Portia Da Costa - purveyor of erotic romance and erotica to the discerning woman since 1994


Please be aware that this excerpt contains sensual content that is only suitable for adult readers who are comfortable with frank language and descriptions of erotic scenarios

The Red CollectionBackground

My first short story anthology for Black Lace, featuring short stories and novellas that span, more or less, my entire publishing history with the line.

The Red Collection consists of mainly contemporary short stories, but also features several erotic paranormal pieces, including my novellas BUDDIES DON'T BITE and ILL MET BY MOONLIGHT.

Several of the short stories feature the characters of Robert Stone and Maria Lewis from ENTERTAINING MR STONE.

Although most of the stories have previously appeared in a variety of erotic anthologies, there are several items that are new to Black Lace


Screen Dream
This Very Boutique
Duet for Three
Public Domain
Are We There Yet?
Fireworks Inside
Sometimes They Come Back
Watching the Detective
The Distraction
A Lavish Affair
It’s Got to Be Perfect
A Stroll Down Adultery Alley
Ill Met By Moonlight (novella previously included in the anthology, “Magic and Desire)
Buddies Don’t Bite (novella previously included in the anthology “Lust Bites”)
A Study in Scarlet
Red Haze
Strawberry Shortcake

464 pages approx

Black Lace Books

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He’s back again. Distracting me. He’s not doing anything he shouldn’t be doing. Not at the moment. But just his presence in the room makes me flaky and unable to concentrate.

Why oh why does he have to work in our office? Surely there’s a place for him elsewhere?

But it seems not. Apparently there isn’t a spare desk in the entire building other than one alongside mine here in Personnel.

So I’ve got the freelance IT guy who’s installing the company’s new computer system loitering in my personal space for the next six weeks. And it’s going to be a long six weeks if he insists on hanging around, flexing his muscles, and God knows what else, right under my nose.

It’s a conservative firm and a conservative office. Suits and ties for the guys, and smart skirts and blouses for us women. A good thing really for a forty year old bird like me. I’d look stupid in skimpy tops and jeans with a chunky figure like mine. Okay, women my age do wear those kinds of outfits, but I like to preserve a sense of decorum, you know?

Not much decorum in me when I steal a glance at ‘him’ though. It’s hot today, muggy as hell, and he’s in a tight black tee shirt that clings to his pecs and abs and the muscles of his arms. I’m not a techie, so I’ve no idea what he’s doing, but whatever it is, it looks suspiciously as if he’s posing at the same time.

Lounging back in his chair, he flaunts himself at me, sitting in a way that automatically draws attention to his crotch. Or is that just me, who’s unable to not look at it? To add insult to injury, or just an additional, slavering layer to temptation, he’s a biker too. Which means tight, leather bike jeans and heavy, menacing boots with zips and buckles.

Oh God.

Why am I letting these things get to me? He’s just not my type, on top of the fact he appears to be nearly twenty years younger than me too. I just don’t do the cougar thing, but even so, I can stop imagining him taking off his clothes. Imagining it again.

He’s gym-toned and tight and he’s got gilded-satin skin. In my mind that extends to every bit of him. Except the magnificent exception of his cock. My picture of that is of a ruddy monster, thick and veined and hot, hot, hot.

Pretending to focus on the top of a heap of personnel files old ones, on paper, that are going to have to be manually inputted to the new system I picture Edward, my lust-object, getting naked.

Slowly, in an insultingly leisurely tease, he stands up, turns towards me, and starts tugging the hem of his dark tee shirt out of his waistband. Tug, tug, tug, he tweaks at it until finally it’s loose, and then in a smooth animal action, he peels it off.

Oh, his body is just beautiful. It’s a dream but I know it’s real too. Like heather honey his torso gleams and my fingers slide over the manila surface of the files, experiencing the mundane stuff as firm flesh, and silky skin.

He stares at me, forcing me to look at him. But not just his body, his handsome face too. And handsome he is, with dark blue eyes, a tender but masculine mouth and a rakish little goatee beard to matches thick brown hair brushed straight back from his brow.

Very deliberately, he touches his own nipple, drawing attention to the single piercing there, and immediately I wonder if he’s pierced anywhere else. His ocean blue eyes glitter mischievously, as if he’s heard me.

‘Do you want me to show you it?’

His hands are on his heavy belt buckle, fingers tapping.

‘Jane, do you want me to show you it? The new login procedure?’

Print :: Amazon.co.uk :: Amazon.com :: Waterstones :: Barnes and Noble

Digital :: Kindle UK :: Kindle US :: Kobo Books :: Nook Books :: iBooks

© 2012 Portia Da Costa and Black Lace Books