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About the author:
E.C. Towers is an erotic fiction novelist who writes for the pleasure of women and men from her lounge chair in a quiet coastal community on the shores of central California. She writes for The Richest, The Bolde, The Mid, and was a contributing assistant editor for Playboy’s Smoking Jacket.
What inspired you to write your book?
I have always loved the erotic genre, and moving to the California coast last year opened my imagination to the events happing down in the marina I can now see in the distance. The cool ocean breeze, a fire ring lit throughout the evening, my new laptop letting my fingers fly, and a bottle of delicious wine from the little vineyard down the road all convinced Linda St. John to whisper these stories in my ear. Also, my sweet dog, Bear, who never misses an opportunity to snuggle during sunset. I couldn’t write anything without him keeping my feet warm.
Here is a short sample from the book:
Linda sat down at her usual table in Edges, located in the corner next to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out over the town and the Pacific Ocean. It was the perfect seat for her. Isolated and private. Word was sent to the kitchen that she was there, and that it was time to step it up a notch. The food had to be just to her liking, the water had to be just the right temperature, and the waiters had to provide top-notch service while simultaneously remaining invisible. Linda herself had never demanded it to be this way, but with the amount of influence and money that she had, these luxuries went without being said.
She sat there and tried not to think of Hardie working in the back, washing dishes in a too-small white shirt that was probably damp and clinging to his wide, solid chest.
“I’m sure you can’t help but agree, isn’t that correct, Mrs. St. John?”
“I’m sorry… uh, what?” she blinked her eyes rapidly, trying to erase the enticing visual of a wet Hardie. She caught up on the conversations with the guests at her table and engaged in the usual small talk of weather, politics and business. Always with the business. No matter if the conversation was about mountain lions in Africa, somehow, some way, in two sentences, it would be brought back to business. The business of making more money. Linda wondered if any of these greedy old fucks her husband used to work with had gotten any of their wrinkly dicks sucked in the past year. She was pretty sure their young, 20ish-year-old, trophy wives were at home right now, bouncing on the pool boy’s cock like a trampoline.
She did get a little kick out of how easy they were. They proudly boasted about being able to wheel and deal; however, all Linda had to do was show a little cleavage and give them a suggestive stare to get them to agree on whatever she wanted. These idiots were hard up and pathetic. Nothing like Hardie.
Damn it. She just couldn’t get him out of her mind. And just as she was getting ready to excuse herself to the restroom, she saw him standing in front of her. At first glance, he looked like just any other waiter, handing her a fresh glass of water. Upon closer inspection, she saw that he wasn’t wearing a white button-up shirt like the other waiters, but only a regular white shirt. Hardie placed the glass of water in front of her, observing her with those penetrating eyes. The exchange happened in seconds, but in her head it played in slow motion. She watched him walk away, wondering how tight and tense his ass would look while he thrusted his massive stick into her. Linda shook her head to snap herself out of it. Her thoughts about him were bordering on vulgar.
After Hardie walked out of view, she looked at the napkin he gave her and saw an email address and a password scrawled at the very edge. It became clear that this was an email just for her. She could barely stay in her seat, cutting off the waiter with a curt ‘no’ when he asked if she was interested in ordering some dessert. Linda ended the meeting short with her business partners, paid the bill and had her driver take her back to her yacht.
When she finally got home, Linda threw her purse on the floor and ran to her laptop, conveniently left near her bed. Linda logged on to the email she’d been given, finding an unread email in the inbox folder with the subject title: For You.
Linda felt lightheaded as her heart beat furiously within her chest. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been this excited. When she opened the email, there was an attachment and short note that simply stated, ‘Click here, if you want to see more.’
A video? She had a feeling she knew what this video was, and her suspicions were soon confirmed. It was Hardie ‘performing’ for her. She watched as he played with himself. Every time he looked to the camera, his eyes were so intense that it bored a hole right through her. Linda knew he was thinking of her as he stroked that magnificent cock. Linda watched the video repeatedly, pleasuring herself throughout, only closing her eyes when he moaned on the screen, imagining him on top of her.
After she composed herself, Linda looked at the email again.
‘Click here, if you want to see more.’
The sentence was also a link, and Linda clicked it, intrigued, sure it was another video. But it wasn’t a video, it was a camera looking into a bedroom. She knew instantly that this was a live stream into Hardie’s room. She recognized the shirt he was wearing from the night before draped over a chair in the corner. Hardie had given her access to his room, so she could have a front row seat … the only seat …to his private show. Her jaw dropped. Hardie wanted her to watch him live. Was he still auditioning? Didn’t he know that he was in? Then Linda suddenly realized that yes, he was still auditioning, but this time, he was auditioning for the flashing green light, and it seemed like he knew exactly how to get it. Linda tried to clear her head with the erotic thoughts that had suddenly filled her mind about Hardie for the umpteenth time that day. She laid down on the bed, waiting for him to enter the room on her screen, wondering how she was going to be able to resist him.
As she filled her screen with the image, Linda was almost paralyzed to see Hardie walk into his room. He looked directly into the camera. He didn’t know if she was watching or not, but assumed that she was.
He took off his white t-shirt, letting her see what she’d been craving since the last time they met. That body. The abs that were muscular but still soft. He wasn’t cut like a Greek God, but he certainly wasn’t just a normal, able bodied young man. He took off his pants to reveal his legs, solid tree trunks with tight calves and exquisite thighs that were, for a lack of a better word, beefy. The very best part was what was in between hung those legs. How else could it be described but as a master work of art? Deliciously smooth and even-colored, it moved heavily to follow his slightest pivot. Was he even aware of how that affected her?
He sat down in the chair where his shirt was draped, spread his legs and scooted closer toward the camera to dominate the image on the screen. He squeezed lotion into his left hand before he grasping the hardness between his legs to slide it up and down through his fist. Hardie started slowly, partially rubbing his cock with his hand, and partially thrusting it forward with his hips. Soon, he was doing more of the latter, as if his fist had become a girl he was fucking. Linda was mesmerized, watching every muscle in his arms and shoulders flex to maximum capacity, strengthening each thrust forward, pushing the rhythm faster and faster. His eyes closed and a grunt escaped him as he bucked, rubbed and jerked himself to a frenzy.
Linda was too fixated on the screen to noticed how wet she was, let alone play with herself. She didn’t want to move from where she was. This young man was bold, brash and didn’t know his place, which turned her on even more than she already was.
Hardie kept pressing into his fist with his eye closed, imagining Linda’s breasts pressed up against his face. He moaned and called out her name with each and every thrust.
Oh my god, he’s calling my name while he masturbates, she thought. Linda blushed like a schoolgirl. She watched as his rhythm climaxed with a few tight pulls, shooting his juice all over his own stomach with violent spasms. Linda felt like she had finished him off herself – she was exhausted. The whole time he played with himself, she battled to keep from holding her breath, trying to keep her legs closed. Her back was sore now from intently leaning in to watch the screen. Hardie stood up to clean himself before he leaned into the camera and spoke.
“Do you like that Linda? Are you there?”