Erotica Harem

MY COMMENTS WILL BE ** RED:
MY SUGGESTIONS WILL BE BLUE
REPEATING WORDS WILL BE underlined and bolded

Title: "Invalid Item"  (Signed, Sealed and Delivered)

Chapter: (Chapter 2)

Author: Carol McKenzie

Plot: Plot is at the forefront of this chapter. Janelle is leaving Phillip (and good riddance to garbage like that too). Grrrr… Get that cowboy over to kick him in the knackers with his pointy-shoed cowboy boots! Phillip will be singing country songs all right. Okay, I’m vicious, but men should not hit women. Then again, women shouldn’t hit men either!

Scene: We were in bar, and I didn’t feel lost. To me, I received enough information to feel comfortable. The one thing I might suggest is to give a basic outlay of the bar itself (where the stage was to the dance floor). When they were up dancing, I wanted a basic direction as to where Janelle and Clint were (that dark and cozy place) as compared to the where Kyra was sitting and watching them.

Character Development: You’ve introduced Clint and you’ve offered only subtle hints about him, which intrigues a reader, making them more interested in getting to know him better. Janelle and Kyra came across really well again. You also showed that Janelle is starting to have a great backbone.

The one thing I have to mention is that Janelle asked Krya to go to the bar to discuss one very important aspect (and in fact, chapter one 1 ends on that note). The divorce! Here, you barely mentioned it. I wanted to see some surprise, or shock from Kyra when Janelle just comes out and says, “I’m getting a divorce.” This was imperative to the reason Janelle agreed to go to the bar in the first place. Just something to think about.

Grammar: Please see below. Please use whatever you feel is right for you.

Just My Personal Opinion: This story is taking off very well, Carol. You’re drawing the reader into Janelle’s world, and the major change she’s about to take. I only hope I get to finish this one. Prettttttty please!

As well, having read and reviewed Chapter Two before, I really prefer this version. You've taken out a lot of unnecessary information about her getting dressed/ready, walking to Lonnie's, the guy getting out the truck in front, etc. You stepped right into the scene at the bar and dropped us directly into the story. Well done.

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Please remember that these are only my opinions.
Please use whatever you feel is right for you.
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When she saw Kyra at Lonnies Bar and Grill her lips curved and she rolled her eyes. Kyra, a sophisticated woman who had flawless milk chocolate skin, looked absolutely stunning, as usual. She wore her raven hair streaked and up in a haphazard hair style that come dangerously close to looking like what some people call "unkempt." Others may call the style chic. Stud earrings glittered her earlobes. When Kyra saw her, her brow rumpled as she approached the table.

Janelle wore tight jeans and a blue top that perhaps showed more cleavage than she felt comfortable with. She peered around at the long, narrow barroom with its colorful jukebox, long lighted bar and bandstand at the end where five musicians prepared to play country music.

"Those men are eyein' you," said Kyra, (comma) looking in the side pocket of her handbag. She motioned toward the bar with a movement of her head.

"It doesn't bother me in the least. I guess that's what men do, isn't it?" (remove extra line) Janelle asked. A lone laugh left her lips.

"They sure do."

Janelle gave the men a furtive look.

"Did you drive?" Kyra asked as she popped a breath mint into her mouth, changing the subject.

"It's only four blocks. I like to walk--it's invigorating."

"You must. I don't do it unless I just have to. The last time I walked, (comma) I had to. I had a flat tire."

Janelle laughed after she took a chair from the next empty table and sat down. "It's the perk of living in a small town. Everything is close and besides, I get exercise."

"It's supposed to rain."

"Actually...I brought an umbrella." She put her purse under the table near her feet." (more space needed here) As far as exercise goes, I hate it, with a capital H. But footin' it is the most desirable form. I can't see myself doing aerobic workouts every day."

"Me either."

The evening passed quickly. They each ate a fish platter, with broasted (broiled, roasted (?) I’ve never heard of broasted, but that doesn’t mean anything) potato wedges and coleslaw. (one word) and shared a … (?) They shared a pitcher of beer. Afterward, they gazed at people and commented on their dancing ability, or lack thereof, sometimes giggling and speaking in hushed undertones out the sides of their mouths. Janelle spoke to various people she knew from work and town. A dozen or so people, whom she did not know, stood around gazing, talking and laughing at and with each other.

