Tag Archives: Freak Parade by Marilyn Jaye Lewis

It’s Good to Think & to Be Smart!

Yes, that is my gentle reminder to you that today is the final day of the Smashwords sale, wherein all of my eBooks that are published with them are FREE to download, in any and all eReader formats.

I’m guessing, though, that you’ve already done that. Still. It’s good to think and to be smart. LOOK at your desktop or at your eReader device! If my eBooks are not in there [Twilight of the Immortal; Freak Parade, and The Muse Revisited Volumes 1-3.], then you’ve forgotten to download them and must hurry and do that today. The final day.

Or at least until the month of July, wherein, Smashwords does it all over again…

However, this means that in those months between January and July, you will have to pay 3 and sometimes as much as 4 dollars to download each of these books. Yes – I said 3 or 4 dollars! It looks like this: $3 or $4. And we don’t want to go that route, do we? Because then, I personally – as the writer- would actually receive most of those dollars. And that could set a very dangerous precedent. I might expect you to start purchasing my newer books forever after that. So let’s just avoid all that potential unpleasantness and go download those books today.

All righty!

Well, unfortunately, the merriment of the holidays is over and I seriously have to get back to work around here.  Someone in LA, who shall remain nameless, had the nerve to email me on New Year’s Eve – albeit, on Pacific Time, so to her, it was not yet dangerously close to the actual moment of merriment. But still. I get an email late last night explaining when & where & how I need to begin the endless hours of Skyping with producers re: my pilot script.

I so don’t want to do this, people, and yet I so have to. It was stressful just looking at the email. Because it isn’t actually Skype – it’s “Skype-like” and so I have to download yet another app and learn how to use it and how to send my script, etc. And I have about 24 hours to figure it out. And I still have not revised my show bible.

I know. I said I was doing it. I also said I was going to stop texting the guy I’m in love with because he’s really busy now and I wanted to give him some space… However, even though I opened the show bible Word file every single day for the past several days, I would simply look at it and my brain would just sort of glaze over with inertia. I got nothing done.

And so now, someone is going to say, “Okay, let’s see what you did!”

ME: “Nothing. I did nothing.”

Not gonna go over well.

THEM: “We were under the impression you were serious about your script and really wanted our input here.”

ME: “I’m not sure what I was thinking when I said that.”


So I kinda gotta scurry around here and get things in shape.

And this also means I will go back to my non-holiday blogging schedule of posting once or twice a week, instead of every day.

Plus, I’ve decided to go back to writing in my journal more and stay offline whenever possible. I’m seriously trying to break my texting habit.  Frankly, I really wish I were addicted to smoking instead of texting. I could light up in the privacy of my own world and just sit & think & smoke, instead of dashing off yet another annoying: “Plus, I just wanted to be clear about…[fill in the blank about what on earth it is that I could possibly be more clear about].”

And with smoking, at least you get that awesome nicotine rush.

Okay, gang. Off I go! Enjoy your New Year’s Day festivities, wherever you are! Thanks for making a quick trip here part of your busy day. Sending you great big bunches of love! See ya!

And I also text…

Oh for heaven’s sake, people!

Okay, I’m just kidding. Nothing makes me happier than having readers download my books, whether or not they’re free.

But, seriously, this is getting insane. I have no clue where all these people are coming from. The numbers long surpassed the amount of followers I have on my blog.  And I only advertised the Smashwords sale on my blog. And only deranged lunatics would download the same eBooks over & over & over, ad infinitum.

And I like to think my followers are not deranged lunatics. It reflects better on me when they aren’t. My followers are all really cool, smart people!

Anyway, it just astounds me.  Where do they come from? And now people are starting to download Freak Parade like crazy. I have no clue why all of the sudden that happened.

And what’s funny is that almost no one downloads Twilight of the Immortal. It has erotic sex scenes in it, but it is certainly not graphic sex. And it is really well written fiction. But nobody wants it! They’d rather have, I don’t know, 5 pages of graphic fellatio or something. It’s just so funny.

