Friday, December 31, 2010

Luscious Poems by Reine Amodeo

Indigo Skye: Ink and Art
Welcomes Poet Reine Amodeo

Reine Amodeo is a poet, singer and songwriter. She takes energies and lessons and transforms them into poetry. Amodeo grew up on Long Island, New York.  After becoming homeless with three kids, she began to share her life lessons in a blog and book.  She hopes to inspire others to shine and keep going through all the trials to see the blessings.

A few words from the author:

"My book is called Soul Words.  All the proceeds go to the Make A Wish Foundation. I have been very lucky to also have a very gifted musician turn my poems into music. He is a very well known indie artist- Sean T. Wright.  We called the project Seahorse EchoToday I live on the South Shore of LI at the seaside and am working on a few more projects online and another book to come!"

Come To Me

By Reine Amodeo

In the lush water, clung to my outline,

Running down my aching breasts; they swell to the touch, Imagination’s kiss.

Breath is deep, I bite my lip, my fingers slip down till I groan and whisper.

Body flushed, eyes shut, raven hair wet and stuck to my face, I begin to trace between my legs deeply.

Would you taste me?

Would you play with me?

Run your tongue across my thighs, as I pull you in tight.

Let me explore you, my mouth would adore you, with every lick.

Watch me closely, as I bend over you; tease you and taunt you to kiss my feet.

Hands on my ass, pull me down fast;

I scream as you’re thrusting, my legs wrapped around your waist; I feel you pulse our hearts race.

Your lap is drenched with my sweetness pouring, inside me filled with your delicious release.

Come to me, in astral planes

Let's live out this fantasy…

The Purpose

By Reine Amodeo

Search, seek, ask, wait for the answer.

Mission, transition, submission to the flow.

Dilate, relate, complicate existence.

Move forward, step back, fear and desire are common axis.

We grasp.

Universal coalition, came by a slit in the time continuum.

Born of the stars, work at the gate, connecting like souls as they spin and vibrate.

The Universe is alive, it reaches and thrives as we sleep.

We come as a dream, oh how does one wake?

Slowly, mindfully, compassionately, softly.

That is why time is in place, to set the pace.

If you force the change, your mind gets deranged,

There is reason for everything.

Do not tamper the laws, human flaw wants results fast.

Make your lessons here last, relish with reverence the cause.

There is beauty, tranquility, unity, serendipity.

There is thought, action, reaction, satisfaction.

Progressions, regression, transmutation, revelation.

All part of being.

Blind and seeing, present and lost in the self.

Ego is a shelf we sit covered in illusions.

Then comes truth.

The greatest question of mankind.

What shall we find in the mist of it all?

Mystery, complexity, diversity, honesty.

The book of life has no end.

Scrolled across the levels of light, eternity writes the script.

What is thy purpose?

All of IT

I'll be featuring more of Ms. Amodeo's fantastic poetry in 2011.  Stay tuned to Indigo Skye: Ink and Art for details.  Can't get enough of that steamy stuff?  Get in Touch with Reine online!

Visit her blog at:

Follow her inspiring poetic tweets on Twitter:

"I see the lights, I see the party lights..." 

Wishing my Followers and Fans A Safe and Sexy New Year's Eve!!!
I'll be Ringing in 2011 with a Bang...

Thursday, December 30, 2010

Warm Up Your Winter Nights with "Strangerlove," A Sizzling Free Read by Justine Elyot

Indigo Skye: Ink and Art
Welcomes Author Justine Elyot

Justine Elyot never thought she'd see her name on a book, but somehow she has two on the top shelves now. On Demand was the last ever full-length book to be printed by the legendary Black Lace, while The Business of Pleasure is her first - but not last - outing with Xcite Books. Additionally, she has had short stories and novellas published by Black Lace, Xcite, Cleis Press, Total E-Bound and Noble Romance. She leans towards the kinky side of things. The left-hand side. The sinister.


By Justine Elyot

Do you ever ask yourself, “How did I get here?”

I mean, of course I know how I got here – I bought a ticket and jumped on a train; easily done, although the destination on the front said Waterloo when it should have been The Unknown. But how did Adela Howard go from being a nice girl who dates losers to a woman who is prepared to meet a stranger in a hotel for no-strings sex? That is a bigger question altogether.

