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

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,

Ash by Malinda Lo

Ash (Ainsling)’s story amazed me, because I expected some interpretation of a fairytale, sweet and magic, perhaps with a twist, yet it’s so much more than that, it’s a road map novel for Ash’s personal evolution as a human, Ash’s escape from grieving her mother and her father, Ash’s belief in magic and Ash’s strength of will in achieving love in it’s purest state. At first, I saw Ash as a little girl who, unfortunately, lost the human being who loved her the most and influenced her growth the most : her mother Elinor.She only has her father now and Maire Solanya, her mother’s friend and a follower of ancient traditions as the Yule, she believed in magic and it’s power, yet Ash’s father didn’t and wanted to keep Ash away of it and his grieving ends soon as he comes back from the capital with a new wife, Lady Isobel  and two stepdaughters, Ana and Clara,  supposed or Ash to have some companions. Ash’s nightmare begins with her father’s sudden death and her stepmother’s rise. Ash becomes their servant and she is thrown into a hell of a life, her parents, especially her mother made her childhood a dream and now she was in hell with no chances in life, so she finds shelter in the forest and in her dreams. She meets the dangerous fairy , Sidhean , whom she finds beautiful and believes that she’s drawn into his spell and he becomes some sort of savior, yet he just wants to claim Ash as it’s own, because he had fallen in love with her and it was the result of Ash’s mother’s curse :  for Sidhean  to fall in  love with a mortal, yet she has never expected that destiny will choose her daughter for it.


The sight of them in all their finery reminded her of Yule in Rook Hill. One year her mother had made her a fairy costume to wear, and Ash still remembered the smile on her mother’s face as she brushed silver paint onto Ash’s cheeks.

“You’ll be the prettiest fairy there,” her mother had told her, and Ash grinned as her mother tucked a cloak of white rabbit fur around her chin.

“Do you think we’ll see any real fairies?” Ash had asked excitedly.

“Perhaps,” her mother had answered, dipping her brush back into the pot of silver paint.

“How will I recognize them?”

“Sometimes they dress as ordinary humans,” her mother replied, trailing the tip of the brush over her daughter’s skin.


“At Yule we all dress as someone we are not,” her mother explained. “It is tradition.”

“And the fairies follow our traditions?” Ash asked.

Her mother laughed. “Perhaps it is we who follow theirs.”

“But how will I know if I see a fairy?” Ash asked again. “If they look like ordinary people, I won’t be able to tell.”

“You’ll be able to tell,” her mother told her, “because wherever they touch, they’ll leave a bit of gold dust behind.” She put down the brush and turned her daughter to face the mirror. “Now look–there’s the prettiest fairy I’ve ever seen.” Ash stared at herself, spellbound. Her eyes had been outlined in silver paint, and the color trailed down her cheeks in wondrous curls of gleaming light.

“It is like magic,” Ash whispered.

Her mother smiled at her, her hand touching her hair. “Yes, my love, it is.”


Ash finds herself as a witness to human frivolity in seeing her stepmother and her two stepsisters spending her father’s fortune on fancy dresses and  rich balls and trips to the capital in order to find themselves rich husbands and why not impress the prince and become princesses. Ash has no goal in finding a husband, because now she was a servant and she finds comfort in the beauty of the woods and she is charmed by  Sidhean, yet not sexually, it’s the charm of another world, different and cold, and she dreams of young women gathered in a dance and she wants to join them, yet Sidhean won’t let her and when she looks them in the eye, they seem heartless.  I find Ash’s meetings with Sidhean an escape from the cruel reality Ash is living in.


“The prince has proclaimed that he will make some sort of announcement at the hunt,” she continued, “and my stepmother and stepsisters will be there. I wish to go without them knowing.”

He stood there for a long moment in silence, and to her astonishment he had never looked more like an ordinary man–with his head bowed and his shoulders slumped, he seemed almost weary. At last she stood up and went to him, putting her hand on his arm, and he was very real: He wore linen, and it was as pale as the starlight, and when she pushed his hair out of his eyes it was as fine as silk. She looked up at his shadowed eyes and asked, “If you grant my wish, will there be a price to pay?”

He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips, and he kissed her knuckles. She felt lightheaded then, as if she had drunk a very great deal of wine, and if he had not caught her she would have stumbled. But he held her steady and answered, “There is a price for everything, Aisling.”

“What is this price?” she asked.

He said: “You shall be mine. That is the oldest law between your people and mine. But you must agree to it freely; if you do not, then I will not grant your wish.” The way he spoke gave her the impression that he had said those words many times before.

With his hands on her shoulders, she could feel the pulsing of her blood within her as if it were rushing up to meet his skin, and the price did not seem so high. Part of her thought, at last, and that part would have given herself up at that very moment. In a trembling voice, she asked, “When must you have payment?”

“You will know,” said Sidhean, “when the time is right.”

