Tag Archives: Romance

All About the Journey

Writing is a fascinating process. You start off in one direction, wander down multiple pathways, back track, take the fork in the road, retrace your steps, follow the bend, stare at dead ends, turn back, and try again. So many tangents, so many broken lines… only to end up at the right spot, eventually.

#AllAboutTheJourney #WritersLife #HotInAruba #Word

Gateway to Macha
In gratitude,
Marissa xo

Cover & Title Reveal for Avelynn2

IT’S CONTEST TIME!

Are you guys ready for your first sneak peek at a TINY section of the cover for Avelynn2? 😀 I played this game last time with Avelynn…

For the next 10 days over in the Facebook Event’s Page (see link below for details), I’m going to post a photo with a word hidden somewhere in the image. Collect all 10 words and then PM me your list or email to info@marissacampbell.com to qualify for the draw for a FREE eBook of Avelynn2! Good luck. 😀 xo

For all the party details, pop into the Facebook Event! There will be ten days of contests, fun, and shenanigans all leading up to the official reveal of the title and cover for Avelynn2!

Here’s the first contest image, to whet your appetite for more. 😀

A2 CR Day One

In gratitude,

Marissa xo

Babes Shop Brock

I was fortunate enough to visit Blue Heron Books in Uxbridge, Ontario this past Thursday, June 23rd for their annual event Babes Shop Brock. What a hoot that was! I signed copies with my amazing Viking guests and chatted with all the wonderful shoppers strolling along Brock St. If you haven’t had a chance to check out this quaint bookseller (voted number #1 Independent Bookseller in Canada) you’re missing out! Tell them Marissa sent you. 😀

Here’s some photos from the event.

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And always,  don’t forget to support your local independent booksellers!

Support Indie Booksellers3

In gratitude,

Marissa xo

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

Pleasure Incorporated: Stephanie and Stephen The Climax

Week One: Stephanie and Stephen

DISCLAIMER: Just a reminder this is first draft material. Don’t forget to read parts one and two before you delve into the delicious climax. Enjoy the ride. 🙂

The satin duvet was soft and cool beneath me.

“Lift your arms above your head.”

I grabbed hold of the iron headboard. He kissed my shoulder, planting nips and caresses down my arm. Holding my gaze, he slid the handcuff around my wrist. “Ready?”

“Yes.” I had no idea what to expect this evening. Of course, I knew it would involve sex, but this was beyond my wildest imaginings. I couldn’t keep my legs from writhing a little on the bed. My stomach ached with need.

The arm swung closed and clicked. He tightened the metal until it was comfortable, but gave no measure of escape. He slipped the chain around the headboard and clasped my other wrist. The final click shot fire through my body. I inhaled sharply.

He ran his hands along the sides of my body. My eyes rolled back. “Jesus.”

His whispered words near my ear startled me. “It’s Stephen.”

I smirked. “Stephen.”

His cocky grin turned me to putty. “I like how you say that.” He nibbled my ear then reached back and scooped the blindfold off the bed. “One last detail.” The satin string trailed up my belly and between my breasts as he danced it across my skin.

My fists clenched as he lay the blindfold across my eyes.

“Can you see?” he asked, adjusting the tightness of the ties.

“No.”

“Good.” His weight lifted from the bed.

I could hear him rummaging through drawers. Every sense was heightened. The smoothness of the duvet skimmed across my body as I wriggled to try and hear what he was doing. The air from the ceiling fans washed over my skin creating goosebumps, and every cell of my being had been reduced to a quivering mass of need.

“I’m here.” His voice drifted from somewhere near the end of the bed. I jumped when something cold pressed into the sole of my foot.

“That’s freezing.” I squirmed away from the onslaught creeping up my leg.

The advance never wavered, and a hand pinioned my leg. The melting path swooped up the inside of my thigh and curved over the soft mound of hair between my legs.

“You’re so hot, you melted my ice cube.” His voice was sullen, sexy.

My body collapsed after being held rigid by tension.

“Ah, but I have more.” A swirl of ice across my nipple sent the bud into a spasm of constriction, and I bucked to set it free. He straddled my waist. “Oh, no. You’re not getting away that easily.” He ran the ice cube down the sides of my ribs, and I screamed. The dripping water trickled around my back, and the shock against my blazing skin was torture.