The stranger, who reminded her more of a Caucasian cowboy god of some kind, caught her eye again. * Okay, in this version/rewrite, you don’t make mention of a cowboy catching her eye, so you might want to reword to “just caught her eye” and delete the “again.” Her breath caught in her throat. He stood near the dance floor sipping a red drink. The corner of his lips quirked up when he saw her. His eyes took in her body as she passed him (?) on her way back to the rest room. Twice, it happened. When she arrived at the swinging door that led toward the ladies' room, she glanced back; much to her horror she discovered that he was still staring at her. (?) gazed in her direction. and she hadn't signed the divorce papers. Just a suggestion. The heat of his stare raged through her. I haven’t even signed the divorce papers yet.

Toward the end of the evening, after exchanging several long glances, it seemed she blinked and he disappeared. Where have I seen him before? she kept asking herself.

"Who on earth are you looking for...or at?" asked Kyra, concerned. Her eyes narrowed on Janelle's face, her chin rested on her palm.

Leaning, she reached for her handbag, (comma) readying to leave. "It's no one."

"Huh."

"It's true."

"I know you."

"Don't be silly, Kyra."

"It was It’s that white guy who wears cowboy clothes, the one across the room. He’s had your attention all night. (?) , didn't he?"

She raised her shoulders in a shrug of innocence. "I've no business looking at him. He's just eye candy. Nothing more. I'm not dead downstairs, you know...I can still look." She paused thoughtfully, determined to change the subject. "Kyra, have you ever considered getting a lawyer?"

"Many, many times."

"So have I. In fact, I'm at that point now."

The moment the band quieted, the lights brightened a notch, Kyra sighed in obvious frustration. "Why haven't we followed through?" asked Kyra. "Are we just gluttons for punishment?"

"It's fear of the unknown, maybe."

"Maybe I, or we, need, you know...motivation."

"What do you mean?" asked Janelle.

"I need to catch him in some bitch's arms."

"In a way, like tonight, I feel like I'm cheating on Phillip, but I'm not. Isn't that crazy?"

"Not really. It sounds like you're separating yourself from him. It's probably a natural occurrence for a woman when a couple divorces."

Before Janelle could respond, she realized the man in question stood behind her. In fact, he stood less than three feet away. his luscious cologne wafting through the air around her. (?) She smelled his luscious cologne, She turned her head, (comma) and peered up into his gorgeous chiseled face and frowned in horror. * Why would she frown in horror? He's Gorgeous. Perhaps she blushed, or widened her eyes in shock at how better looking he was close up? (Just a suggestion, mind you)

A smile quirked his lips. "Care to dance, Ma'am?" he asked in a deep, rich tone, reminding that reminded (?) her of Garth Brooks. She noted his white Stetson, the tight jeans, a silver belt buckle and western shirt up close this time and forced her line of vision toward the bandstand. * Ahhh, can’t he be Tim McGraw?Okay, I’m not too familiar with country music, but Garth Brooks does nothing for me. Now Faith Hill’s husband…(Tim) be still my heart. Tall, dark, handsome with the cutest, tightest butt. Wait, I have to wipe the drool off my chin.

She had noticed six or seven other interracial couples dancing and sharing drinks. Torn up upon receiving the request, she sliced, diced and micro-analyzed the possible implications of dancing with him, since she was a married, black woman and he was a good-looking cowboy. My, my, my.

Kyra seemed to notice Janelle's shock. "Don't keep the cowboy waiting, Jan."

What will people say if I--damn it! She whispered up to him, 'I uh, am married. I--uh--don't know if--"

"It's fine if you don't want to Ma'am. It's just that I--I thought you may want to dance."

"Okay, thank you."

