Raindrops on Roses

By Rose Maru

Raindrops on Roses - Rainy Day Reads to Start Your Fire

Ten stories of fictionalized reality intimately explored through the author as she fights the HSDS (Hypoactive Sexual Desire Syndrome) hand she was dealt. A non-fiction section about HSDS along with personal and honest insights into her life may provide fellow sufferers and their partners a safe harbor to begin their own exploration and healing. If not, at least maybe you can have a few laughs along the way, because cram this stuffy third person writing crap, I can't do it.

Hi, this is Rose - I'm the author. And, sure, I'll take my turn and stand up, sorry.

"Hello. My name is Rose, and I have HSDS - and it pisses me off, because I used to be normal..." (Truth alert: no she wasn't ever 'normal.' Okay, fine: rumor has it I was one sexy, hellacious college co-ed, but somewhere after my early twenties - some SOB threw the switch and screwed me over, because I lost it all.)

Raindrops on Roses is a romp through ten rainy day reads that I created to help relight my fire that got put out. The stories range from mild exhibitionism to all-out, "Who's your Mommy!" sex, because I don't really know what will make me think sexy thoughts at any given moment, so anything is fair game. To help folks understand the story better, I include a 'Truth and Consequences" section for every one of these pieces - some of them getting pretty voyeuristic into my life, but it should shed some deeper meaning into my fantasy self and increase the enjoyment you might experience during a second read of the same story.

If the first ten stories plus one non-fiction piece aren't enough to turn over your engine, I popped in over a half-dozen extra stories at the end from my other works either currently available, or available soon.

So if you, or someone you know, has HSDS, this puddle of raindrops might be for you. For all you other people, I hope I can make you drop your ebook reader at least once while reading - it's why they make 'water' proof covers for them, isn't it?

Raindrops on Roses
Sexy Fantasy Fiction included in the main body of work:
Sunny with a Chance (romantic exhibitionism)
Art Class Model Extra Ordinaire (raunchy self-pleasure exhibitionism)
Kohl's Kindness (romantic exhibitionism)
Car Games (fun 'real life' game to play in the car)
Swim Team Photo Assistant (voyeur exploration)
Quickie (break for some much needed rumpy-bumpy)
Shoe Shopping (light exhibitionism and flirting)
Work Wonder (all female exposure)
UPO - Unidentified Phallic Object (comedy interlude before...)
Art Director (uh, okay, little break needed here, even though no penetrative sex, it was still good for me)
Non-Fiction and Life As We Know It:
HSDS - Hypoactive Sexual Desire Syndrome (exploration of the HSDS life including real life interactions that show you or your suffering significant are not alone)
Bonus Section:
Bigger Brother Reality Show (complete Episode 1(background) and Episode 2(action!))
Rose by Any Other Name: Bath Time for Rosie (potentially NC-17 - barely) and Braless Is Better (non-fiction)
Dozen Roses: Hotel Threesome MFF (explicit sex)
Soul Service, Inc. (Excerpt) (sexy humor)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rose Maru
• Release date: Dec 1, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311180391

