Tag Archives: KathleenK

AG Jeff Sessions is a bad nanny. No pot? Then no alcohol or tobacco!

Consistency is an important element of being an effective nanny.  Our new attorney general Jeff Sessions evidently interprets his job to be Head Nanny as regards marijuana.  Alas, he’s of the “Just Say No” – “Heroin and Pot Are the Same Scourge upon Humanity” generation.  He needs to either get educated on marijuana in the modern age or he needs to add alcohol and tobacco to his No-No list.  Of course, those two lobbies are stronger than the newbie Pot industry (and as a former tobacco lobbyist, Jeff knows that) except the pot movement is growing stronger by the day because it is a cash-positive industry sorely needed in the country.  It provides tax income to states, it provides employment and investment opportunities.  Unlike tobacco and alcohol which have no known medicinal value, herbalists can argue the science of cannabinoids for many ailments that work as far as the patients are concerned which matters greatly to those involved with toxic cancer cures, seizure disorders, anxiety-depression, and arthritic pain.  Very importantly, it has a measurable positive impact by lessening opioid overdoses which SHOULD be enough to give Nanny Jeff pause.  In fact, I was in an ER the other night and had the chance to ask a doctor if he could compare the number of drug overdoses he sees front-line in terms of heroin, cocaine, meth, opioids, and pot.  You all know the answer.


Note: some of the medicinal marijuana states like Illinois have such poorly drafted legislation that almost nobody qualifies; pot is an expansive drug with many properties that can be bred into the plant for pain relief, sustained effects, etc., and also bred out of the plant (like the stoned-ness).

The rallying cry for all citizens should be removing marijuana from the FDA’s Schedule I list; we should upgrade methamphetamine from Schedule II to take its place!  Anybody can tell you that meth causes more personal degradation and community crime than pot.  We can ease jail crowding by getting low-level pot-related criminals out of jail and help them get jobs by expunging their criminal records.  Akin to state-sponsored lotteries, the weed-related taxes should go to education and assistance for those who have problems handling what for most people is an ordinary indulgence like a good stogie or a cold beer (glass of wine, shot of whiskey, etc., etc., etc.).  Same rules apply:  not for kids, not for driving or work.

Where pot is illegal, it is not unavailable.  Non-regulated weed is “marketed” by your local gangs.  Sure, you may have your benevolent pot-head underground but somewhere there’s a 4×4 with $13K of bundled weed as cargo and THAT person is most likely armed and dangerous.

More states are considering legalization and those states’ citizens need to speak out.  You don’t have to want to use it yourself to open the marketplace to those who need or want to use it… but you do need to let your leadership know how you feel about the possibility of turning this law enforcement cost into a revenue source, and about rebuking the FDA for its wrong-headed adherence to a no-pot agenda while slipping and sliding on the atrocious behavior of big pharma and opioids, price gouging, and their unholy alliances.   (Don’t think those aren’t connected.)

Illinois considers legalization

Nebraska and Medical Marijuana

5 Lies You’ve Been Told About the US Legalizing Marijuana ⇐ Google/Bing/dogpile search if curious

If you accept the premise that Donald Trump is acting in loco parentis to the citizenry insofar as he has primary influence on environmental, legal, health, welfare, housing and other key survival elements of the country, then he’s made a wrong move letting the AG Nanny Jeff tell HIM what to do.  In fact, the populist sentiment is clear that a majority of citizens don’t want to waste time and money browbeating pot users when we could be taxing it as a commodity.  Trump repeatedly claimed that he “got it” as a states’ right issue in the campaign, so easing up on pot would be a big WIN for a man who craves that sort of thing.

Come on, Mr. Trump, be Presidential and help us out, especially those states with bleeding red budgets!  Plus, it would piss off those “bad hombres” you tweet about who profiteer from this tone-deaf resistance to a legal marijuana marketplace.

