Friday, 19 February 2016

Special Guest - Queenie Black

On managing more than one project at a time- or not!

I,” says my mother in law, “have never not finished a project. I have never started one thing while I have another unfinished.”
That put me in my place because I have always been a person who has lots of different projects on the go at once. For example I have two novellas at different stages of completion (one which needs editing and one which is about a third along). I have several ideas for novels written down. I have two novels finished but not going anywhere or doing anything and another fully planned and half written.
I also do crafty things- crochet, cross stitch and tapestry. I had three on the go at once (one started in 2004 and still unfinished- see picture) and have only recently finished two of them. I am at the beginning of a knitted throw and have everything in place to knit a pair of socks which remain unstarted.

So is there something wrong with me? I have a low boredom threshold, true, but that doesn’t completely explain it.
The truth is that I like to have more than one project on the go at any one time because I like to have options. It means that at the moment when a project sticks I can turn to another and while I’m doing that my brain goes tick tick tick tick and works on the first behind the scenes sorting out the problems until it’s ready to go back to. In an ideal world this means that time is never wasted and it gives my brain a focus so that my subconscious can iron out hiccups.
Or at least that is what I tell myself.
Sadly sometimes a project won’t be ready to go back to, not even years later. So perhaps the truth is that fundamentally I have no commitment and that as soon as a project sticks I don’t have the discipline to take it through the tough stages and work out solutions. That’s what my mother-in-law believes at any rate; that I use a new project as an excuse to give up on the first. 
The fact that I still have a craft project unfinished from 2004 indicates that my mother-in-law may be right. The fact that I have successfully completed my Love Bites collection, and two other major craft projects indicates that actually she may be wrong and I am capable of finishing a project.
I know which one I like to believe!
What about you? Do you like to have more than one project on the go at once? Do you have to finish a project before you start another one?

Here is an excerpt from my new collection of short erotic stories Lovebites.


“You know what? You can take your job and stick it.” Mad as hell I grabbed my purse and stomped out of the little cubicle I called my office. I was done here and I was never coming back and fuck the giving notice part.
The elevator always took ages to creak its way between floors and I could feel the stabbing pressure of what felt like a thousand eyes in my back. Of course they were all watching. They’d been waiting for something like this to happen for twenty months. Just then melodic chimes signaled the arrival of the executive elevator. The one that normal people like me are forbidden to ride in, the one for the exalted rich and the bosses who live in the penthouse. I wanted to escape the avid looks that were directed my way and, what the hell, what could they do anyway? Sack me?
So I stepped into it.
I turned and, just before the doors closed, got a good view of open mouths, staring eyes and was that…envy? It certainly looked like it from where I was standing. As the doors slid silently shut, I raised my hand and gave a little finger wave.