“Then I wish it,” she said quickly, before she could lose her nerve. She felt his fingers tighten on her shoulders, and she wondered if he were imprinting himself on her: Would the mark of his hands be visible? For now they were surely bound together.


Ash’s contact to reality and kindness is  on the day when she meets the King’s huntress,  Kaisa and  Ash loves the way Kaisa is dressed and how she behaves as a free woman and how she tracks in the woods and in fact she is really attracted to Kaisa and doesn’t know it yet.

Kaisa, on the other hand, is a strong, free  and confident women that holds a very powerful position in the kingdom as the kings’s huntress, after years of apprentice and , of course, she knows what is like and what it means to love another woman and she feels Ash different and strange and she’s intrigued by her young and innocent nature and tries to know her better.


The two women find in each other love, the real love of their lives and Kaisa knows it and tries to approach Ash through ridding and hunting and,  surprisingly,  Ash finds comfort and something else she cannot describe nor understand and for being with Kaisa she changes her life, takes many risks, including  asking Sidhean two favors : a dress to go to the prince’s ball , that will vanish at midnight just as Cinderella  and a hunting outfit to be with Kaisa at the king’s annual hunt. In exchange, she  promises Sidhean she will be his, as fairy and human, I believe she has no idea she has actually promised her soul to the fairy, yet her heart and soul were already given to Kaisa and will remain so. During the ball she dances with the prince and vanishes and she is searched in the whole kingdom and she saw Kaisa just shortly and it’s a general confusion, including Kaisa and her stepmother and stepsisters are jealous and actually hurt her, cut her hair and the reader wants to see her out of that house and into Kaisa’s loving arms and expect Kaisa to save her, yet Ash is taking the final step into her evolution and leaves that house and also, breaks  Sidhean’s curse and she is free to love Kaisa.

Heir to the Demon

Ash dreamed that she was walking through the Wood at midsummer, and when she looked up through the canopy of leaves she felt the warmth and heat of the sun on her face. There was someone walking beside her, and she was not surprised to turn and see the huntress, who smiled at her and extended her hand, and Ash took it. Small white flowers bloomed all around them, and as they walked the flowers became vines that climbed up the tree trunks until it was as if the trees were hung with blossoms made of snow. When they came to a stop, Ash saw that the path ended on the edge of a cliff, and before them was a ravine. She could not see the other side, but the white flowers continued to twine down over the edge of the ravine like a rope ladder, and the huntress squeezed her hand and said, “Shall we find that poor stag-princess?”

“Are you going to kill her?” Ash asked, and her voice sounded strange, as though she heard it from outside her body.

The huntress smiled and shook her head. “No, but you will.”

“Are not all eligible young ladies invited?” Kaisa pointed out, and grinned. “Do you not share the desire of so many young ladies who wish to be his bride?”

She laughed, thinking of the way Ana and Clara would react to the idea that she might marry the prince. “I would make a poor princess,” she said.


“Have you ever wished to be a princess?” Ash challenged her.

“That depends,” Kaisa said.

“On what?”

“On whether I would have to marry a prince,” she said, and her tone was lighthearted, inviting Ash to share her smile

Ash laughed thinly. “Content?” she repeated, and she heard the bitterness in her voice. “I am a servant….” She trailed off, feeling uncomfortable; had the huntress not just sent her servant away to serve her? The difference in their stations had never bothered her before; in the Wood, when they were alone, she could imagine that they were at the same level. But after the hunt and the ball, she could no longer deny the bald facts of it. She knew there was still a bit of flour trapped beneath her fingernails, remnants of her day’s work; across from her, the huntress wore a ruby ring on her right hand, the stone glowing in the lamp light like a tiny fire.

“I am sorry,” said Kaisa, “if I have offended you.”

She looked genuinely concerned, and Ash could only shake her head. “Oh no,” she said. “You have made me feel so welcome, as though I were the same as you and no servant at all; you have never offended me.”

Something about the way Kaisa’s face was lit by the hanging lamp reminded Ash of the great bonfire in the City Square at Yule, and she said, “At Yule, when you and your hunters went to the Square–you sang a song. Where is it from?”

Kaisa took a sip of wine from her own goblet before answering. “That is a very old tune. Its origins are more legend than confirmed fact.”

“What is the legend?”

“It is said that many hundreds of years ago, when fairies still walked the land and the King’s Huntress was appointed to go between both courts, a powerful greenwitch was called upon to cast a spell that would ensure the huntress’s safe return each time she visited the fairy court. But in order for the spell to hold, each time the huntress went into that other world, she had to gather all of her hunters together to chant the words, for that would bind her to this world. If they ever did not say the spell together before she left for the fairy court, she might never be able to return.”

“And now it is sung only at Yule?” Ash asked, taking a sip of the wine, which was light and cool.

Kaisa nodded. “As far as I know, yes.”


She shrugged. “I am not sure. It is tradition. I believe that the huntress was called to the fairy court annually–at least this is what the stories say–and that annual visit was shortly after Yule, near the first of the new year. Perhaps that is why the song is still sung today at that time.”

