The Friendly Games, William Blake, and me

That's what they call the Commonwealth Games. And friendly they do seem to be compared to the chest-thumping nationalistic nonsense that is the Olympics. Okay, so they'll still play national anthems to tell the world where the winners come from, hoist a flag too, but very few of either are recognisable. Even England's - though a setting to music of one of William Blake's finest works - must surely be virtually unknown outside the UK. I was very surprised when I heard it played at The Games and don't feel abashed to admit it, honestly expected that little waltzy number about gods, queens, and saving graciousness. Jerusalem has been sung at sporting events for years - notably the FA cup final - so I suppose its inclusion at The Games as the English national anthem does have some previous.

However, Blake - besides being a genius - was a contrary bugger, not averse to giving the establishment a well-deserved kick up the arse, and it is thought by some that this song - rather than a gloriously rousing celebration of all things English - is rather subversive. During his formative years, as the legend from which the poem derives its inspiration avers, did Jesus really step upon this land of ours? Gaze upon these green hills? Create a Heaven on Earth here? And if so, how come it's come to this? Wealthy land owners and industrialists - all supposedly devoutly Christian - subjugating and exploiting the population among the smoky fetid filth of the industrial revolution? So give me my weapons plus a dash of divine strength and let me fight tirelessly and relentlessly to free these poor fuckers from their sad and sorrowful lives. Then we'll again have Paradise on our doorstep. And not before time!

Others say that the poem's 'dark satanic mills', rather than industrial, are ecclesiastical, that Blake was having a go at the Church and its seemingly timeless ability to subdue, repress, while being, at its very core, rotten and corrupt. Run by Satan himself. I love that idea. If he (small aitch, not out of disrespect, but rather of disbelief) does indeed exist, there is no doubt that this is his domain, and that he has his hand in everything, including the church. And if he is as clever and conniving as the New Testament suggests, what better place for him to make his seat of power? Perfect.

Anyway. I digress. This was about games and anthems and concluding with a (some would say inevitable) tenuous link to something I once wrote. As usual. You know me so well! Okay. Let's get to it. I have a book going free at the moment. It's called 'Of angels, mice and men' and is available here:

'Of angels, mice and men' on Amazon

The first story from the compilation - Evie, destroyer of worlds - is my attempt to subvert Genesis for my own iniquitous ends, and touches on many of the issues that I believe Blake was toying with in his now most famous poem. That's if he ever toyed with anything. Go over to Amazon (link above) and read the intro. And, if you like it, download the whole collection for free! Do it before midnight on Tuesday, or it won't be free. Don't say I didn't warn you. 

Let me know what you think! Feedback is important, enables me to grow, develop as an artist (I don't really believe that, so ignore me if you like).

Have a great week!

Alexandra x

Giving myself away

If I said, 'Here, take me. Do what you want with me,' would you value me? Would you want more of me? Come back again for me? I know you would. And not just because I'm so good at it: whatever it is you took from me, I am - believe me - very good at it. But it isn't actually me I'm offering. It's a book I wrote. And it's not even a book I wrote. It's a collection of randomly-written short stories that had enough (barely) of a shared theme that I stitched them together into a sci-fi and paranormal patchwork  and merely called it a book. Are you still reading? Really? That didn't put you off? Good. Then we may be on the same wavelength.

The book is called 'Of angels, mice and men' and is a compilation of eight of my very finest and keenly wrought works. I am proud of every one. Each is worthy of a future feature film. I love the characters and hope you will love them too. They tug on my heart-strings, as though from another dimension, as though they really exist. Perhaps they do.

