Lying Through Her Fangs - Scene 8

Lying Through Her Fangs

Scene 8

Hael’s P.O.V .

“Look at me, Hael.” I felt the cold of her hand on mine.

I turned to face her in the elevator door as it closed on the store, then her eyes dilated like a deer caught in flight. Her voice changed. I have no word for it other than power, like when your boss enters the boardroom. The sounds have meaning and purpose to them, instead of flirts or barbs.

“Listen to my voice and hear my wishes. I need a fake boyfriend for an event and I’ve chosen you. You’ll do as I ask and my friends and coworkers will never be the wiser. I won’t hurt you and you’ll have a wonderful time. As a matter of fact, you won’t even remember this discussion when we part ways in the next two weeks. Do you understand?”

That cut things to the point. You expected games and teases when you met up with a woman. I was unsure of how to take that so I hid my insecurity and pushed my mind forward.

Was this an exotic woman who was crazy cool or simply crazy in the head? She didn’t act like the latter so my gut was to stick with her and see where this leads me. What could it hurt? Just looking at her was enough to stir my molasses-in-January libido. She was tall for a woman but looked like a lithe Bond girl with her mesmerizing gaze, hypnotic voice, and graceful curves. Her long hair was chocolate wave across her shoulders and her legs seemed to go for miles in her linen slacks. If she wore a short skirt, the sight might kill a man.

I mirrored the serious tone in her statement. “Yes, Xylia. It’ll be my honor to escort you.”

She shook herself slightly, like changing mental gears mid-sentence just as the doors opened on the bottom floor.

“After you, my dear.” I waved her in front of me.

And the view was worth it. This is why men chose chivalry, because women always walked in front of us. Besides, gawking is tacky.

There was something about the way she held herself that reinforced my gut feeling that she was no psycho lady in disguise. My instincts rarely led me astray.

“Would you like to go to the food court and grab something? It gives us some time to talk a little more.”

She considered it for a moment.

“Unless you’d like a more intimate restaurant?” Had I insulted her with my idea for fast food when I just wanted to be around her a few more moments?

“How about the diner?” she asked.

“Perfect.” The white and red of the corner restaurant had vinyl seats and fake jukeboxes on every table. It made you want to order a malt, just for nostalgia’s sake.

We walked side by side most of the way and my surprise was when we were seated she didn’t hesitate to place her order.

“I’ll have a water, a rare cheeseburger, and a strawberry shake.” All was brisk but accompanied by a warm smile.

She was high class, but a man loved a woman who knew what she wanted. If she liked camping and beer then she’d be a God send. But based on what I knew so far, I’d bet she was more the glass of wine by her fireplace type.

Then the waitress got my attention, “Yes. I’ll have a root beer and a mushroom cheeseburger with fries.” Staying active in the fresh air gave me the right to eat junk food on occasion.

“So, what do you do, Hael?” She asked after the waitress left.

Here we go, the how much do you make topic. Will she ask what kind of car I drive and where I went to college, too?

Keeping my eyes from rolling, I answered. “I own my own landscaping company that does anything from pools to private gardens.” I stated flatly.

“That explains how you look so healthy and tan.”

“Same question to you,” I said as her frothy shake arrived with our burgers.

“I’m an accountant at the main blood bank for Atlanta.” A small smile graced her lips.

My surprise must have shown on my face. She chuckled before she bit into her cheeseburger.

“You must get that reaction all the time as it seems that you’re more cover girl model than an accountant.”

“It shocks everyone. Let’s just say that I’m not the typical downtown Atlanta kind of girl.”

“I guess you’ll tell me all the interesting facts about yourself as we progress forward?” I asked her as she neatly ate the messy burger.

“That will happen from time to time.” She quietly laughed. “Tell me more.”

“I’m an only child, love seeing things being created, live in Dunwoody, adore animals and kids. I’ve never been married but came close once after college. No baggage there other than being careful not to have a woman with a roving eye. My bad habits are staying up way too late, being a workaholic, and being a loner.”

“Interesting. I live in Decatur, am independent but I do have a few close friends in my life. My job causes me to have to go to benefits and functions when I’d rather be in the office looking at ways to help the community. Bad habits, hmm. I don’t do mornings and work a later shift at my job. No marriages and I never even came close. My parents passed away before they could even try to set me up with someone, as was their custom.”

