How real do you want your fiction? No really, someone asked me that. When I stopped laughing, okay I still haven't stopped laughing, I told them I don't want reality in my fiction. Why you ask? Well let's take this one step at a time.
Let's see. First off, I live reality every day. It's not all it's cracked up to be. Reality is weather and people and work and stress. On any given day, I wake up, I start the coffee, and I take a shower and reality proceeds around me with unrelenting realness.
Until and unless I escape reality by hiding in a book. You know, books...where sex is fun and no one really has to brush off the afterglow to get a towel afterward? Okay, that was bad. It's a privilege to get the towel or washrag; it's a sign of caring, tenderness and affection. Besides, failing to think of the towel ahead of time means you weren't really planning, now does it? Kind of blows your Boy Scout image. Anyway, the fetching of the wash rag has made its way into romance novels. Yippee. Let's stop there, huh? That's as real as I want it to be.
How about this? In books, sex in the shower is not only possible but deeply thrilling and fulfilling. Because in the book, no one slips on the soap that you knocked out of the soap dish and bangs his head on the tile surround. No one flails around trying to save himself from falling, and knocks sixteen different bath, body and hair care products off the shelf. No one has to tap dance on slick porcelain to avoid getting his toes smashed by the falling bottles. No one grabs the shower curtain to stop himself from falling, thereby ripping the curtain off the hooks and spraying the entire bathroom with water. (Reality check #1 - Yeah- someone is gonna have to clean that up, and it's gonna totally ruin the mood- if there's any mood left after the near fall, and providing, of course, that no one has a concussion). Last but not least- where the heck do these book characters get the magical never ending supply of hot water? Seriously? I wish that were reality. I can barely get my hair washed and conditioned let alone blow someone before the hot water runs out. (Reality Check #2 - I'll tell you what, when the water turns from hot to ice, no one is getting anything in the shower).
So, yeah - Shower sex. One perfectly good reason why reality in erotic fiction is over rated.
Besides, as Albert Einstein said, Reality is merely an illusion, albeit a very persistent one.
And here's an escape into a world I've created:
Truth or Dare #4 – Taking the Dare
Morgan Hawke is happy with the status of his relationship with Dan Blake. After three years though, Dan's ready to move their relationship to the next level.
Having seen his brothers find love and settle into family life, Dan Blake has realized he's ready for change. The only problem with that is that his lover prefers to maintain the status quo. Dan's up for the challenge of changing Morgan's mind. He's got plans, and he's used to working behind the scenes to get his way.
Morgan can't understand the changes he sees in Dan. They've come a long way from the office of the bar where they met, but he's not sure he's ready to move their relationship from the shadows to the front pages. Publicity is okay for Dan, he's got the weight of the Blakes behind him, but Morgan isn't sure he's ready to let go of the past he's been clinging to.
Can Dan manipulate a happy ending for this script?
Here's an Excerpt
"Hey, baby." Dan's call from several feet away sent a dash of cold water in Morgan's face. He shivered.
"Hey," his weak, hollow voice surprised Morgan. Earlier, in their room, hearing Dan call him "baby" had excited him. Now, his stomach churned a bit and the bitter, strong coffee Dan preferred sat like lead. At a loss, Morgan nervously shredded the buttery croissant on the table in front of him. He'd often wondered if Dan intentionally confused him, flipping from hot to cold, sweet to acid. But even for Dan this weekend's behavior was different.
At first he'd attributed Dan's strange attitude to his long absence, worried that Dan was through with him, maybe searching for a way to let him down easily. The weekend had put those doubts to rest, but now Dan's open attitude made him nervous.
To his shock, Dan leaned over to kiss his cheek lightly in greeting before sliding into the chair opposite him. He panicked over that while Dan sipped his coffee and grimaced. Morgan shook his head, trying to make sense of the other man's lack of discretion and became aware that Dan smiled at him peculiarly.
"What?" Something itched at the back of Morgan's mind. Inconceivable as it seemed, Dan was acting, putting on a show, playing a role for Morgan. Why?
"You're white. What's wrong, baby?"
Morgan floundered for an answer. Dan knew bloody fucking well what was wrong. He was playing with Morgan, toying with him for some unknown reason, and Morgan was off balance.
Fuck. The waiter approached to refill their cups, and surely he'd heard Dan's endearment? The young man remained expressionless as he topped up their coffee, and then silently indicated Morgan's shredded breakfast. Morgan nodded. His mouth was dry, and he doubted he could swallow anything anyway. The waiter scooped up the plate and left without speaking.
"Dan, someone will hear you." He managed in feeble protest. Sometimes being Dan Blake's lover was awesome. When you were the sole focus of those intent green eyes, the object of his attention, it was fucking glorious. But then, Dan was also a selfish bastard and an unmitigated prick at times. Like that nasty comment the other day about Morgan running when Dan called. Truth be told, he probably did run when Dan called, but mostly because he wanted very much to see Dan.
"Do you care if they do?"
He glared at Dan, grateful for the shades that hid his emotions, the flare of anger. Dan didn't have to care. The Blakes had it all. Studio, money, acceptance in society, it was all theirs by virtue of being born Blakes. They didn't have to worry about ever working, courting the right kind of publicity and appeasing the fickle public. They didn't have to worry about hurting someone they cared about. Above all else, the Blakes stood together, united against public scrutiny. They stared down adverse publicity, weathered scandal, together. He didn't have that.
I’m an avid reader and former teacher of grammar and composition who believes that falling in love is the grandest adventure anyone can have. In a nutshell, that’s every story I have to tell.
Relocating from the crazy pace of life in Southern California's Orange County to the beautiful and leisurely atmosphere of the Illinois countryside has given me the time to indulge the desire to write that I set aside when I started teaching fourteen years ago. Readers can find out more about me and my writing by visiting me at my blog, Lee's Musings or finding me on Facebook. Feel free to drop me a line at email@example.com
Find Lee On line
Lee on Twitter @leebrazil