The Writers' Conference

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Rita meets Mark and Liam in a writing workshop.
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"Character," Kristin said. "The most important part of any piece of fiction. If you start writing with only a plot in mind, you will struggle with your characters. However, if you start with your characters, they will create your plot for you."

The writing workshop was nearly full. Kristin Morris had had eleven books on the romantic bestseller list. Her current historical romance, "The Sands of Fortune," had been holding steady on the list for nearly eight weeks. Everyone wanted to hear what she had to say. So far, though, her words hadn't been all that different from everything else Rita had heard or read about writing. Rita sighed and dutifully jotted down "character first" in her notebook. She looked at it a second and then added, "duh."

She glanced around the room, trying to figure out who was a seasoned writer and who was new on the scene. Some of the newbies were obvious- they were writing down everything Kristin said, paying rapt attention, clearly hoping success was achievable through osmosis. Most of the others in the room were listening attentively, but Rita could tell there were other things happening behind their eyes. Stories, most likely.

She loved to write, but she also loved to watch other people write. That was one of her favorite things about these conferences. An entire weekend filled with no one but writers. New, experienced, successful, struggling... it didn't matter. All that mattered was that these were people who saw the world as a constant source of material, a series of events or people just waiting to be captured with words. This was the only place where she didn't feel the slightest bit out of place, walking around with her notebook, jotting down descriptions or ideas, or even bits of dialogue that she happened to overhear. Everyone else was doing the same thing.

"Okay, now we're going to practice this a bit," Kristin said, picking up a stack of manila folders. "If you'll clump up in groups of three or four, I'm going to come around and give each group a folder. Look through the pictures. Pick one and talk about him or her. Who is he? What is her life like? What are some of his pet peeves? Does she put the silverware in the dishwasher handle-up or handle-down?" A rustle grew in the room as people started moving their chairs into circles. "Build a picture of a character. Don't worry about plot. Just think about the character."

Rita glanced over at the guy to her right. He was looking her way. He raised a questioning eyebrow and she nodded.

"Hi," he said, scooting over to the chair beside her. "I'm Liam."

"Rita," she said.

A third guy in the chair behind Rita leaned forward. "Mind if I join you guys?"

"Not at all," Rita said, sliding her chair over.

"Thanks. I'm Mark." He reached up to take the folder Kristin held out as she walked up to the group.

"Know what you're doing?" she asked. All three of them nodded and then turned to look at the folder. It had a stack of pictures of very ordinary-looking people. A young woman painting a room yellow. A middle-aged man mowing the grass. A teenager sitting on a bench listening to an ipod. They flipped through the stack of pictures, slightly disinterested.

"I thought they were going to be a little more unusual-looking," Rita admitted.

"Me too. What about this one?" Mark asked, pointing to a picture of a young woman on a boat. She was gazing into the sunset, the wind blowing a scarf behind her.

"Easy. She's from a wealthy European family, but she's running away to America. Her parents set up a 'good' marriage for her and she wants no part of it," Rita said. "She's dreaming about her new life in a new country."

"Handle up or handle down?" Liam asked. All three laughed. "What about her?" Liam continued after a pause, raising his hand slightly to point towards the front of the room. His eyes were not on the pictures. They followed his gaze to Kristin. "What do you think about her?"

"Married?"

"No ring."

"Boyfriend?"

Rita shook her head. "I think she's too in love with her characters to allow room for a real man."

Mark and Liam looked at her in surprise. "Really?"

"Totally. Have you read any of her stuff?"

Both men shook their heads. "I'm more of a detective-novel guy," Liam said. "The whole heaving bosom/ tousled hair thing doesn't do much for me."

Rita nodded. "I know what you mean. I'm not usually into that much, either, but I like to read the books of presenters before the conferences. Just to get an idea of who they are."

"Very considerate of you," Mark said. "I just assume everyone writes like I do."

Liam grinned. "Me too."

They watched Kristin move around the room, chatting with each group, asking questions.

"Handle down, I think," Mark said finally.

"And she doesn't normally wear pantyhose." Rita looked Kristin up and down. "She usually writes in pajamas. With a mug of coffee."

"No," Liam said. "A glass of red wine."

"And a CD of rain sounds."

"She lives alone?"

