Ink marks on empty dreams

I am a footstep on the sands of time, I am an ink mark on an empty paper, without stanzas, without rhymes


Whispers of the soul

Liberty’s Secret (2016) – a musical lesbian movie


A funny musical satire which has two deep themes : mud of politics and how a young and innocent woman can be dragged into it and lesbian love in the middle of the political mood with a very possible happy ending!


liberty and nikki

Liberty Smith (Jaclene Wilk) is the young and innocent daughter of a preacher with a magnificent voice and she looks and sounds as the perfect energizer for the conservative presidential campaign.


Even her name is double edged for she is Liberty in politics and the liberty goes on in everything that happens, especially when Liberty meets Washington insider, Nikki (Cara AnnMarie) and falls in love with her. Someone immortalizes their kiss and they appear all over TV. Now Liberty has to choose between her one true love and her career in politics, although she can have one in music, too.

nikki and liberty liberty's secret


Also, I enjoyed the presidential character, the Republican candidate a stereotypical copy of a fun George Bush.

liberty's secret

The best thing in this movie is the music. Andy Kirshner (writer/director/composer a professor of Music and Art & Design at the University of Michigan) and Debbie Williams have managed to create a beautiful musical with a sensitive story on a solid ground. Enjoyed the hilarious song “Girls Like Boys” – “Girls like picking roses, and boys like punching noses.”


Happy ending!!!

liberty s secret nikky and liberty




Watch it online


Gypsy 2017 – The great Naomi Watts shows many faces and a lesbian love

There are certain actresses that I expect to do what Naomi Watts has done in Gypsy, mainly to play a lesbian love affair or a lesbian character so realistic as she does, for she has “antecedents” – Mulholland Drive (2001)

mullholand drive Naomi Watts

“I asked her if she would diagnose Jean as having a disorder,” Rubin said. “But she said everybody falls on different spectrums of different disorders, and she didn’t think Jean was diagnosable, and I agree. This is not a story about a woman with a mental illness . . . we’re all capable of doing dark or bad things. Most people are not good or bad; they fall in the gray and do bad things. And showing women [on screen] who are always nurturing, good, or likable is not being honest.

“I used to believe that people determined their own lives. We were in control, commanding our futures,

choosing our spouses, picking professions,responsible for the decisions that shape the course of our lives. 

And yet, there is one force more powerful than free will. Our unconscious. Underneath the suits, behind closed doors, we’re all ruled by the same desires. And those desires can be raw and dark and deeply shameful.

The more you watch someone, the more you realize, we are never really who we say we are.

In fact, hidden underneath, there’s always a secret. We might actually be someone else.

The great Naomi Watts is  Jean Holloway, a therapist, mother, and loving wife to her husband, Michael (Billy Crudup) in Gypsy, the series follows as Jean creates the character of Diane, a single journalist whom she inhabits to unethically involve herself in the lives of her patients. Her transformation, the impetus of this unhinged act is a host of repressed sexual and professional yearnings that she indulges (along with much bourbon) as a distinctly troubling type of escapism creates an amazing piece of a character.

Naomi Watts Gypsy 2017

At first, her actions are explicitly tied to one patient: Sam (Karl Glusman), who is obsessed with Sidney (Sophie Cookson), his ex-girlfriend and a local bartender. In an early scene in one of their sessions, he describes being consumed by his desires for Sidney, being unable to think of anything but her and what she makes and made him feel. And what Jean seems to want in creating Diane is to feel that kind of passion for herself, as the day-to-day nuisances of play dates, other school mothers, her oft-rigid colleagues, and domestic duties have become the center of her existence. Her increasing dependence on alcohol is at once an enabling force and a reflection of what she seeks to feel when she begins to follow and flirt with Sidney.


Jean is working to solve the problems of her patients via extreme breaches in trust in an attempt to avoid confronting her own disquiet with the peaceful existence she’s built for herself. Watts, moving and nuanced as much in her silences as her speeches, is careful to not show Jean as completely indifferent to her marital life. She clearly cares about being a mother and a wife but she’s been feeling an impersonality toward her family, as well as her career, that has driven her toward more radical means of feeling noticed and desired. Watts makes the character a study in the neglected id returning to overtake the unending routines of professional and family life — the intimate impulse of wanting to destroy any semblance of personal stability. As such, one could even argue that Gypsy is a kind of horror series without the copious blood and outlandish violence.

The increasing lack of control that Jean feels and her impulsive seeking of satisfaction of any kind never comes through in Taylor-Johnson’s compositions or in Rubin’s dialogue. As such, we never quite get a handle on the pleasure, rush, and instability of what she’s doing, nor do we fully understand how that affects Michael or their daughter.


The danger in remaining professional is that one can also feel at a distance from the work and render one unable to find useful solutions to personal problems. For Jean, this leads to crippling frustration and an overwhelming feeling of uselessness, which pushes her toward the creation of Diane and the relationship she begins to build with Sidney. And by becoming personally involved in her patients’ lives, she denies them a crucial sense of control and freedom to speak without fear of being exploited, a situation that is primed for chaos that never quite came in the first four episodes but looks to be inevitably in the cards.


In essence, the series allows Rubin, Watts, and Taylor-Johnson to consider and criticize their own personal connections to their own work, employment that often requires them to be at a distance from their material to allow for producers and other interests to have their (mostly) appropriate say. And as all three chief creative forces behind Gypsy are women, there is an essential focus on how the simple fact of being a woman can drastically affect how you are criticized and managed by men. It’s an element that should have been pushed further throughout the run of Gypsy, which might have made for a great movie but settles as an engaging, wise series. Nevertheless, in a marketplace short on ambitious shows made by and for women, Gypsy finds fertile ground for an exploration of the chaotic impasse between roiling inner desires and the false yet requisite veneer of stability that society often calls for without knowing the real cost.

A must see Psychothriller with a glimpse of softness :

Sources :

Netflix  &


A kiss doesn’t lie by Robin Alexander


A truly beautiful adventure novel mixed with a sensual love story involving two intelligent and amazing women : Jodi Grant and Dr. Blair Whittington.

robin alexander a kiss doesn't lie

Jodi has a nice life as a real estate agent and a welcomed new romance coming her way when she is notified that her father, who has left her and her mother when she was young, has died. She goes to attend the funeral, just for her mother and to get rid of the last memories she had with him, as he was no role model, but „a thief, liar, and all-around asshole”. He knew nothing of his daughter as his archeological duties kept him on foreign lands and bewildered continents, especially South or Central America, manly Peru. He was searching the big hit, yet he deceived his family, his work and the ancestors, by turning artifacts into stolen goods for his own fortune.

At his funeral, Jodi is kidnapped by strangers that were looking for her father’s treasure. She is taken to the jungle of Peru to some mysterious archeologist whom happens to be a woman her father has deceived,  Dr. Blair Whittington.

Jodi was innocent and now in the arms of this Dr. Dr. Blair Whittington whom surely wanted revenge, yet at first sight, it seems that she understood that Jodi had no idea what this was all about.

nouveau-monde lesbian loverd

Brown eyes regarded her from beneath a black ball cap as Jodi wound up internally for the last tongue-lashing she was ever going to dole out. She planted a hand on her hip. “That’s right, I’m Jodi Grant, only daughter of the late Nicolas Grant, but I did not know him. I have no idea what he was up to when he was killed. I absolutely despise archaeology and don’t give a rat’s fuzzy ass about long dead cultures. If they were anything special, they’d still be around. And if I weren’t surrounded by guns, I’d kick the shit out of you for dragging me into what is so obviously a hellhole. So, Dr. Whittingham, that should answer all the questions you have for me.”

“It’s Dr. Blair Whittington.” She pushed the chair on the opposite of the table with her foot. “Have a seat.”

Ant shoved Jodi toward it where she sat begrudgingly.”

elena undone

Dr. Blair Whittington was a true archaeologist, her mother was famous for discovering a Peruvian treasure and she wanted so much to follow her mother’s steps and put all she had, her heart and her soul into archeology, leaving her love life on hold,  yet has fallen into the wrong hands  of  Dr. Grant, as she was an innocent, a beginner and he took advantage of all these and dragged her name into this muddy business of his, as her partner archeologist, Tad, underlined :

“Your father found and hid artifacts from a culture that has been traced as far back as 750 AD. Instead of turning over the find to the authorities of Peru, he went back to the States and found someone willing to purchase the antiquities illegally. Someone who has enough money and swing to smuggle priceless relics out of the country.”

“I’m a colleague of your mother’s. Her work on Incan culture captivated and inspired me. Carmen Whittington is one of the most respected archaeologists I’ve ever known.”

“She was, yes,” Blair said as the polite smile slipped from her face.

“Has she passed on?” Nicolas asked with great disappointment. “I’ve been out of the country.”

“A year ago. I’ve donated all her writings to the university, so if you need to see her notes, you’ll have to make an inquiry of the dean.”

Nicolas clasped Blair’s arm as she turned to go. “I’m so very sorry for your loss…but actually, it’s you I wanted to talk to. May I have just a few minutes of your time over a cup of coffee?”


Blair had to save her reputation and find dr.Grant’s artifacts, keep everyone alive, as Jason as his wife took care of their safety, yet she has never expected her attraction towards Jodi, as she knew Jodi’s love preferences, as dr. Grant has told Blair. Dr. Grant has left a diary with hidden clues only Jodi could find and describe as a map to follow the goal, the Peruvian artifacts.

