My World War One erotica story “The Aid Station, 1916” is appearing in For the Love of a Soldier from Circlet Press, edited by Kristina Wright. It’s out June 29th. This one has been in limbo for a long time, so I’m very excited!
Here’s the opening of my story:
Captain Harry Cash tried not to cling too obviously as the British ambulance hurtled over a hole in the road. They landed with an almighty jolt, slamming his tailbone into the hard seat and his elbow into the metal box strapped next to him. For a few moments, pain distracted him from the breakneck pace, and he hunched over his arm, biting back a stream of curses in courtesy to the driver. Nothing was broken; he would still be able to do his job, once they arrived at the aid station.
The next pit was longer and deeper, but fortunately easier to see; the driver maneuvered them around it, slowly and carefully. The vehicle rocked back and forth in heaps of dirt thrown up by the artillery shell’s impact; Harry could make out remnants of casing strewn everywhere. Even the rural backroads of his home state of Vermont were not so rough.
“I’ll get you there alive, Dr. Cash,” Eloise–Miss Naughton–remarked, as if sensing his thought. Her eyes didn’t leave the road, though her tone was casual. She was a sturdily built, pretty woman in her twenties, round-faced and rosy cheeked, her pale brown hair bobbed under a peaked cap. Her hands were square and competent on the wheel of the ambulance. She’d changed, since he’d last seen her in 1913. She’d cut her hair short, and she’d lost her smiles, and she no longer looked at him as if he was someone who mattered. She spoke to him as if he was a stranger.