I’ll tell you, though, sometimes I read over these old stories (from The Muse Revisited Series) and I am frequently flabbergasted.  The short story titled August on the Lake (in Vol.3) was written expressly for a French publisher and was immediately translated into French (as Aout sur le lac). I think the only English version of the story is in The Muse Revisited.

I was told that, in French, it was a really beautiful story. That it was literature and not the usual smut. (Thank you. I like to think that my entire life is beautiful literature and not the usual smut! Anyway.) I’d forgotten that it was written specifically for a French publisher and for an anthology about: Yes,  fellatio.  And as I re-read it, years after its publication, I was dumbfounded. Why would I go on & on about fellatio here? It was not a topic my work was ever really known for. It actually made me uncomfortable to re-read it. Like, What the hell was on my mind when I wrote this strange story that seems to be, in a lot of ways, about my second husband?

Eventually I figured it out. But really, I don’t remember any of my stories verbatim.  And if I happen to re-read one, it becomes brand new to me, and I’m reading it as any other reader would and oftentimes the stories are a little shocking. Yes, even to me. If a story wasn’t written  for a specified topic, then the stories almost always reflect something that’s going on in my mind, my world, my relationships, my life. (A reflection, not a memoir…) And sometimes it’s just too intense to revisit it.

“Awake in the Dream of Life” was only published once in print (although it’s included in the eBook, Dirty Filthy Lovely: Dark Erotica). A woman originally published it, even though she wasn’t really happy about it but she wanted me in her anthology of popular women writers so she published it – I guess in the category of: Popular Women Writers Who Are Out of Their Fucking Minds.

When I re-read the story several years ago, I was, like, Holy Moly. No wonder women were upset by this story. Men loved it, of course. Men into BDSM, I mean. One of my long-time publishers at the time read the piece and said it was the best thing I ever wrote but that he could never publish a story like that; he wouldn’t want to deal with the reader backlash.

At the time, I just could not understand why people were so upset. But I was in such a bad place and had no clue my mental state had sunk into that. Happily, though, it is now documented for all time! Because I’m a writer and I write stuff and out it goes — into the world!

I’m not even really kidding, you know? It’s one of the reasons I don’t actively seek “followers” on any of my social media accounts. If you want to be following me, thank you. That’s great. It is. But you have to actually want to be here of your own volition because only God knows what I am going to wind up putting into your world.

It was one of the reasons I was actively seeking obscurity. I had no control over the amount of people coming into my world by way of my writing. In the old days, I had thousands and thousands of people reading my blog every day. And those weren’t “followers” because there was no such thing back then. They were actual readers, every day. And nothing I could think or do or say was private anymore. Including, naturally, my family.

MOTHER: “Are you really that much of a drunk??!! Is that all you do is sit around and drink booze??!!”

ME: “Um, no, I was just being funny on the blog.”

COLLEAGUE IN SOME FOREIGN COUNTRY: “Is that what you really think about my writing??!!”

ME: “Um, no, I was just being funny on the blog.”

FATHER: “Is that what you really think about the President of the United States??!!”

ME: “Um, yes, that’s what I really think about the President of the United States.”

And for that comment, I was promptly disowned, disinherited, cast off, forgotten by my adoptive father. Seriously. Blogs can be a real pain, and sometimes damaging to me, when people are actually reading them.

But my attempts to live here in Crazyland in obscurity have come to naught.  I mean, I don’t want my career to be obscure. I just wanted my private life to be obscure within the town I am living. But it just doesn’t work if you have a blog that people read. Obscurity is an impossibility.

The other day, when I said that Kara was my only friend out here in the Hinterlands, someone wrote to me, personally, and reminded me that she was my friend, too. Oh gosh.  Of course you are. I’m so sorry if I hurt your feelings. I had no idea you were reading my blog…

And then also the other day, my niece, who doesn’t live too awfully far from Crazyland, sent me a link to an essay she wrote. She wants to be a writer, like me. It was a good piece of writing, but it was all about how she struggles with depression.

And I was, like: No, no, no! This is not acceptable. You were born to have a life that was better than mine.

