Hello there, I have some good news: Chapter Fifteen of Secret Desires is up on Literotica.com now and I have a new story that will be posted there in 4-5 days, but is up on my site now.

Love On the Run is a little story I wrote just for me. I don't read much romance these days, but every now and again I'll write one just for me. Once it's up on Literotica.com people can vote, comment, or favorite it however they want, no offense, but I don't care. I'm sharing it because I know some readers will like to see what I enjoy personally.

This is my vacation. After losing my day job I nearly lost my night job. If that happened, I seriously would have sold off as much furniture as possible, rented a truck, and moved my dog and I to California where I have friends, and it seems more opportunities than here in Chicago. However the night job was salvaged but I'm getting tired of the heaps of bullshit inherent in it. Everyone in my industry is either on drugs, an alcoholic, crazy, or a drama queen. Seriously, I and my honorary brother-in-law who works for me are the only sane ones, and we're both getting worn down by it.

So I'm taking the time between Christmas and New Year's off. I'm mostly playing Candy Crush Saga on Facebook and writing for me. Oh, I'll be back on my writing projects for you all soon, but for now it's me, me, me.

So what is the story about? Well, it's not my personal fantasy, which would be a tall, well-built, physics professor with long blonde hair showing up at my door with a gallon of pudding asking if I enjoyed sploshing and queening, confessing he's a very naughty boy who needs to be punished. I doubt y'all would want to read that, but if you do, let me know and I'll fictionalize it.

No, this is what I wish was in more erotic fiction, or fiction in general. Our heroine is arguably a sociopath. I'm actually sick of that being a dirty word. The best doctors, judges, and Boy Scout Leaders in the world are sociopaths. It's an evolutionary advantage. Think of it this way: you're in a lifeboat with eight people and only enough food/water for seven. Who dies? Do you want to make that decision? No? So leave it to the sociopath who will, with total detachment and logic, discover what's best for the group. That's the point of a brain organized that way, to be able to determine what's best for the group with sentimentality getting in the way.

Now, off that soapbox, I'm sick of the lack of sociopaths on the hero side, and I'm sick of never seeing any women with that ability. And yes, I count it as an ability, not a disability. Enter Jessie Andrews. At seventeen she was left in the care of her step-father who was an abusive drug dealer who made improper advances to her. When he tried to rape her she did what a sociopath would do: she blew his fucking head off, packed her bags, and went to her rich boyfriend for help. He gave her money and she ran to Mexico.

However, she didn't know her step-father Jimmy had five million dollars and a secret belonging to a South American drug lord hidden somewhere. After the murder it was lost, and everyone assumed she has it. At just eighteen she was attacked by her first assassin sent by Diego, the drug lord, and she killed him. Ditto with the next two guys. She didn't lose a night's sleep, she did what needed to be done to survive. 

Fast forward ten years and Jessie has killed three assassins, evaded the rest, escaped from DEA agents on her trail as well as FBI, and lived on the run adapting well. Julian Vasquez is a DEA agent sentenced to desk duty when an assignment goes bad and he's to blame. Working on cold case files he manages to connect the dead hit men and suspects what connects them is Jessie, moving steadily and slowly south along the highways of South America.

In Chile he tracks down a contact who will be selling Jessie a fake passport and smuggle her into Argentina from Chile. Julian comes to town but has no idea the beguiling vixen who seduces him is his target.

This story is basically an examination of love, with the backdrop of mystery and adventure. You see, that's what's going on in my head these days. I'm stuck contemplating what it means. I had a good conversation with a fellow single friend the other night and we're both frustrated at trying to find someone who understands the concept of "you & me against the world." For us both, our last relationships failed when that test came and our partners flung us to the wolves. His solution is to wade back into casual sex and cry himself to sleep, and mine is to be alone watching more porn than any single human really should. We're both miserable, but can't figure out how to fix it, because deep down, we're both terrified of commitment. Fun!

Before you jump to the inevitable conclusion, he's a good friend, and yes, the only time in my adult life I had sex with an established friend was with him a few years back. All it did was teach us A) we're meant to be good friends and nothing else and B) there's a good reason you don't sleep with your friends.

Since my head is there I find it cropping up in my stories. In short, I've been single long enough I'm on that edge of bitterness where you resign yourself to being forever alone and start buying cats. I don't want to go that route but honestly, I'm not sure how to evade it. I guess casual sex and crying myself to sleep like my buddy is the way to go. Hurray! 

Despite all that buried deep down inside me is an optimist. My grandparents were engaged on their first date and truly only parted by death. When you see that kind of deep, abiding love growing up, you know it exists. So yes, Virginia, I do believe in true love. I just also know with my luck my true love has been dead 300 years and his remains will be found by archaeologists in northern China any day.

Until then, I'll write about the struggle to understand and accept love within one's own heart, but lead to the ultimate fantasy each and every one of us holds dear: that love is real, and waiting for us.

Until next time, happy reading!