It’s been ten years since I first wrote my linked anthology style novel, The Collector, and almost eight years since it was first published.
Recently the rights to the original books manuscript returned to me, and so I decided to re-edit the whole book, give it a brand new cover, and to add in 2 HOT NEW STORIES!
With the re-release of this, my very first solo full length piece on the 17th May, I’ve found myself looking back to The Collector’s origins. It all began one early morning sat in a crowded coffee shop at Heathrow airport, while I was talking to a very dear friend on the phone, while awaiting a flight.
It was due to that brief conversation that, not only was the idea for The Collector conceived, but that I privately made the decision to stay in the world of erotica writing, and not branch out to try my luck with other genres.
Blurb
Gathering salaciously erotic stories against an everyday backdrop of bus trips, train journeys, coffee shops, and restaurants, The Collector documents a wide variety of sexual encounters as she travels Great Britain.
The Collector’s research takes her into every arena of the erotic experience, from love, lust, submission and dominance, to voyeurism and beyond.
Are you brave enough to see if it was your supposedly private conversation she overheard – and then wrote down?
Before writing The Collector I’d already had a far number of short stories published, and was bursting with plenty of ideas for new ones. However, I wanted to write something longer; something that was as long as a novella or short novel, but which had the variety of an anthology.
I digress…so there I was sat sipping coffee at the airport when my friend called me. All he said down the phone was “go buy The Observer newspaper.” Curious, I did just that, and there, between a front cover shot of Joan Collins, and a back cover advert for new encyclopaedia’s, was an article all about female erotica writers.
Back then, erotica was an even more of a hidden world than it is now, and as I read I knew I wanted to stay part of it. Enthused with new zip and a determination to be every bit as successful as those brave women revealing their secret writing persona’s to the press, I extracted my ever ready notebook from my bag, and began to look at the people around me. I wanted to write- but where to start? As I watched the ever moving crowd, I began to wonder what each individual would want me to write for them. What would their fantasies be? What kinky secrets of their own would they share given half the chance?
It was from these musings that the idea for The Collector was born. A book of stories ‘collected’ by a woman in pursuit of as many sexual exploits as she could. And what better way to start, than to combine my own dream to one day be a successful writer of erotica, and the fantasy of one of my other friends, who (like so many others, be they male or female) visualises being picked up by a beautiful intelligent woman for sex in a no strings attached way. This story became, New Territory, the first of kinky work within The Collector; a tale which had been completely drafted by the time my plane reached its destination.
My search then began in earnest for interesting triggers, ideas, and sexy dreams, to turn into stories. Some very short to stimulate the readers imagination, such as Jay (a lesbian night club orgy) and Crushed (an interesting way to pass the time in a bar queue). Others much longer, such as Sweets (a must read if you like liquorice) and Treasure (a young man’s dream come true!).
I knew it would be a gamble including the very short tales- as they either really appeal, or really frustrate- but on the whole the feedback from my reader’s has been good. It would also be true to say, the shorter stories were much harder to write than the longer ones, but were a lot of fun to construct around the fantasy’s I gleaned from my sources of research.
So- how much of The Collector did I really collect? Well- that would be telling, but if I haven’t thanked my sources of inspiration already, then I do now!
It has been a joy to add 2 new stories to the mix! So, if you have already read The Collector, there is something new for you to discover within its pages in the shape of The Scottish Fantasy and Wrong.
The Collector is available as an e-book. It will be available as a paperback very soon!
Buy The Collector now, or read as part of your Kindle Unlimited subscription: http://getbook.at/thecollector
Extract – The Scottish Fantasy
Stacie gasped as the door opened. The dark shine to the man’s slate eyes as he regarded her and her friend Kate was in danger of taking Stacie’s breath away, and he hadn’t even spoken yet.
Tall, broad, with a tanned face and short spiked hair, a hint of stubble shadowed his square chin. Obviously surprised to see two young women walking through the woods so late on a winter’s afternoon, the ranger ushered them inside his wooden hut.
Introducing himself as Rob—Like Rob Roy! Stacie’s inner voice shouted at her. How perfect is that!—he looked at them enquiringly, ‘I dunna ken what you’re doin’ here, hens.’