Oh, and if you need references for Nanny Jeff then look at the history of his influence on law enforcement and social justice in Alabama.  Jefferson Beauregard Sessions III has pursued a race-based agenda for a long time.  The best predictor of future behavior is past behavior.  





Tagged , , ,

Book Lovers’ Book: Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore – Robin Sloan

kathleenk.com_fiction_family_life_booksMr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore mixes old knowledge and new-for-now tech into a quest for perspective.  Robin Sloan earned the praise he’s receiving from the literati, and I admire the competent delivery.  It is one thing to think up an intricate story but it is quite another to properly pace that action using the colloquial structures circa 2013.  Throw in clashing cultures of the printed word (analog, if you will) and the digitized (sanitized) world.wide.wonderful with a feckless (yes, I said it) recorder of the realm.

He stands at the divide of worlds, not known for his decisiveness.  He feels the power and beauty of historic books, and he understands that the internet extracts and compiles information in context of all the other stuff it can get its virtual mind around.  What is lost is the specificity of a single book at a specific point in time in one pair of hands.  Books manifest the more general phenomenon of tribal knowledge: cross-cultural, inter-gender, transnational, and “in the air” obtained by osmosis.   The persistence of almanacs, for instance, speaks to our pattern-recognition preferences.  We love our weather forecasts whether based on a farmer’s reckoning or Doppler’s radar.  Is the sheer abundance of the internet sufficient to grant it supremacy as the sharer of knowledge?

Did you know that ninety-five percent of the internet was only created in the last five years?  But we know when it comes to all human knowledge, the ratio is just the opposite—in fact, [Old Knowledge] accounts for most things that most people know, and have ever known.

  — Raj, of fictionified Google by way of the Stanford geek-feeder stream (per narrator)

Mr. Penumbra is the embodiment of an eccentric old soul, successful in his own odd way it seems, while narrator Clay Jenson is a down-sized web designer who takes the overnight shift at the 24-Hour Bookstore.  Mr. Penumbra’s 24-Hour Bookstore is launch point for a mission to unlock the key of life with overt gaming structure applied, another artful bit of weaving.  It is the metaphor for both worlds, and captures the FINITUDE of the narrator’s choices.  There may be many but each one made determines the variables next presented.  If he does, or if he doesn’t, if he is too quick, or too slow… all those choices!  And not just his.  There are cabals and cliques and rogues and the mindless faithful.

What results is a well-written adventure story complete with an interior wisdom delivered successfully at the end:  Everything is already here.


The fact I’m a bookmaker means I took definite satisfaction in the presentation of craft serving “knowledge transfer” that is so well captured in this book.  I happen to fabricate bedside readers for the adult mind.  I work  toward print layout; the book is a physical manifestation of ideas expressed in fonts and escapements.  KathleenKBooks are purpose-built to tuck into the nightstand, vacation tote, Christmas stocking or briefcase.  I surrender them to Kindle format to be e-fingered by people who may get the content but lose the tactile fundament of the book’s very existence.  Each of my books in print weighs a specific something, it has a texture and a layout; it has presence.  All Kindle books feel the same, compressed into the one-size-fits-all screen.

Not that I have anything against technology:  I  fund my indie book biz with money I earn as an IT pro.  I get the Google.

Bookmaking is a venerable art sped up by technology but bottom line is words are human currency.  Reading these words arranged by Robin Sloan is time well spent.

Tagged , , ,

Erotic-Sexotic Poetry Giveaway: ARCHING OVER

kathleen_k_erotica_maxximus_graphic_poetry_arching_over_collected_collectionsLove|Sex is timeless and recognizable…it has been my great pleasure to hone a poetic voice for that exchange of essence, yearning and exultant, with a dash of nasty-sass.

It is your own hand that brings you off
but it is my voice in your ear
as you crest, as you peak,
you at the vertex
with me in the vortex.