In this wild  environment, when water was rare, hotness was all over, bullets and enemies surrounded them, Blair and Jodi fall for one another, against all odds, in the search of the artifacts, Blair not convinced but after a while of Jodi’s innocence, now, fears that she won’t be able to protect Jodi and to solve the whole situation with the local authorities and the enemy who was following them from the shadows as he wanted the artifacts for himself, possibly, dr. Grant’s initial buyer from the States.


Blair leaned her head back and stared up at a full moon that seemed so close she could simply reach out and touch it. Jodi’s proximity drew her thoughts away from their lack of supplies and Jason’s motives. It had been a long time since someone slept next to her, too long to ponder. And frankly, on her list of priorities, it didn’t place, but there she was gazing down at the head on her lap.

Tad had made her sound like a virgin, and she was certainly not…unless the statute of limitations ran out on such a thing. After a few dalliances in college, it was confirmed that she had no desire for men whatsoever. She’d never cared for boys in high school, so it came as no big surprise that the only person who had ever stirred anything within her was a woman with whom she had a brief affair. But that had not compelled her to look further.

Blair had not enjoyed making calls that were never returned. It made her feel weak and vulnerable, and she decided that love and romance were not worth the pursuit. Her mother often quoted the old adage “you just haven’t met the right one.” Blair refused to look or hope. She ignored it all, then it didn’t seem so…important.

Tad’s earlier comment about her and Jodi making a good pair jolted her. She’d mentally agreed before she ever considered what that meant. For all intents and purposes, she had no idea who Jodi Grant really was. She’d spent more time with Nicolas and didn’t know him, either, until he put a figurative knife in her back and had the audacity to die before she could return the favor.

Blair began to catalog everything she knew about Jodi to dispel the mental haze she’d felt since overhearing their conversation. Jodi was…attractive, intelligent, brave, though she didn’t realize it herself. What else? Blair wondered as she looked at the wild mass of dark hair splayed out over her thigh. Feisty, stubborn, distrusting…Blair groaned and looked back up at the moon. She’d just described herself.”


Blair isn’t sure of her own sexuality, as she has never gave it a real thought, as none was on her loving stage until now. But, in the depths of her soul, she knew her attraction to women was real, obvious and incredibly satisfying.


Jodi glanced at Blair’s face as she medicated and cleaned the wound. She grimaced but made no sound. She did whimper slightly when Jodi moved her arm to put on a fresh undershirt. “She’s dressed, Tad. Would you spread out our sleeping bags?”

Tad turned and kissed Blair on top of the head and smiled down at her. “Mom always said a kiss makes it better.” He grinned at Jodi. “I’m sure you’d rather have that kiss come from someone else.” He walked off to spread out the bags, and Jodi swatted him on the leg.

“He’s right,” Blair said groggily with a half-grin.

Jodi glanced over to where Jason was sleeping. Raul was reading the original letters. Jodi leaned in and brushed her lips against Blair’s. The kiss was brief but enough to make Blair open her eyes wide.

“I hope you meant me.” Jodi stood, breaking eye contact with Blair.

“I did,” Blair said barely above a whisper as Jodi pulled her to her feet. Tad joined them and walked Blair over to the bags. He removed her boots as Jodi took off her own overshirt and padded Blair’s shoulder.

“I’ll keep watch,” Tad said. “You two get some rest.”

“That’s really not necessary. What we’ve been watching for has found us.” Jodi touched Tad’s arm. “Sleep if you can. No heroics. They’re armed and we’re not.” Tad nodded reluctantly, and Jodi knew then what he’d been plotting. “I’m not going out without a fight, either. We’ll come up with something.”

They had lain Blair with her injured side near the wall. Jodi fished a clean shirt from her bag and covered Blair’s shoulders with it. She lay next to Blair and put a hand on her hip. “I’m here if you need me,” she said and closed her eyes.

Blair’s response came a few minutes later. “I know.””


Their lovemaking involves passion, danger, foreign lands and a whole lots of edging daring of trust.

 a lesbian kiss doesnt lie

“Blair steeled herself for the shock and stepped out from the shelter. The rain was coming down so hard it stung when it hit her shoulder.

Jodi turned slowly. Her gaze started at Blair’s eyes and roamed over every inch of her body. When she met Blair’s eyes again, she smiled. “Well, it seems I’ve lied.”

“Strike one.” Blair tried to keep the smile from slipping from her face.

“You’re going to need help washing your hair and face. You can barely raise that arm as it is.”

The thought of being naked and so very close to Jodi with her hands on her body nearly killed Blair. She stood stock-still as Jodi massaged her scalp and lathered her hair with the soap. Blair was thankful that her eyes were closed as Jodi lathered her face. If she were to look into those eyes once more, what little control she had would slip away with the rain pelting her body.

“Rinse for a minute. I’ll wash my hair and face, then we’ll do the….rest.”

Blair lifted her face to the sky and let the rain wash away the lather. The pain in her shoulder was muted by the lust she felt at that moment. She’d known arousal but not like this. When she dared to open her eyes, Jodi’s head was tipped back. Her hands worked the soap from her hair, and Blair found herself unable to stop from taking in everything displayed before her.

“You’re beautiful.” The words slipped past Blair’s lips when Jodi looked at her.

“You’re peeking.”

“I’d say I was sorry, but that would be a lie.”

Jodi’s expression was serious. “You’re wrecking me. This is not the time or the place, but I want you.”

Blair went weak at the timbre of her voice and the look in her eye that confirmed the words Jodi was speaking. She inhaled sharply when Jodi walked over and laid her fingers on her shoulder.

“I need to get this off.” Jodi began tugging at the tape. The pain was sharp, and Blair grabbed her waist to steady herself. “I’m so sorry. I know it hurts,” Jodi said softly. “The gauze is sticking.”

Unable to speak, Blair held on as Jodi peeled the gauze from her torn skin and began to soap it. Rain pounded into the gashes and stole her breath away. Jodi washed Blair’s hand and laid it over the wound. “Keep that there and I’ll do the rest,” Jodi’s voice was tremulous as she spoke.

Pain began to recede again as Jodi ran the soap over Blair’s stomach. Her touch burned like fire as she moved them over Blair’s chest, then finally across her breasts. Both women inhaled sharply. Jodi moved around Blair as she washed her ribs and back. Blair marveled that even having her armpits washed was the most sensual thing she’d ever encountered.

Jodi moved in front of her again, her hands never leaving Blair’s body. “If you say stop, I’ll stop.”

Blair shook her head slowly without hesitation. Injury forgotten, she gripped Jodi’s shoulders as she ran the soap and her fingers between her legs. The muscles in Jodi’s shoulders bunched and danced beneath Blair’s fingertips. Their breath came out in gasps. “Blair.” Jodi sounded miserable as her hands moved through the wetness. With a groan, she knelt and washed Blair’s legs and feet.

Jodi stood and took a step back. Her neck, chest, and face were flushed as she began to soap her body. Blair was rooted to the spot, unable to turn away. She watched with pain and envy as Jodi soaped herself, hesitating only slightly before running her hands between her own legs. When she was done, she dropped 

the bar of soap and stared back at Blair with a want so intense Blair felt like it scorched her skin.

Jodi wiped the rain from her face with both hands. When she opened her eyes, she said, “I think you should go dry off. I need to stay out here for a minute or two.”

She was giving Blair an out. It was Blair’s decision alone. Desire so clearly showed on Jodi’s face.

“Come to me,” Blair said only once, and Jodi was there. Jodi’s touch was tender, her kiss bruising and wild. The heat of her body and the rain on Blair’s back was an intoxicating combination. She could not get close enough, her kiss deep enough to satisfy.

Jodi broke the kiss and pressed her face against Blair’s. “This is crazy. What are we doing?”

“Living in the moment or just living.” Blair took Jodi’s hand.


They were dripping wet when Jodi spread the only dry sleeping bag they had out on the ground. Rain splattered against the rocks and bounced into their refuge. Jodi looked at Blair’s shoulder as she sat. “I need to bandage that.”

“Let it breathe.” Blair reached out her hand and Jodi took it, allowed herself to be drawn down. Blair’s deep kiss burned hot. Jodi felt a hand in the center of her chest, urging her onto her back.

“I’m afraid you can’t be the leader tonight,” Jodi said when she broke the kiss. “Tonight, you follow me, and when you’re mended, I’ll follow you.”

“I’ve never been a follower.” Blair bit her lip when Jodi lowered her to the ground.

“Your shoulder isn’t going to allow you to do anything.” Jodi lowered herself onto Blair’s body and kissed her neck, letting her teeth graze across soft skin. “Give yourself to me, Blair, and when the time is right, I’ll give myself to you.” Without giving Blair an opportunity to reply, Jodi covered her mouth with her own. Blair responded to the kiss with equal fervor. Her hand wove into Jodi’s hair and pulled her tighter against her mouth.

Jodi shuddered when she felt Blair’s legs wrap around her own. She’d fantasized and wondered if this moment would ever truly play out. Reality was so much better than the fantasy, but Blair was more of a participant than she had even imagined. Jodi pulled away, eager to feel Blair’s body beneath her mouth. Her lips grazed smooth skin before taking a rigid nipple into her mouth. Blair arched as the fingers of her good hand dug into the skin of Jodi’s back, stoking the fire higher.