This is the right hotel, I think. The Luxe Noir, a big, intercontinental type of place. For the ninetieth time I recheck the email on my phone.

“Hotel Luxe Noir, Reception, 5.00 pm sharp. Give your name at Reception. Bring only yourself; we will provide everything else you need.

StrangerLover – the enigmatic mastermind behind I think back to how Gabe described it – a dating agency in reverse.

“None of the awkward smalltalk, none of the waiting by the phone, none of the wildly promising dates that lead to disappointing sex and the inevitable hunt for an exit tactic.” The blurb had made it sound exactly what I needed.

I look back; the taxi is still there. I could jump back in. I am under no obligation to go through with this…but if I don’t, I will wonder forever where this might have led. Before I can think myself out of it, I take a brisk trot up the steps and across the lobby towards the Reception desk. The girl behind it allays my fears with her complicit smile; its warmth persuades me that I am safe and all will be well. “Room 344,” she tells me. The Unknown has a number.

The door of 344 is opened by a woman. I stand staring at her perfect skin and glossy dark hair for a stunned moment before she smiles and ushers me in, showing me to a chair before seating herself opposite.

“Hello, Adela. I’m so pleased you could make it. Before you take fright, I should explain that I am not your match for the evening – I am simply a facilitator.”

I leak out a punctured laugh. “Oh…ah. I see.”

“My role is to make sure that you are completely aware of the rules and happy with them. Do you understand, Adela, that you can call off the meeting at any time?”


“There is a panic button behind the headboard on the right if it should come to it – but let me reassure you that this has never happened before, and we are extremely careful about who we will accept on to our database. We have every confidence that you will be a very satisfied customer today.”  She smiles conspiratorially and I giggle. I am very, very nervous.  “Now I must just run through our few rules one final time, Adela. You understand that neither of you must give your name or any personal details to your match?”

“Yes, I read that.”

“If you are happy with the outcome and want to see your match again, you may make arrangements to do so through the website. We do ask you not to reveal personal details until you have enjoyed five successful encounters. Then, if you both wish, you may continue your relationship in private. If you decide to do this, do please let us know at the site. We love success stories.”

She stands, smiling again, and gestures me up with one elegant hand.

“I am going to go now, Adela, but I have one last stipulation. For this first meeting, we always ask that our clients wear a blindfold.”

“Really? Why?” I widen my eyes as the woman produces a length of black satin from her expensive clutch.

“We at StrangerLove believe that sexual compatibility runs much deeper than looks. You might remember from our application form that we did not ask any questions about your preferences on the basis of appearance. We simply asked what you found sexy in a man. We believe we have found you the perfect match, but we would be so very disappointed if some trivial prejudice against, say, moustaches or ginger hair caused you to miss the lover of your lifetime.”

“Are you saying this man has a ginger moustache?”

She laughed. “No. I am not saying that. I think you know what I am saying.”

I nod slowly. In a way, this is a huge relief. I had no idea how I was going to meet his eyes anyway. She moves behind me and I shut my eyes obediently, allowing her to fasten the stretchy material around my head until I am freed from the distraction of sight.

I allow her to lead me to the bed and perch me on its side. Two of her fingertips rest, coldly and briefly, on my cheek before she wishes me a very gentle good evening. The door clicks and I am alone.

In enforced darkness, I am aware of the cling of my blouse and a stiffness at the back of my neck. I try not to breathe, training my ears to pick up any and every sound, but the room is quite quiet. After a long time, which could be five minutes, or less, or more, I put my hands up to my face, thinking I might remove the blindfold and leave.

It is then that a tiny click and creak from the direction of the ensuite bathroom causes my shoulders to jump. It really is the faintest of sounds, but to my taut nerves it is a thunderous roar. What do I hear? A swishing sound, and the fibres of the carpet flattened by footsteps. The room is warm, but my skin goosepimples at a wavelet of air at my front. I hear more swishing, which I guess is my mystery match crouching down on his haunches. I work hard on keeping my back straight and my mouth from wobbling. The gentlest suggestion of heat radiates from the solid presence before me; I find I am guessing at height and build just from this. Tall, I think, and broad.

I sense the hand moving towards me before it makes contact with my skin. To my shame, I flinch as it touches my cheek, exactly the spot that the woman had chosen earlier.