When my niece was born, it was at a time in my life and in my marriage when I was coming to grips with the fact that I was going to remain childless. I was so excited for my brother when his daughter was born. And I was excited for me, too. A little girl, connected to me, who gets to have a much, much better life than mine was. A life not full of the garbage I had to deal with. And yet, all these years later, she’s dealing with depression. And here I blog about my crippling depressions and I guess I make it seem somehow okay.

But it’s not. It’s not an acceptable way to live. Her life is supposed to be better than mine.

Well, how is she supposed to know that, I had to ask myself; if you ignored her for most of her life?

Because I had a falling out with my brother – but the outcome for my niece was still the same. I was gone from her life from the time she was 4.

Choosing obscurity, choosing to isolate – I see now that it isn’t really very fair to other people, because they still exist. I know I still have to find a balance between the people who are toxic to me and the people who aren’t; and how to protect my private life but still be a public writer. But I’ve got to deal with it.

That balance is tricky for me, but I’m learning. When I consulted that reader in London a couple weeks ago, as a Christmas present for myself, I knew I was having some very serious problems with my mind. I needed help finding my balance; to feel grounded again, to get clarity.  How to show up in the world as myself, and not to detach and dissociate.

The reader in London was so helpful to me. He really was. He told me what I needed to work on, 3 times a day for twenty minutes each time. And he said, “Stick with it, and in 3 days things will begin to turn around. And if you stay with it for a month, you will be amazed by the difference in your life.”

Well, he was certainly correct.  Everything is changing, sort of at warp speed. And I think this indescribable frenzy of eBook downloads is part of the river of change. That flow. Suddenly, more and more people are also following the blog, and all my other social media accounts. People are just suddenly showing up, you know? Including my niece. And yesterday, even Mob Guy #2 returned very suddenly and said, “Please, Marilyn. Come on.  I’m still waiting for you to come back to me.”

What the heck??!! Where did you come from all of the sudden??!! (My answer was still no, but it was nice to be so suddenly thought of, so intensely.)

I mean, it’s certainly not bad stuff, but it is a lot of stuff. And I have to step up and be accountable for all of it, even the stuff that I totally fucked-up and can’t repair, because I’m not obscure. I do exist in the world. So. It has been very, very interesting. To say the least.

Okay, you guys have a wonderful weekend. Thanks for visiting Crazyland!! I’m always happy to see your bright, shining faces. I love you guys! Take care and see ya.

PS: I don’t actually live in Crazyland. It’s a play on words – on the name of the actual town I live in, which was founded by  a Mr. Samuel Frazey in 1828.

Best gift ever??!!

I think maybe it is, folks!

Kara, basically my one & only friend out here in the Hinterlands – and she’s from New York originally, so I guess that explains it.

But anyway. As luck would have it, Kara has been reading my novel, Freak Parade. We got together for dinner in town last night and to go see a play  (a revival of Gypsy), and she brought me a Christmas present!

This is not an appeal for anyone to read Freak Parade, it’s just that, in the book, the main character, Eugenia Sharpe, always  drinks Wild Turkey & Diet Coke.  And this is what Kara got me – a bourbon flask!!

How cool is that, really? How intensely targeted and thoughtful.

Yes, I used to also drink Wild Turkey & Diet Coke. But let’s not have that conversation again about  fiction versus memoir!

I don’t drink Wild Turkey anymore – I can’t handle hard liquor since becoming a vegetarian.  But I was still overjoyed to receive this gift and will just treasure it forever.

It is so wonderful to have a friend and to have the friendship just happen organically, you know? It’s not based on any sort of networking at all. Knowing Kara has really been incredible.  I’ve blogged about her before – she is definitely on her own planet, but it’s a planet I always enjoy visiting.