“You are delightfully ticklish.” Blunt fingernails picked up where the ice left off, skimming the indent of my waist. I tried to kick him off.

“Do you want me to stop?” He sounded amused.

“No,” I replied with undignified panting.

His weight shifted and something soft with several tails swept over me. “This is a called a bondage whip.”

“Stephen.” This was quickly going in a direction I wasn’t ready to take it.

“I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

I couldn’t see him, couldn’t read the sincerity in his face, but I sensed it in his voice.

“Open your hand for me.”

It took a concerted effort to loosen my grip, but I did as he asked.

“I’m going to use the whip across your palm. Let me know if it hurts.”

Before I could protest, the whip snapped into my skin. I gasped, and wetness pooled between my legs.

“Did it hurt?”

“No.”

“I’m going to tease your thighs. Are you ready?”

“Oh fuck.” I resumed my death grip on the headboard.

A slap crackled through the air, heightening my senses, but the impact was delicious. No pain, just skin becoming more alive.

“Good?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Wonderful.”

A series of nips with the whip across my belly and breasts alternated with what felt like feathers. Throughout it all, as each and every inch of my skin screamed with sensation, he avoided the fire burning between my legs.

“Stephen.” I begged. “Please. I can’t take much more.”

“Oh, I think you can hold out a little longer, but I’ll reward you for your good behaviour.” Hands splayed my thighs, and his mouth pressed against me.

“You’re so fucking wet. Jesus, you taste divine.” If he was going for subtle, he seemed to lose himself in his task, and he had to hold my hips down because they were going to jerk right off the bed.

“Oh, my God.” I wanted to explode. I barely grasped reality.

“I know, baby, you’re so close. But not yet.” He left the bed, and I could hear another drawer open. Sweat pooled between my breasts, and my hair matted against my forehead. Something wild and primal had taken over, and I wanted to lose myself in its delicious chaos.

“Have you ever played with your G-spot?” he asked.

“I’ve tried, but I’m never sure if I’m doing it right.” This was humiliating.

“I love that blush.” He kissed my lips, and I devoured the silken warmth of him, my tongue lashing out to meet his. I tasted salt and sweetness. I tasted me. I’d never done that before. The thought made me heady.

He pulled away. “You are making this incredibly difficult to go slow.”

“I don’t want slow.” There. I did it. I had been reduced to whining.

He laughed. “After this orgasm, we can ramp up the pace, but this first one has to be perfect. I want you to be putty in my hands.”

More orgasms? Dear God, I wasn’t sure I was going to make it through this one! I wanted him so badly, I would have done just about anything to quench this suffocating thirst.

“Have you used a vibrator before?” A gentle hum filled my ears.

“Yes.” If he used a vibrator on me, I might literally come undone.

“Good.” He released one of my wrists, but clamped the open jaws around the headboard to keep one hand restrained. He placed the vibrator in my free hand and directed it to my clit. “I want you to hold it there. No matter what you do, do not ease up the tension. Understand?”

I couldn’t speak. I nodded.

“It may feel overwhelming, but don’t stop. Ride it out for me, all right?”

“I’ll try.” It came out as hoarse croak.

His lips caressed mine, and he held my hand against my clit as the vibrator thrummed through me. I didn’t think it was possible for my eyes to roll back any further in my head, but I might have managed.

He slid down my body, and a finger dove deep inside me. I cried out, my back arching.
His movements were slow, deliberate. He was pressing hard against my insides. My body hummed. “Hold on, Stephanie.”

“It’s too much.” I couldn’t take it. There was so much sensation.

His finger coaxed with even pressure and relentless rhythm. The vibrator slipped from my clit. He reached up and helped me find the right spot. “Right there, baby. Keep it there.”

“I can’t.” I wanted to die. I wanted to dissolve. My legs shook and spasmed.

“Yes, you can.”

Pressure made my head want to burst. Everything in my being wanted to let go, but I held back. Fear crept in and reared its ugly head.

“It’s just me, Stephanie. Let yourself go. Give in to the feeling.”

I closed my eyes tight and pushed all thought from my mind. I focused on everything my body was telling me. It wanted this. I forced my mind to take a backseat to the wild rollercoaster ride of pleasure. The climax built. My toes curled and tensed. “Stephen.”

