laura a menu.

“OK I’ll join you in the steak”.

“Great. What would you like to drink? The house white is excellent”.

“I’ll just have an orange juice thanks”.

“OK” Tom said beckoning to the waitress, “two steaks please. An orange juice and a bottle of the house white”.

Laura raised her eyebrows. Surely Tom wasn’t going to drink an entire bottle of wine. Evidently he was and perhaps she shouldn’t judge him to harshly as Laura and her best friend Amanda had on occasions polished off a couple of bottles of wine on a Friday evening between the two of them.

“You are much prettier in person than on the website”.

Laura blushed

“Thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment”.

“You look very English with that lovely blonde hair and your corn flower blue eyes. Are your parents English?”

“Yes why do you ask?”

“It is important to me that the English way of life is preserved”.

Laura looked confused.

“England used to be a great nation. Half the world showed red on the map. Who built up Africa and India? Who constructed the railways and stopped the natives from tearing one another apart? I’ll tell you who did all that. It was us, the English we bestrode the globe like a great colossus. We where the workshop of the world. Birmingham, Liverpool and Manchester produced cotton and other manufactured goods which where sent all over the globe. Do you know how we managed all this? Because we the English race have the blood of warriors running through our veins. Saxons, Vikings and Romans mingle in this great nation to make us what we are, a people who’s destiny is to rule the world”. Tom stopped a far away look in his eyes.

“Are you a conservative?” Laura asked. Tom’s views where well to the right of anything which her Daily Telegraph reading father had ever voiced but perhaps Tom was on the right of the party.

“Conservatism and Socialism its all part of the same old corrupt social order. Socialism and Capitalism are both responsible for bringing this once great land to it’s knees. There is a conspiracy to destroy us the white race to make Britain a racial hell hole in which through race mixing an inferior breed of muddy brown people emerges who the emerging world government can control”.

Tom broke off as the waitress brought over the wine and orange juice.

“Just look at her” Tom said once the waitress had moved out of earshot. Obviously mixed race. Some people have no pride. I mean how can a patriotic English man or woman sleep with a black? They are betraying the race and diluting the blood of our country. Can’t you see that Laura soon it will be to late if we don’t act now. We need a government which will put a stop to the rot. Kick out the immigrants and institute a programme of national regeneration”.

Laura didn’t know much about politics but she was feeling increasingly uneasy.

“But Tom that girl was almost certainly born here. She speaks with a south London accent like mine. Where should she go back to? Her home is here”.

“If a pig lives among swans it remains a pig. No amount of dressing it up to look like a swan will make it a swan. That girl can never be British (Tom said refilling his glass), she is a half breed who will be rejected by her own community and those English men and women who haven’t been juped by the jew infested cesspit which some call the media”.

“Tom you are frightening me. Those are the kind of views which lead to the concentration camps” Laura said her face turning deathly pale.

“Laura you have swallowed the same lies as most of the population. The so-called Final Solution is a fiction cooked up by international jewry to gain support for the state of Israel. The next time we meet I’ll let you have a copy of a little pamphlet I have called “Did Six Million Really die?” It comprehensively debunks the myth of the holocaust”.

“So my great grandfather thought against the Nazis for nothing, is that what you are saying” Laura said. She could feel her hands shaking in her lap and tears pricking at the back of her eyes.

“The war should never have happened. Hitler wasn’t interested in conquering Britain. We could have allied with Germany and ruled the world together. India and large parts of Africa not to mention Sri Lanka would still be ours. Imagine Laura a proud nation striding ever onwards into the sunlit uplands of prosperity. A strong, healthy white race untainted by foreign blood dominating the world. The wrong people where tried and executed at Nuremberg. Churchill should have swung from the end of a rope along with the other conservative, labour and liberal politicians who led this once proud people into a war against our European brothers. Look at young people today. They have no sense of belonging. The race soul is dying. The world is turning into one great Disney playground in which people move aimlessly from one thing to another without ever truly believing in anything. We need, desperately to reconnect with our great past, to become great again and dispel the sense of hopelessness which is destroying our people. Nationalism, sod it I’ll call it what it is as I’m not ashamed of what I am, National Socialism is the only solution to the insanity of race mixing. We need a new order in which the white people of the world join together retaining their national identities but federated in a commonwealth or union, all working together to preserve western civilisation. Have you ever read Mein Kampf, it’s a truly awe inspiring book. Hitler was a genious who’s feet Churchill wasn’t fit to wash. I’ll lend it to you when we next meet”.

The steaks arrived. Tom picked up his  cutlery and began to attack the steak with relish.

“Aren’t you hungry Laura?”

“No. Tom I’m not interested in politics but one thing I do know. I’m proud to be British but that pride has nothing to do with race. We are for all our faults a tolerant country. In the 1930s the UK took in a lot of refugees from Nazi Germany many of whom would have undoubtedly died had we not done so. David Erving and others who either downplay Nazi atrocities or deny that they happened are either stupid or they are deliberately trying to whitewash the past so that foolish people will embrace, oh what’s the word (Laura screwed up her pretty face in concentration), neo-nazi ideas. Quite frankly you make me want to throw up. You want to turn Britain into a nation of unthinking swastika waving robots all singing the same songs and marching to the same tunes. That isn’t what makes the country which I love great. It is the values of tolerance and the liberal democracy which you so detest which makes this land one I’m proud to call home. My dad often says that the English just want to be left alone to cultivate their gardens. Funny I used to think that dad was an old reactionary but, having met you I can see the inate decency in him and the other small l liberals who just want to be left alone to live their lives as they see fit”.

“Are you Jewish Laura? You spout the kind of poisonous rubbish pumped out by the Jewish controlled media”.

“I feel sorry for you Tom. You are so full of hate” Laura said standing up and reaching for her coat. Don’t contact me again”. Laura headed for the door and without looking back stepped out into the evening gloom.

The end

The Fascist In Your Bed

Imagine that you are in the dating game and that the man or woman of your dreams appears on the sceene. This is, I understand what happened in the case of a certain young lady who was in search of her knight in shining armour. Well not quite, for the man in question turned out to hold views which would have had him expelled from any centre-right (conservative) party. He was, in short a Fascist who openly avowed his admiration for Adolf Hitler. Needless to say that when the lady in question discovered the true colours of her date she removed herself so rapidly out of his clutches that one could not see her for dust.

The lady in question is not known to me. I am, however acquainted with a friend of hers and can vouch for the authenticity of the incident.

It occurred to me that the above incident would make for an interesting story without (obviously) naming the people involved or providing any clue to their identity. I hope to write a (fictional) story along these lines over the coming weeks.