where the writers are
sweetestkiss.jpg
Midnight at Sheremetyevo in "The Sweetest Kiss"
Not available.

Remittance gives an overview of the book:

Perhaps it was the marbled, morgue-like stillness of the place, or because I hadn't fed for more than three days. Maybe it was the fact that my body clock was so confused from all the travelling, but for some reason, I was feeling a little vulnerable. And he looked so innocent, so scrumptious - like a little lost piece of patisserie - alert and slightly out of place in that huge, cold mausoleum of an airport.
Read full overview »

Perhaps it was the marbled, morgue-like stillness of the place, or because I hadn't fed for more than three days. Maybe it was the fact that my body clock was so confused from all the travelling, but for some reason, I was feeling a little vulnerable. And he looked so innocent, so scrumptious - like a little lost piece of patisserie - alert and slightly out of place in that huge, cold mausoleum of an airport.

Read an excerpt »

"I'm not too young." His voice quavered, sounding almost plaintive.

It must have taken him no small amount of courage to follow me in there, and the adrenalin still tainted his muscles, making him shaky. The smell of it seeped through his skin. I turned slowly, leaving his beautiful image forever static in the mirror.
"You have no idea what you're doing, boy. Go away," I whispered harshly, counting the pulses of blood as they hammered against my eardrums.

One, two, three...

"Turn around and walk out, little dove."

Four, five, six...

"Go now. Go!"

Seven, eight, nine...

Too late and far beyond my control, I was on him in a flash, pushing his back against the cold tile wall. The speed frightened him and now the scent of his youth mingled with the sharp, sweet smell of fear.

Waste not, want not.

That's what I thought as I kissed him, falling onto those plump, angelic lips so eager to be kissed. They parted beneath mine like wet, ripe fruit. I ate and I ate, sucking each of them in turn into my mouth, stroking their length with my tongue. Beneath my hips, he came brilliantly alive, his jean-covered cock a desperate hunter-seeker, blind and straining for a target. If I was going to take what I needed, I could at least give him what he had come looking for first.
 

remittance-girl's picture

Note from the author coming soon...

About Remittance

Remittance Girl is my pen name. I'm a Canadian-born writer living in Vietnam. I mostly write erotic fiction of a literary bent, but stray from it at times to write the occassional piece with absolutely no sex in it. I teach narrative at a university here, and grow orchids...

Read full bio »

Published Reviews

Jan.26.2010

Remittance Girl (RG) is an erotic writer talented way beyond my humble attempts to describe. She is unflinching when it comes to probing the sexual darkness in humanity. Among many themes, she’s written...

Jan.26.2010

The book opens with “Midnight at Sheremetyeo” by Remittance Girl. It is a simple tale, not really new in plot, of a vampire who breaks the rules that keep them from being hunted down. She takes a very tasty...