VIP Room Service by Zenobia Renquist

Guest Blog: VIP Room Service by Zenobia Renquist

Flash has graciously volunteered her blog for me (Zenobia Renquist) to take over for the day and pimp my title. Hopefully you all won’t mind. And besides, I come bearing gifts. Okay, maybe not gifts. Gift implies I’m giving you something for free. Free is a lovely word but not one I’m using this time around.

I come bearing a sale.

It’s the start of the month and bills are due and your money is leaving just as soon as it hits your bank account. I know the feeling. There’s nothing more depressing than paying the mortgage. That’s a huge chunk of change to leave all at once. But, since I like having a roof over my head, I suck it up and pay the bank.

But we weren’t put on this Earth just to pay bills. Fun must be had as well. And it doesn’t hurt if that fun is inexpensive. So how about an offer that won’t make the pennies scream as you pinch them? How about 67% off the normal price? Yup. 67% OFF.

I’ve dropped the price of my Contemporary BDSM Hotel Erotica, MFM title VIP Room Service (Other Related Duties #1) from $2.99 to 99¢ until 26 September (Saturday). That’s $2 you’re saving. TWO. Almost a gallon of gas (depending on where you live) or a drink at Starbucks. Plus you’re getting sexy read that will put some extra heat into the end of your summer.

VIP Room Service by Zenobia RenquistA hotel erotica tale hot enough to set the screen on fire.

She offers satisfaction above and beyond what is requested.

Lexie’s job as a maid at a five-star hotel doesn’t normally include the unique and risqué form of room service that rich guest Mr. Malena has requested, nor the generous tip he’s offered. Submission and exhibition and a ménage. Lexie can’t resist. What should have been a one-time thing turns into an introduction into the sensual world of customer satisfaction. This is one workplace encounter that could get her fired…or will it?

NOTE: Title previously published as Wine Service (Professional Courtesy 1).

Genre: Contemporary BDSM Erotica, MFM, Exhibitionism/Voyeurism
Publisher: DZRB Books
Length: Novella – 37K (approx. 83 pages)
ISBN: 9781634750004 (ASIN B00V8RE64K)
Price: $2.99 99¢ – On Sale! (Ends 26 Sep 2015)

Buy Links
ARe | Google | iBooks | Kindle | Kobo | Nook
Smashwords (use code FH44L at checkout for sale price)


Lexie backed up a step.

“Now, now. Don’t be frightened. Nothing untoward. I promise.”

She snorted. “What exactly is your definition of untoward? I just rode a bottle for your wanking pleasure.”

“That’s all part of wine service. As is what comes next.”


“I didn’t bring it up last night because of how skittish you were, but there is more to it than stuffing that beautiful pussy of yours with a five-hundred-dollar bottle of Chardonnay.”

“Five hun—” She choked on the word. She’d been riding a bottle of Chardonnay that cost five hundred dollars. True, she knew nothing about wines or why one cost more than another—beyond age—but hadn’t known a single bottle could cost five hundred dollars.

“Yes. In honor of you and your first night. I thought it appropriate a five-hundred-dollar woman should ride a five-hundred-dollar bottle.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Does it get you hot to think about it?”

“You’re insane.” She laughed. “You’re also joking.”

“I’m not. Call Franceska if you don’t believe me.” He gestured to the phone.

She looked at the bottle and then at him. “Five hundred dollars?”


“Wow.” She’d never had anything that pricey between her legs. Her most expensive toy had barely broken the two hundred mark, and here she’d used a five-hundred-dollar bottle of Chardonnay to get off. “So what else is there? Sex, right?”

“If you want, but not what I had in mind right this instance.” He chuckled. “I’m not as spry as I used to be. I need a little more time to regain my stamina.”

“You look plenty spry to me.” She eyed his semi-erect dick. It hadn’t gone limp after he came. A few well-placed licks would probably have it hard again in an instant.

“Bless you, dear girl. You are good for my ego.” He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back. “Now then. After riding the bottle comes drinking the wine.”

“I’m on the clock.”