“I’m sorry about your parents. I’m guessing you’re from over seas,” I offered while I accepted a drink refill from the waitress.

“It was long ago and I’m settled with it. Yes, they were Algerian, so that was normal for them but I’ve remained stubbornly single.”

They discussed a few details about their jobs while they finished the meal.

I stepped in when she asked what her portion of the tab was. “I’ve got it,”

“We just met. You’re not buying my lunch,” she replied.

“You can simply owe me, especially if we’re going to be seeing each other again.” I snatched the bill up and handed it to the waitress staring at us.

“So it’s like that?” The gleam in her dark eyes was a warm challenge.

I bent over the table and was just inches from her nose when I playfully replied. “It’s just like that.”

There was a look of doubt in her eyes as she held my gaze, like she had something she wanted to say.

“What?” I asked, waiting for her to tell me she had rethought the situation.

“Nothing.” She looked away and fumbled with her phone before we got up from the table.

“Sure?”

“I’m good. Here’s my number and I’ll text you on us meeting up to get our outfits together.”

“Because I wouldn’t have a suit or tuxedo, right?” I saved her umber in my phone and had her do the same with mine.
            “Do I apologize for my wrong assumption?” She asked as she stood up from the table.

“None needed and yes, I have a suit but no tux. I’m guessing I’ll need one?”

She nodded solemnly at me. “And as it’s my event that you’re attending, I pay for the trimmings. Can you handle that?”

“So, it’s like that?”

“It is,” she answered with a smirk on her lovely face.

My gut just telegraphed a message that I’d be dumb to pass this up . I may not believe in true love but lust and friendship were obtainable. Who needed love when you had happiness and a hot woman wanting your attention?

“I’m at your disposal.”

***

)))Corset Hugs(((

Ginny Lynn

Wench Writer

Lying Through Her Fangs - Scene 6

Lying Through Her Fangs

Scene 6

Here’s hoping the mall would be better. Wait, did I just say that? I’m so not a teen heading for the perfect Twilight movie premier outfit. This is a trip by a grown woman window shopping for a man who’s probably better off with a store mannequin. But I took what was left of her coffee and headed to the land of kiosks and hormone driven wallets.

I hid at the back of the mall at dusk, by the copse of trees, was the safest place to park on an overcast day in Atlanta. As I left my heavily tinted SUV there, my equally tinted sunglasses went with me. I entered the largest department store at this mall put me in the men’s department--the best location for men to shop and disappear before they got anywhere near the throb of humanity. Men had it easy. Most of us women had to strut through cosmetics and perfumes to get to the lingerie section. By then you carried the ambiance of a street walker coming in for fishnets and garter belts.

Standing in the middle of the aisle between business and casual, I fought for which to “shop” through first. Gentlemen in suits and ties were elegant and Bond-like but most were posturing peacocks. Men in casual attire were more my style, though I didn’t exactly get sweaty over a cowboy in a Stetson ad. My likes lay in the middle and I was being stared at while I stood flipping between styles.

There were a few men eyeing me over racks, but I pretended to be looking at the rainbow of wrinkle free dress shirts in front of me. Having no idea what a size fifteen was in these things, I flipped through to make it appear like I knew what I was doing.

“Looking for a particular size or color?” asked a voice behind me. The voice belonged to a tall brunette standing just outside my personal space.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I in your way?”

“Yes and no.”

“Which is it?” My eyes sized him up and this was worth a moment of my time.

“Yes, you’re in the way but no, I don’t happen to mind.” He flashed a smile.

It couldn’t be this easy. No way.

“I can get out of your way, then?” I swiveled but his words stopped me.

 “Why, when I have an excuse to reach around you like this?” His left arm snaked out and grabbed a light blue shirt from the metal rack by my face. Then he did the same with his right hand on my other side. “Or this.”

The second hand held a sage green that matched the tight polo shirt he currently had on over strategically ripped jeans.

“Is that what you came for?” I asked as I made great eye contact with him, daring him onward..

He looked at both and then at me. “Oh darn, wrong sizes.”

He slipped them back in their appropriate slots simultaneously, and reached further down. He was positioned at my waist with both hands and came back slowly with a burgundy and a bright red.

I tilted me head over my shoulder to take in the selection again.