Rose Maru

Born a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away... no, wait, that wasn't me, but sometimes it certainly seems like it.Before getting into all the fun details, I want to clear the air of a rather large aspect of my writing because it has a huge impact on my work: I have HSDS (Hypoactive Sexual Desire Syndrome). In fact, if it weren't for my HSDS, I wouldn't be here and you wouldn't be there reading this - my previously unpublished writings were explorations into kick-starting my, ahem, 'motor.' I tried to explore anything that might cause a little tingle below, even ideas and concepts my thinking brain refused to hear. Creating an alter-ego in my stories allowed me to safely penetrate the veil of non-existence - I was forced to think about sexy thoughts and situations.I wrote for years covering a wide range of topics, my husband providing a large number of seedlings from which to grow my stories (HSDS... what do you expect? Much to my dismay, what I learned to expect was very raunchy pillow-talk. Much to his dismay, he learned to expect me to leap from bed saying, "Oh! That is so good, I've got to write it down!"). It turns out, writing romantic erotica usually wasn't doing it for me. I gave up on it for a period of time - in essence, I gave up trying to help myself, as well.Then my significant's bright idea: if it didn't help me, maybe it would help someone else. I was back to writing again, or more correctly, preparing my work for release unto an unsuspecting public (I have now officially absolved myself from any evil that befalls you after reading my books - it's all his fault). So I dredged up my folder of rough and unpolished stories - damn, I wrote this much? No wonder I wasn't having sex, I was busy writing about it. (Fib alert: so not true it's not funny. Not the 'not having sex' part, but the lack of bedroom action wasn't really due to my writing.)An odd thing happened, though, as I was rereading my material and editing it. I felt a little something that I hadn't experienced in a long time. I actually felt a little tingle from down below. That soft little call, while editing some stories, started to get a little louder - still very quiet, but it was most certainly there where it hadn't been for decades. I gave in to the siren call almost immediately - surprised the hell out of my husband (thank goodness it wasn't the UPS guy at the door during those moments). Complete, spontaneous, due-to-my-doing rumpy-bumpy. Holy humper, Batman, I'm fixed!I wish. It disappeared again, just as easily slipping back into my 'normal abnormal' routine of never thinking about it within hours. Back to editing. Being the patient sort, I allowed myself to edit a whole three paragraphs before anguish sets in, "It's not working! Ah! I'm broken forever!" Luckily, I have a never say die attitude (Fib alert: ... no, wait, this isn't my stories where I have to include a 'truth' section - let me have my freaking moment), and said, "Piss on it, I'm still going to release my work. I've come this far."And so it went - although much to my joy (and my hubby's) - every so often, I'd find myself showing such obvious responses to passages, it was apparent to even an HSDS girl - and we'd make joy (sometimes several times) to the situation. I wasn't fixed, but at least I had a crutch.Which leaves me editing my old material, exploring new, and tormenting you with it - where I hope it does you some good, too. If it can't make you happy that way, I hope it'll at least provide you a little laugh the other way - especially since I do provide a 'Truth and Consequences' side to all my stories at the end of each book where I detail the nitty-gritty and harsh reality of every piece. This allows everyone's inner voyeur to be released because my HSDS does a great job of preventing me from grasping 'TMI,' so I tend to spill my guts back there in my books.As for my bio (side note: doesn't that make it an 'auto-bio?'), I'm a cute, twenty-one year-old (Fib Alert! Oh my Lord! If you're writing fantasy-fiction, at least make it believable!) - crap, okay, fine, I'm old enough to probably be your sister - from a second marriage - so we're not blood related, which means you don't have to get all weirded out about reading sex stuff about me) - and I live in the Pacific Northwest where I am still happily married to my first husband (very funny - he edits my other fibs so I have to tell the truth, but leaves the happily married one)... at least until he reads the final published product where I changed the truth section in every book back to being brutally honest contrary to his corrections.And, yes, that is me on the cover of all my books, but I'm not spilling the beans here, you have to read the book.

Book preview

Raindrops on Roses

Rainy Day Reads to Start Your Fire

by Rose Maru

Copyright 2014 Rose C. Maru

First Edition - December 2014

Cover Image Copyright 2014 Randal Maru

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only - but please don't e-mail me pictures of the result. This pile of electrons may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this e-book with another being, please purchase an additional copy for each sentient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please feel very guilty and return to your favorite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy, dang it. Thank you for respecting Rose's hard work.

: Table of Contents :

Forward - Start of the Storm

-Fiction and Fantasy-

Sunny with a Chance

Art Class Model Extra Ordinaire

Kohl's Kindness

Car Games

Swim Team Photo Assistant

Quickie

Shoe Shopping

Work Wonder

UPO - Unidentified Phallic Object

Art Director

-Non-Fiction and Life As We Know It -

HSDS - Hypoactive Sexual Desire Syndrome

A Few of My Favorite Things

-Truth is Stranger than Fiction (notes about stories, what's real/fictionalized)-

-Also Available and Coming Attractions (free samples)-

Bigger Brother Reality Show (Episode 1 and Episode 2)

Rose by Any Other Name (Bath Time for Rosie and Braless Is Better)

Dozen Roses (Threesome MFF)

Soul Service, Inc. (Excerpt)

-About Rose Maru and Contact Information-

- - - -

Forward - Start of the Storm

Welcome to my bedtime companion, Raindrops On Roses.