Rain pounded all around them, drowning out whispered words, but Jodi could hear Blair’s labored breathing, feel Blair’s chest and stomach heaving against her face. There would be no teasing or delaying of the inevitable. Jodi slid down and buried her face between Blair’s legs, tasting her and thrilling at the feel of her against her tongue. Blair urged her on with a hand wrapped in her hair, but Jodi slowed, determined to enjoy the gift as long as she could stand it. Slow languid strokes weren’t enough. Blair was saying something Jodi couldn’t hear, but her meaning was clear by the way she moved her hips. Jodi answered and felt Blair’s body go rigid. It was over too soon.

The orgasm was intense and for a moment cooled the flame that burned in Blair. She wanted more of Jodi, wanted to be inside of her, taste her, connect. Sex had always satisfied an immediate need, but this—this was something she’d never known. Blair tugged as gently as she could, and Jodi complied, moving up and settling her body against hers. Their mouths met, and at the same time, she felt Jodi’s heat against her. Blair arched her hips, pressing into Jodi as far as their bodies would allow. She gasped against her mouth, and Blair knew she had her.

Jodi met her thrust for thrust, and Blair felt her wetness merge with her own. Jodi struggled to keep her shoulder away from Blair’s injured one. Blair pulled her tighter, the pain an afterthought far behind the need she felt to have Jodi completely. She gritted her teeth as Jodi’s body tensed, held her with her arms and legs as Jodi jerked and shuddered, crying out against her ear. Blair clamped her eyes shut, taking the feelings and the sounds deep into the recesses of her mind. If this was all she was to have, she’d remember it until she drew her last breath.

Jodi went limp and gasped against her ear. Blair held on to her to keep her from moving away. That night, they would sleep entwined. No one would stand watch over them, and if their enemies came, they’d go together just like this.“


When they find the Peruvian artifacts, dr. Grant’s treasure, it’s obvious they will take one clue and go to the authorities who won’t believe them as they were foreigners and Tad was missing. Blair’s brother came to help, as they were a wealthy family, they could afford a big team of lawyers. Yet, the turning point is the fact they will be separated, as Jodi is off charges as she was proven to have been kidnapped in the States and has never traveled outside the US and goes back to the States and Blair had to stay in Peru to prove her innocence and her good faith in discovering the artifacts and clear her name, her mother’s legacy.

And after all this, the pain of separation, the self discovery, the missing and realizing love is more important than anything, they will find the only one road they could walk, the lifetime they could walk together entangled in what a kiss says.

 lesbian kiss

And they wanted to know all about Dr. Whittington, but what Jodi knew about the famous doctor, she kept to herself. She knew the woman who had become some fabled character as a tireless lover who had a birthmark above her left breast. Whose kisses left her breathless. That’s all she thought of when she heard the name Dr. Blair Whittington.

“Ms. Grant, what do you plan to do now?”

A slight smile passed over her face. “I have a brand new pair of snow boots. I’m looking forward to having an opportunity to use them. That’s all I have to say at this time.”

“She cut her hair,” Blair said aloud as she dropped onto the bed. And Jodi had sent a message—she was waiting on her to get home. Nothing had changed. Blair switched off the TV and burrowed down into the bed. She would surrender to the pull of the sleeping pill, and the next day, she would be sharp.


“Blair didn’t object to the plan, though Jodi expected her to. Instead she turned and brushed her lips with a quick kiss and motioned Tad to move on. Blair looked into Jodi’s eyes as Tad started up the stairs. Something in their dark depths confused her, but she had faith. Blair had made a promise in her kiss. She didn’t argue as Blair motioned for her to follow Tad.“


„Jodi smiled and kissed her. The brief soft touching of lips said more to Blair than Jodi could voice. Had Jodi clung to her and kissed her with all the passion Blair had already felt, then she’d know that Jodi was afraid they might not have another opportunity. This simple brush of affection gently whispered, We’ll be fine. “A kiss says a lot, you know.”

Jodi cocked her head. “Yes, I do. I thought I was the only one that believed that way. What did my kiss say to you?”


twomaidens pompeii

Awol – 2017 lesbian movie

The Australian drama „Awol” tells the story of a young woman named Johanna „Joey”, aged around 18 or 19 years old,   played by Lola Kirke. She is at the crossroads of life just after her teenage years, just finishing highschool and in search of direction in her small town just like her grandmother would wish.



A visit to an army recruiting office appears to provide a path, but when she meets and falls in love with  27 years old Rayna played by Breeda Wool, that path diverges in ways that neither woman anticipates. Rayna is married of convenience with a truckdriver and has children,yet her passion for Joey amazes her and makes her want a whole new life with her lover, yet still she doesn`t want to ruin her young lover`s future.

awol rayna-4


The love they live makes them forget parts of their commitments : Rayna`s for her children and Joey`s for the army and they leave the Appalachia small town for Canada.

Loved the rural theme and how souls are divided in between earth, poverty, love and guilt of social commitment.

joey and rayna awol

A new breath on the lesbian movie small and  big screens. How will it end? Just watch it !

Awool - Wool-and-Kirke


AWOL — which has been honored by the Kansas City LGBT Film Festival, qFLIX Philadelphia, and the North Carolina Gay & Lesbian Film Festival — got its start as a short film at Sundance in 2011. At a Q&A after the feature-length film’s world premiere at the Tribeca this spring, Deb Shoval noted that AWOL, which is an indulgent yet brief 80 minutes, took an arduous four years to make.

awol 2017

The movie was directed by Deb Shoval, making her feature directorial debut by adapting her own short film of the same name. The screenplay was written by  and Deb Shoval.

Trailer :

Sources :


Spring fire by Vin Packer

“Spring fire“ is the first lesbian paperback novel that first appeared in 1952 and sold an amazing 1.5 million copies. It launched the genre of lesbian novels and the career of Vin Packer, pseudonym for prolific author Marijane Meaker.

Being the first lesbian novel pulp fiction of the genre, it made me kind of sad that the author couldn’t actually choose the destiny of the characters and that was also forced to put two very beautiful and almost naked women on the cover as it would sell and also, no happy ending, do not promote lesbianism and one of them should decide she is no lesbian and the other is supposed to be sick or crazy.

In the new introduction of the book, the author remembers how this book was published and which conditions she was asked by the publisher :

“You might have a good story there“, Dick said, “but you`d have to do two things. The girls would have to be in college, not boarding school. And, you cannot make homosexuality attractive. No happy ending“

“In other words, my heroine has to decide she’s really not queer“

“That’s it. And the one she’s involved with is sick or crazy.“

And the title is chosen to create confusion and sell better.

“I want to call it Spring Fire, Dick said.

What? What does that even mean?

It means there’s a big seller by James Michener called The Fires Of Spring, and we might pick up a few readers who confuse the titles.“


“Spring fire“ is the typical sorority love story, but this time between two girls : Susan Mitchel (“Mitch“), the butch style freshman, and Leda Taylor , the queen of Tri Ep sorority. They are supposed to date fraternity guys and Leda does date Jake.

Mitch is accepted by the sorority only because her father is rich and she will bring the sorority sisters fame and the so much desired silvery, yet in Leda’s eyes there is so much more, and it’s actually Leda who corrupts Mitch and the foolish girl falls in love with her, yet Leda cannot accept the term nor the life as a lesbian couple.

“Don’t,” Leda said, her arm catching the girl’s waist. Mitch turned on her side, facing Leda, feeling the hand rub her back. It was quiet and warm. Leda moved her hand forward and ran her fingers lightly over the buttons on Mitch’s pajama top. Then, gently, she slipped the round, plastic buttons from their loops, leaving the coat open. Almost as if Mitch knew what would follow, she held the top of the sheet back while Leda moved down and lightly kissed Mitch’s breasts. A soft sigh broke free from Mitch’s throat and evolved into a plaintive cry. Leda pulled herself up and her lips found Mitch’s and crushed them, burning and moist.

“Mitch,” Leda whispered, and they held each other fast and hard. “Mitch.”


Leda was not a man, and yet, when she had awakened her, Mitch turned to her and they were not friends then, but lovers. Mitch became separate as a person at last. She was not separate from Leda, but individual and one. She was wanted and she wanted, and it was not a want striped with fear and hurt It was a fragile want to be nurtured and cared for, as Leda had then in bed.

“I never kissed a girl,” Leda had said afterward. “I’m sorry I did it to you, kid.”

There was something wrong and ill in the two of them then like that, Mitch knew, but what? When she was a child, near the dam where she had gone with her father, on the worn lead pipe there were words written and she had said, “What do they mean?” They were bad words, he explained, and there was that about his explanation that made her feel guilty, as though she had taken the white chalk and put the words there. Leda was sorry, so she knew what was wrong.

 Like you’ve been doing, Mitch. I couldn’t love you if you were a Lesbian.”

“I’m not,” Mitch said, wondering what the word meant “I’m not. I—I just haven’t met a man yet who makes me feel the way you do.”

“Maybe you don’t give them a chance,” Leda answered. “Come on now. Let’s go to bed. God, it’s three-thirty.”

