Posts Tagged ‘erotica’

Interview with Do Not Disturb: Hotel Sex Stories contributor Gwen Masters

February 26, 2009

Today’s contributor Q&A is with erotica writer Gwen Masters, whose story in the book is called “Memphis.”

How did you come up with the idea for your story in Do Not Disturb?

Okay, so here’s confession time…when that story was first written, I was spending a lot of time in a certain hotel in Memphis with a certain man. After each of our encounters, I wrote a story for him. There were dozens of them by the time we were through, and “Memphis” was one of the first.

Were you inspired by any particular hotels?

I’ve always found hotels inspiring, because I see them as a blank canvas of sorts. The room is anonymous, the guy behind the desk will probably never remember your name, and hell — you don’t even have to use your real name if you pay in cash, do you? Behind those doors, anything is possible, and nobody has to know.

I also love the story of the room. You know there has to be a multitude of stories for that space. Everything about it begs for attention — who read the Bible in the drawer? Who left that note on the paper that you found under the bed? Those fingerprints on the window, up near the top…how did they get there? Even the last channel the television was on…I love the mystery of every little thing about the hotel room, and I like leaving a little something behind of my own. I’ve been known to write messages on postcards and slip them into drawers.

Is there a part of a hotel that you think is the sexiest?

You know those rooms at the very back of the hallway, where you turn a corner and find the vending machines and the ice? I’ve always found that so incredibly hot. Between the roar of the ice machine and the hum of all the other machines plugged in back there, you can’t hear each other speak. There are all sorts of little corners where you can work some sexual magic — and you could get caught! If you’ve never had sex beside that vibrating ice machine, you must put it on your to-do list.

What’s been your favorite hotel experience (x-rated or not)?

Waking up after a long night of making love, the windows open and the sunlight spilling over me — and he wasn’t there. But there was a tray filled with pastries, a glass of milk and a glass of orange juice, a long-stemmed rose and the paper, with a note telling me to read and eat and sleep in…that he would be back in a bit. There was something so sweet about knowing I had nowhere to be, no one would bother me, and my only duty in life at that moment was to read the paper and wait on my lover. It was a beautiful day.

What do you think a hotel needs to make it a “sexy hotel?”

A concierge who gives you that wink that says he knows what you’re up to and he didn’t see a thing, thank you very much. A certain “hush” that comes with opulence — the kind of muted sound that always reminds me of thick carpets, glistening chandeliers and complimentary martinis in the lobby.

Is there a specific hotel you’ve stayed in which you recommend, and/or a hotel you want to stay in, and why?

The Peabody Hotel in Memphis is simply stunning. The MGM Grand ranks up there, too.

What’s next for you?

On the writing side, I’m writing a few short stories for Black Lace anthologies. I’ve just started on another erotic novel, but I’m taking my time with it. I’m very busy with my freelance business right now.

On the hotel side, which one is next?

Very soon…Hotel California!

And here’s an excerpt from “Memphis” – read the rest in Do Not Disturb: Hotel Sex Stories.

What?” I was whispering and not sure why, as frozen as the ice chips the shrimp rested on. My eyes met his brown ones over his tilted wineglass, and he smiled at me.

“We’re hiding from what we already know.” He said it with absolute certainty.

I dropped my shrimp fork with a clatter of silver on china. Neither of us noticed.

Is that how it starts? How affairs begin? With a gesture or a word that suddenly turns an old friend into a lover, crying out above you in a rented bed somewhere on the edge of nowhere? Does it always drop out of the blue and explode, fragmenting your life? And then plant itself inside you and grow into beauty, into memories and smiles, building you into something stronger than you were?

For me, with my married lover, there’s a bounce in my step that everyone notices but can’t explain. It comes from pulling up beside a sports car parked outside of a hotel, in a town you’ve never visited before, and going through an open door with the DO NOT DISTURB sign already in place. It comes from there being no time for words before you’re rushed into a dimly lit room and surrounded by his arms, his voice, and his desire. You both collapse onto the bed that has become a refuge.

He’s married. I knew that as I walked out of the restaurant and slid into the passenger seat of his sports car. I heard her name in my head as he drove, one hand on the wheel and one hand on my thigh. I saw her in my head as the hotel room door closed behind us. I listened to her laughing with him as he pressed me back against that door and kissed me. I felt the guilt as I kissed him back, but I wanted him more than I wanted to heed the conscience that was shaking its head in shame.

