Sunday, February 23, 2014


Hours of ladies and lads in encounters of time are ripe for the picking.
Time’s ticking…, let’s begin.
A.H. Scott massages the hourglass with “Her Time Is Now”; an anthology of sweet and spicy tales of temptation.
Each hour of fantasy, another couple reclines upon the clock of comfort.
As the seconds pass, perspiration and exploration ascend to titillation’s ticking.
“Her Time Is Now” is where the ladies take the lead and a bow.

“Nora At Noon” – a wife’s bringing of a bag lunch leads to explosive results for she and her hubby.

“Olive At One” – more than martinis get shaken in a lunch between a secretary and her boss, as there’s a stirring going down.

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Monday, November 25, 2013


Brian fell in love with a dream.

Yet, the fantasy was a nightmare, because this woman was not what she seemed.

Her name was....."Sangre".

A.H Scott takes you into a new dimension - "Sangre (Daughters Of the Rose Moon)"

Excerpt - “Valeria, he told me he loves me” She gave a proud smile in acknowledging that miracle “We made love” Blissfully recalling those moments of magic “I left him sleeping in bed and went into the bathroom” Visibly showing Valeria the bane of despair, she pulled up her pink cotton tee shirt, “Then this, Valeria”.

Having to see Sangre’s flesh for what it is, Valeria placed hand over mouth, “Does he know?”

Sangre hated to admit the truth to anyone, but had to tell everything to Valeria, “When the sun rises” Inhaling the air, as if courage were in the wind, “He will”.

Valeria knew Sangre better than anyone. She’d seen the tears and fears of this young woman in all its’ vividness. Event of this night was the last thing she ever wanted Sangre to have to deal with, “My heart is with you, dearest one” Placing Sangre’s smooth hand in her wrinkled one, “Get some sleep and things will be as they should be in the morning”.

“I just wanted….” Sangre looked downward in a pause and said a trio of words she never thought would come from her lips, “…To taste life”.

“And, you have, sweet Sangre” Valeria stood up and lifted Sangre upward also. She softly spoke to her, “Rest your eyes and your mind”.

“You are right, Valeria. Everything will be as it should” Sangre hugged her and rested head on Valeria’s shoulder, “I love you”.

“I love you, Sangre” Returning that hug and letting her go gently, Valeria traced both thumbs along those tear stained cheeks.

Sangre nodded and retreated upstairs to her bedroom for rest and a smidgen of solace.

Wishing to wash away the fiasco under a shower head, Sangre turned the silver knob to release a stream of warm water.

Closing her eyes as that liquid splashed against skin, she thought about Brian. His kisses, kindness and smile gave Sangre pause in her decision to leave him sleeping.

Wondering whether things could ever be normal between her and any man, suddenly was answered in a most unusual way.

Placing her hands forward against the white shower tiles, she began to second guess herself.

Holding head down and slowly opening eyes, Sangre’s choice was crystallized, as a stream of crimson color swirled down the shower drain.















"In the end........we are left with ourselves" - A.H. Scott

Tuesday, October 15, 2013


Justice is just right when a hero is in sight. When an honest man takes a stand, evil schemes don't go as planned. This is "Trouble At Timber Trail (A Russell Harmon Western)".

In 1863, a stranger in the tiny town of Appleton, Montana comes to the aid of the locals in their battle against a greedy land baron. When an honest man takes a stand, evil schemes don't go as planned.

The stranger was Russell Harmon, a drifter from back East.

Just looking for a fair day's work and a meal along the way; he and his old paint, Sugarfoot, are in the right place and time to save the day.

Everyone who came in contact with Russell Harmon called him Dusty. As for gallantry, this man's armor was never rusty.

Come along for the adventure in A.H. Scott's "Trouble At Timber Trail (A Russell Harmon Western)".

