The Questions
1) 1) You’re marooned on a small island with one person and one item of your choice—who is that person and what item do you have?
For the person, there’s only one correct answer, my wife Cynthia, inspiration for the incomparable “Fashion Model Known as Cynthia” from the subspecies series. In the flesh, not only is she beautiful but smart. The item choice is easy too: matches, because as a boy scout I never got the hang of making fire by rubbing sticks.
2) Which musical would you say best exemplifies your life – and which character in that musical are you?
“The Fantasticks”. I’m El Gallo.
3) Take these three words and give me a 100 word or less scenario using them: freeway, shortened, click
The line on the freeway to Heaven was dramatically shortened after God ended the world with a click.
4) You’ve just been let loose in the world of fiction, with permission to do anyone you want. Who do you fuck first and why?
Ohh “fuck” is such a strong word. I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for Weena from “The Time Machine” by H.G. Wells. She got a raw deal in the book. As a young teen I wrote a fifty thousand word sequel where I led a troop of rock hard Marines to rescue Weena from that forest fire and give the Morlocks what for.
5) What is your idea of how to spend romantic time with your significant other?
Well, besides the obvious (Yes old people do it too) we like to have dinners out or a day at the local spa.
6) When you start a new story, do you begin with a character, or a plot?
I’ve done it both ways, but usually the plot comes first. An exception was the short story “The Girl in the Library” that grew into the Subspecies series. For the story, the character of lycan Samantha “Sam” Johnson demanded creation. The plot of TGITL was simple. A werewolf and vampire unknowingly stalk each other with the hook being the discovery of each other’s secret. The plot of “Subspecies” the first in the series grew from that.
7) If they were to make the story of your life into a movie, who should play you?
Steve McQueen but he’s dead. Among those still alive, Kevin Costner as he was in “The Bodyguard” would have to do.
8) Who’s your favorite horror villain and why?
I don’t know if it qualifies but the cyborg from “Terminator” is it. Besides the absolute originality of the storyline Terminator was so deliciously, un-redeemably evil.
9) Do you have an historical crush and if so, who is it?
I love many of the movie stars from the 1940’s. Don’t know why but faces like Jennifer Jones, Virginia Mayo, Donna Reed, and Teresa Wright move me more than today’s brats. An exception is Taylor Swift and Amy Adams who I have earmarked to play Cynthia and Sam when “Subspecies” becomes a movie.
10) Is there a story that you’d like to tell but you think the world isn’t ready to receive it?
Can you tell us a bit about your award-winning Subspecies series, Mike?
A Professor on Campus
Dr. Jim White, a 130-year-old Vampire, as a mathematics professor and man of science, rejects the ways and lore of old in favor of modern solutions. Lycans and Vampires, The Subspecies, live invisibly in society, because discovery is their worst fear. Resulting from a chance meeting, he has the best sex of his life and regrets the intriguing girl had to be his next victim. But she has a secret. As a Lycan, she hunted him as he hunted her.
The Girl in the Library
Samantha “Sam” Johnson, a Lycan, lived through world wars and The Great Depression, counting Al Capone and Babe Ruth as acquaintances, before settling into decades of anonymity, quietly preying on humans to live. On a chance meeting with an intriguing professor, her decision to devour him comes into question. Kill after a night of exquisite sex?
A Dynasty is Born
After discovering each others secret, neither can resist the physical attraction. Together they hunt and reach out to others of their kind using modern technology to form a support group which becomes more than either imagined.
Follow The Subspecies’ journey as they open a universe of possibilities with the promise of life being more than hunting, living in shadows, and fruitless mating.
EXCERPT
Setting the stage: Vampire Jim returned home after rescuing lycan Sam (Samantha) from police custody. With them is human attorney Oscar Young. Waiting at the apartment are young lycan Cynthia and elder vampire Ed, the rest of the support group. Oscar had just answered Jim's question regarding the rules of attorney client privilege.
The scene unfolds:
Encouraged by his answer I morphed, with fangs, pallor and red eyes.
Oscar instinctively jumped back but recovered and said with another chuckle. “What an excellent effect. How did you do it?”
By then I returned to human form. “You don’t understand. I really am a vampire,” I said.
Oscar stood and sternly replied, “Doctor White, if you think this is all a joke perhaps you should seek other representation.” He retrieved his briefcase preparing to leave.
A vampire morph is not dramatic. Most of it happens internally, expanding joints and modest bone growth. Except for the fangs I could pass for large pale man with a bad hangover. We needed a more dramatic demonstration. I turned to Cynthia. “Show him what you can do,” I said to her.
