First Page: Scent Contemporary Erotic Romance
Welcome to First Page Saturday. Individual authors anonymously send a first page read and critiqued by the Dear Author community of authors, readers and industry others. Anyone is welcome to comment. You may comment anonymously. You can submit your own First Page using this form.
[hr color=”light-gray” width=”50″ border_width=”5″ ]
January: Westchester County, New York
On a frigid Thursday, Amy and Terry sat in facing seats on a northbound Metro-North railcar, elbows on the table between them, looking out the window at a barren Hudson landscape in deep freeze. In brief flashes of dark tunnel, micro-abrasions on the glass gave Amy glimpses of her reflection. Her unusual combination of facial features—rosy sienna skin, dark Asian eyes, full African lips, and untamed brown hair, that had been so irresistible to men in her youth—now seemed mismatched, puffy, and tired.
She sighed. “Has it ever occurred to you that our best-looking years are behind us?”
“Has it ever occurred to you that it doesn’t matter?”
“Of course it matters. Men are visual.”
“Not all of them.” Terry sat proudly and smirked, her jiggling belly and bosom punctuating her words.
“I’m not taking the bait,” said Amy. If Terry told her yet again how amazing being a dominatrix was, how desirable and powerful it would make her feel, she thought she might barf. Since beginning her apprenticeship with “Madame S” in the fall, Terry had been proclaiming the joys of domination with the zealousness of a religious convert. And like a religious convert, she had been trying to recruit Amy. Every time Amy asserted herself or had an exceptionally confident musical performance, Terry would point out how dommy she was. “It obviously makes you happy, Amy. Why fight it?”
T he doors opened, letting in a rush of cold that instantly stiffened Amy’s muscles and stung the exposed skin between her socks and sweatpants. Boots would be nice, she thought. But boots weren’t much to walk in, and they’d need to huff it a half-mile once they got off in Scarsdale. Incoming passengers took their seats, leaving Amy and Terry the table to themselves. Amy relaxed and propped her leg on Terry’s seat, glad that the black sweats were so comfy and thankful not to have to wear some ridiculous leather bodysuit.
She glanced at the train schedule under Terry’s elbow and chuckled.
“What are you laughing at?” asked Terry.
“Valhalla,” said Amy sarcastically.
“What about it?”
“Just that it’s here. I mean, what kind of idiot came up with that name? It’s just a sleepy little cow town on the Hudson. Valhalla’s the great hall of the Norse gods. Siegried and Brunhilde got laid there, and there’s golden apples and dragons and shit. What the hell did they think would happen, giving that name to a town like that?”
“Why you got a bug up your ass?”
“I don’t have a bug up my ass,” said Amy.
“You’ve been snippy all day,” said Terry.
“No I haven’t.”