A caveat: What follows is intended for adult comsumption of the denizens of Sorabji.com If you are not over 18 years of age, please go read something else. Con su permiso, Mark... [And You -- yes YOU, Inspector Gadget! Don't go checking the source code to see who posted this. At least not until after you read the story. It will spoil the effect & prevent me from realizing my goal in posting this story in the first place. So be nice okay?]. -------------------------------------------------- You can blame it all on Mark. Something he mentioned in one of his recent stories, about the notebooks he keeps filled with things he writes which he will never show to anyone, made me think about a similar collection of mine. I am not so organized as to carry or use a notebook most of the time. So I end up scribbling on whatever's handy -- brown paper shopping bags, the back of take-out menus, paper fished out of the nearest trashcan... These aren't part of the work that I consider my "real writing" -- i.e. the stuff I would show to people if I had any friends, or the stuff I send out that get rejected or ignored... These are the words that describe the feelings I hide under the bed or in the back of my closet. Dark things from the dark places inside me. But maybe they aren't really so dark. Maybe there is some modicum of talent or value in this "other" writing that I can't see, because I never share it with anyone. Maybe it's time to open up the cage & let a few of my smaller demons run wild & see what happens. So... the following is submitted for general review by my fellow Sorabjians. (And a right randy bunch you are, so you'll probably enjoy this.) After reading it , please answer 2 questions: 1. Would you pay to read a story like this in a magazine, or watch it on film? 2. Do you think the author is a man or a woman? And feel free to post any critique or comments you might have. -------------------------------------------------- "She" I was half asleep, trying to ignore my growing erection beneath the sheets, wishing a breeze would come to caress my nakedness in the steamy dark. She'd gotten me into the habit of sleeping in the raw, even in winter. The first gift I'd ever given her was a grey silk nightgown with spaghetti straps and matching panties. A short, baby-boll number like the dresses En Vogue wore in their first video. We were a couple of months into our torrid romance and I just thought she'd go for something like that. I handed her the box (which I'd taken the time to wrap myself) when I arrived to pick her up for some awards dinner she'd invited me to. She was already dressed in a white tuxeudo suit, looking quite sharp with her long silver earrings and her hair piled casually atop her head. She tore open the gift, squealed like a six-year-old, gave me a quick peck and a "Thank-you-so-much!", then dashed off to her boudoir. Five minutes later, she came strutting out in that little slipdress, her hair lose now and spilling down her shoulders in a mane of unruly curls. She pirouetted quickly in front of me, giving me a flash of her exquisite ass encased in those grey silk panties. "Like it?" she smiled. I was too dazzled to say anything except, "You don't think it's a little short to wear... y'know, out?" "Why -- don't I have the legs for it?" "Baby, you got the most dangerous legs this side of the Mississippi." "Good!" she grinned, picking up her purse and grabbing my hand. "Let's go." For much of that night, she sat across from me and kept crossing and uncrossing her gorgeous gams. That is, when she wasn't flitting about the room like an exotic silver butterfly, leaning over to shake hands or kiss the air next to someone's cheek at another table, while the hem of that almost-a-dress barely managed to keep paradise hidden from view. Whenever she walked back to our table, I could see her nipples, big and hard as acorns, bobbing seductively beneath the shimmering fabric. There were four other people at our table. All were women -- three were gay, or so she'd whispered to me when we first sat down. It was some women filmmakers event. I counted four other Sisters scattered throughout the crowd of a hundred -or-so people. room and noticed that she seemed to know all of them. There were no other Black men in the house. I spent most of the evening trying to discreetly rearrange priapus below the table and resisting the urge to pull her onto my lap whenever she walked by. I amused myself as best I could, letting one half of my brain try to guess which of the women at our table were lesbians while the other half attempted to make feminist film small talk come out of my mouth. She came back to rescue me in the nick of time. "Feeling neglected?" she teased as she sat down adn crossed those incredible legs yet again. Is there a party afterwards?" I inquired hopefully. "Do I at least get to dance with you?" "Afraid not. After the awards & the speeches, everyone pretty much heads home." She touched a passing waitress (even the help were all women) and asked "Where's the loo?" That always cracked me up, her calling it "The loo" like a Brit." "Be right back" she smiled as she headed across the room, putting more than a little wiggle in her walk for my benefit. Some minutes later, a different waitress returned and handed me her purse. "Your date said to give you this & that there's a message inside." I looked around the room for her in vain, the opened the silver minaudiere. The scent of her perfume mingled, with a wiff of her own primal muskiness, greeted me from the folds of shining grey silk. I quickly moved the purse down to my lap and discreetly pulled out her panties. "Thanks for bringing me -- know you were bored. Meet me out front..." was written in scarlett lipstick across the seat of her unoccupied underwear. As I excused myself from the table, I remembered a casual warning she had dropped during our third date... that she was into "sex in semi-public places". I had thought she was just being provacative, part of the usual mating dance. When I reached the entrance, she was waiting outside, smiling one of her slow, warm sunset smiles. Wordlessly, she took my hand and led me down the steps and around the