“Do I have to?” she complained. “This is a brand new outfit.”
“Please, it’s important, dear.” Sam added. Besides, I sewed in Velcro morph seams.”
Cynthia stood and stepped to the middle of the room. She faced Oscar who paused at the door. Shimmying out of her panties, she kicked them to the side with a last flick of a bare foot. Stretchy lingerie fabrics didn’t tear. Because a lycan grew when morphing, most underwear bound them painfully. Ed’s eyes locked onto the sexually aromatic wrinkle of white material shimmering at her feet. She stood erect with legs apart and hands on hips. As it molded to her butt, the black miniskirt sparkled with sequins, round like half of a disco ball. I surveyed the pleasingly dramatic arching cleft of her spine under the white blouse.
“Okay,” she said. “You asked for it.” With a ripping of Velcro, the garments separated and fell away. She expanded in all directions nearly touching the ceiling, seeming to fill the room. Arms and legs elongated as if made of modeling clay. A curved fanged snout grew out of the face some said could launch a thousand ships. Upon completing the morph she peered down on Oscar. Casual predation emanated from the height of coal black eyes.
“Convinced now?” I asked above the sound of Cynthia’s low growl.
Bug eyed, Oscar slowly retook his seat.
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The scene unfolds:
Encouraged by his answer I morphed, with fangs, pallor and red eyes.
Oscar instinctively jumped back but recovered and said with another chuckle. “What an excellent effect. How did you do it?”
By then I returned to human form. “You don’t understand. I really am a vampire,” I said.
Oscar stood and sternly replied, “Doctor White, if you think this is all a joke perhaps you should seek other representation.” He retrieved his briefcase preparing to leave.
A vampire morph is not dramatic. Most of it happens internally, expanding joints and modest bone growth. Except for the fangs I could pass for large pale man with a bad hangover. We needed a more dramatic demonstration. I turned to Cynthia. “Show him what you can do,” I said to her.
“Do I have to?” she complained. “This is a brand new outfit.”
“Please, it’s important, dear.” Sam added. Besides, I sewed in Velcro morph seams.”
Cynthia stood and stepped to the middle of the room. She faced Oscar who paused at the door. Shimmying out of her panties, she kicked them to the side with a last flick of a bare foot. Stretchy lingerie fabrics didn’t tear. Because a lycan grew when morphing, most underwear bound them painfully. Ed’s eyes locked onto the sexually aromatic wrinkle of white material shimmering at her feet. She stood erect with legs apart and hands on hips. As it molded to her butt, the black miniskirt sparkled with sequins, round like half of a disco ball. I surveyed the pleasingly dramatic arching cleft of her spine under the white blouse.
“Okay,” she said. “You asked for it.” With a ripping of Velcro, the garments separated and fell away. She expanded in all directions nearly touching the ceiling, seeming to fill the room. Arms and legs elongated as if made of modeling clay. A curved fanged snout grew out of the face some said could launch a thousand ships. Upon completing the morph she peered down on Oscar. Casual predation emanated from the height of coal black eyes.
“Convinced now?” I asked above the sound of Cynthia’s low growl.
Bug eyed, Oscar slowly retook his seat.
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Mike, can you share some of your favorite scenes from Subspecies, Inc.?
FAVORITE SCENES FROM SUBSPECIES, INC.
Samantha ‘Sam’ Johnson, a Lycan, and Jim White, a Vampire, are members of a Fortune 500 company named Subspecies, Inc., formed to promote the interests of Lycans and Vampires and integrate them into humanity. Life seems blissful, a wedding, and three children. After events force The Subspecies to reveal themselves to the world, the love of Sam and Jim is tested. While on a rescue mission in the Spanish Pyrenees to save a family friend, Jim is lost for 15 months with amnesia. As memory returns he uncovers a rogue operation working to create an army of super soldiers, and putting Subspecies, Inc. at risk.
Now reunited, can Sam and Jim continue meeting the challenges of persecution and resume the effort to deepen and perfect their love? Themes of salvation and redemption blend to evolve The Subspecies, once the most reviled and feared, toward becoming the finest expression of Creation.
Now reunited, can Sam and Jim continue meeting the challenges of persecution and resume the effort to deepen and perfect their love? Themes of salvation and redemption blend to evolve The Subspecies, once the most reviled and feared, toward becoming the finest expression of Creation.
SETTING THE SCENE:
Jim travels to Spain to be with a dying Contessa Malvina Arriago, the oldest living subspecies. He arrives amid excitement over a flurry of vampire and lycan sightings.