“Those aren’t the same colors. What shades do you need?”

“Oh, you’re right. These would look better on you.”

He copied the previous maneuver then slipped his hands to each side of my hips to the lower rack. This had him leaning far enough into me that we were staring into each other’s eyes. This was prime for a kiss, a bite, or compulsion but I waited to see what the suave man with light brown eyes and perfect teeth would do as his next trick.

“Hmmm, black and classic white. You could never go wrong there. Right, my dear?”

Hovering there, in my face. I could hear the steady beat of his heart beneath his shirt. No racing. Shouldn’t the beat be more up tempo if I was exciting him? This wasn’t right. Most guys like this were usually—

“Gary, what the hell are you doing?” A shrill voice interrupted my thoughts. “I send you in here for a shirt for the wedding and you try to pick up some hoochie in the meantime.”

“White or black, Darla dear?” He whipped, with inhuman speed, to face the banshee coming at him.

“Excuse me?” She stopped within two steps of us.

I wanted to back up but my escape would have taken the rack with it.

“This lady was just helping me with what shirt, dearest. She thought the black but I told her you always liked me in white as it was more retro to set off your classic clothing style.”

He put on puppy dog eyes for me to go along with this and I was sorely tempted to tell him he was the one trying to make a sale. But I didn’t want ...  why does she go along with it? Tell us. Especially after the “older lady” bit.

“Quite true. In fact, I almost tipped the display over and he had to reach for me. He’s quite a man. You’re a lucky lady.”

Darla’s pinched face looked like she was deciding whether to buy this line. She had her hands full with this one and I wasn’t sure who I felt sorry for more.

“Did you get the right size, sir?”

He had to look at it twice to make sure. “Yes, indeed. Thanks and be careful.”

She humphed at me, tucked her arm in his, then sashayed her man out of the department, all the while complaining about her fluffy, pink, bridesmaid’s dress.

And to think I imagined it would be easy. Nope, not that easy. Score one for the Old Cat Lady and zip for the Vampire Liar.

So long as I was at the mall anyway, I decided to find a dress for the party and headed to the women’s section. Work had been hellish the last few months and I hadn’t had time to shop anything other than online sales.

I took the last sip of my now room temperature frap, and turned for the waste basket. My arm hit a solid wall and bounced. Dropping the cup like a surprised mortal would, I looked up to see what folly I had just made in public. He was no folly. He was hot  with his boy next door charm mixed with romance cover model sex appeal. And I had just about clotheslined him in the juniors department.

“I’m so sorry.” Thank heavens it had been empty.

“No problem, I should have been looking where I was going.”

We both bent to get it and our eyes met. His heart cranked up. Hello hawtness, my name is Damsel and I’m in distress. Can you come save me?

)))Corset Hugs(((

Ginny Lynn

Wench Writer

Lying Through Her Fangs - Scene Five

Lying Through Her Fangs

Scene Five

The blazing Georgia heat hummed against my heavy blackout drapes, and I woke up with a better feeling than when I’d had fallen asleep. In the hours of oblivion, my dreams had reworked the scenario over and over again with only one outcome—I had to work some magic or I was going to have more egg on my face then a blind pastry chef.

When I tossed the brocade covers off of me, Bits meowed her complaints as my movements roused her from her chosen spot. 

“If the guys knew I had you, one of them would be closer to winning the bet on when I’ll become a crazy old cat lady,” I said to the cream colored Scottish fold. She’d been an impulse buy, though Christianna had said a fur stole would have made a better warming companion. Her first glimpse of Bits caused her to laugh until pink tears seeped out of her perfectly winged eyes.

“Bits? Is that short for Kibble and Bits or just Bits of her ears are left?”

The cat raised her voice at my crazy cat lady comment spread out as if it was her bed instead of mine? What does she do to show she’s sulking?]. Knowing  she wouldn’t let me make the bed until she stopped sulking, I left it unmade, against my inner neat freak.

Now that my robe was on, I could finish the task now that Bits had vacated her spot on the bed. Once the smoky blue duvet was properly in place, my pillows were perfectly settled; I headed the restroom so I could make myself presentable for my possible date with destiny.

I nudged my cat’s miniscule ears as she daintily ate her food and smirked. The bar goers had, in fact, won—I was an old cat lady. But, I’d fallen for her the minute the breeder had posted her picture and had the carrier with trimmings purchased the very next night.

