Tia Zen Sin: Erotic Author Spotlight Series

Tia Zen Sin – Erotic Author Spotlight

I’m featuring Tia Zen Sin in the erotic author spotlight this week! Read on to find out more about the lady behind the writings, as well as book info and a sexy free excerpt too.

Are you an erotic author who would like a free spotlight feature? There’s a new one posted up every Monday. Please take a look at what you need to email me here, and email me when you’ve got it all ready. I’ll then get back to you with your spotlight date. It’s that simple! You can find out who else has been spotlighted in date order through the main page here.

– Cara Sutra

Tia Zen Sin - Erotic Author Spotlight

Tia Zen Sin

Tia Zen Sin - Erotic Author Spotlight

Tia Zen Sin is a young American artist, sidelining in writing erotica. Because her visual and conceptual artworks tend toward the mainstream, she’s decided to use a pen name to keep the two parts of her creative life separate. That said, a lot of her erotic work deals with her life as an artist, and often focuses on erotic fantasies based on her time at art college.

Probably the best example of this is the short story series, “Lady Art Rock,” which follows the adventures of a fictional Tia as she and a few artist friends decide to form an art rock band. Tia, who is a born performer but not particularly musical, falls first for the beautiful redhead guitarist who invites her into the band, and then later develops a serious crush on the cool but standoffish drummer. Most of the stories in the series feature girl-girl scenes, with a few boy-girl as well.

One of Tia Zen Sin’s concerns as a writer and artist are themes of identity and gender. As an openly bisexual woman, she often writes about lesbian themes, but also expresses curiosity about broader LGBT* themes. She has also tried to express male points of view in her work, sometimes writing about herself through her lover’s eyes. These experiments are not only literary; Tia sees the value in trying to speak in the voice of others to try and understand them better.

Tia Zen Sin - Erotic Author Spotlight

Tia Zen Sin Links

Although Tia Zen Sin has placed a few short works on different internet sites, the majority of Tia’s work has been released in eBook form through Langely’s Lovelies, a newer online publisher. Her titles are available through Smashwords, Nook, Kobo and iTunes.

Tia Zen Sin blogs about writing and posts erotic poetry at her blog, tiazensin.blogspot.com. Connect with her on twitter @tiazensin.


Free Excerpt from Tia Zen Sin

Here is a sample from the first story in the “Lady Art Rock” series.

Tia Zen Sin - Erotic Author Spotlight

We made a date for Sunday afternoon. On Saturday I went through all of my old journals and notebooks and tried to scrape together some half-decent material. I wasn’t writing much in those days, and what I pulled together wasn’t much. I had a few short poems, some dreams I’d written down, and some other little scraps of prose. It wouldn’t cut it for a real performance, but maybe it would do for a try-out. After all, that’s what this felt like: a try-out for her band.

On Sunday I picked up a six-pack of beer and went to her house. I dressed nicely, but tried to look casual. Hopefully I looked hot-casual. Once again, I wanted to impress her. Not counting my little drunken come-on at the bar on Thursday, I wondered how much of my desire to impress her was simply based on attraction? She was beautiful, and I could imagine getting naked with her. Was that something I was really interested in? I wasn’t sure. I’d been in boy-mode for a while, and girls hadn’t been on mind mind much lately, sexually speaking. But Meghan…

Her apartment was in a student ghetto not far from the campus. With three universities in the downtown, there was a lot of cheap student apartments around. Hers was on the third floor of a brick building that was probably seventy years old. Its facade was in rough shape, and the vestibule had a musty, slightly pissy smell, but who cares, right? It was close to campus, and you don’t have to hang out in the vestibule.

I buzzed her apartment and she buzzed me in. I walked up the three flights, and she met me in the hallway. I could see she had totally outdone me in the casual department. I was in a plaid skirt and a black knit top with my leather jacket. She was in pajama bottoms and a t-shirt with a loose sweater hanging open in the front. Her long, orange-blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail. “Hey,” she said when she saw me. “Come on in.”

I followed her inside the apartment. It was a pretty small place, a typical student one-bedroom. Like a lot of art students, her place was crammed. There was a couch, bookshelves overflowing with books, papers, old projects and junk. Her coffee table was piled with stuff. It was a mess, but that wasn’t unusual.

“Do you want coffee?” she asked.

“Sure. I brought some beers, too. In case we need to loosen up when we jam. I figured it might be a little weird. First time and all.”

“Cool,” she said, and took the six-pack from me to put in the fridge. “Later though. I need coffee first. I just got up a little while ago.”