“You speak of the fairy court as if you believe in it,” Ash said, taken aback.

“I will not discount anything that has endured in our traditions for so long,” said Kaisa, with a small grin.


Kaisa emerged. She seemed surprised to see Ash there and said, “Are you lost, madam?”

Ash realized that the huntress did not recognize her, for she was wearing the mask still. “No,” she said in relief. “I was looking for you.”

Kaisa came toward her curiously, recognition dawning in her. “Ash?” she asked.

“Yes,” said Ash. She could see the hollow in the huntress’s throat, now, where the collar of her shirt was open; her skin was colored gold in the candlelight. She came closer to Ash and lifted her hands to the mask, and when the cuffs of Kaisa’s shirt fell back, Ash saw the glint of silver on the huntress’s wrist before she untied the silk cord that held the mask to Ash’s face.

When Kaisa stepped back and saw her, she raised her eyebrows and said, “What a gown you are wearing.”

Without the mask, Ash felt self-conscious; she was not sure if Kaisa had ever looked at her like that before. She held out her hand to take the mask back, but Kaisa did not give it to her. “Let me have it back,” Ash said.

“I prefer to see the face of the person I am talking to,” said Kaisa.

“Then you must not enjoy the masquerade.”

The huntress shook her head. “Not especially. I feel that there are so many opportunities for slights–perceived or real–when we do not know who we are with.”

“You don’t enjoy the mystery of it?”

“There are other mysteries I prefer,” Kaisa said, and then she returned the mask to Ash, who took it but did not put it on. “Shall we go back to the ball?” Kaisa asked. “I am sorry I was not there to greet you.”

“Whose is it?” Kaisa asked. “The Queen’s?” She straightened up and reached out to touch the jewels around Ash’s neck, her fingers warm against her skin. “These are worth more than a fortune,” she said. Then she moved away, stepping back and crossing her arms, and gave Ash an appraising look. “You look beautiful,” she said, and Ash could not meet her eyes. “But the dress does not suit you.” The warmth that had flooded through her when Kaisa had touched her twisted; she felt her cheeks flaming. “It looks like it is suffocating you,” Kaisa continued. “Who gave you this gown–and that horse you rode to the hunt? You must have a wealthy benefactor.”

Kaisa came closer to her and took her left hand, the one that was not wearing the moonstone ring, for Ash had curled that one away behind her. The mask dangled between them, the cord twined in their fingers. “Let me help you,” Kaisa said. “You don’t need to face it alone.”

Ash heard her speak the words, but it was as though she heard them very distantly, for the dress was still pulling on her, tugging her mind’s eye back to Sidhean. Then the huntress drew Ash’s right hand from behind her back, covering the moonstone ring with her warm, human fingers, and at last Ash felt her there, so close that she could feel the heat from her body. And she said, “You cannot help me; I must finish this on my own.” There is nothing you can do, she thought. I am the debt; not you. For the first time, the consequence of her choice was devastatingly clear: fulfilling her contract with Sidhean meant that she would never see Kaisa again.

She was at her mother’s grave, and she heard her mother’s voice in her ear. There will come a change, and you will know what to do.

“There are many who would cast themselves as the huntress’s lover.”

Ash looked at Lore, blinking slowly, for the wine made her feel as if she were walking through cobwebs. “What do you mean?” Ash asked.

Lore smiled at her almost pityingly. “I thought you were one of them,” Lore said.

Ash felt heat rise in her cheeks at Lore’s words and asked, “Why would you think that?” She wondered uncomfortably if she had done something to suggest it. And if she had–did she feel that way? The idea was unsettling; it made her feel vulnerable.


„It was Kaisa who broke the silence. “After you left last night, it was all anyone could talk about,” she said. “They asked me about you, but all I could tell them was that I loved you, and I did not know when or if you would return.” By now Kaisa had put down the brush and had come to stand before her. “They brought me your cloak,” she added, “and I have kept it for you.”

Ash stepped toward her, dropping her satchel on the ground, and took the huntress’s hands in her own. She felt as if the whole world could hear her heart beating as she said, “After I left last night, I was not sure whether I would be able to return, but I hoped so, and now I can tell you that it is finished, and I am free to love you.” Then they took the last step together, and when she kissed her, her mouth as warm as summer, the taste of her sweet and clear, she knew, at last, that she was home.



I loved this novel because it entangles reality with magic, mixed feelings of love and hate create the difference between the characters and the good wins over evil.   

Lily of the Tower by Elizabeth Hart

„Lily of the tower” by Elizabeth Hart is that kind of novel that seems simple, yet it’s extremely complex, a combination of  Emily Bronte’s „Wuthering Heights” concerning Lily’s character and situation and  Jane Austen’s „Jane Eyre” concerning Agnes’s character involving her marriage and in the end, her love for Lily, the captive of  the tower.