After I picked her up, I’d whispered, “One of us will be outliving the other one but if you’re the only person to successfully live with me then welcome to my nightlife.”

The coffee shop would be first as maybe a frappuccino would keep me cool as I window shopped for Could Be Mr. Right. You’d think a lady such as myself would not be nervous about something like this but maybe I’d adopted that habit from being around humans this long. I placed my order and surveyed the men in the small building. Among the pike sippers and muffin eaters were three men in my age group. Two were accompanied by others and one table debated culture while the other, failed . The conversation was more heated at the relationship table so I waited for my caffeine closer to the culture club.

“Order ready for Ms. X.” The teen hurried to start making another drink for the line quickly developing behind me.

The last time Christianna had come here with me, she had told them the orders were for Lady X and Honeydew. That had been after an all-nighter were we had made our own pub crawl through Decatur and she’d gotten phone numbers galore. The only difference with her getting numbers was that she was saucy enough to ask the gentleman to write them on her body for her to look over later.

Frap in hand, I chose a seat in an empty corner, where I could check out the possibilities.  Anger radiated off one good looking guy in the relationship group and I instantly took him off the list. I didn’t have the energy to waste on the constant compulsion I’d need to use to cover that character default. A dirty blonde metrosexual in the corner eyed me over his phone but went back to whatever had him intently gazing at the small screen.  

A Latin man nearby discussed the latest fashion of women dressing more mature than they should at early ages. The woman next to him stated how old fashioned he was. It was entertaining and worth a few more moments of listening just to see if she beat him down with her feminist point of view.

“Are you waiting for someone?” a male voice drowned out her response.

I’d picked up on the metrosexual slipping closer to me as he used the excuse of getting a napkin to be in front of my table.

“Possibly,” I murmured as my eyes staid in front of me as I hoped he would say something intriguing.

“Seeing that you were alone and I’m having writer’s block, it didn’t hurt to stretch my legs for a minute.”

A smile quirked at my lips and I glanced at him. He was attractive but I couldn’t read him. Strange. His aura was a muddy forest green, which usually meant insecurity and lack of responsibility. Not a great first impression.

He took the seat opposite me without invitation, and leaned over. “But seriously, are you waiting for someone because I could be that someone.”

Points for twisting the cliché pick up line. I perused his mind as he stared at me.

“Tell me how you would fit an order that may have been placed?” I quipped as I waited to be impressed.

“ Hmm, no matter the order, a nine inch tool always fits the bill.” Then I saw it, what he had been doing when I’d waltzed in for my frap. It was a bevy of silicone enhanced young ladies in an orgy. On loop.

“You’re a porn addict and nothing of mine will be for your viewing. Have a nice day and wash your hands.”

Grabbing what was left of my happy frap, I made the quickest exit possible for a vampire trying to act human. My retreat left vapors. Door number two HAD to be better than this. 

Lying Through Her Fangs - Scene 4

Lying ThRough Her Fangs

After a few long moments of laughter and condescending remarks from the woman who was supposed to be my best friend, she agreed to help me with my little problem. Our work was cut out for us, especially as she wasn’t in town.  

Just before Christanna had hung up, she’d said, “Xylia, I’ll check out the escorts as I know which ones to avoid while you see if there are any male options on your side of the line.”

“How do you know which ones are sleazy? Wait, don’t answer that,” I replied as I shook an image from my head of my best friend looking over a naked male lineup.

 I could wait to see what Christianna came up with on her front, or I could try to find a man to compel on my own. Never one to sit by the sidelines while waiting to be rescued, I got ready for bed and made notes of places I could find a gentleman who would be acceptable before my femme fatale best friend lined up a male revue from her frequent flyers miles.

“She better not hook me up with one of her seconds, just to be generous,” I said to the empty bathroom as I brushed my teeth.

The mere thought of being with a man who would have seen her in various stages of undress was enough to have me blushing. And even well-fed vamps can’t blush. Was it any more demeaning to have her cast offs than it was to seek out a man off the streets? Or in this case, a website where men flaunted pictures of their bare chests to get women to order them with a side of hot sauce?

“How did I get myself into this? Oh wait, because I almost feel sorrier for my love life than my friends do.” I fluffed my pillows with more energy than was necessary.