corner to a small alley on the side of the building. It was empty except for a bare lightbulb above a door marked "Delivery Entrance". She leaned back against the door, which I noticed was exactly five shades darker than her dress. She pulled me to her and kissed me for a long moment, then pointed to the light overhead. "Can you get rid of that?" I reached up to unscrew the bulb and felt a sudden breeze as she unzipped my fly, followed by her tongue flicking across my swollen head. My free hand wandered through the forest of her curls as she sucked me languidly, rubbing the head of my dick against the soft spot at the roof of her mouth. I dropped the blub, heard it fall but not break, then roll away into blackness. I came almost immediately, with a cry so loud it echoed. My knees nearly buckled. My head was spinning. She stood up, pulled her dress up over her her bronze thighs and began stroking her dark triangle. Her mouth was slightly open in a half-smile. Her eyes glowed like stars. Lacing her arms around my neck, she hopped up, wrapping her legs around my thighs. I grabbed her ass with both hands and hoisted her up higher, feeling my hardon nuzzling her soft bush. In one swift movement I turned to place her back against the door, then slipped inside her, feeling her engluf me in her wet silken cave, deep and fragrant as a rainforest. Moving deeper into her, I found her rhythm as she clenched her thighs tighter around my hips. The heat inside her was almost unbearable... I felt myself growing even stiffer inside her, felt her wetness pulling and sucking me hungrily into an ocean of pleasure. Her head rolled back against the door as she growled my name, then moaned & locked her ankles together behind my back, drawing me even deeper within her. I felt the exquisite rush of boiling pleasure bursting from my swollen head. We came together, I stifiling a scream, she not bothering to quiet herself, trumpeted my name for all the night to hear. .................................................. That was our first intimate encounter and my first taste of semi-public sex. From that night on, I knew she was a rare bird -- beautiful, exotic, powerfully erotic. Someone who would be a joy to have, but difficult to keep. But hey -- I was more than man enough for the job! I lay in bed alone now, halfheartedly fondling my erection, drifting through a mist of memories. Three weeks had passed without a word from her. My messages on her voicemail had been ignored. Ditto for all the times I'd paged her. I know I was to blame but couldn't recall the specific nature of my crime. Benign neglect most likely -- after ten months of blissful happiness & spectacular sex, I had no doubt begun to take her for granted. But dammit, she knew we were "a couple"! Serious, steady & right as rain together. Only three month earlier, during a trip to Antigua for her birthday, I'd made a formal committment -- accompanied by a very nice pair of diamond earrings -- to love & fuck her eclusively . She seemed happy and excited at my pronouncement and echoed the same sentiments. After we returned to New York, things got pretty hetic for me at work. The merger was about to be finalized and she knew that late nights and weekends at the office were a must for me. And she was equally busy herself, shopping her partner's script around & trying to get on some independent project that was scheduled to shoot in Mexico over the summer. Who wanted to swelter in Mexico all summer -- especially for next-to-no-money? I told her the merger would be through in another 6 weeks or so, adn then I'd take a couple of weeks off and we could do whatever she wanted. I even suggested going out to the coast wither so I could introduce her to some lawyers I knew who had studio connections. But she had gone on and on about about being "a New York filmmaker" & how all the studios wanted were more homies-in-the-hood scripts or niggers-acting-a-fool comedies. How it was not accidental that not one Black female director currently had a studio deal in Hollywood. She'd said that some Chicana sister she knew from film school would be directing the Mexican project, so might be able to finagle a job as First A.D. and finally get the last few hours she needed to get into the Directors' Guild. I didn't think it was anything more than a difference of opinion. She was passionate about movies, jazz, seafood, the beach and me. I spent as much of my spare time with her as I could & we always enjoyed ourselves thoroughly -- in bed and elsewhere. That night, after our non-discussion about L.A. vs. Mexico, she'ds gotten up, showered and dressed to leave. It was a Sunday, so our evenings together usually ended around midnight. She knew I had an early day ahead of me, so her leaving didn't seem out of the ordinary. "You awake? You need to hear this..." she said as she buttoned her (actually, one of my) shirt & knotted it over her stomach. "Yeah, sure..." I replied, rolling over to face her & feign attentiveness. "Talk to me." "You never miss the water 'til the well runs dry" she said flatly, stepping into her jeans. "Is that a threat or a promise?" "Well, they say a word to the wise is sufficient... I gott ago." She bent down to kiss me on the forehead. It didn't feel at all like goodbye. .................................................. Now I lay here alone, longing for the touch of her lips once again in the stifling stillness. A thin film of sweat painted my skin. My palm was damp as it encircled my throbbing cock. I briefly pondered getting up to turn on the air conditioner, but that wold have entalied closing all the windows first. My hardon demanded immediate attention. I closed my eyes & conjured her image... the warm bronze of her skin, which was amazingly uniform overy ever inch ofher body... Her full, round hips & the way they swayed when whe walked... There was a slight stirring in the room as a merciful breeze caressed my face and shoulders. I imagined that it smelled of Night Queen, the fragrant oil she always wore to bed. Silken wisps trailed across my chest and face... Then suddenly, her mouth was on mine, tasting unmistakably of sauterne and cigarettes. I opened my eyes to find