The Scene Unfolds:
The Guardia shot two men trying to abduct a mother and child. Reports of one changing shape in his death throes circulated on the web. According to Angelica, the media had a videotape of the incident.
“Every television station in Spain is carrying the account,” she said. “You cannot see much. The quality is poor and the authenticity is questionable.”
“So tell me Angelica,” Oscar asked, seeing an opportunity to gauge the opinion of the human community about our existence, “do you believe in such things?”
“When I was a child, the family shared dark stories of terrible creatures that turned into wolves and bats. They kidnapped and ate unwary travelers and vagrants. If I misbehaved, my parents threatened to give me over to them. The unexplained remains always with us, but no, I do not believe in them. They would be extremely skillful to never have been discovered, or else rarer than we imagine.” She stopped. Her deep brown eyes met mine in the rearview mirror and she added, “But Abuela swore to her grave, as a child, such a creature rescued her from a well into which she had fallen. Perhaps all of them are not evil, eh?”
Carole’s Death
SETTING THE SCENE:
Vampire Carole Henson was Jim White’s nanny and lover after his emergence. She knew him by the name of Tom Watkins. Jim has brought her to his home to spend her last days.
The Scene Unfolds:
The third morning I entered to find Claire keeping Carole company. She had dragged a chair next to the bed and wedged it between the vital signs monitors. Carole’s limp hand lay in her lap, enveloped by tiny, brown fingers.
“She was lonely Daddy,” Claire explained. “I wanted her to feel better.”
“As a child you were caring like this one,” Carole’s hoarse and labored voice overpowered the quiet of morning and the small noises coming from the life support machines and monitors.
“You sound better,” Sam said from behind me.
“Mommy,” Cassie asked, bursting into the room and scattering the tranquility of a moment earlier. “Bertie said we can go to the zoo? Can we?”
Sam smiled and patted her head. “We’ll see. We need to have breakfast first.” Cassie began to coax her sister and mother from the area. Claire hesitated, but the simple gratifications of an outing outweighed the subtler ones associated with keeping company with the dying, and she promptly joined her sibling.
Claire took a couple of steps down the hall then turned. “Daddy, are you coming to eat?” she asked.
“No dear,” Sam answered for me. “Daddy needs to talk to Aunt Carole. He’ll be along later.”
When we were alone, Carole spoke. “Claire is the image of your father. Humans do not appreciate the wonder of seeing the faces and personalities of parents and ancestors reappear in the young ones.”
“The experience is new for us. When the uniqueness wears off we will take it for granted, too.”
“I don’t believe that. All my life I wondered what it was like to see myself in another. After discovering so much of you in Eddie and your father in little Claire, I know I was right to hold the desire in the highest esteem. My regret is I won’t live to see me reflected in children of my own. I must take comfort from knowing someday they will be born and they may occasionally remember me.”
“You’ll always be remembered,” I said.
“Lying here with the end coming upon me I’ve had time to reflect on my life. I did often terrible things. Some were necessary, others were not. The faces of those I killed gratuitously pass in memory, and I feel guilty for ending their lives. Am I insane Tommy?”
“No. The wisdom that created the universe made a future which always provides the opportunity to regret misdeeds and to make amends.”
Carole chuckled weakly. “You sound like the Christian God,” she said.
“Sam is the family expert in that department. Since our wedding, she’s practiced the Catholic faith. I know this much. All they ask is to believe, forgive others and yourself, and you will be forgiven.”
“Do you believe?”
“I’m not sure. Their gospels, written by some of the early leaders, make a lot of sense. It’s all the rules popping up in subsequent centuries that are the problem. They can be archaic, unnatural, and confusing, something like how the American government has muddied up The Constitution with tons of complicated and often needless regulations. But whether this god or another is the true one, I do believe we can be forgiven. All we need do is to ask.”
“Will you forgive me Tommy?”
I smiled down on her. “Always.”
She confessed to me, as Sam and I had done to Father Rafe. I absolved her using the words as I remembered and dripped water on her forehead. I wasn’t sure whether what I did was appropriate or even allowed, but I couldn’t believe a loving God could find fault, and if no God existed the act lacked meaning as well as harm to anyone.
Later the same morning with Bertie and the kids on their way to the zoo, Carole uttered a deep groan.
Sam who had been sitting with her called out.
As I raced to the room, the mindless, unvarying tone of the monitors announced Carole’s passing. She lay in the bed, eyes closed with a wry smile on her face, like someone who knows something you don’t.
For the first time in our lives, we looked with knowledge upon a subspecies that had died of natural causes.