“Ah. You are here.”

The voice is seated somewhere deep in his chest. He sounds educated, professional, successful, perhaps a bit sporty. A hint of self-deprecating humour lurks behind the spoken message. Strange how much you can deduce from four words, when you cannot see.

“Did you think I wouldn’t come?” I ask. There is a pause, during which I imagine he is making the same guesses and estimates as I just did.

“I never assume,” he says. “I’m glad I’ve found you though, before I broke my shin on something.”

I giggle. “This is strange.”

“Stranger,” he says. “Shall we save the talking for later? If that’s all right with you?”

“It’s…” I trail off. Even though I know the drill, it is still surreal to be living it. I feel as if I should apologise for my shameful lusts, or qualify them. “I suppose we should.”

“If you have cold feet, you have only to say so,” he says. He reaches blindly for one of my hands and finds it. “Though these are warm enough.”

“No. I don’t want to back out. You seem…right.”

“Good. Talk later then.” He puts a finger to my lips and drags it along, first the lower, then the upper, before pulling me suddenly to my feet and into a kiss.

Not the kind of first kiss I am used to; this is more like the third or fourth – the ‘in your stride’ kiss, the ‘I can’t wait to get you to bed’ kiss, the ‘I know my way around your mouth’ kiss. Full-lipped and confident, my unknown ravisher presses me to his body, which is naked apart from a satiny dressing gown of some kind. I move my hands up beneath it and my knuckles glide against the sheeny fabric while my fingertips explore his pectoral muscles, his strong back, his shoulders. I am having to crane my neck to engage in this kiss, so I am right about the height, and his hand feels large and hot and possessive on the back of my head, holding it still under the insistent pressure of his tongue.

There are wiry hairs around his nipples and a scar at the shallow inlet between ribcage and pelvis. I investigate intently, trying to fix his body in my memory, moving down to his hips. He breaks the kiss and places a hand on mine, halting its downward quest.

“You’re still dressed,” he whispers.

He knows how to undress a woman in the dark, and that really impresses me. He does not forget my cuffs, or try to pull my shirt over my head or wrench my skirt down without looking for the button – elementary things that so many men seem to lack the instinct for. He moves in for another thorough scouring of my mouth once he has me down to bra and knickers, and his hands are everywhere, unpredictable in their pattern, rough and hot against my skin while his forearms tighten around my back, jolting me hard against him.

He has a smell about him that is not too fragrant; when I rub my nose into his neck I can discern London fumes, coffee, sweat and arousal beneath the delicate aftershave, although it is becoming more difficult to distinguish between my aroma and his. I am melting against him, my bones softening and my sex liquefying as the neverending kiss finds depths beyond those I have ever imagined. We are connected by touch, no more than that, and yet it is so strong.

His thumb yanks the cup of my bra down so that a stiff nipple pops out; he gives my lips a final nip before moving his head down and lapping greedily at my breast. My hands work through his hair – short, thickish, neatly trimmed – while I begin to moan encouragement. The other nipple is redeemed from neglect, and then his hand slips through the waistband of my knickers, pausing slightly as if for permission, which I give by thrusting my hips upwards. His fingers rush downhill to their lush destination, sliding luxuriantly around in the welcoming wetness. I take the opportunity to remove one hand from his hair and stroke the stiff length that has been denting my stomach. Its proportions are more than respectable, I find. I encompass it with one hand, rub a thumb over the rounded head and squeeze.

“Oh God,” he gasps, releasing my nipple from his mouth and tumbling me down on to the bed. He wrenches off my underwear, splays my thighs and drops down to devour my juices. His chin grazes my thighs and lower lips with incipient stubble, stoking the fires between my legs while his tongue probes and flicks, sucking on my clit as if it is manna in the desert. Two, then three, fingers stretch my opening, rotating and scissoring until the stimulation becomes painful, then unbearable, then blissful and I lose myself in the starburst of orgasm.

I hear him growl, then chuckle, then his tongue, tasting of me, is in my mouth again, and then he is sitting up, getting something from his pocket.

“You’re good at that,” I say in a satiated purr, while the telltale stretch and snap of rubber sings in the air, an unambiguous sound that foretells my fate. He is going to fuck me now.

“Yes, I am,” he agrees immodestly. “I’m not bad at this either.”

