The Doxy's Daybook: A Friday in Two Acts 
by Sable Jordan

Rosalind "Roz" Hayes was born to be a star, so when she chased her passion from her daddy's little clapboard church to the hustle and bustle of Manhattan, she expected to see her name in lights over the big city.  But Broadway's dark and dreary without the sparkling Julliard credentials to brighten the way.
Determined to let nothing keep her from her dreams, Roz writes a play of her own: a one-woman show where naughty fantasies are spun into filthy realities for private audiences throughout the city.  A show so wildly successful, it's been running for twelve years straight.
Until this Friday, when Roz becomes a costar in someone else's production.
Can our talented actress rise to the occasion, or will stage fright bring the curtains down once and for all?
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Warning: 18+ Only! This title contains erotic scenes, graphic language, anal sex, M/M sex, M/F/M sex, Cowboy sex, F/F sex, (sheesh, there's a lot of sex) umm...sex on a desk, sex toys, some light bondage, interracial/international sex, and a doxy with a smart mouth. Yep, that should cover it.
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Excerpt:
Back on stage, I find Jackson in his leather chair, rocking back indolently, the black handset of the desk phone at his ear.  My eyes are drawn to the curled tether he winds compulsively around his finger while he and his Darla discuss plans to have the in-laws come visit.
"The kids will love having their grandpar--The zoo? Perfect."
He's looking at me and talking to her.  I can feel his hot gaze caress my skin while I busy myself with collecting the messed pages of my folder, a thick manila envelope slipped surreptitiously into a pocket.
The price of admission.
Another purposeful bend props my ass in the air while I return the first file to its place in the storage bin, the strangled breathing of my costar evident between the snippets of idle chatter.
"Chicken Florentine, was it?"--a shuddering exhale--"Uh huh..."
From the other side of the desk I face him again, reach for his folder, dipping lower than necessary and revealing the swell of my cleavage through the deep plunge of the blouse.  I mash my chest to the surface, and at his inhale I pause, look up at him from beneath my lashes; let my tongue do a measured pass of my upper lip.  His eyes darken as they follow the motion, stopping on the sight of the wet cavern of my mouth open in invitation for another filling.
The grimace on his face is that of a man struggling with temptation; very close to exchanging his not being able to get through the day for another visit to paradise. His cheeks flush, nostrils flare, breathing thickens.

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