The car was bigger than my bedroom, and a thousand times more luxurious but I hardly noticed the mirrored walls and the thick-as-a-mattress carpet. My attention was caught and held by the two guys already in there, one on my left and one on my right.
My gaze darted between the two of them and I felt guilty colour sting my cheeks. I hadn’t expected company but I wasn’t objecting. These guys were fit and built. One dark-haired and smoooooth, the other blonde and just-got-in-out-of-the-wild rough.
And I knew them. Brandon Shaw and Mitchell Graham owned the company I work – ooops, scratch that – the company I used to work for. I’d met them at work events, like the Christmas party and the Halloween party and the Employee of the Year party. I’d seen them a couple of times from a distance. They always had a flock of female employees around them.
I’d heard people described as chick magnets but only realised exactly what it meant when I saw these two. I used to feel their magic pull yet always stayed away because initially I was in a relationship, and then afterwards was suffering from a broken heart and struggling to cope with a job where my ex was screwing a colleague. Pity my ex didn’t take a leaf out of these guys’ books – there was never any suggestion that they had slept with anyone from the company. Which meant in the end that there was a gentle rumor that they were a) gay, or b) didn’t like vanilla and went for the more exotic, with their tastes catered for elsewhere.
I positioned myself with my back to the wall and let my gaze slide over them. To my right was Brandon. He’d taken off his suit jacket and had it hooked over one shoulder. Beneath the fine fabric of his shirt I could see the hard muscle of a broad chest, arrowing down to a pair of narrow hips and a huge bulge... Oh man.
I licked my lips and dragged my reluctant gaze away to focus on his face. He was watching me scope him out. There was a hard predatory glint in his eyes. Heat speared through me from my cheekbones to my pussy, part embarrassment and part desire. I squeezed my thighs together to stop the growing ache.
I quickly glanced away and found myself checking out Mitchell on my left. He was slightly shorter than his partner, and seemed kinder and less predatory too. His eyes were a softer green, more jade than emerald. But his shoulders were as wide and he sported an identical erection. Were they lovers? A pity for womankind if they were gay. What a loss.
I shouldn’t be in the elevator with them in the first place but the new militant me with nothing to lose didn’t care. So instead of fixing my gaze on the floor and fighting the temptation to look again, I enjoyed the view. They put my slimeball ex to shame and my panties grew damp while they silently watched me. I wished that I was wearing something a little less conservative when the elevator jerked to a sudden halt.
Not a nice, slow, we’ve arrived kind of halt but the scary kind.
The lights went out.
Panic dug its claws into me, not letting go even when the emergency lighting kicked in.
“What’s happening?” I didn’t even try and keep the terrified squeak out of my tone.
“Hey,” Brandon said softly, “it’s going to be alright. They’ll have it fixed in no time.”
“It’s broken?” I hated the idea of being shut in closed spaces, and the car, despite its size and luxury, suddenly felt very small. I couldn’t bear to spend hours locked in here hanging over all that empty space. The walls closed in, my hands and feet went cold, and I struggled to breath.
“Now you’ve done it, Brandon.”
“Easy.” When had they got so close to me? I was crowded by two warm male bodies that smelt good. Having them so close, almost touching me, took my mind off the elevator.
“Rub her hands, Mitchell. Get some warmth into them, she’s freezing.”
Mitchell sandwiched my hands between his palms and rubbed hard. The movement distracted me, not because he was making my hands warmer, which he was, but because he kept bumping my breasts.  Awareness rushed through me and my nipples went hard as cherry stones and poked at my blouse. Brandon’s hands rested lightly on my hips but they might as well have been brands. I could feel every finger as if there were no clothing between us. Woodsy cologne, mingled with clean male musk, swirled around me. My pussy creamed and I couldn’t help it; my wayward body leant back until I was pressed hard against Brandon.
His cock, huge and promising, seared my lower back. I couldn’t prevent a small sound escaping. I felt my cheeks go hot. What must they think of me?
Mitchell’s expression was rich with satisfaction in the dim light.
“Shall we carry on distracting you, baby?”
I shivered, my panties drenched as my body answered the question for them.  Brandon nuzzled the sensitive spot beneath my ear. His voice rumbled right through my body as he asked, “Ever been double-fucked before?”
The crude honesty of his question embarrassed me and I couldn’t answer. Then I forgot what he asked because Mitchell dropped to his knees in front of me. His hands stroked slowly up the back of my thighs. They smoothed over stockings, and then paused when they reached my lacy garters.

Elevator Magic 

A steamy encounter in a lift makes Cass the center of attention for two sexy men. Is it just hot sex for them or will Cass have to make some life-changing choices? 

Immortal Longings 

Not one, but two Greek gods in her bed. How’s a girl to choose? Must Zoe’s sensual holiday romance end in farewell, or will she try to make her own heaven on earth with two demigods? 

Eleanor’s Choice 

Eleanor explores the shadowy world of submission – her marriage depends on it. Will the Master give her an experience she can use to please her husband, or is it time to walk away? 

Love Bites 

Lonely Ella is mesmerised by the owner of a chocolate shop. Drawn into Lang’s rich, seductive web, she grows to fear as well as desire him. What is the secret he is hiding from her? 

* * *

These four short stories contain too-hot-to-handle Greek gods, a sexy Vampire who might just turn out to be a killer, a Master who can wield a crop with artistry, and two delicious CEOs who know how to keep a woman happy. Oh, and chocolate, BDSM, MFM Mènage and sex in an elevator. 

This collection of 4 stories contains explicit language and graphic erotic sexual content. It is intended for mature audiences 18 years of age or older. 

Lovebites is available on Amazon.

About Queen Black:  I’ve been writing pretty much since I was able to read. I juggle fundraising for charities, family life and writing with varying success. My children have mostly flown the nest and I live in a small village in North Yorkshire, England with my husband and some chickens. I write in an old caravan in the garden where I can’t be tempted to procrastinate on the internet.

Twitter: @queenieblackwr1


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