INTERVIEW WITH SILKE MING
Q. Who is Silke Ming?
She is a lady who loves to laugh, and enjoys having her friends around.
Q. Why did you choose the romance genre for your writing?
I had always thought that erotic romance novels were written by older men hiding in closets, and was surprised to find out that most of the romance authors are female, who are proud of their craft. I really wanted to write Barbara Cartland type novels, but got a rude awakening when I submitted my first novel to several romance publishers.
Q. Why do you say that?
They had no interest in sweet romance novels, or as they so politely put it, they were not interested in purple prose.
Q. How many romance novels have you written so far?
Right now I’m on my seventeenth manuscript.
Q. And what are you working on? Or are you superstitious, Silke?
Let me put it this way. I will not walk under a ladder, nor will I allow a black cat to cross my path and I am always wary of Friday the thirteenth. However, I don’t mind sharing my WIPs. I am writing my first MM, and it surrounds a defrocked priest, and the second WIP is about a homeless girl who just happens to meet Mr. Right on a street corner.
Q. They both sound yummy. I can imagine how sinful they will be, but I’ve noticed that your books aren’t all about love and sex. You tackle some very trending matters.
A. Yes, I do. I’ve touched on subjects like female genital mutilation, a brutal practice of circumcising young girls, which is still being done in many parts of the world.
Q. Silke, what are your pleasures in life?
A. I am an avid gardener. As soon as the spring thaw is gone, I am one of the first persons out there trudging through the slush in the back garden. Traveling is my number one passion, gardening comes in a close second and lastly, cooking.
Q. You seem to have traveled extensively. Is there one place you haven’t yet visited, but would like to?
A. Bora Bora and the islands of the South Pacific.
Q. Have you any regrets about your life? Or is there anything you wanted to do or wished you had done?
A. I wish I had learned to play the violin. I envy people who took the time to learn to play the instrument, and are so good at it.
Q. Who is your favorite author and why.
A. I love the Austen sisters, Charlotte Bronte and Charles Dickens. I have been reading these authors’ books since I was a little girl and I have lost count of the times that I have read Jane Eyre.
Thank you, Silke. It was a pleasure speaking with you, and I wish you continued success on the path you have chosen.
Thank you, Elodie.
Katie waited nervously in the coffee shop for Bridges to arrive. Her long, red hair, cascading like a waterfall over her shoulders, swayed each time she moved her head. After waiting for close to ten minutes, she saw him approaching from the east side of the street, hard hat in hand. She remembered those broad shoulders, the sway of his hips, and the hollows his dimples formed when he smiled. Her heart flip-flopped in her chest and her palms became clammy.
Oh, God! One glance and she wanted him. The last time she’d seen him had been a few months earlier, and he’d had the same effect on her.
He seemed to be looking for the coffee shop, and when he saw it, he paused, waiting to cross the street.
Watching him from afar, she noticed the similarities between him and Mason. When they walked, it seemed as if they were the only men on the earth. She never took her eyes off him, and when he had the opportunity to cross the street, his pace quickened and he smiled, perhaps to a polite driver. He opened the door of the coffee shop, and she felt as if her heart had ceased to beat. Here was the man she had loved for most of her life, the man who had taken her virginity and had shown her the ways of the world. Here he was again, about to reenter her life.
Spotting her, he strode directly to her and sat down, not trusting himself to touch her. He gazed into her eyes and she into his.
“Hello, Katie,” he crooned.
Her panties were immediately creamy and wet. Moving uneasily in her chair, she greeted him.
“Hello, Bridges,” she replied, rubbing her sweaty palms on the knees of her jeans. She was nervous and it showed. “How are you?”
“I’m very well. No need to ask how you are. You are still as beautiful as the first day we met.”
That voice sent thrills up and down her spine. God, the man didn’t have to do too much to get her going.
“And you’re still as charming. I’ve already ordered. What are you having?”
“You,” he whispered softly. “Unfortunately I can’t have you, so I’ll have a double espresso. What are you drinking?”
“Mint tea,” she said, unable to tear herself away from his gaze.
“I miss you, Katie. I asked you this before when I saw you in Chapel Hills a few months ago. Why did you disappear from my life without a word to me?”
“Everything happened very quickly. My mother sent me to take care of Agatha. One thing led to another, and it all just progressed from there.”
“Do you love him?”
“If you are referring to Mason, the answer is yes. I love him very much.”
“Do you love him as much as you loved me?”
“I know what you want to hear, but it’s not a fair question, Bridges. You’re trying to paint me in a corner.”
“Yes, I want to get you in that corner, but right now I want to know how you feel about me, because I still love you as much as I did three years ago.” He reached across the table and held her hand. “Tell me that you still love me.”
“Yes, Bridges. I have always loved you, and will always love you.”
