Users Who Spiked
"Never underestimate your readers." How many times have I been told this by writing teachers and editors? Then a few years back, at least three houses ago, I had a shoe-hurling experience where I decided the saying needed a corollary.
To see if I could do it, I wrote some erotic short stories: the kind of erotica where the sex exposes or hints at something important in the character or the setting or the zeitgeist. The story plot needed the "sexual showing."
On a whim, I submitted a story, never thinking it would be published. Surprisingly, it was accepted into an anthology, Book Lovers: Sexy Stories from Under the Covers. The editor gave me an option of using a pen name, but I thought, "Hey, we're all adults here. I'm way over 21. Been married twice. No one is going to mistake me for a virgin. And readers will know the difference between fiction and reality."
Boy was I wrong.
Late one night, I lay contentedly in bed after adequate vanilla sex, looking at my playmate thinking nice, warm, fuzzy thoughts about him. He has pretty hair. Nice long legs. His momentary lapse into sleep with the accompanying snoring wasn't too bad. Maybe he's a keeper. I spooned him, and he woke up.
"Read me something you've written," he said.
"Okay dokey," I said, pulling out the laptop. He rearranged the pillows to listen attentively to a mild little story about pickles.
"That was good. Read me something else."
"Ah, I could read you a story titled Icyhot."
"It's erotica. You know, there's sex in the story."
"I'm a big boy. I can handle it."
So, I read the cautionary tale about using the 'little blue pill' in a hot tub. The room filled with condemning silence.
"How'd you like it?" I asked. His mouth pursed into a puritanical shape. In the room, the air stopped moving. Even the comforter became heavier. I turned on the overhead fan giving him a little butt wiggle in the process.
"It was descriptive," he said.
"Good. Do you want to hear some more?"
"No," and with that, he grabbed a pillow, rolled over and stuffed the pillow between his legs. Oh my.
Okay so not everyone likes my writing. Maybe he was tired from the earlier exertion. Shrugging it off, I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and slipped beneath the sheets.
Sometime later, I woke up to a squeak. Reaching out, the cold mattress proved I was alone in the bed. Silhouetted by the various electronic blinks of the cable box, TV, computers, and a 1980s cassette-playing alarm clock, my bedmate stood at the head of the stairs, naked but holding his folded clothes against his chest. I had caught him creeping down the stairs!
"What are you doing?" I asked, genuinely confused.
"The story was too descriptive. I could just see you doing that … having sex … you had to have done that … I have to leave," he fumbled.
I reached around the side of the bed. My hand found a shoe. "It's fiction, you moron," I yelled. With that I threw the shoe at the man. In an act of kindness from some divinity, the shoe hit him squarely on the forehead, bounced off his noggin to tumble down the staircase. He shook his head for a moment before continuing towards the door. There was a muffled, "Shit," halfway into the not-so-stealthy retreat. Perhaps he tripped over the shoe.
For a few anxious days, I wondered if shoe-hurling was a misdemeanor or a felony? Maybe a literary judge would call my actions a justifiable assault. I formulated a countersuit for the price of a new pair of shoes. That thrown sole had been mangled, even bruised.
For writers, this is a no-win situation. If I write erotica, will people think these are my experiences, making me un-datable? If I leave out desire and sex, vanilla and not-so-vanilla, wouldn't I delete and dismiss a big piece of the human experience? Am I underestimating the ability of my reader to deal with life in all its bountiful body fluids?
When a week had passed without being charged with assault, aggravated or justifiable, I added the necessary corollary to "Never underestimate your readers," which is "Always know your audience."
Or at least have a good aim and keep a shoe handy.
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