Hello all. This week’s Wednesday with Mari is going to be a little different. Right now, as I type this it is actually Tuesday evening. I’m a tad bit tired and about to have dinner with HB. Why is she telling me all this, you ask? Because I have a little experiment I am going to perform this evening that will actually BE the ‘Wednesday With Mari’ post.
Many of us have stereotyped perceptions of professions, hot firemen for example, and how they do their job. As an erotic romance writer, I am often asked the same questions over and over about my profession and how I do my job. I also know that some people picture a writer, especially an erotic romance writer, as an easy fluff job. They think that authors are tucked up in some fancy home office, sitting on a furry pillow, dressed in frilly lingerie, and sipping expensive wine and eating fruit while being served by their sex slave as they write.
The reality is quite different from the perception. It’s dirty sweats and stolen moments away from family, other jobs and responsibilities, but…. I had a thought. I’m going to try working in the fantasy environment – Lingerie, candles, music, the whole none yards.
BUT>>> because it’s me, I’m going to do EXTREME EROTIC ROMANCE writing and risk life and limb…lol… by Drunk Erotic Writing.
I know. I know.
It’s risky, it’s dangerous, and hope it’s a little fun for you. And the best part is that you get to be in on the experiment! So as I type, I am sipping that wine. I’m going to over-indulge this evening and then write a sex scene … That’s right. I going to get drunk and write a short erotic scene from my current work in progress and then post the results for your reading enjoyment.
I’ll make no changes to it. (The red text is commentary that I included as I worked last night)
Several hours later and the third bottle of wine that HB has so graciously agreed to share with me and I’m ready to start.
Here we go…
Trent entered the room and his nose immediately picked up the smell of the intruder mixed with the unmistakable fragrance that Nell leaves in her wake. His wolf reacted to both. He was angry and excited. Not a great combination. She had left him and told him she was no longer waiting for him to make up his mind. He was not going to lose her to this maniac.He turned the corner. Her lifeless body lay at the bottom of the basement stairs. For a moment his blood stopped it’s journey through his body. No breath was escaping his lungs. Nell was dead. He felt not the slightest spark from her. He had told her in the woods to leave him, that he couldn’t be with a Halfling. He’d told her to go and now she was gone and he knew that life would never be the same again.
(The freaking cat is hungry and to inform me of this, he keeps walking across the keyboard. It’s hard to type with fur up your nose.)
He stood at the top of the stairs and contemplated leaving. Leaving the job, leaving the state, hell, he could leave the f**cking country and he wouldn’t be missed by anyone but the dead half-demon at the bottom of those stairs. His knees felt weak and he slid to the floor, burying his head against the wood of the doorframe. (Ouch)
“Nell.” He whispered in a plea to the moon.
“Trent?”
Her voice was weak, but he heard it. Before his mind reacted, his body did. He was half way down the stairs before his brain registered that his senses missed her life force. He should have felt her human soul.
Trent lifted her into his lap, holding her limp curvey body close to his. “Nell. Where are you hurt?”
“I have a major headache from the thump I took on the head, but I’m okay.”
She already sounded stronger. In the back of his mind he worried about why she felt dead to him when she wasn’t, but his bigger concern was her physical condition. “Can you stand up?”
She gave him that smile that made his insides melt and ran her hand up his chest. Her eyes changed to that creamy golden color that made her even harder to resist to his wolf. How did she know that kind of shit?
(Okay. This is soooo not fair… HB is now as tipsy as I am and is playing dance music in the living room…. And he’s dancing! I am so distracted. I want to dance!!!!)“I could, but then it would be hard to fondle you.” Her smile turned naughty as her hand slid back down his chest and moved to rest over his cock. The adrenaline from the fear of losing her turned on him, and moved from making his heart throb, to making his cock pound. How did this halfling do this to a pure bread alpha wolf? She tightened her grip making him suck in a breath.
“You still want me, Trent Nichols. You may try to tell yourself that I’m not the one for you, but you still want me.” She wasn’t trying to hide her smug indignance. She owned him. He knew it as well and his wolf hated the submission. He had only one alternative, One way for his wolf to reconcile, To take.
