Denys, Jennifer - Friendly Seduction [Friends and Acquaintances 2] (Siren Publishing Classic)

Friends and Acquaintances 2

JENNIFER DENYS

Copyright © 2012

Prologue

The eight–foot-tall robot grabbed hold of the stunningly beautiful young woman, who screamed for her life as she tried in vain to escape its many undulating tentacles. Her long honey-blonde tresses floated behind her as the machine pulled her inexorably forward toward its hard, metal body. As she struggled fiercely, its hold on her tightened with an impenetrable grip from which she was unable to break free. Holding her fast, a tentacle suddenly snaked out, and without a second thought it tore her flimsy pink frock with one rip from her ravishing body. Ignoring her cry of dismay, it slowly studied her naked form. It had a steely unnerving look on its metallic face as it looked her up and down, pausing interminably at her chest as her sumptuous bosom heaved in terror. Then she could stand it no more, and raising a hand to her forehead, she swooned. The robot then lifted the limp naked woman and moved relentlessly into the spaceship. The door of the ship closed with a heavy resounding clunk, leaving the stunned man rising from the ground where he had been thrown some twenty feet away, unable to save his beloved…

“Ha, ha, ha, ha…” The laughter that started as the man began to read got louder and louder. Finally lifting a hand
to
wipe the tears from his face, he began to calm down. “Oh that’s a good one, Matt. Really good. Really
awfully
good.” And with that, he dropped the book back on his table with a thud.

“Not you as well! What sort of a friend do you call yourself?” Matt was getting annoyed with Sam. He crossed his arms in irritation. “I spent months on that manuscript, and it’s been panned by readers and critics
and
best friends alike.”

Sam leaned forward to rest his arms on his knees, his humor abating. “Oh come on, Matt. You’re a good writer, but do you really expect me to take
this
seriously?” He indicated toward the incriminating book on the table.

“Well, yes. Actually I did.”

“But it reads more like a cross between porn and a sci-fi spoof—unless that was your intention?”

Matt frowned. “No—o. But my editor told me to add romance into my stories. He said sex sells, and sells well, so I need to add some more into my books. He also said we need to get more women to read my stories, and they like some romance.”

Turning to his distressed friend, Sam clarified, “Yes, but you need erotic romance, not porn. If the robot had developed any emotional attachment to the heroine other than lust, it might have worked. And as for your language…
Beloved
?
Swooned
? Don’t make me throw up.” He picked up the book again to check something. “
Hard, metal body—
it’s a robot. It’s supposed to be hard and metallic. I thought you were a better writer than that.”

Ignoring Matt’s increasing frustration, Sam continued. “And another question. Why isn’t she wearing any underwear when the robot tears off her clothes? Her very insubstantial clothes I might add. Come on, man. Women will laugh this off the shelves.”

Matt was fuming. He hoped his so-called best friend would be more sympathetic but at the same time was annoyed with himself for the problems with this book. His four sci-fi stories had sold reasonably well—not best sellers, but they did okay. He was in his early thirties and had started writing professionally two years ago, having been intensely bored in his job for an ad company. Despite these good sales, his editor had told him a few months ago that he needed to spice them up more, had insisted on it actually. In fact, he had told Matt he needed to add some women to his stories in the first place as he had a tendency to just write about the adventures of his heroes and their enemies, all of whom were male.

There was a very good reason for that—Matt had no idea how women’s psyche worked. Every time he attempted, he couldn’t get into the head of his female characters, so he had given up including any. Bringing his thoughts back to his friend, he asked, “So what do you propose?”

Sam stood, moving swiftly to his bookcase, and after a moment’s browsing, he brought back a couple of his paperbacks, which he handed over. Matt looked at them—they both had half-naked people entwined around each other in erotic poses on a background of deep space. The titles were
The Pleasure Planet
and
Space
Courtesan
.

He frowned. “You want me to write one of these? I don’t write this sort of book,” he added, dismissively flinging the books down on the table to lie alongside his wretched offering.

With his hands on his hips, Sam continued, “That’s the problem. You need to add more elements of this sort to your story. I’m not saying write a romance. Just add more to your books.”

Glancing up at the man standing in front of him, Matt intoned in despair, “You know I can’t write romance. I’ve tried it before.” He dropped his head into his hands. “In fact, that’s what I tried to do with this one, and it clearly didn’t work.”

“Okay, so we need to find a way to help you,” Sam stated decisively, his chin in his hand. He mused for a moment as he sat down again.

Matt stared at him with disbelief. There was no way in a million years he was going to write an erotic romance.

“Why not talk to a few female friends and find out what they read, and if it’s romances—particularly erotic romances—then ascertain what works for them in those books.”

He goggled at his friend. “You’re kidding me! I have to talk about these things to
women
?” His voice rose to a squeak on the last word.

Sam chuckled. “Yup, got a problem with that? You do know some women, don’t you?” he asked patronizingly.

Glaring at him murderously, Matt declared, “If I don’t kill you before I leave here, it will be a miracle.”

His friend laughed louder. “I know you hate the whole dating game, but you must know
some
women.”

Matt rose to his feet and paced. “Of course. But I’m not going out with a girl just to take her to bed and then showing her out the door while saying, ‘What part of what I did worked for you?’”

The laughter got worse. He scowled and crossed his arms angrily.

Looking up at Matt’s clearly angry face, Sam calmed down and said, “You could try talking to Jessie.” He referred to his wife. “She adores reading erotic novels. It was these types of books that brought us together. She reads tons of them. In fact, why not talk to her group of friends which includes your cousin, Gina?”

He stumbled while pacing. “Gina! How did she get to know Jessie?”

“They met at the wedding. You brought Gina as your plus one, remember, to avoid having to ask any proper date to the wedding. Well, as it happens, they hit it off, so Gina invited her to join her Friday night champagne evenings, which is where she is tonight.”

“Her what?”

Sam chuckled. “They have what they call Champagne Fridays. Rebecca and Ellie are part of the group. You know them, don’t you? I believe Rebecca is an old friend of Gina’s. I dread to think what the group—about six or so—talk about. Us guys probably!”

Pushing a nervous hand through his already-ruffled light brown hair, Matt cried, “Oh God—I can’t confront all of them in one go! And not Rebecca—Jon might be able to handle her, but she scares me.”

Laughing even louder again, Sam responded, “Yes, you can. You write about guys getting into all sorts of adventures, fighting hostile aliens, dodging ray guns, stranded on jungle planets, running from giant reptiles. Be brave like them.”

Matt gave him another look—this time one of exasperation. “No.”

Sam chuckled again.

Shaking his head emphatically, Matt paced again while he thought through his problem. “I’ll just talk to Gina or maybe Jessie by themselves.”

He ruminated further to himself. He could cope with one woman but not all of them, or possibly just Gina and her flat mate, Lissa. Yes, Lissa. She was very sweet and pretty. Actually she was more than pretty. She had a lovely heart-shaped face and turned-up nose that he found adorable. He smiled to himself. Every time they crossed paths she blushed and often stammered. And yet he had heard her having perfectly normal conversations with other people. It was a shame because he wanted to get to know her better. He’d never understand women.

A groan left him—how on Earth was he going to write about them if he didn’t understand them? He was in deep shit. He blamed his editor, and he blamed Sam, who was sitting on the sofa with a huge evil grin on his face.

Once this book was done, he was definitely going back to the adventures of Jerry and his nice, safe, all-masculine adventures.

In the meantime, he snatched up the two books Sam had offered as examples and strode out of the apartment—with his friend’s laughter following him.