Sweat drops stream together down the dark muscular channel of his bare lower back. He is a man intent on his task. His back contracts as he strains in the sun. His rhythmic motion is slow and in time as if guided by an African drum. Sawing? Digging? Rowing? His pace quickens progressively. Clouds obscure the sun momentarily but the sun reappears even stronger. Suddenly, delicate Victorian hands grasp desperately on the pronounced ridges of his back. Her fingers straighten completely ridged patting his back for mercy. But this only urges him faster and more forcefully until he pauses fully flexed, relaxes then flexes again. He settles into her. His back rises and falls with each heavy breath. Her hands glide slowly up and down his dark, wet skin. Her long fingernails gently stroke his smooth, brown flesh with gratitude.

(Excerpt from the novel – Queen of Passion – to be finished 2019)