Damn, I'm late

I totally forgot my spot on the 21st but I have a good excuse...life. I was in the middle of traveling for work and it's as if my brain goes on hiatus when it comes to things not work related. Although I have a largish head, it can only house so much at a time. I think that's the crux of the parttime writer experience. I'd love to be able to devote all of my time to writing and the little extras that go along with it being my full time gig, but I also love paying my mortgage and eating three meals a day (okay several meals a day because food is life!). So I'm late, but I'm not absent, and know that while my brain is bogged down with the many intricate details of my non-writer life, my imagination is patiently taking notes for when it has free reign again.

Sexy is as sexy does

I've been contemplating what makes a person sexy. I've gotten a rush of inspiration that has seen me crafting contemporary romances that are short and sweet. Yet, I find myself with a particular conundrum when it comes to writing sexy characters in this genre of romance. 

Let me explain. When I write paranormal romance I feel as if "sexy" is right out there in the open due to the nature of the character. If the person is outherwordly, their sex appeal can be tied in with that aspect of the character. A male wolf shifter can "prowl", "growl", and do a whole host of things that are indicative of his animal half that position him within the archetype of a sexy "alpha". My female characters can exhibit a type of sexuality that is more visceral than what I feel a regular mundane woman is allowed. 

In a contemporary romance I feel I'm always working against what the preconceived notions of appropriate sexual expression is for the gender of my characters. I want the same sexy alpha for my hero that doesn't sprout fur and claws, without him appearing like a creepy batterer. I want a female heroine that owns her sexuality and exudes sex appeal without getting locked into the dreded "promiscuous" box that women of the "real" world often get put into.

I want sexy to not just be about the "sex" of the sex appeal. I want sexy to be about the witty mind and clever conversation of my characters. I want it to be that thing that is hard to describe but you instantly know it when you see it. I want it seems, the intangible quality that one experiences when all those factors come together without explanation or purpose. I want it all, in a finite amount of words, and I want it to be believable. 

It's a large task, and I'll confess I'm missing my characters ability to flash a little fang, or have a growl of desire rumble up from their chest, but I'm determined to make this happen. After all, the norms can be damn sexy too.

Better late than never

It seems I was so wrapped up in Summer Solstice that I forgot to blog yesterday. My apologies. I'd promise I won't do it again, but I've learned to never make promises I can't keep. ;) I can say I did have a lovely day yesterday that resulted in a few tears. Now I know that may seem odd but these were actually good tears and I have Selah Janel to thank for them. She posted about the character Susan from the Narnia books on her Facebook wall and a dissatisfaction with the characters story progression that echoed one I'd always held. Awhile back I'd stumbled upon this post that took all of that dissatisfaction and gave it an outlet to be reborn into something beautiful.

I think that's what I enjoy about being a writer. I can take narratives of women's experiences and give them the endings I feel most connected to. They can be strong, vulnerable, sexy, virtuous, and any other host of things I find appealing. I can make them imperfectly perfect, the way I'd always viewed Susan. It's a heady sensation and I'll confess that I do let the power go to my head. Because, if I'm not retelling the stories of women's experiences the way I want, I leave it to other's to write more Susan's.

Let me tell you something

I've been invited to speak in a friend and colleagues college course on Human Sexuality about the romance genre (erotic romance in particular) and I'm ecstatic. I had grandiose plans of having goodies to hand out and possibly a costume to wear (because I always want to wear some kind of costume), but inevitably life looked me up and down and laughed hysterically, gasping out between chuckles, "Bless your heart." I was able to create a PowerPoint and still consider myself victorious to some degree.

As with my other grandiose ideas my vision for my guest lecture hasn't quite met the pinnacle of historical reference and research validity I'd planned, BUT I was able to avoid the dreded trap of justifying the genre with more than, "It's not porn!". I'm actually so tired of this disclaimer because I feel it automatically puts me in a defense to justify the importance of women (as the majority of the genres readers are) having an outlet to explore and embrace they're sexuality. I of course had to include some aspect of it because as these students are a reflection of larger society's beliefs regarding sex and sexuality it can't be avoided. 

I'm hoping that we'll have frank and direct conversations about erotic romance and why it scares the mainstream so much. Because frankly, I can only think of fear as being a motivator for the constant barrage of distasteful comments readers and writers of erotic romance receive. I often feel there is a subconscious thought of, "Kill it with fire!", when it comes to the genre I find myself writing in. Regardless of how one may feel personally about Fifty Shades of Gray, it did provide us a look into the pysche of society when it comes to their beliefs regarding women's expression and consumption of sex. 

