Sometimes such a
simple thing can lead to such an unexpected and wonderful future…
“Second Saturday.” Ed. Liz Silver. Musa Publishing, Forthcoming July 2012.
ISBN: 978-1-61937-295-5
I'd like to welcome Stan Hampton
who joins us today to talk about his hot Lesbian, shifter, erotic romance.
Give us the Story Behind Second Saturday
So, what is the inspiration behind
the lesbian werewolf erotic romance, Second
Saturday?
Pardon me while I play Loreena
McKennitt’s Nights from the Alhambra,
particularly The Mummer’s Dance and Huron ‘Beltane’ Fire Dance. I have
always enjoyed her music, whether I am relaxing or writing.
Anyway, the inspiration?
Well, I once saw a Call for
Submissions for a lesbian shapeshifter anthology. The subject sounded
interesting, even challenging, as I had never written anything like that. After
all, I am a man. What did I know of lesbians, especially lesbian shapeshifters?
I finally decided to give it a try—and the story was not accepted for the
anthology.
Second
Saturday is a fairly simple story made up of several elements.
There is in Las Vegas, a monthly
arts event called First Friday. Once a month, on the first Friday of the month,
the arts district located not far from Fremont Street in Old Las Vegas hosts an
evening long art crawl. Large crowds wander among the various shops and
studios, and arts and crafts stalls, food stalls, and beer stalls.
By nature and experience I am a
photographer and a people watcher. I also have an interest in painting,
drawing, and sculpting—unfortunately, in spite of having taken several college
classes, I have yet to discover my natural talent for those skills. One can
always hope.
And regarding the two characters, Sharon
Rogers, a bicurious UNLV art student, and Patricia Renner, a lesbian and an
attorney… Not meaning to sound sexist, but is there not something beautiful about
two women making love with one another?
As for the shapeshifter
element—researching a different story I once read of the Greek historian
Herodotus and his claim that northwest of the now-Black Sea there was a tribe
that turned into wolves once a year. The tribe was called the Neuri.
After Second Saturday was rejected for the anthology I let the story sit
for a little while, then went back and did some writing and editing. I knew
that I had a viable story, and even a subject that was deserving of additional
stories.
Fortunately, events proved my belief
correct.
The chaos that is life sometimes
gets in the way of writing; I have not added to the story of the Neuri since
the publication of Second Saturday in
2012. But I have not forgotten them.
So, for a moment imagine yourself in
a Mycenaean king’s columned hall, one of many gathered around a smoky,
flame-filled hearth. The evening has already heard of Jason and his search for
the Golden Fleece, and of Helen and the Mycenaean and Trojan heroes who fought
over her before the walls of Troy.
There remains other tales to be told
before the fire becomes glowing embers in a silent night—tales of strong
warriors, part wolf, who came from the frozen north where colorful spirits danced
in the night sky. Even the Neuri women, born with sword and spear in hand, were
unafraid of men and death and were likewise unafraid to love other women…
BLURB: Sharon Rogers is a
young university student in Las Vegas, working part-time at a nearby donut
shop. She is hard at work one morning when Patricia Renner enters the shop--and
Sharon's life.
Not long after meeting Patricia, she begins dreaming. Sharon turns her dreams of male and female
warriors with wolves' heads into sculptures. When Sharon and her fellow art students band
together to host an "art crawl" for the public, she invites Patricia
to attend, hoping to seduce her. However, Sharon
discovers that Patricia is intent on seducing her; not only that, Patricia is
very territorial and will not permit rivals for Sharon's hand. Patricia has a secret, though,
and Sharon must
accept it if they are to be together forever.
EXCERPT: Sharon Rogers opened
her eyes and stared at the darkness of her bedroom ceiling with the echo of the
tremulous howls still ringing faintly in her ears. Many times before, she had
dreamed of powerful warriors; men and women, who ran with giant wolves across
moonlit steppes. With the fading of the dream she felt an unexplained pang of loss.
