My Secret Life: Writing Erotica

It warms your heart to know that reporters are just as careful and accurate reporting about each other as they are about everything else. But we didn't know about that until later. At that moment, I was asking Lorraine where we were headed.

We ended up at another condo, this place on one of the lakes not far from Dallas, owned another one of Lorraine's cousins. It was really nice, and comfortable. I'd tell you where it was, but I may want to use it again — and hide outs are scarce. But, at last, we had ditched our pursuers, and actually had a couple of days to relax and try to figure out how I was going to get past this incident with my skin intact.

***

The next day was Sunday, and Lorraine and I woke up refreshed, but with the big question still lurking: how do I explain my racy story and get myself back in the good graces of a lot of my (former) clients, neighbors and friends?

Lorraine had ducked out to get her favorite weekend paper, the New York one that carried the best-seller's list and book reviews in the Sunday edition. She said that for professional writers, it was practically required reading, to understand who was doing what to whom in the publishing industry. She was busy over in her chair reading away.

I was sitting, stretched out on the sofa, wishing that I could do like all of those famous celebrities and politicians when things get too hot — they check into some expensive clinic for rehab, and come out claiming that their problem is an 'illness' that they can't control. Its not really their fault, you see. Too bad there wasn't a twelve-step program for erotic story writers.

Wait a minute: 'therapy', that was what my stories were, 'therapy'. I write the stories as an outlet for my emotions, to let off steam and help me forget the lonely, spinster life that I — a woman of normal urges and desires — am leading. This was beginning to take shape: I'm addicted to writing erotica! Its a compulsion. Actually, I thought about it for a minute; it is pretty close to the truth.

I was just getting the whole scam organized in my head when Lorraine suddenly called my name.

"Janice, listen to this!" she said, as she read from the Book Review section,

Analects of a Book Reviewer

by Jane Thornhill

Before I get to my usual weekly book reviews, I have a confession to make, dear readers: I am addicted to short stories posted on the internet. More specifically, I am addicted to erotic stories on the 'net. And for some time, one of my personal favorites has been an erotic romance writer known only as 'IsellItInTX'. Her stories have all of the elements that I want in a Romance — attractive characters, well paced plot, conflicts that keep the main characters apart, until the final happy ending. In addition to these elements, IsellItInTX manages to maintain a sexual tension that keeps me holding my breath, until the hero and heroine can find their relief in sex scenes far too explicit to describe, even in vague terms, on these pages.

Recently, IsellItInTX has been revealed to be Dallas Real Estate Broker, Janice Johnston. I hope that some smart literary agent snags this author and gets her a mainstream contract. Ms. Johnston is ideal for the "Erotic Romance" genre. She's a best seller just waiting to happen!

"Wow!" Lorraine shouted, "Can you believe it. Jane Thornhill loves your stories! That's like getting the 'Good Housekeeping stamp of approval' for writers!"

Lorraine looked over at me to gauge my reaction. There was no reaction, because, according to Lorraine, I had fainted there on the sofa.

At 11:00, I had recovered from the shock of reading such a positive review of my stories, and was getting over the temporary emotional high. It was time I indulged my masochistic streak by turning on the TV. Specifically, I was turning on the 11 O"Clock service at the "Shepherd of Mid-Texas" Cathedral to watch Dr. Goode expel me from the congregation. Do Baptists excommunicate you, I wondered?

The first forty minutes or so were that same as always, singing hymns, prayers, passing the plate, and taking communion. So far so good. But now was the moment of truth — judgement day had arrived.

"Brothers and sisters," Goode intoned, "There has been a great weight on my heart this week. Most of you know that our sister, Janice Johnston, inadvertently emailed to many in the congregation a story containing erotic content. I know that my first reaction would have been to call sister Janice to repent in front of the congregation, and sin no more!"

A smattering of 'amens' could be heard.

Goode continued, "But, as so often when I am confused, I turned to my dear bride, Betty Sue — Betty, stand up so the good folks can see you."

Betty Sue Goode stood up from behind the massive pipe organ that she played for services, and smiled and waved to the crowd. Betty Sue was about the same age as my mother, and had curly black hair (no doubt dyed at her age,) that was cut short. Betty Sue also had one of the largest racks that I had ever seen on a woman, and her tits stood right out there. Some of the men in the congregation would get boners just seeing her on those occasions when she was on the dais. I think that was one of the main reasons that she chose to play the organ — it kept her out of sight and saved the men embarrassment. Her salary as the main church organist was one of the reasons that the Goodes qualified for the loan on that house.

Goode continued,

"When I asked Betty Sue for her wisdom and insight concerning this matter, I was surprised at the strong belief that she expounded. She told me that God created sex, and if he didn't want us to derive joy from sex, it wouldn't be so enjoyable. Betty Sue went on to tell me, that a number of members of the congregation have approached her over the years for advice on how a Christian couple could strengthen their marital bonds with respect their sexual relations. And it turns out, that she has recently been recommending that they read the stories of "IsellItInTX" to discover and explore new ways to please each other and to immerse themselves in the full joy of marriage." He smiled.

"To all of our surprise, we have learned that "IsellItInTX" is indeed Janice Johnston, the daughter of Deacon Johnston. I have consulted with the deacons and members of the congregation, and we have decided to ask Janice to assist us here at the church, and make herself available to couples who need counseling on increasing the intimacy in their relations. There are over 1000 members of the congregation who have indicated a desire to have Janice lead a class to be called 'Fulfilling the Christian Marriage', and Deacon Johnston assures me that his daughter would be willing to do her Christian duty by helping others, less blessed with the insight of sexual imagination, to keep their love alive and well ."

