DWB Meta

And here I thought I was done.

This takes place outside of the world of DWB, but knowingly...if you know what I mean.

In fact, it is predicated on the, I suppose, ultimate fantasy that the subject of said DWB fantasy has actually read the story and felt compelled to reach out, to yours truly.

It is set before the Sequel by the way.

Getting pretty bloody meta now.

As always, no offence meant. Genuinely.

Anyway. Here we go.

DWB Meta

Hello Endorsin,

I read your story. And I just have to ask. Why her? Of all the women in the world, why 'E.W.'?

Anon.

Hello Anon,

Thanks for the email. The big question. I will try to be brief. Not quite as brief as you mind.

In short. It didn't have to be Her. In fact, although it might seem hard to believe, I am not even a particularly avid fan of hers. Nothing whatsoever against her of course, but this story did not start with the subject, but rather the topic.

The topic, or brief, by the way, was to tick as many boxes of erotica as I possibly could at once. And acts. And have it still make a lick of sense.

And those boxes by the way are -- an object of common fantasy -- a celebrity gives the writer somewhat of a pass on convincing the reader that the person of interest is in fact, of interest. I shouldn't have, of course...but it was more compelling.

Secondly, first times. I can't say if this is solely a male thing but, like explorers of old, there is simply something uniquely arousing in experiencing something for the first time, and also providing someone's first time. Hence the two main characters being inexperienced. I am not one of those internet fiends that think skirting the boundaries of legality is 'totally fine'. It just worked better having them inexperienced and with a birthday to celebrate.

Lastly, was to wend the story in such a way that very many things were experienced, and to so with some (admittedly fantastical) level of believability, or internal coherence. So the DWB mantra basically.

So with those criteria set, it was a matter of choosing the subject. Now in order for the DWB pendulum to swing fully, it had to be someone for whom their (publicly) known experience was just the opposite. Not to be pure per se, but to be clearly bound by fame, by the public's expectations of who they should be.

And so there were only a few real candidates. To name names, Natalie Portman would have been another perfectly acceptable one. Or some other very famous actor, perhaps known for some franchise, but also their beauty, their intellect, and even, the strong likelihood that their life could well be in some cruel way, a gilded cage of some sort.

I guess in the end, while it didn't have to be her, in a way, also, it absolutely did. And in some meagre form of defence, there are interviews with E.W. where she appears to be in fact 'sex positive' if I can use such a term, and thus I hoped that perhaps she might take it in the spirit in which it is written.

I would say lastly, that I really did struggle with publishing it at all. And in fact didn't for almost a year, and even tried to send the story to Her directly, only for it to bounce back as the email address I'd found was apparently no longer in operation. Likely for the best.

If I am being honest though, I think the only reason I actually did publish it was on the incredibly remote chance that She might read it. Anyone else reading it, to be frank, is quite embarrassing to me if I'm being honest. As in I feel bad for having done so. Too late now though I guess.

Well that went longer than I anticipated. I think that I actually wanted someone to ask me this exact question. And, in a fantasy land scenario, if She, were to write and ask me to remove it from the site. I would do so, immediately. I should anyway shouldn't I? No need to answer that last part.

Thanks again for the query.

Endorsin

Dear Endorsin,

Thanks for your prompt response.

You know it's quite hard to tell if you're being sincere. Your response sounds as if you're trying to convince yourself that you didn't do anything wrong. Or, worse; you know you did something wrong and went ahead and did it anyway.

I suspect it's because you know, or at least suspect that for the subjects of this Celebrity section, there is little to no chance that any of them would be anything other than completely disgusted by it, no matter how well written or developed the characters are. In fact that might make it worse than the lesser rest...

All of that aside. Let's pretend that 'She' did write to you, which I suspect is your real and actual fantasy, and was actually intrigued by it. Likely not willing to admit that She liked it. But was nevertheless curious as to the why Her, and why the sheer scale and depth of the weird, really rather wrong scenes, acts, that you wrote.

