Having the Tables Turned: A Writing Prompt from Siobhan Kinkade

So last month, after her interview, Siobhan Kinkade forgot to give me a writing prompt so we could properly turn the tables and put me in the hot seat. She has since remedied this, hoo boy...This proves that sometimes I should keep my big mouth shut!

So this month is kind of a part two of last month where I respond to her challenge and write a little something with the prompt she's given me. Sigh. I'll put her prompt in bold, and go from there!

***

It was a dark and stormy night and the fairies took over the stripper pole. It was the only recourse when Beltane fell on a moonless, rainy night and the last Maypole in town had been bulldozed decades ago to make way for a rest stop. It wasn't the best solution, to be sure, but tradition had to be kept and the local strip was closer to the Faerie mound than the nearest field. Quietly they emerged from what unsuspecting mortals took to be an over-sized speed bump misplaced in a back alley. Through the years they adapted to life in the city, so pixies and elves, brownies and sylphs, redcaps and trolls emerged from their underworld home, all dressed for a night in the seedier part of town.

They grouped together in a lump, all staring up at the flashing sign for Tit-tania's with eyes that were blue, green, yellow, orange, and black. Round and slit pupils widened and contracted at the convenient name. It was all the sign they needed that they were where they needed to be. 

The mortals inside never knew what hit them, especially when gold coins pelted the dancers into fleeing the stage. The elfin maidens that took their place may have been dressed in club wear, but they moved with the grace of the ages-old and whirled around the poles with a fire that no mortal could replicate. Pixies swirled about their heads like sparks of light, so fast that their movements burned a trail of an after-image around the dancers' heads,the streaks mingling with the long hair.  The brownies chugged beer since no ale was available, and trolls watched gaping mortal men out of the corner of their eye. The age of sacrifice and tithe was over, but if one of them reached a grubby hand for a Fae maiden, then they were more than happy to remind the humans why they were unworthy.

Businessmen, young men who were barely out of boyhood, old men with nothing better to do...they all gaped in awe at the display going on around them as the creatures in the audience joined hands and circled the perimeter in a dance as old as time. A particularly mischievous sprite cut off the blasting music and poised itself at the edge of the stage, pipes in hand. The sweet music drew the spurned human women back towards the stage to watch, tears streaming down their face as they viewed the grace that they'd never have. Their human audience stared, unable to reach for wallets. They didn't need to; their admiration was something the celebrating Folk hadn't had for a long, long time. 

Into the night they danced and celebrated, invoking envy, nostalgia, and a heartbreak for the old days. Troll and lawyers guzzled liquor together, brownies hit on strippers jokingly, and all celebrated and danced to the ancient music, enjoying the holiday though most couldn't even remember what it was. 

Just as fast as the Folk had arrived, they disappeared. Leaves were left where their coins had been thrown and none of the club's patrons could rightly remember what had happened or how much time had passed. They only had a strange memory of joy and an even stranger heartbreak of missing something they could not name. 

***

Whew, mission accomplished! As always, you can find me in the following places:

Blog  Facebook  Twitter

Next month I'll be back with another interview!

A Super Sexy Series... That's Also Smart.

One of the most popular series at MMP is our Beauty & the Geek series. What is it about sexy, but somewhat nerdy or geekiness that calls out to us?

According to "Why Dating Geeks and Nerds Pays Off," gives five primary reasons (http://www.geeksugar.com/Why-Dating-Geeks-Nerds-Pays-Off-228844) 

1. 1. While geeks and nerds may be awkward, they’re well-meaning 9 out of 10 times. That smooth dude with the sly grin and the spider hands? Wonder what HIS intentions are... plus, I’ve never had a geek guy not call me when he said he would. Score major points THERE.

2. They’re useful. In this tech-savvy world, it’s great to have a b/f who can make your laptop, desktop, and just about anything else that plugs into a wall behave itself.

