Blast From The Past

Ladies: Fun Ways to Boot out a One-Night-Stand

© Copyright Tilly Rivers 2005, all rights reserved

It’s an equal opportunity world peeps, women can and do have one-night stands; and this is a  ‘just-for-laughs’ list on how to boot out that guy in the morning that seems a little too clingy.

{Note: for the haters, no I am not advocating one night stands, nor am I saying that you should do it- that choice belongs to the individual}

1. Ask him what his ten-year plan is for your future children…
2. Look him directly in the eye and ask him if he would like to serve you breakfast in bed….for the rest of your life.
3. Wake up with a stretch and say… “Man I had this horrible dream that I was with this guy that”… look over and exclaim, “oh sorry…”
4. Get on the phone and pretend to be looking for the justice of peace in your area…. When he looks at you strangely, cover the mouthpiece and say. “ But you said we were going to elope last night…don’t you remember?”
5. Ask him for his mother’s number so you can set a family meeting…
6. Tell him he is worthy of being introduced to your…ten…cats…
7. Ask him if he thinks the laws for stalkers are too serious….
8. Pretend to be looking for clothes in your closet and mumble that you just know your mother’s wedding dress is in here some where….
9. Roll over and ask your make believe friend Mage if she likes the man in your bed, and than have a fight why he is just the perfect one….
10. Invite him over for the weekend at your place on planet Xaina… the third planet from the tenth sun, in the second solar system….


Dear World, it’s me Tilly

Hello there World-

Maybe you have noticed but I’ve been posting more in my blog in the last week than probably in the last year; why? I could say because inspiration has struck, or that I am on the up-cycle of my funk, or some other shit like that, but as I am as honest as I can be, with you, and with myself, I’m not really sure why, I guess because it is meant to be.

I’ve been going through my archives (like the one below if you keep reading) and discovered- damn- I really am a good writer and a smart cookie, not bragging, just reminding myself because sometimes you get caught up in life and sucked into the vortex of the downward cycle called depression that you forget- or at least I do.

Below is a little something I wrote with new authors in mind as my audience, it was written in September of 2006- I hope you enjoy it and find it useful in your journey.

Sending love on the wings of the wind…

I’m not about being inside the box. As a matter of fact when my second last book was released I took a look inside the box where the seals and sharks danced in a red pool of what is termed ‘market share and competition” and pushed the box as far back as it would go. I looked up and said “You want me to dive in there? Are you nuts?”

However most of us that write and most of us that has been published and now carry the title of author think that in order to win as an author would be to be sitting on the shelf of the large bookstores like Barnes and Noble, Chapters and Indigo.

They think that to have really made it would mean that the spine of the book created by their pain, laughter, tears, frustration and hard work would be finally laying beside….oh another 80 thousand titles.

An average best seller sells about 6,000 copies in a three year term. ( National Post, August 2006) My novel sold one hundred thousand copies in fourteen days and not one of them was on a traditional book shelf. Not only did the books sell but the name of “Tilly Rivers” is recognized as one of the best writers in erotica. World Wide.

Not one book signing was at Barnes and Noble, not one book sold through Chapters. I created my own market demand; I refused to have my book collect dust on a shelf with thousands upon thousands of its cousins, with the possibility of them being put on the clearance rack, or worse, sent back to the publisher.

Now, you could say to yourself, sure, that might work for an erotica genre, but I write a different style of prose. Hmm… Okay…. I will challenge that thinking process, how many erotica novels are there? Lets just say that compared to fiction writers, romance writers, children’s books and so on, the ‘other’ categories have fifty times the competition, fifty times more sharks to add the ‘market share pond” for you the new seal to try and swim through {and make it to the other side alive} to try and sell 6,000 copies.

I always try and encourage authors to design their OWN box, sometimes they listen, sometimes they don’t. Personally I would rather have my name be the ‘only’ one noticed and have my book(s) sell and read. I would rather have readers ‘demand’ more of my books and become fans and talk about my novel(s) with their friends, but that’s just me.

You could call the way I did things: creating ‘market demand”- you know, if you wanted too. ~smiles~

You know, my Mom always said I never learned to share…

Happy Writing!