They tiptoed up the back steps and down the quiet, dimly lighted hall to their room. Leda pulled the covers back and fell into her bed. She murmured a tired good night, and her eyes closed and her breathing came heavily. Mitch did not sleep. She lay tossing about on her bed across from Leda, her mind running through the incidents of the evening to review them and examine them. There was only a fragmentary edge left to the sensuous memory of her loving Leda, and looming now in a sick foreground there was this word.

Slowly Mitch got up and went to the bookshelf, taking from it the blue book, and leafing through it, holding it near the flash that Leda had left on the desk.

Les’bian (lezTrian) adj. 1. Of or pertaining to Lesbos (now Mytilene), one of the Aegean Islands. 2. Erotic;—in allusion to the reputed sensuality of the people of Lesbos.

Mitch closed the book and stood staring at the bare light of the street lamp in front of Epsilon Epsilon Epsilon. She could hear Leda’s breath coming slower now and more evenly, in deep sleep, and the dictionary had told her nothing.

The female homosexual, the Lesbian, often preys on girls who are not true homosexuals. Such girls may enjoy men, and be capable of normal heterosexual life if they do not become involved with a genuine Lesbian type, whose technique is often more skillful than that of many of her young men suitors.”

Men come first with me.

Maybe it was natural.

“A normal man finds sex with this type of woman extremely difficult if not impossible.”

I can’t.

No, I just can’t!

“Many times, under the proper circumstances, a female homosexual may learn to control, if not eliminate, her active homosexual tendencies once she is removed from an environment where the temptation is great In the case of…”“


Mitch has encounters with Jake’s fraternity brother Bud, yet she doesn’t go further with him and she has an incident, because the big guy feels hurt in his ego by her rejection and creates a whole mess and a little scandal to force Mitch to at least date him, yet Mitch loves Leda, declares it to her and even writes her a letter that will be her doom.

Dear Leda,

This letter is for you alone. Please tear it up when you are through.

More than anything else I want you to understand what I’m going to say here, and why I’m saying it. I want to leave the sorority and become an independent.

Maybe it’ll be the best thing for me, and maybe it’ll be just another defeat, but I have to do it. Leda, darling, you know that I love you. You know it, even though I haven’t shown it in the past few days. I’ve been worried and afraid, and now I know for sure what’s wrong with me. I suppose I should go to a doctor, but I don’t have the nerve, and I’m going to try to help myself as best I can.

Lesbian is an ugly word and I hate it. But that’s what I am, Leda, and my feelings toward you are homosexual. I had no business to ask you to stop seeing Jake, to try to turn you into what I am, but please believe me, I didn’t know myself what I was doing. I guess I’m young and stupid and naive about life, and I know that you warned me about the direction my life was taking when you told me to get to know men. I tried, Leda. But it was awful. Even Charlie knows what I am now. I think that if I go to an independent house, away from you, the only person I love, I’ll be able to forget some of the temptation. If I stay in the sorority, I’ll only make you unhappy and hurt you. I love you too much to do that

Please announce that I am leaving during the chapter meeting tonight Don’t tell them why, please, because I want to straighten myself out and I don’t want people to know. Tell them that I thank them for all they’ve done, but that I’d rather live somewhere else because I don’t fit in here.

I know how you’ll feel about me after reading this. I’ll try to stay out of your way. Tonight I am going to eat dinner downtown, and then during chapter meeting I’ll pack most of my things and move to the hotel until I get a room at the dorm. Robin Maurer is going to help me.

There’s nothing else to say but good-by, I’m sorry, and I do love you, Leda.



She will meet other great guys that are not fraternity affiliates, Charlie and Lucifer, yet she cannot physically nor mentally love them, she understands her attraction for women and her love for Leda. Their lovemaking, their jealousy are normal states of mind and couple, yet back then they seemed surreal.

Leda continues a loveless life dating sorority guy until the accident where she’s badly injured and in that trauma she speaks words she shouldn’t have and her sorority sisters understand that she is the one that corrupted Mitch into lesbianism, as they couldn’t conceive the fact that it can be consented and,  as they have caught Mitch and Leda together and Mitch was the attacker and Leda was considered the victim as she betrayed Mitch, by showing everyone Mitch’s love letter to her.

mitch and ledajpg

“”Maybe I’m trying to prove something to myself. Part of me is trying to say that I’m not what I am. That’s the part of me that everyone knows—the alluring Leda, the queen, Jan’s daughter, an apple never falls far from the tree. Out with Jake every damn day to keep myself away from what I really am. Want to know what sex with him is like? It’s like dry bread, that’s what it’s like. Like dry bread!”

Leda got up from the bed and reached for her cigarettes on the desk. She felt relieved, cleansed, as though her mind had been emptied and she was free. She walked over to the suitcase on Mitch’s bed and picked up the clothing, taking it in her arms to the drawer. “You want this all put back, don’t you?” she said to Mitch. “You won’t leave me?”

“No,” Mitch said. “I’m going. Robin arranged everything, and—oh, Leda!” They stood in the center of the room holding one another, their lips fastened hard, their arms strong around each other. Leda’s hand reached for the buttons on Mitch’s blouse.

“Just stand still,” she said. “Just let me take everything off and look at you. I want to look at you.”

The skirt fell to the floor, and the blouse. Mitch stepped out of her shoes and stood before Leda.

“I want to love you,” Leda said.

Her hands stroked Mitch’s body gently. She leaned over to kiss her lips and her forehead and the closed eyelids. She said her name and held her, feeling the fast beat in her pulse and knowing that she had almost lost her.

The blood beat furiously in Mitch’s throat and she could feel a mounting strength in her legs and arms. With the arrogance of a master, Mitch’s nails dug into Leda’s flesh as she began to pull the sweater and the thin blouse from her shoulders.

Leda’s gasp was one of pleasure and desire and it moved Mitch to more violence, pinning Leda’s wrists behind her back and jerking at her skirt.

Neither of them heard the door open.


Marsha leaned in the window. Leda’s lips were parted, and the blood had run down by her nose. Her eyes were closed. She kept mumbling. They were able to make the mumbling out gradually as it became clearer. “Mitch,” she was saying. “Mitch, honey. Oh, God, Mitch, honey, what did I do to you?”

“She feels bad about Susan Mitchell,” Kitten said.

They listened to Leda as she said more. “I want you, Mitch. Kiss me! It’s going to be all right again. God, Mitch, love me.”

Marsha and Kitten looked at each other with horror-stricken faces.

Kitten said, “Did you hear what I heard?” and the mumbling kept on.


Now, she’s considered sick and crazy and Mitch needs to heal and gets out of the sorority with Robin’s help, her new independent bedroom colleague.

In the end, the whole love story was a mistake and Mitch realizes she has never loved Leda, just as the publisher has asked.


“ “You’re right,” Dr. Peters agreed. “It’s a big job, too. I don’t know, Ruth. Today I wondered if all our youth hadn’t suddenly turned shallow and callous—after the girls left the hospital and I watched them walk away laughing and chatting like magpies. I wondered where the dignity of youth was nowadays. Well, at any rate, it looks like Susan will have a chance. Leda is another matter. She wants to see Susan—and that’s what I came over about. I’d like to arrange a meeting between the two of them tonight.”

“Is that wise, Ted?”

“I’ve talked to Susan, and I think I know her well enough now to be sure that it’ll be very wise in her case. It’s cruel to ask her to witness the fallen Leda, and yet, perhaps it’s the only way to prove to her once and for all how very sick Leda is and was. The mental sickness is becoming more pronounced than the physical. That wreck didn’t really injure Leda. It awoke her. The neuroses that was growing in her subconscious mind suddenly came to grips with the conscious mind at the time of the wreck. The impact of that meeting is what she can’t bridge. She knows her two selves now, and she can’t assimilate them. It’s very serious, Ruth, and I’m counting on her seeing Susan to help.”

The phone was on the desk, and Dean Paterson reached for it, hesitating a moment before she remembered the number of the dorm where Susan Mitchell was living.

* * *

Mitch finished hanging up the last dress and turned to look at the room in Main Dorm where she had moved. The boxes were empty, and the suitcase had been shoved under the bed by the wall. Robin sat limp in the chair near the desk, her short legs relaxed in front of her, her arms hanging down at the side. “Finally!” she sighed. “I thought we’d never finish.”

“You were wonderful to help, Robin.” “I’d help anyone out of that kind of hell. You should have done it months ago.”

“I guess so,” Mitch agreed. She sat on the bed and flicked the radio on, waiting for it to warm up.

“You know,” Robin said, “Monday night after you didn’t show up here, I thought you’d weakened and changed your mind.”

Mitch got a station that was playing waltz music. She fixed the tone so it was not too loud, and didn’t answer Robin. The Dean had warned her that it would be hard. People would want to know why she had moved out of the sorority.

“Anything new on Leda?”

The question jarred Mitch. She had heard from Dr. Peters that Leda had called for her at the wreck, that she had said all those things about her, crying out her love before she came to in the hospital. Half of Mitch remembered Leda with the raven-colored hair and the keen, delicate hands, the jade eyes and the soft words, but even in that half there was a tinge of bitter irony in Mitch’s memory, flowing into the other half of the remembered Leda. The half that had betrayed her.

“I know you must be worried,” Robin continued. “I never trusted her, myself. There was something about her. But I know you like her.”

“You have to know her,” Mitch said, hoping the dull edge on her words was not obvious to Robin.