“Not you. Me. And a little shouldn’t hurt your performance.” He gazed into her eyes. “Unless you’re a lightweight.”

“No, but I don’t want someone to smell alcohol on my breath either.”

“True. True. But you won’t be drinking.”

“So why do you need me?”

He kissed her hand again and ran his tongue up to her wrist. “You’re my glass.”

Want more? Read the full first chapter online at DRB1stChp Blog:

Buy Links
ARe | Google | iBooks | Kindle | Kobo | Nook
Smashwords (use code FH44L at checkout for sale price)

Zenobia Renquist is the alter-ego of D. Renee Bagby. Call her Zen or Renee, she answers to both. Air Force brat turned Air Force wife, she was born in Europe, has lived in Japan and in several states of the US, including Virginia, Florida, North Carolina, Texas, California, Maryland and Hawaii.

She moved a lot in her younger years and remembers all too well being the new kid in fish-out-of-water situations. But those experiences only made her better able to adapt, as well they gave her a love of travel, preferring road trips over flying.

Turning her favorite pastime into her career, Renee loves to build worlds and torture her characters for the enjoyment of her readers. She can’t fill everyday with writing alone, and also enjoys watching anime, reading manga, crocheting, knitting (yarn and mail), and binging shows on Netflix. She’s a Whovian (David Tennant for the win!), a trekkie (DS9 because Odo rocked), and a fan of pretty much every Marvel live action movie and DCU animated movie.

She has a wacky imagination and tends to write all over the place. In order to keep up, she only asks one thing—Leave Your Reality Behind to Discover Different and Unique Romance & Erotica.

ACK! I almost forgot….

Absolute Perfection has been accepted and edoted at Loos Id Press! WOO HOO! LOL I’ll let you know when the release date is set! This one is a m/m romance between a Imperial Naga and a Royal Sea Horse! LOL Talk about pantheons gone amok! LOL


The Road To RT….

OOOkay! Getting ready for RT! It’s almost here! WOO HOO!

No more creating costumes, no more crafting baskets, no more shopping all over the place for the perfect promo! WOO HOO!

Now its time to prepare for the drive, get ready to see friends I haven;t seen for at least a year, and time to enjoy the actual writing part by getting to talk about it with people who won;t try to lock me up when I say that my characters talk to me! WOO HOO!

I will take dozens of photos in my new costumes, I will dance and party and have fun, and I will bid farewell to RT. This is the last one I will be attending for a long time so I intend to go out with a bang! *g*

Flash, singing You Drop the Bomb on Me! LOL

My Day…Well, it could be worse…

Ooookay. I got a frantic phone call around 5 this morning. One of my bestest friends contacted me. Her Hubby is very ill, passed out on the toilet, and broke the tank.

When he came too, he cleaned up best he could and woke her up. She said she would fix it, and then noticed the slaughter.

So, early this morning, we were off to the Home Depot to replace the tank and if not the whole toilet. We stopped where I was treated to a nice breakfast sandwich and coffee. WOO HOO!

We would up having to replace the whole toilet. This is an easy fix as long as you have the equipment. We thought we did.

But first, I slashed my finger open in two places with the porcelain from the tank. I think I found the most perfect murder weapon, sharp and deadly, cleans up easily and can me crushed into so much dust and sprinkled around a beach to get rid of it. It is so sharp in fact, that I didn’t know I cut myself until I my hands started slipping in the blood during the all important bolt removal process.

Two bleed through band aids, and I mean the good ones, a rubber glove was applied to the affected hand and toilet remove carried on.

Broken pieces were removed, the new toiled uncrated in pieces, the old one and the busted tank placed very very carefully inside, and the new wax ring and toilet installed! Success! It was perfect! It was the most  beautiful porcelain throne ever…

Unfortunately, we didn’t have a flex pipe to attach the water line to the toilet. I didn’t even think about getting one when we got the new toilet. I just assumed the old one was flex. Stupid me! And I was thinking about it too! I looked at the flex pipes, I smiled at the price, and then I moved on! ARGH!