At one point, I finally told her I was a writer and she started not only buying my books, but also reading them! And we’re still friends. Go figure…

I don’t tell anyone out here that I’m a writer.  I came out here to the Hinterlands, to this wonderful, tiny, crazy town, to live in obscurity.  To have no past for anyone to know about; no career; no identity. In fact, I always remove my middle name from everything out here because it makes me even more intensely obscure once my middle name is removed.  I try to be friendly and everything when I’m actually out in the town and have to interact with people, but mostly I settled here because I just wanted to be a woman who practically didn’t exist anymore except when I was upstairs at my desk, all alone, writing.

In the last 15 years or so, I systematically lost pretty much everything in my life that meant anything to me. All I had left was my writing, and then my ministry. And I found a way to be content with that. I really thought that was going to be my life – writing, house in the middle of nowhere, 8 semi-feral cats, cemetery plot up the road.

I was so totally okay with that until I fell in love. And then everything inside  me changed and my head exploded. (I think that exploding head is what caused me to lose my mind – just a wild guess. Perhaps it’s on the floor here somewhere…) And then suddenly I wanted EVERYTHING.

Just everything.

But wait, I know what that means – it means you will once again lose everything. I can’t go there again, can I? The prospects of all that loss will kill me.

But who knows, right? I just gotta learn how to wake-up in the morning and try not to make everybody crazy right along with me. A tall order these days, gang! But I’m working on it.

And speaking of work… I gotta get back to the new novel today. So I’m off!

Enjoy Thursday, wherever you are in the world! Thanks for visiting. In spite of everything I grumble about, I’m real glad our paths are crossing, gentle readers. I mean that. See ya!

Yes, I Want You! The beginning of the end of sanity around here….

Smashwords Sale Begins Today

Merry Christmas, gang!

It’s that time of year again. The Smashwords sale starts today and runs through January 1st.

All of my eBooks that are published on Smashwords are available as FREE downloads, in all eBook formats until New Year’s Day.

This includes:

Twilight of the Immortal;
Freak Parade;
The Muse Revisited, Volume 1: Early Erotica;
The Muse Revisited, Volume 2: Erotic Novellas & Longer Works;
and The Muse Revisited, Volume 3: More Early Erotica.

Since today is Christmas, I thought I’d post an excerpt from Freak Parade, wherein our 2 main love interests – Eugenia Sharpe and Eddie Ramirez – resume that tortuous process of falling in love, and it takes place on Christmas Eve.

Freak Parade was sort of the turning point in my career, in that it came along in 2005, just as the publishing industry was starting to have some huge financial upheavals. Even though I was a steady seller in a niche market, publishers were shying away from niche markets in droves.

(That’s sort of an interesting image, isn’t it? To shy away from something in droves?)

Anyway, my agent shopped Freak Parade for 5 years. Every publisher except one loved the book but would not publish it because it was impossible to pigeon hole it; to label it. And they only wanted easy, massive sales.

Freak Parade is not an easy sell. It is literary with tons of graphic sex. It’s a romantic love story but it has rape, drugs, and violence in it. It has lots of gay, lesbian, and bisexual BDSM sex in it, even while it is primarily a heterosexual love story. And it’s also a book about how racist New York City is towards Puerto Ricans.

So, 5 years into it, I told my agent to stop shopping it and that I would publish the book myself. Even though it primarily sells as an eBook nowadays, when I published it in 2011, it was primarily a trade paperback book. It was my first time involved in the editing, formatting, designing, and packaging of a print book from start to finish. And, to my delight, Freak Parade took home the Silver Medal that year at the Independent Publisher Book Awards in New York.

So here is an excerpt from Chapter 15, it runs about 8 pages. 

Merry Christmas, everybody and thanks for visiting! I love you guys!!


Freak Parade

When I got down to the street, Eddie Ramirez was waiting in the falling snow, in a black cashmere coat and faded blue jeans. He looked too sexy, too indescribably tall, dark and handsome. It all came back to me now of course, just how handsome he was. I recalled him perfectly now, every chiseled angle of his face and the spark of fire in his gleaming brown eyes.

“Look at you, mami,” he cried. “I didn’t know you had such long hair. You’re such a little white girl – like an Ivory girl. You’re even prettier than I remembered.”

“Hi, Eddie.”

