Those of you who follow me on Facebook (http://facebook.com/SuzanneRockAuthor) and Twitter (http://twitter.com/Suzanne_Rock) know that I’ve been trying to lose weight for a while now. A little over a year ago, I became a stay at home mom and since then I’ve managed to gain twenty-five pounds. Wonderful, eh? I’ve tried all sorts of diets and exercise, but nothing seems to work. The weight is stuck.
I know that I’m not alone in my battle of the bulge. This phenomenon is common amongst writers. It’s so common that there is even a term for it—writer’s butt. Writing is a sedentary, solitary lifestyle, where the only thing you talk to in a twenty-four hour period is a bowl of peanut M&M’s. Let’s face it, on the sexy meter, it’s a big, fat zero.
So to combat my growing waistline, I decided to join a gym. It was a treat for myself once the kids got back to school. I know, I know, some of you are thinking, gym? Good God, why? Well, I’ll tell you why in one word—Zumba.
Zumba is this thing that was wildly popular a year ago. It’s not as popular now, but you can still find classes at a few gyms. Basically, it’s dancing to tribal music. The dance moves are designed to work your entire body and give you a complete workout. I’ve heard about Zumba, but had never tried it. I was told that it was a lot of fun and a great workout. I really wanted to try it. So, I picked a gym with a Friday morning Zumba class and showed up bright and early to give it a try.
Let me pause here and say that I am not coordinated. Not at all. But when the instructor told us to all shake our hips like Shakira, I went after it with a gusto. I got really into it. The music was sexy, and the moves this instructor had us to do were not appropriate for the under eighteen crowd, if you know what I’m saying, lol. Before I knew it, I was shaking my hips and snapping my fingers. I was smexy—yeah!
Then I made the mistake of looking in the mirror. Sure, I kept up with the rest of the class, but I looked…let’s just say I didn’t look that great. While all of the toned, svelte bodies gyrated and pumped to the music, I…jiggled. Not only did I jiggle, but my fair skin had turned tomato-red, and I looked like I was having a brush with death. It was humbling.
To make matters worse, the exercise room had this open window that looked directly into the weight-lifting area. (You know where I’m going with this, don’t you?) All of those hunky weightlifters could see just how much I wobbled across the dance floor. Although no one pointed and laughed, I could feel the gaze of every hot hunk in the room watching me with my hair bun and Jell-O thighs.
I learned a lot about myself in that Zumba class. First, I learned that I was clearly out of shape. Second, I learned that if I didn’t get over my embarrassment, I was never going to get in shape. So, I pulled up my big girl panties and decided not to care. I was having fun, and I was getting my smexy on. So my body isn’t svelte and I wasn’t the prettiest looking girl in the room. Who cares? We are all beautiful and sexy in our own way.
So I went to a second class, and a third. And when all of the women were afraid to stand in front of the window because a hunky tattooed Adonis might see them, I took one for the team. I just don’t care anymore. It’s fun, the instructor knows how to get her smexy on, and the scale is telling me that I’ve already lost five pounds. YAY!
So I’m challenging all of you readers to go out and get your smexy on this coming weekend. You don’t have to take a Zumba class, or even exercise. Just put on something that makes you feel beautiful, do up your hair and makeup and hit the town. We’re all beautiful and sexy beings, jiggly thighs and all.
Tell me what you do when you want to feel sexy in the comment section below, then go out and do it! You might be surprised with the results. 🙂
Oh yeah, and while you’re out, why don’t you pick up my fabulous warlock ménage book, Bonded in Blood? (Come on, you know I had to mention it. ) Here are the details:
Order here: http://www.bookstrand.com/node/839148
See my backlist here: http://suzannerock.com/?page_id=126
Writing Workshops: http://suzannerock.com/?page_id=64
Cyrah has denied her pagan heritage and tried to live a normal life, but visions of two sexy strangers refuse to leave her alone. She senses trouble in their auras, and knows she must try to insert herself into their lives to stop it. Her strong attraction is difficult to control however, and one miscalculation leaves her captured by a powerful Coven and tied to a Master Warlock’s bed.
When Roman recognizes Cyrah as his destined mate, he makes every effort to keep her close. He lusts after the sexy witch, but can’t deny his attraction for his personal guard, Sam. His emotions are torn and Roman is unable to bind himself to either of them. Then he learns that Sam and Cyrah feel the same. Cyrah has an idea of how all three of them can become mates, but doing so would involve extremely kinky sex, denying ancient warlock tradition, and putting all of their lives in grave danger.