No One Will Listen. A tale of truth or fiction?

By: Tilly Rivers, © Copyright protected, 2004, all rights reserved.

I sat across from him and waited while he just looked at me. His eyes held a connotation that I wanted to decipher, what was it he was trying to tell me with his eyes?

“You’re very beautiful.”

Not what I was expecting. Not the reason I was there. He had contacted me, not the other way around; told me he wanted to tell me his story- wanted me to write it without using his name, I was intrigued, but was I foolish?-Was this just a way to meet me? Was I crazy, meeting a stranger in a coffee shop? A stranger that told me he sold his body for money and wanted to tell the truth about what it was like to be a male in the sex-for-sale game.

“Thank you.” I replied and he smiled, I noticed his voice was very monotone, he was stating a fact about my beauty, much like one would discuss the weather.

His laughter was full. “You think I am hitting on you?” his smile widened, and there was a light in his eyes for the first time in the past twenty minutes that we had sat in mostly silence. If you pay attention, you often learn more from the silence of another if you’re patient and don’t give into a natural instinct to fill the void with the sound of your own voice. Not today though, I had more questions, and no answers.

“It had crossed my mind.” I’ve always been one to speak the truth, in my line of work to tell lies had serious consequences, the truth, even if the other party didn’t like it, was always the safest option. “Are you?”

“No.” His voice was just above a whisper; however it caught my attention as if he screamed it across the room. There was a wishful note that captured me. Did he think that he had no right to flirt like the rest of the world does?

He looked at the light brown liquid in his cup, I never understood the need to add copious amounts of cream and sugar to your coffee, I always preferred mine straight up. I watched him watching his coffee much like a fortune teller reading tea-leaves analyzed the contents, and waited.

“Most of us do not remember how it started. The beginning is not what matters; it is the end that counts.”

“What is the end?”

“Right now. This very second the end continues. Sitting here with you and seeing beauty knowing you can never be part of it.”

“Why can’t you be part of it?”

“Do you know why I picked you to write my story? I’ve read your work and I can feel your passion. Passion has always eluded me, like a fairy tale or a myth, passion and love, they are like Santa Claus to me they don’t really exist. When you sell your body on the streets in order to survive you become numb to anything that resembles reality, you want to believe, you pretend, and some still carry hope, but the harsh truth always wins. You have never been touched by that kind of dark reality.” He looked up at me than, with those intense eyes of his and continued speaking in a hushed voice so I had to lean in to hear him.

“If I was to hazard a guess I’d say that when you share your body, your partner’s walk away not knowing what had just hit them…they haven’t a clue that they have been just touched with the pure essence of passion. Yet I am betting that they keep coming back…fight to keep coming back…and do not have a clue why…only that they have to touch you…touch the heat…one more time.”

“That is very flattering, but we aren’t here to talk about my sex life.”

“Do your partners wear a condom when you have shared your passion my dear?” He did not wait for my answer “Society pushes condoms; they are after all the miracle cure to all STD’s right? They protect you from AIDS, the magic cape that makes you superman. Untouchable.”

“Against condoms?”

“Hell no! But I am against men and women not understanding that a condom will not protect you unconditionally. I am against society and the media filling our brains with the notion that buying a condom will make all your worries go away.”

“Most people realize that the only true protection is abstinence.”

He grinned “Do you abstain? Come on. Sex is as much a part of our nature as breathing and eating…more so.”

I could hardly argue with the truth. “You weren’t your average Gigolo though. You catered to high society.”

“Gigolo, cute phrase don’t you think? Makes you think of a life filled with glamour. I mean women in the sex trade are called  prostitutes and hookers, and men get a cute upscale phrase like gigolo or escort. What I was sweetheart was a man…just a man…who cared so little about himself that he was willing to fuck anyone who could pay.”

I ignored the ‘sweetheart’ comment “Some have chosen this life-style and the money it brings them. Society has come to accept it more and more, some States have any legalized the sex trade.”