Someone recently criticised the name of it, said that it was too much like Steinbeck's classic, to which I replied, 'Of course it is, you moron (I didn't actually say moron), that's the point! The book contains mice, men, and angels, so I too stole Robbie Burns' famous line then added an apposite word of my own. Angels. Mice have well-laid plans that often go wrong, and men, rather similarly, have well-laid plans that often go wrong, but look! Look at this! Angels - yes fucking all-seeing, all-knowing angels - even they have plans that often go wrong, and the proof can be seen a couple of times herein. To whet your appetite, a brief synopsis of the included stories follows. The book will be free from tomorrow - 25th July - for five days. 

Metaphorically speaking:

I am naked. I am prostrate. I am open. I am quiveringly, beautifully vulnerable and heavily lasciviously lubricated. Please don't walk away. Take me. Take me and value what I am offering. I give you myself. Myself, in all my unadulterated glory. You will grow to love me, despite this rather unusual introduction. And I, in turn, may grow to love you too.

Of angels, mice and men

A dazzling compilation of paranormal and sci-fi erotica

Alexandra Amalova

The stories:

Evie, destroyer of worlds

In a locked and darkened room, a woman too beautiful to behold slakes the thirst of a multitude.

Room for rent

A mysterious circular tale of love and lust plays out in an old house with an empty room.

The Equinox of Thirteen

At the Equinox, a girl plagued by lucid dreams journeys through perpetual rain to change the world.

Sexangel

In a distant future civilisation, libido is surgically removed to be reborn as a separate entity - a tiny winged creature. Productivity rises and the procedures are initially deemed a great success.

Of snowdrops, mice and yew

After his divorce, Christian moves north to find his roots and, in the village of his father's birth, discovers an ancient church.

The angel of Lonely Farm

An old house, a new beginning and a powerful storm precipitate incredible life-changing events.

I pay the ferryman

The ferryman for Livia's final journey insists on the correct fare.

Automaton: the madness of King George

The eighteenth century's technological advances facilitated revolutions and executed kings, while simply driving others to insanity.

The ebook is free from tomorrow, Friday July 25th 2014, for five whole days on Amazon. 

Three-minute warning: what would you do?

Hi! Sorry about the hiatus. There are no excuses, but I have been busy. And that's not an excuse, it's an explanation...

Around six months ago, I wrote a story for a Lush Stories competition with the theme of 'quickie sex'. It didn't win. Why would it? And why would I be even remotely bitter about that? Anyway, I recently reread it and spotted a few flaws, a few wrinkles, and endeavoured to iron them out. I gave it a couple of hours, till steam filled the room and I couldn't make head nor tail of anything. That's when I usually say, 'That's finished then!' And so it was.

The story is called 'Three-minute warning', and I include a tantalising introduction below. The accompanying cover photo, by the way, is my work too.

Three-minute warning

I was plain and knew it. Didn't need anyone to tell me. Make-up and nice clothes were wasted on me, created a caricature, a laughable parody of sensuality. So usually - and wisely - I didn't bother. However, this day was a special day, a day when I had to try my best to look my best and thus open myself to ridicule.

I approached the desk with justifiable trepidation. The tweedy receptionist smiled patronisingly at my bleached hair, caked lashes, and rouged lips, while laughing internally at the cheap blouse that strained to subdue my over-sized tits. And I knew she'd be shaking her head at my mini-skirted fat arse and too-high heels as I following her pointing finger and clomped lift-wards. Well, fuck you, bitch, I thought, fuck you, though behind my sneer there cowered the shy, plump little girl who'd never even been kissed.

The lift doors pinged and closed slowly behind me. Smoky mirrors taunted me. Averted eyes insulted me. Twenty floors nearer to Heaven, Hell awaited. A five-headed bespectacled and besuited Hell, wielding slashing pens and posing withering answerless questions. I tugged my knickers from the crack of my arse, adjusted my groaning bra then breathed deeply and stepped into the fray.

