Lucifer Rising

By

Sharon Bowers

I love this story. Love it. If you can be in love with a piece of writing, well… Ok, so maybe not in love, but in lust, most definitely. Without question.

Why do I love it, let me count the ways:

• One of the first (truly good) Ubers to be written and still oh, so good. Excellent.
• The ultimate Uber reincarnations ensue – the dark drug lord/cop toeing the line between black and white, and the ferocious little reporter. How could you go wrong, really?
• It’s just so… Uber, you know, you just gotta love it. I mean, there is *nothing* realistic about this story - renegade drug lords, the onset of the relationship between the two main characters, life in general – but, hey, reality is way overrated anyway, right?
• Ah, crap, why bother – it’s "Lucifer Rising" we’re talking about here, you know all this anyway. It’s like trying to tell you that the Pacific is this really big body of water, or George Bush is an idiot – I’m just rehashing well-known facts.

Oh, one thing I forgot to mention – dear god, can this woman weave drool-inducing visual imagery, or what? The outfits, the looks, the tension, Miss Bowers truly knows how to pull us in and make us love every second of the mindless fun that this story is. Don’t get me wrong – I’m not trying to downplay the writing finesse of the author – Sharon is as good as they come. After all, anyone who uses sentences like this:
'"I'm sorry," she whispered, then she was gone, a chimera chasing down other dwellers of her adumbral realm.'
means business. The writing is tight and of the highest quality, the dialogue has provided me with some excellent pick-up lines, and it’s a pity (though understandable) that Miss Bowers is these days focusing her talent on such shows as ER.

What else do I love about this story? I love the fact that one of the heroines gets shot on the first date and considers it foreplay. I love the way you are able to feel suspense throughout the story despite the fact that we know there will be the inevitable happy ending. I’d love to be one of those lucky dogs that get to sleep in the same bed with Jude and Liz.

Go read it again. I promise you’ll find yourself hankering for a nice glass of bourbon (the wretched liquid – how can anyone drink that?) and a desire to know more about the criminal elements of the city you’re living in. What more could one ask for?

And if this piss-poor recommendation did nothing to sway you towards printing a few pages for bedside reading, condsider this:

"Tell me what you've been thinking about."
"You," the small woman managed hoarsely. "The way you feel in my arms, the way I fit into yours. I held you this morning as you slept--and I had to fight to let you go when you woke up." She nudged her chair closer to Jude's, so their knees softly brushed against each other. "I want to see you stretched out underneath me," she condfided, her eyes taking on their own shimmering desire. "I want you open and wanting me as badly as I want you right now. I want to take you with my hands, my mouth, my tongue--any way you want, any way you've ever imagined. I want you helpless to do anything but respond to me--to the press of my breasts against yours, the sound of my voice in your ears. And I want to do it all knowing that as soon as you come, you're going to turn around and demand the same thing of me."

U-huh. Thought so...

Lucifer Rising