X Rated Love Scene:
I surveyed the small and impeccably crafted body as if seeing it for the first time, and maybe in some subtle way I was. The ageless tautness of defined musculature and polished creaminess never changed, but each encounter with the image opened my mind to new possibilities and dreams about us and our love.
In front of me was five feet two inches of perfection with arms folded over small breasts while a trim foot in a shower sandal tapped impatiently on the wood floor. A rush of heat slipped through me in the presence of the firmness of her muscle.
“I’m freezing, Jim,” Perfection said in a thick and pouty voice. “Warm me up.”
That broke the trance. I swept the curvy little parcel in my arms and carried it to the bed. The sheets smelled fresh. The room had been recently and thoroughly cleaned. Presented with an aromatically clean slate, our scents quickly took over.
She laughed and burrowed into the covers with me hot after her like a fox chasing a hare.
I came to rest beside a thrashing bundle of elbows and knees. Pulling the covers over us, she slipped from an attempt to pin her underneath and mounted me, wrapped in covers and rising like a red-topped gray teepee. Her body felt wonderful and responsive, as if every nerve ending networked with all parts. Each movement stretched me taut as she brushed peaking nipples and hair, both appearing auburn in the room’s light, across my heaving and titillated chest. The strokes pleasured without satisfying. When she moved, with a wonderfully sensuous flow of muscle, she seemed more aware of the capabilities of her wiles than I had ever seen before.
“Close enough?” she purred, lowering a warm cleft just above a tortured, swollen manhood.
I lay below in a hot sweat, speechless. In complete arousal, my skin seemed stretched to the point of ripping, so taut over my body there wasn’t sufficient slack for even a blink. The eyes of the fine boned face hovering above gleamed with a wonderful dreamy light. She twitched her pelvis and eliminated the last millimeters separating us.
As I probed deep inside, she slid soft fleshed breasts against me, enjoying the sizzling fires she started with every touch as her sensitive nipples erected even more. I moved a finger toward the point of contact between our fevered cores, around the part of my thick and bulging member outside of her, massaging the wet apex of her womanhood. Even if I knew nothing about her, the gasp and expression of open-mouthed rapture told me I had it right. Her eyes glazed over and we gave ourselves to the mutual orgasm that rolled through like a succession of hot effervescent waves.
“We’re not done yet, buster,” she said, retaining possession of my flaccid member inside as long as possible. After releasing it, she dropped heavily beside me.
Lying side by side, so close as if we could melt into each other, we listened to the harmony of our heartbeats in silence. This was becoming the favorite part of our lovemaking. We would wait until heat rose again like spring sap, the signal to embark on another act of amorous predation.
Second X-rated Scene.
Maria, who had waited for us to finish the conversation with Oscar, recognized her cue and led the way up one of the staircases to our room. She paused in front of the third in a line of massive wooden doors. After checking the assignment clipboard a last time she inserted the key in the lock. Sam and I both opened our mouths to tell her to stop. Our hearing allowed us to detect the sound of human activity behind the door despite its thickness, but we were too late. The hapless girl threw open the entryway, presented the well-appointed space with a graceful sweep of her arm, and then turned to the shocking exhibition of Cynthia and Juan standing naked on the floor in front of the bed intimately joined.
For about five seconds the housekeeper, Sam, and I gawked in stunned silence.
Juan stood behind Cynthia. His swarthy coloring contrasted sharply with her almost albino skin. A couple of inches shorter than Cynthia, he had a typical powerful Basque build with wide, square shoulders and vividly articulated muscles. He had lifted one of her legs and supported it in the crook of a rock-hard arm, fully opening Cynthia’s white and nearly hairless pelvis. The thigh of the uplifted leg angled up from her waist. From the knee down, the calf hung plum to the floor, ending in a red-nailed extended foot. The lifting arched her torso like a bow, stretching the abdominal muscles to their limit. He nuzzled and kissed her shoulder as it pressed against his chin. The arm nearer to me gracefully curled to somewhere on his lower back. He addressed her femaleness with a stout tool which, I noticed, Sam couldn’t help but admire. When he withdrew, the pale wetness of her femininity clung to him, filling the room with vaporous artifacts of their passion.
Despite the frenetic movement of his hips, I clearly observed four parallel scars on the nearer butt cheek, put there by Cynthia’s fingernails the first time they were together. “I always mark the guys I do,” she told me once.
Juan’s eyes were closed when we entered. I surmised he hadn’t noticed the intrusion because the pace of plunge and withdrawal continued unabated. That soon changed. Cynthia turned her head toward us. With her torso partly twisted around, the pale deltoid shape of one breast was in profile with its erect black nipple. Sable eyes fumed at us. “A little privacy would be nice.”