He slings one leg over a shoulder, and then I am rigorously and unceremoniously shafted, pierced, penetrated, his hands cradling my bottom and pushing it further down and down and down on his seemingly endless cock. He manipulates my body with skill, finding the angles that sweeten the friction the most, filling me with sensation as if the excavations of his cock light up my secret passage. Every sense, barring sight, is stretched to its limit; the furious sounds, the salty tastes, the ripening smell of our mingled bodies, all leading towards the climactic flood that will roar and froth into every extremity. He holds himself off for as long as he can, mindful of my pleasure in a way that is so unfamiliar to me that I almost want to cry, until, fifteen minutes of thrusting and strumming and squeezing and gasping later, he can hold off no more.

We yell and shake and cling fast to one another under the cataract, swept off into a distant shore where only we exist for those few precious moments.

“We should do this again,” he says eventually.

“Yes. We should.”

Can't get enough?  Connect with Justine Elyot Online!

Author Website:

Xcite website (UK version):

Xcite website (US version):

Amazon list of all my books & anthologies:

Author page at Total E-Bound:

Noble Romance:


Wednesday, December 29, 2010

Coming Attractions!

What's Blooming at Indigo Skye: Ink and Art in 2011?

Fabulous Photos...

Intimate Interviews...

Fantastic Free Reads...

And More of Dirk Deeper's Titillating Tales... 
Notes from Under the Desk will Return with a Bang in January!

I've just received word that our very own Dirk Deeper is hard at work on a brand-spanking-new story,  "One Hot Summer."  I've been working with him to hone it to perfection- you'll see the results of our efforts here soon.  Details are top secret, but I can tell you his new tale will heat up the coldest winter nights with some hot guy-on-guy action in a steamy summer-camp fantasy that left me...

Typing with Sticky Fingers

Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Indigo Skye: Ink and Art Welcomes Angela Koh!

Poet Angela Koh

Angela Eun Ji Koh taught English in Seoul, Korea and became a translating assistant in Tokyo, Japan.  After teaching high school comparative literature in Santa Ana, she settled down in Irvine, California with her Manchester, Ari.  She is currently a freelancer for The Orange County Register newspaper. She is fluent in Korean, Japanese, and French. Her work has appeared in Juked, Susquehanna Review and will be featured in Northwestern's TriQuarterly for the Summer/Fall of 2011.

A Moment of Introspection...


by Angela Koh

My mother always loved the rain.

She loved the sharp edges of the stones washed with it

because she liked things clean.

It cleans every alley, she said.

God must like things clean. She was sure of this

more than the broken zippers

and the washed take-out boxes she saved in the pantry.

She loved to bleed.

I hope she finally found God’s cleaning in it.

Skipping Stones...


by Angela Koh


She's not a Lupae she-wolf outside the empire, but a baker's girl. Sometimes she sings and Roman soldiers shout out, "Ambubiae!" They need an outlet while away from their pregnant wives. Maybe prostitutes around tombs make money for Roman society. But baker girls make better bread than beds.

Birth Control

Girls would rather cake crocodile dung doused in honey into their canals. Or chew sweet acacia tree samplings. Sometimes sew sacks of cloths and leather thongs for their men. They could even decorate the glans condoms with snake skin and chimp intestines. Anything from pig bladder or pumpkin pigments to prevent pregnancy.


Men measure sex like Superbowl tickets. Blanchflower and Oswald say happiness gains from weekly bed games equate to fifty-thousand dollars a year. So sex makes money. Monogamous, married couples make regular sex. Maybe men invest in relationships to make regular money.

Strip Club

Strippers with estrus make more tips. Men sense estrus as signals of fertility and sex. It's clear like cats caterwauling in a clarion call for copulating. Only cycles in ovulation show estrus. Meanwhile, menstruating strippers make fewer tips.


Ball sacs look like two quail eggs wrapped in elbow skin. Then a beard grows along its ravine crevice. The coarse cords are more like branches than bushes. A Kundalini serpent is supposed to release sensate focus and sexual energy. But tantric sex and spoon breathing still make him look silly.


Molds dipped into liquid sap make latex stretch thin. Sturdy as surgical gloves; it's serious science. Semiskilled workers in assembly lines spray talcum powder on products to smooth and strengthen. Germans and Dutch pioneered slot machines for coin-operated condoms. Peddlers with portable cases of ties sold condoms hidden at the bottom.