I've got all of these great plans for my lecture that is founded in my belief that romance and all of it's sub genres shouldn't be the black sheep of fiction, made to feel like the gaudy relation that is invited to the table because of the wealth it brings but never truly respected. I've got those grandiose plans you see, and I'm giving life some major side eye as it smirks at me, but bless my little heart because I'm going to try my best anyway.

I'm in the mood for love

I'm in the mood for love. I need some "Happy Ever Afters", witty dialogue, and sexy time. I'd like these things to be set in a contemporary world, that doesn't involve swords, claws, or fur. I want a smoking hot hero with a dry wit and clever mind. I want my heroine to mirror him in all of these attributes but have a special sparkle all her own. 

I've started making a list of all of these needs and wants. Who knows, maybe I'll stop looking for what I need and write what I want. 

Hook, line, and sinker...

I like to think of myself as an eclectic writer. The muses that keep me company whisper plots that are varied and at times very complicated. When I sit down to craft a story I like for it to be exciting, for it to have a hook that draws a reader in. Once I've hooked them I need to keep them on the line and in an effort to finish this strange analogy I've chosen, sink them into the very fabric of the story. As dialogue and scenes swirl in my head I try desperately to fit the pieces together so they have some semblance of coherence. It doesn't always work out that way, but I do keep trying, and eventually it all comes together (at least for me).

For 2014 I want to cast that hook out even further in hopes my line will stretch as far as my imagination has yet to reach. I want folks to sink into a story that leaves them with bated breath and the need to flip back to the beginning of the sentence, paragraph or page because they can't believe what they just read is true. I want all of this and more, but what I hope for most is that I never find that wanting is far more pleasing than having.

A New Year for New Adventures

Happy New Year from Mocha Memoirs Press, LLC. The last year, 2013, saw a lot of daring adventures and sizzling stories brimming with love, mystery, and horror. 

Through it all, we could not have done it without you. Our readers are the sugar cookie to our Mocha. Without it, the coffee just isn’t as sweet. So, to that end, we thank you!

Going forward, we have many things in store. Starting with next month’s Women in Horror anthology, The Grotesquerie. Our talented horror editor, Eden Royce, is already reading submissions for yet another hair-raising collection of deliciously frightening stories. If you missed last year’s In The Bloodstream, it’s still available in print and e-book versions.

Our romance writers are actively creating hot, erotic stories of love as we speak. We’re currently looking for witch stories, so if you are a writer, think about submitting something to us. See our submission guidelines for more information. We invite you to join us on our new adventures. This month we’re spotlighting all of our .99 titles. They're a sampling of our science fiction, horror, and romance. Naomi Jones'  Vampire Angels is actually three stories in one.

 

  

Here comes the sun...

Winter has come and today for Winter Solstice I have so many things to reflect on and be thankful for as I go into the new year. I've never been a winter months lover (even though I'm a winter baby) and enjoy the warmer climate of spring and summer days. Yet, this year I feel particularly grounded in the mythos of this day and eagerly await the magic of this night. 

At work we prepped for the new year with an activity that required us to list things we plan to commit to personally and professional. The accountability of the commitment is not housed soley on the individual's shoulders but the collective takes part in making sure one reaches their goals. I invite you all to take some time do the same for yourself as the night is long and dark and we wait eagerly for the sun to return to is once more.

Personal commitment activity:

Materials

1 piece of blank paper

Pens, markers and any and all crafty things you enjoy 

Instructions

Fold the paper in half. On one side write, "I commit to improve personally" and on the other write, "I commit to improve professionally". Write out words, thoughts  and/or actions for both. You can decorate your paper as little or as extravagantly as you want. As this will be a tool to hold yourself accountable for what you've written the rest of the year, make sure your words are legible. Once finished put it somewhere you can see it and others as well. Be honest with yourself because magic only happens when you believe!

On the downswing.

I'm working really hard to sustain the high I felt at the close of October and the start of November. Plots were a thickening and words were a flowing. I had so many ideas trapped in my (fairly) large head, I didn't think I'd ever stop. As often happens with my high standard of optimism life came in and said, "Go sit yourself down". It is the unfortunate consequence of being a part-time writer with aspirations of full time productivity. In the past I'd feel a bit discouraged, languish in my pile of forgotten WIPs until the example of my "failure" was too much I wouldn't open a word document for ages. This time things are different. It is possibly because I'm too tired to feel discouraged or (as my ever present optimism perks up) I may have finally reached a place where down time is good time because I'm not a factory churning out story after story.

Whatever it is, I'm going to coast this feeling for a bit. Give myself a breather, because when it passes I'm coming out strong and ready to DO THIS....pa-pa-pa-POW!

Blurbs of Horrors: Whispers in the Dark by Janet Eckford

Ha! I bet you thought that was it, didn't you? Not so fast, fear fans...there's some new titles to sink your fangs into....

