Listen Online

Part 1

Part 2

Curve Magazine, June 2005:

“Saint-Clair’s social realist leanings have earned her work the reputation of “the thinking woman’s lesbian romance novelist.”

curve.gif

SilentGoodbyes.gifSilent Goodbyes
Revised Edition
Layered sensuality blended with gritty realism vividly describes the complex, emotional and psychological landscape that lurks just below the surface Love + 2 women at sea + a reckless lover + loyalty + lust +  deceit + coming full circle and having to say goodbye + sensual language.
Her hair was soft, her shoulder supple and smooth under my hands.

The small of her back was taut. Her freshly brushed teeth still retained the faint taste of her mint flavoured toothpaste. I caressed the smooth curve of her buttocks. I held on to her.

Her hips moved gently against mine. But then, rather awkwardly, she unexpectedly extricated herself.

From the novel 

Life’s but a game of pinball. We are the ball. Once ejected into the world, we bounce from pillar to post, sometimes cushioned, sometimes not. The sure thing is that sooner or later, we end up in the hole – Emilie

I didn’t know it either, in my private life, that my X and I had just made love for the last time. Neither had she. We had just had out silent goodbye and we didn’t even know it – Jen Craven
Join Emilie and Solange on board Lazy Moonyacht.jpg

I reached for her hand and pulled her close to me behind the wheel. She draped an arm around my shoulder, a little stiffly at first and for a moment, together but with different eyes, churning different thoughts, we looked in the same direction, straight ahead, beyond mast and pulpit.

We eventually lost ourselves in a rare moment of total connectedness with the seascape around us.Wispy cotton-strand clouds stretched ahead.

The wind was blowing firmly but steadily. A few isolated white caps were cavorting towards us, still thin and unthreatening.

Under the afternoon sun, thick cords swelled and glistened on portside as so many silverbacks undulating away from us. The watery seal of the afternoon moon was hovering above the mast.“Here, have a feel of the wheel.”

I had eased myself away from the wheel and pulled her gently into position in front of me. “It’s a different feel than when motoring. Just keep it going as it is.

Two hundred and thirty degrees on the compass.” She glanced at the instrument and smiled as she spread her hands in a comfortable quarter to three position, feeling the gentle tug under her palms. She snuggled back against me.We gave in to the sway of the boat and rocked gently with it, her back against my chest. I nuzzled her hair, hands crossed over her stomach.

Behind us the rubber dinghy made wet slapping, gulping sounds while sighing and whispering a curious monologue in a tongue only comprehensible to the waves that lapped its soft underbelly.

Many winning ingredients make this plot a most enjoyable one.

I read it on a long night-train ride across borders.

The rain was beating down against the windows.The man across from me was snoring.The air in the compartment was stale and stuffy.Didn’t bother me much. I wasn’t there.

I was onboard Lazy Moon with Emilie and Solange.

I was the ‘fly on the wall’ as Emilie and Roberta were trying to convince each other and themselves

that they hadn’t yet reached the Point of No Return –

That they still could pull away and say goodbye – Joanna Mailer