Excerpt & Giveaway - Claudine by Barbara Palmer

Claudine

Barbara Palmer

Maria Lantos has a secret. She’s a post-grad student researching early erotic literature at Yale who puts her studies to work after hours as a courtesan named Claudine specializing in erotic role play. Her allure and stock of sexual tricks command top dollar from international clients. When Maria receives anonymous text messages filled with chilling threats, she knows her secret is out, and someone is hunting her—someone who knows a lot about her past and who’s intent on playing a starring role in her present.

As Claudine, she loves the brief anonymous liaisons that allow her to explore the darker side of power and desire. But now it’s Maria’s turn. Two men—charismatic Yale professor Reid Whitman and her business manager, Andrei Barinov—will test the limits of her sexuality and safety, forcing her to discover the depth of the dark places within her.
Claudine combines the pace of a thriller, the deep emotional connection of a romance, and the heat of a beautiful woman’s sexual discovery.

Well, it is almost Friday!!  Are you all as excited for the weekend as I am?  I hope so!  This weekend I have a full weekend of back to school shopping and house cleaning - so I don't know what exactly I'm excited for LOL.  Anyhow!!  Today I have an excerpt from Claudine for you.  I haven't read this book yet, I'm thinking of reading it over the weekend.   But for now, here is a taste for you - and a giveaway!!!  So definitely be sure to enter that - and good luck!!

Don’t miss what Publishers Weekly calls a “splendid exploration of sensual performance” in this enticing debut erotic thriller…

     Show World Live! bore little resemblance to the infamous Times Square district Show World club; the original naughty venue was long gone except for a tattered storefront on Eighth Avenue. In contrast, the new Show World Live! was aimed at upscale customers and boasted glitzy lounges with hourly strip shows. Booth babies danced naked amid blue and pink bubbles in Plexiglas boxes. A tranny bar featured top-notch talent from the Bay area, and the porn cinema was made up to look like a grand old theater with plush upholstered seats and velvet curtains tied on either side of the screen. Claudine was booked to perform two vignettes at the coveted Saturday night show for ticket holders in the club’s famous Round Room, and after, a private performance for a select client. She’d decided on a straight old-time burlesque show for her first act, and Lillian worked wonders transforming her into a likeness of the famous burlesque queen Lili St. Cyr…….

     The lights dimmed. The performing area, a bare circle of blond hardwood, was illuminated by a spotlight that left the booths in shadow. A pink divan at center stage sat beside a table holding a fan of luxurious black ostrich feathers and an oversized perfume bottle, the old-fashioned kind with a rubber squeeze top. The master of ceremonies, a short sprite of a man
dressed in tails and a white shirt, strode to center stage carrying a gold-topped cane.

     “Ladies and gentlemen, may I present to you, from the white lights of Manhattan, for one night only, the exquisite, the infamous, Claudine.”

     For an instant, her stomach pitched in fear. Would her stalker be out there, watching from one of the booths? Would he be bold enough to hurt her in front of everyone, thinking to catch her off guard with a public attack? Andrei was stationed to one side of the entrance with a full view of the booths. As long as he was here she was safe. She calmed herself with that thought and the thrill that always came before a performance began to beat through her veins.

     The white-blue beam of the spot swept to the performer’s entrance. She heard the first notes of the music and stepped into the circle of dazzling light. Her platinum hair, styled in an updo,was cinched with a wide ribbon of black chiffon to match the flowing semitransparent fabric of her floor-length dress. It glowed under the lights. She wore arm-length kid leather gloves that fit like a second skin and flashy high heels.

      Parading to the music, she shimmied, pivoted, struck various cheesecake poses. She gave her audience a sinful smile, winked, and thrust out her boobs in full burlesque mode, running her hands tantalizingly over her cleavage. Turning her back to the viewers, she wiggled her ass and unhooked the skirt of her gown, tossing it aside. 

     The pleasure and playfulness of the dance gave her extra zing and for a moment she felt as though she could vanquish her unseen enemy by the sheer force of her sensuality. Only the long tail of chiffon and a tiny thong covered the crease of her bottom. She stepped saucily back into the spotlight, unhitched the tail and bent over so that her buttocks were on full display……..She kicked off her high heels, unfastened her stockings from her garters and rolled them down, slowly exposing toned thighs and shapely calves. She picked up the fan from the pink divan and, holding it in front of her with one hand, undid the eyelets of the bustier at her back with the other. She tossed the bustier to the floor, and squeezing her naked breasts together, dipped the fan down, revealing generous nipples glittering with rhinestone pasties. 

      The audience went crazy……Then, to the delight of the customers, she fanned herself as if she were too overheated to continue. She pranced around a little longer, making sure that each booth occupant got a good look at her full tits and her round tush in the tiny black thong. She returned once more to center stage, where she reclined languorously on the divan, giving herself a spray with the perfume. Every move had a comic edge but she knew the men in the audience weren’t laughing. She felt their breath halt, their eyes on her—and savored every moment of it.

The author is a bestselling, international award-winning Canadian novelist whose work has been published in twenty countries. She’s writing under the pen name Barbara Palmer, inspired by the famous 17th century English courtesan and royal mistress.

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