I’m offering ten free copies of ARCHING OVER  Collected Collections of Graphic Poetry through Goodreads.com.  The offer closes on December 15th, 2014.  If you aren’t a Goodreads member yet, consider joining this readers’ forum that offers author outreach.

We ignite our erotic memories:
did anyone ever do this to you? Here?
Like this, with the back of a hand?
No? Did they know not to twist
at the tip but at the base
of your thrumming summit?

And did they fold their fingers
into the pleat of your sex
like this? Indirect yet intense.

Show me what you showed them,
how you offered
what you offered.

Offer yourself to me.

The artwork for ARCHING OVER is provided by Maxximus who unified the four separate collections of my sexotic poetry in a work we called Cubed Lips:


might i mention that
you never say certain words
as if they stop in your throat
as if they reverberate in your head
unable to escape
even when you are excited
even when you are begging
even then you are circumspect, cautious
you say you want to be inside me
(not fuck, not ball, not screw…
not even push, bang, bury)
you can’t say what i want to hear
even though you do everything i want you to do


Contact me if you know who to give credit for this…

you have denied yourself every temptation
in your mortal fear of sin
you haven’t dared to dance
haven’t thrilled with flirtation
deny even your dreams
because your desire is an untrained dog
you have tricked into a closet
and woe the day the bastard slips out


It’s never just me writing the poems.
It’s never just you reading them.
Many thanks to the creator of this relentless interconnected energy, please contact me!

sailing on the sensuous breezes
of a moon-swept sea
creatures of a planet
that binds us by gravity
yet we learned how to fly
it limits our life span
but lets us love forever

Tagged , ,

A Musing: Nipples as Emblems of Breasticular Freedom

The bra-burning days may come to mind when we think of women’s lib but this history reminds us that the brassiere evolved as a softer and kinder (and cheaper) alternative to restrictive corsets.

kathleenk_erotica_sexotica_gender_dynamics_corset             kathleenk_erotica_books_graphic_bra

Note:  The 1893 patent did not conceal the nipples by design or in depiction.

The underlying theme of controlling and containing those frisky boobulums retains an overemphasis on men’s opinions.  The current dustup over Chelsea Handler paying homage to Putin on horseback, topless, questions the logic of hiding female breasts online.  From pasties to burkas, dictated decency doesn’t seem to be about what women prefer to wear but what must be done to appease men’s “inability to control themselves” sexually.  Sadly, it comes down to that.  Are we conceding that men are so craven, so weak, that they cannot be taught to control themselves if they see nipples online?  Come on, we’re showing side-boob and under-boob and everything-but-dead-center-boob on mainstream media, and self-sourcing glory-hole sex everywhere else.

This is just one ridiculous aspect of the slippery slope that excuses male predations against women in the courtroom, the boardroom, the living-dining-bed-bath-mud room.  It’s the same faulty presumption that protects the male ego from admitting they aren’t superior as a gender because women are not inferior as a gender.  Compare and contrast within a gender if you wish, but we should accept that the purpose-nature-value of the dual-gender system is not ours to judge, yet if ever.  We the people should advance the people, all the people, not just some of the people, not just some of the time.

Pixilating digital titties is a symbolic battleground.  Whether women “need” bras is a matter of fashion for the most part; if we needed pouches to mask the breasts so they could function then we would have evolved a pair of pockets — and probably would have to hide those too!

Women are not anti-bra.  When an undergarment is artfully designed to frame and flatter then form finds function.  Consider the delectable presentation of bosoms in a bustier engineered to lift and separate.  It is only natural we’d invent ways to protect and proclaim these outcroppings, so briefly if at all used for nursing, steeped in the secret spice of hidden even forbidden intimacies.  There’s nothing wrong with the allure of peek-a-boo lingerie… breasts are sexualized at a basic level for both genders: no problem.  There’s a problem when those who don’t have breasts presume to impose special rules on those who do.

Just the gist:  Keep your uninvited mitts off our tits no matter how we display them.