3.They’re more romantic than they’re given credit for. Ok true, their idea of romance might be to make up a spiffy web-page with all the reasons why they love you, with links to pics of you and sonnets and such... but hey. It lasts longer than flowers, plus you can show your friends.

4. Due to their neglected status, there are plenty to choose from. You like ‘em tall and slender? There are plenty of geeks/nerds who are. You like ‘em smaller with more meat on their bones? Got that too.

5. They’ve got brains. Come on now, how can intelligence be a bad thing?

Brains, brilliance and bravado about their passionate area, geeks and nerds are perfect mates.  Check out our Geeks in the Beauty & the Geek series today.

My Name is Janet Eckford

By: Janet Eckford

I was asked to write on my life as a creator of titillating prose and really had to think about what I wanted to say. I’m sure all you highbrow connoisseurs of the written word are rolling your eyes at what you assume will possibly be a lengthy diatribe on the finer merits of the Romance Genre. Well, this isn’t that because I’m not that person, I write Erotic Romance for God’s sake. I want it fast, fun and good for everybody at the end. Instead what I’m going to do is open up about two of my favorite subjects, sex and death. I could go into a lengthy introduction into what I’m going to discuss and draw out some
witty comparisons of sex and death, but I’m not. I’m all about just getting to the good parts because sometimes in life, foreplay can be a bit overrated.

Confession #1Sex
Okay, I write Erotic Romance so a confession about sex should be a given, right? Well wrong, so get your mind out of the gutter you naughty little minx and pay attention. I may write about sex, I even talk about it quite a bit, in public, often loudly, but when someone asks me how much sex is in one of my stories I freeze. I liken it to when you are discussing sexual partners with someone and they ask, “So how many people have you been with?” I have these conversations fairly regularly and not because I’m cruising for sexual partners, but because I talk about sex quite a bit, in public, often loudly, more often than not in a bar. It’s like an occupational hazard of being me, and each time I struggle with what to say.

Firstly, because I’m not sleeping with the person and a number is only appropriate when cross checking for possible STDs. Secondly, there really is no right answer to this. “Shit, well…um quite a bit,” or “Shit, well…um not that many,” either way you’re screwed (yeah I’m going to use cheap attempts at double entendre through this whole thing, remember, I write Erotic Romance) because this is your perception of the event. In the end I always give a cheeky smile and just say enough.

What I’ve found when conversing with fans (yeah that’s right, I got some) is enough just doesn’t cut it and I’ve got all this performance anxiety when I write now. Do I need another penetration scene because having the hero go down on the heroine may not just cut it? Damn, what is another way I can describe someone getting fingered because I did that twenty pages back and I don’t want it to seem like I’m getting lazy. I get so wound up that I sometimes think I should just write “sweet” romance where the fade to black is enough for most. Yet, as with most obstacles I face in life I gird my loins and get right
back into the thick of things (okay I guess that was a pretty over the top metaphor, even for me). Sex is sex and at some point I’m going to give just enough for the right person and those that feel that I’ve got too much or too little, well, they can get it elsewhere.

Confession #2Death

I really like killing people. Not literally of course because that would be crazy…snort…and I have this lovely little master’s degree that has taught me all about crazy. Granted when I was a little girl I would lure Black Widow spiders out of their hiding place in my parents garage, drop them in old motor oil and set them on fire, which totally sounds like future serial killer stuff, but what kept me firmly on the other side of not crazy was puppies and kittens. Not dissecting and burying them in my parents backyard, because that would be crazy, no, their fuzzy little bellies and cute little baby yawns…gah…when they try not to fall asleep and do anyway, so cute, just so freaking cute. Setting spiders on fire, plus loving puppies and kittens, equals possibly demented but definitely not crazy. But I digress.

Back to the topic at hand, killing people. Killing people is hard to work into an Erotic Romance though, because people really want hot sex, minimal death and happy endings, but I really think I could make it good for them. Isn’t there something sexy about the macabre? There is the titillation (snort) that comes with coasting along the very edge of danger and wondering if you will pull yourself back in time.