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Excerpt -....Riding through the town of Appleton, Dusty and his horse, Sugarfoot, stopped to wet their whistles. Dusty held a bucket in the trough to feed Sugarfoot. The water was cool and the air was dry. As Dusty sat on the edge of the trough, Sugarfoot guzzled from the bucket.

A sudden blast of screams from within the Jones Bank. It was Henry Jones and his assistant, Barney Smith, arguing with cattle rancher, Hiram Wilson.

Bank clerk, Barney Smith, wearing gold rimmed eyeglasses and grey pinstriped suit; made an attempt at standing between both older men.

It was a futile attempt at calming the situation.

Henry Jones, whose Jones Bank of Appleton was the heart of this small town; had a silver head of hair and expanding waistline.

Land baron and cattle rancher, Hiram Wilson. was slender with a trimmed mustache and tidy haircut.

Jones kept telling Wilson that there was no way that he would sell the property at Timber Trail. This property was recently brought by Jones for he and his Family. Timber Trail was located twenty years fro the cliff that overlooked Appleton. Watching like a mischievous child, he gazed at this explosion of vocal chords.

"What are you looking at pardn'r?" , Wilson screamed at Dusty with a growl in his voice.

Stranger in this town with ashy blonde hair and a fit build ran a hand along Sugarfoot's back, as he was roped into this argument.

"Hey Mister, I'm just soaking up the flavor of this town, that's all" Dusty replied with a smile on his face. Even Sugarfoot neighed at his response with a knowing glee.

"Walker!! Get the carriage! We're leaving right now!!" Wilson screamed at his ranch-hand. Willie Walker was short and slim, like a weed. His slimy grin and limp made him look as if he slithered.

Dusty watched as the carriage grew smaller in the distance. Henry Jones came over to Dusty with a grin on his face, "Son, you are one brave tadpole! I have never seen anyone tell Wilson which way is up, like you have! What's your name, kid?"

"I'm Russell Harmon. But, my friends call me Dusty" , he said with a wink in his brown eyes......- end of excerpt

Watch the trailer, "Trouble At Timber Trail" here on YouTube - "Trouble At Timber Trail (A Russell Harmon Western)"

Sunday, September 29, 2013


"The lies which we tell ourselves can construct a spine to the weak and a reflection in the mirror that masks a reality which we never wish to speak." - from the "Over My Head" saga, penned by A.H. Scott

Over My Head: Tightrope (BOOK ONE) -

Secrets are like a rash. Irritation. Agitation. Frustration. Yet, they always rise to the surface.

A husband's secret becomes a wife's gamble. Question is: Can a balancing act last forever? Or is trippin' just a price of marriage? This is "Over My Head: Tightrope", the first book in the four part "Over My Head" saga.

Larry & Angie made for a lovely portrait. Yet, fractures of their marriage weren't easily seen behind the gossamer veneer of charming smile and supportive caress. Puncturing the surface of this couple revealed a relationship not so rosy.

The lies which we tell ourselves can construct a spine to the weak and a reflection in the mirror that masks a reality which we never wish to speak.

And, to think - it all began with a single kiss.....


Over My Head: Inferno (BOOK TWO) -

Even the sightless can see themselves in the catbird seat......

Opportunities can be like balloons. Sometimes elevated by an optimistic breeze. Sometimes obliterated by arrows through burning trees. It all depends on who controls the air of effectiveness.This is "Over My Head: Inferno", the second book in the four part "Over My Head" saga.

The lies which we tell ourselves can cosntruct a spine to the weak and a reflection in the mirror that masks a reality which we never wish to speak.

A wife. A husband. A lover.

Devotion came in a single kiss.

Sex. Money. Power. Lies. Obsession. Murder.

No one gets out of this life without paying a price.


Over My Head: Haywire (BOOK THREE) -

Regret does not eradicate the past....

In life, sometimes a queen of hearts doesn't hold all the aces.

The lies which we tell ourselves can construct a spine to the weak and a reflection in the mirror that masks a reality which we never wish to speak.