Meghan asked how I took my coffee, and she brought two cups from the kitchen. We sat down with me on the couch, and her on a easy chair next to the couch. She moved some magazines and found an ashtray and a pack of cigarettes. “Do you mind if I smoke?”

“I didn’t know you smoked,” I said. “I’ve never seen you smoke at school.”

She shook her head. “I just have one with my morning coffee,” she said. “And sometimes one late at night.” She took one from the pack. “It doesn’t bother you?”

I shrugged. “Knock yourself out,” I said. “It’s your place.”

Meghan lit up. We chatted about school for a while as she smoked and had her coffee, and when she felt ready, she went to the bedroom and got her guitar. It was a hollow-bodied blonde acoustic. I don’t know much about guitars, but it was nice looking.

“I have an electric too,” she said. “If we performed I would probably use that one. But since we’re just giving it a quiet try in the apartment, I’ll just use this one.”

“Whatever you prefer.”

She sat back in her chair with the guitar across her lap. She started strumming, an soft, gentle brushing of the pick over the strings. “So, what do you want to do?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I replied. “What do you want to do?”

She just smiled and didn’t say anything. Strum, strum.

“Awkward,” I giggled. “Do you want me to read something?”

She nodded, and just kept strumming, so I dug into my bag and took out the notebook. I’d copied all the little scraps of writing out fresh in a new notebook, so I wouldn’t have to shuffle papers looking for anything. I started to read: “I had a dream last night that I woke up in my bed with my head under the covers and I couldn’t find you. I reached out, stretching myself in every direction, but you weren’t there. I couldn’t find the edges of the bed. I was naked, under endless sheets, and I crawled on my belly, sliding under covers that went on forever, reaching my fingertips to find you…”

The piece went on for a while, and she watched me read with a smile on her lips, not missing a word, and not missing the rhythm. When I finished, I gave a little shrug to show there was no more.

“That was nice,” she said, still playing. “You read that one at the Tower show. Do you have anything else?”

I started reading another piece. It wasn’t as interesting as the first, but I tried to make it sound good as I read it. She changed what she was playing slightly, so I changed my tone and speed as well, trying to match her. She watched and I watched her, my eyes darting back and forth between her smiling eyes and the handwritten words on the notebook page.

There wasn’t enough material in the notebook. I read through it all in only a few minutes, and she kept strumming and smiling at me, waiting for more, so I started improvising: “I met a girl,” I said, “A new girl, a mystery girl out of nowhere, and she told me she wanted to show me something I’d never seen before. I don’t believe it, I told her, because I’d been far and wide and I’d seen strange and beautiful wonders, I’d seen big and small, and I’d seen things that could make your skin crawl. She told me I’d never seen what she wanted to show me, so I went with her.”

Meghan could see I was making it all up now, and her smile grew wider. We were sitting so close together. She was leaning forward in her chair, strumming away, and I was leaning toward her, with the closed notebook on my thigh. I didn’t dare look directly, but I could see her nipples poking through the cotton front of her t-shirt.

“She took me down into the forest,” I continued, talking along with the rhythm of her guitar, “and I asked her what she wanted to show me, and she said nothing. Nothing? Nothing. Just her lips, her lips, her lips, her lips,” and I repeated the refrain , and Meghan’s playing became more jagged, more throbbing. “So I kissed her lips,” I went on, “her lips, her lips, her lips.”

I stopped, and she slowed down too, and then put a little flourish on the end, strumming hard and then finishing.

“That was really cool,” she said. “I think this could definitely work.”

I smiled. “I think so too.” I was giving her the look. The look and the smile.

“Um,” she said, “I think I’m going to grab two of those beers.”

She set the guitar down and got up. As she entered the kitchen I took a deep breath, bolstered my courage, and followed her.

Meghan was bending over, grabbing the bottles out of the fridge. I timed it perfectly so that as she straightened up and turned around, I was right there in front of her. “Oh,” she said with surprise, but she didn’t resist when I slowly moved in, put my hands on her hips and kissed her on the lips.

It was a soft kiss, very tentative, gentle. Our eyes closed, and our lips played, kiss, kiss, kiss. I didn’t press. I wanted to. I wanted to smoosh myself against her, press against those big breasts, put my hands on her, run them under her clothes, but I held back. I held back, waiting to see if she was ready. To see if it was what she wanted.

She tasted like black coffee and cigarettes. Two highly addictive things.


– Tia Zen Sin


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