From the Space and Time to the Sensuality

First there will be some geek talk, and then I’m Bringing Back Sexy in an open and honest way.  If you don’t want the sexy, read the two paragraphs after this one and bid the page Audios!  No harm, no foul, and You Have Been Warned.

Onward.

 

 

For the last few days I’ve found myself in some rather interesting conversations.  Naturally, because of my geeky nature, and those of others I know, we’ve chatting up a lot of Doctor Who this week because it’s time to come up with another Doctor, and for us who are into this sort of thing, we like to talk about it.  It also helps that BBCA has been running shows all week, so that gives us the opportunity to re-watch episodes that we’ve already seen a dozen times, and snark on about what we like and what we don’t like.

"Seriously, she thinks Rose is the best?  I'm gonna have to set this bitch straight, won't I?"

“Seriously, she thinks Rose is the best companion? I’m gonna have to set this bitch straight:  that’s what The Internet is for!”

It’s been a lot of fun chatting this stuff up, particularly since I consider myself to not only be an expert on the show–because I’m old and from Chicago, which was one of the only places that used to air the show in North America in the 1970’s and 1980’s–and because I’ve personally turned a few people onto the show over the years and made them nearly as geeky as me.  Nearly, I say.  That means when the lowdown on trivia is needed, and information is required for aspect that elude others, I’m the Go To Girl for All of Time and Space.  Just call me Idris, because I may as well travel around like that.

It’s a lovely diversion, but it’s not the only one . . .

‘Cause now comes Sexy Time.  You want more?  Come on in.

 

You ready?  Let’s go, let’s go.

 

. . .

 

. . .

 

. . .

 

There’s another conversation I’ve been falling into as well, and that’s something we, in the one group I’m in–are calling our “Sex Education Talk.”  Though “sex education is really a bit of a misnomer:  it’s more like the ladies getting together and talking about kinky-ass sex–in some cases actual kinky ass sex.  It’s really been all over the place, particularly in the area of toys, which seem to get used a lot.  I don’t have a problem with toys, or lotions, or wearing articles of clothing to help ramp up the passion and sensuality, or just the out-and-out Let’s Get Down and Bang This Gong feeling that’s gonna hit in any second now.  Particularly this last, because if they’re one thing I love, it’s sexy clothing or night gowns, or even a bit of fetish wear if you can find some that (a) fits and (b) doesn’t feel like you’re encased in something unyielding.  Unless that’s exactly what you want . . .

"Hi, honey.  Guess what's for dinner?  Tacos!  You better say yes if you know what's good for you--"

“Hi, honey. Guess what’s for dinner? Tacos! You better say ‘I’m so hungry’ if you know what’s good for you–“

It’s refreshing to sit and read some of the things my lady friends have experienced, some of the wildness they’ve gotten into, and some of the advice they have for those who may be less experienced in this area.  Because if there’s one thing we’re not open about is sex.  Particularly these days, when you have buttheads running for public offices who say watching women walk around topless will lead to men becoming gay.  Dude:  projection is a total bitch.  You should do something about that.

I haven’t said much about sex in the group simply because most of what I know these days ends up on the printed page.  Sure, I’ve written erotica, most of which is pretty strange, and probably goes well beyond anything my friends would ever consider–unless it is their total kink to turn into a human-like centaur with the fully functioning genitals of both genders, and then have a couple of women get down on them.  Then they’re right up there in my ballpark, ’cause that’s how my mind works.

I am happy to know sexy is alive and well with all kinds of people, but I’m also a little saddened because it’s not something I experience.  Intimacy is something I haven’t known in some time, and likely isn’t in the cards for some time to come.  That’s kinda of choice, and it’s . . . well, complicated, just like time travel.  The reasons for it I won’t divulge, but needless to say depression played a part there, a singular lack of love played another part–and these days I’m so uncomfortable with my body that it’s difficult for me to think about getting intimate with myself.

I’ve had the “sex talk” with my HRT doctor.  We’ve discussed the changes I’m going through, which is really nothing short of Puberty Mk 2.  My doctor is also trans, so she’s been through the same thing I’m going through, and had some advice for “exploring,” if we wish to call it that.  My reactions are decidedly feminine these days; stimulation starts in different places within the body than where they happened before.  There are physical reactions now that were never present in the past, and with continuing hormone treatment those reactions will become more pronounced and intense.

I did reassure my doctor that I wasn’t about to go running around town looking to score because that’s never been my style.  I’ve always been tentative about meeting other people face-to-face, and I’ve always been uncomfortable about my body and putting it on display for others.  Even more so now, because with the physical changes I’m also experiencing the insecurity that comes with those changes.

While I would love to get a sexy night gown and feel good about myself, I’m afraid I wouldn’t, just because it’s hard for me to feel that way.

This is my idea of sexy night gowns, though my sack of potatoes body wouldn't look nearly as nice in this one.

This is my idea of sexy night gowns, though my sack of potatoes body wouldn’t look nearly as nice.  Also, I’ll do without the Hello Kitty slippers as well.

