Erotica Harem

Title of Book: Selkie Tears

Chapter #: Chapter 3

Author: Dragon (Cassi)


My comments are meant in the spirit of helping us all become better as artists; never meant to discourage or demean anyone. Use what you like and toss the rest!) !!

Plot: Sean says goodnight to Dafydd and goes back to the house. Aran has fallen asleep in her studio on a futon. There are several more sketches of the naked man Aran saw on the beach, including images of the man transforming into a seal; Sean thinks Aran may have seen a Selkie. For some reason, he goes into the storeroom in the attic; there he discovers old photos of Aran’s family and an old journal. The discovery makes Sean think Aran’s clan are strange, all messed up. Sean gets a call on his satellite phone from his wife, Collette, who’s insistent he meet with her to sign some papers provided by a lawyer. The call has awakened Aran and she follows Sean into his room, where he’s trying to take a shower – she comes on to him, wanting comfort and pleasure. Sean pushes her away, though he’d want nothing more than to make love to her again as they were once married.

Style & Voice Aran’s character seems to be in a faraway land, perhaps from the medication she’s taking (typical with depression drugs, etc); Sean’s character continues to be strong and very likeable.

Referencing Scene inside the beach cottage; Sean going into the attic. I didn’t really “see” the attic – perhaps a little description, senses such as the smell of dust/musty since on the beach - would help put the reader in the scene?

Scene/Setting: Inside the beach house; Aran’s studio; sketches all around; the attic of the home where Sean finds old files, photos of Aran’s family.

Characters: Sean, Aran & Dafydd & Collette. We don’t yet see Collette since she’s on the phone – but the reader knows that Sean cringes when he speaks to the current wife.

Grammar: I’m marked suggestions as I would write/edit. In general, grammar is fine and I really like Sean’s voice!

Just My Personal Opinion: I’ve read this before and I like the ease of introduction you’ve made of the Selkie connection; more clear than the original version and the reader can follow; begin to believe. I think the attraction between Sean and Aran is palatable; steamy even – the reader wants Sean to make love to her! Excellent!



Dafydd refused to sleep in the house, (comma) stating the old sheep barn would suffice. When Sean bought the house, the old man offered to help him whip it into shape for Aran. He’d known her family for years. The sheep barn had become his home and the little room he slept in remained the way it was when he’d stayed before.

“Well, good night then, Dafydd.”

Sean entered the house. A dim light barely lit the house from upstairs. He smiled. She’s still drawing. Something sure lit a fire under her. Fixing himself a whiskey, he carried his glass with him as he headed upstairs.

“Aran,” he called out. There was no answer. She’s probably engrossed in whatever she’s working on. A soft, golden glow emitted from the studio. He stepped into the large room and found sketches hanging from every empty space in the room. Most were of the naked man in some variation or other. Some were of seals and others were of transformations of men becoming seals or vice versa.

Sean shook his head. Does she think she saw a selkie? He thought about the footprint he found in the mud. He chuckled, a nervous sound that seemed to slither around the huge area. Looking around the room, he spotted her sleeping on the futon under the window. Her face was smudged with charcoal and her fingers were black. He moved to cover her with the throw.

He set his drink aside and entered the storeroom at the far end of the attic. The unfinished space was crammed full of boxes and old furniture. Two metal filing cabinets sat where they were actually accessible in the crowded space. The drawer stuck when he tried to open it and he almost pulled the cabinet over on himself. A box sitting on top fell, hitting him on the head. “God damn it,” he cursed, rubbing his scalp and checking his fingers to ensure he wasn’t cut. (Cassi – it’s unclear to the reader why Sean went to the storeroom – was he looking for something? Just a little clarity here would not leave the reader questioning the resulting “find”)

He knelt, picking the items off the floor. There were old, yellowed photos and family documents written on parchment. Judging by the dull finishes, curling corners, and depicted clothing of the people posing in the pictures, he guessed they dated back to the early eighteen hundreds. After glancing through several of them, he set them back into the box along with the papers. A fat leather-bound book caught his eye. Turning it over, he found it was a journal. He flipped to the front of the volume. There, the date August twelfth, seventeen ninety, appeared to be the earliest entry. He tried to read what was written, but it was in Gaelic. He knew little Gaelic. Turning to a later date, he found an entry written in English, though that hardly mattered because it didn’t make sense to him.