her kneeling beside me on the bed. Her elegant fingers reched out to close them. "Go back to sleep..." she whispered. "It's only a dream." She spread her nakedness over me like a blanket of heat and desire. Her mouth moved over mine, lingering to inahle my breath. Her kissess were endless and insistent, like hungry children. Her lips found the hollow between my earlobe and next and nestled there, sending heat waves through my body. And I realized this was no dream. But how had she managed to get into my brownstone? I'd offered her a key ages ago, but she had politely informed me that it wasn't necessary. "A key is not a symbol of committment. And why would I want to be here when you were not?" Her telapathic powers must have been in high gear, because she stopped kissing me just long enough to whipser "You've lived in New York long enough to know better than to leave a ground-floor window unlocked." Her hands wandered softly over me, like a cloud of butterflies, as she probed my navel with ther tongue. I felt her mouth meandering deliciously downward... She bit me gently on my hipbone, an act which always produced in me a sensation in halfway between tickling and orgasm. Her hair spilled over my thighs as she kissed them hungrily. I felt her hot, teasing breath as she rubbed her face against my hardon, then ran her tongue down the length of it. She took my left ball into her mouth and began sucking it, like a piece of ripe fruit. The pleasure was excruciating... At precisely the right moment, she released my left testicle and blew on it gently, then pulled her nails across my abdomen & thighs, making me twitch with anticiaption. My passion rose nearly to the breaking point as she took my right ball into her mouth now, sucking it and caressing it with her tongue... Finally, she relented and climbed slowly up my body, until she was straddling me. I reached up to fondle her breasts, so round and firm, like ripe, heavy melons just waiting to be tasted. She reached for me & guided me ever so slowly into her slick, hungry opening. She gasped slightly as I entered her, moving slowly downward until all of me was inside her. Then she began to fondle her breasts, rubbing her nipples between her thumb and forefinger. I studied her for a moment through half-closed eyes. The moonlight bathed her in a silvery glow, like some exquisite goddess from another dimension. I pulled her down towards me, taking one of her big, brown nipples into my mouth and sucking it greedily. Her mouth devoured my neck as she whispered sweet obscenities in my ear. Her words soon dissolved into insistent moans as she ground her hips against me, moving to ancient rhythms. I grabbed her ass with both hands and pulled her into me sharply , feeling her sweetnees contracting around me, feeling her grow impossibly more hot & wet ...I could not stop myself from exploding inside her as she contindued to ride me, oblivious to anything but her own pleasure. Soon I felt the spams inside her grow stronger, moving down her legs as she bucked wildly on top of me, her orgasm rising in her throat, crying out my name... ................................................. I awoke shortly after sunrise, suprised to find myself alone in bed again. But I knew it wasn't all a dream -- so where was she? I made my way to the kitchen, chugged some o.j. and put on a pot of the Jamacian Blue Mountain she always bought over. And inquisitive meow greeted me from beneath the table. Suddenly, Max sautnered over and stood at my feet, no doubt expecting to be fed. Why the hell was her cat here? Surely she must have at least left a note... I found it in the den, on top of my briefcase and underneath the box with the earrings I'd given her months before. A single page form my legal pad was covered with her elaborate-but-precise script: "You cannot love someone and not love their dreams. If I had asked you to drop everything & come with me to Mexico for 3 months, that would have been unreasonable. All I wanted was for you to understand why I had to go, how important it was for me to work on this pciture. I don't care about working for peanuts -- it's not about money. It never will be, for me. I want to create the kind of movies that will people change hteir minds, or make them up -- make them look at the world through new eyes. I've been searching for so long for someone who dreamed the same dreams -- or at least understood that I have to make movies, or I will shrivel up & die. You never took that to heart. You liked having a funky, artistic-type as your woman, being able to tell your friends that your girlfriend was a filmmaker. But when I told you I might have the chance to go away on a location shoot on a real film -- not just another bullshit commercial -- with a wonderful script and actors I've been dying to worjk with, all you could say was "We'll go to L.A - I'll introduce you to some people..." Look -- this would have become an issue between us sooner or later -- at least this way, it ends without any tears or tirades. You're a fabulous man & I'll never forget you. But you need a nice, stable corporate-type, someone as accomplished as you are, but not quite so ambitious. Someone who'll be thrilled to marry you, stay at home and raise your children. I will never be that person. And you will never understand that making movies is about chasing a dream -- even if that dream means rasoting in Mexico for 3 months. But considering that New York is having the hottest Spring in record, you might end roasting here anyway. The male lead on the Mexican project landed a major studio film -- his first -- and it starts shooting in August. So our schedule had to be moved up to accomodate him, so we can wrap by July 31. We start filming on Monday & my plane leaves this morning. There wasn't time for me to find anyone to sublet my apartment, so I'm leaving Max with you. There's a bag of food under your sink, but you'll have to buy a litter box -- TODAY. Maybe we can talk when I get back. But you can consider yourself a free agent as of today. Take Care, X -------------------------------------------------- Now, go take a cold shower, then come back & tell me what you think. - R.C.

