Nobilis Erotica

LONGER WORKS

Magical Clothes is the story of Verity, the child who dared to shout the truth of the Emperor's New clothes. Now all grown up, she is ready for a bawdy adventure of her own.

You can own a copy of Magical Clothes in print (or ebook) by clicking HERE.

Excerpt:

She had to find out what it felt like. She had to know.

She stood at the side door of their house, heart pounding in her chest. Her nightclothes were bundled on the bench next to the door where she'd be able to get to them quickly when she came back in. Slowly, she lifted the latch and pulled the door open a crack.

The alley was deserted, of course. The only people who would be out and about at this time of night were the night watchmen, whose hourly calls of "All's well!" comforted insomniacs and put fear in Verity's heart. If one of them saw her, recognized her, caught her�who knows what the penalty would be. At the very least she'd be mortified to be brought home, especially given the hardship her mother endured.

Night watchmen, or else... those the night watchmen kept watch for. Thieves plied their trade at night. Thieves, and burglars, and all sorts of dangerous men. Being caught by one of those... that would be even worse than being caught by a night watchman. Who knows what a burglar might do if he came upon a young lady of quality, creeping about in the altogether. She shuddered at the thought.

Verity craned her neck to look up towards the street. The streetlights, with their dancing little flames, made pools of light, but left deep pools of darkness in the alleyways. "Just up to the corner of the house," she whispered to herself. "That's far enough." She crept from the door, careful to close it slowly to make the least possible noise.

Black slippers protected her feet from the cobblestones. She didn't want dirty feet to give away her secret foray, even after the fact. A lady of her class was never supposed to have dirty feet. Aside from that, she wore nothing. Her hair stood on end from excitement rather than cold, for the weather in Blindestadt was always warm, by order of the Emperor.

She reached the corner of the house, and crouched in the darkness. Her nipples were so hard they ached, and she felt an itch growing between her legs. "There," she thought, "I've done it. I'm as far as the edge of the street." She turned back into the alley, hurried to the door, and closed it behind her, letting out the breath she had hardly noticed she was holding.

Panting, Verity listened. The house remained silent, no sign that her mother had roused. She had done it. No one caught her. No one saw. She was safe, and she never needed to do it again. Quickly, she threw her nightdress over her head and padded up the stairs to her bedroom. She kicked off her slippers and flung herself under the sheet, but sleep would not come. Her body trembled, taut as a bowstring.

Her hands crept under the covers, running over the light fabric of her nightdress. In spite of the warmth of her bed, her nipples felt like pebbles, tight and hard. She stroked them, feeling them roll around under the palms of her hands. That moment, peering out of the dark alley into the street, burned in her mind like the fuse on a firework, threatening and full of promise. She couldn't keep her hands from wandering any more than she could control her desire to feel the outside air against her body. Arching her back, she pulled the nightdress up under her shoulders, and threw off the sheet. Shamelessly, she caressed her body, eyes closed, imagining herself in the middle of the street, vulnerable in a dozen ways, brazen and wanton...

Opal is a doctor working at a remote clinic in the jungles of Papua New Guinea. When a strange, genetically engineered soldier drops into her life, she must run for her life to escape his ruthless compatriots, a mercenary company known as Blackstorm. Along the way, the mercenary, called "Pholus" after a mythical centaur, finds that there are "feelings stronger than instinct, and loyalties higher than money."

You can have Centaur on your screen today by clicking right here.


