Tag Archives: William Maltese

3 “Love Potion #9 … #10 … #11 … ad infinitum



#3 “Love Potion #9 … #10 … #11 … ad infinitum

July column for “The Pagan and the Pen”

We all know the scenario:

Night. Dark forest. Full-moon. Owl-hoots. Wolf howl. Wind through skeletal bare-branch trees. Flickering flames. Dancing Shadows. Cauldron. Three attending witches.

 “When shall we three meet again? In thunder, lightning, or in rain? When the hurlyburly’s done, when the battle’s lost and won…”

Or, how about the equally stereotypical …?

Eye of newt, and toe of frog, wool of bat, and tongue of dog, adder’s fork, and blind-worm’s sting, lizard’s leg…

 Okay, okay, where there’s smoke, there’s usually fire, is what I always say, and the above haven’t become “the” standards by not having some basis in reality. In that—confession, here—I have danced naked in the dark woods, have joined in mutual cauldron-stirs, have searched out eye of newt, toe of frog … albeit wing, not wool, of bat … lizard’s leg…. and a helluva lot of other crucial ingredients specifically called for by lotions and potions and salves and balms…

If I’ve found most of the potions, even those concerned with conjuring love, to be improved by uncalled-for salt, the very fact that salt is uncalled-for usually makes the end results either less potent than they should be or nullifies the effects altogether. So…

Don’t be surprised that I’m more, apt, when asked to provide the catalyst for sparking any love relationship, to recommend, something other than some foul-tasting concoction, even of mine, for the best end results. In that, there is nothing a woman or a man can serve a potential candidate for seduction, with better chances of success, than a genuinely good old-fashioned meal (salt highly recommended).

This is why, way back in 1988, when I’d achieved world-wide recognition as “Willa Lambert”, author of best-selling Harlequin SuperRomances, Diane Crawford approached me for recipes for her RECIPES OF ROMANCE, A ROMANCE NOVEL COOKBOOK, and I eagerly complied, as well as supplemented with …

“I love to cook! I cook to love! While there’s a ritual to restaurant dining that I do enjoy, there’s no better recipe for bypassing that stale chestnut ‘Would you like to come in for a nightcap?’ than both of you already relaxed on your couch, the magic of the preceding good meal undiluted by any car ride to get there.”


“More men have loved a good meal than have ever loved a good woman. The magic is to get them to somehow equate the one with the other!”

 What I believed then, I believe even more whole-heartedly now, to the extent that I’ve recently come out with a cookbook, BACK OF THE BOAT GOURMET COOKING, with the help of Bonnie Clark who is as much a gourmand as I am and is certainly as cognizant of how there’s no better way to get your man than provide him not only with a genuinely fantastic meal, on a grill, BUT to do so while out boating on some lake, ocean, or river… or while just sitting pool-side or in some wondrously secluded backyard.


Granted, this isn’t my first cookbook, although my THE GLUTEN-FREE WAY: MY WAY (written with Adrienne Z. Milligan) was aimed specifically at several friends, gluten-intolerant, on the outlook for some gluten-free ways to reel in their men.


As equally a firm believer of wine as a decidedly pleasant ingredient for successful seduction, I’ve been contracted to do my WILLIAM MALTESE’S WINE TASTER’S DIARY series, the first, SPOKANE/PULLMAN WA WINE REGION, presently at the printers and ready to begin rolling off the presses next month. On all the books in the series will be my specially estate-bottled DRAQUAL Cabernet Sauvignon 2005BV on whose label is my portrait, in my persona as the sexy vampire Vlad Draqual, as painted by Mike Bliss.

Finally, I can’t tell you how many love potions have clove as an ingredient, to the extent that I, having again assumes my love-authority Willa Lambert persona, have just published my romance novel, AFRICA: SPICE ISLAND LOVE, first in my contracted Seven-Continent series, with a story line chockablock with love influenced by the heady aroma of clove always wafting the air of exotic Zanzibar.


Speaking of Zanzibar, and my truly ghostly personal experiences there, those will be saved for another day.

In the interim, Bon Appetit! And good loving.






There’s a demon under my bed. He’s been there for a very long time. In fact, he’s been there as long as I can remember — possibly even before that.

Upon first suspecting he was there, I looked, confirmed, and told my mother. She didn’t believe me. She did, however, take a look, for herself, and assured me that there was nothing there but dust-bunnies that wouldn’t hurt me, although she would clear even those away, and she did, the very next day. She even checked my closet to provide me additional, but unasked for, assurance that there was no monster lurking there. When she left my room, she asked if I wanted the light left on. I said no. She asked if I wanted the door left ajar. I said no.

My mother thought I was afraid. I wasn’t. Don’t ask me why I wasn’t afraid, then. Don’t ask me why I’m not afraid, now. I really haven’t a rational clue. Certainly, he’s anything but benign in appearance. He has horns, reptilian eyes (red with green slits), pointy ears, a tri-forked tongue, a dual-horned chin, a horny knob on each shoulder, claws on his hands and feet, a tail, and an enormous erection, one and all covered in grayish-green scales. His erection, alone, certainly would seem threatening enough to scare the beJezus out of most young boys, let alone put the fear of God (or of the Devil) into most grown men.