Advertisements

Interview with Do Not Disturb: Hotel Sex Stories contributor Amanda Earl

February 24, 2009

This is the first in a series of author interviews with the contributors to Do Not Disturb: Hotel Sex Stories. Stay tuned for more!

How did you come up with the idea for your story “Welcome to the Aphrodisiac Hotel” in Do Not Disturb: Hotel Sex Stories?

I love hotel lobby bars; whenever I’m in one I always eavesdrop on conversations. I find it fascinating that they are meeting places for strangers, there for conferences or other gatherings.

Were you inspired by any particular hotels?

In Ottawa, there’s a hotel downtown, which is part of the Westin Hotel chain and is attached to a large mall, the Rideau Centre and a conference centre. It has a great lobby bar with a fantastic view of a famous landmark hotel, the Chauteau Laurier.

Is there a part of a hotel that you think is the sexiest?

The lobby as in my story, but also the elevator. Lots of possibilities for play there, especially if you have a room on the top floor of a tall building.

What’s been your favorite hotel experience (x-rated or not)?

I once had a threesome at the Westin with my husband and a man I’d met on line. We all fucked in the big bed. I sucked my husband’s cock while the other guy did me doggy style. We had a view of the Canadian Parliament Buildings. It was both arousing and inspiring.

What do you think a hotel needs to make it a “sexy hotel?”

I hate to sound obsessive, but it needs a really good lobby bar for clandestine encounters and hook ups with strangers. The Ritz Carlton in Montreal has a very sexy lobby bar with good snacks and great martinis. It also has a tea room for more delicate assignations.

Is there a specific hotel you’ve stayed in which you recommend, and/or a hotel you want to stay in, and why?

Isn’t there a hotel in New York that will send up sex toys to your room? That would be fun. I also recommend the Mirror Lake Inn in Lake Placid New York. Some of the rooms that are not part of the main building have spiral staircases and fireplaces. Then after your wild sexual escapades you can go take a walk around the beautiful lake.

What’s next for you?

In the spring, I have a story called “Ghost Swinger” coming out in the on line anthology Swing! put out by Logical Lust and edited by Jolie du Pre. Another story, “the Juice Extractors” will appear in the Ultimate Art of Erotica, 2009, published by Crystal Dreams. I believe that book will be out by the summer. I also blog over at my erotica blog: amanderotica.blogspot.com.

And here’s a little sneak peak at Amanda’s story, “Welcome to the Aphrodisiac Hotel,” which opens Do Not Disturb, but do be sure to get the book to read the whole thing.

I’ve always had a thing for hotel lobby bars. They act as a buffer between business and pleasure. Sometimes business is pleasure. I shiver with desire in the shadow of a group of bankers or politicians sipping their scotch, the scent of money and power folded into every crease of their navy blue suits. Do these men have mistresses or escorts waiting for them in their luxury suites? Maybe a bellboy will kneel for them after he takes their luggage up to their rooms, for a little money in his palm. Or perhaps basking in the afterglow of a strategic win is all they need, sitting in this bar, nursing their drinks. They never seem in any hurry to leave.

These establishments have their own sets of rules–check your morality at the door along with your suitcase. When you visit a hotel lobby bar, anything can happen. What I like about them is their illicitness, the fact that they are just steps away from elevators that carry clandestine lovers up to hotel beds where so many other people have fucked or cried or indulged in decadent room service dinners. Or maybe it’s their transitory nature…places where strangers pass in the night for one brief encounter that could change their lives forever–or at least for right now.

The woman sitting at the wrought iron and marble table for two near the window and sipping a dry martini with two olives is a sales rep, most likely for a pharmaceutical company. There are numerous drug sales reps in hotel lobby bars at any given moment.

I notice her the moment she walks in. I muse over whether she’s a blatant or merely accidental exhibitionist.

Lillian Ann Slugocki: The story behind the story

February 17, 2009

:Do Not Disturb: Hotel Sex Stories contributor Lillian Ann Slugocki gives the story behind her story, “The St. John’s Hotel, 1890,” on her blog:

I wrote about a frontier woman in a frontier town. It could be any wind swept horizon, anytime one hundred years ago. I like the myth of the self sufficient woman of the wild wild west. Annie Oakley, she got her gun and now you don’t f**k with her. I like the calico skirts and the bonnets, the boots, the wild untameable hair. Her husband died some time ago and now she lives alone on the ranch. She goes into town a couple of times a month for supplies and to have high tea with her BFF at The St. John Hotel. The year is 1890.