As a matter of routine, Sharon woke very early; when she wasn’t a
starving university student, she worked part-time at the Mom and Pop Donut
Emporium not far from the university. Baking and icing trays of donuts and
serving coffee was her momentary purpose in life.
Though she had the day off, she grumbled about having
such an early rising job—in spite of the Ground Zero recession with so many Las
Vegans out of work—and went back to sleep. When she finally awakened, she lay
naked in her large bed and stared at the whirling ceiling fan.
It was Saturday, the first “Second Saturday” for the
Maryland Parkway Salon, as the local group of university students called
themselves. The students who lived in the weathered apartment buildings had
spent two months planning this art crawl. For a few hours, the public could
visit apartments where art work was for sale, help themselves to refreshments
in the sandy lot between the buildings, and visit with the artists in their
workshops at the back of the lot.
If Second Saturday was successful, they planned to hold
more art crawls every couple of months.
But for Sharon,
Second Saturday had the potential to be much more than an art show.
First, there were the more than a dozen foot-high clay
figures that she had sculpted and fired. The figures were of naked men and
women with wolves’ heads—warriors armed with shields, spears, and swords. As an
artist, Sharon
appreciated the human male and female form, and she loved wolves. The two
subjects complemented one another, reinforced by dreams she’d had. She was
hoping to sell one or more of the figures.
Second, was the boorish Rodney Boatman, a sometime-patron
at the donut shop. He was a delivery driver for a local company. He hit on her
frequently, never taking no for an answer. When he saw the flyer announcing
Second Saturday, he had promised to show up and take her out for dinner and
drinks afterward. She dreaded his possible appearance.
Third, was Patricia Renner…
Wowaz! Since he's new here, I thought I'd give a little bio for him.
Stan Hampton, Sr. is a full-blood Choctaw of the Choctaw
Nation of Oklahoma, a divorced grandfather to 13 wonderful grandchildren, and a
published photographer and photojournalist. He retired on 1 July 2013 from the
Army National Guard with the rank of Sergeant First Class; he previously served
in the active duty Army (1974-1985), the Army Individual Ready Reserve
(1985-1995) (mobilized for the Persian Gulf War), and enlisted in the Nevada Army
National Guard in October 2004, after which he was mobilized for Federal active
duty for almost three years. Hampton is a veteran of Operations Noble Eagle
(2004-2006) and Iraqi Freedom (2006-2007) with deployment to northern Kuwait
and several convoy security missions into Iraq.
His writings have appeared as stand-alone stories and in
anthologies from Dark Opus Press, Edge Science Fiction & Fantasy, Melange
Books, Musa Publishing, MuseItUp Publishing, Ravenous Romance, and as
stand-alone stories in Horror Bound Magazine, The Harrow, and River Walk
Journal, among others.
In May 2014 he graduated from the College of Southern
Nevada with an Associate of Applied Science Degree in Photography – Commercial
Photography Emphasis. A future goal is to study for a degree in archaeology—hopefully
to someday work in and photograph underwater archaeology (and also learning to
paint).
After 13 years of brown desert in the Southwest and
overseas, he misses the Rocky Mountains, yellow aspens in the fall, running
rivers, and a warm fireplace during snowy winters.
As of April 2014, after being in a 2-year Veterans
Administration program for Homeless Veterans, Hampton is officially no longer a
homeless Iraq War veteran, though he is still struggling to get back on his
feet.
Hampton can be found at:
Ravenous Romance
One story produced a series…the Legend of the Spirit
Series. 
He stood tall with a
naked barrel chest and when he turned I noticed a huge tattoo of wings covering
his back from shoulders to under his waistband. Dressed in baggy jeans and worn
boots he had a rugged sexiness. His black hair cut in a modified military crop
looked like velvet. Spiked on top was white while the sides were tipped with
grey. I’d never seen anything like it.
He ran his hands through the silky layers and explained like the eagle, his
hair would change to white as he ages but he assured me he’s in the prime
of his life. I couldn’t agree more. Wowza! 