I tried but once, with little success, when I was at the ripe old age of three, to record his likeness on paper; I still have the drawing.CLICK FOR LARGER VIEW

He first appeared to me, out from under my bed, when I was ten. When he spoke, I plainly heard what he said, although his long tri-forked tongue continually flicked like that of a snake. He told me to get up, wake my parents, and tell them I smelled gas. I didn’t smell gas; neither did my mother or father. The gas-line leak was just outside my bedroom window, dispersed by breeze but still potentially dangerous, especially if ever subjected to a spark; or, so insisted the amazed service man who only found the problem by using sophisticated gas-detection equipment.

During one of the deep-dark nights, of many nights, I spent in the middle of Brazil’s Mato Grasso, where I’d gone with buddies to search for Inca treasure between our junior and senior years at university, I came suddenly awake to find my demon companion present. (Yes, he manages always to be under my bed, wherever my bed might be). He told me, this time, merely to go back to sleep; that there was nothing to worry about. Next morning, enormous jaguar pugmarks were found directly outside my tent.

He showed up in New York City, in the middle of the night, so close to me, on my hotel bed, that I could have reached out and touched him. (Though tempted, then, and later, I’ve never ventured any actual contact). He told me to get up, wake my companions (one of whom was deadly afraid of fire, because of an aunt who had horrendously died in one), tell them I smelled smoke (I didn’t), and take the stairs, not the elevator, to the lobby. The hotel fire alarm sounded, but only after we’d reached the ground floor.

At the end of my Army Advanced Personnel Management Training at Fort Benjamin Harrison, Indiana, he told me to oblige whomever the man would who sit down next to me in the base theater that evening by letting the man surreptitiously (the demon’s exact word), fondle me. I was only to figure out later that my compliance was possibly responsible for my being the only one of my class sent across country for shipment out to Korea (this was after the “Conflict”); everyone else got assignments in Europe. It’s a gross understatement to say I was ticked at the time (I wanted to go to Europe, not Asia), only later changing my mind.

At the Oakland Army Terminal, California, I was demon-instructed to recognize the first Master Sergeant I met in processing me and my records for overseas assignment and compliment him on how I’d enjoyed the course he taught me during my Advanced Individual Training at Fort Ord, California. I’d never seen the MSGT before, but he apparently believed and appreciated my bit of brown-nosing, in that, through his largesse (NCOs, I was soon to discover, entirely run the military establishment), I ended up as the lone PFC on a plane of otherwise commissioned and non-commissioned officers flown to Kimpo, Korea; my peers were all placed on slo-mo boats and, much the worse for wear, arrived a good month after I did.

When honorably discharged at Fort Lewis, Washington, I learned that most of my fellow enlistees, initially sent to Europe, had ended up dead in Viet Nam. That I’d originally been assigned to Asia (thank you surreptitiously groping man in that Fort Benjamin Harrison movie theater!), was what accounted for my next and last assignment not to have been in Nam but, rather, at a safe-and-sound Armed Forces Enlistment and Examination Station in Portland, Oregon.

Obviously, things happen for reasons. So what that, in my cases, reasons seem somehow linked to my conversations with a demon?

He’s never asked for my soul in exchange for favors. He’s never asked for anything. Will he, though, ask for something, somewhere up the line? Will I, or won’t I, know what to do if he ever does?

I only know that on those nights, when I awake suddenly to complete darkness, I take a strange consolation in the movement of the mattress beneath me whenever he presses up against it, or whenever I hear his low and raspy breathing.

I only know, too, that he’s provided the inspiration for at least five of my published novels.


BHH#1 Demon Books




Art: Angle/Demon interpretations by Spanish artist Ismael Alvarez Vélez of c a B&W nude photograph of the author William Maltese as a young man (from author’s private collection)

*New* Monthly Column Coming Our Way: William Maltese Between Heaven and Hell

William Maltese Between Heaven & Hell

It is my honor to announce that The Pagan and the Pen has a new monthly column coming our way which will be written by the ever-so-fabulous Author William Maltese.

William has been in the business of publishing for a VERY long time. While most of us were still trying to get a pen, some paper, and a clue, he was out there giving us an enormous list of titles– being the first to concur an eclectic array of genres, and living a life most of us couldn’t even dare to dream of.

Just some of his genres are: male-female and male-male and bisexual fiction and romantic fiction, adventure, science-fiction, science-fantasy, horror, paranormal, adventure, espionage, mystery, intrigue, detective, play script, movie script, psychological, bondage and discipline / sadism and masochism, western,  historical, children’s male-male anthologies, male-male short stories, male-female short stories, non-fiction humor, help- and cooking and wine-exploration.

Can I just say, “You’ve come a long way baby!”

I know from personal experience that having something as simple as a conversation with William is never boring, never predictable, and would make the juiciest gossip flat out blush–except for this girl who lives in the gutter of seedy sin anyway *winks*. Needless to say, I am thinking of becoming a professional stalker, or kidnapper, or both– in his name only….but until then, I can only imagine what kinds of articles he will create for us to post.

He is easily at the top of my most colorful list and whatever brews in that delicious mind of his, is always—to die for.

Now, the official date of each article is not set yet. For now, William will be having his way with our Free for All’s. But there will be something scrumptious posted each  month.

To read more about William and his new column, please check out his permanent page: Between Heaven & Hell by William Maltese

And to get even more of a taste, check him out at his many links:

Web site





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