“She knew that if it had been any other way—if Leda Taylor could have been helped, and could have at that moment walked there too and known the peace in the twilight and the first hints of frost on the grass and bushes surrounding Cranston—Mitch would have wanted that. Because it was true what she had told Leda yesterday. She didn’t hate her. She didn’t hate her at all, and she knew then that she had never really loved her.

The End“

vintage lesbians


And the whole picture of the Era :

In the early 1950s new subgenres emerged—science fiction, lesbian fiction, juvenile delinquent and “sleaze”, for instance—that would tantalize readers with gritty, realistic and lurid stories never seen before. Publishers had come to realize that sex sells. In a competitive frenzy for readers, they tossed away their staid and straightforward cover images for alluring covers that frequently featured a sexy woman in some form of undress, along with a suggestive tag line that promised stories of sex and violence within the covers. Before long, books with sensational covers had completely taken over the paperback racks and cash registers. To this day, the cover art of these vintage paperback books are just as sought after as the books themselves were sixty years ago.

With the birth of the lesbian-themed pulp novel, women who loved women would finally see themselves—their experiences and their lives—represented within the pages of a book. They finally had a literature they could call their own. Of course, that’s not what the publishers of the day intended – these books were written primarily for men… indeed shamelessly packaged and published to titillate the male reading public.

Many of the books were written by men using female pseudonyms and were illustrated by cover artists who never read the content between the covers. However, a good percentage (primarily titles from Fawcett’s Gold Medal Books imprint) were written by women, most of whom were lesbians themselves. For lesbians across the country, especially those living isolated lives in small towns, these books provided a sense of community they never knew existed… a connection to women who experienced the same longings, feelings and fears as they did—the powerful knowledge that they were not alone.


“Focul de primăvară” este primul roman tipărit de lesbiene care a apărut pentru prima dată în 1952 și a vândut un uimitor 1,5 milioane de exemplare. A lansat genul de romane lesbiene și cariera lui Vin Packer, pseudonim pentru prolificul autor Marijane Meaker.

Fiind prima ficțiune de gen pentru genul de lesbiene, mi-a fost cam trist faptul că autorul nu a putut să aleagă destinul personajelor și că a fost forțat să pună pe copertă două femei foarte frumoase și aproape goale Vinde și, de asemenea, nici un sfârșit fericit, nu promovează lesbianismul și unul dintre ei ar trebui să decidă că nu este lesbiană, iar cealaltă ar trebui să fie bolnavă sau nebună.

În noua introducere a cărții, autorul își amintește cum a fost publicată această carte și în ce condiții ea a fost solicitată de către editor:

Mitch se întâlnește cu fratele fraternității Bud al lui Jake, totuși nu merge mai departe cu el și are un incident, pentru că tipul cel mare se simte rănit în ego-ul său prin respingerea ei și creează o mizerie întreagă și un mic scandal pentru a forța pe Mitch să Cel puțin să-l întâlnească, dar Mitch îl iubește pe Leda, o declară la ea și chiar îi scrie o scrisoare care va fi disprețul ei.

Se va întâlni cu alți tipi grozavi care nu sunt afiliați ai fraternității, Charlie și Lucifer, dar nu le poate iubi fizic și mental, înțelege atracția pentru femei și dragostea ei pentru Leda. Iubirea lor, gelozia lor sunt stări normale ale minții și cuplului, dar de atunci păreau suprarealiste.

Leda continuă o viață fără iubire in care se întâlnește cu tipul de sororitate până la accidentul în care este rănită grav, iar în trauma respectivă vorbește cuvinte pe care ea nu ar trebui să le spună și surorile ei de sororire înțeleg că ea este cea care a corupt-o pe Mitch în lesbianism, iar faptul că  poate fi iubire consimțită și că le-au prins-o pe Mitch și Leda împreună, iar Mitch a fost atacatorul, iar Leda a fost considerată victima atunci când a trădat-o pe Mitch, arătându-i fiecărei scrisori de dragoste lui Mitch.

Marsha se aplecă pe fereastră. Buzele Leda erau despărțite și sângele îi fugise de nas. Ochii ei erau închise. Continuă să mormăie. Ei au reușit să facă mișcarea treptat, pe măsură ce devine mai clară. – Mitch, spunea ea. – Mitch, dragă … Oh, Doamne, Mitch, dragă, ce ți-am făcut?

– Se simte rău în legătură cu Susan Mitchell, spuse Kitten.

Ele au ascultat-o ​​pe Leda, când a spus mai mult. “Te vreau, Mitch, sărută-mă, va fi din nou în regulă, Dumnezeule, Mitch, iubește- mă”.

Marsha și Kitten se priveau una pe celălaltă cu chipuri groaznice.

Kitten spuse: – Ai auzit ce am auzit? Și mormăitul a continuat

Acum, ea este considerată bolnavă și nebună și Mitch trebuie să se vindece și să iasă din sororitate cu ajutorul lui Robin, noua sa colegă din dormitoroarele independente.

În cele din urmă, întreaga poveste de dragoste a fost o greșeală și Mitch realizează că nu a iubit-o niciodată pe Leda, așa cum a cerut editorul.

She said, she said! – Passionate short lesbian movie with Marisa Tomei & Elodie Bouchez

Who would of thought :  Marisa Tomei in a lesbian short film!!! Stunning, sexy, funny and so very beautiful. Together with Elodie Bouchez they are one amazingly refined lesbian couple on the edge of divorce.

marishka and eloise marisa tomei and elodie bouchez she said she said

I loved each sensual look, every romantic scene and the attraction between      Marishka (Marisa Tomei) and Eloise (Elodie Bouchez) when they meet at the mediator.

An enchanting short film that speaks of lesbian love, divorce, rejoin and how attractive, soft, sweet and sensual it can be a woman loving another woman and also, how funny it is to think on how a divorce should feel and how they must split things and how each personal thing is a strong memory of their love and how it brings all those memories back all together and reminds them of their love and their passion and the truth of their relationship.

marisa tomei she said she said

Sexy, passionate,classy  and funny.

Enjoy She said, she said!

Other cast : Aubrey Plaza (the hot dog walker) and David Wain (the mediator)


Cine s-ar fi gândit: Marisa Tomei într-un scurtmetraj lesbian! Uimitoare, sexy, amuzante și foarte frumose. Împreună cu Elodie Bouchez, ele sunt un cuplu de lesbiene rafinate care se iubesc, dar se gasesc la marginea divorțului.

Mi-a plăcut fiecare aspect senzual, fiecare scenă romantică și atracția dintre Marishka (Marisa Tomei) și Eloise (Elodie Bouchez) când se întâlnesc la mediator.

marisa tomei she said she said3
Un film scurt incantator care vorbeste despre dragoste lesbiana, divorț, regăsire și cât de atractive, emoționant, dulce și senzuală poate fi relația dintr-o femeie care iubeste o alta femeie și cât de amuzant este sa te gandesti la modul in care un divorț ar trebui sa simta si cum trebuie să se imparta lucrurile și modul în care fiecare lucru personal este o amintire puternică a dragostei lor și cum toate aceste amintiri le readuc înapoi împreună și le amintește de iubirea lor și de pasiunea lor și de adevărul relației lor.
Sexy, pasionat, stilat și amuzant.
Bucură-te de ˝She said, she said!˝

marisa tomei`s hands she said she said


¿Quién lo pensaría: Marisa Tomei en un cortometraje lesbiano !!! Impresionante, sexy, divertido y muy hermosa. Junto con Elodie Bouchez son una pareja lesbiana increíblemente refinada en el borde del divorcio.

marisa tomei`s hands she said she said
Amaba cada mirada sensual, cada escena romántica y la atracción entre Marishka (Marisa Tomei) y Eloise (Elodie Bouchez) cuando se encuentran con el mediador.

Un encantador cortometraje que habla del amor lesbiano, divorcio, reencuentro y lo atractivo, suave, dulce y sensual que puede ser la relaccion entre una mujer que ama a otra mujer y también, lo gracioso que es pensar en cómo debe sentirse el divorcio y cómo deben dividirse las cosas y cómo cada cosa personal es un fuerte recuerdo de su amor y cómo todos esos recuerdos los traen de nuevo juntas y les recuerda de su amor y su pasión y la verdad de su relación.

marishka and eloise touch leg she said she said

Atractivo, apasionado, con clase y divertido.

Disfruta ˝She said, she said˝!