Of course she meets a man. A stranger with a long scar on his handsome face. He’s dangerous, in fact he’s a killer. It’s a revision of the Blue Beard story. Girl meets monster and falls in love. The monster kills her, add her to his museum of murdered women. In my version she has combustive sex with him in a tawdry hotel room. He ignites all cylinders. Damn, if she doesn’t find herelf on fire. A forty year old widow with a sunburned face screwing her brains out. She can’t get enough of him.

When the ghost of his last lover appears to her one night, however, and reveals his secret, she escapes out the window, and lives to tell her tale. She’s old now. She still longs for him. She remembers what he did to her body. But she’s older and wiser. She knows better. Better to be alive than enshrined in a mausoleum of beautiful dead women. So its a ghost story, a love story, and a twist on an old favorite story.

Hot hot hot photos from the Do Not Disturb book trailer shoot

January 26, 2009

I had NO idea my friend Stacie Joy took this shot, of a drunken me drifting off to sleep after our wild and crazy (like getting kicked out of an elevator after setting off the alarm and making out) book trailer shoot for Do Not Disturb: Hotel Sex Stories. Serious, it was fun and hot. Stacie Joy has an AMAZING set of 113 photos from the shoot, and the best part is some are things I didn’t even get to see, though I heard they were super hot. Check it all out, and stay tuned for the trailer, to debut around Valentine’s Day.

Okay, there are 113 photos and I love all of them, so please check them out and if you like them, well…consider buying my book Do Not Disturb, or just wait for the trailer!


(I like this one because you can also see us in the mirror)

Have hotel sex at home!

January 16, 2009

Mom Logic has a little piece about how to have hotel sex at home, including:

3. Invest in the highest thread-count sheets you can afford. At least 300 is recommended. (They often have the at discount prices at stores like TJ Maxx and Marshalls.)

4. This is a bit decadent … but a mini-fridge stocked with fresh strawberries, water, champagne, and even treats like hotel-favorite Toberlones can make a post-romp sex super convenien

And one of them included a link to this Etsy seller and I snapped these do not disturb signs up! I’ll be giving them away in a Do Not Disturb contest in March, so stay tuned!

Etsy Do Not Disturb signs

An excerpt from Do Not Disturb: “Talking Dirty”

November 24, 2008

Shanna Germain posted an excerpt from her OCD-themed erotica story (yes, you read that right, and yes, it’s hot, and heartbreaking, all at once) “Talking Dirty” that will appear in Do Not Disturb: Hotel Sex Stories, so I’m going to post that here too:

In the bathroom, I straighten the edges of the bath mat and make sure the toilet paper is still covered in its protective sleeve. I put both bars of mini-soap, safe inside their paper wrapping, on the sill of the tub. The shower is almost all glass, clear and perfect. I turn it on full blast, making sure that the water is just warmer than body temperature. The spray turns the skin of my wrist bright pink.

I dry my hands on the very back of the towel, where she won’t be able to see and make sure the terry cloth hangs perfectly straight. Then I slip back out to where she stands in the hall, shifting from foot to foot, elbows in her palms.

“It’s perfect,” I say. Even if it wasn’t, I would say this. She’s willing to believe for me, to try, as long as I believe. If I show doubts, if I ask if it’s okay, if she’s okay, it starts the mechanism in her head. I think of it as a bomb—once it starts, you can’t stop it until it explodes—but Cate says it’s more like a clock, winding its unstoppable way up until she can’t hear anything but the alarm, the way it screams “cuckoo, cuckoo!” I wish it was a clock, that easy. I’d hire someone to go in there and rework the wires, give that cuckoo bird a little shut-up surgery. But, of course, it doesn’t work like that. The brain, as Cate’s therapist says, is not a simple machine.

Cate smiles, but it’s her nervous smile, the one where she pinches her bottom lip between her teeth. “Okay then,” she says. “Let’s do this. Boom-boom-boom.”

I want to kiss her for trying to make a joke, but it’s too early. I haven’t even washed yet. “Come in to my room,” I say as I pick her up and push the door open with my elbow. She closes her eyes as I carry her through the main room into the bathroom.