“You truly think that the sex trade is a chosen career path? Most were sexually abused and rationalize their actions with fucking bullshit like at least this way I have the power over my body and who touches me.”

“Men and women?”

“For me, yes. Older men. Young boys, who were experimenting, closet Gay men…as long as they had the money; men paid more, especially professional men leading a double life. As for the women, Cops wives, lawyer’s wives, wives of upscale professional men who are so fucking stupid that while he was banging his mistress he had no idea that his woman was buying me my new car with fuck money. Are they really so stupid to think they are pulling one over their wife or girlfriend? She knows, she just doesn’t give a shit anymore, she knows the relationship is about paying the bills and finds her happiness elsewhere, just like he does. The funny part? The men are so blind that they have no idea that they are being played, they think the little woman is happy at home.”

“Did you always wear a condom?”

“No. If my client asked me to ride him or her bare back, I did. For an extra fee of course.”
He paused ever so slightly before continuing “We are after all invincible right? It could not happen to me…AIDS, HIV; they are for other people right? I mean it is not like they did not know what I was, they were paying me for fuck’s sake, but somehow, some magic indestructible way it would be okay, and we are above disease.”

“Are you HIV positive? Have you infected one of your clients?”

“Client…how politically correct of you. Clients are for Investment Bankers. I did not start in this racket as a high class gigolo. I doubt anyone does. The illusion. The top of the line clothes, best apartment, best, fastest cars, drugs…. All window dressing. I began on the streets, a fuck for sale so I could eat, so I could sleep in a bed that night…it is the way we all begin.”

“How did you get on the streets?”

“Know one wants to listen…ever noticed that? The youth of our society, they do not need to listen…we are, after all talking through our hats right? Don’t know shit. Who listens? No one wants to admit that there is a dark side to each of us, that maybe it’s your husband having back-door sex with another man, that it’s your wife fucking a gigolo. The young ones are playing within the sex trade and don’t even know it, as simple as a few sexy poses on the internet, wanting to feel like they are a model or some such stupid shit- they won’t listen to their parents telling them to smarten the fuck up, they won’t listen to me, and they won’t listen to you. We all have a story, but no one will listen.”

“If you truly believe that, then why am I here?”

“I’ve read your poetry.”

“Stalk much?” That he knew I wrote poetry surprised me, few did, his comment should of made me uncomfortable, instead I was even more intrigued. Who was this man who read poetry while catering to the whims of high society men and women?

“You have an amazing insight towards life, but there is an innocence about you.”

“I’ve seen too much to be innocent.”

“No one will listen. No one wants to believe that the dark exists, that the hooker, the call girl, the gigolo…” he smiled and paused over the word, “Are someone’s child…someone’s mother, father, brother, sister. Lost souls in the dark, like some-sort of vampire living without the sun.”

“I’m here, I’m listening.”

“Have you ever known a fear so great that it has become your best friend: because it has blocked out the world? It has covered your sins in shadow; it has become the only thing you know? Have you ever been so desperate to escape the pain, to just escape…that you were willing to sell your soul if you could get one more fix?”


“Have you ever welcomed the dark, so you could just stop thinking, stop feeling…stop hurting?”


“Have you ever sold your body, so you could pretend? Close your eyes and pretend, that some one really cared…that someone loved you?”


“Have you ever watched your best friend die of AIDS? Have you ever been walking down the street and have a gun fired at the guy beside you because he could not pay his drug money that week? Watch his blood stain the sidewalk?”


“Have you ever taken your brand new sports car that was bought by flesh money: drunk, stoned, and drive it as fast as you possibly could into a hydro pole on purpose just to end it, because there is no other way out?”


He took my hand and kissed the top of it. “Keep it that way.” He stood “I’ve changed my mind about telling my story, it won’t make a difference, and no one will listen.”

I watched him leave, I knew he spoke the truth, no one wants to know, and no one would listen.


What Makes A Writer Successful?

© Copyright 2006 by Tilly Rivers: All rights reserved.

Even if I was never published again in the traditional method or otherwise I would have to write as it is a part of who I am, the substance of my true self, my inner burning fire, I truly believe that if I stopped writing that part of me would vanish, and surely I would go crazy with all those stories inside of me with no place to go. I get goose-flesh shivers at the very thought.

