For just a few days, May 8-10 2012, my erotic comedy "Narcissist Seeks Narcissist" will be available for FREE at Amazon!
I think of this ebook as a lesbian comedy first and foremost, though it does include explicit sex, romance, and even a touch of heartrending backstory. Come for the comedy, stay for the sex. And, hey, it's free!
Naomi thinks Szuszu's post is hilarious --
what a great sense of humor! She can hardly believe the centrefold she
stole from her dad's collection way back in the day is looking for love.
It's not like her to answer a personal ad, but for the infamous Szuszu
she'll make an exception. She thinks Szuszu looks fantastic, and Szuszu
(who refuses to wear her glasses) thinks Naomi looks just like her. What
could ensue but sex, love, and a whole lot of comedy?
"What's that you're scribbling, darling? It's about me, isn't it?"
Szuszu reached across the table, nearly knocking over her backup scotch
and soda. "Hand it over, Babs. Let's have a look."
pressed the cocktail napkin flush to her chest, setting down her slim
gold pen. "It's nothing, Szusz. Just my shopping list." She shook her
head, eyes wide, guilty as sin. "Just my groceries."
Szuszu cackled, knocked back the scotch in her hand, then slammed the
glass down on the table. "Darling, you haven't done the shopping since
you shacked up with that dairy cow you call a wife. You don't need to
shop -- just bend the old hausfrau over a bucket and you've got your
milk for free."
"Leave Matilda out of this." Babette shoved the cocktail napkin in her jacket pocket.
"Ah!" Gazing across the table through the amplifying lens of an empty
scotch glass, Szuszu pointed to Babette's chest. "There! I see what
you've written. It's all smeared across your tits, darling." Squinting,
she tried to make out the loopy handwriting smudged on Babette's skin.
"noitaroda… lautum… rof… What is that, darling, Latin? Or have you had a
Babette glanced down at the writing on her chest,
wetting another serviette with Szuszu's next scotch and rubbing it over
the pen marks. "It's backwards, darling. It's an imprint, you know."
After setting the wet serviette down on the table, she pulled the dry
one from her pocket. "Fine, then. Fine, if you're so curious. Here it
is. That's what I wrote."
Squinting at the flimsy square of
paper, Szuszu held it up close and then away from herself, but the words
still wouldn't come into focus.
"I think you need to get yourself a good pair of specs, Szusz."
Szuszu's eyes twitched at the blasphemy. "Nobody wears glasses,
darling, except librarians and Elton John. I was a model, you know."
"Yes, I know, Szusz. Everybody knows." Babette rolled her eyes like a
teenager. "You do realize you've gone up to every person in this bloody
lounge to tell themI was a model?"
"Well, I was on the cover of all the magazines in my day."
"In your day, right, you were. Headlines read: War is over. Szuszu greets sailors at port."
An overwhelming desire came over Szuszu to kick her dearest friend in
the shins, but when she let loose, her snakeskin boot met the cylinder
of metal holding up the table. "Oh, for Christ sake," she moaned,
rubbing her toe. "If I wasn't legless, I bet that would smart."
Defeated, she handed the napkin back across the table. "Here, read this
for me, Babs. I can't see straight."
"Can't even think
straight," Babette mumbled. "All right then, you want to know what I
wrote while you were babbling on about your glory days? I wrote up a
personal ad, darling: Narcissist seeks narcissist for mutual adoration.
Turn-ons include mirrors, soup spoons, darkened windows, and other
reflective surfaces. Must enjoy photo albums, the sound of her own
voice, and endlessly reliving days of cover girl glory.