Somehow I knew that there would be little sleep while the sun owned the sky for the next several hours. Propping myself up with all the pillows I loved on my bed, I slipped the notepad onto my lap so I could jot down my options. I wanted to have a plan in place by sunset, when I’d be able to escape my well-decorated prison again.

“Dear Abby, where does a single vampire female meet men of outstanding quality in Atlanta when she can only seek them out in the dead of night? Signed, Desperate And Dead Debbie.” I mimicked a slow southern drawl that would have made Scarlett proud.

1.      Liquor stores

2.      Movie theaters

3.      Grocery stores

4.      Book stores

5.      Park

“Okay, now the real world will intrude as I narrow down these choices I have,” I said as I ticked off the ones more valid than the others.

1. Liquor stores - Men there would be looking to get drunk and get laid. Drunk people are more difficult to compel, so that option seemed like more effort than I was willing to put in.

2. Movie theaters - The darkness would be a blessing for compelling the man but most men are there on dates. If a single man was in attendance then my speaking to him would probably have an usher being called to escort us out for being an annoyance.

3. Grocery stores - If I found a yummy specimen in the bread aisle, checking out buns, how would compulsion work with people possibly smacking us with shopping carts or unruly kids screaming for cookies?

4. Book stores – With my current strain of luck, I’d find a guy in the romance aisle and he’d be gay. Guilt would have me running a tab with a local therapist if I made the faux pas of accidentally forcing my way on a gay guy.

5. Park - Worst of all choices would be if I made eye contact with a mysterious man who turned out to be a rapist or psychopath. Yep, he’d be the one where you only saw one of his hands in full view, and his lower half behind a bush. My brain imagined the bush shaking like out of a horror flick. I shuddered.

For the love of all Type O, there had to be a venue where conversation and compulsion were options away from prying eyes. Sure, I could work some mad mojo on a man who fell into my gaze like a swimmer to a welcoming pool, but where?

Then the answer hit me like a glove covered slap to the face. There was only one place that I could think of where a single person could peruse more than just window dressings and cheery kiosks. A place I could go to on an overcast afternoon or during late afternoon hours and have plenty of convenient back hallways where two people could disappear without security being instantly called.

No matter how juvenile and how far below normal my standards were, I would be getting up in approximately seven hours to go to the mall in Buckhead to look for the stranger that would be the new man of my life.

“Let the embarrassment of my life begin,” I proclaimed to the world as the sun came up and I forced my eyes to close.  

***

)))Corset Hugs(((

Ginny Lynn

Lying Through Her Fangs - Part Two of my Paranormal Blog Book

Lying Through Her Fangs

Part Two

Where the hell was I going to get a man that could tolerate an evening of paranormal flamboyance, let alone the Halloween extravaganza that was thrown every year? I couldn’t get the best-suited man even if an ad was placed in the local newspaper. With my current path in the love department, I’d be lucky to get laid in the next three years and that was without compelling a man to see past the fangs. Well, that wasn’t completely true. I’d had offers, but from douchebags who thought they were God’s gift to fangs. That was the main reason for keeping to solitude and quick meals on the fly. None of them would thrill me enough to get a layer of sweat on my vampire tough skin. I wasn’t about to say I was on the ugly side of the coffin but I certainly wasn’t a sexual goddess who oozed pheromones with every twitch of my hips. As I was of Algerian descent, I had long, thick hair and an hourglass figure, great attributes to have if you were going to be stuck as an immortal. My height was a bit above average and olive undertones kept me from looking like a pale creature of the moon. Still, finding a man was a possibility but not one that would withstand the oddity that I called life.

Berating myself the whole way home, I decided to do some research on the internet for the best places to meet great guys but the plan would need to include a clandestine way of compelling this man to go out with me. Seriously, who wanted that type of relationship? Well, the plan had merits for this particular case and would leave no strings of attachment behind except him getting a nagging feeling that he'd met me before. The reality of this not being an easy feat brought me full circle to the previous advertisement idea, my front door was in front of me and I hadn’t paid attention to anything as I’d sulked the whole way back to my lonely house in historical downtown Decatur. After tossing my leather clutch on the side board, the Mary Janes were slipped off by the time I had the screen blazing on my fifteen inch laptop. Scoping sites, I accidentally looked up an escort service on purpose. Telling myself it was only research didn’t take away the icky feeling at paying someone to get me through a couple of lonely nights of embarrassment in front of colleagues and my few friends.

