I'm in my thirties, I'm a mum and a wife and my gorgeous husband encouraged me to write stories many, many moons ago so without him I'd never be the published erotic romance author I now am.
I live near Manchester in the UK and I am a huge Manchester United fan so I am very happy because yesterday my team beat Manchester City and did so with a spectacular goal from Wayne Rooney.
I also love to bake and to sew. I sing in my church choir, badly but I do love it. I'm very eclectic in my musical tastes and there's not much I don't like bar really heavy metal and throbby dance music. Cliff Richard has been my favourite artist since I was a kid. Yeah, really.
I hate folding laundry, I pick cherries off the top of cakes, I cannot stand tea (don't tell anyone, they may kick me out of the country!) and my family has two guy guinea pigs called Star and midnight who love parsley.
So there we go, you know me a bit better now.
And in Getting Intimate John gets to know his new girlfriend much better and vice versa. They had their first date on Valentine's day and met in a gym. It's their six month anniversary and things aren't quite going to plan.
You see both characters have problems with self image, bless'em. Terri thinks she's too fat and John thinks he's too skinny. This leads to insecurity and a huge dose of jealousy and misunderstanding.
I could not believe it had been six months or so that I’d been putting myself through the gym torture. Granted, I felt better for it. I was more flexible and filled with energy, but I was not seeing my curves fall away in any significant manner. And of course, the curves that were going were the ones I wanted to keep! My bra had gone down a size and my hips seemed to have shrunk, but no amount of concentration seemed to make my podge of a belly disappear.
I persevered, though, mostly because of John and partly because of Mum. She had bought me the stupid gym pass in the first place and I’ve always been told it’s rude not to accept a present graciously.
It wasn’t so bad. At least the gym held good memories for me, and with John around I always had someone to talk to while working my bum off. I could look at him lustfully, too, and then take him home to have my wicked way. Although, he was perfectly capable of having his wicked way, too, come to think of it. He might have been a virgin when we first met, something I still found unbelievable, but he soon got the hang of things. And oh, he was imaginative. He kept me satisfied, but paradoxically that only made me want him more. I wanted to find out all the ways we could orgasm together.
I was lost in lurid fantasy as I pushed the door of the gym open. The usual mix of sweat and antiperspirant products mixed with hot plastic and rubber greeted me as I walked in. That was not what surprised me. What did surprise me was seeing my John talking to the stick insect.
It was a gym. The place was filled with lean, mean, perfectly-formed female bodies, but there was one I disliked more than all the others put together. I’d discovered from the simpering of her friends and her personal trainer’s barked instructions that her name was Sam. But in my mind she remained the stick insect. She was as thin as a rail and beautiful with it. She had bright, natural blonde hair and sparkling eyes, and although I beat her hands down in the cleavage department hers was pert and always peeped out the top of whatever sports ensemble she was wearing. Men would literally drool down themselves when talking to her.
Jealous? Me? Well, okay, maybe I was just a little bit. She was everything I wasn’t. She was effortlessly gorgeous and instantly charming. Most of the men in the gym wanted to fuck her and half of the women, too, but up until that moment I was sure that my John barely even realised she existed. He loved big women, real women. He adored my curves and told me that at every possible moment. He begged me never to lose them and I told him I couldn’t if I tried. And boy, was I trying.
But at that moment my world shattered. I couldn’t hear what was being said over the noise of the packed gym but her eyes were full of lust and he was pointedly not looking at her. Why on earth would you not meet the gaze of a person, unless you were trying to hide something or you were feeling guilty about something? I saw exactly what a moment later, when she covered my John’s strong hand with her own thin, little dainty one and squeezed. He looked up at her then and smiled. She walked away.
I was stunned. My John had been captured by the stick insect. I carried on across the gym and took the bike beside him. I was still in a daze. He talked to me as if nothing had happened just seconds before. Another sure fire sign of his guilt, I thought. I had been ravenously horny as I walked in the building, but when he asked if he could rub me down I had to decline. I had to get my head ‘round this weird situation.
I couldn’t get out of the date for the next night. I’d booked the table in advance and if we didn’t show, my card would be charged for an exorbitant amount. Maybe we could sort the whole mess out over dinner.
I couldn’t sleep that night. All I could see was her, touching my John. I tried to explain it away, I tried to think of a rational explanation, but every time I just came up with worse and worse scenarios. What if they were seeing each other? What if they were fucking each other? Damn! John could compare my body with hers. The thought disgusted me. There was no way I could compare to her.