Tag Archives: fantasy

Pleasure Incorporated: Pamela and the Plumber Part One

Pamela and the Plumber

DISCLAIMER: Just a reminder this is first draft stuff. 😀 Enjoy!

Mrs. Murphy handed me the envelope. The package lacked panache. Just a plain white #10, 20lb, standard, letter-sized utilitarian vessel. One would think for a clandestine hookup, it should have been black, or slipped to me under a magazine or something.

“Thanks,” I said, tucking it in my briefcase.

“Enjoy your encounter, Pamela.” Mrs. Murphy stood, her tailored pant suit wrinkled along her thighs from sitting.

I shook her hand and left the office. As I rode the elevator to the lobby, I wondered where Pleasure Incorporated found their ‘personal attendants.’ My criteria was very specific. I wanted a blue collar guy, clean, neat, with a solid bank of muscles, and actual hair on his chest. None of this waxed pecs shit. I wanted a plumber, or at least some guy to play the part of a plumber. Perhaps, it harkened back to my days playing Luigi to my older brother’s Mario, but I had a thing for a descent ass crack. When I was about seven years old, I walked into the kitchen one morning, still in my Hello Kitty pyjamas, to discover my mom leaning against the kitchen counter puffing away on a cigarette.

Our neighbor Thomas O’Malley had his head buried under our sink, his ass presented for all to see. At the time, I didn’t understand what I had walked in on, but I could sense the electricity in the air. In a cut-off tube top and tight jeans, my mom giggled and tossed her hair. Rarely up before noon, she even had on her heels—in the kitchen, at breakfast!

I blame my childhood for my obsession with plumbers and construction workers… frankly, anyone willing to drop to their knees and get dirty.

I hadn’t been able to find a spot right outside the building and had to park in the grocery store lot across the street. I swung into the driver’s seat, tossed my briefcase onto the passenger side, and pulled out the envelope.

I skimmed for the pertinent details: the Gladrock Hotel, Aqua Suite, 7pm. The room was ready immediately, and tomorrow morning a spa appointment had been arranged as requested. Thankfully, there wasn’t any information about my special guest for the evening. I had asked them to withhold a photo. I wanted the surprise. I grew bored easily and needed the excitement and rush of new experiences. I tucked the envelope away. This was going to be fun.

Of Pleasure Inc.’s ability to fulfill my fantasies, I had no doubt. How they planned on going about them created delicious anticipation and tension. I shifted in my leather seat. My body perked up, roused and ready to play.

The Gladrock stood on a prominent crossroads in the city, its front door almost colliding with the sidewalk. The lobby paired a sleek, curved walnut check-in area with oil paintings hung around graffiti inspired walls.

With my arrival expected, I checked in and took the elevator to the fourteenth floor, room key in hand. I’d never stayed in the hotel before. The owners held events every night, and each room had its own theme. Given my plans, I would miss tonight’s Burlesque show, where they teach you how to dance. The concierge assured me it would happen again, and I had made a mental note to pop in to that one in the future.

I swiped my key card and stepped into a groovy world of sculptures meant to look like coral, and soft ripples of light undulating across a deep-blue tiled floor. I dropped the card key on a side table and left my luggage at the door.

Tucked off the left side of the main entrance, a plush white loveseat and two matching arm chairs reclined around an inviting living area. I declined the offer and padded into the bedroom.

A low, sleek king-sized bed with a solid black headboard commanded focus. I flopped onto the bed and sunk, half the mattress cresting away from me. I turned and stared in awe. An honest to God waterbed. I hadn’t seen one of those since I was a teenager. I couldn’t believe they still made them. I studied the design and narrowed my eyes. I couldn’t imagine having sex on the thing. Though, perhaps if the rhythm flowed just right. I enjoyed a good challenge.

Curious what wonders awaited me in the bathroom, I rounded a bend at the far end of the room and stopped, slack jawed. Tucked away behind a curved glass block wall, the bathroom stretched behind towering floor to ceiling windows that looked out on to the bustling cityscape beyond, a sleek white lounge chair positioned to take advantage of the view. On the back wall, a waterfall trickled between ledges of glossy black tile, tumbling into an infinity pool. A built-in alcove housed several sconces, their light flickering like candles. I dipped a forefinger into the pool. The water was luxuriously warm. I couldn’t wait to dive in.

A generous stand up shower encased in glass stood opposite the pool, and a toilet and low vanity curved along the block wall. The room exceeded my wildest expectations. I’d asked for water features. This took the cake.

I stripped off and slipped into the pool. Experimenting with several dials, I adjusting the strength and number of jets before I found a setting that would allow me to swim in one place, like a water treadmill. Eager to burn off some restless energy, I spent a good half hour fighting the current with a strong front crawl then hopped into the shower.