Using one of the plants for cover, Cyrah peeked into the side window of Roman’s office. She saw Roman clearly now, and felt the same magnetic pull she had felt earlier when she was trying to pinpoint his location. His aura surrounded him, the soft crimson telling her that his thoughts were centered on more earthly, physical things. It flickered with streaks of green. Calming streaks. She tried to catch a glimpse of the person he was talking to, but the figure remained just out of sight. She could see his aura, however. It was dark green with golden flecks. Roman was talking to a healer, or someone with a calming presence.
She continued to watch Roman as he talked. Her gaze slid down from his firm lips to his broad shoulders and then to his tight, round ass. Desire sparked in her lower abdomen, and her heartbeat quickened. She felt hot despite the central air-conditioning vent right above her.
The attraction she had felt when she first saw him in her vision was nothing like what she felt now. In her dreams he was amazing, but in reality he was breathtaking. Roman Maddock was tall and muscular and took care of his appearance. He had an authoritative presence that spoke to a spot deep inside of her. No woman could resist such commanding masculinity. Roman was definitely drool-worthy.
With each passing moment, the dull ache in her core grew. She wanted to burst into his office, strip off her clothes, and wrap herself around him like a blanket. She could never do that, however. Roman was just a man, and knew nothing of visions and the mating heat of witches and warlocks. She didn’t want to scare him.
Cyrah gasped as the other person in the office moved into her line of vision. It was the one from her dreams, Roman’s companion. She’d know that dirty-blond hair and those angular features anywhere. While Roman was long and lean like a soccer player, his companion was broader, more muscular. She suspected that Roman’s friend had spent a lot of time lifting weights or doing heavy labor to get such a chiseled physique.
Cyrah widened her eyes as she watched them interact. There was an easy familiarity about them, as if they were close friends. Roman said something, and the other man laughed. Then Roman ran his hand down his friend’s arm. The other man closed his eyes. Cyrah saw the man’s aura turn from green to bright crimson. Whatever Roman did made the other man’s thoughts turn more worldly and primal. Cyrah held her breath in anticipation.
Roman slid his hand up and cupped the other man’s cheek. Their gazes met, and Cyrah didn’t need to see their auras to know that they desired each other. Not friends, then, but lovers. She thought the information would squelch the burning heat between her thighs, but it only made it hotter.
Roman leaned forward and captured his lover’s lips. The kiss was gentle and affectionate. Cyrah inched closer to the window and pictured herself pressed in between them. What would they smell like? How would all of those hard muscles feel against her skin? She imagined them kissing her with as much passion as they kissed each other.
Roman swept his tongue into his lover’s mouth. The man eased his hands forward and began to undo Roman’s pants. Their auras turned from crimson to fire-engine red. Cyrah shivered as her need escalated.
The kiss changed from affectionate to desperate. They slanted over each other’s mouths again and again as they tore at their constricting clothes. With their pants removed and shirts unbuttoned, they palmed each other’s chest, shoulders, and ass. They ground their hips together as if they wanted to fuse their bodies into one being. Their auras blended and grew until they filled the entire room, as often happened when people felt strong emotions.
Cyrah knew that she should leave. The lovers obviously wanted some privacy. She tried to stand and walk down the hall, but she couldn’t make her feet move. Her message for them was too important. Besides, she had never seen two men kiss before, and it fascinated her. As she watched, pressure built deep inside her core, and her panties became damp. The urge to participate was overwhelming. What was wrong with her? Never before had she felt such strong desire. A primal longing pulsed through her, making her want to weep with frustration.
Cyrah grabbed her breasts in an attempt to relieve some of the ache. She squeezed and pinched her nipples as she watched the men undress each other but could barely feel her ministrations through her cleaning uniform.
What was it about these men that affected her? They were physically appealing, yes, but she had seen attractive men before. None of them caused such an intense reaction. Was it possible to die of unsatisfied lust?
Cyrah glanced behind her and confirmed that the hall was empty. She positioned herself so that most of her body was shielded by the plant and then undid her pants. She rested her head on the window as she pulled her navy trousers and panties down around her ankles. What she was doing was completely insane, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. The emotions were just too strong.
She spread her knees apart and bit back a groan as cool air kissed her wet folds. Cyrah plunged her finger into her slick channel. Her muscles stretched, but not enough. She needed more, much more. She turned back to the window.
Roman was the first to break the kiss. Both men were breathing heavily as Roman turned his lover around and bent him over the desk. Cyrah moistened her lips as Roman walked around to the other side and grabbed something out of one of the drawers. What was he doing?