For earlier commentary on the social impact of underwear, please see A Musing: Bras in Space, Boobs in Government

#chelseahandlerbarethosebeauties #readmore

Tagged , ,

Erotic Book GiveAway – Random with good odds


Stoner with a boner GiveAway      Sweet Talkers GiveAway

kathleenk_erotica_potcentric_sexotic_stoner       kathleenk_erotica_phone_sex_curiosa_sweet_talkers

TEN copies of each book will be awarded at random by GoodReads, many thanks to their administration of this bonanza.

The odds of winning change with the actual pool of registered entrants, but generally you might have 1 in a thousand chances to win — way better than the lottery, plus its free to participate.  From the author’s point of view, the contest-atmosphere allows readers to self-identify, they have to enter to win and by doing so are showing an above-average interest in books in general.  Since I skew to rowdier readers, I appreciate that it allows a curious person to click without further commitment.

GoodReads.com is a massive book club.  It’s a powerful community much appreciated by readers and writers.  Book lovers adapt easily to the indexed listings of books by genre, by author, and by any other criteria that can be registered as a preference.  There are simple subgroups and cultish devotees that crisscross in their recommendations.  Anybody can judge any book:  reviews are the “engine” of the site, opinion accumulates. 

Advice on writing reviews:  keep them short and meaningful, don’t focus on the plot (allow it to unfold in the book, it took the author hundreds of pages to tell the story so don’t chop it into 3 sentences), share with us the experience of reading it, the tone and texture and language and pacing and overall readability.  PLEASE, tell us how it affected you.

GiveAway Details

Stoner with a boner GiveAway 

Stoner with a boner, the long story of a mild man with a wild side, a bad boy with good manners, witty and wise:

Written in a loose, free-wheeling prose that mimics the narrator’s lifestyle, the story glides from woman to woman and bong hit to bong hit without the burdens of plot or conflict.
… a memorable sexual escapade.

by Kirkus Reviews Dec. 2012

Stoner Giveaway dates: Oct 2 – Nov 2, 2014
Countries available: US, CA, and GB more

Sweet Talkers GiveAway

SWEET TALKERS Words from the Mouth of a Pay-to-Say Girl, which is a nonfiction, first person account of running a phone sex business including re-created calls, training materials, and lots of operational details.

Sweet Talkers Giveaway dates: Sep 10 – Oct 31, 2014
Countries available: US, CA, and GB more

Tagged , , ,

TORRENT: Beyond the Studio plus a digression on reading


“Torrent” by Larry Wall

I don’t usually buy art at a local diner but this piece somehow jumped off the wall at me. I live in the Pacific Northwest so rain-drenched views are very familiar.  The mood of TORRENT for me is one of life within the rain, of urbanity in nature.  What takes this picture beyond the studio and into my home is the gulf between my talent with words and what I see others see.  This piece captures that for me.  The tag says Gallery Wrapped Giclee on Canvas 24″x32″ painted November 2011.  I reached out to the artist Larry Wall who graciously granted his permission to share it here.  Check him out.

As a book maker, I admire the productivity of others and I salute all who balance making a living with having a productive life and still have time for love.


A Digression on Reading by indie author-publisher Kathleen K.

Slate – Pew Study:  Millennials Read More than Their Elders

Perhaps the report’s most remarkable finding, however, is that 62 percent of Americans under 30 believe that there’s a lot of important information that exists outside of the Internet, while only 53 percent of older Americans believe the same. Millennials, it turns out, are the keepers of that (old, adult) Socratic idea that the more one knows, the more one understands how little one knows. They must have read that in a library book.

I hate the misconception passed around that people don’t read any more. People who didn’t used to read don’t read now, people who don’t realize the benefit of reading don’t read, people who don’t have the presence of mind to value the unique communique of words arranged to lead you somewhere specific aren’t picking up books, people who fixate on reality TV aren’t at the library.