Back to the store were we got the pipe and a few other things that were on sale, and then back to the toilet and the stupid stupid pipe. And then the stupid stupid pope got revenge. The nut holding it onto the the friggin water supply would not move. We twisted, we took turns tugging, we screamed softly (her DH is still sick) and we cut up our hands. We even banged ourselves against the newly installed perfect toilet (Wished we knew about the stuck nut before we installed the new toilet)  but the ^%^@*^$ thing wouldn’t move.

Back to another store for WD40! CVS wanted 7 bucks for a small can of the shit! So… we ran across 4 lanes of traffic to the Family Dollar and got the same can for 3 bucks.

And then the nut came off with minimal blood on the new toilet.

And them my coffee was tossed into the garbage by accident.

And then the breakfast sandwich I was supposed to eat was forgotten and too cold to consume. And then my friend took me to lunch were we licked our wounds and prayed that the next fix would involve less blood shed.

three hours, two trips to the home depot, one fruitless trip to CVS so it don’t count, one trip to the family Dollar, a morning spent wet and cold (I am not even getting into how we had to haul buckets of water from the neighbors house cause her shut off valve for the upstairs WC didn’t;t work and we had to shut off the water suppl to the whole house)—-

the cost—one back ache and one hard typing hand (at least its the middle finger that is tapped up to hell and gone, especially to drivers who almost hit me while talking on cell phones) and some minor blood shed.

Being a true friend *(and cleaning up—touching toilet water) when the chips are down because actions will always speak louder than any words or gifts– priceless.

And then the mail came……WAAAAA!!!!!!!!! Not getting into it! Not getting into that! Not getting into that!!!!!


The Power of Words

I bundled in my bed, still waiting for them to come and fix my furnace, when I was struck with an epiphany of sorts.

I mean here I am at seven in the am and I am thinking prolific thoughts.

At first, i wanted to blame it on the back pain. I mean, arthritis (Not to mention falling down the friggin stairs) when its roughtly 35 degrees outside and 50 degrees in is cause for aches and pains, but clear life changing thoughts? Me? Never!

Well, maybe.

Okay, I was out and about yesterday, lap top in hand, and trying to get some work done to try and finish one of the many books I keep starting. Adult ADHD anyone? While I was trying to come up with a new and inventive way to show shifter sex, one of my best frinds called and asked that I go out to lunch with her.

Okay, I agree. I think at this point a break would be good. I just expanded Unus form the 30,000 word short into a 60,000 word prequel, and added another chapter to Lunch, and am trying to finish Bacchus for Changeling, and something, anything for EC, and…. Okay. I need a break, The voices in my head are starting to sound like white noise.

So here we are, Trish, a new friend Latrice, and I, sitting in Ruby Tuesday’s discussing their diets of all things.Low carb this, fat free that, and getting the usual slinny jokes that goes along when I mention anything about diet and exercise. Lets face it, my idea of a balanced diet is a double stuffed oreo in one hand and a baby carrot drenched in French onion dip in the other while sipping on pineapple oj with a chocolate bar waiting in teh wings.]

But they look so depressed about it, I start talking, saying anything to make them happy, to ease their minds, to get a smile. And the more they don;t smile, the more depressed I get. SO I go thought the jokes that are fit for social acceptance and some that are not,( I got to tell you all that colored joke that some idiot racist told me and I reclaimed with much laughter and shocked faces), and then observations that are dead on about some people in the place, and finally I start on personal stories about the crap that has happened to me. And would you know my life’s misery is what made them laugh?


But they were finally smiling and looking happy and the more I got the skinny jokes, and the clumsy jokes, and the you were an idipt to try and talk to that person jokes, the more futile my life seemed.

I mean here I am, trying my best to pull myself out of a writers slump, trying to get my words out of my head and onto some paper, and I realize that my life can be summed up as one big joke.

Isn;t that a kick in the arse?

It was nothing that they said, its the same old jokes over and over. It was more of the realization that as much as I want to say its otherwise, I am not normal.