Was that the goal? To touch a nerve?

Anon

Dear Anon,

I submit to, and admit all that you suppose. All things at once. I acknowledge the wrongness of writing about a real person. And I feel bad about it. I also, imagine a fantasy wherein the story is taken in a way that is considered no actual harm done or intended. And taking that even further, that they, She, Her, was actually able to get something out of it. A fun, twisted, totally imaginary, path not taken.

But enough about all of that. Did you actually like the story? Any of it? And if so, which parts?

I suppose one thing that would inform this discussion somewhat is whether you are male or female. If the latter, then I would very much like to know how it made you feel? Was there anything in there that broke away from the male gaze/perspective long enough to be of interest to you?

Aside from it being an obvious male fantasy, it was still written as an attempt to bring the female character along with it. In fact the central conceit was her breaking free after all.

Obviously it was heightened, to go as far and as dirty as possible, a more realistic version would simply have been to have some relatively carefree sex and leave it at that. But that would have been a wholly different, much more vanilla story, and one that anyone could easily think up on their own rather than bothering to read.

But I wrote it for myself. As an exercise in what was lacking. And as a fantasy as I apparently want to read.

That is all I can say about it really.

Endorsin

Dear Endorsin,

I am female. I can't prove it so you will just have to believe me.

Did it work? Does it work as a story? Sure. It's well written and there is an internal coherence.

Which parts? Well...the best part was the story B tells in the sauna. The worst? Probably the windscreen scene, just because it was the least believable, among many strong contenders.

I have to wonder...have you written anything else? Or more? A follow-up?

Also, you say you're not English, or British perhaps. Where are you from then?

Anon

Dear Anon,

Yes the windscreen scene was a late addition. But I felt that I needed something to escalate things such that the scene that followed, the most questionable really, would be in some way believable. It was a risk that may not have worked. Sorry.

Funnily enough I have. Written more. I really didn't think I would but then I had an idea, and away it went. And have just about finished it. It's not quite the same as the first though -- it's a bit sillier, more expansive (more characters, famous ones actually). Do you want to read it?

How about I give you the option of deciding whether or not I should publish it? You can be my moral compass.

See attached.

As to where I'm from. Well. I'm not sure I should say. Not England. Nor Greater Britain. But I am I suppose a subject of the Queen, even if I'd prefer not to be. So not American. Far from it. And you? Since we're asking such things.

Endorsin.

Dear Endorsin,

I just finished the Sequel. It's...still good. But not as good as the first one, I think. Too many characters competing for the narrator's attention? But it still hits some good notes. Still much more interesting than most. I'll give you that.

You seem to have leaned in to your ambivalence about the story itself. M's duality seems to be your own does it not? To both love and hate the things that you are writing about?

As to publishing it...The issue is that you're no longer talking about just one celebrity's reaction, but five more. From E.W's perspective, it's probably no worse than the first. So she might say 'You've already gone there, don't let me stop you on my account.' But would the others?

I guess it's not more dirty or wrong than the first entry, about par. That would've been a mean feat, in both senses of the word!

If anything it just makes the question of why the need to use a celebrity all the more. You clearly have enough sordid ideas running through your head. Why is celebrity, and what it means to those so inflicted, so interesting to you? I imagine that the very celebrities you write about fantasise about not being celebrities, so if anything they're the least likely to actually read your stories aren't they?

Lastly, I am actually English. I will admit to that. But I travel a lot for work. I will say though that you did a pretty good job of setting it in England if you're not from there. We can drink in pubs at 16 though, so you kind of duffed it from the get go if you don't mind me saying.

I think I know what I want to say to you. And perhaps, what you want to hear. Finally.

If I were E.W. I would be both disgusted by your story, and somewhat flattered. Mainly in how hard you tried to paint her as a real, if fantastical, person. It must be incredibly hard to have grown up being famous, and being objectified from an unfairly young age. But as an adult, now knowing and having had to become resigned to the harsh realities of the world, if works such as these must exist out there, at least you have tried to make it somewhat balanced in your portrayal of how she must feel about it all. Even if it invariably means her having extremely absurd and over the top sexual adventures.