You know who reads?  The curious.  The inquisitive and acquisitive… the seekers not just of information but of communion, of shared ideas, these are the people that read.  Surveys say a lot of things but most readers aren’t wasting time answering surveys:  they’d rather be reading.  I simply cannot credit the quantification of a cultural resource like reading based on mainstream book sales, mall surveys or online clickity-clicks.  The questing of a personality for meaning, advantage and context is enriched by the ideas of others and reading remains a primary source.

Insofar as age affects your stage in life, and some stages are busier than others, let’s exempt anybody in the clutches of life-work from being dismissed as a non-reader: if your time is being gobbled by kids, career, extended family, military service, I get that books can be really heavy to carry around in your head at the moment.  If you are usually a reader but don’t find time to read at some points in life then I don’t worry about you.  You’ll be back.

To my rowdier readers, thanks for the encouragement. With the publication of my twelfth book, the core Private Publications – Words Arranged by Kathleen K. are in print and Kindle.  I’m sidetracking toward the production of audio-versions for my  long-haul fans.  Looking forward, there are more books to come, already written.  I am literally gambling that people do still read… and always will.

Questions.  Answers?  Order!  Info@KathleenKBooks.com


Tagged , , , ,

Women are not single fuse firecrackers content with the same old bang

The conversation on women’s appreciation of sexotica continues:  Porn for women: Real people having a real good time (Guardian)

It’s not that women don’t like porn. It’s that they don’t like most of the porn that actually gets made, and they’re doing something about it, according to the U.K. Guardian.

COMMENTARY by counterculture author-publisher Kathleen K.

There is a gender distinction in sexual expression that needs to be blended together for a mixed audience to appreciate.  Putting the focus on “women producing porn” grabs the headlines but, in fact, females have been present in the industry as writers and arrangers and directors all along.

What we didn’t have was the old-boy network that got work produced and distributed.

One key to women’s participation in the Sexpression Business is indie freedom, made possible by digital distribution and online communities.  The idea that women don’t like porn fails to note the fact that porn is shorthand for male-dominated imagery… it is a brutal close-up of ram-jamming ferocity.

It doesn’t help to flip the presumption and imagine that women want soft-focus kissy-face.  Women appreciate preparation, it underlies the truth that it takes females longer to “get ready” whether it’s for a picnic or the prom.  Sexually, we’ve got more moving parts and our sex receptors are configured differently within our gender.  See this review of Vagina to appreciate the complex design of female response.  Women are not single fuse firecrackers content with the same old bang.  Men brag they can be turned on and off like a switch and fail to appreciate that women have so many more ineffable elements to their arousal.


It has been my experience that women are just as curious about the workings of sex between imaginary characters as men are, but they prefer more spin on the players before starting the game.  Don’t believe it’s that fundamental?  Consider the glory hole.  That’s a man’s world.

As a writer of erotic-sexotic books, I make the distinction for “sexotica” because some folks just don’t like to get overly-involved in the actual action but are most curious about the factual options.  Sexotica is colloquial, direct and specific, it uses the vernacular.  The reader stays one step removed.

Erotica engages the reader’s egocentric core, it draws energy to their own desires and incorporates them into the action.  Erotica is designated so by the reader(s) response; sexotica qualifies on content alone.


Dark Prince, Heed Thy Queen
(In the Realm of Roles and Reversals)                SAMPLEComing.  Soon.  September 2014

I’m not defending Nathan, I’m explaining him. I consorted with this dog and thought he was a man. The sad part is that Nathan was a man in many ways, in basic ways. 95% genetically similar. 5% canine-lupine. (It’s only a couple of percent difference for human to chimp.) I was accustomed to men as house pets but then along came this hound. I was feeling sexually adversarial at that point in my life; I was tired of being nice. Acting sweet didn’t get me over the rainbow. I needed a commanding male|mate against whom I could struggle. The last thing in the world I wondered about was his bank book (since I wasn’t showing mine). I was far too busy sifting impressions of a most searing entanglement.