i knew it was you ;)

So did I. Pretty good, but needs some fleshing out of the characters.

actually, what clued me off that it was a woman writing, is that there was no description of what the man was doing during sex - it was all the woman.

not bad. I like the fact that you took the perspective of a man, a little more challenging, and you pulled it off rather well. I will tell you this. We here at Alyson Publications are always looking for erotica. We release 2-5 erotica anthologies a year. However, of course we are a gay/les pub company. If you wanted to take on another challenge and write some lesbian erotica and even some some gay erotica, I can tell you who to give it to. And the fact that it's from a black perspective would enhance our diversity and your chances simply because we don't get that many submissions from black, gay/les writers. You would be surprised how many straight women write gay male erotica. if you want more details, email me......good luck i always wanted to write something for PH Forum, just so I could get the t-shirt, "I got a letter published in Penthouse Forum"

Go for it, R. C.! You can pull it off! Wait that doesn't sound right..

I was trying to write if from a male perspective. Apparently/I didn't do too good a job of it. And I described what she was doing to him/becuz for me/that's what sex is like: you experience & focus on what yr partner is doing to you when you're in the moment. But maybe guys don't think like that. And did it work as erotica? I mean, did it make you guys hot or not? I really wasn't interested in publishing it. But thanks, Patrick. (However, trying my hand at gay erotica seems a little too far out of my realm...) Ideally/I'd like to sell it to Zalman King for him to direct as one of the Red Shoe Diaries. (Which is my idea of good erotic filmmaking.) There's a 2nd half to it/where the relationship & the sex are described from her viewpoint. (Which I will not post here.) But at least now I know it's worth working on some more.

