Sayara-St-Clairby Sayara St. Clair

Summer loving, short and sweet.

I was nineteen and it was the summer of…quite a while ago. At the time I was one of those shy, studious, responsible types. Okay I’ll just spit it out—I was a nerd. There, I said it. And sadly, I didn’t have a boyfriend. To be honest, I’d never had a boyfriend. And I imagined it would be rather nice if I did.

One Saturday night, I was at a nightclub dancing with friends and I noticed this guy standing on the sidelines staring at me. Because I wasn’t used to being focussed on in such an intense manner, I surreptitiously looked behind me to see if he was checking out some hot chick that was dancing behind me. Nope. Turns out his laser stare was in fact directed at me. Wow. I may or may not have wiggled my hips a little more vigorously at that point.

He came over and I got a good, close look at him. Holy hell! Tall, built, blonde with an incredible smile and gorgeous green eyes that were the color of the sea in some exotic locale that I had never personally visited. I have a thing for green eyes by the way. It’s quite a serious thing. Anyhoo, he was looking at me in this strange way, like I was his long lost someone–or–other. (I’ll explain more about this later). So we talked. I said some stuff. He said some stuff. No idea what; I was too busy staring into the depths of his sea greens. Luckily, I did manage to comprehend that he’d asked me to have lunch with him in thirty–seven hours. He didn’t word it like that of course, but I was counting.

So now I’m going to get to the good bit. I’ll skip over lunch because you know, more talking and staring into eyes while desperately trying not to drip spaghetti sauce down my chin. We ended up in the park next to my University. I was on a break between lectures, so that was the obvious place to go. We found a lovely spot under this huge tree, but not long after, it started to rain. Everyone else got up and made a mad dash for shelter. Gorgeous Green Eyes took my hand and pulled me up. And it was like some kind of electrical current ran between us. It sizzled up my arm and popped me right in the chest. I have no idea where he got popped; I never asked. We both stopped and just stared at each other. Now, I’ve read about this phenomenon (electrical currents, not staring) in romance novels, hell, I’ve written it myself. But I’d never believed it was real until that moment. And so I, studious–nerd–person suddenly pulled out a husky voice from, I don’t know where, and said, “So maybe we could just stay right here.” And Mr Electric was right on board with that plan.

Hands linked, we slowly lowered ourselves to the ground, and before my butt could say, “Hi there big ol’ tree root,” he was kissing me.
Oh my, I can barely find the words.
It was the most incredible thing I’d experienced in the not quite couple of decades I’d spent on the planet. It was just the two of us all alone in the park; sheltered by the thick canopy of leaves, rain pouring down around us. He kissed me and kissed me for such a wondrously long time. There were fireworks and thunder and lightning. Oh wait, that was the storm. But honestly, it was very, very good. I felt like I was floating, slightly delirious and generally going out of my mind.

When I finally ran into my microbiology prac class, my friends descended upon me en masse. They quizzed me about what the heck I’d been doing, all the while brushing their hands over my person. I wondered for a split-second if I was looking particularly sexy that day, since all of a sudden, everyone seemed to be touching me inappropriately. However I realised what was going on when they started picking twigs and bits of grass out of my hair. So while we went through the monkey-grooming ritual, I told them I’d been lying in the park working on my tan. I don’t think they believed me for a moment. Perhaps because it was pouring with rain? Or maybe it was the bee-stung lips that gave me away? Hey, bees hang out in parks, don’t they?

Anyway, Lip Lock and I spent seven wonderful days together. He was visiting from another country and was on holidays for only one week. We never did anything more than kiss and you know, roll about in the grass and stuff. What? I hear you screech. I know, I know. Remember me? Shy, responsible person. I wanted my first time to be with someone who would stick around. Don’t worry; when I think about it, I feel like kicking myself upside down too.

At the end of the week, he…wait for it…asked me to marry him. Well, he didn’t exactly ask me. It was more like he told me how it was all going to go down. He planned to go back home, find someone to manage his business and then he would come back and make me his wife. It’s lucky he didn’t ask, because by that point I was incapable of any sort of response. My brain had totally short-circuited. What? How? Why? Are you freaking crazy?

But, here’s the reason I believe he asked—ah, I mean told—whatever. It’s something I promised to explain when I told you he was looking at me all weird-like in the nightclub. Turns out, that when he was a boy, his grandpa had a calendar in his work shed. You know, the kind of calendar old Pops would keep out there so grandma wouldn’t know about it? Apparently it featured a woman from a different country each month. And what I’m guessing is that they weren’t wearing their national costumes. So when a younger version of Tall Blonde and Let’s Get Married saw one particular woman on the calendar, he said to himself, “When I grow up, I want to marry a woman who looks like that.” And lo and behold, I looked just like Miss July. So he probably fell in love with my long, curly hair. Perhaps my bushy eyebrows? Not so much my winning personality.

To wrap up this short and sweet summer memory of mine, I have to tell you that, no, I did not marry this man. However, sometimes—on the odd occasion—I find myself wondering if he’s still kissing someone, the way that he kissed me. Sigh…

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Meet Sayara St. Clair:

Sayara St. Clair has a Science Degree, majoring in Microbiology and Biochemistry. Working in both the fields of Serology and Tissue Banking, she got to do lots of cool and sometimes slightly weird stuff. She was employed as the Manager/Buyer for Furniture Retail stores, where she had a chance to unleash her inner Interior Decorator. And for a time, she taught English to students in Asia. Now she’s a writer and has discovered it’s her favorite thing to do. She’s also learned that writing sultry, romantic fiction, is so much more fun than writing dry old scientific journal articles.

When she’s not writing, she may be most commonly found on the sofa reading, in the kitchen baking or in the garden planting. She loves eighties music and is prone to spontaneous bouts of dancing.

With regards to vampires and chocolate: She bites one on a daily basis and has had a lifelong obsession with the other. And she’s not telling which one’s which.

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Sayara St. Clair’s Web Tracks:

Website | Facebook | TwitterGoodreads | Amazon Author PageEllora’s Cave Profile

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Sayara St. Clair on All The Things Inbetween:

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Sayara St. Clair Books:

Hurt-Me-Heal-Me-Stroke

Hurt Me, Heal Me Synopsis:

Dante’s Purgatory, Book One

After the death of her Master, Caitlin Bennett discovers years of sadistic cruelty at his hands have made her a slave to pain. To orgasm, Caitlin needs the type of extreme agony few responsible Doms are willing to inflict, especially Doms like Paul Nelson. Offering nearly everything she craves, Paul’s perfect—except for his aversion to the whip.

Paul refuses to hurt Caitlin, instead attempting to retrain her with patience and trust. But the longer she suffers from a lack of release, the more she’s convinced her mind and body are irrevocably conditioned. And Paul has precious little time to convince her otherwise. Waiting in the wings is a newbie Dom determined to have Caitlin for his own…who’s learning the whip just for her.

She’ll soon have to choose—the man who can give her what she wants? Or the man who can give her what she needs?

Inside Scoop: Caitlin recalls scenes of abuse that could disturb the more tenderhearted.

A Romantica® BDSM erotic romance from Ellora’s Cave

Purchase Hurt Me, Heal Me:

Amazon | Ellora’s Cave

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Reader, writer, gamer, nerd, and kpop lover; Ms. Ali Cat lives deep in her own imagination within the grand city limits of San Diego, CA. A proponent of afternoon naps, kitten cuddles, and hashtags, she will be voting: #COFFEFFORPOSITIVECHANGE in the next presidential election.
Hashtag: #SummerMemories – Summer Loving, Short and Sweet by Sayara St. Clair
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