Recently my Xcite ebook was featured on The Vanessa Show and an excerpt from Getting Physical was read out on the show. Getting Physical is a love story that happens between a curvaceous woman and a tall, thin guy who both have problems with self confidence. They meet, of all places, in a gym and they end up going on a date on Valentine's Day.
Here's a little taster of what happens:
"Now then, what do you fancy?" She looked at me, and although she said not a word, the barrage of silent innuendo was dazzling.
"I mean to eat." I walked over to the telephone and picked up a pile of pamphlets from beside it. "I've got a great choice of gourmet ingredients right here." I strode over to the sofa and sat myself next to her. Choosing which takeout company to order from is probably not normally considered a romantic thing, but as we huddled together, our heads touched and our hands brushed against each other as we pointed and flicked. I thought it was very sensual.
We decided upon pizza and I dialed, ordered, and disappeared into the kitchen to get wine. As I chose glasses, I took stock: a beautiful woman, good food, and sparkling wine on Valentine's Day. I couldn't possibly muck it up, could I? I could see my mother nodding her head vigorously from her sneering seat in Heaven. I remembered the dead cert of three years ago, where I managed to send the poor girl to casualty. It couldn't possibly get that bad, could it? I took several deep breaths and walked back into the living room.
Terri had found the stereo and was flicking through my CD collection. Bent at the waist, her shapely bottom was straining towards me through the material of her dark-blue skirt. The glasses in my hand clinked and clattered, alerting her to my presence. She turned her head to the side and smiled. The glasses clinked some more as I placed them on the coffee table; one fell to its side.
"You okay?" Suddenly she was beside me, her hand hovering beside mine and righting the fallen glass.
"Yeah. Just a bit, you know, nervous." Before now, all my worst experiences involved women finding out I wasn't as experienced as I pretended to be. This time I decided I was probably a lot safer working it the other way round. I sat down as I didn't trust my legs to hold me upright at that moment.
"Nervous?" Her lips lifted at a quizzical angle. "Why?"
She grasped the neck of the wine bottle firmly, tipped it, and the contents spilled forth in effervescent streams. It bubbled up higher and higher, 'til she stopped, and everything calmed down; the air still agitating the liquid, but its movement resting just below the surface.
I took the proffered glass and cradled it in my fingers. In for a penny, in for a pound...
"I'm not very good with women. I manage to insult them and sometimes even injure them—accidentally of course." My eyes flicked up, and she was leaning forward, bent at the waist, pouring wine for herself. My gaze rested in the cleft of her bosom.
"There's no need to worry," she replied, straightened up, and then slipped into the seat next to me. "In fact, I'm kind of nervous, too." She reached out and took my hand and laid it on her breast. "My heart is thumping."
And it was. I could feel it: ba da bump, ba da bump, ba da bump. I could feel her nipple pressing into the palm of my hand, too. I licked my lips.
"I can feel it." I gasped, lifting my gaze from my hand on her breast to her face. Then I felt her lips press against my own. Soft, plump, and giving, they undulated against mine which were hard with shock. The constant pressure worked on my lips until they were as soft and malleable as hers. My hand was still over her breast and experimentally I gave a gentle squeeze. I was rewarded by a sexy gasp that tickled all my senses. I squeezed again, cupping and moulding as my other hand grasped onto her waist. I needed to hold on, because I was afraid that if I didn't, I'd be shaken out of the dream and back to my lonely reality.
Her hands were in my hair, fingers splayed, pulling me closer in a fiercely sexual way. One hand slipped down to my chin and gently cradled me there, comforting me, encouraging me. If I sat for a million years, I'd never be able to name every emotion and sensation that ran through me at that moment. I was a bundle of confusion, but I trusted her.I trusted her to lead me, and I would follow anywhere.
The follow up to Getting Physical is Getting Intimate. It happens six months later and shows how Terri and John progress as a couple. It's a story about jealousy and overcoming all those little insecurities that can really break down a relationship.Believe it or not, Valentine's plays a huge part in this story too, even though it's set in August.
Here's what I mean:
I rang her when I got in: once, twice, three times before I decided I should leave her alone for a bit, that she needed time. That lasted for all of half an hour. Then I started to ring her on her mobile; after that, I resorted to sending texts.
At midnight, I realised it was futile and gave up. I crawled into bed and sobbed. I could smell her scent around me from the last time she’d visited. The cheerful scent of flowers and citrus broke my heart. I missed her, I’d lost her and it wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t fair. I cried myself to sleep that night.
I called in sick the next day. I couldn’t face work. I was sweaty and dirty from the previous evening’s workout plus the fifteen-minute run to her house, but I lacked the will to shower. I tried both of her phones again, but clearly she wasn’t going to answer me. I needed her to hear me out. I needed her to know she meant everything to me, that I loved her and I couldn’t live without her. Suddenly a crazy idea hit. As insane as it was, it was my only chance.
The lady at the posh card shop in the high street looked horrified as I literally ran through her door in my stinking workout gear from the night before. Sweat flowed down my face, my hair hadn’t been brushed and no doubt my eyes were red from crying. She probably thought I was drunk or high on something. I really didn’t care though. I just panted out my request.
“Have you got any Valentine’s cards?”
“Not on display. Sir, it’s August—you’ve missed it by six months.” She looked more confused and disdainful by the moment.
“I know, it’s just I need one today. Do you have any in storage?”
“Well, I probably have a few left over. Hang on one moment please, erm, sir, I’ll be right back.”
I stood by the counter, enjoying the cool air from the desktop fan whirring there. I heard a drawer sliding open and moments later she was back, holding a small pile of cards in her hands.
“Thank you.” I cracked my first smile in almost a day and to her credit, she smiled back. Wary and quite tight-lipped, but a smile all the same.
I flipped through the first few. Far too jokey and blokey. The next batch was too sentimental and twee. Then I found it. It was a simple little card with an embossed red rose on it, like someone had made it by hand. It was perfect. I paid the lady and thanked her for her help then ran out again, I imagine much to that poor woman’s relief.
I knew exactly what to write and it took only a moment to do it. I sealed the envelope, wrote her name on the front, then jogged through the mid-August heat to her house. I popped the letter through the door and ran home, the sun beating down on my head and flesh, heating me to an uncomfortable degree. I deserved it, though. I deserved to feel those punishing rays. I had broken the heart of the girl I loved.
The third and final book in this Getting Together trilogy will be made available in April and it's title is Getting Hitched and will give a conclusion to this couple's love story.
So you see, I told you getting physical and intimate with me would be fun! Enjoy your Valentine's day!