The monster bade me sit. Its glassy eyes devoured me; its many mouths curled in hungry incredulity.
'So...' papers rustled, 'Miss...'
My solitary chair's creak barely masked my churning stomach's growl.
'Hughes.'
'Ah, yes. Hughes.'
The greying man in the middle had a kindly smile, yet it was also a smile that quite blatantly said, fuck these faceless four, for I make the decisions here. Despite their mainly cosmetic purpose, the faceless four somehow maintained their supercilious self-importance. I babbled.
'Susan Hughes. I'm seventeen. Just finished my stage one secretarial. I've always wanted to work...'
A slowly raised palm silenced me. I deflated.
'Quite. We'll come to your, er, ample qualifications shortly, er, Susan. Mr Jackson,' he coughed, turned to his left and raised an eyebrow at one of the faceless four, 'would you like to...'

A siren. The siren. Everyone expected it. No one expected it. Open mouths and pasty faces. For long moments, nobody moved.
'Is that?'
'Oh, God!'
'It is!'
'What the fuck do we do?'
Scrabbling hands extricated phones. Shaking fingers stabbed. A host of terrified expletives followed. Were they stupid? Didn't they watch the news? Communication systems are always the first to go. I sat on my hands, rocked to and fro, my lips curled in morbid amusement. This room is the last I shall ever share, these faces the last I shall ever see. We are equals now. No amount of money or status makes a jot of difference. Death simply doesn't give a fuck.

'Fuck?'
I stood. Tore open my new blouse - its pristine presence was pointless now - and jiggled my cantilevered tits at them. Greyhair bellowed.
'Sit down!'
For the merest moment, I wavered, but it was only a moment. I had three minutes. We all had three minutes. What possible sanction could sway me from my course? It was a concept my young flexible mind grasped instantly. Their blinkered crinkly brains would take a little longer.

Read the conclusion of this torrid tale plus eleven further stories in ' The Big Bag of Sexy Allsorts', a tooth-rotting collection of concise erotica, available now exclusively on Amazon.

Zoothanasia: a poem using animal abuse as a metaphor for abusive human relationships!

I recently read how animals in captivity or in game reserves are routinely culled, and not for their welfare as is usually claimed, but for selfish human economic reasons. The word 'zoothanasia' has been coined for this behaviour. There are many tragic examples; a male black rhino called Ronnie who was past reproductive age and supposedly dangerous, was shot as big game by a Texan hunter for the princely sum of $350,000; a healthy young giraffe called Marius was cut up and fed to lions when he no longer fitted into the breeding programme of the zoo in which it lived.

I felt driven to write a poem about it, and was instantly impelled to construct it as an analogy, having seen a parallel between the treatment of such innocent creatures and the treatment of certain - often female - partners in abusive relationships. Unfortunately, Lush Stories rejected the finished poem, saying it was neither loving nor erotic enough for their taste. And that's fair enough. Anyway, here it is, for your eyes only.

Zoothanasia

Captured, raptured

Nurtured, cross the threshold

Into gleaming mad

Incarceration

Glaring lights

Hard cold delights

*

I'm fed on beds of straw

You roar, I'm raw meat

Eat and drink to

You, my keeper

Sleep another hour

Of Serengeti dawn

*

Vultures circle

Workers sweep the compound clean

Till you return

To tease with hypodermic darts

Impart, inject

A painful sleepless state

*

Stick out my neck

In calm and stately beauty

Fury chops it down

Dissects, inspects me

Feeds my flesh

With pride to hungry lions

*

Doe-eyed lust

Is dust, my unborn children

Thrust against the bars

And dragged away

I stay and face

The tasteless daily throng

*

In narrow cages

Pacing rages, burning, churning

Anger wages war

Against my mere existence

Economic nonsense

Innocence has long since

*

Gone, the purity

The trust you promised me

The outstretched hand that stroked

And stoked my loyalty

Now turns, a beast

To slash and burn

*

Horn, pale tusk

Red tooth and claw

Now toothless, clawless

Mute, dead, flawless

Gazing down with glassy eye

Both born to live till love must die

*

#Erotic #Poetry what I have writ and drit, plus musings on The Charge of the Light Brigade