Amazon   MMP Store   

The floorboards squeak but you aren’t moving, there’s a fleeting caress across your shoulder but you’re alone, a light rapping on your window and yet, there is no rain. These are whispers in the dark. Delve inside a world where intuition is key and negligent dismissal can cost one their life.

Thirteen tales of encounters that will make you question if everything is as it seems. Thirteen tales that will make you just a little more conscious of that stranger on the street, that scratching at your backdoor, that telltale silence in your home…

The question of sex.

I was intrigued by a quote I saw on Facebook;

"Sex" is not the answer. Sex is the question. "Yes" is the answer.

As a person that writes quite a bit of sexy time in her work I'm always asked, "Why sex?" To which I want to reply, "Why not?" Why does it have to be such a taboo as a writer that I've said yes to sex? I mean after all, when done right and with consent, sex is a marvelous thing. I mean, a life changing experience, that can turn a frown into a smile...no really, I've had some frowny face moments and WHAM, a little sexy time makes everything better. The best part of sex is I don't actually have to be doing it to enjoy it. A little bit of titillation (giggle) between the pages of a well told story can but me in the loveliest of moods.

As a writer when sex is the question rather than the answer, I feel it makes my story that much better. I don't just write sex because that isn't very interesting to me. I want a story, a narrative that transport me to another world, where I see the subtle intricacies of how one is desired and desires. Lust and Love can be bedmates in this tale or silent observers that each have a role, separate from the other. Sex as a question can be whispered very softly, purred against the soft shell of a sensitive ear, or declared rather boldly with a well placed word. Sex as a question isn't the only one but when asked I want the character to want to say yes, over and over again.

So, yes, sex please.

Janet

Dark Mocha Bite Celebration Begins: Into the Realm of Mystery and Night

October's month long DARK MOCHA BITES celebration delivers the best we have in dark, delicious horror and dark paranormal romance.

To start, Mocha Memoirs Press invites you to come with us Into the Realm of Mystery and Night, courtesy of talented, multi-genre author, Janet Eckford. This month we're celebrating our DARK MOCHA BITES. These stories are all around the horror genre.

Blurb:It’s hard for me to pick a time in my life when I haven’t enjoyed the thrill of a good scare. The heady anticipation of the adrenaline rush, the heart beating faster, and the prickly feel of tiny hairs on the back of my neck standing on end.

This “scare” is of course always controlled and contained. I don’t seek out fear just for the thrill of it but when I read a particularly scary story or watch an especially frightening movie, I am in love with how that narrative is causing my senses to go in overdrive. This collection of shorts is inspired by that feeling and housed within the context of one of my favorite holidays, Halloween. Each day you have the
opportunity to read a story that will hopefully have you checking under the bed each night or sleeping with at least one light on. My greatest wish for you is that by the 31st day of October, you too will revel in all things that go bump in the night and bounce with anticipation waiting for next year’s delights.

Think you're ready to follow Janet into the Realm of Mystery and Night? Download the key here.

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.

July is about to get HOTTER. MMP Celebration!

Readers!
Next month is Mocha Memoirs Press’s anniversary. To celebrate, we’re going to GIVE away prizes instead of getting gifts. We invite you to join us in the festivities. See below for details.

31 Days of Give Aways
Each day Mocha Memoirs Press will select a member from our Mocha Memoirs Press Cafe Yahoo Group. You must be able to answer some trivia question (psst totally easy too) about MMP. Daily Winner gets a prize. All 31 winners’ names are put into a raffle and one grand prize winner will receive a gift card to Amazon worth $25.00.

To join the MMP Cafe, go here: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/mochamemoirspresscafe/join

31 Days of Steamy Mocha $1.00 shots
For the month of July 2012 only, we’re offering our steamy mocha shots for $1.00. These erotic or steamy romances are powerful packs of deliciousness. Stories from bestselling authors, Tysche Dwai, Billy London, RaeLynn Blue, and Nikki Winter just to name a few will be available.

After 7/31/12, the promotional price will end and these succulent stories will go back to their original prices. All of the stories are brand new. You can’t get these steamy shots before 7/1/12. Our blog will post what sweet sinfulness is available each Friday and Saturday in July. Available at http://mochamemoirspress.com.

31 Days of Mocha Spotlights
You’ll want to visit this blog to see what’s new. Every single day in July will have a new blog by guests authors, editors and the owner of MMP. You’ll learn about intimacy, how to be a better writer, what drives character development, and more. Some of our authors have penned short stories just for the blog and our anniversary. You’ll want to subscribe to our blog to stay up to date. Also, this is where we’ll post new $1.00 Mocha shots and winners of our 31 One a Day Giveaway

Of course, there’s so much more. Chats, yahoo groups takeovers and more. Join us in the festivities.
Get started here: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/mochamemoirspresscafe/join

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