I am always delighted to present an excerpt from one of my contributing erotic authors published stories, on this occasion it’s an excerpt from the novella Siren by Frank Lee. It’s a wonderful opportunity to illustrate their own style of erotic writing that I am sure will whet your appetite to read more. Frank Lee has previously written SPANISH EYES and PARTY GIRLS PLUS ONE for Frolicme, below is his chosen an excerpt from Siren.  Full details of where you can purchase the full story are at the end.

SYNOPSIS from the novella SIREN by Frank Lee

“After being wounded and left for dead in a junkyard ditch, former police officer, Townes Baylor, spends the next two years training his mind and body for revenge. When he finally catches up with Cray, his nemesis, he meets Siren, a seemingly hapless yet strangely alluring young woman who’s part of Cray’s entourage. Townes takes Siren away from the dangerous situation she’s in, but as the two grow closer and the passion between them deepens, he begins to realize that maybe it wasn’t he who rescued her after all“.

EXCERPT chosen by Frank Lee from his novella SIREN

By the time he reached flat desert, he got off the main road and pulled onto the scrub in the crotch of an intersection of two long, dead straight roads – one paved, the other dirt.  He killed the engine and got out, feeling Siren’s sidelong gaze on him wherever he moved.

It felt good to be out of the truck.  It wasn’t raining and the ground was bone dry.  He didn’t remember driving out from under the storm, and realized there was a tremor in his joints.  He walked to the back of the truck and grabbed the edge of the tailgate with both hands.  A few beats later, Siren got out and joined him.  She was holding the coat closed.

Townes’ hands felt steadier.  There was a large trailer park about a half mile south on the paved road, then miles of arid scrub.  Siren was a complete anomaly against the vast, lifeless backdrop, as if she were somehow that much more alive here.  She could’ve been the only living thing in sight.

“S’okay you din’t kill nobody,” she said, settling beside him.

It was the first thing she’d had to say since they left Cray’s place.  He’d asked her if there was anyplace she wanted him to take her, and all she’d said was wherever.  Now she put her hands up on the tailgate like his.  He looked at her knuckles, and the way the sleeves of his raincoat bunched along her arms.

“I know that in my head,” he told her.  “But I think the idea is still catching up with the rest of me.  You ever get angry at someone, Siren?  Like hateful angry?”

“In yer blood like poison kinda angry?  Guess so maybe.”

She was staring into the bed of the truck.  He studied her profile.  It was hard to imagine her face twisted up in the kind of anger they were talking about, but he knew her life had to be littered with the kinds of things that lay that kind of anger down on someone’s heart.  He thought a moment to ask her about it, but just as quickly realized how pointless it would be.

“You gonna wanna fuck me sometime or other?”  She could’ve been asking if he wanted a sandwich.

“No.”  Shook his head.  Tightened up his jaw a little.

“Don’cha like me?  Seems like most guys wanna fuck me most of the time.  Seems like ya oughta just for bein’ so nice n’ all.”

“I like you just fine, Siren.  And in just about any other circumstance I’m sure I’d want to fuck you more than I’d want to fuck some other lady.  It’s just your pussy isn’t like a greeting card, you know?”

“Din’t mean it that way.  The greeting card way.”  Her face screwed up into a thoughtful frown.  “Ain’t  cuz Cray been there first, izzit?  Cuz he ain’t really been there all too much.  All them drugs he likes kinda…ya know…keep him down.  But he been there just the same.  Din’t know if you’d think I was tainted…like my daddy use ta call it.”

Townes looked back at her face.  She was still staring into the truck bed.  He got the feeling there were a hundred things he could say to please her, and almost nothing that could hurt her.

“It’s not about who’s been inside your body, Siren.  It’s about who lives inside it.”

“Ain’t a lotta people think like that.”

Truck bed, but her eyes moved halfway toward him and then back to the same spot as before.

“Did your daddy ever say you were tainted?”

“Naw.  He just warned me about it all the time.  Pointin’ at other girls I knew and sayin’ don’t be like them.  Guess he’d say I’m like that now, though.”

“What do you say?”

“Don’t really know.  Never thought it mattered that much.  Don’t feel tainted, but enough people look at ya like you’re black and blue and pretty soon you’re gonna feel black and blue.”

“Do you feel black and blue?”

She let go of the tailgate and turned around to lean against it, pulling the sides of Townes’ raincoat open to expose everything but her arms and shoulders to the sun.  She closed her eyes and lifted her face.

“Never felt the sun like this before,” she said, cruising past the question.  “People can’t touch a body like this.”

“Like how?”

“Everywhere all at once.”

Her body was a slow rolling river of sinew, flesh and bone.  There was a pudgy resilience about the jutting swell of her breasts that came off as impudent and demure at the same time.  The shape of her pussy was round yet tapered.  He would’ve thought it a delicate thing, but every instinct he had told him it had been pounded and left for dead in more ditches than he himself could ever survive.


“Yuh huh?”

“Did you ever think being a woman is a fearsome thing?”

“No, sir.”

“T, remember?”

“Yes, sir, T.  And no.  Never imagined such a thing.  But…I dunno…”

“Do me a favor, will you?”

“Guess I owe you that much.”

“No.  You don’t owe me a thing.  Just promise me you won’t keep using your pussy like a thank you note.”

“Sure.  Guess so.  I mean…hardly seems up to me most a the time.”  She angled her head down and opened her eyes.  “Seems like I don’t hardly get to fuck the ones I wanna.”

As they paused on the scrub, Townes felt a steadiness return to his hands.  It seeped from there up his thick arms and all through the rest of his body.  The longer they stood there, the more distance he felt stretching out between Cray and him.  Nothing was moving, but everything was in motion.

“We’re gonna have to find you some clothes,” he finally said.  She chuckled, and he looked a question at her.

“Just seems most’a the time people are tryin’a keep me naked.”

He chuckled in response.  She chuckled again and then he chuckled back some more.  Before long, it turned into the kind of laughing spasms that stretch out beyond the humor of whatever’s been said.  It was the kind of moment they could as easily have turned to crying.

It had never occurred to Townes how fits of laughing or crying were all the same thing.  It was as simple as water boiling over the side of a too full pot.  Times in his life he’d fallen so hard to either laughter or sobbing were outnumbered by the fingers on one hand.  He’d been given to neither since the night he crawled half alive out of a ditch in pouring rain.  He realized from that moment to when he first crouched down in front of Siren he’d existed as nothing but an organism nurtured on the heaviest poisons of the human spirit.

Caught up in laughter, Siren’s face blossomed with light and openness he’d never imagined her capable of.  She didn’t seem changed, but a completely different woman from the crumpled waif he’d found sitting in the corner on the floor.  Her breasts quivered as she laughed, the rising desert sun drawing lines around them in the shape of inflated teardrops.  Her thighs were slightly parted.  Skin like cream and cinnamon.

She caught him looking and the laughter died away.  The thought of existing either before or after the moment they were in was suddenly unimaginable.  There was a river of longing pulsing through his veins.  He wasn’t even sure what he was longing for, but Siren was the bud at the center of it all.

He reached out and touched her face.  His hand was steady while something started spinning inside him.  He said her name.  The word soft but defined.  He wanted to ask if she was feeling the spin, but the question sounded foolish in the silent rehearsal in his mind.

A heaviness that didn’t seem burdensome came into her chocolate eyes.

“Touch my pussy.  Don’t say nothin’, please.  Just do it.”

Everything was all about blood all over again.  But another kind of blood.  The kind that flows in continual circles.  The kind that pushes you ahead, into your next breath.

His hand moved from her cheek down her neck.  She was soft and feral.  Fingertips gliding over collarbone and down to grasp her breast.  Silk and flesh.  Scent of her pussy disseminating in the open air.  Grip, squeeze, live and die.

Siren.  Nipple hard and mighty as starlight.

Fingers releasing.  Palm sliding over her heart.  A regiment of blood marching through the space of her existence.  Random waif, how did you master this trick of being alive?

His hand slid downward over her ribs and hips, coming to rest over the teacup mound at the apex of her thighs.  Her feet moved wider apart in the pale sand.  His fingers slid against the furrow of her sex and found her lacquered with honey.  He was alive through his fingertips, yet separate from them as they moved and slid against her flushed and swollen petals.

“Been like this a while,” she said.  Half breathing.  Half speaking.  “Can’t see no other reason for it but you takin’ me on a walk downstairs.  Tell me if it don’t feel like wakin’ up in the same place at the same time from the same bad dream.”

He moved in front of her, shielding her body from the deserted crossroad.  Left arm went around her shoulders.  Right kept on rubbing.  Massaging.  Light probes into her body as her thighs widened.  Slick fingers smeared honey over the silken hollows framing her pussy.

“Put your hands under my shirt,” he told her.  “Hold me like you would a man you’d love.”

“Yes, sir.”

Her fingers crossed his torso like sparks going off under his skin.  She was upright against the truck and his arm around her, pulling her in.  One large, rough finger slid inside, thumb searching for her clit.  Swollen bud of woman flesh.  No pearl but a diamond shining over lost and broken angels.

Another finger and her nails scored across the scars on his back.  His cock was a raging pulse of heat and strain, but he pulled her in even tighter.  Away from the truck.  Her weight against his.  He cradled her face to his chest while his fingers glided and pumped.

He whispered her name and she whimpered his initial.  A tremor started rocking through her hips and he felt her teeth sink into his chest through his shirt.  The harder she bit, the tighter he held her to him.  She rocked her pussy against his driving fingers, and after a fit of shivering, her body tensed.

Her arms tightened around his trunk until it was hard to breathe.  The shivers were all inside her now as his thumb and fingers ground hard and suddenly backed off when her jaw loosened out of the bite into mewling and gasps.

He held her fast while her breath evened out.  His cock was still straining with heat while he willed his hand to stay calm between her wet thighs.

Moments later, his arm loosened from around her shoulders and she leaned back against the truck.  He brought his hand up from between her legs and painted her supple lips with his coated fingers.

Then he kissed her.  Long, deep and hard as he could remember doing anything.


Siren by Frank Lee is available for kindle download on Amazon.

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