Explicit Creatures on a Hot Night

By Saskia Lane

CLAIRE'S GOT A GIRL-NEXT-DOOR FACE, A SMOKING HOT BODY AND A HORNY SLUT ATTITUDE. HER EXHIBITIONIST VIDEOS ARE SELLING LIKE HOT CAKES. JAMIE'S A WILDLIFE VIDEO MAKER. HE'S NOT USED TO SHOOTING SOLO SEX ACTS IN PUBLIC. HE'S GOT NOTHING AGAINST TOYS OR PVC OR LATEX OR BDSM OR BONDAGE, HIS REAL WORRY IS—IS HE FALLING IN LOVE?

 

Jamie aims to be the next David Attenborough. He films nocturnal animals in their natural habitat and posts his videos on the internet. Then Claire walks into his editing suite, well, bedroom. Stunningly beautiful and with a body to die for, she says she's a model, she's looking for a video maker for her fashion shoots, except... they're not the sort of fashion shoots Jamie was expecting. Out in the hot night with Claire's demands getting ever more daring and dangerous Jamie starts to wish he'd never given up his foxes and hedgehogs and deer mice and great horned owls, except by now he's in love.

 

Hot, with a plot. 15,000.

  

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vital Books Inc
• Release date: Aug 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223796657

Book preview

TAKE ONE: NOCTURNAL CREATURES

People say a talented twenty-one-year-old male like me—I’m even quite well-built, and sort of handsome in a way— shouldn’t still be living with his mother. They reckon I ought to have found myself a girlfriend by now. They say it’s unhealthy spending so much time shut up in my bedroom editing the wildlife videos I shoot on my solitary rambles through the midnight parks and deserted playgrounds of East Jonesville.

I’ve always been misunderstood. Back then no one realized that I had a dream, that I’d dedicated my life to becoming the greatest wild-life video maker in the world, better than David Attenborough.

That was reason I was still living at home with my mother, working part-time in a camera shop and saving money to expand my stock of video-making equipment. I already had:

An I-Steady Pro 3 Steadicam.

A Dual-Pixel Auto Focus camcorder.

A set of HMI and Plasma Outdoor Spots.

A Night Vision J1MO Hunting Camera with top-of-the-range audio function.

Plus loads of editing equipment set up in my bedroom for working on the wildlife videos I shot. My speciality was nocturnal animals in their natural habitat.

To date I’d only posted a couple of samples of my work— ‘Fruit Bats In Stanley Park’ and ‘The Four-toed Hedgehog As Urban Gardener’— on local websites, but I had a dream. One day my films were going to be as famous as David Attenborough’s except with more knowledgeable commentary. I know more about the spiny deer mouse and ring-tailed possum than David ever will.

I know my mother worried about me. In fact, she used to nag me a lot. She said I should get out more, make friends. Mom accused me of loving animals more than I loved people, which wasn’t fair because the only people I knew were her and her bridge-partners who came to the house every Friday night to play bridge. The spiny deer mouse is far more interesting than them.

Besides, who needs human contact when you have a following on the internet? My animal videos were starting to win me a following, not a big one, but all authentic nature enthusiasts.  My film ‘The Ring-tailed Possum In West Jonesville’ got twenty-seven likes and only one thumbs down.

Mom and I live in the city, so when I say ‘natural habitat’ I’m only referring to the inner-city environments I filmed my animals in, but you’d be amazed at the number of owls, foxes, squirrels, lizards, bats and rodents you can find in a suburb of a night, never mind stray dogs and feral cats.

Of course, I yearned for the Amazonian jungles and Himalayan peaks, but I didn’t let living in Jonesville get me down. One day, when I was famous, I’d conduct safaris to Africa and Asia Minor, but for the time being it was the parks and sports fields round where we lived.

I wasn’t cast down in the slightest. You have to be single-minded to get anywhere in life. I looked forward to the day when I owned a Panavision Millenium DXL and had my own production company and trekking outfit.

Anyway. One evening—it was a Friday if I remember correctly— I was in my editing room, well, bedroom, working on some footage of a great horned owl I’d shot in the local cemetery and I was extra excited, great horned owls are a rarity in our neighbourhood— when there was a ring at the front door bell.

I let my mother answer it. It was only one of her bridge-partners come for their weekly game.

A moment later there was a knock at my door. I cursed under my breath—I was in the middle of a crucial editing decision— and my mother came in:

Jamie. There’s a young lady to see you.

Mom didn’t sound too pleased. ‘Lady’s’ a pejorative in my mother’s vocabulary unless the lady’s over sixty and plays bridge.

My visitor walked in.

She wore skin-tight gold slacks, the silk— or perhaps it was latex— clinging to her bottom like the ripe rind of some extra thin-skinned fruit.

She swayed on what I believe are called high-heel strappy sandals, balancing on her toes and the minimal support of five-inch stilettos and two thin tongues of leather.

Hi! Her voice was melodiously assertive. I’m Claire.

Perhaps her tank-top had shrunk in the wash. There seemed to be too little white cotton to completely cover her breasts. Even with a depth of cleavage on display the tank-top was so short you could see where the lavish curves took off from her bare, silky belly.

I don’t know much about women’s fashion but it was pretty obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra. The forceful prongs in the cotton were