“It’s up,” she says. “Come up to my room.” Eyelids squeezed shut, her hands still holding her elbows. This is a tic in the ritual. I hold her there in the bathroom, her balled-up weight against my chest, waiting to see if this will throw us off course. My breath stays tight in my chest; it’s been three weeks since we’ve made love. Last week, one of the mini soaps wasn’t wrapped. Before that, it was something she couldn’t explain, the feeling that something was off. Once, we never even made it to the room—a man touched Cate’s elbow in the elevator on the way up—and I just pushed the L button and we rode back down to the lobby without a word.

Cate inhales—a big sound that pushes her belly out. She pops her cheeks out like a chipmunk and wiggles her lips over her teeth. Holding her breath and counting down from ten. This is something her therapist’s taught her, I think. A way to stop the wind-up. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it just makes her dizzy.

She opens those pale eyes.

“Okay, I’m good,” she says. “Let’s do this.” Oh God. Have I heard more beautiful words? No.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” I say.

“Okay, okay,” she says. “Just get my beautiful ass in the fucking shower.”

I want to laugh, to kiss her again. The therapist says she’d never heard of swearing as a way to cope, but that we are free to use it if it works. Sometimes it works. This time, Cate only shakes a little as I lift her, still clothed, into the shower.

“Made for Sex” – introduction to Do Not Disturb: Hotel Sex Stories

November 20, 2008

I’m so thrilled that the contents of Do Not Disturb: Hotel Sex Stories just got finalized. I’ll post the Table of Contents here soon, but for now, I can share my introduction to the book (it may get tweaked a little in copyediting, but I couldn’t resist):

Introduction: Made for Sex

Hotel rooms are, in a word, hot. The minute I enter one, I want to strip off all my clothes and dive naked between the sheets, whether I have a lover there to share in the indulgence with me or not. Much more so than my own bed, hotel beds make me horny. They are, or at least, seem to me, to be made for sex.

Hotels give us the chance to unwind, relax, and, if we choose, become someone else. Behind closed doors, we are free to frolic, fuck, and flaunt ourselves. It doesn’t matter whether the hotel is in a faraway land or in your own hometown; the point is, it’s a clean slate. It’s not your home filled with all the reminders of what you could or should be doing. Other people have fucked and will fuck in the bed you’re about to sleep in; that can be a turn-on in and of itself. It’s your borrowed space, for an hour, a day, a night, or longer, and in that time, you can claim it, control it, use it for your own naughty purposes. Other guests are prowling the hotel, checking in, checking out, banging and getting banged against the wall. There’s a sense that anything can happenæand quite often, it does.

To me, the anonymity of hotel rooms, their personality wiped clean with each new guest, is part of their appeal. They beckon us with their welcoming ways. They offer an escape from the everyday, a chance to let loose and become someone else. In Do Not Disturb, I wanted to capture the ways hotels fit into our erotic imagination, whether they’re a necessity or a luxury. Hotels let us explore parts of our passion that get left behind in the rush of daily life.

The authors whose work you are about to read understand perfectly the allure of a fresh hotel roomæor a hotel lobby. Indeed, the entire atmosphere a hotel offers can simply scream of sex. This goes for five-star and by-the-hour joints. They each have something to add, and here you’ll find romps between lovers and strangers, reunions and quickies, as these characters indulge in their new settings.

Many of the characters here use hotels for secrecy, relying on the unspoken code of employees to never share what goes on. Others use them for flirting, for catching their prey. Many need a hotel room in order to engage in an affair or a roleplay. Whether exploring Japan’s love hotels in Isabelle Gray’s “So Simple a Place” or getting “A Room at the Grand” for a very special callgirl, the men and women you’ll read about get off on their surroundings. The hotel itself becomes a player in their affair, a sign of the lengths they’ll go to be together.

And this book wouldn’t be complete without some extramarital affairs that can only happen in hotel rooms, like the lovers in Lisabet Sarai’s “Reunion” or Gwen Masters’s “Memphis.” For these characters, the hotel room takes on added meaning for it is an ever-changing venue where their relationships grow, where they can savor each other’s bodies without their spouses knowing, or so they hope.

Hotel rooms are also perfect for quickies, those fast fucks that you only need an hour or so for, made all the more arousing for their brevity. In Saskia Walker’s “The Lunch Break,” a sultry waitress pounces on a diner, and in my “Hump Day,” a couple shed their business personae once a week to become the kind of people they could never be (or fuck) at home.