Stacie’s brow furrowed. She’d thought that the Scottish spoke English.
Kate laughed as she saw her friend’s confused expression. ‘He means he doesn’t understand what we want, honey. “Dunna ken” means “don’t know” and “hen” is the local term for girl.’ Turning toward the ranger, Kate smiled. ‘This is Stacie, and I’m Kate. Stacie hasn’t got her ear geared into the local accent yet; she’s American.’
‘I guess that means an American accent.’ The ranger spoke so softly, Stacie felt herself melting on the spot. ‘I rather like those.’
Ignoring her friend, whose eyes were on stalks, leaving her in no doubt that Stacie was on an internal lust trip, Kate said, ‘We’re really sorry to bother you so late, but could you tell us where we are? We seem to be on a much longer trail than we intended to be, and we’ve lost the track.’
Rob’s dark eyes bored into her as she spoke. Kate couldn’t decide if their presence mildly amused him, or if he was merely tolerating the interruption to his work.
‘We’ve run out of water as well. Could we fill up our bottles here, please?’
‘It’s a good job you stopped, hen.’ The ranger pulled a map off his cluttered desk and pointed a thick finger at a red dotted line. ‘You’re here, on the all day walk. It’s called that for sound reasons.’
Lost in an erotic daydream, Stacie wasn’t listening to a word he said, just to the sound of his voice; the beautiful, gentle burr of his accent. She judged it fitted neatly half way between Ewan McGregor and Sean Connery.
When Kate had invited her friend over from the States for a couple of weeks exploring the Grampians of Scotland, Stacie had been thrilled. Not only could she catch up with her gorgeous friend and occasional lover, she could visit an area of the world that had always held a fantasy for her. Kilts, burly men in tight white vests, cabers being tossed, heather, whiskey, and mountains topped with snow.
The heather and mountains were a reality sure enough, as were the late night tots of warming whiskey she’d shared with Kate as they snuggled up together in the king-sized bed their Deeside hotel room provided. But until now, in this ranger’s office, hidden away in the woods near the flooded caves of Burn O’Vat, Stacie hadn’t seen anyone who even came close to the Celtic man of her late night fantasies.
Stacie felt mesmerised by the ranger. Despite the coldness of the late winter air he wore no coat, and his green sweater sleeves were rolled back to show arms honed by hard work. Forget kilts, this was as close to perfection as Stacie’s Scottish fantasy was ever going to get.
‘I’ll fill your bottles right enough, but if you’ll heed my advice, you’ll go back on the route you came. Far quicker and safer. It’ll be dark in about two hours.’
‘Thanks, I think we’ll do that.’ Kate watched as he took their empty water bottles over to his sink. His back view was as stunning as his front. The goldfish expression on Stacie’s face told her girlfriend that she was mentally undressing him, and Kate began to do the same. Well aware that Stacie had serious fantasy issues where Scottish men were concerned, Kate wondered just how turned on her friend was. Did she have damp knickers? Were her nipples hard?
As Kate’s thoughts rambled, her own arousal began to tweak up a notch. Perhaps… She took a deep breath. Well, why not?
‘It must be lonely here, on your own all day.’ Kate knew the line was a bit lame, but she didn’t care. A sideways glance at Stacie showed that her lover had understood her intentions, and approved.
Rob didn’t look round. He didn’t need to. He could sense the two sets of eyes on his back; they were almost scorching him. Taking his time to fill the second bottle, the ranger thought the situation through.
Two of them, both hot totty. One a blonde, one a redhead. One English. One American. A tasty combination. Their bulky winter coats, sensible walking trousers and boots didn’t give much away, but he was willing to bet that once all the layers were off, they would be a sight to behold. He could be wrong, he supposed, but maybe…
Rob replied to Kate’s question. ‘I like it well enough, hen. I ken it’s quiet, but I like peace and quiet.’
‘So, you don’t get… lonely, then?’ Kate knew she was being blatant, but she didn’t care. If she could pull this off, it would be the perfect holiday present for her friend. Stacie, her mouth dry with anticipation, stepped forward. Pulling off her gloves to reveal pale hands with violently clashing purple nail-varnished tips, she took the full bottles from Rob’s hands. Making certain her fingers brushed his as she did so.