Elizabeth Hart manages to introduce us to two wealthy families during Regency period of  the Victorian Era’s England : the Netherfield’s and the Headey’s. Smoothly, the story  flows by understanding  our two main character’s situations.


Lily Netherfield is the only daughter of the wealthy family and it’s expected  soon to be married, yet  she has an affair with her maid and her parents and her brother take her to an asylum and then imprison her in the family’s domain, because she is considered t be ill and reluctant to be cured. Lily is resigned, because she understands  that even now, after their parents’ death, her brother looks at her with pity and tries to help her, yet Lily is not ill, she just loves women and doesn’t deserve her imprisonment (just like „The man in the iron mask”) and to be seen like a freak of nature even by the servants. Everything is dark and even Lily believes to be ill after taking those pills and she is somehow buried in this tower.


Agnes Headey  is just a normal Victorian girl from a wealthy family courted by James Thornton,  she has a free spirit and lives with her father that is very anxious to see her married to James, yet she’s not. She’s full of life, scents and  exhuberance.



She rides alone one night and gets lost, while a storm brakes out and she searches refugee at the neighbors, the Netherfields, who’s home she has never seen. Everybody knows Lily is dead and the home is lived by her brother only. She is welcomed by the servant girl and it’s offered a room for a couple of days, yet somehow she understands something isn’t quite right in the great mansion and she discovers the secret of the tower, Lily and she quite falls in love with her at the very first sight and for the very first time. She really wants to help Lily and doesn’t understand her feelings , all that she knows is the fact that she wants to see Lily again. She blackmails Claire, the girl servant and master Netherfield to give Lily little freedoms like to be able to leave the tower, to get her old dresses back and her rooms. I really loved Agnes’s strength of will and how she even finds Lily’s former maid , Zona,  who has become a nun and believes Lily is really sick.  Agnes doesn’t really understand Lily’s relationship with her maid until she sees her and beyond her reaction , she understands now that Lily and her maid were lovers and they tried to escape dressed as young men  and Agnes is jealous and wants Lily’s attention and all her touches for her alone, while she visits she manages to even kiss Lily and touch her, but Lily knows better and doesn’t encourage Agnes in any way, even more she tells Agnes that the taste of freedom hurts and got her into this situation and advices Agnes to get married.




Agnes is furious and doesn’t want to see Lily again and she marries James, yet the physical relation with him is a terrible experience for her, even though she gets pregnant and loses her child, yet still she thinks of Lily and after many months not seeing Lily now he writes her and sends her books. She manages to finally visit Lily again and her feelings grow intense and deep and they kiss again and furthermore, Lily touches her for that very first time and Agnes knows she has longed for that touch all her life and realizes she is in love with Lily and wants to spend her life with her.








Agnes runs away from her husband and dressed as a young man she escapes in the city and cannot be recognized by anyone while her husband and her father search for her like mad men all she wants is to develop a plan for her to live with Lily. After many weeks around her home and Lily’s she goes to see her and dressed as a young man she enters the mansion easily and they just embrace and kiss and all their feelings are revealed right there, right then. Accidentally, Lily discovers that her brother is gay and was all along, having  a relationship with a young servant man and that he had condamned her to an imprisoned life for loving women, while all along he knew what it ment. That’s the turning point of the book, He commits suicide, Agnes’s husband returns home, while Lily and Agnes live happily ever after away from the Netherfield’s mansion who remained in the hands of the servant young man.


I enjoyed the plot and the final surprise with Lily’s brother, the reason is weak, yet I wished Lily’s character would have been stronger and to have faught more for her first love and for her last love, Agnes. Maybe the  author wanted it this way for Agnes’s character to be bolder and stronger into aknowledge her sexuality and jealousy and love. It took so long for Agnes to understand Lily’s and Zona’s relationship. Agnes dependence on laudanum during her short marriage was so dramatic really, because all she wanted was Lily. I enjoyed the read , captivating historical lesbian romance.






Awake unto me by Kathleen Knowles

„You want desperately for the feeling to never stop yet you fear you might die of it. But you don’t die. That sensation reaches its delightful crescendo and then explodes.”

Beautiful dreamer, wake unto me

Starlight and dewdrops are waiting for thee

Sounds of the rude world, Heard in the day

Lull’d by the moonlight have all pass’d away


Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song

Beautiful dreamer, queen of my song

List while I woo thee with soft melody

Gone are the cares of life’s busy throng

Beautiful dreamer awake unto me

Beautiful dreamer awake unto me


Beautiful dreamer, out on the sea

Mermaids are chanting the wild Lorelie

Over the streamlet vapors are borne

Waiting to fade at the bright coming morn


Beautiful dreamer, beam on my heart

E’en as the morn on the streamlet and sea

Then will all clouds of sorrow depart

Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me

Beautiful dreamer, awake unto me


The Barbary Coast

San Francisco, September 1888


„Awake unto me” is a historical lesbian romance, something between a pirate novel and a  coming of age one, placed during the 1888-1910 , with more than one twists, involving the two main characters, Kerry and Beth, coming from two worlds apart, thrown into a single real one, that brings them together, yet through fear, could separate them forever.