He held his arms open for me and I went right into them, effortlessly, like I’d done it all my life, like I hadn’t agonized over how he’d slipped right through my fingers every night for a tortuous week. He kissed me right on the mouth. “I didn’t think I would ever see you again, Boo.” He squeezed me tight. “No,” he corrected himself, “no that’s not true. I knew I was going to see you again. I wasn’t gonna have it any other way. But I couldn’t understand why you left me like that; I couldn’t make sense of it. And that Frankie – shit. She is so hard to reach on the phone, have you noticed that about her? I don’t have a phone of my own. I gotta go down to the street to the payphone if I want to call somebody, and then she never picks up. So tonight, I’d had it. I went over to her apartment and I waited in front of her building until somebody let me in. Then I pounded on her door until she opened up. I knew she was in there. She was in there with Pablo so I don’t have to tell you what they were doing – and I don’t mean fucking, excuse my language. Give it a rest already with the eight ball, you know? All I wanted was seven little numbers. How long can that take?” He finally paused to take a breath. “I called you twice, mami, but the first time, nobody answered. I’m so glad I tried again.”

Held in his arms like that, the scent of his incredible cologne was soon permeating my brain again, edging me into a swoon in record time.

“And how was your week?” he asked.

I didn’t even want to think about my week. I wanted to pretend my week had never happened. I was afraid it might break this phantom spell, this spell of Eddie Ramirez filling my senses. “It wasn’t so good, but it’s over. I just want to move on.”

“Whatever you say, mami.” He took my hand and we started walking. “Starting now, we’ll just move on.”

When he took my hand in his the thrill of it shot down to the center of my womb, the spark was that primal. He had such masculine hands. I wanted to be naked and at the mercy of those hands. But I couldn’t say a thing like that. I had to keep a lid on all the shooting sparks. I didn’t want to blow this chance again. Yet I wanted to say something – something extraordinary – but I had no words that could match the crackling sound my whole body was burning to make.

What was with this guy, I wondered. Why did he make me feel so breathless? At least it hadn’t been a figment of my imagination, I thought gratefully; that hypnotic trance we’d been in at the Sidecar Lounge had been real.

“So,” he said.

“So?” I looked up at him expectantly. Specks of snow had fallen into his thick brown hair and were melting there.

“You and me, we have some unfinished business, don’t we, mami?” He said this with such quiet authority, it made my pulse jump. Wow. He definitely had that daddy thing going on. I hadn’t counted on that. My electrified womb was quickly turning to a big quiver of Jell-O.

“What does that mean,” I asked; “Unfinished business?”

“We had something going there and you left me.”

Which reminded me: “Hey, did you really bring me flowers?”

“Yes I did, and do you know how far I had to walk to find a store that was selling flowers at that hour? Why did you leave me, mami? We hadn’t even said goodbye.”

“Well, I didn’t know you were buying me flowers. I thought you’d ditched me.”

“How could I ditch you? Mami, you were making me crazy. Don’t you remember what you were doing to me? I couldn’t hold you close enough.”

“Yes,” I said. “I remember.”

“And you think I get crazy like that for just any female? I can have my pick of the females on a Friday night, mami, trust me. And none of them get me as worked up as you do.”

Wow. What was he saying? I was almost afraid to find out for sure. I didn’t want this little bubble of delight bursting right in my face. “But you didn’t say where you were going. You were the one who left me sitting there all by myself. And besides,” I added half-heartedly, not wanting to remember but needing to plead my case, “my ride came.”

He put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer to him. “Your ‘ride’ came. Right.” He looked down at me disapprovingly. “And I hope you enjoyed your little ride because it certainly wasn’t a ride home – we found that out right away. You better be careful on those little two a.m. rides, mami, there are some freaky motherfuckers in this town.”

Ouch. No way on earth did I ever want him to know how right he was or how much I regretted that ride; now more than ever, I wanted Taddeo Fischetti to be a past chapter in a closed book. A book I was going to douse in gasoline and set on fire.

