May 4th, 2011

half shadow

The Prince’s Boy: 93

93: Kenet

I tried to be stoic as the fight began. I tried to kneel off to the side where the mage had put me and draw no attention to myself. I needed him to believe me harmless and cowed.

When Jorin felled Bear, though, I am sure I must have been as wide-eyed as an owl. I had never seen Bear bested in combat, and I had never seen Jorin attack someone that way. I held my tongue, though, saying nothing, not even a whimper.

Read the rest of this entry »

Mirrored from Circlet Press: Welcome to Circlet 2.0.

Women on the Edge of Space: Author Chat & Excerpt by Shanna Germain

The excerpt is from the first section of "The Many Little Deaths of Cicilia Long." As often happens with my stories, this one started with a very specific voice. It wasn't Cicilia's voice, though, but a more removed narrator, one with a slightly wicked sense of humor. In the story, I also wanted to explore the "little death" idea -- how common belief is that we can have many orgasms but only one true death. I got to thinking -- what if we could have lots of both? Would they get boring? Or would we continue to welcome each of them with the same joy and delight?

Here, Cicilia has just done her first (of many) "rift jumps," which is what begins her awakening into her own sexuality.


***

And then she jumped.

Rifts are funny things, scientifically somewhere between black holes and worm holes, but looking more like ripped holes in a piece of sky fabric, a long jagged tear that let the underslip of the world show through. Sky fabric, unlike real fabric, is neither soft nor flexible, the sharp, hard edges opening toward a wide middle section. That very middle, wide-open center, was where Cicilia was supposed to do her rift-jumping.

Cicilia realized just how much rifts are funny thing as she went through this one, but didn't actually go through it. In fact, she was just two clicks to the left of where she needed to be, and her bottom half went through it and her top half hit hard enough against the edge of the rift that it dented her helmet, a sound so loud that even the girl who was trained in navigation heard it through the motion camera and drew in her breath, having realized at last that she had caused the love of her life, Cicilia Rachel Long, to have her first death.

Cicilia, who did not know any of this, but who knew that this wasn't how rift jumping was supposed to go -- at least not according to the hundreds of simulations she'd done at base -- had a moment of disconnect, what with her body going two ways and her mind going a third, and then there was a rather loud snap, like a door closing, and Cicilia was rift jumping, only it wasn't like any rift she'd ever seen, not even on the "When Things Go Wrong, Which they Won't, But Just in Case, Videos I, II, III, IV and V" that they'd showed at base. This was kaboom and her whole body went whooshing. No, not her body, as though her body had been broken into an infinite number of pieces and she could feel each one all edged and tingly. Her body, in all of its separate units, not just down to her nipples and clit, but down to her cells, her neurons and dendrites and axons, all gave a collective gasp as if preparing themselves. The implosion and explosion were simultaneous, lightening the atmosphere with their collective heat.


Dying, thought the infinite exploding stars that once were Cicilia, was way better than sex.

***
Ford

Author Chat: Women on the Edge of Space author Laurel Waterford

I hope you'll forgive my shyness.  "Fair as the Moon, Clear as the Sun" is the first story I've had published, anywhere, and I'm really not used to participating in anything like this. 

I am so pleased and proud that Danielle chose my story, The title comes from the Song of Solomon, a bridge between faith and sexuality.  The story is about a young woman coming to accept her sexuality, and the consequences of doing so in a hostile atmosphere.  There are subtle undertones of a larger story which I might be able to tell later, but for this one the focus is very tight, on my main character and the other women on her very small ship.

I'm fascinated by the lure of the forbidden. I  wonder, sometimes, whether we will always have taboos, because breaking them is so much fun.
women on the edge of space, unfolding her wings, circlet press, elizabeth black, science fiction

Story Excerpt - Unfolding Her Wings by Elizabeth Black

This excerpt is from my short story "Unfolding Her Wings", which is about pregnant Sun and her spouse, Gatria, who live and work in space. Sun remains at home on the space station and misses Gatria, who is away from home working in zero-G. Sun no longer works in zero-G due to the effect is has on her and her growing fetus. Their secondary partner, Shira, stops by to check on Sun and feed her breakfast on Gatria's orders.

Collapse )
new collection, 2019

Women on the Edge of Space: "Adrift" Excerpt By Kaysee Renee Robichaud

I'm happy to share an excerpt from my story "Adrift." It comes right from the beginning, so there's no setup needed:

"Adrift"


Love had come frantic and precious and hot. Afterwards, they held each other in the Captain’s bed, woman to woman. Brave explorers spooned, shivering with every passing second.

“It’s not fair,” Lydia Wealty said, turning to crush her Captain’s lean body in a tight embrace. “We’ve only just found each other. This should be thrilling. Why does it feel like a defeat?”

“Because,” Captain Adrianne Furlong replied, running fingers through Lydia’s white blonde curls, “we are defeated.”

The Captain’s quarters were almost romantic bathed in the emergency lighting’s soft glow. Few furnishings, but these were comfortable. The bed linens clung to their sweaty bodies, battling the growing chill.

“There has to be a way,” Lydia said.

“We’ve been over this,” Adrianne replied. “We have three lifeboats. More than enough space for the two of us. The Rapier’s fire lance will likely focus on the Eleemosynary, the larger target. So long as the lifeboats speed in different directions, our chances of escape are not insignificant.”

“Unless it possesses multiple weapon banks,” Lydia said. “Additional offensive systems we’re unaware of. The thing is one big enigma...”

“We know its fire lance cuts deep,” Adrianne said, “and the Eleemosynary cannot survive another encounter.”

“So we sit in our lifeboat coffins,” Lydia said, “and we hope for the best.” The odds were too great and stacked against them.

Fingers glided down Lydia’s back. The Captain was a rugged woman, late forties. She had lost her left breast to a mastectomy. Her torso, throat, and face were dotted with scar tissue reminders of an encounter with an exploding reactor shield. Lydia had memorized each white dot and crescent— these scars lay scattered along the canvas of her body like stars across the tapestry of space. Lydia met the Captain’s hard blue eyes, and something shifted in her gut—pain twinge.

We are defeated. Adrianne’s words sank in, draining Lydia’s will to live or fight.

For more sexy, lesbian, space exploration stories, check out Women on the Edge of Space! I'm pretty proud to have my story appearing alongside the wonderful pieces by Shanna Germain, Laurel Waterford, and Elizabeth Black.