Cornetto Cupidity Love Stories – 40 Love – Debbie and Maria

It’s been a long time since I wanted to see a lesbian love movie themed on a tennis player as main character.Sports and athletes have always had something special about them, a talent, a charisma and some of them are treated as VIP’s, because they are brought on the edge of success their talents, but very often have a bad character and a weak personality, as vicious. It isn’t the case.

maria cfernandez cornetto

It is intriguing to view a movie about 2 women : Maria,  a very  talented and very beautiful  tennis player with diva allure and a very strong will and Debbie, a lines woman with average looks , without anything visible special, but her beautiful soul, and who is surely captivated by the famous tennis player, after an unpleasant moment. It is a very beautiful love story as we see the fame, fortune, talent and beauty surrender to love.

debbie cornetto


Here’s the Cornetto Cupidity Love Stories – 40 Love short film :


De mult timp mi am dorit sa vad un film despre o iubire lesbi in care personajul principal sa fie o jucatoare de tenis. Sportul si atletii, in general, au ceva special, talent, carisma si unii dintre ei si ele sunt tratati ca VIP-uri, deoarece au reusit sa si dezvolte talentul si sa evolueze in asa fel incat sa ajunga pe culmile succesului, dar de cele mai multe ori au un caracter urat sau o personalitate slaba, in sensul de vicioasa. Dar acesta nu este cazul.

cornetto40love_ maria and debbie

Este intrigant sa vezi un film despre doua femei : Maria, o foarte talentata si foarte frumoasa jucatoare de tenis cu alura de diva si cu o determinare deosebita si  Debbie, un arbitru de linie cu o infatisare obisnuita, fara nimic vizibil special, inafara de frumusetea sufletului, si care este captivata de faimoasa jucatoare de tenis, dupa un eveniment nefericit. Este o foarte frumoasa poveste de dragoste, deoarece vedem cum faima, bogatia si frumusetea se predau iubirii.

debbie and maria cornetto hold hands

Aici puteti vedea filmul scurt  – Cornetto Cupidity Love Stories – 40 Love:

Love’s Harvest by Peggy J. Hering

peggy j herring love's harvest

Twilight in Burgundy cast an almost mystic spell over the chateau as they innocently slept. Morning was sure to arrive much too soon.

“Love’s harvest” it’s such a delight to read, it takes us to the beautiful French wine lands of Burgundy at the Jeton Winery and chateau and envelopes a beautiful romance between Nicole Jeton and Camille Cartier, such different characters, yet so alike at heart trying to keep up the familly name and fame through hard work at the winery and leaving herself no time, but to take care of her sick father and paying debts for her depravate brother.


“You make me feel so different,” Nicole said afterward.

“As if nothing else matters as long as I have you.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Bad?” Nicole said. “No, not at all. Just different.”

Camille raised herself up, arms outstretched on either side of Nicole’s body. “I’m in love with you,” Camille said.

Nicole was quiet, but put her arms around her neck and hugged her. Camil e took the silence to mean that Nicole, in return, was not in love with her. She accepted that easily enough, rationalizing that it was much too soon. They had only known each other a few weeks.

Peggy J. Hering takes us easily on the vaste fields of Burgundy at the beautiful Jeton estate that owns a winery for more family generations, yet with a secret to hide, where we find Nicole Jeton caring for the winery and allowing little time for herself and her desires.


I enjoyed their looks too, a blonde and a brunette together always spices things up.

 erin-and-ericas-fantasy winery wedding

I find the landscape truly amazing and the integration of the characters into it is quie without a trace, like a slow flow. Nicole’s character reveals strength of will built from the need to prove the world that the Jetons are not known only for the murder that happened a long time ago, nor for the ghost of Eva, murdered by her brother, that keeps hunting the chateau and Nicole by keeping away the dangers.

Camille Cartier is a very down to earth individual, a woman who knows her own will and desires, lives in Paris and works as an editor for a firm, she gets to know Nicole at one of her cousin’s Marguerite’s parties and finds her incredibly attractive and somwhow wants to follow her wherever she may go.


“It’s not always like this for me,” Nicole whispered. She had such emotion in her voice that Camille wasn’t sure if she would cry or not. “I feel so different with you. So different.”

She kissed Camille slowly, letting the softness of their lips arouse them both all over again.

Camille squirmed delightedly under her, holding Nicole’s face in her hands and loving those blue eyes that seemed to come to life so easily.


Afterward, Nicole held her and they drifted to sleep, entwined in each other’s arms.

Camille snuggled and nuzzled into the soft curve of her neck and shoulder, feeling safe and wanted. They didn’t stir for hours.


Nicole needs to fight with the ghosts of her past, present and future as she want Cammile and seduces her, somehow everything comes without warning at an unnapropriate moment in her life as her father is dying, the winery can be lost because of her brother, who wants to take all the family money for himself and with his new lover to go and create a new winery in California, yet somehow Nicole got used to her brother’s habbits to disappear for few years to spend money and then return and ask for more in the name of the first male born.

Antoine is Nicole’s best friend and cellar master of the Jeton winery and Lalo’s (Nicole’s brother) former lover remained at the chateau and winery to help out and somehow integrate and find a familly in Nicole.

ped-old-zin winery


Nicole is stubborn and unselfish and only thinks of the family’s well care, yet her true love seems to be slipping through her fingers, because she somehow doesn’t want to involve Cammile in her familly’s mess. Yet, Cammile knows she’s in love with Nicole from their very first night together and Nicole also knows from Cammile’s very first touch that her touch means love and wanting and Cammile is ready to help Nicole in whatever case is necessary. The  two women have their upp’s and down’s while Antoine helps them to get together and solve things out.


“Camille,” came that wonderful voice that could make her weak all over. It was Nicole, sounding small and upset. “Forgive me for interrupting your party, but I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Camille felt the warmth rush through her as the words registered quickly. She sank even farther into the fur, oblivious to its effect on her allergies. “Nicole,” she said.

“I just wanted to hear your voice again. Have I made a terrible mess of things? Don’t answer,” Nicole said quickly. “I know I have.”

Thoughts of the gypsy came to Camille, and the insistent warning of prevailing evil surrounding them made her snap to attention.

“You’re in danger, Nicole. I know it. I can feel it.” She didn’t have the nerve to say a gypsy had told her so.

“Danger? Don’t be silly. Everything is fine here. That woman in your apartment earlier,” Nicole said sheepishly, “who was she?”

Camille listened closely, but didn’t quite connect with the question for a moment. She was still in shock at hearing from Nicole again so soon. Camille smiled as she remembered. Nicole’s confession of being so possessive.

Could she be jealous? Camille mused. How wonderfully juvenile. “That was Monique.” The words my sister would not pass through her lips. Not yet anyway. Nicole had to make the next move. “Monique and I came to the party together.”

“I see,” Nicole said crisply. “How long have you known her?”

“All my life. We’re very close.” It was not like Camille to play these adolescent games, but she felt as though Nicole had brought it all on herself. As she stood there among the various assortment of raincoats and furs, the word evil again stayed fresh in her mind, amplifying itself as she touched the door. Nicole was in danger. Evil could mean so many things. It could even be Eva, she thought suddenly. Aren’t ghosts and spirits evil?

“How is Eva?” Camille asked urgently.

“Eva is fine. It’s quiet here now. She’s restless when Lalo is around, so he stays at the

winery with his new friend.”

french winery ghost

Maybe Lalo was the evil the gypsy had referred to, Camille reasoned. She claimed to have seen a tall, handsome man in the crystal ball. Camille rolled her eyes. Am I really believing this? she wondered, but somehow it just seemed silly to take chances.

“You’re in danger, Nicole. I’ll be out of town tomorrow, but I’l call you. Please be careful.”

“Where are you going?” Nicole demanded. “Camil e,” she said desperately, “please. Who is this Monique person? Are you going away with her?”

Camille felt lightheaded as she listened. The desperation in Nicole’s voice registered

plainly and gave her hope.

In the end, I enjoyed that what happened between Eva and her brother Phillipe has been repeated trhough the generations as inherited by Nicole and Lalo, when he tried to strangle his sister because he couldn’t overcame her talent for wine nor for her strength to keep up the familly name.


“Eva comes to me often,” she whispered. “She’s there in the chateau, walking the halls at night. She was there when I showed you my grandfather’s portrait.”

Camille trembled in her arms, and Nicole pulled a blanket up over them.

“She likes you. Don’t be afraid.” Nicole tightened her arms around her. “After my grandfather strangled her, he was never the same. It haunted him the rest of his life and he never quite recovered from it.”

“Did you ever hear an explanation about why he killed her?”

“Several. The most commonly discussed has been

jealousy,” Nicole said. “Philippe was jealous of Eva’s ability to run things without him. He would disappear for weeks at a time. No one knew where he was. There were rumors of a mistress and then rumors of foreign exports, but he never confirmed anything. Eva took care of the family business whenever he was gone. There was no one else able to do those things then. Their parents were old, and there were other children who were much younger.” Nicole’s voice was soft but steady. “One night Philippe returned after having been gone for a month. He rode up on his horse and stormed the stairs of the chateau to the second floor. He and Eva had a terrible quarrel. When the servants found them Philippe still had his hands clamped around her throat. She was dead.”

Camille buried herself deeper into Nicole’s arms. “What happened to him? Did he go to jail?”

“Nothing happened to him. The family kept it a secret for years. With enough money you can buy silence.” Nicole kissed the top of Camille’s head again and rubbed her cheek against her hair. “Lalo, my brother, always wanted to be like him,” Nicole continued softly.

“He’s wanted that more than anything. When he was younger Lalo would stare at the portrait for hours. He combed his hair the same way. Often wore similar clothes. He was so proud of the resemblance between them. He sees Philippe as this masculine hero who built the family fortune from nothing. My grandfather grieved for his sister for many years.

They apparently had been very close when they were younger. Philippe finally married and became the man my father idolized and talked about. The Philippe Jeton the villageremembers wasn’t a murderer. He was a hero. And that’s the man Lalo wants to be like.

The hero.” Nicole hugged her again and laughed. “But Eva’s spirit never let any of us forget what really happened that night. Lalo has trouble accepting Eva’s place in our family’s history. I always remind him that there would be no Jeton Vineyards if Eva hadn’t kept things going when Philippe would disappear for weeks at a time. My father eventually came to realize that I was right. Eva belongs there in the chateau as much as any of us do. Even now.”