“I guess you think it isn’t any of my business,” he went on, “and maybe it isn’t. It’s just that I’ve been around, in places that pretty white girls like you shouldn’t even know about and I’ve seen some sick shit happen to females who were too stupid to be careful. It’s no joke what goes on out there.”

“I know,” I said.

“Right – you know,” he said doubtfully.

We walked as far as Fourteenth Street then we crossed Second Avenue and headed back down towards Chas’s place. The snow was beginning to stick. With so little traffic out, even the streets were taking a light dusting of pure white snow and holding it. I knew it wouldn’t last long, that purity. But for now, it was beautiful. The entire night was beautiful. It was Christmas Eve and for once, it actually felt sacred. The twinkling Christmas lights strung on all the fire escapes were ethereal now in all that snow. It was snow that was coming straight from heaven.

“So what are you doing tomorrow,” I asked. “Are you going to be with your family?”

“No, moms isn’t exactly speaking to me these days so I’m steering clear of her until she gets over it. And she’s pretty much all I got.”

“But what about your kid? Aren’t you going to see him on Christmas?”

“I already saw him. His mother gave me about five minutes with him this evening before she started picking a fight with me, so I had to clear out of there. It always gets ugly with her and then the kid starts crying. It’s almost better to not even go.”

“That’s sad. Where does he live, your son?”

“Over in the projects, on Avenue D. I seriously doubt you’d be familiar with it.”

I wondered if that was where Pablito lived, in the projects on Avenue D.

“And what are you doing on Christmas?” he continued. “Where’s your family, mami?”

“Far away from here; I almost never see them anymore.”

“Have you lived in the city a long time?”

“Long enough – fifteen years.”

“That’s definitely long enough. So you came all the way out here from wherever you came from just to work in a store? Isn’t there something else you’d rather be doing?”

“I don’t know what I want to be doing, but no I didn’t come out here to work in a store. I came out here to be a singer, I wrote songs.”

“So what happened? Why aren’t you doing that?”

“I already did it.”

“You did? Weren’t you any good at it?”

“I was. I just didn’t like it.”

“Really? You were good at it? Did you make CDs and shit like that?”

“Yeah, shit like that.”

We’d reached St. Mark’s Church now. It looked idyllic in the falling snow. We stopped and leaned against the iron fence. He said, “You made CDs, really? Anything I would have heard of? I listen to white music, you know. I listen to all kinds of music.”

“I only made one CD and you probably have heard of it. It was called Alarmed at Carnegie.”

He looked at me, puzzled, like it was ringing a distant bell. Then he said, “Hey, I know that one. That was you, mami?”

“That was me. My real name is Eugenia Sharpe.”

“That’s you, mami? Shit, you’re famous.”

“Well, I was.”

“How come somebody famous like you knows a female like Frankie? And what are you doing living downtown, taking a walk with a poor Puerto Rican like me? You’re one of those uptown girls. I can tell.”

“Not anymore.”

“Sure you are, mami,” he said. “You might not be living there right this minute, but you’re still an uptown girl. Put it this way, you ever want to move back uptown, you can, like that.” He snapped his fingers. “In a heartbeat. Me? I want to move uptown? It’s not so easy. Maybe as the super of somebody’s building, they’ll let me move uptown. I mean, I’m a plumber. I work on boilers and shit. I know my way around steam heat. But just to live uptown and enjoy myself? It’s not gonna happen.”

“Why do you say it like that, Eddie?”

He made a face, like he couldn’t believe his ears. “Well, you think about it. When you were living uptown, how many of your closest neighbors were Puerto Ricans?”

I’d never actually thought about it and now I was kind of appalled. He was right. There were plenty of Puerto Ricans uptown, even in Darryl’s building – Carlos, for instance. But none of them actually lived there; they lived farther up, thirty or forty blocks up. Strange that I’d never noticed that before. Where the hell had I been? All that time on Central Park West and my brain had still been living in a downtown world.

“What’s that look for?” he said quietly, his finger tip landing gently on the tip of my freezing nose. “Don’t feel bad about it. You didn’t make the rules.”

