A Slight Scar [NOOK Book]

Ever since critics first crowned Moby Dick as The Great American Novel writers have dreamed of putting together their own version of epic greatness: I had the same ambition and my quest failed as badly as Ahab’s quest for the great white whale.

The Sex Monster gobbled it up.

Before I began any actual writing I prepared for my quest by devouring every book I could find on how to write novels. These books were written by successful novelists. Several of the authors revealed a curious fact: they had sharpened their writing skills churning out sex novels-- so-called porn—before they ever placed a manuscript with a ‘legit’ publisher. This struck me as odd but I paid it no mind. I took it merely as trivia.

I plowed ahead with my plan to apply all my attention to my Great American Novel; any ‘practice novels’, porn or otherwise, seemed like a waste of resources and precious writer ‘mojo’.

I gathered all my notes and character outlines and got down to business. I put fresh lines on paper but I soon lost the thread and the story slipped away. So I took it apart and began sorting it out and tightening it up.

But fresh lines don’t stay fresh for long and on my third or fourth re-write I had 100 stale pages that sagged under the weight of empty prose before the whole thing gave way and came apart at the seams.

I needed to practice writing stories that had ‘a beginning’, ‘a middle’, and ‘an end’, to get a feel for how a story should develop. The way I went at it I was going nowhere not-so-fast.

That’s when my mind drifted to thoughts of smut: I decided to write my own porn novel.

When I first read about the authors ‘honing their chops’ writing porn I just thought it was odd. But it actually made sense. Sex had built-in conflict-- the basis for every good story-- and, where sex is concerned, who doesn't let their emotions overrule common sense? That is the basis for all irony (I loved irony) so I gave it a try.

Acme And Ecstasy is the result of my first novel experiment. It was set in a telemarketing office and like most first novels it was based on true events. They weren’t exactly high-powered, glamorous, events but they provided me with enough material for a solid storyline. So I wrote what I knew. According to the experts that is practically Novel Writing 101.

The great thing about that was I no longer felt any pressure to write perfect prose. Who, besides me, would ever want to read this? It was strictly practice and so the words flowed.

My Temp job was not anything I would have considered novel-worthy ordinarily, but as a sex story it had potential.

What did I have to lose except my novel-writing virginity? I went for it.

I was a customer service temp for an inbound telemarketing company. Afternoons were slow. Hours passed with no calls coming in.

Reps were free to use the down-time as we pleased. Most reps sat and gossiped. I read books.

To my way of thinking I didn’t work as a phone rep. I got paid to read books. I learned things. I had my own on-the-job scholarship. That’s actually where I read most of my how-to-write-a-novel books.

One night my gossiping coworkers played a 'Name Game' where they took turns naming a person and the rest of them had to say if they found the nominee fuck-worthy.

I kept my nose in my book but I couldn’t help overhearing.

They started off with movie stars and celebrities and famous politicians and such. No one agreed on anything. One person’s fantasy was another person’s nightmare.

Then talk turned to our absent coworkers and whether or not they were ‘do-able’. Again, no one agreed -- until Mildred’s name came up.

Mildred was our section leader. She sat at the head of the room and, in contrast to the rest of us, always seemed busy doing some work-related chore. She was taking a rare smoking break when the crew started talking about her.

Mildred had the most perfect set of legs I have ever seen on a living person. They were dazzling. They were sexy. They were mind-boggling actually. I would look at them and try to figure out what it was that made them so perfect. I couldn’t. A thousand other women must have had legs that were almost identical to hers-- but not quite. That slight difference made all the difference in the world. Mildred’s legs blew my mind.

There were times when I’d thank God for the simple pleasure of having Mildred’s legs to look at on long boring nights.

The first time I saw Mildred I walked up to her from behind; checking out her short skirt and her legs and heels in the process. Her auburn hair swung about her shoulders as she turned to face me. I’d have guessed her age to be anywhere from 18 to 29--- until she faced me. She was every bit of 60. I nearly gasped with surprise.

Mildred’s age startled me but it did nothing to dampen my admiration—and lust—for her legs. They were still absolutely flawless; smooth and shapely; without a trace of ‘spider’ veins that woman much younger than her are often prone to. She was a genetic marvel.

I know I’m going on and on about her legs so I’ll stop—but one last thing: her whole body looked hot; at least from what I could see of it with her clothes on.

She stood 5’ 6” barefoot. Weighed 105lbs. Measured about 34-24-34. Slim and well proportioned. So imagine my astonishment when her name was offered up for sexual review and the response was immediate, unanimous, and utterly negative.

The gossip crew freaked-out at the thought of any sexual contact with Mildred. They wouldn’t touch that pussy if their life depended on it.

Their attitude pissed me off!

I slammed my book down and was all set to tear into them. I was just about to shout that they were all crazy--- out of their fucking minds--- and announce that I’d go down on that woman in a heartbeat if I had the chance—when Mildred walked in. Luckily, I saw her just before I let loose and held my tongue.

There was an awkward silence but it passed.

Mildred never let on if she’d heard anything. As far as my aborted outburst was concerned: the crew all thought I was angry because they were making so much noise while I was trying to read.

No one had any idea I was about to defend Mildred’s honor. I had never told anyone how I felt about her.

I had taken it for granted that everyone felt the same way I did about Mildred and her legs. After that I kept my feelings a secret.

My novel Acme And Ecstasy is an idealized fantasy of what might have happened if I told everybody how I felt and Mildred walked in and heard me.

She could have wrapped me around her little finger and had me going down on her in our spare time. That would give new meaning to the phrase ‘Down-Time’.

The main difference in the novel is I made all my fictional coworkers female—that actually did happen from time to time in real life when all the guys called in sick. There were only a few other than me. The place was mostly women.

One night when it was just me and ‘The Girls’ one of them made a comment jokingly suggesting I might like to go down on them one at a time in the break-room. So it was a pretty risqué bunch we had there and I used them as composite characters in my novel.

That temp assignment provided material for two novels and almost a dozen short stories dealing with all manner of sex. That’s why I say the Sex Monster devoured my Great White Whale. One sex story led to another while my Epic Novel simmered on the back burner and I never really got back to it.

An audience existed for this type of ‘Office FemDom’ before I even knew what to call it. Readers are the ones that 'TAGGED' it for me.

People actually paid money for it online right from the start but things really exploded with Amazon Kindle and Smashwords ePublishing distribution.

If I had never read those particular How-To books that mentioned porn novels I would probably never have tried it. If I hadn’t worked at that particular temp assignment I would probably not written any sort of FemDom.

That particular office was female-dominated. Women had the dominant role because they were the bosses and overwhelming outnumbered men. And because the atmosphere was so relaxed sex topics were bandied about like we were at a bar or something. Usually from a woman's point of view to the detriment of men. Reducing them to sex objects and holding them up for ridicule. That’s why my stories came out with a FemDom theme.

I suppose I could have changed it around and written it as a lone stud alpha-male making all the women his personal harem but that would have been too much of a stretch.

The way it played out I simply had to imagine what would happen if normal sexual inhibitions disappeared and then write out what the logical consequences would have been.