Tuesday, February 9, 2010

A lovely turn of phrase or simply pretty words without a story?

Only a weak man and a woman who has never had to rely on another for her livelihood are able to find contemptible a woman who seeks to better her lot by marrying well.

This seems the sort of thing my grandmother would say, only I can’t remember her saying it and I don’t feel I have the right to it, but it’s with me so I aught to do something with it.

There is a practical widow in my first novel Ellesmere that I feel is well suited to these words, only I don’t know if she is the sort to give into the folly of love after burying two husbands. Besides, she has three little girls and a teenaged sister she must launch into society.

Maybe, I’ll have a man say it. Only what sort of creature would he be, to have such a statement assigned to him besides, progressive and quite possibly, my absolute favourite person in the world?

I like the idea that a man would be the one to say these words. It even has a base in my line of consciousness for it makes me think of a Sydney Pollack film or that hybrid fellow George Clooney made of the good men in his Goodnight and Good Luck.

You know, the sort of male to whom I’m referring... Someone reminiscent of Robert Redford in Three Days of the Condor. A man who is well aware of his role and the weight of words. I’ll make a genuine attempt now to cast the parts and see if I can’t flush out a story worthy of these words.

I hope you're having a lovely week,
Simone

Monday, February 8, 2010

Please bear with me and my rash of good fortune

Another award from the Charming Corra, this time the Lovely Blog award. Corra is truly a supportive fellow writer and you will simply love her delightful blog so do follow the link. You'll be better for having done so. Thank you ever so much Corra my dear, it mean a lot that you think my blog lovely.


According to the rules posted at her site, I'm to pass on the award to five blogs that have newly caught my interest.

Here now are my Five, each truly lovely and worthy of awe.

MegNorth

ThirtySomethingStyle
A lovely week to all,
Simone

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Lady Thatcher, One More of the 100 Women that Inspire Me

For though she had her failings HOLDING her ground was not one of the.

Margaret Hilda Thatcher, Baroness Thatcher, because despite our often conflicting political views she was instramental in my development as young citizen of the world. She had an iron-will which made it essential for all females following in her wake to apply thought to the value of their vote.

She was born 13 October 1925, married once in 1951 to a man she counted as friend and brilliant husband until his death in June 2003. She is mother to two and though one get the feeling she is held to a degree in contempt by her daughter Carol she seems no more unnatural a mother then most.


Here in interview with Douglas Keay from Woman's Own Magazine in 1987 Prime Minister Thatcher said this.
"If children have a problem, it is society that is at fault. There is no such thing as society. There is living tapestry of men and women and people and the beauty of that tapestry and the quality of our lives will depend upon how much each of us is prepared to take responsibility for ourselves and each of us prepared to turn round and help by our own efforts those who are unfortunate. And the worst things we have in life, in my view, are where children who are a great privilege and a trust—they are the fundamental great trust, but they do not ask to come into the world, we bring them into the world, they are a miracle, there is nothing like the miracle of life—we have these little innocents and the worst crime in life is when those children, who would naturally have the right to look to their parents for help, for comfort, not only just for the food and shelter but for the time, for the understanding, turn round and not only is that help not forthcoming, but they get either neglect or worse than that, cruelty."

Thatcher's tenure as Prime Minister was the longest since that of Lord Salisbury and the longest continuous period in office since Lord Liverpool in the early 19th century. She was the first woman to lead a major political party in the United Kingdom, and the first of only three women to hold any of the four great offices of state. She holds a life peerage as Baroness Thatcher, of Kesteven in the County of Lincolnshire, which entitles her to sit in the House of Lords.
My love, my care,
Simone

Saturday, February 6, 2010

The Birth of England's Romantic Regency

The Prince of Wales became England's Prince Regent on 5 th January 1811 but was not sworn in by the Privy Council until February 6. 1811. As the eldest son of King George III, George IV the then Prince of Wales acted as Regent between 1811 and 1820 due to his father's insanity. An extravagant and dissolute man, the Prince Regent was also one of the greatest royal collectors and patrons of art and architecture.
John Singleton Copley

Our fat little Regent playing at what I can only assume is defender of the land and conqueror of France. Here is some of him in his own words.

