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by Kirsten Imani Kasai
Category: Erotica/Gay-Lesbian Erotica/Gay Fiction
Description: The erotic master of RHAPSODY IN SNAKESKIN is back with another cutting-edge erotic masterpiece: PRIVATE PLEASURES! Plunge into a gritty underworld populated by hallucinatory dancers, deceitful lovers, backstabbing best friends and menacing doctors. An astonishing sensual adventure for the literary mind, PRIVATE PLEASURES is a compelling exploration of the sex industry's effects on the women whose labor sustain it. Humanity's defining characteristic is not our opposable thumbs but our voyeurism. It's the licentious, spying urge, which prompts us to peer through parted curtains and cracked doors, eager for a glimpse of skin or sin. Peep shows were born of that vice and thrived. Peep shows are the absinthe of the sex trades--alluring, misleading and deliciously, delightfully toxic. Joely is a peep show dancer plagued by revenge fantasies about her clients. She's desperate to feel normal and win the heart of her handsome neighbor. But when she meets Twilight, a dancer with a penchant for brutality, Joely's facade begins to crack, revealing her darker nature. As two jealous lovers vie for Joely's attention, she must confront her shadow self, a black leather virago with a taste for blood. She hopes that a psychic surgery will cure her but it backfires, resulting in assault, murder and the breakdown of all Joely's careful constructs.
eBook Publisher: Renaissance E Books/Sizzler,
eBookwise Release Date: September 2012
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [350 KB]
Reading time: 207-290 min.
Dr. Shangé rapped on the door.
"Are you ready Miss Joely?" Thick, blemished wood muffled the doctor's genteel voice.
"Yes." Joely's answer was tremulous and gruff, crawling over a curd of nervous phlegm deep in her throat.
The door swung open, silent on brass hinges. Dr. Shangé entered, cool and professional in a powder blue smock and close-cropped black hair. His serene presence penetrated the room like a fragrant mist smelling of crisp woody forests, wet moss or lemon verbena leaves crushed between the fingers. Perched on the edge of the battered examining table, Joely was diverted from her spiraling anxieties by his spare, restrained movements. Standing at the cupboard with his back to her, he clinked through rows of milky glass jars and asked if she had given full thought to the consequences of this work.
Consequences? She saw only relief from her anger's conflagration, the terrible self-immolating dreams, both waking and not. An end to the gory fantasies at play in her head and the warped visions that brought her too close to anarchy's madness.
Joely would open her head for the good doctor's inspection. Gazing down his nose he'd murmur, "Ahh-ha ... Cain enrobed in modern flesh. Slayer! Eradicator!"
He would pull apart her jagged skull, rolling up his sleeves to plunge unsullied manicured hands into her brainy crevice and root around, knocking aside stained machetes, gristle caked mauls, blunted daggers and broken arrows. He'd peer into that Saturnalia of blood where dismembered bodies littered the serous ground and Joely stood naked, screeching and triumphant atop a squishy mound of blind eyes, severed heads, crushed bones, flecks of organ tissue and brain smatters decorating her butcher's hands.
He stood beside her, his large fingers clasped on the white sheet near her bared thigh.
She raised her head to meet his eyes."Yes. This will be over. And I hope that I can ... that at last I will feel something other than hatred." I'm alone you see, it's been a long time. Abbot's bright face flashed before her mind's eye. "I don't expect dramatic results, but maybe some relief from the pressure."
"Like draining a boil," the doctor said, his inscrutable eyes dark, fathomless.
"Yes," she answered. "Yes."