The question that comes up over and over again in interviews is: “What in your opinionpismo makes a writer successful?” I do not believe that writing is about sentence structure, phonics, grammar or spelling. Is this an important part of the process, of course, but is it what makes a writer successful? No. When I write, I’m not thinking about the finished product, how many words, pages or format. I don’t have a ‘recipe’ I don’t think amazing stories have a formula but an entity of its own, a living breathing thing that guides you were you need to be. I often call this flying into the mist.

A writer who understands this will be successful; it is the difference between words on a page or a journey. What makes a successful writer?  Your darkest secrets; your worst fears; countless tears; your deepest love; your sweetest dreams; your laughter. The best, and the worst of you, nothing can be held back or held in.


Ten Sex Tips For Men

Tilly Rivers
© Copyright Protected, 2009, Tilly Rivers. All international copyright laws are in full effect.

First off, you need to know that I am not a sex therapist or an expert of any kind; these are observations from my own personal experiences and ‘girl-talk’ from others.

The MOST IMPORTANT RULE: ASK and: never do anything that both of you are not open and comfortable with, than Ask. And ask again…..

1. Focus. When a woman feels beautiful, she acts, becomes beautiful. Her confidence f8a7f7ba873d1c45148cca33406cf606grows, her boldness& daring elevates. She is not scared to reveal (in her mind) those knobby knees, and not so cute elbows. She feels beautiful from the inside out.

2. Time. Taking the time to explore the ‘whole’ package of a woman will reap many rewards. Caress, feel, and absorb her body. A woman knows the difference (just as a man does) between a selfish “wham-bam’, get my rocks off and  true passion. Sorry guys but  being ‘into’ a woman can never be faked no matter how good you think you are at covering it up. When she feels how much you are into her, she will return the passion a hundred fold. Men can’t visibly see when a woman is turned on or off, as we do not have or lose an erection,  but this doesn’t mean they can’t tell if they are paying attention (point 1 focus), and are taking their time to enjoy her.

3. Communication. Tell her what turns you on. Ask her what she likes. Women as a rule are vain creatures and want to hear how ‘hot’ only she is making you. Again be careful. It is better to be silent if you do not mean it. This can not be faked either. If a woman seems like she isn’t into it, sometimes it is because she is scared of doing the wrong thing, or she isn’t into it, by asking her what she needs you can both enjoy a good sex life.

4. Respect boundaries. If she or he says, that isn’t for me, don’t try to convince them to do what you want, respect their choice, and at a later time you can discuss it. For example, she is uncomfortable with the thought of you going ‘down’ on her, the reason might be as simple as hygiene {your encounter wasn’t planned and she didn’t shower yet and felt self-conscious}, or maybe it is more complicated, however trying to change-her-mind during the act is going to cause bad feelings and neither of you are going to enjoy the experience.

5. Confidence. The tough-tender mixture. Inner strength not outward muscle, the essence of you, not the physical attributes, knowing he is confident, carries himself accordingly is a real turn on for a woman {and ladies- vise-versa}. That isn’t to say that ‘clumsy’ moments can not happen or be fun while having sex, the opposite actually, the imperfect moments can be a great ice-breaker, when you are relaxed, open and confident with your partner you will be able to laugh at these moments and they will become special.

6. Balance. Rough or Gentle? Depends on your partner, the mood and what everyone is comfortable with. Sexual desires shift, and when you know your partner well-you will be able to sense it. There should be times when you are happy to let him do every thing and others when you need control. Great sex can be wild but never cruel. No one can be a good lover if they do not regard their partner as an equal. Ask- are you okay with this? Don’t assume.

7. Presume. Never think that what excites one will work just as well for another. Each lady is different (same for men), sure the main ‘parts’ may be the same, but the ‘sensitive or trigger zones’ will vary.

8. Breasts. A lot of men still do not understand about breasts. They hurry. For some women her nipples are a direct hotline to her clitoris, for others not so much. Remember point two? When you take the time to get to know a woman’s body you will discover her hot buttons, which may or may not be her breasts.

