Savannah Lee

"Good!" I said. "We can do it. Let me go to the bathroom and I'll come back naked."

"No, see...I don't want to be awake..."

"Oh. Okay." I slid into his arms and snuggled up.

"But now I'm thinking about you naked, dammit."

#

What is erotica?

Since I seem to write the stuff, I demand the right to be confused by it. What is it? As is true of most genres which appear to be rigidly defined, things get (hmm) slippery when you take a closer look.

Who, for example, is the sex in an erotica actually for? I've read stories where it's clearly for the reader, it's aiming to get the reader off. I've read a lot of stories which are no less oh-my-stars-and-garters, but what's happening is strictly for the characters. Very different feel.

Then there's the erotica's relationship to Story. So many eroticas are giddily free of The Rules. We all know why we're here. We all know why we care. On to the fun stuff!

And the stuff, even if it's rough, is indeed supposed to be fun. Erotica is one of the few branches on the great Tree of Fiction where conflict and suffering are not on the menu. I should say where unplanned and unwanted conflict and suffering are not on the menu. Kinky stories are full of implacable doms and their trembling subs, but it's obvious that this is all negotiated and consensual. Genuine danger or cruelty is...not exactly unwelcome, but needs to be negotiated with care, and generally people don't bother.

From one perspective, this is "bad," because there can be low stakes to a story like that (except whether it will get you off). But you have to understand what the form is after. The reader wants great sex to happen. He wants what he wants for himself. Those kinds of stories need to go gently.

I bet other characters are wildly jealous of erotica characters. I bet they pound on the windows, yelling and picketing. "THRILLER CHARACTERS UNITED: WE DEMAND EROTICA RIGHTS!"

Let's picture the rally. A standard thriller fodder--curly red hair, eyes that'll break your heart--steps up to the mike. Voice trembling: "My nonconsensual ordeal at the hands of the villain covered eight different scenes, each one worse for me than the last. This was done for no other reason than to make some jackass in an airport 'care.' Meanwhile, my sister got in an erotica, and the author sent her to Folsom to have multiple orgasms with a safe, sane and consensual top."

No doubt one of them will discover that it's a conspiracy.

Let's not even get started on what horror characters would be saying about this. In fact I don't think they're saying anything at all; I think what's left of them is scattered over there on the lawn. The eyes are blinking expressionlessly at the picketing thriller characters, and the mouths are saying "I remember springtime."

(Probably some Stephen King characters are together enough to picket if they want to, but they don't; they're walking the edges in tight silence, catching eyes where they can and signaling 'Stop.' Be careful. Who, these shrewd-from-experience creatures ask, are we petitioning, anyhow? The authors themselves? Or...or the thing that's in control of us all? "Here's what I'm afraid of: I'm afraid it will answer. I'm afraid it will answer our prayers...")

Erotica is the tender face of the god.

I try to keep faith with her always, no matter what I'm writing; you do have to go there, but I try to do it with my people rather than to them. If that makes any sense. You have to be truthful, but you can still go gentle.

Gentle as naked in the night.

When I came back to bed, he was awake.