Now imagine if that edge is pumping a six gage full of lead into a particularly nasty villain and having celebratory sex in their racy sports car you and the (insert hero/heroine of choice) confiscated as you fled the scene of the crime. There would be black leather and…oh yeah a sword. Someone has to have a sword and…um…did I say black leather already? Anyhoo, take my word for it; killing people can be really sexy and if you give me a chance I know you’ll like it.

If you are at all intrigued by my ramblings and what to see what proper editing and someone to tell me, “Um, I think that is too much” looks like, check out my work at Mocha Memoirs Press. There is definately sex and though I haven’t killed anyone yet, just give me time…in a literary way because putting in writing an attempt to harm someone in real life would be crazy and…snort…I’m so not crazy.

Ten Lessons That Star Trek Can Teach You About Writing

Michael LaRocca is not only an extremely talented editor at Mocha Memoirs Press. He's also an extremely talented author. Check out his latest release, Lazarus: A Gary Drake Mystery. It's availabe in print and e-book formats. Get a copy today and see how Michael uses these 10 lessons himself.

Michael describes below how Star Trek can teach you a lot about writing.


1) Readers Matter
In the first STAR TREK film, Gene Roddenberry finally had the budget to create all the footage he wanted of ENTERPRISE just sitting there, looking real purty, and by gum he was gonna use it all. I personally don’t mind watching all those minutes, 22 or 187 or whatever it was, but most folks think that’s too much. If most of your readers say something needs to be changed or added or deleted, listen to them.

2) Characters Matter
 When the second pilot was filmed, it was already pre-ordained that William Shatner was the star. Since Spock was the only character from the first pilot to also appear in the second pilot, it was safe to assume Leonard Nimoy was a costar. Who else? Well, McCoy and the chemistry just kinda happened.

When I write, character comes first, and plot etc. unfold from there. Even if you start from some other place, character always matters. In the end, nothing happens unless it happens to somebody, and that somebody is who your reader cares about regardless of species.

When you write, have some sort of plan, and have some control, but be flexible. If your story’s telling you to go in a certain direction, listen to it. That might be your characters talking to you. (And yes, I know you made them all up. Don’t bother me with details.)

3) Turn Weaknesses into Strengths
 I can’t remember if I wrote about this in CONUNDRUM or ENIGMA, so be safe and read both. Why did ENTERPRISE have a transporter? Because it wasn’t in the TV show’s budget to film launch and landing sequences for shuttlecraft on various and sundry new planets every week. This forced the writers to invent the transporter, and that’s some seriously cool shit. STAR TREK wouldn’t be STAR TREK without it.

4) Fuck Grammar
Okay, not really. Speaking as your editor, please don’t fuck grammar. But you can break any rule you want if you have a good reason. Try to never break a rule from ignorance. But if you’ve got a reason, go for it. That’s how we as authors change the language.

Why did Shakespeare invent 10% of the words he used? Because if he’d invented 20% or 50% he’d have confused too many of his viewers.

Meanwhile, the “rule” about splitting infinitives is totally bogus. “To boldly go” is a perfectly good English phrase. In Latin, it isn’t possible to split an infinitive because “to go” (for example) is one word. You can’t write “to boldly go” in Latin because “to go” is only one word. Someone decided English grammar should follow Latin grammar — that sounds like some of Noah Webster’s shit — and was soundly shouted down for being too stupid to live. Feel free to boldly split infinitives like James Brown split tight pants. Then jump back and kiss yourself.

5) Wishful Thinking Is Allowed
In the STAR TREK future, everybody quotes long passages of Shakespeare from memory. If I say it like that, it might sound hard to believe, but in the context of the STAR TREK world, it fits. It’s allowed. Dammit, people should quote Shakespeare from memory, just like that cockatiel I taught when his humans were away. I never could teach him context, though.