That snapped Sam and I out of our shock. We averted our stares and started to back out, pulling the stunned and paralyzed Maria with us. Juan now struggled with the ecstatic agony of losing concentration when on the verge of orgasm. He still pumped hard but the focus was off.
Cynthia must have realized the same thing. Muttering a curse, she reached further behind the vampire. Finding the end of the string of gold beads she had previously inserted, she began pulling them out one at a time. As each passed into the light, it resisted the contracting sphincter. The focus promptly returned. As I closed the door behind us, he convulsed in orgasm.
“Well, that was special,” Sam commented, relieved to have three inches of hard oak separating us from what transpired on the other side.
With the corporation rapidly ascending to world prominence under Samantha’s leadership, life looks good for her and the family. The majority of the Subspecies live in peace with humans, helping to rehabilitate the few remaining Ferals. The family boasts five healthy intelligent children, but from under the surface of this bright picture emerges the chilling reality they are developing like humans and will not emerge to be lycans or vampires. Most chilling of all they’ll have normal human life spans, a third of their parents’. Growing to adulthood, each child faces the issue in his or her own way. Sam’s protégé Cynthia, world famous as a fashion model actress and philanthropist, appears on any list of the most beautiful women who ever lived. She would trade it all to have children. Her wish is granted in a sadly left handed way while humanity experiences the greatest crisis in its history. Will the Whites, the corporation, and the Subspecies prevail over economic collapse and worldwide plague? Will the Subspecies die out as their hybrid children show none of their parents’ traits? Sam’s previously unshakable faith in the destiny of subspecies meets its greatest test.
Mike, you wrote a book about a rather unusual shifter, can you tell us something about that?
BLURB: for “MY LIFE AS A DOG”:
Drake Martin is a unique shape shifter. Instead of transforming into a ferocious animal, he morphs into an eight pound Yorkshire terrier. Six year old Kady Hartley rescued him from an animal shelter. As "Precious" he was her "bestest friend" for twelve years, leaving when she started college. Ten years later they cross paths. He’s a PI; she’s FBI. Continuing to keep his abilities secret from her, he follows Kady as she pursues a case. Accompany them on an odyssey to New Orleans investigating human traffickers and watch the fur fly. To protect Kady, Drake remains in the shadows. For her sake he puts aside his loner life and accepts protection and assistance of the local shifter pack under its leader, the Sufi. The pack and Drake soon discover they have a common cause, leading to a bloody confrontation with the Russian human traffickers.
During the adventure, will Drake and Kady rekindle their loving friendship or will it become much more?
EXCERPT:
Yorkie Shifter's Fateful Meeting
“Mommy, Daddy, can we get him,” the six-year-old girl exclaimed, pointing at me, the caged mess of matted tan and silver fur with beady black eyes. I returned her gaze with my best guileless, head cocked to one side expression, as if asking a question. The mother moved a plump cheeky face toward me for a closer look. “Oh, he’s so scruffy,” she said. “I thought you wanted a big dog, one you could play with.” The father’s arm remained around the girl’s narrow shoulders. “Honey, Mom’s right. You said you wanted a Lab like your friend Tommy has. This little guy won’t run around in the yard with you.” Then, turning to the shelter volunteer he asked, “What kind of dog is it, anyway?” “He’s a Yorkie, a Yorkshire terrier, purebred too. Clean him up and he will be beautiful.” Unhitching a leash from the wall, she lifted me from the cage to the floor. “Yorkies are a popular breed and live a long time. Your daughter will be able to grow up with him.” Winking at me, because I had her eating out of my paw since Monday, she added, “See how he prances around. Yorkies are so full of spirit. I just love him to pieces. I’d take him home myself but we already have two cats and two dogs. My husband would leave me if I brought home another pet.” Four feet tall, sandy hair, blue eyes, and a breath smelling of lemon drops nodded, making up her mind. “He’s the one I want.” That’s how my life changed in a split second. I’m Drake Martin, part-time hit man, most of the time private eye, lover, and shape shifter. This is the story of my life as a dog and the little girl named Kady Hartley who changed it forever.
Book Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ADvZ1EEN21U
Book Trailer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ADvZ1EEN21U
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Mike, it's been a real pleasure to have you here today. I look forward to seeing you again next month, when you'll tell us about your newest release, The Tenth Legion, fourth in the Subspecies series.
Do you have any questions for Mike? Any comments? He'd love to hear them!
Until next time, take care!
♥ Julie