"Sleep, Opal," said Pholus. "We're safe for now."
"I can't. I'm sore, I'm worried about the village..."
"And you're not sure you can trust me." He lay back, under the rock, and folded his arms over his
stomach.
"I can't forget what you came into my tent to do last night."
"I didn't..."
"Oh, please. Don't deny it. You didn't even bother to get your pants."
He sighed. "What did you expect when you came with me? When did you think you were
going to sleep?"
"I don't know. This isn't rational, alright? I'm having trouble sleeping with you here."
Pholus moved like lightning. His body pinned her against the dirt. His thigh, as thick as a tree trunk, pressed against her sex. His hand clamped over her mouth, and his voice felt hot in her ear. "If I wanted to rape you, I could have done it whenever I wanted. I could have done it back at your clinic. Things would have been a lot less complicated if I had. Instead I'm leading you across three hundred miles of the worst terrain in the world. We can't even use roads. Telling me you don't trust me isn't exactly going to make me the most grateful guide in the world, now, is it?"
He released her and rolled back to his side of the rock. She lay panting, trying to calm her hammering heart.
"Don't...ever...do that again."
"I won't. I have made my point though?"
"Yes." Opal rolled onto her side, away from Pholus, pulling her legs up protectively.
Get your head together, Opal. This is no time for a breakdown! For now, at least, he's not going to hurt you and you need his help. You have to find a way to trust him.
Opal steeled herself and uncurled, stretching out and returning to her back. "So, um... where are you from?"
"What?"
"I'm making small talk. I'm trying to get more comfortable around you."
"Oh." Opal felt Pholus shrug. "I was raised at an orphanage in Nevada. When I was twelve they sent me to military school. They called me a ‘discipline problem.' There was never any question about joining up when I graduated."
"What do you do for fun?"
"Fun? Sims. Football. Cards. Usual stuff."
"You have a girlfriend?"
He snorted derisively. "No."
Opal turned to face him. "Why not? You're a good-looking guy. You ought to be able to get any woman you want."
"We're pretty busy. No time."
"What do you want to do when you retire?"
"Retire?" He shrugged. "That's a long way off."
"You don't want to settle down somewhere, maybe raise a family?"
"What is this, some kind of proposition? I wouldn't be a good husband and I wouldn't be a good father."
"Why not?"
"Because I kill people. It's what I do."
Opal lay back in the dirt. "You're not making it easy for me to trust you."
"I have to be a father type for you to trust me?"
"No, but..."
Pholus rolled onto his side and fixed his gaze on Opal's. "Listen to me. I don't know how you managed to make your command stick, but now that I've got a mission, I'm on it. I won't do anything else until it's done. Right now, you can trust me better than your own mother, but I can't do this job right unless you figure that out."
Opal nodded.
"Now sleep. If you don't get some sleep, you're going to slow us down. I'm not going to do anything."

One reader says of Centaur:

Average Customer Rating

Number of Raters: 1

06/21/2007 Centaur is good stuff: nice dialog and characterization, very satisfying sex. I think I can say without spoiling anything that the power dynamic between Opal and Pholus is slippery and interesting. I hope the author considers writing more (and longer!) works with the same characters.

(This is taken from the Extasy Books website before the redesign)

"Our Robot", Nobilis's previous work, is an erotic science fiction novella set in a near future where robots are starting to appear as personal servants - and sex toys.

It can be purchased here.

EXCERPT:

The robot lay prone within the storage box. It didn’t look much like a robot. What it looked like was a woman. A woman with unnaturally huge, gravity-defying, wet-dream breasts. Her auburn hair, staring blue eyes, lacy French maid costume, and power cord running into the wall made no impression compared to those breasts.

“Robot, huh,” I said. “Housework?”

“Yeah.” Bill wasn’t looking at me as he scratched the back of his head.

“My guess is that it did more than housework.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re a robophile,” I spat.

“If I was obsessed with it I wouldn’t have left it in the box since the first day I met you,” he said softly.

“But before that?”

“Yeah. It was a sex toy.”

I sighed. “Certainly is a looker, isn’t she,” I said sourly.

“Not my idea. I won it in a bet.” His voice was tight,tense.

“She knows how to do housework?”

“Yeah. Cleaning, laundry, that kind of thing. It can warm stuff up in a microwave but don’t ask it to cook.”

“Turn it on.”

Bill bent over the robot and reached down behind it. He straightened up again and said, “Tootsie, stand up, please.” The robot’s face took on a faint smile and she climbed out of the box and stood up.

I looked at him with a cocked eyebrow. “Her name is Tootsie?”