It’s taking time to get to the place where I’ll be as comfortable talking about vibrating rings and beads and schoolgirl outfits as my friends–though I really sort of see myself as the domineering Headmistress in the corset dress wearing her shiny black boots, so watch out, girls.  That doesn’t mean I can’t write about it, and I have developed some good ideas that could turn into short, hot stories.  And once I’m though with this monster of a novel I could just do that–

Or maybe I should jump in and write about a woman who spends so much time in a sexy crocheted body suit that she just can’t find the time to take it off–

Hey, you should hear some of my other ideas.

All is Fair in Fantasy and Fetish

Chapter Fourteen of Suggestive Amusements has become the literary equivalent of a cat trying to catch a laser point.  I’m concentrating on the story, I’m working at hitting my points and counts, the plot and characters and action is right there–

Oh, look!  Pounce, pounce, pounce–damn you!  Curse you, red light of death!

Some nights are better than others when it comes to focus; last night was not one.  But the thing is I hung in there, and made my thousand, and I’m closer to the end of the chapter.  Thinking about it last night, that end might come today, because I’ve made it through all the set up and the transformations and the start of the kink, and all that is left is to carry out the sexy sex.

I’m usually good with that part.

Part of what I was dealing with during writing time was trying to find the right words.  I didn’t want to say the same things over and over, so I was heading to the thesaurus constantly to find a word that wasn’t used, or hadn’t been used.  If there is one weakness in Scrivener, it’s the lack of a functioning thesaurus, because having to jump out of what you’re doing with a copied word so you can leap into an online dictionary and check all the synonyms can break their hell out of your flow.

(Yes, I know there is a very easy way to do this in Scrivener, but this is the one thing I miss from Word that I wish I had in this package, where I could get that similar word right then and there.  Today is maybe a good day to see if I can set up a template that does this for me . . .)

Fantasy has taken over my chapter, and it’s as I knew it would be.  Nothing wrong with a little crazy fantasy, and if you don’t know where it’s coming from, you haven’t been paying attention.  (Hint:  eight thousand year old preternatural people can do strange things to reality when they decide to have a little fun.)  Lots of turning into things you aren’t suppose to be, ending up with body parts that you weren’t born with, a bit of mind-churning excitement that leaves you a mess . . .

Yeah, it’s fun.  No, really, I wouldn’t lie.

The story slides into its conclusion over the next four chapters, and then it’s on to my next project.  I do figure that there are maybe twelve to fifteen thousand words remaining in the story, very few of which deal with latex covered women dreaming of submitting to their dream girls.  No, none of that–just a lot of pain.

Which is how I’ve seen this story from the start:  a painful journey of acceptance, with a bit of heartache near the end, and . . .

I know what comes after the “and”, but no one else does.  At least not yet.

Maybe by the end of the year they will.

After all, I can’t keep this story to myself forever . . .

Unicorn Porn Blood

What can I say about writing the last couple of days?  Well, almost six hundred words in last night, but only because I was watching Project Runway until 9:30, and once I returned to my computer–after hearing Susan Sarandon say of a kilt designed for some of the men working in a club she owns, “Honey, none of my boys will wear a skirt”–I started writing . . .

Started and stopping, because I was also having a conversation with someone about a book I found, and we were both having a good time talking about it . . .

I like to go out to the Smashwords homepage and look for some of the more outrageous stories that have just been published.  By “outrageous” I mean, “Strangest Sexual Story Plot,” because some are, lets be honest, amusing in their vulgarity.  Sure, you have you dom/sub stories of all ilks; you have your M/M, F/F stories; you have the “Oh, we hooked up and you’re doing (name of kinky fetish here) to me!” stories.

But, if you look closely, there are other . . . things.

You spend any time on Smashwords, you find a lot of psudo-incest story:  son and stepmom, daughter and stepfather; step siblings of all strips.  I’m looking at one title right now with a older woman who’s on a dating site, agrees to met a younger guy–surprise!  It’s her stepson.  Do you think she’s going to say, “Bad boy!  Why aren’t you doing your homework?”  Then you don’t know erotica.

You find a few others here:  teacher/student, mostly college; doctor/patient; company executive/lowly worker, which can be just about anything . . . though, seriously  I would never want to do anything with any of my managers, though I do believe there was one time in my life where I believe my manager was coming on to me, but I’m a writer, and my imagination works that way.  Or maybe it was the shoulder rub she was giving me while I was writing code . . .

We were joking about something I found yesterday, which can only be described as unicorn erotica:  young woman who can’t walk is found by a unicorn, taken for a ride, and then given the offer to walk again if only . . . well, you know what’s coming next–the unicorn!  Ba-da-boom!  Thank you!  I’m here all week!

The thing is, we looked at this story, and the other stories, and discovered a few things.  One, this particular writer had a lot of books uploaded.  All of them were between six and ten thousand words.  And all of them were about three dollars.

I started wondering:  why don’t I take some of the old, old fetish stories I used to write for free, give them a good edit, then put them up with a quick cover?  Publish them under another name, and see if I generate some cash off those words.  Right now it’s something I’m joking about, but who knows?  If there is a market for these stories, and I have curiosity about whether or not mine would sell, I should go for it.

All I need is a good profile picture.

Maybe I’ll use a unicorn . . .