I finished reading the closing chapters of the novel early yesterday morning, as I crawled into my crisp, freshly ironed golden-rod sheets after another night of reading, writing and studying. Compelled, I read it akin to one sneaking a nibble of someone else’s leftover birthday cake. Like an intoxicating lover, patiently enveloped in shadows and deliriously awaiting the cool press of flesh and a sweetheart’s kiss under sighing sheets.
As I read, Mayson’s tacit longing for Renee followed me into slumber, where, somehow, she finds the words to articulate her unspoken passion to a woman she absolutely adores.
“Your secret love will never be your true love,” Luther is crooning now from my PC’s speakers. Could be Mayson realizes this, so she determines to love her friend as just that, a good girlfriend in public. Her soul mate, in her heart. For who knows what tomorrow holds?
Now me. I’m all too familiar with unspoken passion. Having lived it for so much of my life. Dare I admit it? Otra vez? Por que no? I’d be in love with someone who had no virtual idea I loved her. Somehow I’d trust the matter to chance; hell, happenstance; okay, magic! Bueno, bueno. But we all know how that eventually ends. A capacious loneliness. And you.
At some point, though, you snap out of it, and you make a conscientious determination to live in the Present Moment, not in some distant Future, where, off in your dreams, you are The One for The One. Si, Querida, when you eventually awake and smell the roses, because suddenly they DO exist right now, you come to the conclusion that you, too, are blessed. So what? You weren’t the one. That time. Or the next. But eventually…you will be The One.
It’s a good thing I don’t love that groundless way anymore. Can’t do unhealthy…for long. (Giggles)
Mayson, I don’t think, wakes to smell her roses. Though she makes a grave decision to protect those precious blooms. How? She orchestrates a smooth maneuver to assure herself that Miss Lady would be safe, while her secret love sows her sensual oats. What helps to wake Mayson is the presence of a maniacal lover, who has been jilted one too many times. I will not be like Chris, my handsome great-nephew, who narrates a movie while you’re watching it, making you wonder if your career and character can survive a child-abuse charge. Tu lo sabes? Yes, I know you do. We’ve all been there, but the little Sweetheart simply cannot help himself!
Get the book! The cover, la portada, is luscious! Mind you, it doesn’t hook into the eyes of the story, yet I can recognize a great concept most anywhere. Who can go wrong with a supple corset, partially gaping, with matching thongs, in a near leather look, a shock of unbound hair and tenderly bite-able skin? Ya know? So what it wasn’t Renee, Mayson or Kendra? A provocative picture and title can sell books, before readers recognize, if new, that the writing is even more stimulating. Whatever it takes..huh?
If you care to surf to Amazon when you leave here, you might want to read the review I left earlier today. Words are forever in my mouth, as rarely am I tacit, except for those times I am writing, like now. Like all day. But I adore these times. Now…back to my original thought…hmmm, being that words are in my mouth, they can’t help but drift to my fingertips, too, where I tried NOT to give Fiona’s story away totally.
No, I don’t think I gave it away, but I will admit I LOVED the way Zedde stretched to bring her readers something different. Instead of the delectable heroines knowing who they are and going after what they want, our FINE Mayson, with her Jamaican/Chinese roots, ponytail climb-able, wavers in a precarious balancing act, wanting to carry-on with getting hers (with Kendra) while desiring who she desires. Yet her creed is “I never do straight girls.” Until she does….
Oops! Am I rattlin’ or tellin’ the story?
It was dangerous. Mayson even wondered if Renee would spin off into crazy as a result of the book’s final revelation, yet, like the other forays Fiona Zedde takes into pleasure, the several het love scenes, the straight-girl lovin’, the psycho-heifer routine, the unrequited love—it all works out!
Hey! I’m all for The Out, Babee! A damn good workout! Put out! Get out! Try out! Lock out! Shout out! Tu lo sabes, Corazon! (risas) Te amo, Fiona!