Circumstances for Angela Chase change in a wave of catastrophic events. Can a wayward wife stay afloat? Or, will she drown in being "Over My Head"? This is "Over My Head: Haywire", the third book in the four part "Over My Head" saga.

A wife. A husband. A lover.

Devotion came in a single kiss.

Sex. Money. Power. Lies. Obsession. Murder.

No one gets out of this life without paying a price.


Over My Head: Salvation (BOOK FOUR) -

Love holds no sanity......

Love can make a man sacrifice everything for just the sake of being alive. Being cherished in the heart of the woman he loved was his only wish. Or, was this just a soul ensnared in the myth of love's dream.

Find out just how far a man would go for the woman he loves in "Over My Head: Salvation"; the stunning conclusion of A.H. Scott's "Over My Head" saga.

A wife. A husband. A lover.

Devotion came in a single kiss.

Sex. Money. Power. Lies. Obsession. Murder.

No one gets out of this life without paying a price.


Stop by and pick your copy of all four parts of the "Over My Head Saga" - "Tightrope", "Inferno", "Haywire" and "Salvation" from Amazon (worldwide) and Smashwords.

Over My Head: Tightrope (BOOK ONE)



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Over My Head: Inferno (BOOK TWO)



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Over My Head: Haywire (BOOK THREE)



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Over My Head: Salvation (BOOK FOUR)



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"It all begins between the ears." - A.H. Scott



Friday, August 23, 2013



Red dress and red stilettos cut through the muddle of bland colors of other travelers heading for their flights.

Pair of gold spherical earrings, gave Nancy’s ears the vision of golden gumdrops on those lobes.

As Nancy approached the TSA area to be checked in, she gazed up at the black and white clock upon the wall.

11:30 was the exact time, as she walked to where two TSA agents were situated.

It was a man and woman.

As Nancy stood there, two thoughts went through her mind. Wally Walrus and Cabbage Patch.

Balding man in his 50’s with dark brown hair had puffy bags under eyes and bushy moustache. Black cap for his uniform sat upon a metal desk in front of them.

As for the female agent, her appearance put a tiny smirk on Nancy’s face. She was a curvy little blonde with blue eyes and short curly hair.

Nancy’s slim frame with long, black hair pulled back into a tight ponytail made her the symbol of control.

Control was one thing which Nancy perpetrated in public. And, this moment was no different for her, “My name is Nancy…”

Black uniforms had a silver nameplate on right breast and black cap with blue lettering which spelled out TSA.

From head to toe, both were dressed in the color of authority and night.

Without letting Nancy finish to give them her last name, the balding male interrupted “…Yes, we know who you are, ma’am”

“How do you know who I am?”... end of excerpt

( see just how far TSA will go, pick up a copy of A.H. Scott's just released lyrical flow...)

Strap in for a tempestuous trip from the mind of A.H. Scott.

You can take off without even leaving the ground.

Now Boarding!! Now Boarding!!

This is “A Missed Flight”.

As Nancy saw her flight take off the ground, she thought it was missed. Yet, timing which seemed wrong, actually was perfect all along.

For a certain class of business traveler, pleasure is an unexpected coincidence.

Power trips.

Power shifts.

Ready for take-off?

!!An Amazon Exclusive!!











........pleasure is an unexpected coincidence.......

Wednesday, August 14, 2013



Author A.H. Scott Presents "Buckets Of Rain (Book One)"

Danger is closer than you think..........

Murder in a sleepy Michigan town leads to an investigation that uncovers a conspiracy just beneath the cloak of civility.

A couple attacked. Two lives destroyed. Truths become exposed in the harshest way to avoid.

When "Buckets Of Rain" cascade, illusions of secrets in life's blind spots begin to fade.

A.H. Scott pulls the trigger on a thriller that's truly a killer.

Even days when the sun shines brightest, "Buckets Of Rain" fall.

The most dangerous place to be is at the helm of hubris.

