And now, without further ado,
$25 Amazon Gift Card (US Only)
Let’s talk erotica.
My first toe-dip into the genre was Anaïs Nin’s book of short erotic stories, DELTA OF VENUS. (Many years ago now, but I won't say how many. *wink*)
There’s an interesting story behind this volume of erotic (and ofttimes taboo, even by today’s standards) stories: She was commissioned to write them by a wealthy patron, only known as “Collector” for $1 a page. Now, I don’t know the exact years in the ‘40s she wrote these for him, but just going by 1945 standards, that would be about $13 dollars a page. Interesting, huh?
This “Collector” also commissioned other well-known (but financially struggling) writers of the time, such as Henry Miller (of TROPIC OF CANCER fame--it was originally written and banned in the U.S. in the 30s, but upon publication in 1961, it led to obscenities trials in the U.S. Supreme court which held in its favor, and changed the publication landscape of popular and literary fiction here forever), and Gore Vidal (intriguingly, mostly known for his political, biographical novels, such as BURR). As an aside, I would LOVE to see the nasty prose Mr. Vidal put on the page for this guy. Because the “Collector” insisted that the writing be bereft of poetry, lyricism, etc., and to keep the writing graphic, the scenarios sexually explicit. If you’ve read DELTA OF VENUS, you’ll notice right away that, although there are graphically depicted sexual scenarios, the writing itself is still quite literary. Anaïs, it seems, defied "Collector's" dictate; she followed the spirit, not the letter of the “law”.
Because Nin was a product of her time, she also added images and ideas to her writing that reflected the burgeoning women's movement and her belief in female sexual equality, in the right for women to achieve pleasure from sexual acts, and to not be ashamed or denigrated for it.
In my research, I found a couple of erotic novels by Gore Vidal, and they look fun. (I’d still like to actually see the short stories he wrote for “Collector”, but I can’t find where they have ever been released for publication.)
All right, to add visual, I’ve included the book covers of DELTA OF VENUS, one of Gore Vidal’s early erotic books, CRY SHAME! (written/published in the 50s under the pen name, Katherine Everard), and Henry Miller's politically paradigm-shifting book, TROPIC OF CANCER. Click the book covers to go to the Amazon sales page for each.
The title of the book is DIAMONDS AND TOADS: A Modern Fairy Tale, and it is a modern take on the classic fairytale by the same name. The original (as well as mine) is very similar to a Cinderella story, because you have the wicked stepmother, and the spoiled rotten stepsister, as well as the fairy who blesses the downtrodden, browbeaten, but beautiful sister, with diamonds and roses tripping from her lips each time she speaks, but curses the spoiled sister with toads and serpents scurrying from hers each time she speaks.
~It's well-written, pacy, sexy fun, and I'd definitely look out for more by this author.~
L. Felthouse (Derbyshire, UK)
~This is a really Great Story! Only for adults, but fun and a real treasure. I love the characters! What a Hot and Sizzling Fairy Tale! I thought my Kindle would start smoking, it was so steamy!~
D. Ward (IL, USA)
He flipped open one side of her trench coat and got an eyeful of the getup underneath. His heart did a triple beat, sending a rush of blood to his groin. Heat flamed his cheeks. Lust turned to alarm before he managed to channel it into something he could deal with: anger.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He did a quick scan of the front of the house. “What is this place, anyway? Who lives here? Are you fucking somebody?”
“No! There isn’t anyone else. I swear. Let me go, and I’ll explain everything.” Her tightly wound French twist had come undone, sending sweeps of dark sable hair over her flushed cheek and finely defined collarbone. When her rose-petal tongue darted out to moisten her bottom lip as she tried again to loosen his grip, his heartbeat kicked up again. He was so zoned-in on that cherry-slice mouth of hers, in fact, that he didn’t even realize he’d dropped his hand until it bounced off his hard-on. He sucked air into his lungs in a bid to gain control over his potent physical responses to her.
“It’s truly not as bad as it looks to you.” Flustered, she bent down and picked up the riding crop from the sidewalk where it had fallen.
Which reminded him of what she wore—what she might have been up to if he hadn’t caught her. It made the momentary lust rebound back to anger. He shifted his gaze to scan the area. No one else around. Yet. Time to move it.
He shoved his hands onto his hips and jabbed his head in the direction of his Beemer. “Get in. We can talk there.”
She jerked a nod and walked in front of him toward his car. As she moved, for the first time, it registered just how easily she glided across the pavement in the heels. Yet another wave of feral anger swept across his solar plexus, clenching the muscles of his abdomen into taut, fierce, painful, fireballs.
Clearly, this wasn’t her first time in six-inch spikes.
But if he had anything to say about it—and he did—it’d damned sure be her last. At least until the deal with the creditors went through.
He yanked the car door open and pressed her inside, then jogged around the front of the car and got in himself. In seconds, he was facing her full on. “Okay, spill.”