“Why did I lie to them in the first place? I’m a freaking idiot. All I had to do was fake a happy face and convince them that my going alone was more professional when attending work related events.”

Smacking my fingers onto the keyboard in annoyance, I yelped when moody elevator music came on for the site that I had engaged. The header was clean and to the point, with tabs of the services, information about the company, and personal biographies on the employees. Thank the heavens above the site didn’t give me more viruses than I could pick up from anyone at the local dance club. Luckily, the only virus I could catch was some hybrid strain of lycanthropy as my DNA was already genetically altered from the Vlad Syndrome I had been born with.

Without a risk of STDs, and the ability to compel anyone I want [to do XXX], sex should be more of an option.

“Why am I such a shrinking violet?” I asked the dust mites and leather upholstery. Maybe if I’d had a ghost roommate I would get some type of feedback, with the added bonus that the sad details of my solitary life wouldn’t ever be voiced out loud to anyone. That would be a positive as I hated the feeling that my need for a companion made me feel like a permanent wallflower.

There was only one thing left for me to do.

Taking a deep breath, as if I needed air in my lungs, I dialed her cell and slumped in my favorite chair. Let the mental beatings begin.

“‘Ello, dearie.” The chipper, baritone voice of my only true friend in the world came through the speaker.

“Christianna, did I call at a bad time?” I asked, silently hoping she was going to sleep with the six hour time difference between us.

“Nope. I’m between dates right now so I have the time to talk to my bestest friend,” she joked.

“Having fun in Madrid? I know it’s business trip but pleasure is never out of reach for you.”

“You know me,” she answered, chuckling to herself. Christianna was my opposite in everything but our similar strain of Vlad Syndrome. She was a petite blonde with shoulder length hair, blue eyes, a feisty spirit, and took bed partners like a sexual predator.

“I’d hate to interrupt a good seduction scene.” I laughed as I imagined her holding a man on the end of a chain as she answered the phone.

“You didn’t, but I know you didn’t call to live vicariously through my sex life, so what’s up chickadee?”

With a deep breath, I gathered what little courage I had left in the pit of my stomach. “You know we have the ball and the Halloween party plus the fact that I’m always without a date so I told the gang at the bar that I was currently seeing someone that would be my date at both events.”

Taking an unnecessary breath, I gave her a moment to take in all I had spewed at her.

“Wait. Miss Stay True actually lied through her pretty little fangs about dating a non-existent man who would have to appear like a trick from a magic show? Are you kidding me?” The laughter on the other end had me banging my head against my high backed chair.

"Yeah, yeah, it's hysterical. So, are you gonna help me or not?"

***

Lying Through Her Fangs - Part Two of my Paranormal Blog Book

Lying Through Her Fangs

Part Two

Where the hell was I going to get a man that could tolerate an evening of paranormal flamboyance, let alone the Halloween extravaganza that was thrown every year? I couldn’t get the best-suited man even if an ad was placed in the local newspaper. With my current path in the love department, I’d be lucky to get laid in the next three years and that was without compelling a man to see past the fangs. Well, that wasn’t completely true. I’d had offers, but from douchebags who thought they were God’s gift to fangs. That was the main reason for keeping to solitude and quick meals on the fly. None of them would thrill me enough to get a layer of sweat on my vampire tough skin. I wasn’t about to say I was on the ugly side of the coffin but I certainly wasn’t a sexual goddess who oozed pheromones with every twitch of my hips. As I was of Algerian descent, I had long, thick hair and an hourglass figure, great attributes to have if you were going to be stuck as an immortal. My height was a bit above average and olive undertones kept me from looking like a pale creature of the moon. Still, finding a man was a possibility but not one that would withstand the oddity that I called life.