When he extended a hand, she rose from the chair and let him escort her to the floor where he drew her close, so he could wrap her in his strong arms. When Janelle got a chance, (comma) she peeked Kyra's way she and noted that her friend sat at the table open-mouthed, gazing her way. This is more or less repeating what you said earlier… “she peeked Kyra’s way”

The cowboy put his hand to her side and curled his fingers around her waist, touching the skin below the lower back of her sweater. A fraction of an inch of his rough palm touched the sensitive, bare skin above the waistband of her tight jeans. Repercussions ricocheted through her body then traversed on to her nerve endings.

The band played a slow, quiet country tune. His body moved against her to the beat of the song, adding to the sexual unrest she began to feel in divers' places. * Divers’ places? You got me on that one Carol. The corner of his cold, silver belt buckle touched her tummy, making her shiver.

Because women from a nearby table peered in their direction, she stiffened, got a firmer grip on reality that she barely knew him, he was white and backed away an inch. I believe I know what you’re attempting to say here, but trying to fit it all in one sentence is confusing for me. Perhaps: Because women from a nearby table peered in their direction, she stiffened in his arms. She got a firmer grip on reality, and backed away an inch. I don’t even know him, for goodness sake. And he’s white! No one else seemed to notice, though.

The female lead singer belted out the lyrics, "If lovin' you is wrong, I don't want to be right."

The closeness continued. His chin touched her temple. She loved the scent of his cologne and enjoyed being held (passive voice): enjoyed the warmth of his arms and how she gently wedged into his hard body. (?) in his arms, gently wedged into his hard body.

"By the way, my name's Clint Sutherland," he drawled into her ear in his a Texas accent drawl, cutting into her lusty thoughts. "Nice to meet you, Ma'am." After a thoughtful pause, "What's your name, if you don't mind me askin'?"

His manners, (comma) as well as his hot breath tickling her ear, caused her heart to flutter/pound against her chest. * When Clint said her name, he already brought her “out of it,” so this is kind of like repeating the same thing here. took her back. "It's Janelle," she said (no comma) in a soft voice, realizing that perhaps he probably didn't hear her.

"What's your last name, Janelle?"

"Banks." [stays together] She cleared her throat and swallowed hard.

[New line] After a few more bars of the song, he peered down at her lips. "Are married?" he asked, his tone deep. and inquisitive (?)

His hand rose up her back, dragging a bit of the midriff sweater with it, baring a scant inch more skin upon which his pinky finger rested, (comma) sending distracting sensations shooting throughout her body. His flat hand and splayed fingers rested outside her sweater, over her bra strap. In a comforting way, he held her to his chest, compressing her breasts between them. When his hand moved up and down her spine, an inch in each direction, it took her breath away.

Finally, (comma) she remembered to answer his question. "Yes, I'm married."

He swept her in two flourishing circles, carrying them away from a bottleneck of dancers to a more vacated area. His dance steps made her dizzy, so much so that she hoped she wouldn't stagger when the dance ended.

"I thought you would be married, a pretty woman like yourself."

"I'm getting a divorce soon, though."

Leading, he danced with her in one dark area as the band played a medley of slow songs. After the singers onstage bellowed out two or three bars of a touchingly sad song, he whispered in her ear, "Well, I'm not married."

I like the way he emphasized "not." Did Wait, do (?) his words have a dual meaning? (Italics) She gazed toward Kyra he peered at her from their table. She eyed them in return. I’m not sure what you’re saying here, Carol. Did she gaze at Kyra, and Clint followed her gaze, and Kyra eyed them back? That’s a lot of looking going on.

I hope that I don't appear I hope he doesn’t think I'm the type of woman …. (?) like the type of woman who searches for an extra-marital affair. (italics) "Are you from Riverton, Clint?" she asked with strength she did not feel.

"I bought some property south of town. I intend to buy some more and settle down. Get a job."

She nodded once. "Oh?"

"For starters, I bought the old Mitchell place south of town. I'm fixin' it up and am plannin' on sellin' it next year. I'm thinking about buying a business of some kind, too."

They stepped together, slow and easy ... (?) Slow and easy they stepped, shifting their weight from one side to the other, still staying in the dark area of the dance floor. The third song blended into the fourth and she felt secure and loved, (comma) all the while knowing the that this closeness would end soon. (?) closeness would end.

