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Showing posts with label David Russell. Show all posts
Showing posts with label David Russell. Show all posts

Saturday, April 16, 2022

#SaturdaySpotlight is on David Russell & Pearlman!

Good Morning and Happy Easter Weekend!

Today's guest visited last month so please welcome David Russell back with his book, Pearlman. As we mentioned in David's last visit, although the excerpt is mild, David writes erotic romance so be advised before you buy. Take it away Dave....

This was inspired by a passage in the Spanish epic poem La Araucana, which I have translated. In the original story, a Spanish soldier, after a battle, is accosted by an Indian woman who asks him to lead her to her husband's body, to pay her last respects. In the original story, she disappears. In Pearlman the hero is contemporary, but he does time and space travel to those legendary times, and the woman turns out to be Auchimalgen, the Araucanian Moon Goddess. She seduces and enlightens him. There is a backdrop of Chile, with its incredibly volatile ecosphere and long history of protracted conflict. This story combines romance with sci-fi and time travel.

Excerpt:     Her skill in undoing my armour was worthy of any trained white man. “We are supremely adaptable; we learn avidly from those we observe and oppose”, she whispered, her teeth gleaming in her smile. As I saw the chain mail and the cuirass lying there, discarded, I saw that the rust had all disappeared.

     Deft hands tenderly peeled my sweat-ridden leather and cotton; it was lovely to be nursed without immediate wounds to distract from the exquisite sensations.

     “You must be proud of your exertions!” she said. The power in her words was akin to a duelling challenge. (The time warp flashed me into my happy collaboration with that beautiful fitness trainer, when I imagined that lithe, toned form excelling itself at the Olympic High Jump as her prelude to our delicious consummation.)

     I looked up towards her breasts, to see the matching metal, discs, chains, bangles – an array of gold, silver and jade; I sensed their resilience beneath their cover. She read my response with total ease; with a radiant smile, she whispered “do as you have been done by.”

     My hands trembled a little as I delicately negotiated the pins and clasps, but I succeeded in making a harmonious pattern of them, like a crown at the head of my discarded armour. It was good to have gained intimate knowledge of those metallic treasures in the museums.

     The face of a full moon, reciprocating its radiation on Tegualda’s face and eyes, beamed its glittering reflections, as if casting off a diaphanous robe, to reveal the perfect body of its illuminated rocks, bouncing back and forth around the elaborated grid of our variegated metalwork – steel, bronze, silver and gold – its luminosity almost suggesting that it would all come to life, radiant in the flames of their smelting, almost as two armies facing each other. In turn, the beams flooded our faces, giving an external flourish to our luminous vibrancy charged from within. 

    She took my hand, and made it caress her sealskin robe: “please do the honours”. I lifted it at the bottom. My hands reached up inside it until they could feel her firm but still slender waist. Repeating my earlier gesture, she raised her arms in surrender and conquest, the robe clouding into a transient veil over her noble features.

    Then Tegualda cast off her gleaming white cotton camisera for me with all the challenging flourish of a toreador. She tamed me and fired me simultaneously with her lovely self-revelation.

      The walls of my time-capsule were fractured. There glistened across the world, ricocheted back and forth across the centuries a composite of the world’s beauties, celebrated in poetry and song, painting and sculpture, melted, distilled and poured into one vibrant, impassioned, soul-suffused body. Egyptian and Grecian statues and mural figures melted into an array of Hollywood dream sublimities deeply embedded in my memory. This was a spiritual earthquake, embracing all history and culture, the distilled essence of all artistic striving poured into one giant goblet.

What People are Saying about Pearlman....

"Pearlman" by David Russell is an inspired work. It is fun to read, stimulates unconventional approaches to knowledge and scientific inquiry, and is written in language that is a feast for the senses."

Born 1940. Resident in UK. Writer of poetry, criticism, speculative fiction and romance. Poetry Collection Prickling Counterpoints (1998). Several poems published in Forward Press anthologies, and in International Times. Editor of Poetry Express Newsletter. Speculative fiction works High Wired On and Rock Bottom. Romance publications Self's Blossom, Explorations, Further Explorations, Therapy Rapture and Darlene. I am also a guitarist/singer-songwriter. My main CD albums are Bacteria Shrapnel and Kaleidoscope Concentrate; I have several tracks on YouTube. Find out more about David and his other books by visiting his GoodReads page and get your copy of Pearlman at Amazon or Amazon UK.

