I have never made a secret of my love of coffee. I can’t function without a generous cup of Americano- black and hot- first thing in the morning. There is certainly no way I could get my words down without its magic imagination enhancing qualities. Caffeine is my addiction of choice…
…apart from words. You could easily make a case for claiming that I am equally addicted to words and writing. I am fascinated by words. How they can about, the way we use them, and the power they have. They are, without doubt, the most powerful weapons on earth. Used thoughtlessly, they can cause great hurt and harm; break hearts, minds and start wars. Used well, and the results can be beyond rewarding.
The inspiration behind my new novella, Wednesday on Thursday, came from my belief in the power of words. What would happen, I wondered, if someone became obsessed with how individuals react to certain words when used in certain situations? Certain erotic situations.
I extended this thought a little by asking myself what might happen if that fascination with behaviour reactions to words was observed through a serious of experiments conducted via crossword puzzles and quizzes.
At this point you may be worrying about how much thinking I do- or you may want to read the blurb.
There are rumours that the coffee guy has “a thing” about words.
Shrugging off her friend’s concern about the way the man in the cafe stares at her every lunch hour, Wednesday can’t see how his love of words could possibly be hazardous.
The fact is, Wednesday rather enjoys being the centre of an attractive man’s undivided attention. His dark blue eyes alone have provided her with many delicious erotic fantasies, a welcome distraction from the pressures of the real world and a dull job.
It’s totally harmless…
…until there’s an accident with a cup of coffee.
After soaking Wednesday with a hot latte, the coffee guy’s attention suddenly becomes far more enticing—and dangerous.
Drawn into a bizarre world of human behavioural research, where crosswords are used to initiate sexual experiments, Wednesday finds herself driven, not by a desire to further scientific research, but by the need to be rewarded for her hard work by the coffee guy’s captivating research assistant.
A stunning redhead by the name of Thursday…
This novella, as the blurb reveals, is a work that combines everything I love. Coffee, cafes (I write all my stories in my local cafe) and words- not to mention sex. Quite partial to that as well – and if pushed, I rather like redheads…
Here is a little taster from Wednesday on Thursday to whet the appetite.
His hands moved so fast that Wednesday didn’t register what was happening until her top was by her ankles. A large palm came to her neck. She was pinned to the spot, and her bra was tugged down until it lodged beneath her breasts. Then a pair of masculine lips greeted her right nipple.
A delicious wave of climactic shock spun her head with images of what the man with the dark blue eyes might do once he tired of feasting on her chest. Of what it would be like to experience his agile tongue lapping at her pussy, over her butt, around her…
Snapping out of her recurring fantasy, Wednesday Taylor blushed. ‘Sorry, Carol. I was thinking.’
‘Again?’ Carol smiled. ‘Come on, who is it that’s captured your imagination and lured it away from the paradise of data input? Every time I look at you you’re miles away.’
‘No one. I was planning a holiday.’
‘If you expect me to believe that, then you must think me blind as well as stupid.’ Perching on the edge of Wednesday’s desk, Carol shoved a pile of papers to one side. ‘It’s that guy from the café, isn’t it?’
‘Which guy?’ Wednesday deliberately kept her eyes on her screen.
‘Come off it, Nez. The one who can’t take his eyes off you. Until you take a quick look at him, that is. Then he studies his espresso cup with an expression that suggests he’s trying to work out its molecular structure.’
‘The man to whom you are referring sits in a corner.’ Wednesday flapped away the suggestion with a wave of her hand. ‘He is automatically observing everyone because his seat oversees the entire cafe. I really was contemplating the advantages of Portugal over Spain.’
Carol rolled her eyes and sighed. ‘If you say so, but be careful.’
‘Use a high factor sun screen on the beach, you mean?’
Getting to her feet, Carol seemed to give up on her pursuit of gossip. ‘Seriously, there are rumours about that bloke. He makes me uneasy.’
Winking playfully, Wednesday said, ‘Rumours? Do tell.’
‘I’m serious! Apparently he has this “thing” for words.’
Putting inverted commas around the word “thing” with her hands as she replied, Wednesday laughed. ‘A “thing” for words. Now that is scary. If you’d said he had a “thing” for sharp blades, I’d have been worried.’
‘I’m serious. It’s weird. He doesn’t just watch the women that appeal to him; he sort of visually dissects them. It’s like he’s hunting for something. Or someone.’
Waiting until Carol had returned to her work, Wednesday opened the top drawer of her desk and stared at the napkin she’d slipped in there an hour ago.
That lunchtime, as usual, Wednesday had been trying not to make it obvious that she was watching the coffee guy as he was watching her, when he’d surprised her by a break in his routine. He had got up to leave the cafe exactly two minutes earlier than usual.
As he passed her table en route to the exit he’d almost brushed her shoulder, but not quite. After dropping a napkin lightly onto her lap without uttering a word of explanation, he’d walked out of the door and disappeared into the afternoon.
Back in the safety of her office, regarding the folded serviette as if it were an unexploded bomb, Wednesday felt her palms prickle with perspiration. By comparison, her throat had gone Sahara dry. Even though he hadn’t looked at her as he’d passed by, Wednesday had the strangest sensation that his inkwell eyes saw straight into her soul. That somehow the coffee guy knew what her late night dreams were about.
And who they featured.
Checking to make sure that Carol wasn’t watching her, Wednesday unfolded the note and read the neat looped writing.
I would very much like to see you, Wednesday, on Thursday. I need to check you weren’t burnt. Regards.
Thursday? That’s tomorrow. But when tomorrow? Did he mean he wanted to apologise for spilling the coffee? If so, why hadn’t he said so before? The accident was days ago. And what did he mean by I need to check?
Wednesday pictured the coffee guy steering her into the nearest secluded area of town, trapping her between a wall and his six foot frame, ripping open her shirt, passing his gaze over her pale flesh to check for burn marks…
A sudden tightening of her chest made Wednesday drop the note and slam her desk drawer shut. If she carried on like this, not only would she fail to get anything done, but she’d be sat in damp panties for the rest of the workday.
Many thanks to my lovely friend and fellow Brit Babe, Lucy Felthouse, for hosting me on her fantastic blog today.
Kay Jaybee was named Best Erotica Writer of 2015 by the ETO, and received an honouree mention at the NLA Awards 2015 for excellence in BDSM writing.
Kay Jaybee has written over 150 erotic stories, including Wednesday on Thursday, (KDP, 2017), The Collector, (KDP, 2016), The Perfect Submissive Trilogy, (The Perfect Submissive, The Retreat, Knowing Her Place, Xcite 2011-14), The New Room, (Xcite, 2015), The Voyeur, (Xcite 2012), Making Him Wait (Sweetmeats, 2012), A Sticky Situation (Xcite, 2013), Digging Deep, (Xcite 2013), Take Control, (1001 NightsPress, 2014), and Not Her Type (1001 NightsPress, 2013.
Details of all her short stories and other publications can be found at www.kayjaybee.me.uk
You can follow Kay on –
Brit Babes Site- http://thebritbabes.blogspot.co.uk/p/kay-jaybee.html
Kay also writes contemporary romance as Jenny Kane – www.jennykane.co.uk