I didn’t want somebody to love. It was more selfish than that, I wanted somebody to enjoy my body with me. Screw me joyfully, with wit and daring. Seduce me, not entrap me. I wanted to feel the maleness of a man, dagger unsheathed for drawing blood to the pelvis… fluids rush, nerves tingle, the move is on.

Nathan might choose to be erotic spectator, director, participant, reviewer. He reserved the right for each of us to adopt roles in our love life. He was not to be considered a dick, his was not always central to our pleasure (nor was my box). He commandeered my whole body. He needed me for himself. He needed me for his friends. I got off on pleasing him, and his friends. I had dropped my guard, all the gates were down, I accepted my lover, Nathan, as a man. He could have been a frontiersman, an astronaut, a fisherman. External objects didn’t signify to me, it was a time of voluptuous indulgence, outrageous comfort, careless intimacy.

My involvement was pure, I had no thought of paining anybody. I didn’t mind a secret love life because how could I have explained these sexotic games to people I worked with, or to people at my health club? My family said I was looking fit. It was true I’d rather have sex than eat, I’d walk bra-less in short shorts for two miles with Nathan six paces back watching people watch me walk. He’d hump me standing behind a park bench in a secluded thicket then we’d walk home hand in hand, acting innocent but looking smudged.

One Halloween I went full-on French Maid then attended a party with Nathan. I was told to clean a man’s dick and was handed a warm soft cloth; he was wearing leather chaps and not much else… naughty party. This was a sensational moment with a check on emotions. No one presumed to ask me why I was engaged in this particular behavior. Such was Nathan’s power that he would know which man would accept and act on his offer of my tender tending. The costume “hid” me, objectified me, removed me from a sensible realm. Smart. Nathan knew how to work us all.

I didn’t care if the men “liked” me or not as long as Nathan had faith in me. I had given myself utterly and I understood his need for these sexual tableaus. When we were alone and made love, which was the way we did it most of the time, I felt the direct effect of his reliving those scenes. I know it pleased him that I could encompass more than one situation as long as I held true to my desire for him.

“I remembered a video I saw long before I met you, I got a copy for you to watch tonight. I’ll be back around ten. The second lead actress is a lot like you, in attitude, I mean. You have a similar shape, her ass isn’t as fine but you both have insane knockers. Flat on her back, she gets the same dreamy look you get when we ball. Notice what she does, and do that for me when I get back.”

He was not fanciful, he was effective. I was eager enough to supply the requisite smoothness to our affair, I overlooked things that really weren’t important when I compared them to our ardor. I forgot the clock when he was late, I didn’t complain if he wasn’t groomed or if he expected me to feed him first one time and ignored my food the next.

Whatever it took, I did. He was there for a sexual reason and I would work to discover that reason. It might start at the door with a quick deep feel or his move might not come until after we watched TV and ate our take-out food. The few times he put me off sexually (when we were in an otherwise active phase) it was only to build up for the next time. I’d be patted on the rear and told to put on a specific dress at a certain time – then he’d throw me a pair of crotchless panties to wear to his mechanic’s open house. I’d be sent to buy items at the drugstore, bubble bath and K‑Y Jelly. Peach flavored douche and a rectal thermometer. Condoms galore, every texture and color (all being the same basic shape) and dozens of surgical gloves.

I once let a deputy sheriff fondle me in the back seat of his cruiser while Nathan stood look-out on the side of the back country road. Another time I let Nathan disrobe me and rub my entire body, including the cracks, with oil. It so happened we were in an adult motel room with the drapes wide open to the private courtyard. Nathan used those kinds of memories to goad himself into incredible feats of sexual possession when we were alone together. The essential, core energy might have used outside forces as propellants but my man and I were coupled only to each other and only in our private realm.