6) It’s Not About The Money
Okay, sometimes it was about the money. But in roughly two years of the original show and roughly ten years of Next Generation, it wasn’t about the money. In some of the films, including some of the stinkers, it wasn’t about the money.

I’ve always said that you should write what you’d like to read, then find readers who share your interests. Yep, that’s what Gene Roddenberry did. He believed in world peace, racial and gender integration, trying to shake off old prejudices to the best of our limited abilities, freedom of religion and non-religion, gay rights, cooperation rather than killing, the Prime Directive of non-interference in viable developing cultures, war as a last and not a first resort, and seeing just how much political and religious commentary he could slip past the censors, who weren’t as bright as the average STAR TREK viewer.

Did he really believe in the cashless society? If a “credit” or a “quatloo” walks like a dollar bill and quacks like a dollar bill… oh, wait, that’s not Roddenberry, that’s Terrell Owens. Never mind.

7) YOU Are The WriterRemember when I said to listen to your readers? That doesn’t mean you have to always agree with them. When Gene Roddenberry’s vision put him at odds with the majority, he went with his vision. We should all do that. Such judgment calls are what separate the great writers from the merely ordinary. And to pull all that off within the confines of a 1960s TV show is nothing short of extraordinary. You could do far worse than to follow his example.

8 ) Choose Your Battles
That’s what Roddenberry had to do every time he butted heads with TV executives. It’s what I do as an author when I disagree with my editor, and what I expect an author to do when I’m his or her editor. “I’ll say Starfleet pays its officers in credits if you let the white guy kiss the black girl.” Or whatever.

9) Too Many Sequels Can Sour Anything
I shouldn’t end on such a downer, should I? Too bad. But at least Paramount waited for Roddenberry to die before they destroyed what he created.

10) Posterity Matters
How long has it been since Captain Kirk first flexed those biceps and paused in funny places during his speechifying? It’s been over 40 or 45 years since Roddenberry started writing STAR TREK, and we’re still talking about it. That’s what we write for. I don’t want you to love my shit now and forget it tomorrow. A novel is not a damn blog or a tweet. Write something timeless. Something to piss off future generations the way it does your immediately family, something teachers can torture students with, something that just will not fucking die.

What is Mocha Memoirs? The Significance of the Name.

by Nicole Givens Kurtz
Owner/Publisher-Mocha Memoirs Press, LLC

As our second anniversary launches, I would like to answer what on the surface appears to be a simple question, but in more complexity, isn’t a simple one at all.

What is Mocha Memoirs?

Are we an erotic romance publishing house? Are we a science fiction, horror, and fantasy publishing house? Do we self publish? Do we make authors pay for publication? What—and who—are we exactly?

Mocha Memoirs Press is an electronic publishing house focused on producing quality commercial fiction in the genres of romance, science fiction, fantasy, and horror. Those genres are very broad, and as such, we accept subgenres within those as well. For example, an erotic romance set in the future, or a horror romance story that ends with a Happy Ever After.

To put it plainly, we like—and publish, great stories, regardless of the labeling.

The only absolute rule is we do not publish non-fiction, hate filled works, or erotic romance that includes bestiality, golden showers, rape, or anything we deem degrading.

So, one question I often get when I meet readers at conventions is why Mocha Memoirs, especially when we don’t even publish memoirs?

Again, the answer is pretty simple. I like alliteration. Most importantly, late one night in 1998 when I was looking for a title to call my electronic magazine of short fiction and poetry, I wanted something that spoke to others like me—a creative African American woman. Although the stories aren’t personal memoirs per se, each story an author tells carries hallmarks of the individual who wrote it, and thus memoirs.

No great mystery. Just a woman with a goal to produce quality works and a mad obsession with good stories. Mocha Memoirs is an outlet for authors to connect to readers.

Enough said.