Kerry lived in a whorehouse, her mother was dead and  her father was Lucky Jack, a conman of the San Frascisco’s Barbary Coast, who earned his living through gambling or fooling sailors and getting them drugged and steal all their money, yet he wanted Kerry to have a better life as he did, yet the little girl saw she could easily help Lucky Jack dressed as a boy and so she dressed as one, still living in the whorehouse, so at fifteen she had her first sexual encounter with Sally, who read between the lines and seduce her.  One day, Lucky Jack is really lucky to have met Dr. Addison Grant who needs money to graduate the medical school, so they gather up in gambling, because Dr. Grant was a genius in numbering the cards and so Jack earned some money and put them in a bank account for Kerry to be out of the world he knew and made Addison promise he will take care of her, so he did as Jack dies in a dispute with an old villain, Sally falls into disgrace, even more that she has already been, and Kerry finds Dr. Grant and he keeps his promise to take care of her, in spite of his reluctant wife Laura, who will be a really pain in the ass for everyone. Kerry is not yet a grown up at sixteen, yet she knows she wants to remain in Addison’s world and out of  Jack and Sally’s, she know she will dress as a man and find a way in this life, especially when she meets this girl, a future nurse, in Addison’s home at a small party.


“You’re fifteen now, ain’t you?” Sally asked. Her eyelids were lowered and she had a funny little smile on her face.

Kerry nodded.

“You like girls, I bet. Don’t you?” She grinned when Kerry didn’t say anything. “You used to only like boys. I always saw you with that ratty little guy

Kerry fought to keep her temper. It was true she wasn’t spending time with Teddy. He’d gotten a bellhop job at the Palace so he wasn’t around much. When Kerry wasn’t helping Jack, she would wander over to the Cobweb Palace and saunter through the dark, gazing at the pictures of girls like they had when they were children. Like the cobwebs, the pictures had multiplied over the years. Kerry would stare at one and try to imagine what the girl would be like in real life, what she would feel like, smell like. She liked to think that the portraits in the Cobweb Palace were of nice girls, good girls.

“Yeah,” Kerry said finally. “Maybe I like girls.”

Sally lowered her eyelids again and asked, “Would you like to touch me?”

Kerry had about drained her glass of beer and she was feeling pretty good. Sally was being nicer than ever and looked pretty in her drawers. The tops of her plump, pale breasts peeked out from the yellowed ruffle of her chemise. Kelly looked at them longingly and Sally burst out laughing.

“It’s plain as day what you want, Kerry-o. C’mere.”

Sally pulled her into an embrace and they kissed again. The sensation of their tongues together almost sent Kerry into a swoon. Sally pushed Kerry’s head down to her breasts and Kerry kissed Sally’s chest and the tops of her breasts, and without any prompting she reached up to squeeze them, her hands trembling as she felt Sally’s nipples harden under her fingertips. Sally’s reaction astonished her when she threw her head back and groaned.

“Oh, girl, you’re going to slay me with those lips, you are. Come on.”

With that she unbuttoned her chemise and pulled it over her head, ripped off her drawers, and looked at Kerry with challenge in her eyes. “Take your clothes off.”

Kerry obeyed as though she were a puppet with Sally pulling her taut strings. The room was dim but not full dark, since it was twelve noon, but with the old shade pulled the light was a sickly orange. The beer and Sally’s eyes and Sally’s kisses were altogether overwhelming to Kerry. She was light-headed because even though she’d seen Sally naked before she’d never felt this way—all warm and tingling and aching to touch her. Sally was a little plump and so very soft. Kerry lay down next to her and ran her small, slim, tanned hand from Sally’s throat down to her crotch.

Sally trembled and murmured, “Mmmm. That sure feels good. You can make me feel even better. Do what I show you.”

With that, she pulled Kerry’s head to her breast, gripping her dark brown hair. Kerry knew without being told what to do and licked the shiny pink nipple offered to her lips, reveling in the feel of the soft but wonderfully hard flesh as she ran her tongue over it and sucked it into her mouth. Sally was moving all over and moaning loudly. She guided Kerry’s fingers none too gently to where she wanted them between her legs. Kerry had an odd feeling of familiarity since she had her own body as a reference. She knew what Sally felt, but feeling Sally around her fingers, so soft, and hot, and wet, made her nearly cry out with her own pleasure as her rich, dark scent filled her nose.

In a moment or two, Sally’s hand gripped her wrist hard, her breathing shallow and fast, her moaning taking on a shrill, desperate tone. “Faster,” she gasped. Kerry obeyed. She realized suddenly what kind of power she could wield and she liked it. She liked seeing Sally all helpless and pleading. It all ended suddenly as Sally heaved, uttering one sharp cry, and pressed her legs together hard, her wetness filling Kerry’s hand as her back arched before she collapsed back onto the bed.