I suppose we do learn the hard way or we’d all be smarter sooner.


Tagged , ,

Summon the thunder of ideas

(CNN)States that have legalized marijuana for managing chronic pain have significantly fewer deaths from prescription painkiller overdoses each year, according to a new study published Monday in JAMA Internal Medicine.

COMMENTARY by indie-author Kathleen K.

As the facts roll in, the placement of marijuana in our herbal kit bag is making more sense.  There is evidence aplenty that it is a beneficial plant.  Now they’re in the lab trying to eke the pain-reliever parts away from the getting-high parts.  Fine.  I see that distinction as valid.  Go, Science!  What we shouldn’t forget is that pot isn’t “only” medicinal.  It’s convivial, it’s mind-altering.  Think cold beer on a hot day… or a hot toddy in the snow.  Summon the thunder of ideas!

What is a vowel?

For all you word/sound lovers out there, here’s something interesting about human vocalization.  Consider the difference between spoken consonants and vowels in terms of air flow through the nose and mouth.  Poets, singers, editors: these are the mechanics of our screams and whispers.  Ohhh…. Ahhh.

(Slate) — When you make a consonant sound, you create a blockage or a point of turbulence in the airflow, somewhere between your vocal cords (or vocal folds) and your lips. Where and how this blockage and turbulence happens is what distinguishes one consonant from another (/s/ creates turbulence at the roof of your mouth, just behind your teeth; /n/ is made at the same place, but the air comes out your nose instead). Vowels, however, are sounds that don’t have any blockage or turbulence in the airflow at all. An easy rule of thumb is that a vowel is any sound you can hold while singing (like Whitney Houston) and everything else is a consonant.

#stonerliteracy #readmore

Tagged , , ,

Hempfest 2014. We’d win the weed war.

Happy Hempfest 2014.  For most of  us, there’s no need to scurry down to the Sculpture Park to buy a little buzz… seasoned Stoners knew this day would come:  we’d win the weed war.

The Stoner series of potcentric sexotic fictional memoirs elevates toking time to a sacramental endeavor.  The books twine reefer and romance through the eyes of a mild guy with a wild side.  He’s the guy you want to come to your party.  His way with women is not a trick, it is a knowing.  Same-so his cultivating a righteous high.  He pays special attention to both.  Because they matter.  To him.


SAMPLE — Stoner’s Bone of Contention (The Weightless Joint)

I’m an old Stoner.  This dealer is young, proud of his scale-disguised-in-a-CD-case, so I politely hmm and umm as he explains it is precise to fractions of a gram.  Ahh.  As he talks I take a paper and crease it along the unglued edge so that about a quarter of the paper is folded lengthwise.  I tap my tongue along this edge, and the paper separates cleanly when pulled.  In the three-quarter paper, I sprinkle some of what he’s brought that I’ve carefully picked apart.  The joint is thin, a pinner.  I roll another.

I let him get a few hits ahead and then I mention there’s a better way to smoke this joint, while I pinched off the wet end so the smoke could move through.  He is to balance the joint between his thumb and forefinger, not mash it, he should position it so that the smoking-end of the j is not quite to the face-facing edge of this bridge.  Hold it only as tight as required to maintain control.  Use those arched fingers to ferry the lit joint to your lips.  The outer three fingers will curl up and away from the burning end.  You sip in air through (and around) the joint, leaving it dry.  This method makes that caricature of pot smoking, the pursed lip inhale.  I notice few of this Bong Generation have any idea how to roll a good doobie, or what to do when handed one.

I toss the other joint onto his scale and it registers 0.0.  He cocks his head to the side, silent.  I take it off and hand it to him.  It’s the same size as the one we’ve burned through so we both know it holds at least two highs.  He pokes the scale and the display changes.  He lets it reset then places the slender joint on the scale.  0.0

“Is that a weightless joint?”

“It’s your scale.”

“It weighs something.  I mean, just the paper weighs something.”