I liked it. The cold shower was nice idea. I take those in the morning, though. It's raining here--it complemented the mood a little, not sure why. It does need fleshing out, but there's serious potential there.

"Fleshing out" mewaning more sex? Or more character developemtn? I was going for erotica -- i.e. the sex was the main point of interest. Like something you'd read in Yellowsilk.

I personally wasn't thinking of "flesh"ing out so much, although if you're going for erotica, perhaps a little of both would be good--I'm not much of an erotica reader, though, so I don't know what to look for here.

The dead giveaway that the author was female wasn't the sex, it was the detailed descriptions of clothing and jewelry. Guys don't know, and never will find out, what a minaudiere is. Nice stuff, R.C. Keep at it. (Seems to be drawn heavily from experience?)

what is a minaudiere?

A minaudiere is a little jeweled handbag. Judith Leiber does the best ones/in semi-precious stones, etc. I actually owned one briefly -- & left it behind after a boatride party. Idiot! Yes, Markus/it's drawn from experience. Not necessairly mine. :) The fact that the girl was a wanna-be filmmaker realtes to me directly. But that's abt it. Altho' I will cop to having sex in semi-public places a few times.

I tested the link & it wdn't load. Try this instead: http://ellemag.radicalmedia.com/member/fashion/December_95/objects/

From what I know about men, Markus was right on about that.Oh shame R.C.,and didn,t I see somewhere that you turned down some big ass rock? I,m hoping to be a member of The Mile High Club this March,if I can pull it off.Love that link.

I did't *turn* it down. He proposed -- I accepted (same guy who gave me the Judith Leiber bag/BTW). But when I realized cdn't marry this guy/I gave the ring back. (Which I think is required by law in NY/if the woman breaks the engagement.) And who you plannin' to join the Mile High club with, J? Better make sure he's got bucks -- the fines for that stuff start at 5K. The airlines have really cracked down. But damn -- the details abt the clothes were really that much of a giveaway? All the details were abt the *woman's* clothes -- & men do notice what a good-looking woman is wearing... Well/when I re-work it/I guess I'll leave out all the fashion notes. Did the sex at least sound like it was a guy talking? And where's Nate & Swine? I'm dying to hear what they think abt it.

Mile high club hell thass as old as yessuhterday. Cooter an' ah have started th' 8 Foot Deep Club. Well bust mah britches an' call me streaker. Yessuh yo' heard right! We git our flashlights, galfriends (o' sisters) an' a crowbar. Whut yo' does is pop th' lid off th' sewer wif th' crowbar which kin also be used fo' gittin' yer gal in th' mood. In th' big city they call thet sexuaaal assuaaalt but out hyar we refer t'it as a sat'o'day night luv tap. Ennyway once th' lid is off, yo' shine yer flashlight down thar an' check fo' rats. Yo' kin also use th' flashlight fo' a booty plug, acco'din' t' th' code o' th' heells! See them city slickers ain't th' only ones who knows about th' PACK TH' TRASH GAME! When th' rats clear out yo' jump in an' find yo' a spot wif not too much sludge, condums, o' fecal material. Yo' doesn't wo'ry about th' smell af'er a spell, yo'll find it t'be an aphrodisiac. Heck ev'ry time I walk past a po'ta potty I git th' hardess' pecker jest fum th' odo's. An eff'n yer gal ain't th' cleaness, th' sewer gasses will covah up her fetidbeaver. T'is hyar saves her th' embarrassment an' saves yo' time spent lookin' fo' a classier date. Ya'll may be reckonin' t'yo'seff, whuts th' difference between this hyar an' th' mile high club? They both involve tight quarters fuckin', next t'th' waste producks of others. Th' difference is mah club is cheaper an' safer. Heck in th' mile high club eff'n sumpin goes wrong th' plane crashes an' yo' die. In th' 8 foot deep club th' wo'st thet goes wrong is a few rat bites, o' sombuddy puts the sewer lid back while yer down thar. Ya'll ponder it a spell an' 'rite back. crackwhore@yourmamashouse.com

Hey Cletus, howsabout th' time whena we wen down below an' foun' thet Alligato' crawlin' aroun'. Thet was some site. Mama sho'nuff was proud of us thet next day, we ett like kin's. Say, does yo' reckon Wanda an' Rhonda are a-gonna be hankerin' t'go down this hyar weekend, cuss it all t' tarnation, ah finally got mah shotgun back fum Rufus, so we kin make it a dubble dubble date an' hoof it up a shootin' dem fish outa brown lake fust an' THEN hoof it down unner fer a lil axshun

Cletus wa,s dis bout Rhonda and Wanda,i,se got a biskit in the stove with,n ya,lls name on,nt,Ise gonna tll yr daddy.

