In the Flesh is a monthly reading series held the third Thursday of every month at the appropriately named Happy Ending Lounge, and features the city's best erotic writers sharing stories to get you hot and bothered, hosted and curated by erotic writer/editor Rachel Kramer Bussel (Best Sex Writing series, Do Not Disturb, Spanked, Dirty Girls, etc.). From erotic poetry to down and dirty smut, these authors get naked on the page and will make you lust after them and their words. Themed nights have included True Sex Confessions, Revenge of the Sex Columnists, GLBT Night, and Comedy Sex. Readers have included Laura Antoniou, Mo Beasley, Susie Bright, Lily Burana, Jessica Cutler, Stephen Elliott, Martha Garvey, Gael Greene, Andy Horwitz, Debra Hyde, Maxim Jakubowski, Josh Kilmer-Purcell, Tsaurah Litzky, Suzanne Portnoy, Sofia Quintero, M.J. Rose, Danyel Smith, Grant Stoddard, Cecilia Tan, Carol Taylor, Veronica Vera, Zane and others. In The Flesh debuted in October 2005. Contact rachelkramerbussel at for bookings, press, or questions. Click here In The Flesh: Los Angeles. “…writer and host Rachel Kramer Bussel welcomes eroticism of all stripes, spots and textures to the Happy Ending lounge on the Lower East Side.,” New York Times UrbanEye newsletter, August 15, 2007 email rachelkramerbussel at for booking or other information or interview requests

Monday, July 17, 2006

From "Unlocking" by Zaedryn Meade in Secret Slaves: Erotic Stories of Bondage

his is just a teaser from Zaedryn Meade's exquisite story "Unlocking" which opens Secret Slaves: Erotic Stories of Bondage. The best part is after this, so come to In The Flesh on Wednesday and hear her read more, AND get a chance to win a FREE copy of your pick of the 3 Fetish Chest books!

From "Unlocking" by Zaedryn Meade

Her wide brown eyes flash gold and reveal her obvious interest. “I’ve never been handcuffed before.”

I don’t miss that invitation. “Would you like to be?”

Her hips switch and tilt. Oh yeah, she wants to be. Possibly even by me. “I don’t know,” she says slowly, placing herself closer to me with every imperceptible movement. Her fingers are still in my belt loop and she’s pulling at the circle around my hips. I’m leaning back into it and making her lean into me. She tilts her face up toward mine, a good four inches shorter than my not-so-tall five foot six, and does that doe-eyed under-the-eyelashes look of girls who want to be kissed. I reach behind her to set my glass on the tall table, changing places with her. She turns too and now her back is to the wall. She leans against it and hooks both thumbs into her pockets, holding her bottle of Corona by the neck in her left hand. Only the lime at the bottom is left.

I take the bottle out of her hand and use that as an opportunity to touch her skin. I pass the bottle to my other hand and set it on the table next to my empty glass, barely looking to see where it lands, eyes locked on Maya’s dark thick eyelashes and smoky makeup. She’s biting her lip. I have the back of her hand in mine and press her palm with my thumb. Her fingers are a little colder than her wrist. It’s a little cool out on the back patio tonight, but we’re both beginning to sweat.
My thumb and forefinger circles her wrist and I squeeze, just a little, enough pressure to let her feel restricted. I take her other hand, notice that she’s already reaching for me, and do the same. She breathes in, a little surprised at the sudden movement. I press her wrists back until they touch the wall and see the tension in her shoulders. Her breasts are offered up to me like fruit to suck on in order to bring out the flavor of the whiskey, and she knows it, sees me considering her and arches further. I want to press my palm into the ripeness of her chest and feel the flesh pushed between my palm and the wall. I want to take a bite of the taut muscles of her neck. I want to run my tongue from her chin down past the collar of her thin cotton blouse and into the V of her neckline where she has one too many buttons undone.

I don’t do any of these. I keep my eyes on her face as she tells me what she wants, what she’s afraid to give away, what she wishes I’d keep doing to her, without saying anything. Maya’s mouth makes a sweet, high whimper that is quickly cut off by my own mouth pressing into hers. She pushes her hips into mine and made a move in to kiss me that was more sudden than I expected, and I almost lose my balance and my grip around her wrists. I pull her hands behind her back and they touch easily; her wrists are thin enough to get both locked in one of my hands, so I bring my left hand to the back of her neck, along her spine and under her long dark hair. Her body arches and she kisses me harder, her tongue beginning to feather my lips. I open my mouth, catch her swollen bottom lip between my teeth gently, then pull away and touch her lips as lightly as possible. She’s pressing toward me for more but I’m holding her back by her wrists. She struggles against my grip and almost gets one wrist free before I catch it in my left hand. She smiles against my mouth, I feel the corners of her mouth turned up and laughing. She flexes her fingers and stops struggling.

I pull back and she’s still smiling. I let go and she brings her hands between us, touches one wrist with the other, then pulls on my keys again.

”Take me home with you,” she says. I grin. Circling her right wrist with my left hand, I lead her back through the pulsing bodies on the dance floor, and out the front door of the bar.