What began as an exploration of me and what could potentially turn me on while I tussle with HSDS (Hypoactive Sexual Desire Syndrome), slowly evolved into fully developed stories with the help of my partner. I hope you don't have to know anything about HSDS to enjoy the collection that follows, but in the event you read a short story and think, I could write better mommy porn with both danglies tied behind my back, try to imagine the world from my perspective before you start typing out your smoking hot story.

For those of you reading this because you're paired up with an HSDS significant other, my heart goes out to you. It's a confusing world we live in and it seems so mixed up and unfair; and the non-HSDS partner suffers just as much - the anguish, the longing, and the unfortunate 'blame game.' What I'm about to say isn't just to make you feel better, but I do hope it helps: it's not your fault; but it's also not your partner's fault, either. The faster you can stop placing blame, the healthier it will be - for both of you.

For me, this collection of short stories is one of several steps I'm doing to take back what is rightfully mine: a sense of sexuality and well-being that I've been missing for far too long.

For those of you with a voyeur streak, after each fictional piece I provide the option to read the 'behind the scenes' information to help detail how much 'truthiness' the story contains, with the real life event from which the fantasy spawned.

So I hope you can have a laugh with me and maybe an occasional one-handed read (or for your HSDS partner, a helping-hand read).

What follows is an odd mix of reality, fantasy, and me

These are a few of my favorite things - Rose

- - - -

Sunny With a Chance

Stupid day.

Stupid weather report.

Stupid weather prediction.

Stupid me for believing them.

It isn't my fault. The day is clear when I leave the house, already warm. My wish for hot weather completely coming through for me for the past week. Already pushing the mid-eighties and it's only just a bit past eleven in the morning with a brush of humidity.

I put on a cool, light skirt - but why, oh why, do I let my fashion brain convince me to wear a thin yellow top. It's bad enough I'm commando, being laundry week and all, but I'm in my thinnest blouse, and up until that time, it's perfect and keeping me comfortable even as the day gets noticeably more hot and humid.

Then the unexpected shower. Splash! Out of no where. All right, add to the stupid list: stupid me for parking so far away from the building because the gathering clouds had given a break from the sun.

By the time I get to the building, I'm soaked. It isn't even a cool rain - it's sort of a putrid warm shower. I'm concerned about the skirt sticking to my legs and my bottom is pretty obvious with the clingy light colored fabric sticking to my skin. I try fanning it out while standing in front of the store, but it seems more private just inside the entrance doors.

Possibly yet another big mistake as I discover air conditioning. Up until then I was more concerned about my butt being shown off too clearly, now the cold air literally points out a much different problem poking up from my nearly see-through wet blouse in a not-so-subtle way. Could the situation be any...

I know I shouldn't have thought it, because worse or not, the situation just became much more intense as I hear a low cough and clearing of a manly throat. I've been so busy getting into the vestibule and out of the weather, I didn't even think about if anyone else would take refuge in here with me.

He's pretty soaked, and his white button up shirt is performing the same peek-a-boo routine of my own blouse.

Pacific Northwest - don't trust the weather. I made it in here just a couple seconds after you.

I try to nonchalantly cover my chest, God's way of telling me I should've brought an umbrella to keep the sun off me. I'm soaked.

I'd offer you help, but about the only thing partly dry on me is my underwear, and that doesn't seem very gentlemanly to offer you those.

At least you have that, I say, and realize as soon as it comes out.

Now he's looking at me more closely and figures out the visible meaning.

If it matters, the wet look is good on you. Your hair, I mean, not your, well... Um, 'Do over?'