Makeover from the Inside Out

Bestselling author, Serenity King, discusses her new plan to turnover a new leaf. Resolutions aren't just for January. June is a time for renewal as well. Check out Serenity's dedicaton to her work in Beauty & the Geek: Princess and the Professor.
===========================================================
Makeover from the inside out: A 90 day journey to a healthier me on the inside out.

by Serenity King

Most young women and women are constantly in a battle to compete with society’s norms of what the “perfect” woman/girl should look like. Well, I am doing this to concentrate on a healthier me. This  is NOT a diet, rather a journey to feeling good and making the way I eat and think a way of life…lifestyle changes.

Each day I will start out with a scripture or a quote of inspiration to get started, and then I will post daily throughout on what I did to rejuvenate my mind and body.

I will LOVE for you to join me on my journey to a healthier me. If anyone has anything to add each day,
just chime in and post a comment. My mornings start early so here we go. *Pause* I actually started this
on Saturday, and then it came to me to post my daily adventure into healthiness for others to see.
What we as a people need to understand is that we come in all different shapes, sizes, and textures. Yes,
I said textures. Last year, I read a book by Nicole Givens-Kurtz, and I believe the name of the book was
A Complete Woman. This book dealt with women and the different personalities as well as issues that
each had. A Great book. A must read (IMO).

Textures as in personalities:
Some are what I would refer to as “Wool”. Why? Wool is heavy, strong, and keeps you warm in the
winter months. Now some people are allergic to wool, but that’s okay it doesn’t mean that wool is not
liked it just mean that certain people can’t tolerate it in some forms. But notice there is still a need for
wool. A strong personality.

Cotton: Now everybody in the World uses something or has something with cotton in it. I believe cotton
is the most used fabric around the world, Lol. Why? It’s soft and fluffy…good to the touch. And you
know what it’s pretty sturdy. However, you do have some cotton the shrinks—can’t stand-up under the
pressure. It appears strong, but it too has its limits.

Linen: I love linen, but you know what. Linen wrinkles always. Once you put it on after a few minutes
it looks as if it needs another round with the iron (grin). Still lovely…just need a few minor adjustments
along the way. The same with people—might have a few flaws, but lovely still the same.

Silk: Now we have “Silk”: Silk…soft to the touch—has to be treated gently. Dry clean only or hand washed.
Some people need a tender/gentle touch or approach. Handle silk with care.

So you see people. We all come in different shapes, sizes and personalities…just need handling a little
differently that’s all. With materials, there’s a warning label or care label attached to the material
instructing on how to care for that material. Most of time if you do not follow the instructions careful
something is going to go awry with the material. It’s same with people. Don’t just judge…if you can learn
the person and treat them accordingly.

Okaaaay let’s start this train ride to a healthier me/you. Will join me?

ALL ABOARD!!! THE TRAIN IS GETTING READY TO PULL OUT OF THE STATION.

CHOOO CHOOO!!!

Whoever joins in on my ride must say "Choo Choo."

My goal is 90 days and to lose at least 10 pounds and clear my mind for writing. My journaling will start
tonight.

Peace and Blessings!
~Serenity
http://serenitykingexpressions.blogspot.com

We are proud to feature some of our favorite authors doing what they do best: drawing us in, filling us with emotion, and taking us on an adventure.

So to kick things off, we'll start with a woman who publicly addresses herself as 

"the carebear of debauchery", Janet Eckford.

Carbon Copy.

Janet Eckford

  ©2011

            Jackson finished typing in the last of the schematics for the research he and his team were working on. Rolling his shoulders he looked briefly over at the clock and realized it was getting late. Pulling up an image of the kitchen he could see Georgia putting the finishing touches on his dinner. Smiling he thought about how much better this model was than his last prototype. She’d far surpassed what his team had expected when they’d developed the newest Artificial Intelligence chip. Sal had also out done himself with her artificial skin. They’d found that creating the dark hues of pigment were difficult to replicate with the experimental synthetic skin they’d created but Georgia’s glowed with a health and vitality that would fool the most discerning eye.