“There aren’t any rules, Eddie. Times are different now. You can live wherever you want to, if you can afford it, I guess.”

He leaned up against me, pressing me against the iron fence. There was that scent again, right up my nose, filling my head. The pressure of his body against mine felt so comforting, so full of promise. I wanted to make love with him, for sure. It was going to have to happen at some point. I was going to be naked with this man somehow, some day.

He kissed my mouth tenderly and smiled. He said, “You’re living in a dream world, my little white girl. There are rules. Trust me. And they are written in stone.”

I simply didn’t agree with him, but I didn’t want to argue. I wanted to be kissed some more.

I put my arms around him. “Nice coat,” I said.

“I know. Cashmere. But it’s old. I used to have a lot of nice things.”

“Used to?”

“Yeah. I had money once. Lots and lots of money.”

That sounded familiar. “Really? You, too? You’re kidding?”

“No, mami, why would I kid you?”

“Well, how did you get all that money, as a plumber?”

“No, mami, not as a plumber.”

“Well, how?”

“Just think about it. Where does a poor Puerto Rican living in the projects ever get lots and lots of money?”

I didn’t understand, or maybe I just didn’t want to.

“It’s an old formula,” he explained patiently. “You get rich quick but it doesn’t last. You wind up either dead or in jail.”

I stared at up him blankly, losing track of what he was saying, enchanted yet again by his perfect lips, his sensuous mouth.

“Drugs, mami. But that’s over now. Now I work for a living, so I have no money at all. Funny how that works out.” The tiny diamond in his left ear winked at me.

Drugs. Shit. Well, since he wasn’t dead it only left one thing. “Does this mean you were in jail? In Ryker’s?”

Mami, what would you know about a place like Ryker’s?”

“Nothing. But just tell me.”

“It’s Christmas Eve. Let’s talk about happier things.”

“Okay,” I relented, not wanting to know about anything that might spoil my vision of his perfection – not yet. “Kiss me again,” I said.

“That’s more like it, Boo.”

He kissed me again and his mouth opened this time, our tongues meeting with that sweet urgency, quickly becoming the focal point of the whole quiet, snow-covered world. He stopped briefly to unbutton his coat and then to unzip my jacket. “For later when I’m alone,” he explained, pulling our warm bodies up close, mashing us together. “It helps me to imagine you, you know? All your curves that are in all the right places; I try to picture what you look like.” Those large, capable hands of his held my face tenderly as he kissed me again. “When you’re naked,” he added, “you know what I’m saying? I try to picture what you look like.” He was already hard. He pressed up against me insistently. “God, I missed you, Boo. Did you miss me?”

That was putting it mildly. “I missed you,” I assured him, my head swimming.

“Sometimes it seemed like you were just a dream, I could barely remember you at all. But I couldn’t forget this, how your body made me feel, mami. That part was no dream. I wish I could take you home with me. I wish I had a home to take you to.”

“What do you mean? You don’t have a home?”

“Not a real one, not right now. I have a room in a sort of shelter. It’s a horrible place but it has heat – it’s mostly for homeless people who have AIDS. It’s run by a retired priest I know. He’s old now. I do plumbing for him, construction, odd jobs; things like that. So I don’t pay rent there. But maybe it’s better this way, taking our time. Maybe we shouldn’t rush, you know? I don’t want you to disappear again.”

“I’m not going to disappear, trust me. I won’t. I’d invite you upstairs for some wine or something, but my roommate has company. It’s his apartment. He’s letting me stay there for awhile so I don’t want to crowd him.”

“He has a lady up there, right now?”

“No, he’s gay.”

This news took Eddie off guard. “You live with a fag, mami?”

“He’s not ‘a fag,’ he’s gay. And he’s one of my best friends.”

“Forget it. I didn’t mean anything. I just don’t get along with fags, is all, or with gays. Whatever. They hit on me constantly. They’re aggressive about it and I’m not into guys. I just want to mind my own business, you know?”

“I know, but I can see why they’d hit on you.”