“Now. Come for me, now, Stephanie.”

“Oh my God.” A wave of pleasure ripped through me so violently that I screamed and bucked. My eyes clamped tight, and the vibrator slipped from my hand. His mouth crashed into swollen lips and another crest blindsided me, propelling me over a precipice so high I didn’t think I could ever come down. For a moment, he merely caressed my hair.

He removed the blindfold as tremors continued to pulse through me and left the bed, returning a moment later to unclasp my hand. The handcuff slipped from my wrist and I lay there limp, shaking and incoherent. “Stephanie,” he whispered in my ear.

“Mmmhmm?” I was wrapped in a warm honey glow that I never wanted to end.

“Are you ready to do that again?”

I reached out, threaded my hand through his hair, and pulled him into me. “Definitely.”

In gratitude,

Marissa xo

Pleasure Incorporated: Stephanie and Stephen Part One

Week One: Stephanie and Stephen

Because the first story is so long, I decided to break it up into two bits. Here then is part one. You’ll have to wait until next week for the climax (lol, see what I did there).

DISCLAIMER: Remember this is a first draft, hot-off-the-press, unedited version. Enjoy the ride.

“Good afternoon, Stephanie. Is it all right that I call you that? Thank you for coming.”

“Stephanie is fine.” I fidgeted in my chair and smoothed down my skirt for the millionth time. Mrs. Murphy looked respectable in Dolce and Gabbana, dark-framed glasses and a tailored pant suit, her long brunette hair pulled back in a bun. Why on earth was I here?

“Try not to be nervous,” she said.

“I’m sorry. I’ve just never done anything like this before.”

She clasped her hands over the manila file folder with my name written on it. “We are a service of firsts.” Her smile was warm.

The space resembled any other commercial building: lots of glass and greys. Mrs. Murphy’s office looked out over the city, revealing people as specks of dust and trucks as dinky cars. I glanced at a door off to the left and behind her desk. Was that where everything happened?

“We have a private location for our encounters.”

Her uncanny ability to read my mind caused sweat to drip between my breasts.

“I thought you’d like to know, I’ve assigned one of our finest personal attendants to oversee your experience with us.”

“Oh.” I couldn’t manage more than that.

“Would you like to see his picture?”

That piqued my interest. I didn’t know if I’d get to find out anything about him before our… well, our date. I grimaced. Date sounded innocent. This was anything but. I’d come to Pleasure Incorporated for very non innocent longings. It was a secret club of sorts. They didn’t advertise, and only referrals from previous clientele earned you an interview with Mrs. Murphy. My girlfriend Amy was the one who told me about them. I couldn’t believe she’d done something like this. Now, I couldn’t believe I was considering doing something like this. Hell, I’d already committed to it, signed the confidentiality contract and everything. Paid the fees in full.

I leaned forward in the chair as she slid an 8×10 glossy my way. I turned it over and whistled. He was beautiful—strong jaw, dimples, shoulder-length dark brown hair, warm eyes, and the body of an Adonis. I swallowed and handed back the photo. I left clammy finger prints on the edges of the film.

She placed a standard white letter envelope on the desk. “Inside is the private location for your meeting tonight. You will need the card key to enter the building and your room. You are to meet Stephen in the lobby at 5:00pm. On your questionnaire, you mentioned wine would be a welcome addition. You will enjoy a quiet dinner together first, get to know one another a little bit. The conversation will help to put you at ease and open you up to the events of the evening. All the details are outlined in the enclosed letter.”

I dropped my head in my hands.

“There is no need to be embarrassed. Stephen has been briefed and is more than qualified to meet your needs.”

I groaned.

Her chair rolled back. I looked up to find her standing, hand outstretched. I followed suit.

Her handshake was firm. “It’s our policy to ensure all aspects of your fantasy are met with the utmost respect and professionalism. But I can assure you. You will enjoy yourself tremendously. Stephen will take good care of you.”

My grip on the envelope caused the paper to roll over the firm plastic card inside. I stared at the flashing numbers as the elevator descended. I couldn’t believe I was about to do this. I should kill Amy for suggesting this. My biggest sexual woe was that I’d never had an orgasm with another person. It’s not like it was the end of the world. I’m sure I would have had one eventually. Perhaps when I met the right guy and felt comfortable in his arms. Amy thought my ‘problem’ was sexual heresy and that I needed a ‘good, hard’ reckoning. This insane situation was her solution.