Iluzia ursuleţului de pluş

Se poate să nu ştim că există până când nu îi vedem rezultatul.

„În relaţiile de cuplu, oamenii care încearcă să îşi controleze partenerul au creat persoana închipuită despre care cred că este partenerul lor. Să analizăm felul în care cel care se preface creează persoana închipuită, o vede şi interacţionează cu ea. Dacă înţelegem ce se petrece atunci când cineva îl inventează pe celălalt în cadrul unei relaţii personale, vom putea să ne protejăm mai bine de încercările oricui de a ne controla şi vom înţelege mai bine ce înseamnă controlul, chiar şi atunci când presupune grupuri mari de oameni.


Următoarea piesă de teatru, „Iluzia ursuleţului de pluş”, ne arată cum începe cineva să inventeze o persoană închipuită şi ce se întâmplă în relaţii atunci când o face. Ursuleţul începe ca un prieten închipuit, un ursuleţ imaginar şi mai târziu devine personajul principal.


Un ursuleţ de pluş imaginar oferă cel mai bun exemplu despre felul în care cel care se preface creează şi ancorează în cineva o persoană închipuită şi arată cât de diferită este o persoană închipuită de una autentică. Ursuleţul de pluş este neanimat, adică este tăcut şi complet supus. Acest lucru reprezintă felul în care se aşteaptă cel care se preface să fie persoana autentică, începând din copilărie, cel care se preface creează inconştient persoana închipuită aşa cum un copil creează un prieten imaginar sub forma unui ursuleţ de pluş şi, aşa cum un copil îşi atribuie fiecare gând şi mişcare ursuleţului de pluş punându-l„să facă” şi să spună ce vrea el, cel care se preface încearcă inconştient să facă acelaşi lucru. Doar că acesta îşi leagă persoana închipuită de una autentică!

Ursuleţul de pluş imaginar, ca şi unul real, nu pleacă, este oricât de plăcut vrei şi poate fi băiat sau fată, copil ori adult sau poate fi chiar desfăcut în mai mulţi oameni imaginari, în cea mai fragedă copilărie a celui care se preface, ursuleţul de pluş (persoana închipuită) se poate să fi apărut ca un părinte imaginar care îi satisface toate nevoile şi, mai târziu, a personificat un partener perfect.

în următorul scenariu, ursuleţul de pluş devine o persoană închipuită – un partener imaginar pe care cel care se preface îl fixează într-o persoană reală şi pe care îl vede în locul acelei persoane.

Iluzia ursuleţului de pluş

Te invit să te relaxezi şi să îţi imaginezi, daca vrei, că atunci când erai foarte mic ai avut un ursuleţ de pluş imaginar. Şi te jucai cu el în acelaşi fel în care o fac copiii cu unul real.

Ca şi cum te-ai juca cu păpuşile, imaginează-ţi că joci rolurile micuţului ursuleţ de pluş şi al prietenului său, aşa cum ar face un copil. Glasul copilului este subţire şi chiar mai copilăros atunci când vorbeşte cu ursuleţul. „Bună, ursuleţule. Acum stai aici, mă întorc imediat. Bine?” „Bine”, spune ursuleţul cu aceeaşi voce subţire.

Cu această imagine în minte, te rog să vizualizezi că ai cu tine propriul ursuleţ de pluş imaginar şi că vorbeşti .cu el şi răspunzi în locul lui cu aceeaşi voce copilăroasă.

Cu cât eşti mai capabil să te plasezi în lumea imaginară a copilului care se joacă de-a „hai să ne prefacem”, cu atât mai eficient va fi acest scenariu în dezvăluirea felului în care unii oameni creează o extensie care, asemeni unui tentacul, se întinde de la o persoană şi intră în alta.


Eşti gata?


– Hei, îi spui tu ursuleţului de pluş, vin un pic mai încolo.

– Bine, pa, zice ursuleţul cu glas subţire.

– Salut, m-am întors.

– Oh! Salut, aici sunt, spune ursuleţul.

Îl ţii în braţe pe ursuleţ în timp ce te uiţi la desene animate la televizor.

A doua zi, îţi iei la revedere de la ursuleţ şi ieşi pe uşă.

Ursuleţul îşi ia şi el la revedere de la tine. Zilele trec în mod asemănător. Uneori, îi arăţi ursuleţului diferite lucruri.

– Uite ce am făcut astăzi.

– Oh! Eşti foarte deştept! zice ursuleţul.

Ii spui ursuleţului tot felul de lucruri şi el ştie ce să răspundă.

Uneori, îl laşi pe ursuleţ să stea singur. Dar este în regulă. Ursuleţul este tot timpul alături de tine. Uneori îl iei în braţe şi îl strângi tare. Eşti fericit că îl ai pe ursuleţ, pentru că se pare că nimănui altcuiva nu îi pasă de tine.

În cea mai mare parte a timpului, îi spui ursuleţului „Pa” când pleci şi el îţi răspunde întotdeauna.

Ursuleţul te apreciază mereu, întotdeauna îţi mulţumeşte când îi dai câte o bombonică sau alte dulciuri.

E atât de frumos să îl ai pe ursuleţ pe lângă tine. Visezi la el şi, într-un anumit fel, parcă este viu.

Timpul trece.

– Bună, ursuleţule, spui tu.

– Bună, zice el.

– Pa, îi spui tu când pleci.

– Pa, îţi zice el.

Visezi şi mai mult la el, iar ursuleţul devine tot mai real pentru tine.

Apoi, într-o zi, ursuleţul tău de vis este mai mult decât o închipuire.

–      Vrei nişte cafea? te întreabă el.


Acum ursuleţul se mişcă, dar dacă priveşti în urmă, este greu să îţi aminteşti cum s-a ajuns în această situaţie. Oricum, este minunat. Nu ai putea fi mai fericit. Ursuleţul rezolvă lucrurile, este de acord cu tine, desigur, şi se gândeşte la lucruri pe care să le facă pentru tine, chiar înainte să îl rogi. Bineînţeles că îl iubeşti pe ursuleţ.

Vii şi pleci ca de obicei.

– Mă întorc mai târziu, spui tu.

– Bine, pa, zice ursuleţul cu binecunoscuta lui voce subţire.

– Salut, m-am întors.

– Salut, spune ursuleţul.

Timpul trece, iar viaţa continuă cam în acelaşi fel. Ursuleţul vine şi pleacă, aduce bani pe care îi poţi folosi şi este întotdeauna acasă când ajungi tu. Uneori, ursuleţul vorbeşte despre diferite lucruri, dar nu are nici o legătură cu tine, aşa că dai din cap din când în când. Uneori, îi povesteşti ursuleţului câte ceva din ce ai făcut la serviciu, iar el îţi spune lucruri de genul: „Oh, minunat. Eşti foarte deştept”.

Ştii că ursuleţul vrea ce vrei şi tu.

În fiecare dimineaţă, ca de obicei, tu zici:

–      Pa, mă întorc mai târziu.
Iar ursuleţul răspunde:

–      Bine, pa.

Zilele se scurg mai departe cam în acelaşi fel, iar tu te simţi bine.

Pe măsură ce trece timpul, din când în când ur­suleţul spune ceva ce sună ciudat de diferit, aşa că nici măcar nu dai din cap. E doar un zgomot. Nu are nici o legătură cu lucrurile la care te gândeşti tu.

Apoi, într-o dimineaţă, spui:


Şi, cu o voce normală – una pe care nu ai mai auzit-o până atunci – ursuleţul zice:

–      Când te întorci?

Eşti uluit! Dintr-odată, lumea ta se întoarce pe dos. Nu s-a mai întâmplat niciodată ceva asemănător cu această experienţă zguduitoare.

Ursuleţul pe care îl ştiai dintotdeauna a dispărut! O parte din mintea ta vrea să ţipe. Ce s-a întâmplat cu ursuleţul meu? Niciodată nu s-a purtat aşa! Ursu­leţul e atât de diferit! Dintr-odată a devenit atât de independent! Te simţi aproape anihilat. Atât de singur. Atât de şocat. Parcă ursuleţul s-ar fi întors împotriva ta.

–      Ce e aia „Când te întorci?”, spui tu scrâşnind din dinţi, furios, simţindu-te atacat.

Parcă totul se destramă. Totul din cauza ursuleţului. Cum a putut să facă aşa ceva? Eşti cuprins de mânie.

–      De ce naiba mă iei la întrebări? Nu faci altceva decât să îmi pui întrebări! spui tu.

Scos din fire, abia mai eşti în stare să judeci limpede.

Cu o voce subţirică, ursuleţul zice:

–      Nu vroiam să ştiu decât dacă am timp să rămân la o întâlnire şi să mai iau cina cu tine sau dacă ajungi mai devreme acasă.

Dintr-odată, auzi din nou vocea subţire a ursu­leţului. Sună cunoscut.

– Păi, de ce nu ai spus aşa? La naiba!

– Dar nu vroiam decât să ştiu când ajungi acasă, zice ursuleţul.

–      Vrei să încetezi? Tot timpul încerci să ai tu dreptate, spui tu când ieşi pe uşă.

Ocupat toată ziua, te îndrepţi spre casă în acea seară vrând doar să te relaxezi şi să îl ţii în braţe pe ursuleţ.