I pulled out a matching black lace thong and bra and paired those with a tight LBD. With more time to kill, and deciding I needed a little sustenance to keep up my stamina, I ordered some room service. By the time I’d finished eating, fixed my hair, and applied my makeup, it was 6:59pm.

The knock at the door sent a thrill through me. I liked my men punctual. I swung the door wide, revealing a tall, broad shouldered pillar of testosterone with golden eyes and a cocky grin. He filled out a pair of blue jeans, the buttons of his shirt undone showing off a chiselled chest, dusted with just the right amount of dark curly hair. Off his hips slung a tool belt, and he packed a very large wrench.

READY FOR PART TWO? Click here to keep reading!

In gratitude,

Marissa xo

Guest Author Wren Michaels!

All right party people in the house, this is getting real! There are only nine more sleeps till AVELYNN’s pub date! EEEEEEEEEeeeeeee! 😀

To celebrate, I’m going to showcase a guest author every day leading up to the 8th. These wonderful people will be at my Facebook launch party, giving away books and prizes; there’s even a $100 gift card up for grabs!

Please give an enthusiastic hello to my first guest: Wren Michaels​

GetAttachment (4)

Here’s a peek at one of her books: VEXED

VEXED cover

Vodou stole her life. A gay ghost stole her boots. And the man who stole her heart stole her memories. Kena plans to get it all back.

VEXED teaser

Ex-cop Kena’s life is filled with regret, beer, and Cheetos. That is, until her ghostly roomie sends her dumpster diving, leading her to a sexy stranger named Luc and a fate she’d rather not remember. As Kena’s memories resurface, so do her feelings for Luc, the man she’s secretly been in love with for the last thousand years. And he needs her for more than a stroll down memory lane.

Vodou spirits, known as Loa, have been trapped in human form, and are trying to make their way back to the spirit world. But Luc’s brother is possessed by a vengeance demon conjured at the hands of NOLA’s crime syndicate kingpin. Saving him means damning herself to a spirit prison in a loveless, arranged union with the very man she’s supposed to rescue. But not helping Luc’s brother sentences him to death, leaving New Orleans in the hands of black magick, and losing Luc forever.

ELUDING ILLUSIONS cover SNOW ROSE SERIES covers

Check out Wren’s Amazon Author Page for information about all her awesome books!

Can’t wait until September 8th! I hope to see you all there as we celebrate the release of AVELYNN!

In gratitude,

Marissa xo

 

In Defence of Fifty Shades and Dragons

 

www.marissacampbell.com
www.marissacampbell.com

According to Box Office Mojo, Fifty Shades of Grey grossed $239,670,000 worldwide during its opening weekend. The book itself has sold over 100,000,000 copies worldwide. There are many who have a hard time understanding this phenomenon, believing it a fluke—chalking it up to the power and momentum of hype and suggestion. For fans and devotees of E.L. James, the appeal is obvious, simple. From the other side of the fence, however, there is nothing simple about it. Most of the negative and hostile reviews are written by people who have not seen the film or read the book, however, many have done both and were horrified by what they read and saw. They interpret the messages in the book as reprehensible: rape, forced seduction, restraint, control, manipulation, abuse. Fans beg to differ.

Years ago, I moved to a new city. I didn’t know anyone and after several months, I became lonely and depressed. I used to walk my son to school every morning, and there was always a group of women standing around and chatting long after the bell had rung. I longed to join them. Then the day arrived when they invited me over. It felt like I had been given a glass of crisp spring water after stumbling through a barren, arid desert. At first, I was a little shy and uncertain, but after several mornings, I began to loosen up, laughing and chatting animatedly, enjoying the friendly camaraderie. That is until I told a joke.

One of the women regaled the group with a joke she had heard. It was cute and witty, and I chuckled along with everyone else. I offered up one of my own, one I had recently heard on a radio station. It was provocative, sexy, and a little dirty (seriously, it was really, really, funny). Except, when I delivered the punchline, I was the only one laughing. I was awarded a few polite smiles, and the conversation was diverted. That was a hard limit. Sex was off the table.

I went home that morning in a daze. I wanted desperately to fit in, and given the strict guidelines of the group, I adjusted my behaviour accordingly. I closed off a really fun, witty, playful side of myself in order to toe the line of respectable conservatism.

A part of me died that day.

Let’s flash forward a few years. I taught yoga, and I co-wrote an inspirational book called Life: Living in Fulfillment Every Day. I blogged about finding balance, about managing expectations, about finding the beauty and joy in our every moment. In my actions and thoughts, I tried to embody peace and serenity. I strove for balance and attempted to reduce stress in my life. There was an image I was expected to project, and at first, I embraced it willingly, but after a few years, I found myself wanting more. I was missing something. Part of me was still shut off. I was still toeing that line.