9. The butt is recorded to be a major erogenous zone in both sexes. This requires stronger stimulation, holding & kneading, {slapping- if comfortable}. If you have completed points 1 to 7- this is a no brainier.

10. Skin/Touch. Fact: The smell and feel of a man’s skin probably has more to do with the attraction / repulsion than any other feature. Skin stimulation is a major factor. Touch. Texture. Temperature. Taste. Goes back to point two.

Women aren’t as complicated as you may think, just like a man, they want to feel sexy, wanted and desired, they DO NOT want to feel used. If you aren’t truly into that person, and have a ‘you’ll do’ attitude- do me a favour- walk away- I’m not talking ‘forever-after’ here, no one is expecting you to have a relationship with, or get married- just because you have sex- I’m taking RESPECT, I’m taking true desire, I’m talking passion.

Opening the Vault: Blast from the past/ PR about me (Tilly Rivers)


Removing the layers

Carol West, E-News, Journalist.

January 2010 (Niagara Falls, NY)-In my span of thirty plus years as a freelance entertainment journalist, I have found few writers that can not only switch genres but write from all angles; usually an author sticks to one genre, specializes in their field one might say.  However I have recently discovered a writer that has is capable of changing her spots.

The layers of Tilly Rivers are baffling, she wrote a horror story; for fun, pens poems that leave the writer, more often than not, thinking long after the final phrase is read, manages to create tingling sensations with her erotica,and recently has stepped into my arena; the media with her new project Main Street Magazine, or recently called MSM.

What impresses me the most is that her writings are not only good no matter the theme, but raw, real and sticks-to-you. This is a talent, some of us are lucky enough to write well, others even luckier to be paid for our talent,and become masters in our field, I have met very few that are master story tellers in some many arenas.

What is that saying; Jack-of-all-trades, but master-at-none? Certainly not the case here, I researched Ms. Rivers, as all good journalists do, dug deep for any dirt, as any great journalist does. What did I discover? That while she has made enemies,and is certainly the envy of many, she is what she seems. Simply a great writer!

In one of the interviews she is quoted as saying she was “born to write.” No argument here, it appears she was also born to help others through MSM, being it writing or cooking, her goal these days is being the gaffer.

In another interview, Rivers says that she is blessed with daily abundance,and wants to give back to the universal energy. Personally I do not understand the new-age law-of-attraction mumbo-jumbo, but I do get giving back. I also know for many giving back is a way of getting more publicity, self-serving, than genuine caring.  I do not get that feeling about Ms. Rivers

So, I tip my hat to you Ms. Rivers, as I removed the layers, what I discovered was a magical pen in your hands!



Blast from the past: Archived Award Announcements: TILLY RIVERS

North American Poetry Award Winner
Discussion Forum – North American Poetry Association 2005 Award Winner.





Message boards / Arts and Literature forum / North American Poetry Association 2005 Award Winner  


Author Message  
trfanclub July 20, 7:26 PM


Copy of Article from the “poetry readings” newsletter. Way to go Tilly!

North American Poetry Association

July 15,2005

North American Poetry Association
It is with great pleasure we are writing to inform everyone that once Tilly Rivers has won this year’s napa Award for best-written poetic pose.

Her poem “Fear” has been printed in over four thousand poetry magazines, newsletters and various poetry books across the United States and was voted the best poem in 2005.

This is not an easy accomplishment, not only did she win the 2005 napa award against an amazing competition of superb talent of over five hundred thousand poems printed this year. For the first time ever in poetic written history for the napa the same author has placed first two years in a row. It is with great honor that the name “Tilly Rivers” is engraved in the napa plaque and proudly displayed in our hall for the second year running.

We were sorry when she advised us that she was not able to attend the ceremony this year due to personal circumstances, her charisma and presence was greatly missed by many of her peers and fans alike because of her natural ability not only with written literary talent but also with her inborn aptitude to draw people.

Once again, congratulations Tilly. It is our great pleasure to be blessed with the gift of written charm that you bestow upon us.

Frank Peters