“Oooee. Girl. You done me right. I knew you would.” Her breasts were going up and down, and they were rosy and had a little coating of sweat. Kerry lay quietly just looking at her in wonderment, trying to decide if it would be rude to lick the sweat from Sally’s beautiful breasts.

Sally was a lot of things but tender wasn’t one of them. But, for some reason, her hand on Kerry’s cheek seemed tender. Caring, even. Whatever just happened to her at least made her a little grateful or something, Kerry thought, feeling eight feet tall and ten years older to have been the cause of it.

She smiled shyly and Sally laughed. “You’re something, you are. I don’t think I ever got it as good as that. C’mere.” Those two little words were exerting a powerful effect on Kerry, and she was readier than anything to heed the call.

Sally cradled Kerry in her arms, hugging her small, slim body tight. Kerry was about to smother in her breasts, but she thought, This is a fine way to goSally started stroking her all over on her breasts and back and backside, squeezing her now and then. She whispered into Kerry’s ear, “I reckon I get to show you what for now. I’ll treat you reallll nice. ’Cause that’s how you treated me. I don’t forget that.”

Kerry jumped a foot, though, when Sally pinched her nipples a little too hard.

“Oh, sorry, sweetie. I didn’t know you were like glass. I’ll be nicer. In fact, I’ll be so nice you’ll think you died and gone to heaven.” Sally’s hands were everywhere, and everywhere her hands went, her lips followed. Kerry squirmed, half from discomfort and half from arousal. She didn’t know exactly what she wanted, but she knew she needed it. Now. The sensations of Sally’s hands and tongue on her heated skin were driving her crazy.

“Do you touch yourself?” Sally asked suddenly.

Kerry nodded. Her ability to speak had somehow fled. Sally was looking at her closely and insinuating her fingers in those places where no one but Kerry herself had been. Her fingers were clever and insistent, and Kerry had to shut her eyes. She couldn’t stand the feeling but she also couldn’t stand the thought of it stopping. She was concentrating hard and she was shocked when the fingers stopped. Before she could fully absorb that, she felt her legs pushed apart and the brush of hair on her thigh, and then a warm, wet mouth covered her most private, most sensitive place. She gasped and started to shove Sally away.

Sally raised her head. “Shhhhh!” she ordered, and went back to her task, wrapping her arms firmly around Kerry’s thighs.

When it was over, Sally propped herself up on her elbow and gently tweaked Kerry’s nipple. “Now you know what else to do. How about you show me what you learned.”

Beth is the only daughter of an upper-class couple that happen to own a shop and that’s their life. They act like..”if the Bible says so”, so Beth is doomed  from her early years to help her parents in everything and anything and follow their written or unwritten rules, every step of freedom or personal desire is a dreadful fight ended in tears, I find Beth the real heroin of this book, as she has to struggle with the whole world, even to have an Italian friend or visit her family, her mother helps a bit, but really cannot stop the darkness that will follow. Beth is sent to the local reverend to take biblical classes, yet her father need a credit from someone under the reverend’s influence. This reverend is a pedophile and unfortunately, Beth cannot escape his sexual advances nor the abuse afterwards and none believes her, her parents oblige her to go back to the reverend, now that was cruelty and she escapes only when the old man dies.  One thing to be clear, this abuse hasn’t changed Beth’s sexual orientation nor made her in any way, it just shows the horror of some families, at the begining of the 1900, at the foundation of America, soaked to follow the man’s will and the women were silenced through the „Bible says so..” issue or „for her to read the Bible is enough”, regarding the women’s emancipation nor free spirit. Beth manages to go to nursing school, despite her father’s wishes, to be his slave at his shop, and this is the way she meets Dr. Addison Grant, therefor Kerry.


“She’s the best girl in the world, dear. Give her at least this much privilege.”

“Books are no good for girls.”

“She only reads novels and poetry, dear. They won’t harm her.”

“The only book she needs is the Bible.”

When Frieda mentioned Beth’s request to go the Rocco farm, her father’s face turned the color of the spaghetti sauce they served at their dinner, and Beth curled into herself and stared at her plate.

“No. I said, no. I need her at the store.”

Beth and Addison to go to the Philippines to war

„“You’re unhappy,” Beth stated flatly. “You don’t wish me to go.”’

“It’s not that simple.”

“Explain it to me, then. Tell me what you’re feeling. It’s a worry to me when I can tell you’re unhappy but you won’t explain to me, just as you won’t speak of your childhood.”

I’m in love with you and you don’t know it and I can’t tell you. I don’t know how to tell you. I would like to show you but… “I worry for your safety and I’ll miss you very much, that’s all.”

“Is that all? Kerry, look at me, please.”

Beth came up behind Kerry, who stood at the sink. Kerry slowly turned around and looked into her eyes. Beth’s expression was concerned and tender, but still Kerry couldn’t say what she wished to say: I’m in love with you.