That's ok, looking at me, it's a little obvious, isn't it? and I lift my hands briefly off my shoulders and chest where I've crossed them.

As I look down, I can see my skirt is wetly plastered across my front. Even if he were blind, he could read my lips, so to speak, because they're visible along with everything else.

So the wet look is good on you all around. And you're willing to be confident about it. Good for you, and you really do have nothing to be ashamed about - you very nice.

Just look! The sun's back out - maybe I can dry off out there. Certainly faster than in this arctic vestibule.

If you're willing to accompany me, let's dry off together. I'll walk you around to the other entrance. With the weather this warm and sunny, barring another flash shower, we should be dry in no time.

Sure - after you.

No, ladies first, and he holds the door open.

Thank you.

Absolutely my pleasure, I assure you, he says with a very big smile.

As I walk past, I realize he's filling in the missing parts, getting a good look at my bottom through the clingy wet skirt.

I put my arms down to my sides and let the sun dry me off, slowly taking away the see-through nature of my clothes. All the while, allowing him to get his fill of any details he might've missed as we walk around the building together, chatting comfortably.

Ok, maybe not that stupid of a day.

Truth - Table of Contents

- - - -

Art Class Model Extra Ordinaire

A lost job isn't something to panic about, it's an opportunity in disguise. I take my notice like a champ, and after a good quart or three of ice cream, I can finally see the silver lining. It's a chance to have some fun and experience the rest of the world - or at least the rest of the world's jobs no one else wants to do.

I find myself as the first and only applicant at the local junior college art department's job board posting. It offers good pay, work in a single class, and for just a couple hours of time. I can't believe no one else wants such a position. Who really cares if it's for an art figure model. I've done something like this before, I can pretend to be a model, and for that kind of pay, I'm on board to do it before you can say 'Welfare line.'

The class size is small, limiting the number of students partaking in the course, making it more comfortable for the model and ensuring each student gets to have a turn as art director. Students learn to instruct the model in ways to best help the artist visualize the human form and figure in various poses. I'll only have to hold the pose for about five minutes at a time, just long enough for a quick general sketch, then on to the next director and pose. It's more a conceptual art class, not the detailed 'hold that pose' for twelve hours deal, emphasizing more the changes the human body contours experience with movement, adding depth and realism to their work. At least that was the sales pitch I remember reading in the course synopsis.

I enter the room, which is comfortably warm, the group of art students small and very polite. I'm not even partially self-conscious about all the posing that will be done sans clothing. Sometimes having played the part of model in the past helps in ways you'd never anticipate and the job description said 'figure model' - and I'm not losing sight of the good pay. Heck, I'm still in good shape with a trim body; couple that with time off from my previous injury-prone job and I have many fewer nicks, scrapes, and bruises - why not finally get to show it all off.

They have me go through many simple poses, getting a good baseline. Usually when I hit a post right off which they are trying to describe, I get a wonderful 'Fantastic!' which certainly warms a girl's heart.

Most of the early poses are extremely modest considering I've been here almost from the start with nothing on, but there's an occasional more open pose, usually with me doing more open than the artist possibly intended, which also generates a few more 'Fantastic's than I might get otherwise.

They quickly warm up to me, especially with my eager-to-please attention to their requests. Even though they're students, they still warrant a model's respect to do as they request. Occasionally I might mentally hesitate, but physically I pop into the position they describe to the best of my ability. The verbal confirmations, smiles, and encouragement help tremendously.

All right, my turn again. Sit flat initially, pulling your legs up, but, uh, open your knees, like you're riding a horse. Maintain that and roll back lying prone, but leaving your legs in the horse riding position. Fantastic!

Hey, van Gogh, this isn't porn posing 101. Give the poor gal a break.

It's a serious pose, dude. I mean, look at the position of everything. You ever consider it? Is that why girls like to ride horses?

Actually, that and having 850 pounds of meat between our legs, I say smiling while holding the pose with only a slight giggle.

It really seems to have put everyone at ease.

I have no problems posing however you need me. I'm here to help you, I reassure them.

"Any help?