WATCHING THE DETECTIVE - unedited NC17 excerpt

WATCHING THE DETECTIVE - Portia Da Costa

Published in the LOVE ON THE DARK SIDE collection of erotic paranormal short stories.

Vicky and her boyfriend Sam are in bed, watching an all night marathon of Vicky's favourite cop show...

As the Channel ident flashes, I steal a split second glance at Sam, but he’s fast asleep already, mouth open, mad, black, curly hair sticking up at all angles and a tea stain down the front of his muscle vest. What a contrast to the sartorial GQ treat that lies ahead of me.

The story preamble begins. Some nasty perp up to no good as usual, but I’m not yet paying full attention due to The Detective not appearing until after the credits. Then the credits begin… thunder rolls… and the room goes black!

‘Fucking, fuckety fuck!’ I shout, regardless of Sam’s slumbers, and like an idiot, I start stabbing buttons on the remote still in my hand. As if that’ll restore the electricity.

And yet, against the odds, it does do something. Thunder cracks again and the lights flicker faintly but only for a second. They go out again, but astonishingly, the television springs back to life. The screen looks slightly blue tinted, but not too badly. It’s still perfectly watchable.

And the credits of my beloved cop show are still a-rolling.

At least it seems to be my cop show. My heart leaps again with bubbling excitement. It must be a special episode or something - maybe recorded just for this marathon - because the sequence of images isn’t one I’ve ever seen before. The frames are sharp, ultra clear, almost 3D, and as they fade from one to the other, each one of the hairs on the back of my neck seem to prickle and rise individually. And even though it’s the same familiar music, and the same graphic styling, there’s only the one character featured in the montage.

It’s just The Detective with no sign whatsoever of the rest of the team.

And at the end, he seems to walk towards the camera, my guy, tall and intent, dressed in an immaculate thousand dollar suit of bluish grey. His long stride eats up the ground, and as he approaches, he just keeps on coming… and coming… and coming…

‘Vicky Sheridan?’ he enquires imperiously when he reaches me, flipping out his hand‑cuffs from the clip at his belt. But before I can answer, he grabs me by the shoulder, hauls me from the bed and snaps the cuffs on me while I’m still wondering what’s happening and trying to catch my breath.

What?

‘You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.’ He grips my shoulder again, and propels me forward, parroting out the Miranda as if I’m the lowest of low -life of scuzz-buckets he’s just apprehended. ‘You have the right to speak to an attorney, and to have an attorney present during any questioning. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you at government expense. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?’

By now he’s manhandling me through a familiar door into a familiar room, and I’m so gob‑smacked I don’t have a breath of resistance in me.

It’s the interrogation room. We’re in a familiar chilly grey box with the mirror and the metal table and chairs that I’ve seen in scores of episodes. And it’s just as soulless and intimidating in real life as it is on the television.

Real life? What the hell am I talking about ‘real life’ for? My heart’s bouncing around as if it’s on a bungee and my skin is a pointillist fresco of painful goose-bumps. This isn’t real. How can I be here?

LOVE ON THE DARK SIDE is available from Amazon.co.uk now and from Amazon.com on 16th October 07

GOTHIC BLUE - manuscript excerpt NC17

'Who were you yelling at?' enquired Jonathan as she re-entered the folly. He was lying on the divan, and his hand was near his crotch, so Belinda guessed he had been caressing his penis. He snatched away his fingers as she approached him across the tiles, as if not wanting her to think he needed manual stimulation.

Belinda knew she didn't need it. Her climax in the forest had primed her erotic spirit, and her sex felt empty, and in need of male possession. Half throwing herself onto the divan beside Jonathan, she crawled up onto her hands and her knees, and offered him her body in the most enticing way she knew. Poised on all fours, she undulated her hips, her thighs wide apart... Her whole body was wet, but her female flesh was wetter still, and she knew that with the next bold of lightning, he would see that.

Right on cue, the sky opened and pealed, and with a hoarse cry, Jonathan hurled himself upon her.

He slid in with such speed, and to such a depth that Belinda was pushed forward and squashed under him. As he pounded her and pushed her, she gnawed the old velour beneath her, and gouged it into bunches with her fists.

Gentle Jonathan seemed possessed with the same storm demon that she was, and his thrusts were savage and unfocused. He was hurting her, but she was loving it. In seconds, she was soaring back to climax. Rotating her hips, she shoved her bottom hard against him, then reached in between her legs to rub her centre. As his belly slapped her buttocks, she felt a flash of inner lightning, and as she climaxed, she stifled her screams in the soft grey cover.

'Lindi!' she heard Jonathan sob, then felt him lunge, then lunge again as he jerked inside her. She was squashed like a star as he shuddered out his pleasure, but in her ecstasy there was no awareness of discomfort.

Floating in stillness and contentment, she felt Jonathan soften and slide out of her... then roll over to lay his body down beside her. Remotely, she perceived the brutal storm was over.

The sky was quiet and the air was dark, and she and Jonathan were alone in their round, white folly. The night was all peace, and half gone, but to her surprise, she still felt that she was being watched. Scrutinised in intense detail, by a pair of eyes that seemed to observe her from within. Brilliant blue eyes that were both hot and icy cold.

ISBN 0352330759

Originally published by Black Lace in 1996 - new reprint April 2007 [US]

Gothic Blue is available from Amazon.co.uk and Amazon.com

Buddies Don't Bite - unedited excerpt

But then, inside, something intangible tipped over…

Arms like steel bands closed tight around her, and his tongue gently pressed between her lips, demanding entrance. She let him in, loving the strange coolness of the moist and mobile pressure.