"Not entirely. She has a cat."

As Kristin got closer, they tried to pull their attention back to the task at hand. The woman in the picture now looked very two-dimensional, uninteresting. Kristin came by. "Everything okay?" She stood by Liam's chair to look at the picture. "Tell me about her."

"She has a cat," Mark said seriously and Rita bit back a laugh. She could see Liam's face in her peripheral vision and she knew if she made eye contact, she wouldn't be able to keep herself from laughing.

"That's great!" Kristin said, lightly resting her hand on Liam's shoulder. "Tell me more." Rita took a deep breath and tried to think about death, taxes, Paula leaving American Idol. Anything to keep herself from erupting in laughter.

Luckily Kristin's questions only lasted a few more minutes. She just wanted to hear some random things that they'd come up with for "characterization." Rita was getting less impressed with this workshop by the minute.

"Oh, man," Mark laughed when Kristin finally moved to the next group. "I thought she was about to sit in your lap."

Liam shook his head. "You and me both."

"She wasn't paying a bit of attention to what you were saying," Rita said, starting to laugh. "I bet she was imagining a scene from her next novel. A tall, dark stranger with flashing eyes is working on his debut novel, needs a little assistance..." Rita trailed off, unable to talk as the laughter finally overwhelmed her.

Mark picked it up. "Luckily she's there to lend a helping hand, helping him develop his characters as her bosom heaves beneath the power of his gaze. Soon, they move beyond characterization-"

Liam cleared his throat and glanced behind Mark, who stopped talking just as Kristin came back into earshot.

"Okay," she said to the group. "Turn your attention back this way." She continued with the exercise, but Rita, Mark, and Liam were barely paying attention. They were continuing their own characterization on a blank page of Rita's notebook, casually passing the paper back and forth.

By the end of the session, it was all they could do to walk out of the room. They got into the hallway of the conference center and burst out laughing. They made their way down the hall towards the lobby, catching their breath and then getting tickled all over when one of them would say something about their fictional version of Kristin.

Finally they made it to the couches in the airy lobby. They sank down, facing windows that looked out over the ocean. The conference center was right on the water and the views were beautiful. It was too cold to go swimming, but Rita had been planning to take a walk on the beach that night.

"So you two think I'm dashing, huh?" Liam asked.

"Very much so," Rita answered right away, still grinning.

"You've got that whole tall, dark, and handsome thing going on," Mark said. "The kind-of thing romance novelists fall all over themselves about." He checked the conference schedule. "Nothing else to do until the author panel tonight. You guys want to go grab a drink?"

"Sure," Rita and Liam both nodded and they all stood up.

"Psst," Rita said suddenly, tapping her foot quietly to get their attention. "What about that guy?"

All three of them looked up as another session let out and a man came through the doorway. He wore a tie and a button-down shirt, tucked neatly into pressed khakis. He carried a small, expensive-looking briefcase. He looked serious.

"Non-fiction, definitely," Mark said. "Maybe politics?"

"He doesn't have time for fiction writers. But he's here because he has something very important to discuss with one of the presenters," Liam added.

"Handle up or handle down?"

Liam watched the man walk down the hallway. "Hand washes his dishes. After each meal. His OCD won't let him leave anything dirty in the sink or the dishwasher."

"Allergic to cats."

"Allergic to EVERYTHING."

They started laughing again and moved towards the hotel bar. The random characterization continued, picking up pace once the alcohol started. No one was safe. Anyone who walked through their line of vision was in danger of being characterized.

A few drinks in, Rita was laughing so hard she had her forehead on the table. She couldn't breath. It felt like her insides were one giant muscle that had clenched up and wouldn't let go. Finally, finally she was able to get oxygen in, and the muscle relaxed a little. She looked up to see Liam wiping tears from his cheeks.

"Why aren't we writing this down?" Mark asked, shaking his head. "We have just come up with a near-lifetime supply of characters."

"What about you?" Liam asked him.

"What about me?" Mark asked.

"What's your story?"

Mark smiled. "You tell me."

"You write..." Liam looked him up and down. "... contemporary fiction. You have a serious message, and you try to write novels that convey that message."

"It doesn't always work," Rita chimed in. "But your mom loves your books." She turned to Liam. "They're very close."

He nodded. "I think so, too."