Intri ca de obicei.

– Bună, ursuleţule!

– Oh, salut, spune el cu o voce diferită.

– Ce naiba ai? zici tu, obosit, exasperat şi speriat deoarece ursuleţul are un glas diferit. Nu seamănă deloc cu cel cu care eşti obişnuit.

– Păi, spune el îndurerat, mă simt cam trist. Te-am supărat cu ceva?

– Nu ştiu de unde îţi vin ideile astea! Cu cine ai stat de vorbă?

– Nu vreau să ştiu decât de ce te-ai înfuriat, spune ursuleţul.

Simţi un val de furie şi mai mare.

–      Nu m-am înfuriat! Ţi-am zis! Acum vrei să încetezi? Nu te opreşti niciodată. M-am săturat de întrebările tale, spui tu.

Ursuleţul tace.

Totul revine la normal.

– Pa, ursuleţule, rosteşti tu a doua zi.

– Pa, zice ursuleţul cu glas subţire.
Totul e în regulă, te gândeşti.

–      Salut, ursuleţule, spui când te întorci în acea seară.

Nu te întâmpină nimeni. Te uiţi în jur. Iată-1 pe ursuleţ stând în dormitor.

– Ce ai mai păţit acum? întrebi tu.

– Nu am păţit nimic. Doar mă gândeam, spune el.
Cred că există o problemă în relaţia noastră şi vreau să mergi împreună cu mine la un consilier pentru a discuta despre ea.

–      De  ce naiba  să  merg  la  consilier?  zici  tu dezgustat.

Apoi, furios, adaugi:

– Tu eşti cel care se poartă ciudat. Ai o problemă psihică importantă.

– Nu am, răspunde ursuleţul mânios.

– Ei, du-te singur la consilier. Tu ai nevoie de el. Uită-te şi tu cum te porţi în ultima vreme, spui tu şi ieşi din cameră.

Câteva zile mai târziu, ursuleţul se duce la consilier.

Ajungi acasă şi, când intri, spui:

– Salut.

– Vreau să te rog ceva, zice ursuleţul.

– Ei, ce mai e acum? Spune odată.

– Consilierul vrea să te rog să vii cu mine, zice ursuleţul   părând   foarte   calm   şi   privind   drept înainte.

– Ce consilier?

– Cel la care am fost pentru că mă simţeam trist şi pentru că sunt şi foarte furios. Toată chestia asta este foarte neclară, spune ursuleţul.

– De ce ar trebui să vin?

– Pentru că aşa vrea consilierul, zice ursuleţul.

– Păi, dacă asta o să te liniştească, atunci cred că nu am de ales. Când trebuie să mergem?

Ursuleţul îţi explică. Şi în ziua întâlnirii, plecaţi împreună. Speri că ursuleţul se va linişti dacă mergi o dată. Se pare că nu îl poţi mulţumi oricât de mult ai încerca. Nici măcar nu te plângi când ursuleţul nu face tot ce are de făcut. Şi asta e răsplata pentru toate eforturile tale. Tocmai când relaţia mergea mai bine, ursuleţul trebuia să găsească ceva.

La întâlnire, tu îi spui consilierului cum în ultima vreme ursuleţul s-a purtat ostil, punându-ţi întrebări, părând să se fi schimbat radical în ultimul an.

Consilierul îl roagă pe ursuleţ să încerce să înţeleagă cât de supărat ai fost şi să încerce să fie mai înţelegător, să arate mai multă afecţiune, să înceteze să îţi mai pună întrebări şi să fie asertiv.

Consilierul te roagă să fii răbdător cu ursuleţul şi recomandă un medic care să îi dea acestuia nişte antidepresive, deoarece pare deosebit de trist.

Poate că este o depresie de iarnă şi ursuleţul are nevoie de mai multă lumină solară, spune el.

Dacă asta nu ajută, consilierul cunoaşte un medic care poate spune dacă ursuleţul are nevoie de nişte hormoni.

Te simţi uşurat că există cineva care să te ajute să îl readuci pe ursuleţ la normal.

Viaţa merge înainte la fel în următoarele câteva săptămâni.

–      Bună, ursuleţule, spui tu când ajungi acasă într-o seară.

Nu primeşti nici un răspuns. Te uiţi în jur şi îl găseşti pe ursuleţ în dormitor, făcându-şi valiza.

– Ce naiba faci?

– Plec, spune ursuleţul cu o voce subţirică. Nimic nu a mers. Trebuie să plec.

– Nu pleci nicăieri, zici tu. Nu după tot ce am făcut pentru tine.

Brusc, ursuleţul închide valiza, o ia şi fuge spre uşă. Tu îl urmăreşti furios, îl înşfaci pe ursuleţ, strigând în timp ce îl trânteşti la podea.

–      M-am săturat de tine! Eşti nebun! Nici măcar un medic nu te mai poate ajuta. Dacă mai încerci odată chestia asta, te internez, spui tu.

Iţi vine să îl baţi pe ursuleţ, dar nu o faci.

În secret, auzi cum o voce interioară mică spune Nu mă mai joc cu tine. O să îmi găsesc un ursuleţ nou şi drăguţ.

Ursuleţul stă tăcut într-un colţ.

Poate că a înţeles mesajul, te gândeşti tu. Totul pare normal – ca în urmă cu câţiva ani. Ursuleţul a încetat să mai facă scene.

– Pa, ursuleţule, spui tu în ziua următoare.

– Pa, răspunde ursuleţul foarte încet.

În timp ce te îndrepţi spre casă în acea seară te întrebi de ce ursuleţul nu mai este drăguţ.

Ajungi acasă. Ursuleţul a plecat. Fără să ştii din ce motiv, simţi că s-a rupt o bucată din tine.

Această poveste este cunoscută multor oameni. Aceştia cred că este vorba chiar despre ei.

„Ursuleţul meu se bucura pentru mine. Credeam că asta însemna că gândim la fel. Ca mine. Nu mi-a trecut prin cap să îl întreb pe ursuleţ ce era în neregulă”, spunea un client.


O altă persoană, despărţită de mult de soţul ei, povestea că vorbise de curând cu acesta. El i-a zis că nu înţelegea de ce îl părăsise şi că vroia ca ea să se împace cu el. I-a spus că nu putea face asta.

Apoi mi-a povestit că atunci când îi explicase motivele, el îi spusese că ar fi trebuit să ştie că nu avea de gând să o omoare.

– Să te omoare? La ce se referea? am întrebat eu.

– Se referea la momentul în care mi-a pus cuţitul la gât. Atunci ar fi trebuit să ştiu că nu are de gând să mă omoare.

Gânditul la fel, iar!

–      E ceva mai sănătos acum, mi-a spus ea. A încetat să mă mai urmărească. Nu a trebuit decât să mă mut în partea cealaltă a oraşului pentru a scăpa de persecuţiile lui. Uită-te la oamenii care trebuie să plece din ţară pentru a scăpa de aşa ceva.

Nu este de mirare că fostul soţ credea că ea ştia la ce se gândea el. El o inventase. Erau „atât de apropiaţi”. Cum ar fi putut fi altfel?

Ca şi cum ar fi o putere a omului, o abilitate paranormală antrenată prin exerciţiu, unii oameni susţin că îţi pot încălca graniţa psihică, pot arunca o privire, după care ies şi apoi îţi pot spune ce au găsit acolo: „Problema ta e că …….., în ciuda faptului că acest lucru este imposibil.

Când oamenii sunt definiţi de cineva cu care încearcă să stabilească o legătură, se simt violaţi psihic, în cazul relaţiilor, suntem vulnerabili şi deschişi şi astfel, asemenea atacuri sunt destul de puternice.

Acest lucru este foarte diferit de situaţia în care o persoană intuitivă sau sensibilă te „citeşte” la invitaţia ta. Este problema ta să crezi sau nu ce îţi spune.

În viaţa de zi cu zi, oamenii care prezintă realitatea pe dos amestecă, de obicei, realitatea fizică. De exemplu, când cineva spune „Mă faci să “, nu doar se absolvă de orice res­ponsabilitate, dar se şi poartă de parcă o altă parte (tu) ar fi în interiorul lui şi i-ar provoca acel comportament – de parcă aşa ceva ar fi în ordinea firească a lucrurilor, fundamentat pe realitatea existenţei fizice.

Deşi nimeni nu poate intra în interiorul altei persoane pentru a o determina să facă ce vrea el sau să spună ce vrea el, unii oameni susţin că pot.

Tot aşa, o persoană care o forţează pe alta poate susţine, în felul ei pe dos, că „e nevoie de doi oameni”, de parcă „victima” l-ar fi agresat pe făptaş.

Unii oameni pot chiar susţine că schimbă trecutul şi prezentul, pretinzând că vorbele lor din prezent vor schimba trecutul. De exemplu, când o persoană acţionează cu violenţă împotriva celorlalţi, iar apoi spune că nu a tratat rău pe nimeni, aceasta inventează trecutul şi se inventează pe sine.


În acelaşi fel în care cineva inventează o persoană închipuită, acesta poate, de asemenea, inventa o lume închipuită, într-o lume închipuită, se întâmplă doar ceea ce vrei tu.


Patricia Evans
Oamenii dominatori.
Cum să le faci faţă oamenilor care încearcă să te controleze,

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