The aftereffects of Bethany and Jane going full frontal and horizontal on the bar had far reaching effects on the club members. As if infused with a magical aphrodisiac, table upon table, room after room, sex happened at an epic level, out in the open on the perimeters of the dance floor, and in the private rooms. The ripple effect of voyeurism seeps deep within the veins and psyche of highly aroused women, which is why I stand by the belief that watching sex is as important to a healthy well being as physically participating in it.
It happens, and when it does I let it be. The random hookups between the members had a freestyle, spontaneous quality that was unstoppable and organically fascinating. When women are stimulated on a group level, sex becomes tribal and purposeful. Activities among the ladies took on a life of their own, and on those rare occasions, I am obliged to step out of their way and let nature take its course.
This series just keeps getting better.
Here's the rub, and I could be scissoring you with my girl nerd-like fascination of writing, so bear me out for a couple more slow and purposeful strokes. You have books that do a lot of head-jumping, and this one certainly is the case. It switches perspectives and characters with a music-video-like trance of lesbian induced haze, with rapid changes of "who's head is this" every chapter. I called the first book out for this, but here, something magical is happening.
I can identify the characters from just how they are written.
Yes. My mind is blown by a word-gasm of such incredible intensity that I lap up and savor every drop of the moment. I can identify the characters from just how they are written. Think of that, not only do the characters have a way of speaking to each other all their own, they have a way of speaking to the reader all their own and it can be identified by the reader within a couple lines.
This makes the head-jumps much more easier to take.
This also makes this book so much more enjoyable to read.
All of a sudden, the clumsy hint-drops on who's head this is go away. The artificial "hello, Jane the stripper" sort of PoV character signposts are not needed, and we slip into each chapter with the comfortable sense and ease of slipping into our favorite pair of shoes. It is a beautiful thing. Now, I could say that since this is a book two, and I am used to the writer's work, I have picked up on those character writing hints and this is more of a "getting back into it and used to this style" thing.
But it isn't. I am picking this book up after months of reading the first, and right away it is apparent who is speaking even without a name being said. I just know.
Magic?
Possibly.
Karissa and Serena look puzzled, and giggle, speaking back to Avery in their native language. I answer for them. "Enough to get by in a compromising situation. The language of love will have to be your mode of communication." I pop the champagne and pour two glasses. My employees aren't allowed to drink on the job, but my members can have all they want, "within reason, of course. I'm sure you'll manage without any troubles."
Katherine touches the girls like exotic animals on display. "Pretty babies, they are."
Avery pats my shoulder, sipping from her flute. "Where have you been hiding them?"
The sly cat smile I give her states the obvious, my secrets are for their own benefit and not to be shared. "In the golden cage I keep in my living room, where all my employees stay until it's time to bring them out."
Snorting at my response, Avery joins Katherine. She traces the cleavage line of Serena, the bendable redhead with hazel-eyes. "I would do the same thing if I were you, Cherry, or else they'd never leave my bed."Lesbian magic at that. The book weaves its slick and tawdry tale of the lesbian sex club through beds, between sheets, in the backrooms, and all the while capturing those little early-morning conversations between mature and consenting adults of the female species as they pick their way through the tangled throes of lust and business. Sex is chemistry and business is emotion, and mixing the two makes for a tangled web of "just doing this for the paycheck" and "true love" which makes it near-impossible to sort out true feelings unless, well, you are cool about this all and can just take things as they are and as they come.
Not many people can do that, trust me. For some, what people do at work is a replacement for the drama of jilted lovers and psycho bed-mates with not a kiss or sexual situation between them. Some people love the drama, queens of soap operas of their own creation, the power trip of ruining someone else's work life joy enough for their twisted passions of schadenfreude and wicked destructive desires.
Now, take people like this, people which you may on may never know their intentions, and put them in bed together.
Half the fun is feeling each other out, and I mean that in the best way.
The other half is judging if the other partner is too crazy to keep associating with, either on a personal or professional level. Someone too crazy to take to bed may be sane enough to maintain a professional relationship with. In other cases, they may be too crazy to live in the same state with. How do you judge that while trying to keep the ship of commerce sailing while keeping the captain's sheets occupied by lovers you adore and trust and friends you may sleep with but would never share secrets with?
And that is the World of Cherry.
A twisted and tangled place of lesbian lust and business. With sex scenes that burn their passions into your mind with a ferocity and lust that hit you like a sudden gust of wind, and you sit there lost in the motion and powerful force of nature. It is almost as if Mother Nature herself summoned that force upon you, and through these characters and their sordid hook-ups we are witness to forbidden moments of desire and lust. We are not only shocked at their explicit nature, but we are moved by their sudden and rapturous passions and intensity.
Sordid stories.
Twisted and sometimes random hook ups with lasting consequences.
Lesbian sex that matters.
And all the beautiful moments in between.
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