A veteran of many friends’ too-elaborate weddings, THOMAS S. ROCHE hopes the next time he wears a tuxedo, he’ll be accepting his first Oscar or dispatching Russian agents. The most romantic wedding he ever attended was inside a rusted-out gun emplacement overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge. His widely published short stories have appeared in such venues as the Best American Erotica series, the Best New Erotica series and many other best-of anthologies. He can be found at www.thomasroche.com.
SOPHIA VALENTI loves married men—well, one in particular, who she has adored since their wedding twelve years ago. She thinks the best part of being married is living with your best friend—and having someone strong in the house to open jars. Her erotica has appeared in the Harlequin Spice anthology Alison’s Wonderland and the Cleis Press books Afternoon Delight, Playing with Fire and Pleasure Bound. Visit her at sophiavalenti.blogspot.com.
I.K. Velasco is a corporate slave by day and a slave to her passions at night. She tries to come off as hardcore, but is really a big softie. She’s a bit chagrined to admit that she’s had her dream wedding planned in her head since the age of six—raspberry and chocolate-brown color scheme, pink hydrangeas and a gaggle of bridesmaids, oh my!
SASKIA WALKER (www.saskiawalker.co.uk) is an award-winning British author whose short fiction appears in over sixty anthologies. Her erotic novels include Along for the Ride, Double Dare, Reckless, Rampant, Inescapable and The Harlot. Saskia lives in the north of England close to the windswept Yorkshire moors, where she happily spends her days spinning yarns. Saskia once attended a wedding on the arm of a horned demon. Saskia was dressed as a cobweb-covered ghoul. The bride and groom were vampires, and the guests included all manner of paranormal creatures. Even the registrar was wearing witch’s garb. The date? All Hallows’ Eve.
RITA WINCHESTER has multiple hideous bridesmaids dresses and nary a bridal gown in sight. But she never says never and she figures the bridesmaids gowns come in handy for Halloween … or witness protection. Her work has appeared in Mammoth Lesbian Erotica, I is for Indecent, Tasting Her, Pleasure Bound, Never Have the Same Sex Twice and Frenzy, among others. You can drop her a line or a rope at [email protected].
KRISTINA WRIGHT (kristinawright.com) is an award-winning author whose erotica and erotic romance has appeared in over seventy-five anthologies including Bedding Down: A Collection of Winter Erotic, Dirty Girls and the collections Seduction, Liaisons and Sexy Little Numbers. She is also the editor of Fairy Tale Lust: Bedtime Stories for Women. Her writing is inspired by her own happily-ever-after tale: she married her soul mate after a whirlwind six-month long-distance relationship. Twenty years later, she is happy to say she would do it all again.
With This Ring
I Thee Bed
AN
EROTIC
COLLECTION
EDITED BY
ALISON TYLER
Dedicated
To SAM
Two human loves make one divine.
Elizabeth Barrett Browning
introduction
“I do.”
I said those words nearly fifteen years ago, in a sunny backyard ceremony, surrounded by friends and family. I knew Sam was the one for me from the start. In fact, I did the proposing.
“Ever think of getting married?” I asked after our first weekend together.
“Is that an offer?” he countered.
I nodded, he accepted and I bought the dress the next week. The ceremony took place in the spring, in a simple outdoor celebration. I wore white. He wore a suit. The handcuffs came later.
Marriage is revered in our family. My grandparents celebrated sixty-five years together, and my parents have been married more than forty. But we embrace an element of levity, as well. My folks got hitched on April Fool’s Day. The “something blue” I wore was glossy midnight polish on my toenails.
But now I’m focused on my brand-new wedding. And you’re invited. Don’t worry—I’m not cheating. I’m talking about an anthology dedicated to all things bridal—from paper to diamonds.
With This Ring, I Thee Bed features tales of married sex, honeymoon sex, make-up sex, anniversary events and a seven-year itch. Couples experiment with new ideas, and (in some cases) new people. Lovers stoke the embers of passion as they fall ever deeper in love. In at least one instance, a gigolo is involved!
When I invited the authors to submit, I told them to toss the theme in the air like a bouquet—so that we’d all be scattered with petals as well as rice.
With This Ring, I Thee Bed takes the license for marriage from naked nuptials to brides in bondage. Naughty authors are registered at the Department of Kink.
Now, who else is ready to say “I Do”?
XXX,
Alison
P.S. Although a wedding book has been on my mind (and my hard drive) for years, I’d like to thank my best man, Mike Kimera, for giving me the title and escorting me down the aisle.
Now or Forever
Nikki Magennis
We should be halfway to paradise by now.
I look at Susie’s blue kitchen clock. Just past twelve. The flight left three hours ago, heading to the Caribbean with two empty seats in first class.
The washing machine clicks over and I watch the clothes tumble around in the drum, soapy water sloshing from side to side. They’re all too colorful. Bikini, sarong, sundress. Clothes I’m never going to wear. I’m washing them instead of burning them.
Our honeymoon was a present from Charlie’s dad—one of the gifts that can’t be quietly returned. It’s not always possible to apologize. Some things can’t be undone. And “sorry” isn’t always enough.
I get another flash of Charlie’s face. The way his eyes kind of flickered as I ran past him on the path, the way he looked almost as if he was smiling, the way he does when he’s confused. He was a little pale, his freckles darker than usual.
Oh God.
It was all supposed to be a big white dream. We’d be like paper dolls cut out of a magazine. A pretty little church, the perfect lace dress, star-shaped flowers with delicate trails of ivy. Charlie would be nervous and I’d be trying not to laugh. We would kiss in soft focus. Bells would ring.
My phone goes—and it’s playing the fucking Wedding March. My sister must have programmed it as a joke. I pounce on my jacket, scrabble through the pockets and find it, hit the cancel button before I look at the name.
Charlie. Of course it’s Charlie. Did