"I have done extravagant things and I'm not ashamed of it; but I've always had my principles, and my principles have always been the same – gallant to every woman, but faithful to one!"

Prince George, as reported by Princess Dorothea Lieven, wife of the Russian ambassador to Britain. What a romantic thing it would have been if the woman was his long-suffering albeit unhygienic wife.

Painted here by Sir Thomas Lawrence
I have a soft spot for the Regent in the way one does for a rotten nephew or a silly cousin.

"He cried by the hour … he testified to the sincerity and violence of his passion and his despair by the most extravagant expressions and actions, rolling on the floor, striking his forehead, tearing his hair, falling into hysterics and swearing that he would abandon the country, forego the crown, sell his jewels and plate and scrape together a competence to fly with the object of his affections to America."

This from Lord Holland, Memoirs of the Whig Party, commenting on the prince's histrionic technique for wooing the Catholic widow Maria Fitzherbert, c 1785. They were secretly married on 21 December 1785, but the marriage was void according to the Royal Marriage Act.

Another by Lawrence

No one could accuse the silly little thing of being without passion, spite or of having very good judgment.

"[Maria Fitzherbert] the wife of my heart & soul etc etc … I wish to be buried with her picture round my neck, and so on … from my beloved parents, I ask forgiveness for any faults I may have ignorantly or unguardedly been guilty of … she who is called the Princess of Wales, the mother of my daughter, should in no way be concerned in the education or care of the child, or have possession of her person … to my daughter I leave my jewels, which are mine having been bought with my own money – and to her who is called the princess of Wales I leave one shilling …"
Prince George's 'will', written on 9 January 1796, two days after his wife gave birth to their daughter Charlotte.

And here by Sir David Wilkie

He was concerned by all the wrong things and was often unable to make up his mind but he was genuinely made ill with worry at the thought of being an inadequate Regent. I sympathize with the cross he had to bear but I do wish he had done some for those living in object poverty.

And again by Lawrence

Still, he would be king and for all is fault he did give us his Pavillion and the decadence that cultivated one the greatest romantic age. Under is frivolous reign Byron, Shelley, Austen, Blake, Turner, Scott, Nash, Keat, Brougham, Wordsworth, Coleridge and a hundred more brilliant artist prospered. For that he'll forever have my gratitude.

A lovely weekend to all,
Simone

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

RAVENSWORTH Vof VI

Chapter One, Two, Three and Four my thanks to each of you for your continued support.

Louis-Jean-Francois Lagrenee's 'Mars and Venus an Allegory of Peace'

Chapter Five

His survey of her was far more exploratory and sensual.

He held her in an impassioned gaze that melted the sensible amber of her eyes to golden honey and pulled colour from her cheeks. Then he, with strong warm hands, took hold of her face, touching her unhurriedly, deliberate dragging his thumbs over her fair brows and plush coral lips.

Jaclyn’s skin burned with awareness, her lips sizzled with want where he touched and she licked at them in a futile attempt to stop the burn.

She was unable to breathe with him so close, looking at her as if she were water and he on fire. It had been there in his eyes this palpable yearning that gave her the impression that he was an inferno and it was all she could do not to toss herself as a willing sacrifice on his flame.

She was consumed by the heat of his touch and the erotic spice of his skin, an intoxicating mix of sharp musky clove, bruised rosemary and something else that was unique to him alone.

He was waiting for something, a sign from her and then she, in a sort of bated hush, said, “Eli.”

It was both question and plea – that seemed to say ‘what are you doing to me’ and ‘please, please don’t stop until you’ve put out this flame you’ve lit.’ It was precisely what he had been waiting for.

Eli could see she had wanted him as much as he wanted her but he did not want to proceed until she acknowledged it.

The instant she did, he kissed her and all else fell away, they were held suspended, synchronized, bound. They were at once fuel and flame, the heat and the burn, both set ablaze from the sweet friction of hot lips brushed against each other.

