In Shock Radio and Other Tales of Supernatural Erotica, Gabriel Daemon brings you four stories of sometimes horrific, sometimes heartwarming erotica. From the cover story in which shock jock personality Joe Rags is faced with the consequences of his immoral choices, to the romantic tale of Spirit of Love, the one connecting thread is the presence of the supernatural. Steaming hot and emotionally charged, these stories will tug at your heart as much as they will inspire your libido.

Warnings: This title contains graphic language, nonconsensual sex and elements of erotic horror.

Word Count: 37,476

ALSO AVAILABLE IN PRINT

EXCERPT:

A dry chuckle seeped through the line. “Why don’t you call me Nick?” he suggested. There came the ringing sound of a Zippo being flicked open, then the unmistakable click of steel on flint.

“Okay, Nick,” Joe said patronizingly. “So what’s your story?”

Nick exhaled on the other end, invoking an image in Joe’s mind of a dark-haired man leaning back in a leather chair, a cigarette between the fingers of a slightly-canted hand. “Well, it involves a rather pretty woman, forty-one years old. She’s held her age well, thanks to the finest body docs in Beverly Hills. Stands about five-five, little on the slender side, with dyed blonde hair. It’s a good job, really. Can’t even see her roots. Why, you might even believe she really is a blonde, since she shaves the carpet.”

Joe felt his palms getting sweaty. ‘Nick,’ whoever he was, could very well have been describing Carrie to a tee. He looked to Humpy, who stared back with wide, wondering eyes. He shrugged helplessly as if Joe had asked him a question. “Sounds a little typical to me,” Joe said. “Like you’re just making something up off the top of your head. Can’t say that I’m too impressed with the story so far.”

Nick chuckled. “Bear with me,” he said. “There’s a killer twist.”

Joe ground his teeth a moment. Nick’s voice was compelling, bidding him to continue listening. As well, he wanted to keep the man talking, if only to reassure himself that this was all an elaborate hoax. “Well, don’t keep me waiting.”

Nick laughed again. “That’s what I like about you, Joe. Ready to jump in the pool without looking for the sharks.” He paused, exhaling again. “So let’s get to it. I picked her up as she was walking to her car. Not the Mercedes, but that maroon SUV. What’s it called? A Marino?”

Joe took a breath, keeping calm. “Murano,” he corrected.

“Yeah, that’s it. Nice ride. Lots of space. Tossed her in the back where no one could see her. Oh, don’t worry, she’s not dead. I’m not into necrophilia.”