Even in the more innocent stories here, the vacation sex, the getaways among couples, there’s something just a little clandestine about these hotel room hookups. That air of perversion is what makes getting serviced in a hotel (or motel) infinitely sweeter than doing it anywhere else. It’s a private way of being an exhibitionist, of leaving the staff and fellow guests guessing (or parading around in your hotel robes). Sometimes it’s a neighbor who’ll lure you from the safety of your relationship, such as the lesbian who teaches Madlyn March’s protagonist a thing or two in “Heart-Shaped Holes,” or the way Elizabeth Coldwell’s fellow jurors wind up relieving some tension in between trial time.

There’s a hotel in New York, the Library Hotel, that has long intrigued me. They offer an Erotica Suite, filled with strawberries, whipped cream, red roses, erotic dice, Mionetto Presecca, edible honey dust, and a Kama Sutra pocket guide. They’re upfront in their intention that you truly savor their package, as well as your lover’s. I’ve never stayed there, or done more than pass by. In some ways, I prefer to keep its beauty safely tucked away in my imagination, the kind of room I’d use with a rich lover from out of town who’d seduce me with his or her accent, whisper to me in a foreign tongue before taking that foreign tongue and licking me all over. That’s another thing about hotel rooms: they are perfect to fantasize about. In them, and in your dreams about them, you can have any kind of sex with anyone (or everyone) you want.

I can tell you that the sex I’ve had in hotel rooms has been some of the hottest of my life. I get off on knowing that neighbors may hear me, and in fact, that brings out the exhibitionist in me. The sexiest porn director I know took me to his hotel room in Manhattan one night and while his porn star girlfriend was elsewhere, we indulged in one of the most dirty, powerful, delicious fucks I’ve ever had, and when he came all over my chest, I reveled in it. I didn’t wash it off, either, but proudly let it dry on my skin and couldn’t stop the smile that found its way to my lips as I took the subway home.

Once, in some random seedy L.A. hotel, another lover and I hadn’t brought any condoms, and instead had to make do with a paddle and a butt plugæpoor us. In a seedy Midtown motel, I spent a few hours romping with a very sexy young man who showed me all kinds of ways I could twist my body to extend my pleasure, then felt a shocked, naughty thrill as he entered the bathroom while I peed and watched me before dipping his fingers into the stream. Something I likely wouldn’t have allowed at home became acceptable in a place I’d likely never find myself again. And when I’m in a hotel room by myself, tucked away under the sheets, I feel naughty and decadent, even if the only party guests I’m hosting are my fingers and my pussy.

While I doubt hotels are going to be stocking this book in their dresser drawers alongside The Bible, I hope that it finds its way into hotel romps. I picture lovers reading aloud to one another as they get ready to mark their hotel room, or in the afterglow, perhaps leaving it behind for the next lucky guest. I hope hotel staff spirit it away and read it during their downtime. I hope the next time you enter a hotel lobby, even if you have no intention of getting busy with anyone you may find there, that you’ll at least notice the many erotic possibilities that greet you.

My most recent hotel rendezvous was at the ultra-fancy art-filled Chambers Hotel in Minneapolis. I was staying by myself for two nights, and while I didn’t share my bed, the room itself beckoned to me. I found myself getting horny as I dove between the covers, wishing I had a lover to share my good fortune with. Now I have this book, which I hope you’ll take with you on your travels, perhaps read it while lounging in a hotel lobby, or whisper from it into your lover’s ear before you make so much noise in your hotel room bed that someone calls security. However and wherever you read this book, I hope it turns you on as much as it does me.

Rachel Kramer Bussel
New York City

Welcome to the world of hotel sex!

November 14, 2008

This blog is all about hotel sex, and my upcoming book Do Not Disturb: Hotel Sex Stories, a book of erotica taking place in fancy hotels, by-the-hour motels, love hotels and hotels in between. I want to hear about what your favorite part of hotel sex is, and also talk about hotels that in and of themselves are sexy, the kinds of buildings you want to enter and simply soak in their erotic ambiance. I’ll be posting the book’s intro and table of contents and excerpts once it’s finalized, as well as exploring all that’s hot about hotels!

Feel free to contact me at rachelravenous at gmail.com to share your own hotel sex story, or with any questions.