Strike a Pose!

Follow Angela Koh's tweets on Twitter:

Visit Ms. Koh's Blog online at:

View her music video on YouTube:

Thursday, December 23, 2010

Bright Blossoms!

From My Neighborhood to Yours...

Extreme Close-Up:
Marigold from a Bee's-Eye View

Morning Glory in Full Bloom
The out-of-focus quality of some photos gives them a painterly, abstract effect

May Your Passion Bloom Wherever It's Planted!

Look, But Don't Touch:
Thistle in Bloom

Wednesday, December 22, 2010

An Exclusive Interview with Author Rebecca Bond

Rebecca Bond

Bewitched by the vibrancy of city life, Rebecca Bond currently resides in London with The Boy, her fella of eight years. Originally from the sleepy Fens, she uses a combination of urban and rural inspiration to carve stories steeped in fantasy. As long as there’s a good coffee house nearby and chocolate is always within reach Rebecca happily breezes through life and the hurdles it throws in her way.

By daylight Rebecca Bond is immersed in frantic city life working with the UK’s Law Enforcement officers, but by moonlight she uses her daily copperings to fuel her inner muse into creating erotic offerings, transforming mundane reality into exquisite fantasy.

Rebecca has works published on The Erotic Woman and Erotica for All websites, and in the recently released anthology Uniform Behaviour.

Q: Welcome to Indigo Skye: Ink and Art.  We're thrilled to have the chance to chat with such a talented young writer.  Readers are wondering, what's your favorite book to read in bed?

A: Anything of the steamy variety to get my imagination flowing – hopefully leading to a night full of delicious dreaming!

Q: If you had the chance to meet one of your characters, who would you choose for a sexy liaison and why?

A: It has to be the tough, bad boy from ‘Sin City’, a short story of mine appearing in the Uniform Behaviour anthology. He is so commanding and knows how to get what he wants. He’s sexy too, oh yes! So for that quick, rough, up-against-the-wall liaison it has to be him, my rugged perpetrator. However, I’m working on a longer piece at the moment with a leading man who I’d run to in an instant for those longer, more sensual romantic nights. Swoon.

Q: How did you first become interested in writing erotica?

A: I have long been an avid reader of the genre, loving the way it provokes thought and evokes the imagination. I just love the way that words can cause such wonderful feelings within you, feelings that help you escape to another world entirely.

I then started writing my own stories for an audience composed solely of myself. It’s then that I realised how vivid my imagination was and how much I enjoyed escaping to the places on the pages as I was creating a story. It all spiralled from there.

Q: What are you working on now- anything new on the horizon?

A: I’m working on a number of shorts and I’m nearly at the end of a novella – a romantic tale of rebirth and discovery with lots of yummy erotica on every page. I’m hoping to have it out there for the masses some time in 2011, but we’ll have to see what happens. In the meantime I’ll be submitting more pieces to various publishers so again, watch this space...

Q: What's the best way to relax after a gruelling day at the laptop?

A: That’s simple – three of life’s greatest, chocolate and sex- individually or all together, I’m not fussy!

Q: Does your family support your career choice?

A: No idea – they don’t know that I write this stuff, but my mum has been encouraging me for years to concentrate on getting published, so I’m sure she’d be happy for me despite my preferred genre. My partner and close friends all know though and they’ve been fantastically supportive.

Q: Weirdest place you've ever had sex...?

A: Gawd, I’m quite conventional really and tend to stick to the house, the hotel and so on. The sun-lounger on the beach by moonlight though – was quite the romantic experience.

Q: Just for fun- Do you have any tattoos?

A: I do, I have two! One on my lower back and one, which I designed myself, snaking along my foot and ankle. I absolutely love everything about tattoos – the whole process of being inked up really gets to me. I’d certainly love to get more, but I’m so indecisive I’ve no idea what to have done! Feel free to throw your suggestions my way...

Q: Rebecca Bond's Hot Tips for writing a steamy sex scene...

A: Write for yourself and no one else, chances are that if you find something hot then others out there will too. But concentrate on the feelings it evokes within you first, I often find that a story is more passionate when the initial interest and enthusiasm is there.