He was masterful connoisseur to her starving glut and he provided for her a feast unlike any she had ever partaken of before

They were wrapped tight in each other’s arms in an unbroken embrace, their hot ravenous lips and wet probing tongues, licking, sucking and feeding the other’s desire. When the intensity of the kiss threatened to turn in to something more Eli tried breaking the embrace only to discover she was not so willing.

He tried to coax her down with tiny kisses and gasping plea along the lines of: We should stop now, we could be discovered, take heart and have mercy, I can’t stand much more, but it was to no avail. She was undeterred and the truth was that he was only half committed to dissuading her.

He had wanted her too damn long to now pretend otherwise and when she offered those plush coral lips, her expression like that of a devout at the altar he took hungrily. His entire body an open nerve susceptible to her every touch… that and her growing demand was wreaking havoc on his control.

His body was tense and her malleable body pressed against his was as a blade to tightly drawn cords – violently severed, pulled to extreme and left open to her whims. They were enveloped in each other’s arms with their lips moulded together in one of those slow, purposefully arousing kisses that preceded things that no maiden, no matter how fallen or how close to her wedding day she was, should engage in.

She there, stretched along the length of his body, his right hand firmly on her bottom while grinding into her through the unyielding confines of their clothes. She discovered the pleasures to be had from the friction produced when rubbed against his erection and she writhed against him with wanton delight until he groaned into her mouth.

They’d have to stop.

Jaclyn knew this but was not interested in anything that would lead to Eli taking is hands and lips from her body so it was left to him. He mustered strength then lifted his lips from hers and waited a moment for her to regain focus then said, “We marry in the morning.”

“Yes, I know,” she said with a predatory grin and pressed her groin to his.

Eli took a sharp breath then said, “Jaclyn that was not said to feed your want but to encourage your restraint.”

Undeterred Jaclyn with hot lips over his face and her hands under his jacket said, “You’ve set me aflame Eli and I’ll surely die by the morning if you don’t help me extinguish it.”

“Stop that,” Eli pled as she dragged her nails over waistcoat, linen shirt and the muscular planes of his back. “That door is not locked and –”

“Is that all it would take?” she purred against his ears, “Me locking the door?”

“Have mercy on me sweetheart,” Eli begged, “I’m not able to bear much more.”

“Much more of what?” she asked innocently and dug her nails into his back.

“You play nice or –”

“Or what? You’ve already set me on fire and threatened to leave me burning until tomorrow,” she said miserably, and pulled her hands from his back, to his taut derriere and laid into him.

“You’re being unreasonable.”

“And you’re being cruel,” she shot back, her face suddenly very sad then she said. “Unless I’ve not affected you in the way you have done for me.”

“Oh, don’t you worry, sweetheart. I’m in just about as much agony as one can bear.”

“Then why don’t you…”

“Because what my body wants from yours will take time,” he said with gentle hand on her face but she would not be discouraged.

“How much time?”

“More time than we can stay locked up here without your father calling for pistols.”

“Come then and I shall steal you away to my chambers through the secret corridors,” she said her voice a hum as she press her lips against his ear, her greedy little hands roaming over the length of his back from bottom to sensitive scalp.

“Jaclyn?”

“Hmm,” was all she could manage for she was nibbling compliance from the tender flesh of his earlobes and suddenly he could not remember why he was protesting so much... She wanted him, he was beyond aroused and his poor little heart was beating a rapid tattoo against his chest in a futile attempt at regulating the flow of his desire.

She was relentless and he acquiesced.

“Here,” murmured Eli, his deep blue eyes aflame his hand on both side her face, “Tell me are you able to stop tormenting me long enough to see us to your bed?”

Jaclyn smiled triumphantly reached up pressed her lips to his then said, “Only just.”

She then stepped backwards pulling him as she went towards the fireplace and push with her hip the panel to the right and revealing a hidden passage. She walked into the darkness saying over her shoulder as she went, “Stay close for we will have to make it there in the dark.”