Let’s catch up with the present. In addition to Life, I’ve now written a historical fiction, Avelynn, which will be released this fall through St. Martin’s Press. It’s sexy, sensual, gritty, powerful, and compelling. I’ve also written a sexy, short story: Italian Delicacy, which is very yummy. Should I have written under a pen name? Hidden this other side of me? After years of tamping down my vivacious half, I coaxed it out of hiding. I offered it flowers and chocolate, begged it to come out to play. In fact, I’ve pushed so hard against the constraints and limitations that once bound me, that I’ve externalized that journey with a tattoo.

Dragons and Oms

Now, what on earth does all this have to do with Fifty Shades of Grey? Like the dragon and the OM. There are two parts of me. One is calm, the other likes to roar. One is peaceful, while one is rebellious and wild. One is mystical, the other one magical. One is powerful, one surrenders. One is dignified, and one is downright naughty. I am a kaleidoscope of colour and nuance. All women embody that brilliant tapestry. We are sexual and conservative. We can be dignified and respectable, nurturing and matronly, but we can also be playful and mischievous, hot and wild.

Women have a rich internal world and a vibrant external one. But too often, we are expected to live outwardly in a completely opposite fashion from who we really are deep down inside. Let me give you another example. Several years ago, I went out with my husband on a date. After months of spit up and diapers, I wanted to dress up—I wanted to feel sexy again. As I was leaving, kissing my children good-bye, my mother-in-law asked me if I was really going to wear that out. She was referring to a lovely blouse that showed off some considerable breastfeeding cleavage. She said this in front of my eldest. At the time, I was too dumbstruck to speak. It wasn’t until later that I explained to my son that I was a mom, but also a woman, and it was okay to be both.

I was done with shutting down that vibrant part of myself. The world needed to accept all of me. Every part, whether that fit into their expectations or solicited their judgments and disapproval. I was tired of being flat and colourless. I needed to be me. E.L. James fans get this. And they want to be given permission to enjoy the movie without condemnation and censure.

In my opinion, the appeal of Fifty Shades of Grey rests on the broad shoulders of female sexual fantasies. The part of us that we don’t always show to the world, the part that ignites a spark of desire and arousal that might not seem politically or socially acceptable—the dragon.

Studies show 30 – 60% of women have rape fantasies. For a couple interesting articles discussing these findings, feel free to investigate here and here.

To fans, the movie and books are not extolling abuse, but rather are condoning women’s fantasies, bringing to the screen a fantasy that upwards of 60% of women find arousing.

Anne Rice defended women’s fantasies in a recent Facebook post: She wrote: “Lecturing women on their fantasies, telling them NOT to like “Fifty Shades” because it includes abuse is just as bad, in my opinion, as telling women that “nice girls” don’t imagine being kissed, loved, touched, ravaged, swept off their feet. “Nice girls” can imagine anything they want.”

For a unique perspective. Huffington Post recently broke down another study by a team of researchers from the University of North Texas and the University of Notre Dame.

According to the article, there are two schools of thought as to why so many women get aroused by behaviour that the detractors of Fifty Shades of Grey consider deplorable. One is the ‘sexual blame avoidance’ theory, the other, newer, more enlightened theory is an ‘openness to sexual experience.’

The sexual blame avoidance theory proposes that women fantasize about being controlled and forced into having sex because they are unable to own their sexuality and instead worry about how society will perceive them. Being forced into and ultimately enjoying sex because of their submission removes personal responsibility—they couldn’t help themselves, it wasn’t their fault.

The women who fell under the new classification, described themselves as being open to sexual experience and didn’t feel a need to hide or repress their sexuality. They had high self-esteem and while enjoying the idea of being forced into sexual situations similar to what is depicted in Fifty Shades of Grey, they were also just as likely to fantasize about overpowering and forcing a man to surrender sexually against his will.

In Defence of Fifty Shades and Dragons

Fantasies are a natural and very normal part of our sexual lives, for both men and women, and we do ourselves a great disservice when we disavow that part of ourselves. A part of me died the day I hid the sexual, fun, flirty side of my personality. Rather than tamping down the gains we’ve made as women to express ourselves, (thank you, Madonna) to own our sexuality, to admit freely that we enjoy and think about sex as much as men do, we need to embrace all aspects of who we are. We are a dichotomy, and one aspect is not better than the other, we are both, we are all. We can stand against all forms of violence and abuse, whether it be against women, men, children or animals. We can fight injustice and ignorance. But we can also have a rich and varied fantasy life. We can be both the dragon and the OM.

In gratitude,

Marissa xo