One of the main threads that runs all the way through Her Secret Past is self-image. Both of my main characters struggle with this.
With Katrina, her self-image was influenced very much by others in her school days. She didn’t see herself in a very positive light at all because she was picked on by the boy she thought was her best friend and his girlfriend. It was only in university, when she got away from that influence, that her confidence lifted and her self-image changed. It was then she made a decision that changed her whole life, including her name and the country she lived in.
Here’s a snippet of the story to illustrate. Katrina (still named Janet back then) is cleaning her shared student flat as her flatmates never do it. Sean knocks on the door and she’s surprised to find he’s there to see her and he offers to help her clean but he has something important to ask her:
“Okay, so if I say it quickly and I don’t think about it, maybe it’ll be all right. I came here to ask you to go out with me.”
“Oh.” I stopped wiping. My jaw dropped. “Me?”
“Yes, you,” he confirmed.
“Oh.” My brain had stopped working. I sat back on my heels too and tried to get my tongue around the word ‘yes’ that I really, really wanted to say but it seemed as though my tongue had swollen to the size of my mouth.
“Hmm, maybe I shouldn’t have said anything…” Sean coughed.
“I’m trying to say something,” I gasped. “But all cogent thought seems to have left me. Please don’t go, I’d love to go on a date.”
“You would?” He smiled and his face gleamed with joy.
My heart did a little happy dance from the sight of it.
“Yes,” I replied. “I would.”
“Excellent.” He beamed and wrapped his arms around me in an embrace. I was glad to note that he’d dropped the wet rag first. I hugged him back, taking note of his broad shoulders and the hints of cinnamon spice that came through in his scent.
I moved back—I was going to say something about having to finish the kitchen floor before anything else—when he kissed me. It was just that unexpectedly abrupt but it was glorious. His plump and giving lips undulated against my own and after the initial spurt of uncertainty I kissed back with equal passion. I was overtaken by a flood of desire. I didn’t want to stop kissing him—I didn’t want to stop touching him. It felt so very good.
He cupped my waist as we kissed. His fingers crept up under the material onto my skin, the prickling sensation of his fingers on my flesh extended through my whole frame, tickling in such a pleasant way that I moaned into his mouth. He took that as encouragement and moved his hands higher.
I tried to readjust myself to do the same to him but when I moved forward I must have moved into the washed zone of the floor because in the next moment I was falling. Luckily, Sean was quick-witted and, by some feat of elasticity, I landed on top of him.
“Oh, I’m sorry—”
Sean just pulled my lips back down to his so I assumed I hadn’t broken him with my clumsiness and just continued to kiss him. I was astride him and could feel the definite imprint of his erection on the inside of my thigh. It was a curious feeling, something completely new to me, and I wasn’t sure what to do. I wanted to feel more. I wasn’t a prude, and if sex was on the cards I was eager for it to happen, but I was stuck for inspiration— What should I do next? Could I make a move or would that put Sean off? Would he think I’m a slut? I had all these questions and more buzzing in my brain and getting in the way of the delicious signals of arousal that were coursing through my veins.
I don’t know if Sean realized my quandary or if he was just a wicked young man, but as I fought myself over what to do next he took control and pushed me to the side. I screeched in a very unladylike way when my T-shirt hit the wet floor and started soaking up the lemon-scented water.
Sean just laughed and held me down. I think he liked the way I wiggled against him.
“You’re so hot,” he gasped, kneeling beside me, his body towering over me.
“And wet now!” I grumped.
“Oh, really?” He waggled his eyebrows.
I was confused then giggled when I realized what I’d said.
“Let me check,” he whispered.
He boldly ran his hand down over my stomach and into the waistband of my jeans. I held my breath. This was it. This was something properly sexual and it was happening on the damp kitchen floor of my shared apartment. That bit didn’t seem to register as I lost all focus. His fingers brushed through my pubic hair and the longest slipped into my slit and over my clit. My back arched as if controlled by that button and I pressed my breasts against his chest.
“You weren’t lying,” he breathed the words heavily, parted my slick lips and pressed a finger into me.
I gasped, felt my internal muscles clamp, and sought out his lips with mine. I needed to be completely immersed in him, in that moment. The moment someone first touched me in such an intimate way.
Sean kissed me with a passion that was dizzying—or maybe that was all the fumes from the kitchen cleaner?—and I didn’t want him to stop. I’d masturbated, of course, had been doing so regularly for years, but his touch was different. He was testing me, finding out what delighted me, getting to know me in such an intimate way. I wanted to do something for him. But my hands were caught up, and all I could do was run them under his top and feel his tight chest. I rested a palm over his heart and felt just how fast it was beating. As fast as mine? Maybe not quite because I was spiraling into ecstasy. A familiar tightness coiled in the pit of my stomach and between his fingers and my clit. I knew it would take only a little bit more pressure to make me come.
I heard a door creak open and so did Sean because his hand whipped out from my pants and onto the floor behind me.
“God, if I knew this was the way you cleaned the kitchen I’d have agreed to do it for you,” Claire quipped.
Sean sat up and smiled timidly. I followed, my cheeks emblazoned with leftover lust, and awkwardness heightened the heat that focused there.
It was quite possibly the most embarrassing moment in my university career, but I wouldn’t have changed it for the world. It set the tone for the rest of my years there. Sean set free Katrina, even when I was still technically Janet.
Ryan equally struggles with his self-image. He ends up with Eve, a drunk, abusive partner out of guilt and that influences everything he does. He sees himself as a failure, stuck in Thornleydale for the rest of his life, doomed to be an odd job man with no prospects, no future.
When he meets Katrina and has to work in a house he spent so much time in as a child, filled with painful memories, his perspective on life is challenged and begins to change but is he too far entangled in his life of fear and debt or can he get out?
I suppose you’ll have to read the book to find out!
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Bio:
Victoria Blisse is a mother, wife, Christian, Manchester United fan and award winning erotica author. She is also the editor of several Bigger Briefs collections, and the co-editor of the fabulous Smut Alfresco, Smut in the City and Smut by the Sea Anthologies.
Victoria is also one of the brains behind the fabulous Smut events, days dedicated to erotica, fun and prizes. Check out http://smutters.co.uk for more details.
She is equally at home behind a laptop or a cooker and she loves to create stories, poems, cakes and biscuits that make people happy. She was born near Manchester, England and her northern English quirkiness shows through in all of her stories.
Passion, love and laughter fill her works, just as they fill her busy life.
You can find often find Victoria procrastinating on Facebook http://facebook.com/victoriablisse , Twitter http://twitter.com/victoriablisse and Pinterest http://pinterest.com/victoriablisse
To find out more check out http://victoriablisse.co.uk