Blurb:
Light hearted, sexy Sapphic smut is the theme of this erotic
anthology, edited by Lucy Felthouse with assistance from Kev ‘Mitnik’ Blisse.
From coffee shops to exotic Indian adventures to cosy cabins
in France, Sapphic Smut has it all. Fun with sugar, naughty spankings,
seductions by strangers, seductions by friends, cougars and even a twist on a
fairy tale abound in this exciting collection of lesbian stories from erotica’s
finest authors.
This delicious girl-on-girl anthology contains stories from
Lucy Felthouse, Kay Jaybee, Louisa Bacio, Sallyanne Rogers, Vanessa de Sade,
Tabitha Rayne and Elizabeth Coldwell.
Amazon: http://mybook.to/sapphicsmut
Editor’s Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/lucyfelthousewriter
Excerpt:
Alana really couldn’t believe how flat Holland was. She’d
been told by many people, but somehow, she still wasn’t expecting a place that
made Cambridgeshire look like the Peak District. Her view from the train as she
travelled from Schiphol airport to Amsterdam’s Centraal Station was unimpeded.
Not so much as a hillock was visible.
And now, here she was, standing outside the station with
crowds milling around her. A mixture of tourists, businesspeople and natives.
She herself was a combination of two of those groups—she was here on business,
but she’d deliberately extended her trip so she could spend a couple of days
exploring the city. She had a day either side of her meeting, the boring part a
filling to a sightseeing sandwich. Though, despite the boring tag, the meeting
definitely wasn’t a bad thing, it was an appointment to cross the ts and dot
the is on a very lucrative deal—certainly the trip was worthwhile.
After watching the insanity for another minute or so, she
began to head away from the station, wheeling her small case along with her.
Already armed with a guidebook and a decent map, she knew where she was going.
Her map-reading skills were excellent, and she made the short walk to her hotel
in less than twenty minutes. Anywhere else, she’d have gotten a cab, but it
appeared they were a rare commodity in this city.
She’d checked in, dumped her bags and freshened up within
another ten minutes, and was back on the street.
An online acquaintance had sent her a bunch of information
for her trip—about the best museums, interesting things to see that might not
be in guidebooks, and details on transport. It appeared that Amsterdam was
unlike London, Paris and Rome, in as much as it had trams as its preferred mode
of transport, rather than underground trains. Only one Metro line ran through
the city, north-to-south. Everywhere else was utterly dependent on trams, bikes
and being on foot.
And fuck, there were a lot of bikes. They zipped here, there
and everywhere, not always staying where they were supposed to be, it seemed.
The slim Dutch people atop the bikes were oblivious, just concentrating on
getting where they were going.
Alana searched for the nearest tram stop, and quickly
discovered she needed to be on the other side of the road to head in the right
direction.
Crossing the road was a chore in itself. A dice with death.
She’d thought Rome’s motorists were insane, but at least they were fairly
predictable. Here, she was faced with crossing a road that held a cycle path, a
tram line and a lane for cars. Shifting down the pavement, she stood at the
conveniently placed crossing. It still didn’t make things much easier, but at
least she could mingle in with the crowd. Traffic was much more likely to stop
if it was going to hit a crowd of people than a single pedestrian. Right?
By some miracle, she reached the opposite pavement
unscathed—except for her nerves, which were shot—and approached the tram stop.
As if by magic, a tram arrived, and it was the correct number. Things were
looking up.
After a few minutes, she realised that public transport in
Amsterdam was nowhere near as easy to navigate as in the other major cities she
was familiar with. There, their Tube or Metro stations always had plenty of
large, unmissable signs telling you where you were. Piccadilly Circus, Anvers,
Piramide. Here, it seemed you were left to your own devices. There were
announcements on board the tram, but they were in Dutch—a language which she
knew very little of—incredibly muffled, and pretty much drowned out by the
sound of the tram’s motion and its passengers.
No comments:
Post a Comment