“A wisp, a few sprinkles of pot… not enough to register.”

“But it does register.  It registered on me.  If we just got high on nothing, then wouldn’t your pot last forever?”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?”

“It must add up.”

“What?  All those zeros add up to what?  A big fat zero?”

“That’s a whole lot of nothing, dude.”

#stonerliteracy #sexualthoughtfulness #Hempfest2014

Tagged ,

Putting The Dark Prince to Bed…

Thunder and lightning breaking a heat wave tonight… it was a sultry day thus perfect to review this frank and frisky take on seduction.  The first move comes when you convince yourself you have a chance and you dareDark Prince, Heed Thy Queen is the twelfth book from my Private Publications available September 2014 in print and Kindle at KathleenKBooks.com.

Inside Title Page Image by Brian Quinn

Inside Title Page Image by Brian Quinn

There’s another post in this series that describes completing a manuscript, Putting Honey B., Sexual Consultant, to Bed, which I reference here in its entirety.  Each book is another statement piece for my rowdier readers.

This tart tale of indulgence lurked in my work pile for twenty years; I worked on it in 1994, 2001, 2006, 2009, 2010 and 2014.  I had the foundation of it in two lines of dialog:

      “Spread ‘em.”

      “Spread me.”

The title coalesced when I got closer to the motivation of the narrator:

      Dark Prince, Heed Thy Queen (In the Realm of Roles and Reversals)

      He might plan the battles but she was winning the war.

SAMPLE – for illustrative purposes only.  Amateur readers may not be amused.


His name was Nathan, provocative Nathan… Nathan, my Dark Prince.


Nathan is dense and dreamy, he fills out his jeans, he has square shoulders and a powerful torso, his face is unremarkable but his emotions use that blankness to telegraph messages to people. He projects himself at you; you are shown what he wants you to think he is feeling. He stays on tight focus when he is being intimate but otherwise he’s on wide broadcast. People know when such a man is in the vicinity because nature makes it so. You hear his walk, you catch his body language. He asserts himself without challenging others.

His hair is thick and curly, he can make it behave when he wants to but he doesn’t always want to. It will droop in his eyes when he’s thinking. He has a beard, a rough-looking scruff outlining his face, not overly manicured. It grows the way it does to fit the face he has, it emphasized his lips and the strength of his temperament.



“Nathan, do you think we need to know more about each other?”

“More than what we taste like, more than what we feel like?”

“How about knowing an emergency number, in case you have a heart attack?”




I didn’t know where Nathan got his money. It didn’t matter to me, I didn’t rely on it. I had my own money. He had his living quarters, I had mine. Ours was not a relationship built on facts from “real life”. We were lovers and our world was our own.

“Nathan, who is your friend?”

“He’s not my friend. You’re getting your picture taken.”

“He doesn’t have a camera.”

“Wear that spangly bra and the red leather mini-skirt. Bring out some toys.”

“Who’s knocking at the door now, Nathan… a driver without a car?”

“Probably the crew. With this man’s cameras. And lights. And the other models.”




I couldn’t let that man go. I would, from time to time, contrive to avoid him. As a gentleman, he took the hint and laid low. I’d do my best to be busy, or relaxed, or whatever plan I had for a particular bout of leave-taking. It was always me that called him, he honored my decisions better than I did.

“Nathan, it’s me.”

“You always will be.”

“Have you found somebody else?”

“I wasn’t looking.”

“I can’t let you go, Nathan.”

“You’ve certainly tried.”

“You know I have. I just want our time back.”

“Do you remember that blue dress with the black belt… you wore it to a cowboy bar one night?”

“I do remember that dress.”

“Wear that dress for me.”

“Nothing but me underneath. Just like at the cowboy bar.”

“One difference. You’ll be performing for an audience of one tonight.”


#readmore #erotic #sexotic

Tagged , ,
%d bloggers like this: