"I'm ready to laugh again. And mean it."

Those were the last words I wrote in my morning pages today. 

Yesterday I chatted about and shared some of my favorite places to escape after a long day in retail. Customer service jobs are an interesting mix of real human connection and the ability to turn off emotion and eat shit with a spoon while smiling. I've learned a lot of skills over my two decades of working with the general public. 

I've learned how to go up and talk to pretty much anyone. Which served me well in conventions. I still stumbled and got star struck from time to time, but there wasn't a single person I wanted to meet that I didn't when afforded the opportunity.

I've learned to read people. Some people want to talk. Like the gentleman I got to chat with about his brand new sports car he got at seventy-five years old. Or the woman who needed a hug because she'd buried two people in the past week and was unable to read labels because of the tears in her eyes. Then there are people who won't get off their phones to give me their savings account information at the register. I just let those fuckers continue on with their conversations and without their sales cards. NEXT. But in learning to take stock of where someone is in their mental state by body language and intonation, I can interact with people or leave awkward conversations at appropriate moments.

I've learned patience. DEAR GOD HAVE I LEARNED PATIENCE. 

But I've also learned how to dim myself. 

Being a representative for someone else means I have to turn my own opinions and thoughts off. Because in order to keep my corporate funded and detailed job, I have to follow the rules even if they don't make sense. So a vast majority of my days on the job include finding a way to spin the tasks so as not to go against my personal thoughts on how the store should actually be run. It's a hard spin some days, and perhaps that's just my entrepreneurship education coming back to haunt me. (My very expensive education that I will never pay off. LOL)

I was writing with my CP last night and we were chatting about how even when we can't say the things we want to say out loud, we can create the world we want to see in our books.

Ever hear the threat from a writer that they will kill you in their books if you're not nice to them? Yeah. That's a thing. And even in fantasy, science fiction, and paranormal stories, a writer is going to incorporate their emotions into the book. For a book to connect, the writer has to be honest. 

I've seen a lot of people tell their readers that "if you don't like my Facebook and Twitter feed, you won't like my books." And you know what? There's truth to that, but there's also the opportunity to change minds through books. My DMA Files books were written during a time in my state where there were people being blocked from getting their marriage licenses. There was talk about how all this discussion around sex and love between people of the same or non-traditional gender labels was awful "for the children".  

​​And while I was worried about how I was portraying my emotions into the stories, I am much less so now. I write with humor, or at least with stuff I find funny. And I write with the idea that love finds you among the most difficult and awkward situations. The humor is just a byproduct of being able to laugh at the horrid situations we sometimes find ourselves in. Because when things get bumpy, whether from external or internal obstacles, being able to laugh brings me out of it.

I spend a lot of my day as the real me tip-toeing. I don't tip-toe in my books. And I think that's why I love the stories. I don't hold back the cuss words. I don't hold back the sex scenes. And I don't hold back the jokes at the expense of a corrupt system holding back people I care about.

I'm writing again regularly, and I'm letting the one-liners and dad jokes fall right alongside the anger and frustration. I'm letting the comebacks and cuss words accompany the open-door sex scenes. Because I'm ready to laugh again. Really laugh without worrying about who might be listening. I'm putting this next batch of characters through hell, but I'm all in for making sure they see the light through love and humor.

I can't wait to laugh along with them again tonight when I write more of their story. I'm ready.

​~Roxy

I'm working on a draft for some more #ROBOSEX at the moment, but until I can wrap up this couple in a tidy bow, I thought I'd share a taste of Coral's story. 

The Coral-600 is a biometal mechanical entity with a human skin overlay infused with sea life DNA. This means she will basically be young and hot for an indeterminate period of time. But as much as you'd think you'd want to hate her because of that, her innocence and joy at her body's reaction to desire will put a smile on your face. 

Coral's desire wakes up inside her when a man named Quinn comes to stay at the palace. After a long night of dancing and learning just a little about the human mating rituals, Coral finds herself alone with Quinn.  

Enjoy this excerpt from Virgin on Human

All of my preparation went out the window when Quinn entered the kitchen as I cleaned up the remaining dishes.

“Quinn, you missed dinner. Should I prepare something for you? The chefs have left, but I am programmed with basic culinary skills.” I put the dish back into the soapy water and dried my hands on the dish towel I had slung over my shoulder.

“Are you really going out with Paisley to get laid tonight?” He asked me with his hands on his hips. His manner was very confrontational.

“That does not answer my question about the food.”

“I want an answer to my question first.” He folded his arms over his chest. His forearms flexed and I admired the musculature under his skin. I wondered if any of his arms were mechanics.

“I was planning on dancing more. I was not planning on lying down.”

He exhaled and dropped his arms. “Then yes, I would love a sandwich.”

I prepared him a sandwich and removed some of the fennel salad to put on his plate as well. I waited for him to make noises of contentment around his meal before I continued the conversation. “I will, however, have sex should the opportunity arise. I find myself anticipating the opportunity to have another orgasm.”

Quinn began choking. He had inhaled his sandwich. That was no way to process nutrients. I walked behind him and slapped him on the back to break up any large particles in his airway. He sputtered and made noises, but drank the water I put in front of him and seemed to recover nicely.

I would have given him the Heimlich maneuver, but I found myself wanting to touch him in other places and it would not have been easy to keep my hands in the proper position.

“Coral, you can’t go pick up men and have sex with them.”

“I will do my best to give them an orgasm as well. I want to make sure the experience is satisfactory for all parties involved.” I went back to the dishes. Quinn should have been satisfied now that I had explained I would not be seeking only my pleasure.

He wasn’t.

“That’s not what I am getting at.” He got up and stood right behind me. My skin felt warmer even without him touching me. Was there some kind of strange reaction that our systems had with each other?

I pulled the drain as I set the last clean dish in the drying rack and turned towards the man behind me. I was going to explain that this was not negotiable. I was going to explain that just because I was mechanics didn’t mean I couldn’t give and receive this kind of pleasure.

I had all of the words in queue to be processed through my vocal chords. Then Quinn gripped me by my upper arms and leaned in to kiss me. His lips pressed against mine. His body pushed mine up against the sink behind us.

I’d never been more uncomfortable in my maid’s uniform. I wanted all of it off. Quinn couldn’t touch my pussy with my stockings and underwear on. He needed to touch my pussy. I felt myself getting wet at the thought of him touching me like he did last night. I pressed my hips against his. That’s when I knew there were mechanics in both his arms, because he held me tight.

His tongue slipped against my lips. I opened my mouth to ask him why he was licking me on my face when he could have been licking my pussy again. Instead of my argument my tongue was busy wrapping and sliding around Quinn’s. This felt good too.

I lifted my hands to his chest and gripped his shirt to pull him closer. When he realized I was not going to push him away he released my arms and wrapped his strong limbs around me. One hand rose to grip the French twist in my hair and move my head where he wanted while he kissed me. The other hand went lower and gripped my ass. He pressed my body harder against his. I liked that.

​His erection pressed against my stomach and I wanted to have sex even more. If my pleasure receptors were firing off this much data at the touch of his penis on my belly… through all these layers of clothes…I wanted to have sex. Immediately. 

How was that for a first kiss? I wish mine had been that explosive. But then again, I didn't wait ninety-some odd years to have one. Coral had some anticipation built up. 

Have you read my first #ROBOSEX book? What did you think? And what would you like to see in the series?

​~Roxy