Excerpt -

Neither he, nor she knew of any persons that could be considered as enemies, yet this shadow in their lives, operated under the auspices of someone both knew very well. DeeDee's delightful dawn with Tang, became a verification of information that could be desperately desired by a sole person.

Male in late thirties with toothpick motioning back and forth, between his tight lips; made for a slightly frenzied sight to anyone on that road. Black suede jacket, blue tank top and jeans, made for a costume of plainness for him.

Armed with folders full of photographs and written items, this blue car made it's way to a Hoxeyville home. Aromatic flowers and neatly manicured lawn, greeted the solitary visitor of silence. Standing in the stately doorway, this man held several, medium sized packages under his left arm. Nearly one hundred and fifty pounds and height of about six foot, his personage was that of a finely fit pugilist.

Three bells sounded, as a thumb was pressed onto doorbell. Surprised at who greeted this person, it was need for a light phrase, "Must be the maid's day off".

In a single motion of a right hand, the occupant of this home spoke volumes with no words. Leading guest past several rooms on the ground floor, they made their way into a walnut paneled library. Closing double doors behind them, a smile came over this homeowner's face, "Is that what I think it is, sir".

Placing items onto mahogany desk, he replied, "It's more than you could ever expect to have".

"Beautiful place here" ,looking at the lavish decor.

"Come on, sit down and relax" ,chuckling genially at this man in his home, a slightly older male pulled out a chair behind this desk.

Slim fingers slowly tapped that ornate desk, as that wiry body sat down. Hands grasped both arms of this redwood seat, "I should have made my way out to these parts earlier. This is truly a home" ,gazing around this room, his eyes glistened with a sliver of resentment.

"How long have you been in town?"

"Long enough to start on your project".

"How's your father?"

"The old man's like leather" ,gently chuckling, he added soem pepper into the mix, "Tough as hell, but righteous for the right ground".

"And his son, is an admirable sort of lad".

"Coming from you, sir, that's a remark of high regard".

Knowing that time was of the essence, the core of summoning this younger man to his home came forward, "I place my trust in you, Mr. Arrington".

"Ooh, why so formal?"

"Because, this is business" ,a solemn stare came over him, while motioning an index finger towards Arrington.

Speaking of that, sir. I can remember a glorious dialogue you had in my neck of the woods, a while back" ,smirking, he continued, "You spoke about business being more than just dollars and cents".

"Hmm, that's funny, coming from you" ,sitting back in that chair, he chuckled and asked, "If you've learned anything from me, prove it, my boy?"

"Simply put, sir" ,repeating what he'd heard in a previous time, "Blood, sweat, and oh so many tears. It's what makes the machine keep on turning".

Motioning forward, he shook this younger male's right hand and spoke an apt word of praise, "Bulleye!!!"

Hoxeyville's mystery man, Gaylord Victor Arrington, could sit across the desk of a somewhat refined elder and give a smile of perceptiveness. Dark brown hair, slicked back in an almost wet fashion, gave this male of lanky physique a slithery complexion. This Valdosta, Georgia resident had an expertise that this homeowner desired to procure.

Loathing his given first name; propelled him in using the more apt calling card of Victor. The only people that uses Gaylord, remained both parents, which occured at those moments of family tension. Victor was what he wanted to achieve and with the assistance of present benefactor, thus, he would be that conquering namesake.

Born near the Florida border, in Iron City, to Webster Arrington from Rayle and his wife Harriet Cordelia Templar of Camilla, they lived in temperate comfort. Owning combination restaurant and dance hall, since winter of 1940, Bob's BBQ Barn maintained a bustling occupancy in Sylvester, due to it's close location to Turner Air Force Base.

Presently, a specific task was needed to be handled and Victor was more than eager to fulfill any duty. No price was too high and as for any ethical qualms, it took a paltry back seat in Arrington's mobile of arrogance. - End Of Excerpt

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..........strap in and let imagination take flight...............



