I’ve been writing the next chapter for The Taming of the Fallen and here’s a few excerpts.
Excerpts from Chapter 7: Chess
Chess may be the sport of kings, the intellectual cat and mouse. The glisten of the fish roe. But checkers was every man. Checkers was sweat. It was the sweat of capture, it was quick, direct, and easy. It was push and shove. Chess was for nobles with too much time on their hands, for the frivolity of monarchs and garrulous fools. Issabella hated it. Chess could fuck off. Checkers. No hidden moves, no hidden motives. Jump, capture and take. Straight to the point. She’d like to see a bishop or a rook last on that board. Or even the Knight, the noble horseman with his tricky shuffle-move, a good checker would hop-scotch his ass any day.
She noticed the black bra still lounging like a Grecian goddess on the stair rail, and the stack of steamy paranormal books by the chair. Middle America. There was always secrets. Kinky secrets. She reached out to the front door. Just as her finger tips landed on the smooth metal knob, she heard the defiant switch of metal against metal. The door had locked itself. Issabella stepped backward and the room went black.
More on the next page.
I would be your teacher. The type of teacher that closes and locks the door, before administering the lesson. Today’s lesson? Its not about spanking, or the cuffs, it starts with the suction between our lips. It’s about a secret tryst. A private recess from the rest of the class. It’s the long slow ride of seduction. You will learn Angel. As your tutor, you will need to take your clothes off and lay on my bed. Sunken deep into the fresh comforter, surrounded by canopy tulle while candles flicker around the room.
There will be soft restraints on your ankles, because I like to see you twitch. Your hands are free to do as I instruct. You will watch as I remove my clothing. My coat, the dress shirt, my pants. The tiny flames ripple from the tide of my clothes slapping onto the nearby chair. You see my body cast in the moving yellow orange; it is the body of practiced passion. I hide myself inside tight cotton briefs, but you can see my intentions.
My reflection approaches in your hazel eyes, and you smile. It is the affirmation of romance and wicked, delicious things to come. Close your eyes. Your body, my pleasure. There’ll be no talk of the ordinary world, just my voice, instructing. Streaming fingers down your hips and my hot breath on your navel. You feel my chest between your legs, moving, sliding against your velvet pussy. My hands plunge into the soft mattress, climbing.
“Lay still Angel.”
The warmth of my body encloses us and I breathe your name in a husky whisper. Calling you. Calling the hidden girl for enchanted freedom. In a special room, tucked away from others. We kiss, you respire the days pain into my warm mouth.
“Push my briefs down, I want you to feel me.”
Your arms slide down my stomach with fingers hitched to the waist band, a rush of air and a snap against my thighs. You are wet. Rub it on me. My stomach tight to your touch, tense. Gliding up and down your slit to tease.
“How bad do you want me inside Angel? Not yet.”
-Joseph Wicke Seduction Games short erotic story 2020
and Other Words
I’ve been looking at words lately, nothing new if you are a writer… but I’ve always been interested in, and even horrified by, how words are changed to make things sound better, or more elaborate than they really are. Example: in the old days you were “Client Services” now you are a “Client Support Representative, or Client Support Specialist.”
Another example, when someone tells you to turn your router off and on, they are now using the words “power cycling” which sounds much sexier than “turn it off and on.” So, for those who don’t know what power cycling means, (they may think it involves the washing machine) now they have to ask.
I prefer a plain spoken language when I speak, straight, direct and to the point. It’s different than how I write. In the real world I don’t pretend to be better than anyone else, or speak over people’s heads. I believe that business people try to keep you at arm’s length with their tongue. (if only my tongue was that long!) lol.
The lunch lady? is now an Education Centre Nourishment Consultant.
It all comes down to language and the words companies use to try and influence your judgement, another example: McDonald’s and Starbucks, instead of “What would you like?” it is “What can I get started for you?” Why? Because psychologically/subliminally they are trying to tell you “You can order as much as you want.” Which also sounds much better than “what number meal do you want?” You’ll notice it implies that food is going to be made fresh.
“What would you like to order?” Sounds so bland, it’s a closed statement. “What can we get started?” Is open ended. It sounds more PC positive, and implies that you can order more and more.
When Safeway began looking at receipts in the check-out lane a few years ago, (just after we were asked to join their club by giving them our personal information) (which was a new thing then) (which I still hate) but it not only enabled them to track our purchases, but it also opened the door for personalized greetings. They were trying to establish a connection with their customers. IE: “Thank you Mr. Wicke, I hope you enjoy the three pounds of hamburger, oh? and what are you doing with those candles and scented lotion? Have a nice evening Mr. Wicke.”
Fake friends. I prefer the old fashioned method of getting to know someone. You go out, you get drunk, maybe throw a few punches, or sleep together, presto, you’re friends. The hard truth of it is this: I’m a man. We hunt, we gather. We know what we want. (mostly) We seize it. We drag it to the check out. We pay for it… and it’s history. I didn’t come for chit chat, I didn’t come for an “experience“… I came to bag my kill and leave. And for fucks sake if you think all this pleasantry is going to make up for your prices? You’re wrong.
I’m sorry, I apologize Safeway check-out ladies, you’re actually very nice. I just get a little crazy about this stuff.
Everything is curated and designed to sell you something. Or, influence you. Watch the words people and advertisers use. Subtle brain washing?
I went to a popular chain restaurant late one night with a buddy, we’d been out and and had a few beers. We’d already punched each other, and needed some substance. I saw biscuits and gravy on the menu. (One of my guilty pleasures that I can’t resist) (It is the carrot, and I am the donkey) On the menu it was described as being “Farm Fresh.”
The biscuits were as hard as rocks and the whole meal was disgusting.
I heard a chef on TV once say it this way “You know you are getting good quality food if they describe the actual ingredients in the dish, otherwise poor quality food is described in such a way as to make it sound good, or leave you with an emotional connection.” Hence “Farm Fresh.” OK. There was no barn behind the restaurant, so they were definitely not coming from a farm… and lets be honest, anytime I have ever walked onto a farm the only thing that smelled fresh was the manure.
Again, it’s all about words. I could go on and on, but I think for the moment my hands and tongue could be best used elsewhere. Hello hamburger and scented lotion. Egh… maybe not…
Peace, Love and Words