(maybeee Trent is too much a jerk? You think? Concentrate Mari….)
Trent flipped the injured Halfling over. She squeaked in mild protest of his aggression. He knew he should keep his cool but it was way too late for that. The bitch had pushed past his limits yet again. How could he resist the feel of her under his fingertips? She was the rain to his desert. He ripped at her clothing, awkwardly pulling and tugging until she was naked and in his grasp. Somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered that she had been attacked and he had a job to do in finding her attacker and the reason for those attacks, but right now his attention was on her soft skin and round ass.
(I’m really trying to stay on track here. I’m losing motivation and the ability to concentrate on the scene. I know it’s time to crank up the heat! But I’m laughing instead of thinking seriously. Lol. Oh my. All sex seems sill y now. I think it’s because I know I’m posting it tomorrow. Maybe this isn’t as funny as I thought it would be. Maybe it’s funnier. Maybe I’m a big giant loser for even thinking about it. Lol Who knows.?)
He turned her back over. He needed to see those eyes. His hand traced their own path down her belly. He could feel her hold her breath as his hand slid into the top of her shorts. It’d only been a matter of hours since he’d had her, but the need was as strong as if it was their first time. He thirsted for a taste of her nectar.
(I have written three sentences here and deleted them all. LOL Between trying to remain aware that I’m trying to write and feeling loopy, the effort to write is losing out. Nectar? I know if I use the word nectar that the word muff is coming soon.
>>>HB is singing out loud with his headphones on- Not much of a distraction! )He took a nipple into his mouth, biting hard to make sure he had her full attention. If the woman had the nerve to scare him into the reality of knowing he truly needed her, than she had better not be playing. She moaned and leaned back opening herself up to his attentions. He let out a small moan of his own in response to her submissive arch. His hands traced the length of her back as he nibbled on her breast. The smell of her sweaty skin worked made his body tighten. This was his woman. He wished he could get past his history and have more than these stolen moments, but his nature would prevent that. He could only make these stolen moments of sexual bliss everything to the both of them.
(OMFG this sounds stupid right now! Lol…ohhh good song. brb)
Wednesday… 10am.
I came down the stairs this morning with my head a little thick and in desperate need of water. I found the house just as we left it last night. The Christmas tree lights are still on, the stereo is still blaring the 80-90’s dance music we were shaking our groove things to, and there are clothes strewn from one end of the house to the other. It is abundantly clear that HB and I had our own little party. It was a great time. You should have been here. Can you say easily distracted?? LOL
I give you the ugly reality of Drunk Erotic Writing. I love my commentary. Hot Body should have told me to put the laptop down and back away slowly. I was in here cackling out loud as I typed last night. Not the reaction you want to your own work!
“She was the rain to his desert.”? Did I actually think that was hot? Nectar? Nectar? I used the word nectar? At least I recognized is as a cliché even in my drunkenness. Oh my. The sentence structure got very frightening at times. The thing is, I was thinking as I wrote, “some of this is not that bad. I may really use it.” Bhwawawawawa.
BUT…. The most interesting thing about all this is that I don’t see a lot of dyslexic problems that I would usually have when writing sober. For those of you that are a bit lost here, I am very dyslexic. My critique partners and editors have to work very hard to catch that stuff for me (HB does it on the posts so you don’t have to read transposed words constantly). Maybe a glass of wine would help prevent form/from and barely/barley type mistakes??? Heck I switch up whole phrases at times. Maybe worth another experiment…
Get the wine! I wonder if the effects are different with Vodka?
So, there is it. Not as funny as I thought it would be, but interesting. I’m risking never getting published again by posting this for your amusement. I hope you appreciate it and learn from this highly amusing experiment. Drinking and writing sex scenes is dangerous.
Clearly a “Hey ya’ll. Watch this!” moment.
BTW… if you still looking for the Deliciously Decadent December post from Sam… scroll down. Your chances to win are still good!
Kiss Kiss
~Mari
*who promises to stay sober for all future writing*
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