Author A.H. Scott presents "Rack Em".

Excerpt -

Arlington Cross made a decision that would change the variables on those persons attending that August auction. Down to five people, Cross Collectibles' sale of those treasured items of Manon Balletti might have a higher worth to all whom were invited.

Pulling himself together slowly, Cross made his way back to the company of a pleasurable dinner guest. As the key opened the apartment door lock, he looked around the room.

With her back turned to him, Pao Tse-Ling cheerfully made a greeting, "I was just looking through your musical albums, Arlington. You're a quite devoted listener to the finer melodies of the ages.”

"Pao" His body motioned slowly towards her, as Arlington's sore flesh attempted to project a state of normality. Cross didn't want his dinner guest to unmask the actual physical reality that befell him inside of Cross Collectibles.

Stream of dark brown hair moved as Pao turned to face him, "Arlington?" Wrinkle of concern came across that serene swan, "My God! What happened to you?"

Cross slumped against a cream colored sofa and sighed with sorrow, "Just a little accident, is all,” Playing the strong, romantic lead in this evening's supper with a glistening pearl of China, Arlington put up a brave front for her.

"I'm going to get you something for those bruises,” Feet marched into kitchen, wetting a cloth towel and returning to him, "Just come and sit down on the sofa.”

"I'm fine, Pao,” Shrugging with indifference to being under another human being's care, trying to wave her away.

Tse-Ling wasn't going to take no for an answer, "Cross, now's not the time to play the hero,” Smirking in disbelief over his feign words of feeling fine, honesty drizzled to him, "Putting it bluntly, Arlington; you look like you've been hit by an eighteen-wheeler truck.”

He relented and sat down onto the sofa slowly. Pao began dabbing bloodied flesh with yellow cloth. Wincing from her gentle touch, Arlington wished he'd gone to the hospital for a check-up before coming home, "Oh, ouch!"

"Don't worry, Arlington,” Tenderly whispering to this wounded eagle, she placed the towel onto the cherry wood, coffee table, "You're in good hands.”

"Such gentle hands, Pao,” clasping her hand within his, gratitude gloriously flowed, "Thank you for caring.”

Rising upward, Pao Tse-Ling snickered downward, "Oh, this isn't being done especially for you, Cross. Even if you weren't the man whose auction will place those sweet gems into mine,” Left index finger began to outline his face slightly, "I wouldn't wish any being to hurt.”

Sore right hand wandered up to her left and held it to be kissed once, "Benign and beautiful. What more can anyone expect from you, Pao Tse-Ling?"

"Arlington, you might just be surprised" Pao bent down towards him and returned that smooch to Cross "Moments of mirth" When those tender lips met his, Tse-Ling was slightly taken aback by her own actions.. She was a woman who'd previously shied away from displaying affection. Alas, with Arlington Cross, motion and emotion took hold of Pao.

In an attempt to stand up, Pao Tse-Ling placed both hands onto the table edge and head towards that coffee table.

Arlington touched Tse-Ling’s soft, right hand, "Pao? Don't do that" Trying to seize those movements by her.

"Do what?” She could not look him in the eyes, as a sprinkle of shame washed over her. Pao Tse-Ling had taken a step over the line of interludes and interactions with a business associate.

"Don't hide your desires,” Wishing to have those lovely, brown eyes to look into his once more, Cross caressed this woman's shoulders, "Joy comes in the twinkle of your eyes looking into mine, Pao.”

Flattery warmed her, as she turned to face the Texas tornado, "You are quite an extraordinary man, Arlington Cross.”

"As you are a brilliant bijou of rare quintessence,” though still in obvious pain, he stood upright with this gentle gem in his arms, "A woman with a kind heart, can heal any wound.”

"Including yours?” Chuckling in a mixture of concern and relief over this turn of events on a Vancouver evening, Pao Tse-Ling cradled his left arm in hers.