Berating myself the whole way home, I decided to do some research on the internet for the best places to meet great guys but the plan would need to include a clandestine way of compelling this man to go out with me. Seriously, who wanted that type of relationship? Well, the plan had merits for this particular case and would leave no strings of attachment behind except him getting a nagging feeling that he'd met me before. The reality of this not being an easy feat brought me full circle to the previous advertisement idea, my front door was in front of me and I hadn’t paid attention to anything as I’d sulked the whole way back to my lonely house in historical downtown Decatur. After tossing my leather clutch on the side board, the Mary Janes were slipped off by the time I had the screen blazing on my fifteen inch laptop. Scoping sites, I accidentally looked up an escort service on purpose. Telling myself it was only research didn’t take away the icky feeling at paying someone to get me through a couple of lonely nights of embarrassment in front of colleagues and my few friends.

“Why did I lie to them in the first place? I’m a freaking idiot. All I had to do was fake a happy face and convince them that my going alone was more professional when attending work related events.”

Smacking my fingers onto the keyboard in annoyance, I yelped when moody elevator music came on for the site that I had engaged. The header was clean and to the point, with tabs of the services, information about the company, and personal biographies on the employees. Thank the heavens above the site didn’t give me more viruses than I could pick up from anyone at the local dance club. Luckily, the only virus I could catch was some hybrid strain of lycanthropy as my DNA was already genetically altered from the Vlad Syndrome I had been born with.

Without a risk of STDs, and the ability to compel anyone I want [to do XXX], sex should be more of an option.

“Why am I such a shrinking violet?” I asked the dust mites and leather upholstery. Maybe if I’d had a ghost roommate I would get some type of feedback, with the added bonus that the sad details of my solitary life wouldn’t ever be voiced out loud to anyone. That would be a positive as I hated the feeling that my need for a companion made me feel like a permanent wallflower.

There was only one thing left for me to do.

Taking a deep breath, as if I needed air in my lungs, I dialed her cell and slumped in my favorite chair. Let the mental beatings begin.

“‘Ello, dearie.” The chipper, baritone voice of my only true friend in the world came through the speaker.

“Christianna, did I call at a bad time?” I asked, silently hoping she was going to sleep with the six hour time difference between us.

“Nope. I’m between dates right now so I have the time to talk to my bestest friend,” she joked.

“Having fun in Madrid? I know it’s business trip but pleasure is never out of reach for you.”

“You know me,” she answered, chuckling to herself. Christianna was my opposite in everything but our similar strain of Vlad Syndrome. She was a petite blonde with shoulder length hair, blue eyes, a feisty spirit, and took bed partners like a sexual predator.

“I’d hate to interrupt a good seduction scene.” I laughed as I imagined her holding a man on the end of a chain as she answered the phone.

“You didn’t, but I know you didn’t call to live vicariously through my sex life, so what’s up chickadee?”

With a deep breath, I gathered what little courage I had left in the pit of my stomach. “You know we have the ball and the Halloween party plus the fact that I’m always without a date so I told the gang at the bar that I was currently seeing someone that would be my date at both events.”

Taking an unnecessary breath, I gave her a moment to take in all I had spewed at her.

“Wait. Miss Stay True actually lied through her pretty little fangs about dating a non-existent man who would have to appear like a trick from a magic show? Are you kidding me?” The laughter on the other end had me banging my head against my high backed chair.

"Yeah, yeah, it's hysterical. So, are you gonna help me or not?"

***

Writing Tools - Queries

I checked out How to Write a Query Letter, Everything You Need To Know Explained Simply by Donna Murphy and found a few things to share with you guys.

The usual structure for a query letter is:

Paragraph 1: The Hook - Open up with a hook (statement) that grabs the attention of the reader so they are instantly interested in your project but it has to be relevant to your story (even a quote from the manuscript can work).

Paragraph 2: Supporting Details - This is where you start giving basic ideas that build the hook into the main premise of your story line or plot arc. (When-What-Where-When-Why)

Paragraph 3: Qualifications - Here you focus on your qualifications to write the piece you are submitting. Don't make it lengthy but make sure to explain why you are the person to share this story.

Paragraph 4: Closing - Make sure to thank the person using their time to check into your manuscript. Also make sure all ends are tied up and they have several ways to reach you for any further information.

TIPS - There are personal pieces of yourself that you can add to these but make sure it stays professional. You can add a quote from your book (as stated above) or add something that makes your story relevant to something going on in pop culture. If your book relies heavily on certain emotions then add touches of that into you query, like humor if it's a romantic comedy or a few powerful phrases if it's an impactful or dramatic story, etc.

I hope this helps anyone who is struggling with the basics and be sure to share anything that you have found to be helpful in your own query letters.

