Was it you who was sitting at that coffee shop with your best friend, sharing the details of your dirty escapades? Were you telling the story about the time your employer found you polishing his floor in only your panties? Or was it the story about how your boss likes to eat candy from out of your pussy? Or were you telling her about the night you were tied up in a dungeon and made to watch your boyfriend fuck your best friend?
Did you happen to notice the nondescript woman in the corner? Yes the petite one, with chestnut hair, the one scribbling in her notebook. I don’t suppose you would have recognized her anyway—few know her face. It was Kay Jaybee the erotic writer, a collector of sorts.
As it turns out she heard every word you said and has included your story in her voyeuristic book The Collector (Austin MacCauley 2008) which has finally made its way into print after two years from concept to publication.
The book is an entertaining and provocative glance into the sex-lives of an eclectic selection people, each with a kinky tale to tell.
From the truly bizarre—“Sweets” (p. 35) is a tale of a submissive whose dominant partner insists on stuffing her pussy with licorice before getting her off.
To the super sexy—“New Territory” (p. 15) is the story of how the collector herself takes one of her subjects home, having her way with him with barely a word exchanged.
To the truly intense—“Tequila” (p. 69) tells the story of a woman who is gang-raped, then rescued from the gutter and eagerly fucked by the barman who witnessed the whole scene.
In total there are twenty short stories, each a unique sexual exploration. Although each story is delightfully different from the next, the underlying concept remains the same; Kay Jaybee gets her fingers deep into the sex lives of strangers, acquaintances and friends, most often from her favorite perch in the coffeehouse. There is no need to peep into your neighbor’s bedroom windows now, just open the book and find out what’s going on in the pants of those around you.
Kay Jaybee writes in her epilogue “If I have learnt anything from putting together this collection, it’s that you cannot tell what someone is into by just looking at them.”
Just as understated as its author, the cover of The Collector lends no suspicion of anything untoward or erotic – you could be reading a chapbook of love poetry for all anyone would know. Enjoy this book in your favorite coffeehouse and no one will be the wiser.