"Without heaven's doubt,” physically not on the surest of footing, this man remained erect. His tussle with Moss became just a bitter figment of moments past; "An angel touches me, right now.”

"If I am an angel, Arlington,” Tse-Ling's slim fingers tapped along Cross’s chest tenderly, "Then you should consider the moon and stars my necklace.”

Reaching down and pecking that soft hand, Arlington became quite bashful in Pao's presence. Embracing and locking lips, both knew this evening would turn out very differently than they'd planned.

Arlington's bedroom may have not been a palatial location that his guest was used to. But, it contained a singular item of unimaginable grandeur, a large bed.

Black comforter with white and red swiggle design across it came to be an invitation to a tango of oncoming temptation.

Canvas shoes of green, made tiny steps across the bedroom floor, "So, this is the alchemist's arena?" Ling's mouth formed a grin at Cross, as his left hand slid the light switch upward.

On the left side of the bedroom, a bureau of dark red color had several things lying on its counter. Comb, brush, square mirror, and a pile of papers, made for a messy sight to any visitor.

The bedroom's opposite side had a brown trunk with copper fixtures upon it. And, an oak table situated directly next to it. Topping this structure was a turntable with a glistening sliver of vintage vinyl.

Arlington Cross selected an apt tune for the evening's premiere performance. Album on turntable, he placed silver arm and needle into its minute groove.

Frank Sinatra's tempered tone and Nelson Riddle's orchestration gave breath to this maudlin sliver of wax from 1958. Seven tiered diamonds next to Sinatra's face of Pagliacci regret, gave any person lucky enough to hear these fourteen tracks a twisted heartstring. First movement began to fill this Vancouver bedroom with "Frank Sinatra Sings for Only the Lonely.”

Concept albums of varied artists were just another chic sprinkle of diamond dust atop the world of collectible's dealer Arlington Cross. Trinket treasures being sold onto the Canadian and international markets nicely twinned to glistening gems of melodious magic.

Sounds of Sinatra's soul wrapped around Arlington Cross, as a memory of Pao Tse-Ling's lips reminded him of a sunny day in May. Even standing in his bedroom on a warm August night, she was a special being that brought a moment of bliss to Arlington.

Motioning around to face his guest, he was greeted with a wonderful sight, "Oh, my.”

Pao Tse-Ling's emerald dress floated downward, as manicured fingernails unzipped it. Bra and panties of sea-foam hue, gave that silky skin the wrapping of a jade treasure.

Slowly making his way towards her, Cross’s hands waved against delicate shoulders, "Behold, a gem in my lair.”

"One which cannot wait for a humble jeweler's stamp of certification,” Head stretched upward in a kiss to this wounded man, Tse-Ling whispered, "An inspection by you, would be more than suitable,” Using a bit more strength than usual, Pao pushed him into a seated position, "You just let me handle you, Mr. Cross.”

Thrill of making love to Ling, vanished in an instant of throbbing discomfort within bruised flesh, "But, Pao, I'm not,” Arlington began to think about his ability to satisfy this woman on a Vancouver summer night.

"Cross, you're a man in need of healing. Let me tend to you, tonight,” Handling him with care, she ran fingers through his mixed hair and calmly remarked, "I can't make the bruises go away,” Circling thumbs lightly on Arlington's forehead, "But, I'll try to minimize the pain.”

Becoming more relaxed with every rounding of a thumb on forehead, Cross chuckled ever so slightly, "Hmm. And, how are you going to do that, m'lady?"

Reaching down and unbuttoning his shirt, she slowly revealed that right shoulder into the light. Mixed colors of red and bluish green took up a space of about the size of two American half dollars. Brown eyes viewed this unpleasant sight of soreness, as a slight silence overtook her. Pao's cape of charm returned to full flourish within seconds.

"Like this,” Light pink lips tapped along the periphery of that shoulder, making a final touch with tongue tip at its bull's-eye, "This also, kind lord,” Mouth moved from shoulder to side of neck, as a trio of smooches met their target of Tse-Ling’s desire, "I want you to lay down for me, Arlington.”