Hope you enjoyed David's visit and peek into his book and that you'll check back weekly for Wednesday Words with Friends and Saturday Spotlight.

Until next time, take care and God Bless.

PamT

Saturday, March 12, 2022

#SaturdaySpotlight is on David Russell & Self's Blossom!

Good Morning Friends,

If you read Wednesday Words with Friends this week you'll know it was a rough one and I'm glad it's over. Today's guest is brand new to me and our blog so please welcome David Russell with his book, Self's Blossom. 

PLEASE NOTE: Although this blurb & excerpt are mild, Self's Blossom is EROTIC romance.

A romantic, erotic tale of a vivid portrayal of the quest for the inner truth, empowerment and sexual liberation of Selene, a woman searching for primeval abandon and reckless adventure.
Intelligent, a university graduate and a successful careerist, Selene became emotionally scarred by unhappy relationships. Riled and taunted through the years by her former college roommate Janice,
Selene gave in to the long-term desire to "get one back" at Janice by having a passionate holiday encounter.

Immediately drawn to the sea and enthralled by its brutal yet sensual waves, Selene seduces a young boy on a deserted beach. Once she comes to meet the mature and powerful Hudson, Selene finally begins to claim her sensual destiny.

Through a slow process, accentuated by Selene's shyness, introspection and circumspection, she embarks on a long and elaborate interplay of leading on and rejection. The volcanic passion builds until there is a blazing row. A possible drowning, the final ritual undressing at long last, leads to the ultimate flowering of the woman Selene was meant to be.

Excerpt: Here, she was on a beach, pure and simple. Now the sea breathed heavily, whispering and murmuring to her. It was returning her stare, speaking to her. It was the spirit of love, beckoning her with a pulsing, sinewy body. In all its lines, shades, and fleeting forms, Selene saw the essence of pure beauty, all grace of form, flesh, limb and feature. It was in one, all the lovers of whom she could possibly dream, conflated into one elemental ideal. He, pure love in soul, bade her to enter his domain and make it hers. His arms moved her hands to unclasp, unbutton, and unzip . . . the blossom emerged. The sun became the eye of all that was not earth, and Selene loved fully, though the pallor of her skin left her momentarily abashed.

At first she lay in the tide's path, the top of her head at its most extreme mark. The sand bank made a soft bed. The sea lover smoothly caressed her calves, thighs, hips, breasts, shoulders, and cheeks before retreating to pause in his mossy pinnacles. Three times this action was repeated, and then Selene stood up, wading in with arms outstretched. Her arms were linked, as she stood up to her neck in the saline flow. The balls and heels of her feet wobbled, slithering on the moss. With the next wave, she lost her balance – her breath prepared in unison with the hissing around her. She threw her head back, once again horizontal, and launched into a backstroke, sweeping and circling. She parted her legs wide with each thrust of motion, each sweep of self-propulsion pushing out to answer the cavernous currents of his passion. Seven circles gave her a delicious, warm bliss – then the sea lover, well pleased, carried her back to a near-dry bed. Aching and contented, Selene dozed a while.


Born 1940. Resident in UK. Writer of poetry, criticism, speculative fiction and romance. Poetry Collection Prickling Counterpoints (1998). Several poems published in Forward Press anthologies, and in International Times. Editor of Poetry Express Newsletter. Speculative fiction works High Wired On and Rock Bottom. Romance publications Self's Blossom, Explorations, Further Explorations, Therapy Rapture and Darlene. I am also a guitarist/singer-songwriter. My main CD albums are Bacteria Shrapnel and Kaleidoscope Concentrate; I have several tracks on YouTube.

Find out more about David and his other books by visiting his GoodReads page and get your copy of Self's Blossom at Amazon.UK.


Hope you enjoyed today's spotlight friends and that you'll check back each week for another edition of Wednesday Words with Friends and Saturday Spotlight.

Until next time, take care and God bless.
PamT