Beth touched her cheek, and Kerry gazed at her longingly and covered Beth’s hand with her own hand.”

Now remember that Beth, unlike Kerry, knows nothing of love, sexual feelings nor care, because her parents took care of that, she was such an innocent in those issues, alltogether with the defiant act with the reverend, she somehow just let herself absorbed in school and afterwards in her work.

The first kiss

„The title read “Nocturne in E flat” by Fredrik Chopin.

Beth played, the notes flowing from her fingers. It was a slow, haunting tune with a few passages of rapid notes. Something about the melancholy yearning of the music seemed so perfectly suited to both of them and to the moment. This time Kerry looked hard at Beth’s face. She seemed to have gone into another world. As beautiful as the music was, Beth’s beauty moved Kerry more. If possible, she grew more beautiful as she played. Kerry stared; she couldn’t stop herself and her throat went dry. She focused on Beth’s lips. She closed her eyes and imagined kissing them.

As Beth played the last notes, she bowed her head and this time left her hands resting on the keys. Kerry moved as though she was under water. She put her hand on Beth’s cheek, turned her head so they were face to face, and kissed her. It was neither a short kiss nor a long one; it was gentle and not especially passionate, but it was unmistakably a lover’s kiss. Kerry was sure she felt Beth kiss her back before abruptly breaking away and closing the piano.

“You should go. It’s getting late.”


My Dear Beth,

It has been now two months since we last saw each other, and my sadness at your absence grows no less. It does, in fact, become worse over time. My days are truly without color and joy. As for my nights, I sleep poorly in spite of my fatigue. I worry for your safety and trust you are not being too overworked. You, who are so faithful and diligent, I know would scarcely ever refuse to perform a task set before you. As your letters describe, the tasks can be immense. I long for your safe return and for the time we can once again drive the promenade in Golden Gate Park or visit the Baths for a swim.




 None of this matters, for she doesn’t love me and will never love me. So does this mean I’ll never know love? Never touch a woman again? If Beth doesn’t want me the way I want her, why shouldn’t I be with someone else?

„During her restless nights, her thoughts turned to Kerry more times than not. She recalled their jaunts to the park and to the Sutro Baths. Kerry’s burning dark eyes stared into hers when she closed her eyes, and her low, slightly hoarse voice echoed in her ears. Between sleep and awakening, she floated on the waters of the Sutro Baths supported by Kerry’s confident hands and strong arms. The memories were a pleasant and comforting refuge with an unexpected edge of bittersweet longing she couldn’t quite understand. Her roommate was quiet and unobtrusive, so Beth was left largely with her own thoughts, which suited her fine

Beth reread the letter. She wanted to say so much more, but she couldn’t find the words. She knew it sounded a bit overformal. She missed Kerry more than she would have predicted and knew she was looking forward to beginning the work for which they had been sent to perform, if only to take her mind off Kerry. They were to care for the casualties of war, and though Beth was only nominally patriotic and had no opinion on the rightness of the cause, she knew there would be people who were hurt or sick, and she wanted to care for them. All else was irrelevant.

The whiskey did relax her, but she fell into bed and tossed and turned in a state of semi-consciousness. Luckily, her stateroom mate was still on duty, else she might have been treated to hearing Beth mumble, “Kerry. Why did you kiss me? It’s a strange thing to do but I do so wish you would again. You look at me with such longing.” Beth played the kiss over and over. She didn’t know what it meant and where it might lead, but her psyche had latched on to it.”



They met at Addison’s party, yet nothing really happens but a flawless attraction, that Kerry senses and Beth has no idea what’s about. And life goes on through  many chapters, them being separated and back together as friends. Kerry manages to get a job as dishwasher at a famous hotel’s restaurant : The Palace and Beth works as a nurse at the same hospital as Addison and lives and sleeps in Kerry’s room and Beth and Addison go to the War in the Philippines together, leaving Kerry and Laura altered behind. Kerry and Beth have shared just a kiss that neither could decipher back then, yet during such a long period of time Kerry understands her own feelings and know she wants Beth as a friend and as a lover, as a wife, yet Beth doesn’t really know, until she hears two nurses confessing their love for each other.

„“And something else. I saw something, heard something.”

Kerry was looking at her closely. “Yes?” Kerry said, to encourage her.

“There were two nurses,” Beth said, “part of our staff. They were very good friends. I heard them talking, saw them. They didn’t know I was there.”

She was speaking in a very low tone, forcing Kerry to strain to listen. Kerry was scarcely breathing and listening so intently she felt she might faint.

“They have a…a connection…they were, are, they…” Beth was clearly very close to tears. “They were in love with each other. I saw them kiss,” she finally said.

Kerry swallowed, not wanting to interrupt Beth. But down in her heart, she began to hope. She has finally realized. She knows. She knows! Kerry didn’t want to speak, even though she was desperate to hear what Beth would say next. She willed herself to be patient. Beth stared at the giant tropical plants for what seemed like a long, long time.