Her arms came up, hands roving over his hard back beneath his thin cotton shirt. And the touch of that was cool too, like woven cobwebs slipping and sliding over marble.

Although she’d lived with this man for months, she very, very rarely touched him. She’d quite forgotten the shock of his cold skin when they’d shaken hands to seal their house‑sharing agreement, but now his hurried talk of poor circulation came back into her mind.

But there was nothing wrong with his circulation today, it seemed. Everything about him was active and hungry and full of life. Where before he’d been diffident, he was vibrant and eager now. Where he’d seemed to be holding back, he’d opened wide the gates.

Tugging at each other, they were suddenly on the kitchen floor just as she’d imagined, kissing like maniacs. Zack threw one long lean leg across her, and reacquainted Teresa with that phenomenal bulge about which she was forever fantasising.

This is demented! I’m kissing my landlord and he’s got a hard-on!

Unable to contain herself, Teresa surged against him, rocking herself shamelessly against Zack’s sturdy erection. So much for keeping their distance from and observing ‘friends only’ no go areas! Her outburst seemed to have altered all the parameters. There didn’t seem to be anywhere she couldn’t venture now.

He had the most glorious backside. Tight and hard and round like a brace of ripe apples. And when she grasped it, he growled in his throat in a most astonishing way. Deep and fierce, like the call of a jungle animal, it bounced off the kitchen walls and filled her ears. If she hadn’t had his tongue in her mouth, Teresa would have said, ‘What the hell is going on?’

But their tongues were dancing and she felt like growling too.

Deep in her belly, a famished hunger was gnawing at her. It was a long while since she’d had good sex. A real, hard, long wonderful session in bed… She’d held back with Steve, and had been hoping this weekend would be their romantic first time. But now, she thanked every lucky star in heaven that she hadn’t succumbed…

Now, she knew she’d been waiting and saving herself for Zack, and that the long weeks of abstinence would be worth it.

Oh, I want you! she cried silently to him, massaging his sensational bottom, and squirreling herself around against his cock.

Zack’s answer was to growl again, a low feral sound. His lips crushed hers, his tongue thrusting, thrusting, just like the sex act. Where the kiss had been gentle and controlled at first, it was totally off the rails now. His mouth started to rove, moving roughly, messily, thrillingly over her face, along her jaw, as his hips rocked and jerked in an explicit rhythm that met and matched hers.

It was like being a horny teenager all over again, but magnified to the n’th degree. Every part of her was hot. They were rubbing against each other like crazy animals, and Teresa was the one making moaning noises now, unable to contain herself as Zack’s hands went all over the place. Her breasts. Her thighs. The cleft of her bottom. He was surveying her physical geography, and he was impatient. His fingers wriggled between their bodies, tugging at her skirt and searching for access to her sex.

And all the while he was kissing, licking, tasting… and nibbling.

Nibbling? More than that… as his mouth reached her throat, she suddenly yelped and jerked beneath him.

Dear God, that is so hot! He’s biting my neck!

Continuum... first time with Kevin

It had come about almost instinctively, in the way the whole evening had. One minute they were eating, talking, and getting on so comfortably with each other that they might have been friends for years, and the next they were kissing wildly and searching for gaps in each other’s clothes.

Or at least she was searching.

‘Hey, steady on,’ Kevin had said, laughing, as he grasped her wrists and kept her still, ‘what’s the hurry?’

Joanna blushed, aware that she was dishevelled and breathing heavily. She felt mortified at having seemed so keen. She usually played the self-possessed, hard-to-get hand with men, and it usually worked. It was only because she was tired and disorientated that she had let herself rush things.

Frowning, she jerked free of him, then clutched at the gaping neckline of her blouse.

‘Hey,’ he said again, softly this time, cajolingly. Then, like quicksilver, he caught hold of her by the upper arms, and leaned forward to kiss her slowly on the mouth.

For the first few moments, he simply pressed his lips to hers, letting her enjoy the warmth of the gentle, quiescent contact. Joanna had closed her eyes, automatically, but now she opened them and found that his too were open. Blue and placid, they were level, intent, lazily watchful. She tried to pull back, but his hands whipped up from her arms to cradle her head. Her eyes widened, and she tried to struggle, but before she could achieve anything his tongue flicked between her lips like a small hot serpent. He continued to watch her as it probed and lewdly darted.

For a reason she didn’t quite understand, Joanna found it impossible to move. She stood, almost limply, her head still lightly gripped in Kevin’s hands, while his tongue flashed around her mouth and explored its inner membranes. She closed her eyes, but she sensed his were still open.

The kiss went on for several minutes, and throughout it, Joanna remained passive, letting Kevin command the initiative for them both. His hands moved constantly in her soft blonde curls, adjusting the position of her head; gently tilting it, occasionally stroking it. It was as if he were a sculptor creating the kiss as a work of art. Joanna had never been kissed that way before.

When his lips finally left hers, she swayed. Though her eyelids felt weighted, she opened her eyes, just as Kevin released her head, and when she focused, she discovered him stripping off his clothes. Torn between anger and desire, she let desire win, and began unfastening her blouse. She was astounded however, when Kevin - his tie, shoes and socks already flung about him and his fine cotton shirt undone - grasped her hands again, and squeezed them, as if to still her. She was even more surprised that when he let them go, they stayed where they were; clasped against her chest, fingers curled, while he continued.

In a moment or two, he was naked, and almost reluctantly, Joanna was impressed. Wearing clothes, Kevin was an appealing man, for all his unusual, pointed features; but without clothes he was something else entirely.

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Continuum is available now in the UK and from 6th Feb '07 in the US

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