“Does that mean you’ll come back to me?”
“I’ll never leave Mason. I love him too much. You should get to know him. He’s a beautiful man.”
“I don’t understand where that leaves me.”
“Mason knows I still love you, and he advised me to talk to you about it.”
“I can’t live without you, Katie. The last three years have been hell on earth.”
“Why didn’t you search for me? Why did you marry someone else?”
“What was I to do? I thought you didn’t love me anymore.”
“Oh, Bridges,” she replied, squeezing his hand. “After I left, I was sure you didn’t care for me, and my heart ached for you. I thought how stupid I was to allow your brothers to take advantage of me because it was the only way I could get close to you.”
“Precious Katie. Is that what you did?” he asked, his voice making her panties wetter.
“It was the only way I could get into the Ridley ranch. Rock took advantage of it, and Jeff always seemed to follow him to get his share.”
“I’m so sorry, Katie. If there is anything I could do to undo all the wrong, believe me, I would.”
“There’s no need to worry about all that. The past is behind us, and I’ve found a man who loves me in spite of everything he has heard about me.”
She stared into those cool blue eyes and saw Mason’s face. It seemed as if she was doomed to spend her life attached to one or more of the Ridley brothers.
Their conversation was interrupted when the waiter arrived with their coffee and tea and an afternoon snack.
“Do you like working with Mason?”
“Yes, I do. I have responsibilities, but not as many as I had working with my brothers.”
“Why did you really leave the company?”
“There are two reasons. It became more and more difficult working with Rock and Jeff. They’ve really never grown up, and it was too much for me to shoulder the business alone.”
“And what was the second reason?”
“I thought of leaving on more than one occasion, but this time, I got word that another company was interested in me. When I found out it was Mason, I jumped at the opportunity because I knew a partnership in his company would bring me closer to you.”
“And now that you’re here in Wilton Park?”
“You tell me, Katie. I’m willing to settle for whatever you can offer me.”
“You’re a wonderful human being, Bridges. You deserve only the best.”
“I wish polygamy was legal in this country. I’d marry you at this very moment.”
“Don’t say that, Bridges. It’s not healthy to think that way. You deserve better than that.”
“Give me hope, Katie. No matter how small.”
“You like that?”
“It tickles,” she said softly.
He ran the feather over one nipple, and it immediately rose like a mountain peak. Circling it over and over again, he watched the heightened arousal on her face. He moved the feather to the other breast and she moaned, her hips moving gently in his direction. He ran it along her neck, down to her breasts, and up again.
“Still tickles?” he asked.
“No,” she said, shifting from side to side. “Feels like a creepy-crawly moving across my body.”
“And you don’t like it?” he asked, running the feather along her navel and above her curly mound.
This elicited only a groan from her.
He stepped back and stared at her, laid the feather down, and disappeared. Katie writhed, trying to free herself.
“Mason? Where are you?”
There was no answer, and after waiting for what seemed like ages, she called out to him again. “Where are you, Mason?” she shouted.
“Missed me already?” he whispered, putting a small container onto the floor and a shaving brush and razor onto the bed.
“Where were you?” she asked, trying to move her head to the side.
“I was looking for something.”
“Mason, please tell me what you’re doing.”
“You’ll soon find out, my love,” he replied, dipping the brush into the container and lathering her mound.
“What are you doing?”
“Just wait and you’ll see when I’m finished.”
“Are you going to shave me?”
“How did you know? Does it turn you on? I’ve wanted to do this for a very long time,” he said, pushing aside bits of red hair that clung to his fingers.
When he was through, he wiped away the remnants, removing any evidence of the fiery-red hair that once existed there.
“God, you’re beautiful,” he said, moving his fingers feather-like across her cleanly shaven mound.
He once again picked up the feather, his new instrument of torture, and ran it from her breasts, over her navel, and down to her velvety mound, his hard cock grinding all the while against her naked thighs.
“As smooth as a baby’s backside,” he said.
Katie squirmed and moaned as he returned the feather to her tortured nipples.
“No man can love a woman as much as I love you,” he whispered, laying down the feather and claiming her lips. “You’ll always be mine. Forever! I’ll share you, Katie, but I’ll never leave you.”
While he stroked that magnificent cock, he ran one finger over her bare mound, descending to her swollen nub of pleasure. She gasped as he possessed it, circling it agonizingly slow. She cried out as the euphoria overtook her body, and she begged for release, but he wasn’t ready to ease her suffering. He continued his torment, and she rotated her hips, clearly trying to get as much satisfaction as she could from the solitary finger that would conquer that elusive orgasm. His warm tongue lapped against her pert nipple, finally sucking it into his mouth, pulling it and extending that scarlet peak to its full length, and that single finger coated in her nectar found its way between her lips.
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