“And why’s that?” he asked. His dark eyes glistened in that promising, irresistible way. He rocked himself against me rhythmically. “Why do you suppose men are always hitting on me, Boo?”

I knew he was playing dumb, but I went for the bait anyway. “Because you’re gorgeous, Eddie. Who wouldn’t want to have sex with you?”

“Is that so? What about you, mami?” His cock felt rock hard now, pushing up against me. I was aching between my legs, totally aroused, going quietly mad for him. “Do you want to have sex with me?” he asked.

I couldn’t believe I was blushing but I knew I was, as if no one had ever asked me a question like that before. In fact, too many people had asked me that question and yet this time my desire to say yes, I want to have sex with you overwhelmed me.

“What did you say?” he asked softly. “I didn’t hear you.”

“What was the question again?”

“Do you want to have sex with me?”

I smiled but I didn’t reply.

“You want to know what I think?”

“Yes,” I said.

“I think I should get you back home. You’re covered in snow, you know. You should go in before you catch pneumonia.”

I moaned in disappointment. I wasn’t ready to let him go. He zipped up my jacket for me and headed across the street. With a heavy heart, I followed his tracks in the snow. He kissed me again when we were just inside the doorway. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”


“I promise,” he said. “I’ll make a special trip down to the street just to use the pay phone. I’m going to think of you tonight, you know what I mean, right?”


“Will you think of me?’


He shook his head. “You’re such a little white girl.”

“Merry Christmas, Eddie.”

“Merry Christmas,” he said.


© 2011 Marilyn Jaye Lewis



Listen up, you cats & kittens!

UPDATE: There were some formatting errors in The Muse Revisited Volume II: Erotic Novellas & Longer Works, specifically in Necessary to her Good and A Picture in a Frame. If you are having trouble downloading this volume, please try again later today.

 For anyone who already downloaded this title and wants the corrected version, this title will remain free for one more week.

This is it, gang. The final countdown. You have until midnight tonight, Pacific Time, to download any/all of my eBooks that are published on Smashwords — for FREE.

After that, you will have to cough up at least three — and often as much as FOUR — whole dollars to download those same eBooks! (Or, of course, wait until the Winter Sale, where everything becomes free again…) (Its no wonder I never make any money, is it??)

However, that said… I really appreciate that so many of you have taken the time to download my books.  Here, again, are the direct links. And, as always, here is my Extreme Cautionary Warning to those readers who have only known me as an (award-winning!!) script writer:

Freak Parade and The Muse Revisited Volumes 1-3 are exceptionally explicit (award-winning!) literary erotica, often with bisexual BDSM themes and with overtones of what is now termed  “questionable consent”. These titles are not aimed at the average reader and could be considered upsetting or extremely offensive.

However, Twilight of the Immortal is historical fiction, not literary erotica.

If you’d like to know more about any of these titles before downloading, use the drop down menu on the  upper right of this page, under “About Marilyn Jaye Lewis”.

Here are the links to my titles on Smashwords:

Okay, thanks for visiting! See ya!


The clock is ticking!!

There are only 12 days left to download for FREE all of my eBook titles that are published on Smashwords!

A ton of you (well, hundreds) have already taken full advantage of this opportunity in the last 20 days! There are only 12 days left to get over there and download for free.

If you’re new to the blog, or to my earlier career, Freak Parade and The Muse Revisited Volumes 1-3 are exceptionally explicit (award-winning!) literary erotica, often with bisexual BDSM themes and with overtones of what is now termed  “questionable consent”. These titles are not aimed at the average reader and could be considered upsetting or offensive.

However, Twilight of the Immortal is historical fiction, not literary erotica.

Here are the links to my titles on Smashwords:

Okay, thanks for visiting! Have a  wonderful weekend, wherever it takes you. See ya!



Smashwords Summer eBook Sale Begins Today

As promised!

All my titles published on Smashwords, in all eReader formats, are entirely free to download for the month of July.

Here are the links to my titles on Smashwords:

Enjoy, gang! Have a terrific Sunday, wherever you are in the world! Thanks for visiting. See ya.