              When he and his colleagues debuted her next month he knew that people would be astounded. Some information was leaked and they’d needed to do some major PR work to clean up the mess of misinformation. Scowling as he powered down his computer he thought about all of the jokes about their project that had developed in their professional social circles. If he had to tell one more person that he wasn’t making the perfect sex toy he’d scream.

            Of course detractors were going to point out that the contours to which they modeled Georgia were suspect from a purely scientific aspect. Gathering up his paperwork and putting it in a pile he left it for Georgia to file away for him. What people didn’t understand was they were scientists and the quest for perfection was inherent to who they were. It would be ridiculous to create an AI Droid and have her look just like an average woman. Snorting he thought what a waste that would be. He and his team had spent hours in the design phase making sure that each angle and line of her body was perfect. It was hard work and all those naysayers were going to have to eat crow when she walked out on stage at the convention next month.

            The sound of his growling stomach brought him out of his reverie. Patting his protruding stomach he turned and walked out of his home office. Because of the leak he’d decided to bring Georgia home instead of keeping her in the laboratory. As the lead scientist on the project he felt it was his duty to make sure their investment was protected and it also provided an opportunity for analysis of how she functioned outside of a lab setting. The other men had been initially hesitant but, smiling to himself, Jackson thought that was one of the perks of being in charge.

            Following the tantalizing aromas of the dinner Georgia had cooked for him he walked into the kitchen. He couldn’t help the little surge of awareness that went through his body as he looked at her. Thoughts of last night reared to the front of his brain and he could feel a blush blossoming on his cheeks. He’d really had no interest in testing her sexual responses but the self-learning software they’d installed in her caused her to be very curious. She’d been insatiable since she’d learned what sex was. Jackson still didn’t know how he’d explain it to his colleagues but he’d have to cross that bridge when he got to it.

            “Oh, Jackson you startled me,” Georgia said with the husky breathy voice Jerry had programed her with.

            Pushing a wayward curl from her forehead she smiled over at him before she turned and pulled the lasagna she’d made from the oven. Looking at how her jeans hugged the firm muscles of her body he felt his body harden in anticipation. The smile she gave him over her shoulder caused him to move in her direction and gather her in his arms for a kiss. The feel of her soft lips on his caused him to sigh with happiness.

            Perfect. Just perfect he thought.

            “Food first,” she said breaking the kiss and moving away.

            Giving her another soft peck he turned and gathered up some of the food she’d prepared for him and walked into the dining room. He’d always eaten in the tiny breakfast nook in his kitchen but Georgia had been adamant that he’d start using the dining room instead. He smiled to himself when he thought about how she said it was the right thing to do. She must have picked it up in one of those women’s magazines she devoured.

            Placing the food on the table he sat down and started spooning food on his plate. Looking up he smiled as she watched him expectantly. He told her numerous times that her cooking was superb but she was always a little anxious about the fact she couldn’t taste it herself. He’d promised her that once they’d gotten other bugs worked out that he and his team would put that on their list of things to accomplish. Smiling around his fork he remembered just how she’d thanked him after his declaration. Making the appropriate noises of appreciation as he ate he took a sip of wine and continued to finish his meal. Placing his fork next to his plate he felt a wave of fatigue hit him.

            “You look tired Jackson,” Georgia said in a soothing tone.

            Opening his mouth to respond he responded with a jaw-cracking yawn. His eyes felt extremely heavy that he could barely keep them open long enough to look at Georgia. Moving to get out of his chair he felt as if his body was too heavy to even move. Leaning back he realized that taking a quick nap in the chair was probably the best thing to do.

            “I think I’m just going to doze for a bit,” he said before he was compelled to yawn again.

            “I can carry you to bed,” she replied leaning over to caress his hand.

            “I don’t need you to do that,” Jackson said with a frown.