“Dearest Kerry?” Beth turned and looked her in the eye. “Are you in love with me?”

Beth’s expression was tender and compassionate and Kerry relaxed a little bit, but the question hung in the humid, hot air of the greenhouse. Kerry realized that she had to answer truthfully. The chance she had been praying for had come at last, and she had to summon her courage and roll the dice.

“Yes, Beth. Yes, I’m in love with you.”

“I thought so,” Beth said simply. “I wasn’t sure but now you have confirmed it.” There was another long silence.

Kerry took a deep breath. “I fell in love with you the exact moment I looked into your eyes after you spilled the coffee at Addison’s reception and I came to help you clean up.”

“Oh, Kerry. These many months—you never said.”

“I didn’t want to offend you. I wanted to be your friend. I wanted you to like me.”

“I do like you, very much,” Beth said softly, absently tracing one of Kerry’s fingers with her own.

“But you don’t love me?” Kerry asked sadly.

“Oh, Kerry, I don’t know. I don’t know anything about love.”

“Let me show you then.” Kerry glanced around, and by some miracle they were alone.

Kerry put her arms around her and pulled her close. Beth tensed but didn’t pull away, and Kerry pulled her even closer before kissing her, reveling in the sweet softness of Beth’s perfect lips. Kerry didn’t want to take advantage of Beth’s acquiescence and press her too hard so she stopped the kiss, resting her “And something else. I saw something, heard something.”

Kerry was looking at her closely. “Yes?” Kerry said, to encourage her.

“There were two nurses,” Beth said, “part of our staff. They were very good friends. I heard them talking, saw them. They didn’t know I was there.”

She was speaking in a very low tone, forcing Kerry to strain to listen. Kerry was scarcely breathing and listening so intently she felt she might faint.

“They have a…a connection…they were, are, they…” Beth was clearly very close to tears. “They were in love with each other. I saw them kiss,” she finally said.

Kerry swallowed, not wanting to interrupt Beth. But down in her heart, she began to hope. She has finally realized. She knows. She knows! Kerry didn’t want to speak, even though she was desperate to hear what Beth would say next. She willed herself to be patient. Beth stared at the giant tropical plants for what seemed like a long, long time.

“Dearest Kerry?” Beth turned and looked her in the eye. “Are you in love with me?”

Beth’s expression was tender and compassionate and Kerry relaxed a little bit, but the question hung in the humid, hot air of the greenhouse. Kerry realized that she had to answer truthfully. The chance she had been praying for had come at last, and she had to summon her courage and roll the dice.

“Yes, Beth. Yes, I’m in love with you.”

“I thought so,” Beth said simply. “I wasn’t sure but now you have confirmed it.” There was another long silence.”


It really takes a very long time for Kerry to tell Beth the truth about her childhood, I enjoyed it when Kerry returned to Sally and Beth went after her, yet Beth cannot tel Kerry about her childhood abuse very soon, either.


Kerry’s touch, though, was something a part of her desperately craved. She was terrified, though, if Kerry touched her again, it would be exactly the same and she would recoil, thrust back to her victimized childhood. She wasn’t able to decide which was worse—her feelings or their effect on Kerry, who looked so terribly wounded and confused. It’s impossible to disclose or discuss it. Once she knows, she may never even want to speak to me or even see me again. She will think me used and dirty. It’s possible we’ll never be as she wants us to be or as I want us to be with this standing between us. If I keep silent we can perhaps be friends, but that’s all.

When they return, Kerry manages to tell Beth how she really feels and while Addison and his wife were away,  they try to make love, but Beth cannot, she remembers the abuse from her childhood and she and Kerry break up.  After a while, Beth tells Kerry the truth, because she understood she wanted to be with Kerry, too, just like the two nurses she overheard.

They try to talk to Addison and he says he has no real medical cure, but an asylum and it’s not the case, it will just pass with time.

In the meantime, Kerry over-ranked at work and it is now a cook and Beth a respected nurse, close to attend the medical school as a doctor as Addison suggested.  Beth studied her feelings once more and she finally decided that it’s a matter of choice and she chooses to forget the past and go to bed with Kerry. They pass brief beautiful and passionate times until Laura discovers them and puts Addison in the situation to chose her or Kerry. Addison asks Kerry and Beth to move out and they are sad to leave him , yet understood destiny offered them a new chance,a s Addison knew of loves between women from his aunts and actually resides Laura, remains her husband in words only, because she has also told Beth’s parents and created a stupid situation . The girls have some money from Kerry’s heritage from her father and her own savings are added to a new home for them both. Happy end.


The idea of the novel is beautiful, the characters have essence and somehow we see them evolve, live and love and at loss, yet the times apart were too long, the lack of intimacy and sexual latency, to few, the way they were brought together was well matched, but the substance of love lacks, that special something isn’t there, I understand Beth is hurt, yet her she should have studied her feelings more, or experience more, she seems insipid. I enjoyed the read, but the happy ending was too much expected.

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