Friday, November 30, 2012

From my new Steampunk novel Arms of Angels



An excerpt from my new Romantic Steampunk story Arms of Angels... 

Soon, Jovan was by himself.
He took in the motion of the Crimson Swan at its peak.  Lusty music, giddy banter and people flooded it as the night continued. Dawn was several hours away. He placed his plumed hat on his head and eased back in his chair satisfied with the weight of the gold pieces in the pouch he kept close to his chest. He casually watched as Armand disappeared to a darkened nook at the farthest end from everything. Jovan saw only the kiss he delivered to a smooth, pale hand. It rose up to his lips from the end of an equally enticing arm then, it slipped out of sight.
He wondered if the legs attached to that body were just as graceful.
When Armand came back to his table with more rum, Jovan covered his hand over his empty
cup. ”The delicious looking arm that you just attended, what is she drinking?”
“Captain? Oh... it would not be to your taste.”
“What... is she... drinking?”
“It’s a strong but delicate wine. It is a high price.” Armand answered with a hint of snobbery.
“I will have a bottle.”
Stunned, Armand nodded. “As you wish, Captain.”
He brought the bottle to the Captain then opened it. “Let it breathe a moment.” Then, he rushed off to another table across the crowded room.
Jovan waited. He watched her hand rise and fall until he estimated her glass was half empty. He had a strong stomach for most drink but preferred the finest rum or spirits the islands had to offer. He snatched up the open bottle, poured a bit into his own glass and drank it down. He was surprised. It was a world away from the taste of his liqueur. It was succulent and strange, but not weak as he suspected it would be. The warmth of it hit his gut and the sensation comforted him.
He devised a plan. With the open bottle in hand, he made his way through the dancing mass of bodies to her table.
Now Armand, let's see who you have been hiding.


3.