Mark laughed. "That's a little scary. Handle up or handle down?"

"Up, definitely," Rita said. "What about me?"

"Handle down."

She shook her head. "I don't have a dishwasher."

"No pets, either. But a plant," Liam said, studying her. "And I bet you talk to it. You were skeptical about the whole talking-to-plants thing, but you tried it once and found it comforting. The plant sits on your desk while you write your poetry."

Rita chuckled and finished the beer in front of her. "You fail. No plants, no poetry. I write science fiction."

Both guys looked at her with surprise. "I wasn't expecting that," Mark said. He waved for another round.

"Yep. I've always loved science fiction and fantasy," she said. "When I was little I desperately wanted to live in a world with magic and dragons. Maggie Furey, Mercedes Lackey, Robin McKinley... they created universes that I longed for. So I started creating my own."

She picked up a pretzel from the bowl in front of her and pointed it at Liam. "And I do have a pet. He's a lizard."

"Of course," Liam nodded. "A baby dragon."

She grinned. "So the truth is out. I'm a huge nerd. Are you guys going to start looking for a way to escape from me now?"

Liam shook his head. "I'm pretty interested in science fiction myself. Not so much the dragons and fairies part... more so the extraterrestrial stuff."

"How about that?" she said. She glanced at Mark. "What about you?"

"Contemporary fiction," he said with a sigh. "I have a serious message I'd like to get to people through my books, but it doesn't always work."

The three of the burst into laughter as the waitress set three more beers on the table.

A few more beers later, Rita decided she was officially drunk.

"We probably shouldn't go to the author panel," she told Mark and Liam. "I think we might behave a bit inappropriately."

Mark glanced at his watch and then laughed. "It's okay. That ended about 45 minutes ago."

"Oh." Rita leaned back in her chair and stretched. She saw both Liam and Mark's eyes go to her breasts, and warmth flooded through her midsection. She held the stretch a second longer than she needed to, and then slowly brought her arms back down.

"I was thinking about taking a walk on the beach," she told them. "What do you think?"

Both men nodded. "Sounds nice," Mark said.

"Great. I just need to go upstairs and change my shoes. Want to meet back down here in 10 minutes?"

"Sure," Liam said.

Rita stood up, but had to grab at the table as the floor shifted under her. Mark stood quickly and put his hand on her side. He was pretty wobbly, too, but two wobbly people were slightly better than one wobbly person.

"Let me help you," he said. They turned toward the door and Rita lost her balance. She tipped into Mark, who staggered back into the table. Both of them started laughing. Liam stood and tried to help, but he wasn't much better off.

"Oh, lord," Rita said. She put her finger against her head and briefly closed her eyes. "I don't know if a walk on the beach is such a good idea. It might be an adventure for me to just get back to my room."

"We'll help," Liam said. "Between the three of us, hopefully we'll make it. What room are you in?"

Rita laughed. "I have no idea. My room key is in my pocket."

A hand slid into her back pocket and retrieved the key. "424," Liam said. "Good, I'm on the fourth floor, too."

"Me, too," Mark said. "That must be where they stuck all the writers."

For some reason that was quite funny, and they all laughed as they made their way to the elevator. They were the only ones in the car, and Rita leaned against Mark and held on to Liam's arm. Mark had his arm around her and the three of them were very close together. The alcohol and the movement of the car were making her very dizzy. And also, she thought, the closeness of the two men might have had a little something to do with it.

The doors opened on the fourth floor, and the little group staggered and shuffled its way to room 424. Liam still held Rita's key, and he slid it into the lock. The green light lit, and he opened the door.

"Come on in," Rita said, kicking her shoes off. She made her way to the balcony and slid back the glass door. The cool fall air drifted into the room with the sound of the waves. "Oh, that's nice," she sighed. She walked out and leaned against the railing.

One of the guys came up behind her and peered out over her shoulder.

"You can see the ocean from your room?" Mark asked. She felt the heat coming from his body, and she leaned back against him. Her head was swirling, but the sensation wasn't entirely unpleasant.

"Yep."

"I'm jealous. My view is of the parking lot." He reached around and slid his hand under her shirt, flat against her stomach. Then he moved her hair and kissed the side of her neck. She turned to face him, draping her arms around his neck. His lips were soft beneath hers. She closed her eyes and the swirling in her head increased.