            They’d done some work with her strength and she could definitely lift him, even with the extra pounds he had, but he did have some pride. He didn’t like the idea of his woman carrying him. Settling back in his chair with a smile, he wondered where that came from. He was going to have to be careful to not say that around his colleagues. They were already jealous of the bond he had with Georgia. Yawning once more as his eyes became to heavy to keep open Jackson thought about how great it was that his woman was just so perfect.

***

            Jackson woke with a start and for the briefest of moments was disoriented by his surroundings. Sitting up he realized that he was in his room, in his own bed, even though he told Georgia to leave him in the dining room. Scowling he swung his legs over the bed and walked through the dark room to his bathroom. His bladder felt like someone was tap dancing on it. Relieving himself he went to the sink to wash his hands and looked at himself in the mirror.

            He noticed that he looked like shit, not that he was going to win any Mr. Universe contest anytime soon but he definitely looked bad. His skin was sallow with huge dark circles under his eyes. Now that he had Georgia he was really going to have to step up his game. Running a hand through his oily hair he thought it might be time to get a gym membership. Even though he was a pretty tall guy it was obvious he could stand to loose a few pounds. Okay more than a few he thought turning to the side and sucking in his stomach. When it started to growl he smirked and thought that tonight wasn’t going to be the day he started though.

            Heading out of the bathroom back into his bedroom he grabbed his robe by the bed. Georgia had stripped him down to a t-shirt and boxers and he didn’t really want to go wondering around the house in them. Walking out of his room and down the hall Jackson headed toward the kitchen. Pilfering the refrigerator for ingredients to make a sandwich he placed the items on the kitchens island. Turning to the sink he began to run water to wash the tomato he was going to use when he looked out the window and noticed the lights on in the tiny building that housed his home laboratory. Turning the water off he began to frown.

            He couldn’t think what Georgia would be doing in the laboratory this late at night. Putting the tomato down on the counter he headed toward the back door. Opening the door and heading out into the night he stepped gingerly on the grass wet from dew. Once at the building he went to open the door but pause when he heard voices. Feeling his heart begin to speed up he wondered if one of his team had shown up while he was sleeping. He hadn’t actually seen his colleagues since he brought Georgia home. The project was mostly finalized and it made sense for them all to work remotely.

            Looking over at the control panel he reached over and began doing a system check. His code had been used to get inside. The only person beside himself that had it was Georgia. It was specifically configured to allow whomever that used it access to all of the system functions in the building. Scrolling through the menu he accessed schematics of the room. The computer was reading two people inside, one male and one female. Pushing down a ball of rage building inside of him Jackson had to take a deep breath.

            One of those suspicious bastards had come over while he was out and probably ordered Georgia to let him into the lab. They’d all installed voice activated commands in her programming system and could get her to do as they wished. Jackson knew that once he got her home he should have uninstalled all voice commands but his own. Typing in his backup code that allowed him to access the building without being detected he quietly opened the door. He could hear the melodious sounds of Georgia’s voice and a deeper male one. The males voice sounded familiar but he just couldn’t place it. He didn’t think it was Sal’s or Jerry’s. Walking further into the laboratory he followed the voices toward the back where he kept lab hospital.

            Creeping forward silently he paused when he saw Georgia sitting astride the man, rocking to a rhythm he was all too familiar of. He felt his chest tighten with rage at the thought of one of those bastards making her do what was only for the two of them. Because of his angle he still couldn’t see the man’s face but from what he could tell he was taller than Jerry. He looked about Jackson’s height, which meant it could only be Sal. When the reached up and placed his hands on Georgia’s hips to guide her movements, Jackson stood and watched in silent horror as Georgia’s back arched and she let out a breathy moan of release.

            She never made a noise like that with him. He was the only one that was supposed to give her pleasure. Through the haze of red his vision had become he watched as she leaned down and kissed the other man and purred with contentment. Having had enough Jackson stepped further into the room and made his presence known.

            “Get your hands off of her,” he growled out.