“Lady, more wine?”
She didn’t look up when he spoke. She gave a curt nod. Jovan took his time in pouring.
He had just seconds to take her in. His senses told him she was no high priced whore. This one had true sophistication in her movements and in her mode of dress. Her oval face was glistening pale with lush, ebony colored hair, piled and pinned back. Silken wisps strayed from the bunch framing her features in a youthful fashion. Her face nestled in the darkness of her hair was like a glimpse of the moon on a cloudless night.  A plum colored bodice detailed with black lace and fine, embroidered roses held her breast snug. She was firm but curvy in the proper places. 
“You are not the regular help here.” Her low voice was breathy. It surprised him. She had the sound of a fuller, stronger bodied woman.
“How could you know such things, my lady?” He kept his own voice in a more subtle register, so as not to put any alarm in her if he could. He desired to plant a kiss on her shoulders as they were bare as naked thighs.
Her scent was a delicate floral mixture that was both bright and clean. Well-to-do whores were known to bathe with lush musk or overpowering flowers. To his surprise, she leaned closer to him, as he poured her drink. He realized she was inhaling his scent as well. Her manner of dress was a bit sensual for a woman of her obvious higher class, but appropriate for nights in the tropics. He admired her pale breast, strapped in and held just tight enough to swell over the top of the lace like finery.
 “You smell of the sea. Anyone who works at these places smells of fatty old meat, or rum, or soap, but not enough to cleanse the body. “
Her comment brought a broad smile to his face.  Perceptive and beautiful? Such a rarity in the women around here. She must be new.  “You are right, beauty. I am of the sea.”
Her body tensed almost imperceptibly. She eased back into her seat. One of her slender hands slid under the table. His own instinct told him she was keeping a knife or some other defensive item tucked away.
Without further hesitation, he introduced himself. "I am Captain Jovan Miguel Sandoval Contreras--"
“Commander of the Devil Moon?” she questioned.
Jovan nodded. “Yes, that is my girl. You know of her?”
Her body shifted slightly to a more protective posture. He sensed whatever it was that she carried was now in her hand.
He had no clue but his interest was nearing its peak. This one was a true fighter. How is that even possible?
Her sloe, pale eyes gleamed like pearls when she glanced up at him. He hoped he'd made a good visual impression.
He noted a clear hint of interest in the way she looked at him now.
She continued, “I am being rude.  My name is Amanda... Amanda Collier."  She extended her free hand. Jovan took it. It was both delicate and strong.
He laughed in utter surprise. “So you are the one that is making my advisor half mad!”
She answered dryly. “Alan Lancer.”
“Yes! He is in fits!” In a sweeping gesture, he removed his hat then added, “It is a pleasure to meet one so talented.”  Is this what a man of some breading and stature thinks of as "mildly attractive?" Has he lost his damn mind?
His thumb rubbed the top of her hand before he planted his lips in the same spot. He felt her body ease. Still, her hidden limb had yet to reappear.
He heard the owner of The Crimson Swan   stirring behind him.
“Evadez-vous d’elle!” He spilled out words, slathered in his French Accent.  “I’m so very, very sorry, Madame! My deepest apologies, I didn’t know the captain was here being a bother to you."
At that moment, Jovan looked deep into her eyes.  They were large, startling and pale blue in color, with lashes that cast mysterious shadows. She drew her hand back from his kiss and placed it around her glass.
It was then that something subtle but distinct, gripped his mind.
For an instant, he swayed as if he had drank more than he had. It was the feeling of a wave sweeping him off his balance. A twinge of fear hit him. What the hell? he almost said aloud. He felt disarmed and odd, almost vulnerable.
Everything went still. He heard nothing around himself. 
His sudden alarm quieted in him and pleasure arose in its place. He wanted only the quiet he felt coming from behind those eyes of hers. It was as if he had worked in the hottest sun all day and she was a lake of cool, soothing calm. Locked with her gaze, he was sure that the cause of this originated from within her.  He felt afloat. He realized to his utter amazement, he had fallen into some part of her mind. There was no doubt in him. There was no more panic. He felt he could have pulled away but this thing, this...being inside her, thrilled him in ways he could not have imagined. A powerful need to go even deeper into her swept him. He wanted it just like he desired the contented comfort of swimming in mountain pools of crystalline water.
Her slender brows raised as her pupils opened wide. She had the look of surprise with the innocence of a child. He felt a sudden blast of excitement and confusion from her. The feelings raced through him in delicious ways. Her bow lips parted shaping a near perfect "O" as her hidden hand returned to the table. She'd felt the sudden mystical thing that passed between them. It had been only seconds.
Surprise came again as he sensed her push him out of her mind. 
"No." The word was clear to him but not spoken. He felt her ease him away and back into his body as if not to shock him further. He was inside himself again.
For a few moments, he was speechless.
Armand was still gushing apologies. Jovan raised his hand in a quick silencing gesture.  His voice felt distant and strange. He said, without looking at him, “Armand, you have never gotten on my bad side. Don’t do it now. No eres suficientemente hombre para recibir la paliza que te darĂ­a esta noche. You are not man enough to take the beating I would give you tonight.” Armand’s effeminate voice grew low and dark. He answered Jovan without a waver in his tone. “Captain, I will not have to beat you. I have hulking monsters I pay very well to throw you the fuck out of here, if I must. Don’t make me call them. Leave the Lady be!"
“Sir... Armand... he is no bother to me.” Amanda said in a hushed tone.
In an instant, Armand stopped his threats. "My apologies, Madame. Can... can I interest you in a special plate?"
“Aye...” she said in a more sultry voice, not looking away from Contreras.
She added, “Would you join me for dinner, Captain? Armand always prepares something unique for special occasions.”
For a moment, every nerve in Jovan’s body sparked. He bowed his head. It was almost hard for him to talk to her now. He so wanted that sensation to return and sweep him away.
He found his voice. “If... you wish. My business dealing for this night is done. It would be an honor. Won’t... your companion mind?”
“Companion?”
“Yes... A fine woman like you must be here with someone. Please, find no offense in how I say this but ... any ass that should bring you to such a hovel and not make it his business to guard you at every moment is beyond my comprehension.” He took the seat opposite hers, placing his hat beside him. He made sure he kept both of his hands on the table for her to see.
She lowered her head but not her eyes.  They were almost unblinking. Now, a touch of humor softened them. Her lashes were dark and very long. She laughed a little, “I am here of my own accord, Captain. No one will be meeting me, except my driver at a later time.”
He opened his mouth, stunned.
She must be joking! She maybe able to fight but this is Port Royal! Some drunken group of bastards would devour her like ripe fruit and leave her for dead in a darken corner! Someone must be here protecting such a marvelous creature!
He started to speak, but she raised a hand.
With a soft smile she began again, “We inventors are a curious lot. We must be both adventurous and cautious in our work. I am that way in my life. I go where I choose to go, with or without a male beside me, yet I have my own protective systems in place.”
Jovan smirked. “Funny, you say that about inventors. My man has become a recluse. He doesn’t go on adventures the same way you seem to suggest is a quality of your kind.”
She nodded. “Alan Lancer is one of many men who doesn’t know when enough is enough. He is a thorn in my side, sir.“



