“My German” published in the New Urge Reader, Vol. 3 !

NUR3It’s been waaaaaaay too long since I updated this site, but I couldn’t resist sharing the splendid news that my story, “My German,” was recently published in this juicy volume of erotic stories by women writers. I’ll include a delicious excerpt, but scoot on over to Amazon and get the full treatment in e-volume or print copy, darlings.

xoxoxo,

Marina

 

One of the poses he liked best, in fact, was when I arched my back and touched the wooden vessel he’d shellacked to a mahogany sheen. I always got the impression—topless, facing the harbor by the gray-green light of the tiny window, tipping my head to gaze over my left shoulder—that I was myself for him but not the self I’d known. I liked that about him. He understood layers—in paint, in people— very well.

Florian’s grandparents had experienced the war years, the Cold War after. There was always the whiff of something about the camps—were they complicit or had they hidden neighbors, perhaps? We were complicit in understanding not to ask too much, that it was good for the creator and the sitter to rest in easy mystery.

“Your breast, the way the nipple ees ees like a shell—what ees it you call zem? The curved one,” he made a folded fist with the hand not holding the wet-dipped brush, “catches light puhfect,” he’d complimented that final Wednesday.

“A conch,” I said. “C-o-n-c-h.”

I’d just come from the figure study class. The whole time, my left leg bent over my right leg until a cramp set in. Recently, I’d realized that I looked forward to him getting out the green-bottle ointment. With the spongy applicator tip, he’d rub where I said I was aching. He could be no more than eight or ten years older—few gray strands shot through his sandy brown beard. Always kempt, but something of the barely-contained curled silent inside him.

“But said like c-o-n-k, ja?”

Florian’s green eyes had a murky depth that was also clean. His breath scented like silky strands of early-summer garlic my cousin and I had liked to pull from our grandparents’ lawn and slip under our tongues.

“Exactly,” I said.

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“Mother’s Milk” Published in NU2: Erotic Fiction by New Women Writers

Excited to announce my story’s publication in The New Urge Reader 2: Erotic Fiction by New Women Writers. In the introduction, Elizabeth Yoo says: “‘Mother’s Milk,’ by Marina Kris, melds the maternal and the carnal, focuses on a struggling writer who is offered a very unconventional opportunity to bond with her well-endowed friend.” Check it out for some scintillating reads that will seduce and sizzle more than just your mind.

http://www.amazon.com/New-Urge-Reader-Fiction-Writers/dp/0692572112/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1448554134&sr=1-1&keywords=NEW+URGE+READER+2

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Delicious Update: My Short Story in The NU2

I’m pleased to announce that my story, “Mother’s Milk,” will be published in The New Urge Reader 2. My editor says it will likely be published by December 1st. Stay tuned for all the yum details. xoxoxo. Marina black-seam stocking

P.S. A little excerpt to whet your appetite, my darlings:

“Just as I was putting the cheese platter onto the metal rack of the third shelf down, the door clicked shut behind Sarah, the last of our friends to depart.  I heard Annaliese’s heels clatter up the stairs, then her statuesque body hovering near.  The look on her face evaporated all thoughts of my own questions.  She reached out– her palm covering my own with its warmth.

“Come, Sophie. Let’s talk a bit instead. Hmmm?”  It was not so much a question as a need.  I heeded.

“Sure.”  I said, moving through her grand room, the sandy taupes and the soft burgundy throw pillows giving the feeling at once of soothing reflective crystal and heady, rich heart, then following her past a vase of milky dun color she’d spun herself several years ago. The vase was glazed with a dewy veneer and shaped bulbous and full with a gently fluted mouth, latched to a circular spray of dried baby’s breath and crimson asters that complemented the rest of her interior handiwork.  She patted the chair beside her, and I giggled as I sank deep onto the cushions, our bare thighs brushing whisper close, then fluting an inch apart.

Annaliese cleared her throat softly.  “I’m so glad it was you who stayed tonight,” she said, for the first time running a circular pattern, at once friendly and reassuring while also a demonstration of her worry that was starting to worry me, into the lifeline of my palm.  What could make her otherwise warm brown eyes look so guilty?  “I’ve been dying to tell somebody, and I know you’ll take this in the right way.  It’s funny, you know.  Tonight, some of the others—they noticed.”

She turned to face me, her gaze closer, a minuet of heat across my cheeks, her voice slowing to a caramel murmur.  For the first time all night, the air in the room crackled with intimacy between us.  “Bryan and I are trying this new thing. It’s drawing us so much closer.  I mean, it really does something for our connection.”

The Muse’s Kiss: Update

gerdawegenerGreetings, darlings.  Although it’s been a long time since I’ve posted, I’ve kept my nimble pen caressing the screen these long months apart. I just received an acceptance letter today for a short story that will soon be anthologized in a truly splendid collection of erotica. Just had to share the news. Stay tuned for more details, and enjoy the brand-spankin’-new upgraded look of my blog, darlings. xoxoxoxo, Marina  barbier5