They hurried forward in a sort of anticipatory silence and emerged a few moments later in her dressing room where she, the night before, had tended his injury. She went ahead of him to her bedchamber kicking off her slippers and pulling out her hairpins en route to bolting the door leading from her chambers to the hallway.

She turned then, her face framed by golden tresses, her bosom rising under the weight of her want and he approached purposefully pulling off his jacket and waistcoat as he went. The frenzied urgency from before now replaced by something they brought with them from the cool darkness of the secret passage.

It was deliberate, charged and sexual. They were engaged now in a different sort of game, something where the anticipation – the holding back was as intense as the touch. He held just out her reach and undid his neck-cloth daring her to follow suit.

Jaclyn lifted a provocative brow, reached behind her back and tugged at the fasteners until her frock came undone then she leisurely pulled it down the length of her body to reveal a silky full-length shift. Eli breath caught as he absorbed the delight of a most powerful ocular orgasm.

He had never seen anything like it in all his life. It was the perfect marriage of garment and the female form.

The bleeding thing seemed to be created for the sole purpose of driving him out his mind. It was made out of a fabric that could only be described as whisper thin, spun gold. It clung to her at breast, hip and left nothing to the imagination. She was laughing at him.

“I take it you like Tessa’s invention,” Jaclyn said with a seductive hand over fabric and breast.

Eli took an involuntary step forward, she took a deliberate one backward and the wicked slip rippled over her feminine curves. It essentially melted Eli’s brain as he tried to decide whether he wanted to strip it from her body and bury his want in her flesh or to have her walk the length of the room so he could observe it and her from every angel.

“It’s skin soft,” Jaclyn offered as she dragged her hands lower. “Would you like to touch it?”
She had an expression on her face that said, ‘Look I’ve beat you at your own game…’ And he smiled back for he knew she would soon see her error then he said, “You, my dear, are an apt student but I can’t help but feel that I ought to caution you against arrogance.”

“Is that a no to fondling of the garment then?” she continued this time grabbing a handful of the slip so she could tug it up to expose her stockinged leg.

Eli chuckled, leaned against her bed and yanked off his boot his voice a raspy rumble saying, “No, no… come, let’s have a feel.”

His voice was layered with his intent and she shivered as she went forwards with wobbly knees. Then she was in his arms and everything after that was an excruciatingly persistent burn. Him peeling off the slip to feed on her body fondling her breasts full, ample and greedy for his touch, sucking at her nipples until they were engorged and tender.

She was made molten by his increasingly intimate exploration.

He lifted her onto the bed, peeling off her stockings licking and nibbling as he went, reducing her to nothing but an inarticulate hedonist. Her legs spread around his shoulders as he wickedly freed her of inhibitions with his lascivious tongue labouring between her thighs.

All she had been was no more. She was pillaged by pleasure, by this masterful god of sex and resurrected as a primal lustful creature good only for his touch. Her lungs were on fire as it rushed to keep up with the beating of her heart and the quickening of her flesh.

As he relentlessly lavished orgasm-inducing kisses to the little bud at the centre of her flower and she raised her hips as the pressure built to frenzy. Soon she was engulfed by a sort of madness that made her tug at his hair and dig her heels into his back and still he kept his slow methodically torturous pace.

Then she, her body pulled tight, all her focus on that spot just inside her where his tongue transformed new awareness into rapturous delight, was turned inside out. She spilt over raw and carnal her body drenched in sweat.

Eli held her until she regained equilibrium kissing her gently his mouth tasting of her his large warm hands soothing away the spasms and coaxing in her a new tension. His eyes dark with his own want was focussed on her face searching for sign she was ready and she with passion anew said, “Let me look at you Eli, so you may know your body the way you now know mine.”

He ripped off what remained of his clothes and Jaclyn traveled the length of his beautiful unyielding body with ravenous eye and hands pushing him backwards into the down of her pillows so she could do to him some of the things he had done to her.