Then I stared thinking about all the things that led me up to this point, the arguments with publishers, the way I fizzled out when I missed my first deadline, the disappointment I see in myself when I can;t deliver like I could a few years ago, the people who told me to go and sit in the big kids table instead of expanding my potential writer-friend base, everytime someone has told me they hated me at sight but realized that they liked me after talking to me and left me wondering what vibes do I give off if people can hate me just by looking at me, oh there was that and a lot more going through my head and I swear for the first time in years, I wanted to cry.

And then I realized that I haven;t cired in years! Not when my Mom almost died, not when I lost my adopted baby nephew and couldn’t even go to his funeral for fear of breaking into a million pieces, not when my Dad got sick and they hid it from me, not when x box pulled out all the money form my back account and managed to get away with it even after lawyers were involved, not when i fell on my ass and broke my back, not when things didn;t quite turn out the way I expected them to or when some people slapped me int he face when I tired to be a friend, not even when they had to pull that basted dead tooth out of my head with minimal anesthesia cause I was already on meds for pain and pneumonia and loss of hearing.

So now they are at the salad bar and I am sitting at the table with a shell shocked look on my face. I don;t even remember them getting up. I am sitting there, thinking about the waste my life is and thought all of this my major stresser was because I couldn’t make my friends smile?

Then the most curious think happened.

A lady walked up to me and gave me a hug.

“You are trying to hard,” she said to me.”You can’t make sense of it if you dwell on it.”

Somebody tell me what the hell that means?

Dwelling on it is what you do to get to an answer! You turn it over, you examine it from every angle, you make notes to see where you went wrong and how you approach the next time, and…

You never really see the problems if you are picking apart what you could have done to prevent it. Sigh. I guess that would make me arrogant to a degree, thinking that everything is about me or my role in it.

I guess that means sometimes thigns just happen, no miracle, no fate, nothing you can do to change it…

I don’t know. But somehow her words made me want to cry.

And I said all of that to say that some woman whom I never met before almost moved my butt to tears over a few words to someone she will probably never see again.

And a day later, I am still thinking about what she said. My ass is still skinny and freezing while waiting for the furnace guy bundled under some blankets, my bank account is still empty, I am still looking at five stories on my computer screen with all the characters screaming in my head, my friends are still trying this low carb diet, my life still seems to be fodder for America’s Next Stand-Up Master or skits for comedy shows somewhere, and her words are still ringing in my head, making me want to reevaluate, well everything!

My conclusions are …

My life is a huge cosmic joke and I am fine with that as long as I can laugh with the universe.
Shit happens.
My friends and family are vastly importatn to me as is seeing to their well being. Mother complex maybe, but if I can make life a little bit better for someone, then I feel that I have done something that God intended us to do.
I am disorganized and need to get my act together much better than the minor improvements I have made.
I need to take my own advice and write something for fun everyday so that I will never forget that I came out laughing at my misfortunes and I will probably still be laughing when someone drops a house in on my head, so I had better learn to deal with the cosmic joke thing.
I will stop letting the words of those who hate me, those who feel that I have done them wrong without even telling me what I did in the first place, those who tell me to sit at the big kids table like I am not struggling like the rest of us, those who smile in my face and talk about me behind my back, those who dismiss me as a joke that my life can sometimes become, stop flooding my mind and making me question myself…and just go have a piece of cheese cake instead. Mmmm cheese cake.
I need to call my Mommy and Daddy more.
I will always be one pay check away from disaster, unless some long forgotten rich relative leaves me in their will when they kick off…and I really doubt that will happen, so don’t buy the Vivian Westwood Rocking Horse Shoes!!! No matter where you found them on Ebay and at what cost!!!
I will pull out ever erotic book cover, bit of research, photos of bondage and domination, and submission, whips, photo’s of drag queens I have made up, make-up, and wigs, and anything else fetish that I can find and lay it out so that the repair guy will get very uncomfortable and embarrassed and stare at Den in confusion, and hurry the hell up and fix my damn furnace! Subtle revenge is the best revenge!!!

I will write this woman’s words up and place then where i can see them daily.

I guess strangers can sometimes care and their words can have meanings that the never even contemplated. So I had better be careful what I say in the future.

If that ain’t power, then I don’t know what is.