The singer mentioned cheating love and asked in an agonizing cry, "How can we go on together livin' these lies?" They The band sang a sad song and the words played on her emotions as the stranger continued dancing with her to the beat. Enrapt in the Enraptured by the (?) words, the ending came, leaving her disoriented. Like a gentleman he thanked her, and continued holding her hand as he escorted her to her table. They parted and he disappeared.

* * *

"Do you know him?" asked Kyra asked when they met at the table.

"No. Kyra, I'll never see him again either " She sighed and said breathily, breathlessly You know me, Carol – I’d prefer not use a adverb. Perhaps “whispered”(?) "Oh well darn." Although Realistically, Riverton, has less than two thousand inhabitants. I’m sure I’ll run into him one day if stays in town, she mused (?)* Make this an inner thought? One day she surely would run into him if he stayed around town.

"We'll have to do this more often," said Kyra as they made their way out the door.

"Oh, I don't know--"

"I'll call you next Friday and see what you're doing."

"Call me tomorrow after work. I don't know what to make of this evening."

She said, her tone snarky, This opening tag does nothing for the sentence and, in fact, it halted me. Perhaps remove it? “I'll just bet you don't, girlfriend."

[New line] They giggled. "See ya later," they said in unison after as (?) they exited into the night air.

"I can give you a ride, you know."

"Nope. Thanks anyway."

Kyra pulled the collar up on her jacket and started running toward her car. "Ahh! It's starting to rain. You sure you don't wanna a lift (?)?"

"I'm fine. I've got my trusty umbrella." The rain dotted the road so she brought out the umbrella, opened it and strode home.

When she neared the cemetery a new, black Chevy pick-up truck slowed to a stop beside her. She saw the cowboy's face when the dark-tinted window whirred down. His eyes narrowed. "You always walk in the rain with all your friends?" * She’s alone. What friends?

She stopped and turned his way, and a smile quirked at the corners of her lips. A smile quirked at the corner of her lips. (fragmented sentence) "Actually...yes I do. She nodded. "I walk in the snow too. It's one of the perks of living in a small town. Residents have a short distance to walk in Riverton."

"Seriously, can I offer you a ride?" He raised a spread hand. "I insist."

"No. Thanks...really." His invitation embarrassed her. "That's all right. I'm almost there now."

"Okay then. If you're sure." A moment before the window whirred going up and he drove away, he said, "I enjoyed dancin' with you, Janelle. I want I’d like (?) to see you again."


* * *

The next evening, Janelle took a bottle of Gatorade from the refrigerator the moment Kyra called on Sunday evening. Phillip, (comma) who surprised her by being at home when she returned from Lonnie’s came home from Lonnie's the previous night, lay sprawled out on the sofa.

A football game blared on the television, so Janelle took the handset and plastic bottle filled with the blue drink into the laundry room and closed the door. The cat scratched on the door, (comma) so she let it inside too. She sat on the lid of a five-gallon (hyphen) bucket of laundry detergent in the dark. The room smelled of fabric softener. Barely, she could hear the television. The television was/sounded no louder than a hum.

"I came home last night and Phillip was in bed sleeping."

"How long had it been since you last (?) saw him?"

"A week. Nine days, actually (?) really." Vaguely* Try and avoid beginning sentences with an adverb. It chops the sentence. She vaguely (?) noticed that the game quieted in the living room. The television in the next room quieted. I would suggest removing this last sentence or the one before it because you are basically saying the exact same thing.

"What did he say?"

"He asked where I'd been. He wasn't too happy."

"Too bad. Did you ask him where he's been. The asshole. What'd you say?"

"The truth. I was out with you."

"Then what'd he say?"

"He fell asleep. It hasn't been brought up again, thank God. Hopefully he's forgotten about it."

"So have you changed your mind?"

"About what?"

"The divorce."

"No," said Janelle. She took a sip of Gatorade and put the bottle on the floor by her foot.

"What's stopping you?"

"Nothing. I'm going to the lawyer's office next week. Then I'll tell him."

Kyra sucked in a deep breath. "Shit. You haven't told him?"

"No."

After a thoughtful pause, Janelle asked, "How about you?"