Feasting upon his divine flesh, licking sharp rasping breaths from his nipples as his hard muscular chest jumping involuntary under her administration. Then licked lower over his rippling abdomen dipping her tongue in his navel causing him to growl.

It made her feel powerful to be able to bring this rumoured prince of pleasure to his knees and when she licked at his masculinity resting proudly against his belly she just about growl herself.

He gasped and thrust his hips upward, encouraging Jaclyn to explore further. She gripped his base, licking more vigorously at his hard, hot oh so silky against her tongue until he roared up and flipped her over onto her back. His voice ragged, as he said, “No more. I have to be inside you. Tell me you’re ready and can wait no more.”

“Come to me,” she said her voice every bit as crazed as his and he kissed her passionately.

Eli took her by inches, terrified that should he move too swiftly he would fall to pieces but she was so soft and so incredibly tight he could hardly stand it. Then he was at the barrier that made it impossible to continue without force and he felt her brace as he nudged against it.

She gasped, her lips at his ear, her words an ache as she pleaded with him to end her misery.

“Now Eli, please I can’t bear it.”

Her legs wrapped around his thighs and her arms anchored around hips pulling him forward until he was buried completely in her hot yielding body. Jaclyn’s breath caught at the pain, he held still his body shaking with want, dripping in sweat, and then she relaxed some around him.

Not enough – he was certain – for him to move forward but he could wait no longer and she was so soft and sweet. He pulled out some to thrust forth and she in something like panic rose up to his retreat then he gladly pressed her back into the bed. She sighed and then there was but surrender as they gave into the ebb and flow.

Their bodies, friction, force, thrust and increased momentum. Him, moulding her so she was good to no one else but him and she marking him as her own with nails that punctured the skin of his shoulder. Pain coils itself around pleasure until the two were indistinguishable.

Laboured breaths, muscle spasms, wet, welcoming to his hard mastery as he pushed her to the edge where she teeter until he reached down between them where he laboured and rubbed the nub that contained euphoria. Then she fell, hitting hard against whatever it was that was building insider her.

Her body shook violently from the impact as he plunged to his own end his body strained his bones melting and then he spilt his essence deep inside her. Jaclyn was weary and content, her eyes heavy with sleep as Eli bushed his lips over her face with whispered tender endearments.

What is it they say about Wednesday?
All my love,
Simone

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Unrequited Love, a Many Sordid Thing

.

None of the love songs apply to this strange love affaire. The lovelorn has yet to accept that the one she loves will not grow to love her in time. She stupidly wears her hair with the hope it will please this illusive stranger.

Her reflection becomes the center of her universe and like love ideal, it is her first thought of the day, her only genuine desire, her last prayer before she close her eyes.

She has denied herself chocolate and has long given up her smile.

Reducing her humanity to the gratuity, she has figured in to the cost of making herself presentable. A few extra dollars for the efficient women who remove unwanted hair, colour away natural roots, polish nails and rub tension from her body.

All with the hope of pleasing the one person who will never truly take pleasure in her and soon she hates as much as loves that imperfect unblinking stranger staring back from her mirror with something like sympathetic contempt in her eyes.

My love, my care,
Simone

Monday, February 1, 2010

More delicious than a Grammy Award

I was given the Happy 101 Award by the lovely Dawn, Claudia and Victoria. Thank you so very much ladies. You each have my gratitude and I encourage you all to stop by their charming blogs. They are all talented in their own right and I guarantee you’ll be glad you followed the link.

Claudia


Victoria


Here the rules for passing on this precious award :
1. Copy and paste the award on your blog.
2. List who gave the award to you and use a link to her blog (or hyperlink).
3. List 10 things that make you happy.
4. Pass the award on to other bloggers and visit their blogs to let them know!

Here now are the ten of the things that make me happy:


A comfortable silence with the one I hold dear, a compassionate thing done, talking until the sun rises, my sisters, MUSIC,getting caught in a summer downpour, tomatoes from my backyard, flowers, an expert massage from someone with strong warm hands and a good night’s sleep.

TravelingTasteBuds