Q: Let's get our readers' pens moving- how about a sizzling writer's prompt to capture the imagination?

A: Erm...okay, how about this...

She wasn’t afraid of heights. But here, now, watching as the man in front of her scrutinised her naked form, a wicked smirk plastered on his face as he surveyed the ropes that bound her in place, whilst flying through the air at 45,000 feet above the ground, panic finally began to set in.

I’ve no idea where that came from so make of it what you will...

Q: Any final thoughts or words of inspiration?

A: The only person that will hold you back from achieving what you want is you, so be strong, be brave, take chances and go for it – it may just turn out to be the most exciting ride of your life!

You can connect with Rebecca Bond online at:

Visit her Facebook Fan Page at:!/pages/Miss-Rebecca-Bond/177892785573785?v=wall

Or get in touch via Twitter:

Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Coming Attractions...

Readers, you're in for a treat in 2011!  I've had an explosion of interest in my blog, and some new faces will be contributing work to my Guest Starring page in the new year. 

Author Rebecca Bond

Indigo Skye: Ink and Art
Welcomes Rebecca Bond and a Host of New Authors!

Rebecca Bond, one of my fellow Uniform Behavior authors, will soon be gracing us with an interview and a free read- a dark and sinister tale that's sure to be a crowd-pleaser!  More author interviews are on the horizon- I'm hoping to interview everyone who participated in this project. 

For news about Uniform Behavior, please see editor Lucy Felthouse's Author Site.   I've just received word that our anthology has gotten a fab review by Seriously Reviewed!

In Other News...

Charlotte Stein will also be joining the ranks of Guest Starring authors soon... I'm expecting some new poetry by Angela Koh and Joshua Wadsworth... and Dirk Deeper is about due for a new submission.  I know you've been waiting with bated breath!  Looking forward to a steamy, sexy New Year!!!

Friday, December 17, 2010

Fabulous Friday Photos...

Fall Photographs by Indigo Skye...

Thursday, December 16, 2010

My Pouty Lips Features My Fiction!

Hello fabulous fans!  Wonderful news... Angelicka Wallows, erotica goddess and creator of My Pouty Lips, has just published my author profile and one of my stories on her site! 

The Man Downstairs just went live this morning!  It tells the story of Caitlin O'Rourke, a single party girl who's just moved to a new neighborhood.  When she throws a party to get acquainted with her new neighbors, she meets Damian Hirsch, a mysterious and handsome young man with a dark secret. 

For a sneak peek at some new poetry by Jessica Kristie, please see my Guest Starring page to read her sensuous poem, "Bath Water."  Guaranteed to get you all steamed up...

Monday, December 13, 2010

Flash Fiction... A Phone Call

"Hey, sexy.  What are you wearing?"

"Black lacy panties and a tight little T-shirt."

"Yeah?  That's hot.  I wish I was there."

"Me too."

"Tell me what you'd do to me if I was there with you, baby."

"First I'd undress you slowly... take out that big cock and start stroking it for me now."

"I can't.  I'm driving."

"Better pull over.  I want you to concentrate."

"Okay... there's a parking lot up where were we?"

"Get your cock out.  I want to make you come."

"Damn- you're so nasty!"

"I know," I smile.  "If you were here right now, I'd stroke your shaft... then take the head between my lips and start to lick and suck and kiss your mushroom tip-"


"Then I'd deep-throat it- I know you love that."

"And then-?"  I can hear him catch his breath.  I know he's close.

"Mmmm... and then I'd grab your balls and squeeze them, working your cock in and out of my hot little mouth-"

"Oh, fuck.... I'm coming, I'm-" He drops the phone and the line goes dead.  I give him a moment to collect himself, then call back.

"Now it's my turn..."

Saturday, December 11, 2010

Celebrating the Release of Uniform Behavior

Sometimes a girl has to send herself flowers...

Today I'm celebrating the recent release of Uniform Behavior, an anthology of sexy stories about men and women in uniform. Uniform Behavor, edited by Lucy Felthouse, features a story written by yours truly! "True Confession" is a titillating tale about a sexy Southern belle bent on corrupting her hot young parish priest. Steamy stuff!

Speaking of steamy... Here's a sneak peek at the cover!

Just in Time to Warm Up Those Cold December Nights!