I don’t know about you, but the world seems to be getting pretty (insert your favorite colorful word here) intense. While I like to stay informed, I also like to laugh to deal with stress. And, I need some chuckles these days.
Today, the wonderful Robyn Nyx is here to help us laugh with an embarrassing story. Also, Robyn is giving away an ecopy of Uncharted. Below the guest post, you’ll find more details about the giveaway.
Take it away Robyn.
Being One of the Good Guys
Embarrassing stories to make you laugh…with me, rather than at me I’d hope. That’s the remit of this wonderful new project from TB Markinson. So here I am. I’m lucky that I don’t embarrass or shame easily. I’m not embarrassed by any part of my body. I’m not mortified by explicit conversations about sex, rather I welcome them. And any mistake is an opportunity to learn.
That said, when TB approached me about this blog, two episodes in my youth jumped immediately to mind. Beyond them, I’m happy to say that I can’t really think of any others. As I said, it takes a lot to embarrass me. But I’m in my fifth decade now, and what was mortifying as a kid is a shrug of my shoulders now…except for these two little tales. I was only asked for one though, so I had to decide which one that would be. One involved blood and a bicycle, the other role play and nakedness. I probably shouldn’t share either, but TB has already shown the way with her story of peeing her pants, so screw it.
I’ve always been an experimental kind of person, even as a youngster. I think it was an old boyfriend who’d given me this particular item in the hope that he might get to use them on me. Otherwise I don’t know where I would’ve sourced them. This was a time before the internet or specialist sex shops for women. And I was about fourteen, so a trip to Sh! in London wouldn’t have been an option anyway.
Handcuffs. Not the old police issue kind, of course. Just the bog standard, stainless steel cuffs. I grew up on the old TV shows with the handsome heroes like Michael Knight in Knight Rider, Face Benedict in the A-Team, even Bruce Bixby in the Hulk. And at some point in almost every episode, they ended up shirtless. They had to throw on their denim or leather jacket over their otherwise naked torso and run away from the bad guys after saving the girl…at least, that’s how I remember it now.
I don’t quite know how I made the leap from that to the predicament I placed myself in that afternoon. Dad was at work most probably. That’s where he had to spend a good deal of his time to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table, because we were a working class family. My two brothers, I can’t account for. I just know they weren’t in the house. My mum was food shopping.
I was alone in the house with a battered denim jacket and a pair of handcuffs. I managed to put myself in them, hands behind my back. Why? I wanted–then and still now–to be the hero. I’d been captured by the bad guys and had to escape in order to rescue the hot woman in distress (also captured by the bad guys).
So far so good.
Except the guys in the TV shows and the movies made it look easy. A paperclip, a stray screw, a matchstick. I’d seen all of those things used to unpick the lock on the silver screen. But I had an advantage. I had the key. That made it super easy, didn’t it?
Turns out, it’s not so easy to fit a tiny key into a small lock when you can’t see the damn hole.
My bedroom was on the front of the house, which was handy. I could keep an eye out on the top of the street to see when Mum was coming home. And that time was fast approaching. I’d spent at least fifteen minutes trying to get out of the handcuffs, to no avail.
The inevitable happened. Mum’s old silver Cavalier turned into the top street. Panic. I fiddled furiously, but I couldn’t get it in the hole (laugh it up, bright girl).
Mum turned into our street. Into the driveway. Got out of the car. Opened the garage door. Back in the car. Drove into the garage.
Still that fucking key wouldn’t get in the bloody hole.
Mum came in the back door just as I finally slipped the impossibly small key into the left cuff. A quick turn, and one hand was free. “Hi, Mum,” I shouted, hoping she would be busy bringing in bags of shopping.
But no. Her first priority was to say hi to her daughter, wasn’t it? I stood at my bedroom window as I heard her come through the hallway.
“Hi, sweetheart. Would you help me with the shopping?” she asked as she came into my bedroom.
I didn’t move. I remained at the window, battered denim jacket over my otherwise naked torso, my right hand holding the left cuff and stuffed in my jeans pocket. “Yep. No problem.”
“What are you doing?”
She was by my side in a few short steps. She appraised the situation with a quick glance, took in the outfit I was sporting, and smiled before walking away.
“I’ll make a start on the bags, sweetheart.”
You can win a copy of my latest book, Uncharted, by clicking here. It’s all about the good guys versus the bad guys. There are no handcuffs, but the hero does get captured, and I can guarantee that she gets the hot girl.
by Robyn Nyx
Rayne Marcellus knows what people want, and she’s damn good at getting it. Antiquities is her game, and she’s the best there is, moving in the shadows even as she trades in the light. When an ambitious criminal approaches her to take on a deadlier game than even she’s willing to play, she knows she has to stop him. But she’ll need help…
After a previous betrayal, Chase Stinsen doesn’t want anything to do with Rayne. Chase believes archaeology is a tool to understand the past in an effort to help the future and has no use for profiting from the finds of history. But when Rayne proposes they track the legendary Golden Trinity, with the added benefit of helping indigenous tribes, she’s hooked.
Danger lurks around every corner, and their defenses crumble as they have to depend on one another to survive. If Chase can finally trust Rayne again, she might just end up with more than the gold.
MEET THE AUTHOR
Robyn Nyx lives in England but enjoys traveling all over the world in search of inspiration. She loves to create complex characters to weave into stories that remind us of the darker side of human nature in the hope that we might cultivate the light. Make contact and find out more at robynnyx.com
CONNECT WITH ROBYN NYX
Thanks so much for stopping by today.