I passed a lobby full of people going on about their day, flustered that at any moment one of them would look at me and know what I was about to do. Do they even know what the company on the thirty-third floor did? P. Incorporated was all it said on the huge information board behind the security desk. I shuffled down the sidewalk and ducked inside my car. The meter was flashing, but there was no ticket. Thank God. How would I explain that one?

I opened the envelope and pulled out the card. I scooted forward and tucked it in my back jean’s pocket. I unfolded the letter and scanned the pertinent details. My room was ready immediately, and the Pleasure Motel was located an hour northeast from downtown. The letterhead called the place the Country House, but the sleazy label wrapped itself around my mind and held on. I programmed the address into my GPS and headed toward the highway. I’d packed my bag yesterday but brought way too much stuff. What on earth does one bring or wear to a sexual escapade? I suspected other than making sure my breath was minty fresh with toothpaste, there was very little I’d use in my overnight bag. I’d bought some sexy lingerie, but the more I dwelled on it, the more ridiculous the purchase seemed. Would he just throw me down? Would he rip off all my clothes? I wiped a hand across my face. This was such a bad idea. I picked up my phone and dialed into the Bluetooth.

“Hello?” Amy’s voice echoed on the other end. She must be driving too.

“This is such a bad idea,” I said.

“Nonsense. This is a step forward for all women kind. You can’t have your girl bits all shrivelled and lifeless like that. She needs to be set free and soar.”

“It’s not an eagle, for fuck’s sake; it’s a pussy, and cats can’t fly.” I took the off ramp and veered north.

“Only because your canary hasn’t learned to sing.”

I snorted. “This is the most ridiculous conversation I’ve ever had with you. And that’s saying a lot.”

“Steph. Trust me. By tomorrow morning, your world outlook will have changed. You won’t be the girl afraid you’ll never come. You’ll know it can happen, and you’ll revel in the feeling and the experience. Who have they hooked you up with?”

I didn’t bother pointing out how tawdry ‘hooked up’ sounded. “His name is Stephen. Looks like a Greek god.”

“I had a guy named Paul. Blond and tall as fuck.”

Amy had her encounter last year. I only learned about it a few months ago. As her best friend, I gave her a serious brow beating for the secrecy. She redeemed herself (according to her) by talking me into trying an experience myself.

The company only took on one client a week, which didn’t make any sense to me. If the demand was there, why delay? I’d had to wait over two months before I received my appointment. As much as I wanted to know the reason behind the wait, I didn’t ask. The less I knew about this organization the better. I wasn’t even sure it was legal.

I shuddered and pushed the thought from my mind. As soon as I made the clandestine call to the agency, I was sent lots of paper work to fill out, including a manifesto of past sexual experiences and health history. The company’s mission statement and policies were well laid out in the welcome package, including the rigorous screening and medical standards mandated for their personal attendants. At least I could be confident Stephen was clean.

“I have no idea how I let you talk me into this.” I still had a long drive ahead of me, but the green spaces were opening up now, and the concrete jungle was slowly giving way to real trees.

“Because you’re repressed and you need a good lay.”

“True.”

“Do you have all your condoms?” she asked.

“Yes, Mom, though Mrs. Murphy said they take care of all that.”

“Yeah, she told me that too. I still brought some just in case.”

“Some?” I laughed.

“I had twenty-four hours. I planned on using as many as I could before the clock ran out.”

I heard Amy’s car ding, and she switched to her handheld. “I have to go, babe, but seriously, you need this. Try to let go of the crap in your past. Not all guys are demons.”

“I know.”

“Good. Then go out there tonight and have some fun. Leave stuffy, overthinking Steph in the city. Let the wild child out. You know, the one that goes out drinking and dancing with me. Bring her to the party. Let her loose on Stephen and leave nail marks on the guy’s back.”

I laughed. “I’ll do my best.”

“Atta girl. Have fun, sweetie. Love ya.”

“Love you too, girl.”