"Want to go back inside?" she whispered, leaning back slightly.

"Very much so," he answered.

Liam was standing just inside the doorway and Rita reached for him with a smile. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her hard, pressing his tongue into her mouth. She sighed a little and kissed him back, her body leaning full-length against his. She heard the sound of the curtain behind her- Mark had closed the curtain, but left the door open so they could hear the ocean and feel the night air.

Then there were four hands on her and another strong wave of dizziness swept over her. A hand was on her left breast and two others were sliding up and down her hips. Somebody reached for the button on her jeans as she slid her hands under Liam's shirt. Mark reached into the front of her pants and cupped her through her underwear. She moaned and pressed into his hand.

"Is this okay?" he whispered into her ear. She spread her feet in response, allowing him to reach further between her legs. His fingers moved gently against her, kneading her through the thin cotton fabric.

Liam, still kissing her, reached around and tugged on Mark's shirt. It came over his head, but he had to take his hand from Rita's pants to get it all the way off. She groaned with frustration and he chuckled. "I'll be right back." He dropped the shirt on the floor and then reached around to unbutton her shirt. It joined his on the floor, followed quickly by her bra and Liam's shirt. Then they were pressed together again, bare skin to bare skin.

Rita reached around behind her to touch the front of Mark's pants. He was rock hard beneath her hand, and his breath caught in his throat as she unzipped his pants and wrapped her fingers around him. She could feel his pulse on her palm.

Liam dropped his face to her chest, allowing her to turn slightly to get a better grip on Mark. Liam's tongue flicked out, darting across her nipples. They hardened instantly, and he fastened his mouth on one. Heat moved through her body, and dampness grew between her legs. Her knees went weak and she wrapped her other arm across Liam's shoulders.

Mark's breathing was starting to get a little ragged. She let go of him. "Take your pants off," she gasped. She tried to help, but they were both fumbling so badly they couldn't get the button undone. Finally it opened, and he pushed his pants down over his hips.

"Me, too," she said, still clenching Liam's head against her chest. Mark tugged on the waistband of her pants, pulling her pants and underwear down with one motion. Then she was naked, the cool air from the open balcony door washing over her feverish skin. She reached back for Mark and he pressed himself against her again, this time both of them completely naked. His cock was between her legs, nestled against her bottom.

"Liam, you need to get caught up," Mark said. His voice was husky. Liam pulled back from Rita and looked at the two of them.

"That was quick," he said with a grin. In no time he was also naked, and Rita thought she was going to pass out. The ache between her legs was so strong she couldn't think of anything else.

She gasped for breath and then found herself distracted by a thought.

"Wait... is my bosom heaving?" she asked.

Liam looked down. "Yes, I think it is." He stepped forward, the length of his body matching hers. "'Dear Penthouse," he said. "I never thought this would happen to me, but..." he trailed off, sliding his hand down her side. Rita and Mark laughed, but Mark's laugh was a bit distracted. Rita had reached behind her again and was working her hand up and down the length of his cock.

"I've never done this before," Mark said from behind them.

"Me either," Rita said. She let go of Mark and gently pushed him toward the bed. "Doesn't seem too hard to figure out, though."

She turned to look at Liam over her shoulder. Adrenaline and alcohol were mixing deliciously in her bloodstream. She felt like a goddess, like pure sex. Whatever she wanted, she could have. And she wanted these two.

Mark slid backwards on the bed and she followed him, slowly crawling across the bed toward him. He lay back and she moved up his body, kissing his knees, the top of his thighs, the inside of his thighs, the top of his cock... She wrapped her mouth around the tip of him, swirling her tongue across him.

"Ohh," he said, closing his eyes. He reached up to rest a hand gently on her hair, and she let his cock slide farther into her mouth.

The bed shifted as Liam crawled up behind her, and she felt the warmth of his face on the back of her thigh. His tongue and fingers traced patterns up and down the backs and insides of her thighs, getting closer and closer to where her legs joined together.

Finally his hand made it to the top, and he slid a single finger between her folds. She moaned with delight, humming slightly against Mark's cock. As Liam slid his finger in and out of her, she found herself matching his rhythm with her mouth on Mark's cock.

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