Frowning, he read it over again.

16 July, 1898

Mary’s sixteenth birthday tomorrow. Will be presenting her with her skin. Mother feels she’s ready for the burden. We should expect her to take to the sea for a while.

18 July, 1898

As we expected, Mary has taken to the water. She was a beautiful sight sliding into her pelt, all shiny and brown.

Sean closed the volume and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Is this whole entire family screwy? What in the hell are they talkin’ about? He placed the box back on top of the filing cabinet and carried the journal with him out into the studio. Glancing around at Aran’s sketches, he felt like he’d just stepped into a dream. She (Aran) still slept. Her face a gentle and peaceful mask. He started to move toward her when the satellite phone began ringing.

He rushed from the room, tucking the book under his arm. No one should be calling unless it’s an emergency. Hurrying into the living room, he grabbed the receiver.

“Hello?” He cringed at the voice on the other end. “Sweetheart, what are you calling here for? Is something wrong?” Listening to Collette explain, he clenched his jaw and paced around the room. “This can’t wait? All right, all right. Meet me at the Pipers Rest in Kilcar tomorrow evening about five. Yeah, I’ll be there.” He hesitated for a moment, not really wanting to say the next few words. “I love you too.” His stomach roiled every time he told her that. You don’t mean it, so why do ya say it? (inner thought – italics?)

“Sean? I thought I heard the phone. Is something wrong?” Aran strolled down the stairs, rubbing her eyes and smearing even more charcoal over her face.

“No, just Collette demandin’ I see her and the lawyer to sign some papers.” He watched her shuffle across the living room and flop onto the couch. God, she’s so sexy. He felt the familiar twinges of desire. Clearing his throat, he said, “I’m gonna catch a shower.” Tucking the journal against him out of Aran’s view, he hurried up the stairs, hoping to avoid her catching the telltale sign of his arousal.

He left the journal on the guestroom dresser and grabbed his bag, pulling a pair of lounge pants and a T-shirt from inside. Closing the bathroom door behind him, he leaned against it. What the hell am I doin’? I should just…

A gentle knock sounded at the door and he opened it. Aran pushed her way into the room. She reached up, taking his face in her hands and kissed him. He found himself devouring her mouth with his, their tongues intertwining. “Aran, I don’t think this is such a good idea.” He breathed against her mouth, his desire igniting even further. Suddenly, he stumbled back, hoping she didn’t feel his growing erection.

“I don’t want anything more from you tonight other than comfort and pleasure. Collette doesn’t need to know.” Her dark eyes held that look, the one he called her sex eyes.

“It’s not that easy. I…”

“Sure it is,” she whispered in a husky breath. She tugged his shirt up running her hands over his stomach.

He grabbed her hands and held them away from him. “I can’t. I…”

“What? You’re married? We were married. Please, Sean. I want to feel your arms around me. She has you, she…” Tears welled in her eyes.

Releasing her hands, he reached up to wipe them away. “Sweetheart, I don’t want to–you’re not feelin’ well. I can see it in your eyes. Ya spent all day drawin’ somethin’ that’s obviously hauntin’ ya. Come on. Let’s get ya into bed so ya can rest.” He hoped she didn’t notice the thickness of his brogue. It was the one thing, he knew, that always gave him away.

“That’s all I do. I take pills. I drink. I sleep. When I can actually function, then I draw. Or paint. Or write.” A forlorn look crossed her features and more tears rolled down her cheeks. “This is getting to be too much, Sean. I want you. You’re the only solid thing in my life. And, (comma) she has you. Not me.” She sobbed.

He’d been through this with her before, but without the sexual advances. She would cry herself to sleep and be better in the morning. He scooped her up into his arms and carried her to her room.

“Not me,” she whimpered against his neck. He deposited her on the bed and covered her up. She curled on her side, drawing her knees up to her chest. She cried quietly before settling down and falling asleep.

He headed to his bathroom, turned the shower on and undressed. Stepping under the water, he tried to relax and let the steam wash away his stress. God, I almost lost it. “You’re such a dumb ass, Sean,” he spoke aloud.


Jon Michaelsen
http://www.jonmichaelsen.net
http://www.myspace.com/jmichaelsen
michaelsen@gmail.com

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