Is that what you want to hear?

Anon

Anon,

That is exactly what I want to hear yes. If we were to pretend that you are Her I guess I would say this....

While it means the world to me that you (she) didn't hate it. Or me for having written it. The thing that matters most is whether or not you can live with it. And not hate me for having written it.

But going further, cheekily, I would push for a more...personal...answer to the following question;

Did it turn you on? Did it make you wish that in another world, some, any, all of it might have actually come to pass? Could you have found a freedom that was otherwise denied you, in your fame, your gilded cage?

Any answers would be greatly appreciated, but not all expected.

Endorsin

Dear Endorsin.

To pretend. For a moment.

Yes. Yes it turned me, 'Her' on. More than I ever might have imagined reading something about myself, written by someone that doesn't know the first thing about the real me.

More than that though. It makes me wonder not about the scenes as written, but about the person that wrote them. What kind of mind is able to tap into my inner psyche, one that I didn't even know existed prior?

How does one manage such a thing? I read. A lot. And not just filth such as this. Real literature. And I can't honestly say that any of it quite managed to transport me to such a place as your work.

In fact [blushing] I can't stop reading it truth be told. 'DWB' seems to have struck a chord, such that I can't help but imagine what else you might have stored up in that twisted mind of yours...?

I notice you still haven't published the sequel. I've thought about it and I think you should. The more I think about it the more I wonder if the other actors might not also benefit of being folded into your DWB erotic universe, if I might use such a common, naff term. You never know, perhaps one of them might reach out to you as well. I suppose I could, let's 'pretend', even send it to some of them, although I'm not sure I'd quite dare to!

Dear Anon,

I've read, and re-read your last email, quite a few times now. And I can't help but fantasise about the possibility that it is indeed true, and we are not quite pretending you to be Her as we say we are. And I think to myself 'Well how would I ever know?' The answer to which might be that they place some word, a signal, out into the world that confirms their true selves, with complete plausible deniability of course. Some random word, like, I dunno, pineapple, or something, that would mean nothing to anyone other than you, and I.

Well. That really would be quite something wouldn't it?!

Yours,

Endorsin.

***Weeks pass****

Dear Endorsin,

Shit.

I am writing this having...done something...

Something I now feel almost certain that I most definitely should not have. Done.

Never mix wine, and empty hotel room, and a Wifi connection.

If you've seen it. Well. I can hardly deny it I suppose. The odds of such a coincidence would be so small for anyone to scarcely believe wouldn't they?

So. Yeah.

Pineapple.

Fuck. Please tell me that you will keep this all in the strictest confidence.

Yours,

Anon(ish)

***Hours pass***

Dear Anon(ish),

So. It took me a while to find to be honest. I'm not actually a stalker, plus I don't really use that social media platform. But find it I did.

And all I can really say is;

Wow.

Now, let me reassure you, although perhaps not in the way you might expect (this is all confidential, that's a given, on my end anyway). More so, is the fact that I still can't be actually sure it is the eponymous account holder, and not either someone that managed to hack their way in, or a social media helper, or, and this is the paranoid part, that it's not all simply an elaborate ploy to out me and make an example of me to all the other despicable Fanboys that you might lump me in together with.

And so, I would say that you haven't given up nearly as much as you might well fear.

In point of fact I can't even think of a way in which you, if you are indeed Her, could, and I be reassured, short of something that I almost certainly know you would never do -- something lewd and undeniable basically.

In short, you're all good.

If anything, I'm sorry for suggesting something that wouldn't even do what I said/thought it would. So please don't stress.

All of that aside though, I will now fully suspend all disbelief and reply thusly.

Wow. Fucking wow!

Well, I can only say that it is truly an honour. An unexpected, but wholly welcome honour. I have questions. So many questions.

