fiction,” I ruminated, deciding to write about a young woman's sexual exploits, her journey along a path scattered with failed relationships and punctuated with crude and illicit sexual acts.
Crystal, the twenty-two-year-old heroine, was based on me. No, she was to be my fantasy. She reflected the woman I wasn't and yet perhaps secretly desired to be.
Crystal was to live out the dreams of Jade Kimberly. How the book would end, I had 52
no idea. Where would my life take me? I wondered as I thought about Crystal's thirst for sexual gratification. To protect my identity, I decided that she'd be a photographic model rather than an author. She had money, owned a nice flat and ... and what?
Why would Crystal crave any and every sexual act imaginable? Was that my quest in life? No, of course it wasn't. I'd sucked two men to orgasm, which was completely out of character, and didn't intend to further my sexual experience by indulging in casual fucking. Fuck. A beautiful and yet vile word. Beautiful in its vileness. Fuck. A word that society never permitted to sink into the murky swamp of depravity where many believe it to belong. Fuck.
What was driving Crystal? I mused. What was goading her to commit crude sexual acts with both men and women? Simply stating that she was a nymphomaniac wasn't good enough. She had to have a reason to fuck freely. Feeling despondent, I reclined in my chair and gazed out of the window. Wondering what the difference was between erotica and pornography, I felt that my book should cross every boundary, smash the barriers of convention. Complete and utter filth without being gratuitous. Was I making my job unnecessarily difficult? Or impossible. Did David want erotica or pornography? Relationships were inherently pornographic, I concluded.
I worked for several hours and then made a ham salad for my lunch. Picking at my food, I felt that I was becoming to know Crystal. Looming from my mind, from the computer screen, she was coming to life. I knew what her likes and dislikes were, how she'd react in given situations. She dressed in revealing clothes and had an air of 53
sensuality about her. She oozed sex, but she wasn't a tart. Crystal was all woman, feminine in the extreme, sought after by men, gracious and refined - but a whore in the bedroom. Unlike me.
Spending the afternoon at my desk, I was surprised to find that I'd completed the first chapter in such a short time. Reading my efforts, I was also surprised by how well it had come together. It was as if I'd typed unconsciously, not knowing what I'd written until I read it back. Crystal's insatiable thirst for sex had been instigated by the ending of her relationship with a man she'd desperately loved. Just like Alan, he'd left her for another woman. She was out for revenge. Hating men, she used and abused them in an effort to seek vengeance. Was I out for revenge?
Feeling pleased with myself as the doorbell rang, I hoped it wasn't Alan the ex. I didn't need his whining and whinging about Angela the tart and how he'd been missing me and wanted us to get back together. Crystal would have told him where to go in no uncertain terms. Walking to the front door, I decided to seek my own vengeance by rubbing his cock through his trousers and sending him on his way with an erection. What would Crystal have done?
“Oh,” I breathed, opening the door to find Alan the musician standing on the step. “Er ... Come in.”
“Thanks,” he smiled. “I was just passing and thought I'd say hi.”
“Yes, well ... Hi.”
“You're not working, are you? I mean, I hope I haven't interrupted you.”
“No, no. I've finished for today,” I replied, leading him into the lounge.
54
“I would have phoned but I don't have your number.”
“That's OK. Er ... Coffee?” I asked, again wondering what Crystal would have done. Would she have phoned Jackie and invited her to play with his dick? “She would have asked you to leave,”
Crystal, the twenty-two-year-old heroine, was based on me. No, she was to be my fantasy. She reflected the woman I wasn't and yet perhaps secretly desired to be.
Crystal was to live out the dreams of Jade Kimberly. How the book would end, I had 52
no idea. Where would my life take me? I wondered as I thought about Crystal's thirst for sexual gratification. To protect my identity, I decided that she'd be a photographic model rather than an author. She had money, owned a nice flat and ... and what?
Why would Crystal crave any and every sexual act imaginable? Was that my quest in life? No, of course it wasn't. I'd sucked two men to orgasm, which was completely out of character, and didn't intend to further my sexual experience by indulging in casual fucking. Fuck. A beautiful and yet vile word. Beautiful in its vileness. Fuck. A word that society never permitted to sink into the murky swamp of depravity where many believe it to belong. Fuck.
What was driving Crystal? I mused. What was goading her to commit crude sexual acts with both men and women? Simply stating that she was a nymphomaniac wasn't good enough. She had to have a reason to fuck freely. Feeling despondent, I reclined in my chair and gazed out of the window. Wondering what the difference was between erotica and pornography, I felt that my book should cross every boundary, smash the barriers of convention. Complete and utter filth without being gratuitous. Was I making my job unnecessarily difficult? Or impossible. Did David want erotica or pornography? Relationships were inherently pornographic, I concluded.
I worked for several hours and then made a ham salad for my lunch. Picking at my food, I felt that I was becoming to know Crystal. Looming from my mind, from the computer screen, she was coming to life. I knew what her likes and dislikes were, how she'd react in given situations. She dressed in revealing clothes and had an air of 53
sensuality about her. She oozed sex, but she wasn't a tart. Crystal was all woman, feminine in the extreme, sought after by men, gracious and refined - but a whore in the bedroom. Unlike me.
Spending the afternoon at my desk, I was surprised to find that I'd completed the first chapter in such a short time. Reading my efforts, I was also surprised by how well it had come together. It was as if I'd typed unconsciously, not knowing what I'd written until I read it back. Crystal's insatiable thirst for sex had been instigated by the ending of her relationship with a man she'd desperately loved. Just like Alan, he'd left her for another woman. She was out for revenge. Hating men, she used and abused them in an effort to seek vengeance. Was I out for revenge?
Feeling pleased with myself as the doorbell rang, I hoped it wasn't Alan the ex. I didn't need his whining and whinging about Angela the tart and how he'd been missing me and wanted us to get back together. Crystal would have told him where to go in no uncertain terms. Walking to the front door, I decided to seek my own vengeance by rubbing his cock through his trousers and sending him on his way with an erection. What would Crystal have done?
“Oh,” I breathed, opening the door to find Alan the musician standing on the step. “Er ... Come in.”
“Thanks,” he smiled. “I was just passing and thought I'd say hi.”
“Yes, well ... Hi.”
“You're not working, are you? I mean, I hope I haven't interrupted you.”
“No, no. I've finished for today,” I replied, leading him into the lounge.
54
“I would have phoned but I don't have your number.”
“That's OK. Er ... Coffee?” I asked, again wondering what Crystal would have done. Would she have phoned Jackie and invited her to play with his dick? “She would have asked you to leave,”
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