Saturday, November 3, 2012

Nigia Imagines...: When The Lights Came On After Sandy

Nigia Imagines...: When The Lights Came On After Sandy: I wrote this last night when the lights came on in The Lower East Side.  "Walking from 210 Stanton to 1st Ave and 6th street. Its bitter c...

When The Lights Came On After Sandy

I wrote this last night when the lights came on in The Lower East Side. 

"Walking from 210 Stanton to 1st Ave and 6th street. Its bitter cold tonight. Some folks are blasting music like James Brown out their windows. But its Friday night here. This place is still very dead. Everyone is worn out. A few bars are at half full. People are walking their dogs and praising them for not being afraid now that the lights are on. I didn't realize that dogs can be afraid of the dark. 
Heading home now. Thinking I'd hit the Red Hook and Volunteer on Saturday or Sunday, then again, maybe not. My place is a wreck and I've got to work on my novel before work on Monday. But the cold is reminding me that there are folks and kids freezing their asses off or are miserable in shitty shelters all over the city. I'll help out again very soon.
I've got to say, it's so good to have street lights and stores lit again in a place that is usually so alive."


After I wrote this on my IPhone, I took the 15 bus to 34th. 28th street to 34th streets was still without power. It was dark and creepy even with traffic flowing.  The Empire State Building was lit. That was very nice. I loved seeing guys with a headlamp strapped to their foreheads. Some  walked arm in arm with a girl to try enjoy the night and see what buildings had generators to charge a phone. After three long blocks, I jumped on a bus going to 42nd Grand Central Station. It is super lit over there and near normal. The bus lines for downtown were massive but some of those people will be very happy to have power when they get home.

It's a strange time here. We are so very happy to have the simplest things go right. 

Power to the People.

Oh, and below is a link to why I feel the damned NYC Marathon mattered NOT this year. 
If the link dose not work, Google "Queens residents arm themselves in post-storm blackout from looters" via The Daily News.

http://www.nydailynews.com/new-york/queens/queens-residents-arm-looters-article-1.1196031

Friday, November 2, 2012

Nigia Imagines...: About The Flow of Creativity...

Nigia Imagines...: About The Flow of Creativity...: Blessed are the creative. That we may endure tough times and other peoples bullshit with grace, humor or with loads of sarcasm. Blessed ar...

About The Flow of Creativity...