Cooter yo' knows we doesn't haf time fo' Rhonda an' Wan'a. This hyar is th' weekend thet we planned t'infitrate thet secret whitefella han'jive o'ginizashun. I'm a li'l corncern thet these varmints may be stalkers. So brin' yer scatter blastter an' extry shells. Hell eff'n nothin' comes of it we kin shoot mailboxes an' street signs. An' whuts this hyar crazy Pooter talk about tellyng Pappy, evahbody knows he was killed in th' stil sploshun of '79

Yee Haw!!! Hot Dawgone!! ah fo'got about thet intirely. Wal ok then, as enny fool kin plainly see ah's a li'l nervous about this hyar o'ganizashun. But doesn't yo' wo'ry, ah got plenty of shells fo' them fuckers, sh'd they be hankerin' t'git in th' weeds wif us. hot damn! We'll sho dem, dawgone it. But then agin, knowin' dis hyar wackoo, Lucy, we mey jest ind up achuggin' some shine and beerz wif these varmints like they were cuzins. Hell dey mebbe cuzins. ah thunk Pooter bought thet farm in 83? Oh hell it don matter, he isa gawn now, lordy res hisa soul.

I jus' want Pappy back! I jus' want Pappy back! I jus' want Pappy back! I jus' want Pappy back! I jus' want Pappy back! I jus' want Pappy back! I jus' want Pappy back! I jus' want Pappy back! I jus' want Pappy back! I jus' want Pappy back! I jus' want Pappy back!

Cletus,ya,ll aint getin away wit dis,dat was my daddy tat wuz kilt he be yorn unkle,and my mammy isa doin the jedge.

Pooter is stalkin' me! Pooter is stalkin' me! Pooter is stalkin' me! Pooter is stalkin' me! Pooter is stalkin' me! Pooter is stalkin' me! Pooter is stalkin' me! Pooter is stalkin' me! Pooter is stalkin' me! Pooter is stalkin' me! Pooter is Stalkin' me!

Pooter is stalkin' me! Pooter is stalkin' me! Pooter is stalkin' me! Pooter is stalkin' me! Pooter is stalkin' me! Pooter is stalkin' me! Pooter is stalkin' me! Pooter is stalkin' me! Pooter is stalkin' me! Pooter is stalkin' me! Pooter is stalkin' me!

Y'all are Too Stupid! I'm tellin' ya/take yr act on the road & in 2-3 years/I can promise you a prime-time sitcom. Imagine if Seinfled's hillybully cousins moved to the Big City...

HEY PPL- How r u all? sorry to those who find abbreviations offensive:] Actually in literature class at the moment, we 'Brits' are studying romantic and pornographic writing and the interlinks between them. They were all very impressed by u'r story though all the blokes had to leave to use the -restroom(it always makes me laugh when ppl call it a rest room like the usa and like u'r going to go take a nap in there:])hahah- it was very amusing to see them all traipse off looking sheepish. Are u all still mad at me????????? love l xxx

L,nobody is mad at you.Love J

P, X, and C got over it a long time ago, but I think that the vowels (and sometimes Y) are still a little upset.

Cletus, don't worry about Pooter. I'm your worst nightmare. Peanutbutter!

You showed my story to yr Lit. class? (Lucy?) Good grief! NOW what does yr Lit. prof. think this site is abt?

no- not lucy. yep i showed them the story- suddenly all the guys wanted the address of this place hahaha- all the girls said to say thanks to you for providing a good laugh at their expense hehe. lol@ M- VERY GOOD THANK YOU J, YOU'VE MADE ME FEEL MUCH BETTER :] OK, GOTTA GO, LIKE 80 PAGES OF BIO TO READ THROUGH FOR AN EXAM IN...... OH SHIT- 10 MINUTES:] LOVE L

hello? where is every1?