"I'm scared. Here we are. We live in this small town. There's no place to work except the factory and those wages are not high. I don't want to move because my family's here. What the hell else can I do. I'm stuck."

"What if I got a divorce and bought Lonnies? What if I hired you as my main gal?" This is still Janelle’s scene/dialogue, so I would keep this together A long, silence followed. "Hello?" asked Janelle thirty seconds later.

"Are you serious?"

"I'm a hundred percent serious. I've been thinking about it since last night."

Kyra screeched with laughter. "How can you? that’s not enough time to think of such a big decision, Janelle. (?) And since last night's not very long."

"I've saved some money for a down payment and put it in a secret place. I'll talk to the bank after I've filed, (comma) and see if I can get a loan. How's that sound? I'm tired of the factory. It's a dead end job. I want to be my own boss. You can manage it for me."

"Me?"

"Yeah. It won't be hard. Schedule people, order stuff and make sure it's painted and repairs are made. (passive voice): repaired. (?) I'll see to it that we have music, meet delivery trucks and make all the other important decisions."

"It sounds good, but I don't know." Effectively She changed the subject. "What'd you think of the that guy?"

His hands on me, his words, his looks and his actions could easily make he hot as Hades. (italics) "He was...I dunno...fine, I guess."

"He sure had eyes for you."

"I can't think about him right now. Dancing with him, I dunno, was a mistake. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Just as she hung up, the laundry room door opened and Phillip looked down at her. In one angry motion he reached over and snapped on the light. "Hiding from me?"

"What's all this shit about opening a bar, huh?" he demanded, while baring his teeth. "Where's that money you said you had hid?" he asked, his biting/caustic tone showing his rage.

"I--uh—oh, (comma) crap no."

He grasped her shirt, (comma) and pulled hauled to her feet and slapped her hard across the face. (?) *To give better clarity of the scene and where he slapped her. her bodily up and slapped her hard. Whack! Her head turned in the direction of his moving hand. "Damn conniving, two-timing bitch!"

Her head flew to one side from the force of the blow; she dropped her plastic bottle of Gatorade. "Aaah!"

He shoved her back into the laundry room. (period) She stumbled and fell backward, hitting her head on a wooden rack. The world blackened.

Disoriented and confused, Janelle woke up minutes later, and moved slowly. She noticed a blue Gatorade puddle on the beige tile floor. With much difficulty, she rose to standing her feet, her head pounding with a horrendous headache. suffering from a horrendous headache. Has he done any internal damage, she worried past the pain. ? Internally? Had Did he break any of my bones? he broken any bones after he knocked her unconscious? Holding on to the wall and a chair for support, (?) she staggered to the bathroom and flipped on a light of the white and gold bathroom. * This is a pretty serious situation here. Do you think the reader wants to know what color the bathroom is? Inserting this draws the reader out of the intensity of the moment.

The mirror revealed a swelling, ugly, developing bruise over her right eye. He gave me a damn shiner! That prick (?) eavesdropped on my conversation with Kyra. He'd given her a shiner. Evidently he listened in on their conversation. [Stays together] "Ohhhh." The no good bastard!

Experiencing emotional as well as physical pain, * Show the reader this. What was she experiencing? Give facial descriptions, roiling of emotions, inner thoughts, etc. Janelle staggered about the house and discovered discovering that Phillip had taken most of his clothes, put them in laundry baskets. * How could he take his clothes if they were still in laundry baskets? He took CD's, his stamp collection and much to her horror, his Magnum .357 and holster.

Should I call the police? He acts like he's got a screw loose.

She walked two blocks to the hospital and had a doctor check her out for concussion, which later, Much to her relief, she was treated just for a nasty bump on the temple. The police came into the emergency room during the treatment and took a statement. She made sure they issued a warrant for Phillip’s arrest. a warrant was issued (passive voice) for his arrest. The next day she would file for divorce and take out an Order of Protection. Thank God he was out of her life!
For more of an impact on the ending, might I suggest:Tomorrow, I’m filing for divorce and an Order of Protection. You’re going to be out of my life forever, Phillip--the sooner the better! *Just a suggestion, mind you
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