Elle Fitz pens lesbian love novel as first book
Some people are afraid even to kiss and tell. Elle is not afraid to do and tell about a whole lot more than kissing. The first book from start-up marketing guru, Arielle Patrice Scott is the shocking relationship novel, The Story of Dice. She is a brilliant marketer and after reading the excerpt it will be clear that this book is not a hard sell. Just in case your book is though, she has published some tips on Forbes.com to help out.
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The Story of Dice is about a fashion blogger who cheats on her husband with a dangerous woman.
It’s a gritty love story about sex, power and manipulation.
It began on an innocuous anniversary flight to Hawaii. Several thousand miles in the air, Elle Fitz and her girlfriend wrote their versions of how they met. Over time their differing stories evolved into the relationship between characters, Dice and Gwen. And, those accounts became The Story of Dice.
Elle says, “I never planned to write a novel, it was something fun between my girlfriend and I. Soon I realized there was so much material, I had to give it to other women like us”.
Excerpt
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The girl reached out to grab her cup of coffee. Her hands cupped it for warmth, as well. As she took her first sip, her face turned and twisted to endure the grit of the sugar.
“Thank you,” she said.
“No problem,” I said watching her drink and grimace more. I abruptly took her cup to the sink and poured the liquid out.
“Wait! Why did you–”
“Let’s be honest here. You obviously don’t like coffee,” I said making my way back to the door.
The girl looked back at her feet giggling to herself, “No, it’s just it’s really cold and I –”
“Besides — ” I said both interrupting and getting closer to the girl. I took the sheet from her, placing it on the floor. I put my hands on her bare thighs. They were cold, the coffee did nothing, my hands were always so cold. I allowed the little heat available to transfer from her to me, hands on her thighs. The girl gasped from the icy touch, finally holding her head up to make eye contact with me “– coffee is bad for you.”
Staring into her eyes, I must say, I enjoyed watching the girl wince. I brought my mouth to her ear, breathing softly into it. I could feel her breath on the left side of my neck and my collarbone. She was breathing at a much faster pace than I. So I lingered a bit, taking in her smell, then smiled before speaking.
“Jennifer,” I spoke slowly, “That’s your name right?”
“Yeah,” she said.
“Your Daddy ever touch you when you were younger?” I asked.
Her breath picked up an inhuman pace, breathing hard onto my collarbone as my hands stole the heat from her thighs and my mouth spoke softly into her ear. My body hovering over her, keeping her in place.
“What! No! –” she said quickly, “– why would you say that?”
“Your Daddy…” I said slowing my speech further, making sure to mimic her
earlier softness, “Has your Daddy ever fucked you?”
“You asked me to, last night. Baby Jennifer. Last night, you called me Daddy. You
screamed at me, my little Jennifer. You begged and screamed and kicked for me
to fuck you and you called me Daddy,” I said.
My hands were still cold so I gripped her thighs harder. I moved further to the back of her thighs to discover more heat, sandwiching my fingers between her thighs and the chair and pressing deep into her with my thumbs. Her mouth shot darts of breathy pressure against my collarbone, her chest moved at an equivalent
rate to cope with the breathing.
I kept my lips at her ear. She hadn’t answered any of my new questions.
“Jennifer.”
She said nothing.
“Dirty little Jennifer,” I said maintaining the softness, “Now why would you do something like that, my dear little girl? Why would you ask me to make dirty impossible unholy love to you, just like your adored Daddy would. Just like our little Jennifer would want. Our dirty little Jennifer touching herself during commercial breaks thinking about her Daddy after school as he came home from work”.
“It doesn’t matter, because you called me Daddy and I acted accordingly,” I continued, “Just like you would want it. I was your Daddy last night, little Jennifer, little baby Jennifer, wasn’t I? Just like you asked. That’s why you’re here, right? Right, my little Jennifer. That’s what you said last night, you called for your Daddy as I fucked you, my little girl. My sweet dirty little girl.”
“But sweetheart, I’m not your Daddy,” I said.
I stepped back and laughed. I stared at her, her face red and her eyes blinked hard and fast to keep her from crying.
“My father has and never would do anything like that to me!” she screamed.
“Oh c’mon!” I laughed, “Calm down, gorgeous”. I picked up my coffee and resumed my naked lean against the door.
“Don’t cry! Listen, I had fun last night, don’t look so scared. I’m just joking. I thought the whole Daddy thing was funny, you just kept saying it, you were obviously a little too drunk.” I said, still laughing at her expression. I spoke in my own tone and ended the voice mimic, “I had fun.
Anyways, I have to head for work. You gave me your number last night, right? I’ll call you.”
She hastily reached for her underwear and jeans below the chair, not looking at me but sniffing hard and loud.
I left her, making my way to the closet.
I turned around right as she grabbed the doorknob, “Oh and Jennifer, when you do that thing. That thing where you gush to your friends about the crazy wild thing you did the night before and you one-up each other to show just how wild you can get and it’s your turn to speak and you drop the girl-on-girl card, make sure to tell them I fucked you hard. Real hard, they’ll appreciate that.”
I entered my closet; eventually I heard the door slam behind her.
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Get the full first chapter here: http://storyofdice.com