"And the people say," concluded Goode,

A loud "Amen!" came from the crowd.

I was flummoxed. I wasn't being given the bum's rush — I was being asked to contribute my sexual imagination? Would wonders never cease! The day was definitely looking up.

Daddy answered the phone when I called.

"OK, Daddy. How did you do it?" I demanded.

There was a chuckle at the other end of the phone.

"It was Betty Sue who helped your mom and me turn around old Duane." he replied. Duane? Dr. Goode? I never knew that Dr. Goode had a first name.

"See," Dad continued, "Before she hitched her wagon with Duane, Betty Sue used to work with your mom, as a, well, you know..."

"A STRIPPER?" I shouted.

"Yup. And more than that," there was this pause, "well you know how in some of your stories two women end up being pleasured by one man?" he shyly added.

"Oh no, Dad. Don't tell my that you and mom and Betty Sue..." my voice sounded weak.

"That was all when were much younger. But Betty is still always willing to help out your mom and I, if we need her." he added. I could almost see his smile over the phone as he remembered.

"Damn big rack on that women." he observed.

Oh, the vision in my head of mom, dad and the preacher's wife! Do you laugh or cry?

Later that afternoon, I set up my laptop, and found an available wireless network. I signed back on to my email, ready once again to begin the work of restoring my image; but at least now I was still a member in good standing at my church, and bolstered by a positive review of my stories.

Reflecting on it, that review in the paper was really encouraging — it was like getting one of those red 'H's' or green 'E's' on Erotolitica. It just made it all worthwhile to know that folks appreciated your effort! (ed: Ahem, Janice is not hinting here, dear readers, but....)

A lot of the emails from the past couple of days were more of the same. But I was determined to go through them, and send out an appropriate response.

Then I saw it. It was an email from a gal claiming to be a literary agent with the well known New York agency 'Penman's Place.' I was shaking as I opened it.

It seems that Dominique LePlume, President of PP (as Penman's Place is known in the publishing trade,), after reading Jane Thornhill's column, had jumped online and read my stories. Would I please consider coming to NYC to meet with her, expenses paid by PP, to see if I might be interested in signing on with their agency as an erotic romance writer! I shrieked, and called Lorraine over to see it. She started screaming too, and pretty soon we were holding hands while we jumped up and down, going around in a circle, like little girls.

From then on, things smoothed out for me.

I called up my neighbor from across the street, Sarah, and she told me that for the first couple of days that I was gone, there were photographers, and news vans, and all sorts of media people all over our street, day and night, hoping to catch me. She said it was hell. But by Sunday, they had gotten tired of it, and other stories had taken over the news cycle. The mob had given up. Things were back to normal, I could go home!

I never did go back to real estate. Oh, I visited the office and got a lot of hugs and kisses and congratulations from everyone, but I didn't have the time to do real estate anymore.

I was too busy writing my erotic romance novel.

After I signed with Dominique, the first thing we did was to pull all of my stories off the web, and combine them into an anthology called — "The Good, The Really Good and The Over-Sexed: An anthology of Janice Johnston's Hottest Stories." Yes, I am truly sorry about that, but if you didn't read my stories on line before, now you have to buy the book. And it been selling like hot-cakes!

My publisher is the well-known erotic romance imprint "Stratford Upon", and I have a three book contract.

Lest you think that I have forgotten my friends, heaven forbid. Lorraine is working as my personal assistant and still edits my writing. She says it beats working at the fast food place, or as a seventh-grade English teacher, ten ways to Sunday.

I gave my mom a copy of the hard-bound edition, autographed "To My Biggest Fan, Emily."

I've even gone out on a couple of dates with Trevor Bell from XDTV. He's really a pretty nice fellow, for a news reporter. I'm not sure that he finds the framed picture on my wall of him lying there in front of Lorraine's house in handcuffs to be as funny as I do.

Its pretty strange, though, doing book signings around town. I'll see someone in the line, one of the women who emailed me, calling my story trash, or porn. There they'll be, clutching a copy of the book in their arms telling everyone else in line that they are an old friend of mine, that we've always been really close, and how much they always just LOVED my stories.

I smile as I sign their books, and then I ask them how to spell their names. Aren't I just terrible!

Anyway, I have to get back to work. I have a novel to write. So I sit at my laptop and start typing:

You see, deep down inside a woman is magic. Sometimes you can touch her and the magic bursts through her skin, you can feel it when you brush your hand down her arm, or run your hand down her back...

The End

When I read this story, I hear the twangy voice of Holly Hunter saying the words...

2XWidderwoman (2XW², I think of her,) inspired this story when, exchanging emails, we got on the subject of people who have gotten in trouble by accidentally sending off emails to a larger audience than intended. We ended up, over the next couple of communications, outlining the basic story, and I asked if I could have dibs to write it. The last line of this story is from her "Woman's Magic,"(with her permission, thank you!) and if you look her up and read the comments on her bio page, like I did after her first story was posted, you might just fall out of your chair, they are so lyrical.

I hope that there are some laughs in this story for ANYONE who has written a story and posted it on Literotica. And I ask forgiveness from the women who write the deliciously sexy romance stories, like my heroine; I laugh with you, not at you. But, authors, be careful when you shoot off your story to your editor...it could happen to you!

SoCalOvid