The first, of course, is did you really like the story? How far off was it from you might have liked to be the case? I know that you're not nearly as repressed as I presented you in the story, I mean you're a reasonable deal older than 18 after all. So I know that the whole innocence lost thing isn't really relevant. I guess I am most curious to know if you have been able to find a true connection with anybody? For them to see you for you? Have you? Do you even expect to?

I can't imagine what it must feel like trying to find connections with people when you can never really know if your fame isn't playing a part in it all.

Any response whatsoever will be greatly appreciated.

And lastly, I hope the wine is wearing off without too dire a consequence.

Yours,

Endorsin.

***Days pass***

Dear Endorsin,

Well. I am recovered from the wine, but not the accompanying foolish impulsive act.

I suppose I should have thought of your having such a reaction. It's still no real relief of course, but also, if I'm being honest, a little disappointing.

So, now that I am myself again...I have to say the following, before we go any further at all;

In the (admittedly rarefied) world of celebrity, any and all communications of the vaguely sordid variety works like this -- to put it crudely --

NDA first, STI Panel second. And then. No promises whatsoever.

I'm sure you get what I mean.

The problem is that, an NDA, such as that attached, and you were to sign it, well, you would necessarily out your identity. The panel too obviously.

And it's not like we're going to meet anyway.

There's more though, that you don't know, and you likely won't like.

Again, it's kind of the rarefied stuff of the rich and famous.

In short, I have access to people who have access, to things, that they're not supposed to have access to...in short, money can buy anything.

And so, I hope you're not too shocked when you read the following;

I know who you are. I have done from the get go:

So hello, Redacted Redacted

Now you know.

I apologise for the invasion of privacy, but well, I guess you could say that you started it.

And in case you don't believe me. Well. What would you say then when I ask you if you enjoyed the package that arrived at your home on Thursday your time? Did you enjoy the treats? I hope you liked the beer and wine. They were recommended to me by a friend from your hometown.

You probably thought your work sent it to you or something? With the card saying 'Good work.' and all. Well. No. I was referring to your story.

Also re-read the card. 'Drink. Wine. Beer.' See anything in that you recognise? I designed that myself.

So.

Now it's my turn to reassure you. I will not do anything with this information. I have already decided that. And for quid pro quo, if you will see attached NDA, and (just out of interest, are you as dirty as your mind...?) panel.

Once returned, I will provide the same, as well as collateral that you seek, firstly to reassure you that I in fact who I said I am, and that moving forward, I have just as much to lose in this exchange as you do. Not that I really have to mind. Remember that fact.

Lastly, so as to not scare you away entirely. A somewhat overdue compliment and confession.

Your story made me...wetter...than I have ever been in my life. I have read quite a lot of erotica in my time actually, but none have ever struck a chord as hard as yours, or prompted more, well, orgasms, in such short space of time.

Dirty. Weird. Just great really. So thanks for that.

Also, there's one line in it where you have me say that I shave myself down there, not because I want to but because it's how everyone would want me to be.

That. was. It turns out.

Spot on.

But also, wrong.

In that I don't keep myself bare down there. Or, at least. I didn't. Until just after I'd read that line.

And that's when I realised that perhaps, just maybe, you, out there, somehow knew me better than I knew myself.

And so I am now. Bald. Bare. Smooth as silk. Slick.

And I love it. My bald wet pussy. Mine but really not. A constant reminder and source of frustration.

For what it's worth.

I do hope you'll sign the NDA.

Yours,

Anon (at this point not at all)

Dear Anon (not quite ready to jinx it),

Wowsers. That sure escalated quickly didn't it?

I really don't know what to say. I am at once surprised, excited and terrified.

I really thought I'd made it so I couldn't be found...

You rich and famous really do have your own rulebook, don't you?

My first instinct is of course to run. To break off all contact and hope and pray that you'll let me be. To take refuge in being all talk and no action. But I would regret that, and at any rate I'm not sure I have any real choice in the matter now do I?

See attached, panel (I am clean btw!), and signed. NDA.

It's terrifying by the way. What a legal WMD.