Being tended to with such gentleness, Cross couldn't resist a little needling of this beauty in his midst, "It's nice to hear the pearl wants to take control of this night's situation.”

"It's not for my need, Mr. Cross.” Without a doubt aroused by him, Pao Tse-Ling had another reason to get this man onto a bed. "It's for the benefit of you.” Watching him laying flat on that bed, the explanation became clearer, "To relax your muscles.” Taking his shoes off and placing them under the bed, as he laid on powder blue sheets.

Laying there in black pants and socks alone, Arlington's stomach revealed a bruise the size of a Bosc pear, a quarter of an inch from his navel, "You could relax the knottiest enigma known to man, Pao.”

Bending her body over him, Ling licked that fruit shaped sore spot on Cross’s flesh, "Every knot can be untangled,” Starting to unbuckle his belt, pleasure would be theirs for the night, "Just relax and let me show you just how gentle I can be.”

Small hands worked zipper and charmed a cock out of white boxers. Pants off and boxers tossed onto a chair in the corner left Cross wearing socks alone. Each exhale of his awakening cock in her mouth, gave Pao a power over Arlington. He grasped comforter with childish glee and howled, "That's so good.”

"I hope so, Arlington,” Continual sucking of cock and caring for those balls, she knew he was ready for the next stage of healing. Taking bra off in a quick unhooking, Pao's palms rubbed against her breasts. With every motion over those nipples, they came to attention for her.

In this army of arousal, all of this woman's arsenal would be used for conquering him. Light green panties were twirled around left index finger and flicked onto the chair that held his boxers. Pao's flesh soaked in the light and a man's gaze of desire.

Mounting him lightly, she wiggled about on that suddenly throbbing piece of meat. His cock became consumed beneath a warm slot of sweet essence. Feathery fantasy atop of him, took Arlington to a place he'd thought was beyond his clasp. Tse-Ling's cooing and supple snarling added to this duo's titillation.

Playfully nibbling on his left ear caused a rigid cock to bang her pussy even harder. It was just the effect she desired most. Pao's pinky nails began to dig into her mate's sides, getting another reaction of heightened excitement from him.

Arlington Cross could feel a river building inside of himself, as its rapids raced to culmination. Pao Tse-Ling didn't wish to wait any longer for him to ejaculate. A trick of tawdry wares appeared in her actions with him.

Back arched slightly backward, those painted nails reached behind her bare ass and firmly squeezed those spongy sapphires of manhood. Cross moaned in a stew of ecstasy and minute agony. As Pao silently counted the number of ten, his balls were freed from a clinging grasp of fingers.

He was almost there. Yet, the moment was incomplete. She would make it happen, one way or another.

Cock cramming into dripping pussy several more times over those following moments, caused both to howl in lustful joy. Tse-Ling's expansive membrane of pleasure moved back and forth with him inside of her.

Light as air, Pao moved off of him and knelt on the edge of that bed. Waiting for him to explode, pink lips opened and closed slowly.

He came. And, she was the recipient of his life-stream against her quivering bottom lip. Kneeling there, Pao was a masterpiece of sensuality.

Arlington's sore flesh had been blunted by a turbulent fuck in that apartment. Tse-Ling's care was just what Cross needed.

Ancient secrets and techniques that Pao Tse-Ling used on many partners came from several memorized pillow books that she reenacted.

Papyrus to rice paper, and parchment to gold leaf, those tender fingers handled many a journal of decadence. Demure eyes of dark brown widened with every fluttering of a delicate lash, while consuming those varied expressions of imagery.

Aspects from Asia, invoked a special place in Pao's mesmerized mind and prickling pussy.

Becoming an aficionado of Shibari and Shunga didn't hurt the image of a world wise woman of countless coital compasses.