She rung off, and my speakers clicked back onto the radio. I turned up the volume and sang, blocking out my objections and doubts. I didn’t let them out of the bag again until I pulled up the long, winding drive that stopped in front of a colonial mansion. Columns, shutters, and trim in white and plaster exterior walls in a soft, welcoming yellow greeted me, as did the gentleman who waited to take my keys and whisk my car away. A bellhop retrieved my luggage and carried it up the front steps.

He waited at the entranceway. “You will need to use your card, Madame.”

“I’m sorry, of course.” I rummaged through my pockets. I wiped my palms on my jeans and tried fishing the plastic out. “Sorry. I’m just nervous.”

“It is all right.”

I studied him out of the corner of my eye. He was handsome and young, and very clearly not from around here. His accent betokened a café by a lazy river, or wine alongside a wicker picnic basket in a flower-filled meadow.

I swiped the card. The light flashed red and the door wouldn’t budge.

“Try again,” he said. “Slowly.”

I just wanted to get the hell inside and hide in my room. I gave the card key another shot. This time, I heard the click, and my friend opened the door for me. “Après vous.”

“Thank you.” I crossed the threshold and took a moment to appreciate the dark-stained hardwood flooring and grand staircase before me. We were in a wide atrium and there were two rooms, one on either side of the foyer.

“To the left is the main sitting area. Feel free to bring a book here to read. The light is very good from the large windows.”

I poked my head in to have a look. Floor to ceiling bookshelves ensconced a large stone fireplace.

“To your right is the music room. Do you play?”

A Yamaha ebony grand piano commanded focus. “No.”

He stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “This is the main lobby area. You will meet your personal attendant here at the appropriate time.”

There was a pair of wing back chairs tucked into the curve of the stairwell. I nodded.

He proceeded up the steps, turned right at the landing, and ambled down the long hallway. We passed several doors before stopping at one with the label, Master Suite, in gold font etched in the dark wood. I retrieved the card key again and swiped it in the metal lock. The light flashed green, and my porter opened the door, motioning me inside. I took a moment to process the room while he placed my belongings on a fold out luggage rack.

“Will that be all, Madame?”

I blinked. “Yes, thank you.”

I started to dig in my pockets but he held up his hand. “We do not accept tips. Enjoy your stay.” He bowed slightly and closed the door behind him.

The room was opulent. A large sitting area with couch, wingback chairs, a coffee table, and television sunk two steps down off the main entrance way. A kitchenette with granite countertops, and a large sunroom that opened to a patio with lounge chairs and a hot tub stretched before me. I followed the stone tile floor into the bathroom. The tub could fit three people. A stand up shower, built for two with a rock ledge for sitting, gleamed behind glass doors. The bedroom had a four poster bed, two elegant upholstered chairs, and two wide-paddled ceiling fans. The room looked like it should overlook the ocean. After taking one lingering look at the bed, I hightailed it back out to the sitting room. I checked my watch. I had an hour before I was to meet Stephen. I couldn’t fathom what I was supposed to do with myself for that length of time. I had enough pent up energy to win a marathon, but I couldn’t manage a run, a shower, and still have time to get ready before five. I’d showered before I left home, so it would take me a half hour at most to sachet out the door in time. I opened my bag and laid out my supplies. I could curl my hair. That would take a good twenty minutes in and of itself. Satisfied that I had something to do rather than dwell on what was about to go down, I set to work.

By the time five o’clock rolled around, I had changed into a black dress that dipped low in the back, crept down the front, and swooped around my neck. I paired it with some sky-high heels and my blonde curls. I touched up my make-up, applying mascara and lipstick for that extra oomph and grabbed my small clutch, double checking that the card key was tucked safely inside, along with my compact, lipstick, and a condom. I took a gulping breath and clicked the door shut behind me.

Looking for more? Click on the links to enjoy Part Two and The Climax

In gratitude,

Marissa xo

Pleasure Incorporated

Pleasure Incorporated

Welcome to my sexy new FREE series, Pleasure Incorporated. I’m going to post a first draft, hot-off-the-press story each week. Get ready for 52 weeks of Pleasure!

Each week will feature a new client coming to Pleasure Incorporated in the hopes of having their sexual fantasies come true. Pleasure Inc., delivers on its promises.

Join me here, or on Wattpad for each steamy new excerpt in this tantalizing new series.

In gratitude,

Marissa xo