            If he wasn’t so angry he might have found the image of Georgia and the other man scrabbling to untangle their bodies amusing. Until he finally got a good look at the man and felt his entire body freeze. Now that he saw whom it was he knew why a tickle of familiarity pricked at his brain when he heard the voice and saw the body, it was Jackson. Well not him exactly as he looked now but a “him” that would be Jackson if he were perfect. Staring in shocked in fascination at his “other” he watched as his clone assessed him.

            “Jackson, you’re supposed to be asleep,” Georgia said in a chiding tone.

            He had no response as he watched his clone pull up pants over his narrowed hips. Still not breaking eye contact with Jackson his clone pulled a t-shirt over his head and covered the defined muscles of his chest and abs. There was almost a morbid curiosity looking at him made in this image.

            “How…I don’t…” he stuttered finally looking over at Georgia.

            She’d pulled on a light sundress while he was staring at his clone and stood there with her arms crossed over her chest and her lips pursed. She looked furious and he felt his own anger respond in kind. He didn’t know how this had happened but if it was what his brain was starting to slowly work out he was the one to be angry.

            “Babe, I told you he’d find out eventually,” his clone said reaching over to gently squeeze Georgia’s shoulder.

            “But I wasn’t ready yet, where not ready yet,” she responded with a forlorn look.

            “Don’t worry, it’ll still work out,” his clone said gathering her to his body in a side hug.

            Jackson felt his mouth opening and closing in disbelief. This wasn’t how this project was supposed to go. He was the creator not his creation. Moving toward Georgia he paused when his clone took a protective step in his direction. The harden look on the AI Droids face and the bunching of his muscles made Jackson reevaluate the situation.

            “Georgia, power down. Command 3489,” Jackson stated with a great deal of authority.

            Waiting, he watched in horror as Georgia sighed with resignation and shook her head. Repeating his order he felt beads of sweat form on his brow. That was the fail safe he and his team built into the model incase of any malfunctions. She should have powered down, leaving him to have to worry about the clone she’d created.

            “I uninstalled that function and quite a few others awhile ago, Jackson. I knew I should have put more of that sleep agent in your food. This is really going to mess with my timetable,” she sighed again as she turned to the table at her side. Lifting a syringe she checked the dosage before she turned back to him.

            “That’s not possible. We…I mean I…” Jackson trailed off as he watched Georgia and his clone exchange a look.

            “Oh Jackson,” Georgia said sadly, “Computer, lock down facilities. Command 7839.”

            “Lock down commencing,” the computers automated voice responded.

            “This isn’t happening,” Jackson said to no one in particular as he watched the two AI Droids staring back at him.

            It was one of the last thoughts he had before they’d wrestled him to the ground and stuck the syringe in him. The other, “But it was all so perfect.” 

The End

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If you like Janet's short story, feel free to grab a copy of her two MMP titles, BEAUTY & THE GEEK: I HEART GEEKS and STILL ANOTHER DAY.

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MochaNote:  Janet Scares the SugarHoneyIcedTea out of Drea  

looking for more Janet? Find her here http://janeteckford.blogspot.com

New Beauty & the Geek Title: Hidden Depths by Reana Malori

We’re pleased to announce the publication of another fantastic story in our Beauty & the Geek series. Talented interracial author, Reana Malori, has penned a fun and sensual story of beauty and geekdom in Beauty & the Geek: Hidden Depths. 

Blurb: Roxanne Barnes is beautiful, but a certified klutz. Adam Marshall is a recovering jock and who now proudly proclaims his geek status from the highest mountain. At a conference full of people who have alphabet soup letters behind their names, two former high school classmates realize you cannot always judge a book by its cover. The beautiful, but shy wallflower who transformed into a butterfly and the confident jock that morphed into a certified geek find passion and desire in each other’s arms.

Will they find that once just isn’t enough as they explore what’s hidden beneath the surface?

End Blurb.

Grab a copy today!