Writing for Pleasure
an erotic short story
I hit record and my voice emerges from my chest, gravely and quiet in my throat. My nerves fall away as the words sift through each rib and grace my tongue. Before long, the story I tell takes a turn.
I am working on my new novel. The third in a trilogy that has done well so far. I always use a recorder to dictate my first draft. Feeling the story through my voice has always helped me write. But this time is different, I can feel it. This time, you will be reviewing my audio files and I find myself emboldened by the knowledge that I will be in your ears with these words.
The characters were supposed to fight in the scene I am recording. But once they get in a room together there is always a sort of magical tension that is half anger, half raw pull. It has been that way throughout the trilogy and I am only now understanding that this is the scene where the tension needs to break. I record it for your ears and I wonder how you will take what is about to come your way.
I dim the lights in the room so I can get a better feel for the scene — my characters, Em and Ash, are stranded en route to Vegas.
“They’re probably already hitting the bar at the Venetian,” Em said, shooting Asher dagger eyes.
“For the last time, I am sorry I didn’t stop for gas. I thought we could make it. God. How long are you gonna punish me?”
Maybe it was the word punish. Maybe it had just been too long for Em. Or maybe the sky’s shift from blue to lavender was softening her barriers. Just a little.
“Fine, sorry,” she said softly. Em sat on the hood of the car next to the road. She still had no bars on her phone.
Asher sat next to her. He brushed a piece of hair out of her face. And somehow that was the shift she needed. She turned to him and placed a hand —
Am I really saying these words? Can I really speak them on a recording? If I do, will I be able to send them to you, or will I chicken out? But you’re the best damn editor I know.
I continue.
She turned to him and placed a hand on his chest. His heart seemed to take off. Em could feel it thudding in her palm. It softened her, feeling the effect she had on him. She knew she was too hard on him. But he was infuriating sometimes.
He took in a breath and Em could tell he was about to say something. He would probably ruin this. She shook her head and pulled her hand up to his face. His cheek was rough. Ash was trying out this new haven’t-shaved-for-a-couple-days look. It was cute. And she was done for.
The hesitancy routine was over and they both knew it.
Oh shit, I’m really doing this. I am about to record an erotica scene. My body can feel it. My face is flushed, not only because of what these characters are about to do to each other but because I am saying it out loud with my own voice. And you will be listening.
It is definitely too warm in this room. I remove my sweater and lie on the couch, continuing the scene in underwear and a tank. Much better.
Em was a take charge kind of girl and she didn’t see the need for this to be any different. Ash was also a take charge kind of guy, but he was letting her lead. Maybe she had taken him by surprise.
Em felt a rush. She moved her hands to the back of his neck and pulled him in, lips firmly meeting his, tongue showing little restraint. Years of whatever this was called, this more-than-friendship, were melting into this minute.
Asher’s taking the backseat did not last long. One minute of her lips on his and his hands were already pulling at her shirt, prying it free from her jeans. His hand glided up her torso and slipped under her bra. Em responded in the only way she could — by one-upping him.
She pulled at the top of his jeans, prying open the button and unzipping him. Her hands dove inside and wrapped around him.
I am breathing heavily now, and I wonder whether it manifests in my voice. I rewind and listen to the last few sentences. I am breathy and I sound like Em. Turned on.
I imagine the next move the two of them make on the hood of Asher’s car. Em will tease him with her hands down his pants for a few more minutes before he won’t be able to handle it anymore. Maybe I’ll have him bend her over the hood of the car. Nah, too traditional erotica. I decide to have them in the backseat like teenagers.
Em pulled her shirt off and Asher fumbled with the hooks of her bra. He was on top of her now.
I am in her head now. It is magic when this happens, when I become the characters or is it the other way around. I feel her. I am her.
I take off my own tank top, nearly feeling the desert air on my skin. Does it give Em goosebumps? My own flesh prickles. Does she feel him on her thigh, hard and ready for her? I touch my own thigh, imagining Asher there.
Em pulled off her jeans and lay on the seat under him. He looked at her with hunger in his eyes. She fished her fingers through his hair and pulled his head to her chest. He responded with his mouth on her, voraciously moving his lips all over her soft skin.
Before I realize it, I am setting the recorder down next to me and running my own hands up my chest. I think I am still speaking the story but I don’t know.
Em began to moan and pulled the thin fabric of her thong to the side. His hands moved between her thighs and his fingers found her — wet, sweet, and begging.
It’s over for me now; I can no longer control myself. The darkness in the room blankets me as the story fills me. My fingers are greedy. My moans, uninhibited. I forget any worry I have and let myself go. Loudly. I picture every moment in great detail — his chest heaving on top of me while he fills me, pushing in and pulling out rhythmically; his mouth sucking at my chest and pulling at my hair. All of it.
I crash into orgasm and feel myself tensing around my own fingers but I don’t stop and before I know it I am gaining speed again. It wasn’t enough. I need more. I think of you, of the idea that you could listen to all of this if I was bold enough to send it to you. The thought of you listening to this gives me an entirely new spark to chase.
Asher felt her come with all of her body — her voice, her soft thighs squeezing his ribs and hips. He knew she had more in her, because she wouldn’t let him stop. He pulled out of her and turned her onto her hands and knees. He grabbed her hips and pushed slowly into her from behind. Her low moan filled the back of the car. Almost a growl.
I am right there with Em, feeling every wave of pleasure, which feel like they are melding into one giant tidal wave. I am overcome and have no intention of stopping. My body shakes as I come with one final, loud cry.
Everything is still. The red light on the recorder remains steady. I hit stop and smile.
