Tantalizing Stories by Donnee Patrese

I attended a dinner with some of my fellow writers. It was going wonderfully. Yet I was waiting for the question of the night and eventually a new member to the group asked me. “So what do you write?” It was an innocent question. New writers asked us this all the time. I anticipated this question, but I knew that I loathed the many questions that would follow. “I’m in an erotic romance writer.” I saw their eyes and I knew they were already comparing me to E.L James or considering me not a “real writer”. It comes with the turf. So I sat back and waited. “Isn’t erotic romance and oxymoron?” He chuckled. That was a new one. No one had ever asked me that question. I fought my urge to roll my eyes at him.  An oxymoron? Let’s see. What is an oxymoron? An oxymoron is a figure of speech where two opposite or opposed words  seemingly cancel each other out or would seem to be contradictory to each other like “walk slow quickly” or “cruel kindness”. So, is he trying to tell m

Christmas Day I couldn’t sleep all night. I tossed and turned thinking about him and what I should do. When I closed my eyes, I dreamed about fucking him.  My ass would be in the air and I would be taking him deep inside of me. I would come and he would pull out and lick up my juices as they spilled out of my pussy. Though my husband and I argue and have very little sex, I know he loves me and I… I still love him too. He has my heart but Jim, has my body as I yearned for his touch. I would have laid there thinking about this driving myself crazy if it weren’t for my kids. They  were up bright and early ready to open the gifts Santa left for them under the tree. They came running into our room to wake us up and continue to prod us until we followed them down the stairs. The lights on the Christmas tree were lit and some extra gifts daddy and mommy placed late last night where they are to greet them. “Mommy and daddy Santa came.” My little boy screamed. I laughed. “Yes

Christmas Eve... It was a lot colder this Christmas than last year. I turned up the heat in my car and took a breath. I looked out the passenger side window at the red brick apartment building covered in tacky Christmas lights. Some of the lights were out and the rest were flickering. I debated if I was going to spend another Christmas eve in the arms of another man. My body has been yearning for him but my heart was torn in half. My husband and I fight all the time now. He has threatened to move out if I don’t get myself together. We sleep in separate beds some nights and he doesn’t come home some nights for dinner. I love him but I can’t get this other man out of my head. It’s so crazy. I only see him once a year and the rest of the year is terrible. I finally opened the door and stepped out into the cold. My feet crunched on the pile of dirty snow shoveled over by the city salt trucks. I slammed the door and locked it with my keys. I waited until a blue Honda drove past b