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Giving it all away! A naughty novella to whet your palate! #spshow

Occasionally, I give away an ebook. It's a simple process; I simply have to click on a couple of boxes in my Kindle Direct account and voila! You can download it for free. Don't worry that it took me months to write, months more to edit, and several weeks to design and decide on a suitable cover. Don't you concern yourself with that! No, I insist. Take it! Simply take it! It's a steal, a bloody steal, and I don't resent it at all. Not one bit. What can go wrong? Delete the bloody thing if you don't like it (but you will; I know you will), simply cast it into the ether at no loss to yourself. No more the finger-trembling, heart-pounding shall-I-shan't-I indecision and accompanying traumatic image of your hard-earned $2.99 potentially going down the drain... From midnight tonight (PST) or 8 am tomorrow morning (GMT) simply head over to:

Literal Fantasies on Amazon

check the price is zero and download it onto your Kindle or Kindle app for nothing. Then make a coffee, grab an accompanying bicky or bar of chocolate, loosen your nether clothing, and lose yourself...

Literal Fantasies

One lonely writer

Four unique women

Twelve incredible hours

Oh! Before you do, please check your birth certificate and make sure you are an adult. This is an erotic work replete with explicit language and graphic descriptions of adult intimate behaviour. The novella contains around 33,000 words, several of which begin with f and several more with p, d and c. You have been warned!

As a taster, I'll add an extract below, right below a couple of bona-fide unsolicited reviews and the novella's blurb. I love blurb. Love the word itself, and also the blurb itself. Any book - from the worst to the best - can have great blurb, so you have to be careful. I've tried my damnedest to make my particular blurb as un-hyperbolic as I can, without losing the zing that makes a person go, 'Ooooooh! I'd like a piece of that!' See what you think. If you do download it, I'd love to know what you think, either via an Amazon review or in a comment here. Happy reading x

Literal Fantasies reviews

5.0 out of 5 stars Literally fantastic! 2 Feb 2014

By ceebee

Format:Kindle Edition|Verified Purchase

This carefully crafted novella is a wonderful follow on from Alexandra's short stories. The story is gradually developed with each chapter teasing the reader with sexual promise as well as developing each believable and well-drawn character. As always, the erotic fantasies were fully and deliciously explored; however the main focus was on the human frailties of the central group in the novella. Their personal stories, sexual yearnings and emotional vulnerabilities that the author describes so truthfully lifts the book from the mundanely and forgettably sexual into something much more thought provoking, haunting and so truly erotic.

5.0 out of 5 stars Great read erotic with a sense of Humour 20 Jan 2014

By Mr. C. M. Devlin

Format:Kindle Edition|Verified Purchase

Much better read than 50 Shades of Grey and more believable. Some interesting twists and Alexandra Amalova has a superb sense of humour. Realistic characters and a fantasy that will curl the toes LOL

Literal Fantasies blurb

Harry, heartbroken and newly single, turns to the Internet for solace. A chat room exchange inspires him to try his hand at erotic writing and he soon has steamy stories posted on several sites. 

He receives an email from a woman called Cath saying how much she and her three friends enjoy his work. She explains how the four shop workers also write erotica and have weekly 'Literal Fantasy' evenings where they drink wine, exchange and enhance their stories then embellish them with saucy snaps. Harry says he would love to be a fly on the wall at one of their get-togethers and offers to write a story that involves them all, yet the women counter with something more enticing. 

They want Harry to join them, to be that fly on the wall he so craved to be. He apprehensively agrees and a hotel is booked on a not too distant Thursday. Naturally, he fantasises about what the day will bring, but all his fantasies will fall short of the reality that awaits him: indeed, the experience will change the lives of all five forever. 

Time flies. The day arrives. Room 351. Harry takes a deep breath and raises his shaking hand to knock... 