Have a great day and thanks for stopping by.

)))Corset Hugs(((

Ginny Lynn
Wench Writer

Soap Box - Queries/Submissions and Marketability

I know this may come across as a rant but I really want this situation to be explained to me. I don't have a wide enough knowledge of the publishing industry to read between the lines nor do I have an agent on a friendly enough basis to go to on this subject. So, if you have some knowledge on this, or have a person I can ask, please hit me up. (BTW - I will not be giving any names as it isn't about the person/company but the actual meaning of what I need to do next.)

"It's not marketable." OR/AND "We wouldn't know how to properly market that?"

I have two complete manuscripts and I'm sending them to agents and publishers for a possible contract. One of them is a Gothic Paranormal and the other is a Paranormal/Urban Fiction that has actually been plotted out to be a series.

The Para/UF
          The characters are several different breeds between witches, shifters, sirens, vampires, and such so if that's the problem then I have no idea on how to narrow it down without completely trashing the series plot line. It's based in a southern town so I know that isn't the problem. I do have a few different things for the outer conflict but they're all relevant to pop culture. Maybe as some are buzz words that can be a negative or a positive, it's too touchy for them to deal with. I'm not being told anything specific other than the above and a couple of people stating that if it was YA they might consider it more.
          My critique partners from then and my more recent betas have all "fallen" for it and want it published but the stories aren't being grabbed up by the professional publishing community. Why? It even won a WETA award, so I'm totally confused. Yes, I'm debating on making it self published as I have no intention of killing the story.
          There HAS to be a market out there since Best Selling Authors like Kim Harrison, Laurell K Hamilton, Carrie Vaughn, Keri Arthur, and Charlaine Harris all wrote novels containing more than one breed of preternatural plus included pop culture avenues in their story lines. Yes, some of these ladies entered in the older market, when things were hot, but many of us read these items so why not publish more of them?

The Gothic
          It is set in a small southern town, so that should be okay. What I have with it is a psychic mixing with two preternatural beings (one is the villain) plus the mansion/eery happenings/dark secrets that are typical in a gothic novel. As it's the newer of the two manuscripts, it hasn't gotten as many responses since I just started putting it out at the end of June. I've gotten good reviews on it from my beta readers and critique ladies (that write the same subject), so I need to see if it's my story line or the market isn't ready for another novel in this genre.

Well, there you have it, my latest quandary. Can you offer me any news or info on these?

)))Corset Hugs(((

Ginny Lynn
Wench Writer

Second Week Snippets - From the Fur (Unedited)

This is the opening of a manuscript that I started and I'm letting it stew for a bit to see if I need to progress further. Set in an older time frame, the heroine is a wolf shifter who's been bullied all her life and the hero is a closed hearted man who has taken himself away from the world and it's drama. This will throw the two together in a heat of passion and fight for survival.

***

The blood was ambrosia to my panging stomach but it was also terrifying in it’s delivery. How could he have killed the female peasant? He didn’t need to as there was game migrating into the forest. He could’ve taken us farther into the limbed depth to fill our vast emptiness. But he chose to kill a virgin who had mistakenly came across his prowling steps.

He’d even rubbed red against my muzzle after making the killing blow. I knew by the scent that she had been a virgin, untainted by the darkness that had just taken her soul. I heard footsteps rumbling toward us, knowing we were about to be confronted. Blast his hide for crossing this line, with so many of us here to pay for this crime. My instinct told me not to look any further upon the body at his paws and to run for cover, as the devil himself would be upon us quickly.

I yipped a cry to the others as I turned my tucked tail toward the hills. Hearing the shuffle of my escaping pack, my heart leapt as the human neared us. We’d all been caught by surprise and would pay for it dearly. A few were frightened enough that their bodies rode too closely to mine. It was a momentary tangle of limbs and then a missed step that had me lagging behind the others. Fear rode the air as I fought to recover, but I wasn’t quick enough.

I heard a bellow just before I felt the ripping pain in my hip. I faltered further, hitting the churned earth, as my pack left me there. I was shot and would be sacrificed for someone else’s crime. God help me.

***

Would that grasp your interest? It's from her point of view and I can put his point of view on next's month Second Week Snippets.

)))Corset Hugs(((

Ginny Lynn

Wench Writer