Enjoy the excerpts below.
For more information on David please drop by his Goodreads page: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/10989.David_Russell
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Self's Blossom
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.
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Explorations
One of her closest friends, Debbie, managed a Retro fashion boutique, which bought and sold all manner of period gear as well as hiring items out for theatrical productions. She liked visiting there and rummaging around with the stock. That sense of history, of invigorating recycling excited her soul, gave her a heightened sense of her own glamorous potential. She could ethereally float, become some time-free being, flounce through history all over the world, alight on key times, exotic places and radiate her full charismatic glory. With it she would have generated the power to fly, borne aloft by the fabric rocket of her magic carpet, her enchantress’s cloak—looping back and forth, circumventing the secret corners of history, probing into prehistory, making forays into the future, stealing chips and snippets from the future to re-enlighten and restructure the past.After her swim, gym workout, game of Badminton, Janice liked to go to the cafeteria balcony of the Sports Centre and look down over the pool, regaling her eyes on the movements of those. Being of a shy disposition, when not in her self-assured executive power sphere, she never introduced herself to anyone, never chatted anyone up. In some way this was an advantage — she could see all those nice physiques in abstract,with all the annoying human aspects excluded — so she could savour a carefully-edited illusion of perfection. After a while, she started taking her sketchpad with her and did quick-fire studies of physiques in motion.
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Cedric savored the sight of graceful forms in the pool. He felt an affinity between the water and his pencil and brush strokes at the art class. As he went on watching and his reverie expanded, he felt that he was absorbed into the water, had indeed become the water, holding all of those forms in his all-enveloping embrace. He plunged down to the pool bottom. In his reverie he touched the ocean bed, chilly, tranquil in the depths, but on the surface drawn by the moon’s magic to surging horizontal floods, to leaping breakers aching to reach the moon, embrace the moon, draw it down to lighten, warm the icy depths
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