Sue, a young, flirty and attractive blonde opens the door. Harry next meets Vicky, plain and shy and oddly out of place. He is immediately drawn to Cath - a diminutive, bubbly, Irish redhead - the woman with whom he corresponded. 

However, Cath omitted to tell him - possibly for fear of him backing out - the parameters have changed. They would now like Harry to be more than a mere observer, would like him to take part in their role plays, to improvise and sometimes lead the way. At first he is reticent, but eventually agrees, though is understandably nervous. Tentatively, the four start with a schoolroom scenario set by Martha. But where is Martha, the elusive and mysterious driving force behind their Literal Fantasy sessions, and will she ever appear? 

As the day progresses and boundaries are stretched, Harry has to deal not only with his own insecurities and uncertainties, but with those of the disparate females with whom he must bare all. What are the expectations of these four very different women? And how on Earth will Harry ever be able to live up to them? 

Literal Fantasies extract

'Vicky? I want to make love to you.' 

Again she started to cry, but nodded her head and clenched her teeth to stop her sobs. I positioned myself between her legs, my cock found its target with ease and I pushed the tip inside her. She stopped me and her eyes searched mine.

‘Harry, I’m not er, on the… er, have you a condom?’ 

She bit her lip in hope.

‘I’ll be very careful. I’m good like that.’ Doubt clouded her eyes. ‘Listen, it’s up to you… sorry…’ 

I already knew her answer. Unprotected sex carries more risks than simply unwanted pregnancy. I'd never thought of bringing condoms. Honestly, I'd never thought of it - I really hadn’t expected it to be that sort of day. And, obviously, neither had she. I shook my head and she nodded. 

‘Just hold me, Harry. It has been beautiful. Thank you. Sorry about what I said earlier. You’ve been great with all of us.’

‘Hey, you’ve all been fabulous too. It’s been the best day of my life. Once in a lifetime, never to be replicated; never bettered.’ 

I kissed her thin lips then instinctively moved down her body. I sucked her fabulous tits again and kissed her belly. Her talk of never being brought to orgasm had thrown the gauntlet down. Now was the time to pick it up.

She clenched her knees together, said no, but I said yes and sank my head between them. My tongue traced intricate patterns on the insides of her thighs, each lick releasing her legs a little more till they fell open, totally exposing her. I was gentler than I had ever been in my life. Her pubic hair was quite long and got slightly in the way, but I opened her up and kissed her clitoris. My tongue moved lightly across her and my fingers played in her slippery entrance, teasing her, though never once venturing inside. I reached up, pulled her nipples and she came quickly and violently, tossing and bucking and grunting with every cyclic wave of pleasure. Then she lay so still I thought she was asleep.

‘Harry?’ Her voice was just a whisper. ‘That was - oh, my God! - fantastic.' She breathed deeply and her eyes rolled. 'Thank you.’ She kissed my lips, tasted herself there and moaned with pleasure. ‘God, that tastes good!’ Then there was silence between us. Everything had been said. At least, I thought so.

Download the book to read on! See link above. And remember - from Friday 13th June to Sunday 15th inclusive, it is free! Yes, I know! It's unbelievable!

Not a plug - more of a potter's wheel intermission. #spshow

No blog as such today. Though my mind is overflowing with a thousand things to write about - from Rooney's chances of being in Saturday's England starting line-up, to how high can your heels be before you look like a total tart, I simply do not have the strength nor time to explore them today.

Instead, like a 21st century 'potter's wheel', I'll give you something nice to look at till I can summon the energy to load another blogger's reel. I've written, edited, and produced cover art and illustrations for, seven books of erotica; five of short stories, one sexy novella, plus a book of naughty poetry. You don't have to buy them, I simply want you to look at them. 

Alexandra Amalova's profile on Amazon

There. Mmmm! Aren't they lovely? Like me, they look fabulous on the outside, but you should see their insides! Can't believe I just typed that...

See you soon with something spicy! X