3am, a woman and her broom…

3am this morning I heard a noise under the house…actually a prolonged something or someone noise under the house. So I went and had a look – pitch black, broom in hand and dressed in my pjs. Yeah…I am frigging insane. I have a problem. I fear nothing. I expect that will get me in trouble one day. Do you do dumb things like this? Nah, you’re probably too smart. Anyway, I went down stairs to ‘sweep’ whomever or whatever it was away. Naturally I expected another possum…a very large one by the sound of it. When I got downstairs there was nothing. I believe the sight of me in my pj’s with my feral hair was enough to scare whatever it was away. Yes, I will consider hiring myself out to scare people off if the money is worthwhile.

I am on a mission. Look out…get out of the way…woman with a tape measure…

So what's my mission? I have been slowly renovating the house. I have an old wooden house. Things take time. Things take money. Yeah, I know I'm preaching to the choir. Anyway, I have been thinking about getting the laundry, which is under the house, renovated. It's pretty bloody basic at the moment. I have a new washer but the rest is what I would call orange crate rustic. I have been looking at getting a carpenter in to do all sorts of things down there. Getting one of these creatures is hard. They say that will come but they never appear. Being the sort of woman I am - pushy, bossy and under the assumption I can do everything - I have decided to tackle this project myself. I am, after all the woman who nearly chopped her big toe off when I removed a wall. I am capable of inflicting great damage on myself in the name of renovation. I have the scars to prove it therefore I feel I have the experience to do this reno project on my own. Yes, blood will flow but I have decided I can do this job myself. I say myself because those who would be happy to help me realize it’s not a good idea. Why? Because I like certain things done a certain way and I am capable of working flat out for 24 hours to get something done right. Yes, I am exhausting so people tend to steer clear from offering help when I mention my latest project and I take no offense in that.

So I have been walking around measuring walls, cupboards and floors and scribbling copious measurements down. Can I put a wall in? Maybe, maybe not but damn it I am going to give it a try. What's the worst that can happen? I break another toe? Ha! I have steel capped boots now. And while I haven’t done tiling for a while I reckon I'll give that a crack too. Shelving is easy. Give me a cordless drill and I am capable of anything. Now I just have to find the time…ah yes…time. Apparently though, as I am single I have time. Someone told me this was a fact. This person, who will remain nameless, said single people go to work and come home and then do nothing. Possibly some do. Possibly they live on Mars. I have not met a single person who finishes work and does ‘nothing.’ What do you reckon ‘nothing’ looks like? Do they come home and sit on the sofa and stare into space? Do they wish that had a partner so they could do nothing with someone else? That’s what nothing suggests to me. I put it to you that martial or partnered status has stuff all to do with the ‘nothing’ quotient in life. I also suggest that people who make these statements need to either pull their heads in or look at what they fear in life. Perceptions in life huh?

Daffodil by Anny Cook – it’s hot and it’s out now. Click on the cover to buy – oh and it’s an adult excerpt…

Bart’s interior sleeping chamber Pansy woke alone, shivering with cold. Her tattered dress hung on a hook across the room repairing itself with the regeneration spell she put on it when they went to bed. Back then Bart’s warm body was wrapped around her, providing a blanket of heat. In the dark she patted the bed around her. No Bart. Softly, she called his name. “Bart?”
She heard a snort and then a puff of aromatic smoke wafted over her. “What?”
“I’m cold.”
With a heartfelt sigh, he reluctantly opened his eyes, illuminating the space between Pansy and him. “Well, move back over here. You wiggle around so much when you sleep it’s like nesting with a hummingbird. Jab. Poke. Try to be still,” he grumbled.
Pansy crawled over next to him as he tugged a heavy blanket up and spread it over her small body. She snuggled close, basking in the wonderful warmth he radiated. “Hmmm. You’re so hot.”
Bart grunted and shut his eyes plunging them in darkness once more. “Go to sleep.”
Her hands brushed against the smooth scales on his belly. Fascinated by the silky, slick surfaces, she rubbed her fingers over them in the dark, enjoying the way they felt under her touch. Caught up in her explorations, she didn’t analyze the strange urge to get closer. Rolling on her side so that her breasts and belly faced her dragon, she thrust the coverlet out of the way. With increasing urgency, she slowly surged against his chest dragging her turgid nipples across the pebbled surface.

He opened one golden eye. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I don’t know but it feels wonderful.”
Abruptly, he rolled her on her back, nudging her legs apart and shifted his heavy body down in the bed so that his head was between her legs. Carefully pinning each leg down with a heavy claw, he opened his mouth and gently puffed warm air across her mound. Then his long forked tongue snaked out and flickered across her tight nipples.
With a breathless shriek, she curled up and grabbed at the hard ruffles that lined his jaw. A chuckle rumbled in his chest and he flicked the hard tips again. “So you like that, my Pansy?” His tongue slithered down across her smooth abdomen and plunged in the damp valley between her legs. Her plump folds parted allowing the sweet scent of her cream to drift to his nostrils. He inhaled deeply before sliding the tip of his tongue in her slippery entrance.
Pansy whimpered and writhed on the soft bed. “Uh, Bart? Bart!”
He slid his tongue out and flicked it across her tiny clit. “That’s my name!”
“Bart!” she shrieked again as he slid one fork across her clit while slipping the other back inside her pussy. She wriggled madly beneath his ministrations, yanking on his jaw ruffles. Suddenly, her entire body convulsed as she came, drenching his tongue with her sweet cream. Bart’s busy tongue extended her climax as he eagerly searched out every drop until she shuddered and collapsed into a satisfied heap.
Sliding back up in the bed, he curled around Pansy’s limp body, carefully cradling her against his heat. A quick tug on the blanket spread it over his little faery’s body. He sighed with deep contentment. One thing he’d discovered for himself. Pansy was indeed a virgin. And that meant that he could take her as his mate. A low rumble of possession vibrated in his big chest as for the first time in his life his heart lifted with hope. He resolved to guard her closely. Nothing and no one would harm her in her search for Daffodil’s tooth.

**************

Yes – the contest closes Friday at the stroke of 12 midnight USA EST which is like 5pm my time…see right – that’s the prize. See below…thems the questions…page down a bit and you may just find that I put the answers on the blog…okay I did…

Question 1: What subject does lecturer Dash Lomard teach?

Question 2: How old is India Blake?

Email the answers to amarinda_jones@yahoo.com.au. Please put ‘Contest’ in the subject field of the email.

www.freewebs.com/amarindajones/
Go ahead: Live with abandon. Be outrageous at any age. What are you saving your best self for?