Teaser (Totally NSFW)—Tell me your most vivid memory of your cock

First… you can now experience all of Day 1: Maybe— (and read the prologue, Before: how it begins, too)

1. Maybe: “I’m just going to enjoy knowing he’s in my pocket.”
2. Danger: “I’m looking for the elevated heart rate emoticon.”
3. (N-entirely-SFW) Words are dangerous: From hopeful to hard in three adjectives
4. Cyber-adulteress: “I don’t want you to judge me.”
5. (Totally NSFW) Tumble: “You won’t be on your feet for long.”

Second, before I give you this excerpt from about half-way into the book…. Matt and Jane have established a pattern and a rhythm—and so have I as a writer/controller of the narrative… but I’m very ambiguous at this moment about whether this excerpt works as a cut-out teaser. I mean, it’s kinda hot, yes. But it works much better as something that follows the perfectly non-erotic (but still taut) story that unfolds during Day 13 and is fully embedded in the quotidian nature of most of Day 14.

I don’t think I knew very much about writing erotica when I started writing—or finished, for that matter—Tell Me. But what I’ve learned from taking-it-apart-and-repacking-it-and-excerpting-it for literary agents, publishers, beta readers and future readers is that erotica as literature, erotica as story works best when tightly interwoven with reality. My acquisitions editor editor at Harper Collins UK said that what I wrote was “social realist erotica” —a term he might have coined, because I’ve never heard it before, have you? And so, when you excerpt the dirty bits from the plot… they’re just not as good as when they sneak up on you in the middle of the story.

But that’s because all the best writing—and all the best lovers—surprise. Don’t you think.

With that disclaimer…

from Day 14—Do what you’re told

Sunday, December 16

 I wake up… content. Mildly irritated at my husband. Physically exhausted and just slightly hung over. Sufficiently morally ambiguous that I make pancakes for everyone, my mother-in-law included, instead of checking email or Facebook. It is Sunday, after all.

Alex, Cassandra and Annie all leave to take Alex’s mother home. The boys run over to Lacey’s to play with Clayton.

I caress the keys.

Good morning.

—Good morning. I’m alone.

Mmmm. Delicious surprise.

—Are you alone?

No.

Beside me in bed. Awake. Lazy Sunday. We just fucked.

—Jesus, Matt, what the fuck is wrong with you?

I want you servicing me. In plain view.

—Tell me. Does she know what you are?

A sense.

— (What do you want?)

Perhaps she does.

—Alex knew what I was.

Gagging on my cock as she watches…

—But I think he may have forgotten.

What were you?

—Morally fuzzy, unpredictable.

—Lacking too many of the normal inhibitions.

I think you’ve reminded him lately.

—Yes

—I blame you

—and your cock

—Just the memories, reimaginings of it

—You are a dangerous man

I am.

Tell me your most vivid memory of my cock.

—Memory?

—I think…

—the first time I put my lips on it

—I don’t remember where. I think there was a party. Lots of people. You pulled me into your bedroom. Or a bedroom.

—I remember how scared I was.

Scared?

—Scared. I was 18.

I must have always been a bit scary.

—The effect you had on me always shook me profoundly.

—And see, I always knew exactly what you were

—and what you could do to me

—So: my lips on your cock. You hard instantly. Drops of pre-cum there, as if they were there always

—Its curve

—It shocks me how vividly I remember that curve

What am I?

—You? Ruled by your cock and desire

—Completely amoral when it comes to sex

—Fucking promiscuous, mildly sociopathic

—And capable of controlling me too completely

—So.

Check your email.

Taken just now.

—and such a head

Worship it

—I’m nuzzled against it.

—Tracing the veins and ridges with my finger, my tongue

Have to run to reality now, sadly. She is getting up. And I must do the same.

Get up. Do life. With a hard cock.

—Enjoy. The discomfort.

I’m trying. Failing.

xo

—xx

And. My email pings. Panic. New numbers, new arguments. Can I do a quick read, shoot it back in 30 minutes? Of course. Why not? It’s a Sunday in December, Christmas countdown, what else would I be doing today? Do these people never take any days off? The house is empty, my lover is taking his hard cock elsewhere, what the fuck is wrong with me?

Work. Read. Think. And settle. A little bit, anyway. Reality is. Reality anchors. Numbers are predictable, decipherable, reassuring.

NEXT WEEK: Something you CAN read at work: Interview for An Affair.

TOMORROW: Confession 7: Mail it out, throw up

 * * * *

So.

Tell me.

Do you want to read the book?

“God, yes! Where, how?”

“Soon, soon! Coming from Mischief, the erotica imprint of Harper Collins UK, in May 2015.* In the meantime, sign up to follow this blog? Teasers (taste Tell Me) coming every Tuesday. And… a deeper taste, here.”

*I just got the news. May, not March. Boo. Although I’m sure there’s a silver lining. We’ll find it.