‘Thank you,’ Stacie purred as she passed one of the bottles to her partner. The tacit standoff that followed as tension rippled through the small office room-cum-workshop was eventually broken by Rob.
‘Would you lassies like something to warm you up before you go?’ His sentence, delivered in a deadpan tone, could have been suggesting something as mundane as sharing of a mug of hot chocolate, but his sparkling eyes hinted at so much more.
Stacie’s pulse quickened as Kate casually replied, ‘Well, if it’s not too much trouble, that would be lovely.’ Another normal sentence, but packed with enough eyelash-fluttering that she might as well have screamed out ‘Fuck us now!’
‘I was about to light the fire.’ Rob knelt at a small grate, already neatly piled with kindling. ‘Perhaps you’d like to lose your jackets for a while. When this takes, this place gets pretty hot.’
The girls’ eyes were drawn to the hopping, spluttering flames. They threw their coats over their backpacks, which they’d already dumped by the front door.
Taking his time with the fire, the ranger didn’t stir from where he crouched until it had taken to his satisfaction, and was smoking nicely up the chimney. Then, with a measured movement, he stood and faced his guests, who with unspoken agreement had divested themselves of far more than just their coats. Somehow Rob managed to keep his face passive as his eyes travelled from the top of each girl’s head down to their toes.
They stood naked. Holding hands. So, lovers in their own right, then. Nice. He smiled. It had been over fifteen years since he’d been with two women at the same time. A memory that kept him warm during the dark winter days and nights as he guarded the woodland and its wildlife.
Deciding against comment, Rob took a silent moment to choose which girl he’d treat rough and which one he’d simply treat. Then, with a pace that neither girl would have associated with the man whose previous movements had been so controlled and steady, he stripped…
Buy The Collector now, or read as part of your Kindle Unlimited subscription: http://getbook.at/thecollector
Bio
For over a decade Kay Jaybee has lived a nomadic existence across the British Isles, collecting stories as she travels.
Kay Jaybee was named Best Erotica Writer of 2015 by the ETO
Kay received an honouree mention at the NLA Awards 2015 for excellence in BDSM writing.
Kay Jaybee wrote 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 –
Twitter- https://twitter.com/kay_jaybee
Facebook –http://www.facebook.com/KayJaybeeAuthor
Goodreads- http://www.goodreads.com/user/show/3541958-kay-jaybee
Brit Babes Site- http://thebritbabes.blogspot.co.uk/p/kay-jaybee.html
BLURB-
…What I really loved about this book was the fact it all felt very real. The author herself admitted that there are embellishments on some of the stories, and that some have come purely from her imagination. But what makes it so interesting is the fact that the erotic escapades between the covers of the book could happen.
Bio
Maddie Templeton has always been an unconventional artist. Themes of submission and domination pulse through her erotic artwork, and she’s happily explored these lustful themes both on and off the canvas.
Fourteen of the very best erotic tales of dominance, submission, bondage, and romantic lust, are delivered with lashings of kink from the pen of Kay Jaybee. From the sexual adventures recalled by a woman as she stares at her favourite shirt, to a deliciously dirty orgy on a bed of cardboard boxes, the after-hours education of a rookie soldier, and the bizarre obsession of an Egyptologist, each story shows why Kay Jaybee has been hailed as ‘a master of the craft of erotica’ (Oysters and Chocolate). As a girl writes messages of lust on the body of her best friend’s lover, and a mistress’s employment of ropes and chains on her slave co-insides with the application of emulsion, we discover just how Kay has earned her reputation for producing ‘super-heated kinky stories,’ (Kd Grace), which are ‘a sublime pleasure to read’ (Violet Blue).
The Collector sits silently alone, engrossed in her tales of lust, submission and dominance. Has she already engraved your erotic exploits on her salacious list?
All these aims were achieved, and then some! Each reading was timed at five minutes, and woe betide any reader that should go over the time limit – 
Sadly, Kay wasn’t able to join us for dinner, but myself, my OH, 
