Teaching a Techie Gardening . . . and More
The sex in my story came later. From the beginning, the university’s community garden aroused my imagination all by itself. A hidden garden of edibles, it was lush and unkempt, just as I describe in “First, Take Off the Hoodie.”
On Parents’ Weekend, we parents were shuttle-bused all over the Stanford campus to admire various projects, including out to a garage where students were tinkering with driverless cars. The cars were cool, though splashed with corporate logos like so much else we saw that day. Still, with twenty minutes to kill before climbing back onto the shuttle, I wandered off across the asphalt road and down a straw-strewn path, toward the murmur of chickens and scent of herbs.
And there it was: the community garden, with a weathered, hand-painted sign and no corporate sponsor subsidizing the lettuce beds and fruit trees. I breathed, I wandered. I almost missed the shuttle.
No one I spoke to that weekend had ever heard of the farm on The Farm, except for one faculty member who told me that the greedy, over-irrigated golf course threatened to consume that precious acre. Too much of the campus was already manicured and perfect. In a world that preferred virtual reality, that garden was real.
Real is sexy. So when I read Sandra’s call for erotic garden stories, setting my story in that bountiful, if disheveled, place seemed natural. Because the garden appealed to the outsider in me, I could easily imagine naughty goings-on there. Then I considered all the students–young men, specifically, techies, say–who had no sense of what they were missing. I only had to imagine taking one of those guys into the hidden garden and showing him how his senses could come alive there.
Excerpt from Fifty Shades of Green, “First, Take Off the Hoodie”
As I stared at the nude man, I became aware of tall, slim Brad beside me in his jeans and gray hoodie, aware of him as a separate person with a body of his own and his own perceptions, mysterious, unknown. My bare arm lifted itself away from the side of my dress, hesitated, then pressed up against his hand. I felt smoothness, skin that had never touched a shovel. Then the back of his hand returned the pressure, warm against my elbow.
The nude guy jumped lightly down from the tree and tossed me the last pear. Brad’s hand was gone, withdrawn and plunged into his jean’s pocket, his face averted. The nude guy slipped into a tiny pair of faded denim cutoffs, zipping them over his bulging crotch, and poked his feet into some flip-flops. His bike leaned against a shed with cracking red paint. Before he threw his leg over it, he nodded to a basket of bulbs on the straw-strewn ground.
“Wanna help out? You could plant the daffs.”
“Have they been properly pre-chilled?” I asked severely.
“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned before bumping away on his bike over the undulating path, the basket of pears balanced in front of him, his long hair flying back.
“Wonder what he’s going to do with the fruit.”
“Waste of effort.” Brad scowled. “All this. No wonder it’s a mess, most students don’t even know it’s here.”
I bit into the pear the nude guy had thrown to me. Warm, sweet, crunchy. “Intoxicating.”
I instantly, urgently, wanted to remove my clothes. I took two more bites and held out the pear to Brad, offering it in my right hand, palm up, fingers curled around the half-eaten fruit. I could see the blue veins in my wrist and wondered if he could, too.
“Eat. You’re supposed to keep me happy. That’s what the letter from the department said.”
While he bit into the pear, I unzipped my dress and let it fall, then kicked off my shoes. In my slip, I exhaled, closed my eyes, felt my bare feet flat on the warm, rough mulch.
Blurb and buy links
Fifty Shades of Green is a garden of naughty delights!
Within our pages you’ll discover:
– Virile gods and their mortal conquests.
– A community garden’s secret (and very dirty) fertility ritual.
– An Edwardian dominatrix living out her sadistic garden fantasies.
– Student/teacher lessons in horticultural hotness.
– Young lovers seeking the help of green witches.
– A beautiful, blind priest who helps an injured traveler.
. . . and so much more.
Peek inside the garden gate.
(You know you want to.)
A dozen racy tales await.
Fifty Shades of Green is a collection of twelve delicious and erotic short stories with gardening themes. What you’ll find in these pages is hotter than the hottest pepper on the Scoville index of heat! And smart, not smutty. Well . . . maybe a little smutty.
To Buy Fifty Shades of Green (it’s on sale, just for you):
Simone Martel is the author of The Expectant Gardener, a work of creative nonfiction. Her shorter nonfiction has appeared in Greenwoman Magazine, Greenprints, Soundings Review, Hip Mama, and Horticulture. Her fiction has appeared in Fogged Clarity, WomenArts Quarterly Journal, Magnolia, Fantastique Unfettered, Bacopa, and Main Street Rag. Edwin E. Smith Press will publish a chapbook of her garden-themed stories in 2014. She lives in Berkeley, California.
FREE Sample Stories!
To sample two free stories from Fifty Shades of Green visit our Garden Shorts website.
If you sign up for our newsletter you will be sent “Seed” (our sexy story about a community garden’s secret fertility ritual).
To read “Phallus Impudicus,” (a tale about the horny god Pan’s visit with a lonely gardener) just click on the Fifty Shades SAMPLE! tab
October 28, 2014 at 11:42 AM
Thanks so much for hosting us on this tour! I made one small error on the post–the link to the Amazon.co.uk should be http://www.amazon.co.uk/Fifty-Shades-Green-Cheri-Colburn/dp/0990538508/
Best to you and your readers,
Sandra Knauf, Greenwoman Publishing
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