Blessed are the creative.
That we may endure tough times and other peoples bullshit with grace, humor or with loads of sarcasm. Blessed are we that use strife to create wild and thoughtful art, harsh poetry and the like while staying ourselves. At least, you know who you are facing.  May the Muse of Creative Juices flow to all children and never be diverted by adults bent on their child becoming more socially acceptable or filthy rich and tasteless.
Creative places around the world are struct with sudden disasters or are destroyed but thankfully, such places of art and thought are transient as its people. Nomads are we Creative Creatures. We are in search of a home where eats are cheap and booze is plentiful, where we can meet someone and love them hard and live well while making art and writing books. NYC was that. What it will become after the terrorist attack, budget cuts, black outs, super high rents,  The Great Recession, and now Hurricane/noreaster Sandy... well, its anyones guess.
There is Portland Oregon but the verve I'm used to could not be possibly there. Still, I'll have to check it out. It's always good when cash runs flush, to check out a place to live.  An artistic type, needs a place not just for existing to squeeze out babies then, grow old and complain a lot only to become worm food. Though, it is a must to have some stability but not become stagnant. I'd like to make connections in places like San Fran, Edinburgh Scotland, Australia or Portland but NYC must always have a creative pulse.
I was born in NYC and raised here so I know it is integral to the country. So, like many other poets,  writers and the like, I'd want to deposit bright drops of molten art, novels and poetry in enclaves of friends, in some art gallery or with family that stay put. As artist, some of us  keep apartments to rent filled with paint, easels and art books. Or, we have a bed and a drafting table at our Mom's, or a couch and kitchen table to rest our laptop at an ex lover/good friends' place to finish our novels. We do this in a city that allowed us to be ourselves, hoping to keep a connection. Artsy types are also blessed 'cause we know that all trends and disasters, wars and strife are pretty much cyclical. Creativity is a river and it may flow again in the place we just left. We have to follow it and live along its shores.

It's time for coffee and to do some writing. I got a book to finish.


Thursday, November 1, 2012

Nigia Imagines...: On Sandy and Obama from a New Yorker...

Nigia Imagines...: On Sandy and Obama from a New Yorker...: A word about the election after living through Sandy... I feel Barack will lose and here is why.   One conservative on FB is telling m...

On Sandy and Obama from a New Yorker...


A word about the election after living through Sandy... I feel Barack will lose and here is why.  
One conservative on FB is telling me about how much money the Obama Gov. is keeping for its self. This is what I said to Michael...

"Why don't you live here (NYC) for the next few days Michael? See just how much anyone gives a shit about his (Obama's) cut so long as he restores lights. We are so fucking sanctimonious in America. Here's a clue from a native NYooker... ALL GOVERNMENTS STEAL! I don't give a damn if he's lacing his wife's undies with GOLD FOIL! Everyone is soooo red in the face about what money his government is getting. Where the hell were all you guys durning the wars??? YES, there are fat cats in Washington. Let me say this Michael, while you vote him out, the fuckers on Wall Street will piss away FAR MORE LOOSE CHANGE than you have ever seen on their kids and massages and trips THAN ANY GOVERNMENT. TRILLIONS! We get the government we deserve. I hope its Mitt. When your state needs help for something like mine dose, just say NO to any money the Gov. is willing to offer."

We are not Russia, Spain or Greece but loads of folks talk like they woke up in the mid Dark Ages of Europe where Obama is concerned. 

 Too many people are being affected by the minor things he didn't do. The three biggest things that help this country out Health Care Reform, saving GM, and now Sandy Relief, will mean nothing. The small amount of money Health Care Reform was asking for people to give is what poor people spend on liquor every Friday for a month. This stuff like Health Care Reform is to help the middle class from lower to upper tier. Also, if GM had failed we would've been in a depression overnight! It would've been far worse than what we've experienced already!

And now THIS. Has anyone seen if "Mittens" has asked his big-money friends to donate to New York? Before this, New York and New Jersey needed about three times as many libraries schools and art institutions than they have. This was a scientists estimate I heard. NYC is just their damn CASINO. 

They don’t LIVE here. Now what?



I want to wake up after the election and see Obama in the White House.   If all you whiners can do a better job then PLEASE, take your asses to Washington and DO IT.

http://gothamist.com/2012/10/31/outrage_in_the_powerless_zone_a_dis.php