Ropes could bind flesh of a willing soul. Yet, also free oneself onto a roundabout of rapture. Escalation of ecstasy occurred with every tightened twist of twine around a limb or torso. Suspension by restraint always remained one of Pao’s propitious positions. Those venerable procedures in divine darkness were Pao's private vocation of victorious arousal.

She smiled and dressed in under ten minutes, as he sat up in that bed, "Pao, don't leave.”

Zipping green sleeveless dress upward, Ling fixed her hair to a proper appearance, "Oh, Cross. You need to get your sleep, sir. My work here is done for tonight.”

"Maybe you can stay until morning,” Slighting covering satisfied staff with portion of a blue sheet, this happy man was full of joy for her.

"Ah, Arlington,” Brushing left hand over his face, those brown eyes twinkled, "Predictability can be boring.”

How appropriate that final track of “Gone with the Wind" was, for this pretty pigeon was about to fly Arlington's finely feathered nest. Fathoming how right she was with that statement, he began to chuckle, "And, Pao, you are anything but that,” feeling romance was about to fly away from his fingertips.

A musical zenith tracked this evening's events, as Sinatra's final song titled "Gone with the Wind" seemed to fit this moment. Sounds of the orchestra behind Francis Albert filled the bedroom, as this pretty pigeon was about to fly out of Arlington's finely feathered nest. "And, Pao, you are anything but that" Cross understood what she meant by her words, as a twinge of romantic regret came over him. Bird of affection was about to take flight from his fingertips.

Nursing Arlington Cross back to health was the honorable thing to do by Pao Tse-Ling, "You need your rest,” that same virtue, also came into play of her business dealings with this antique dealer. She did have her own reason to get this man on his feet again, "And, besides I want you to be in top form for the auction, dear Arlington.”

After the run in with Moss earlier, he was relieved that Isaac would no longer be in Vancouver for an upcoming event, "When will I see you again?"

Her left hand tapped against the bedroom doorframe, as she grinned and faced him, "The 13th's coming up. You shall see me then,” Reveling in this man's attentive ways with her, Pao conveyed concern to a still sore Arlington, "Take care of yourself, Cross,” Hand waved in exit, "Good night, Arlington.”

Saying farewell, Pao Tse-Ling was out of that apartment within moments. Remaining seated on his bed, Cross heard the front door close behind a refined ruby of warm whispers and light touch.

Album finished, as did midnight's minuet of a jade jewel in the palm of Arlington's hands....- End Of Excerpt Romance Is Beyond The Bounds Of Time....

From a simple action in 1758 France, Manon was a woman who sacrificed her glittering bobbles to get a lover out of prison.

Seems like something so innocuous to lead to a modern day mystery. Yet, her name was Manon Balletti. And, the man who held her heart was known more famously by his last name - Casanova...

A.H. Scott sets the game of life on edge in the pages of "Rack Em".

In the world of international auctions, a Vancouver antiques dealer is at the center of an erotic & exotic quest for treasures from a pair of fated lovers of centuries gone by.

Global gains and ignoble games are the field which varied characters play upon in this contemporary romantic thriller.

Never had danger touched his life before. But, mystery landed on antique dealer, Arlington Cross' doorstep with the upcoming auction of some fabled objects of romance.

Captivating treasures from centuries prior have led many on a desperate sojourn to a Vancouver auction house. They all want their hands on these prized possessions of a passionate pair of lovers from long ago. Yet, some of the buyers have tricks of temptation up their silky sleeves.

When lust mixes with greed are just one of the balls that roll across the felt table of "Rack Em".

Rack romance. Rack treasure. Rack history. Rack pleasure.

Rack your nerves.

"Rack Em".

Purchase A.H. Scott's "Rack Em" for 99 cents at Amazon Worldwide & Smashwords :


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View the trailer for "Rack Em" here: Romance Is Beyond The Bounds Of Time - "Rack Em"

.......unlock Casanova's spell....