Slow Hand: Women Writing Erotica

Overview

Slow Hand: Women Writing Erotica is an anthology of stories in which women artfully explore their own erotic terrain. To create this newest of her popular anthologies, Michele Slung challenged women--straight and gay, old and young, journalists, poets, academics, women whose job descriptions range from "anthropologist" to "performance artist," as well as professional novelists and short story writers--to turn her on. And from across the United States, Canada, and Great Britain, a variety of daring and talented ...
See more details below
Available through our Marketplace sellers.
Other sellers (Hardcover)
  • All (159) from $1.99   
  • New (3) from $3.95   
  • Used (156) from $1.99   
Close
Sort by
Page 1 of 1
Showing All
Note: Marketplace items are not eligible for any BN.com coupons and promotions
$3.95
Seller since 2005

Feedback rating:

(274)

Condition:

New — never opened or used in original packaging.

Like New — packaging may have been opened. A "Like New" item is suitable to give as a gift.

Very Good — may have minor signs of wear on packaging but item works perfectly and has no damage.

Good — item is in good condition but packaging may have signs of shelf wear/aging or torn packaging. All specific defects should be noted in the Comments section associated with each item.

Acceptable — item is in working order but may show signs of wear such as scratches or torn packaging. All specific defects should be noted in the Comments section associated with each item.

Used — An item that has been opened and may show signs of wear. All specific defects should be noted in the Comments section associated with each item.

Refurbished — A used item that has been renewed or updated and verified to be in proper working condition. Not necessarily completed by the original manufacturer.

New
1992 Hard cover New in new dust jacket. Clean and tight-unused copy-Excellent! ! Sewn binding. Paper over boards. 228 p. Audience: General/trade; General/trade.

Ships from: Wauwatosa, WI

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Canadian
  • International
  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
  • Express, 48 States
  • Express (AK, HI)
$8.70
Seller since 2009

Feedback rating:

(152)

Condition: New
1992-07 Hardcover First Edition New in Like New jacket Brand new/ Mint condition first edition, first printing hardcover book, no marks, no wear to book or jacket. We have added ... a mylar plastic cover to make it even nicer! MendoPower Employment Services will immediately and carefully pack this book in high-quality bubble lined, envelopes. Then we send you a confirmation e-mail. We appreciate your business and welcome any questions. Read more Show Less

Ships from: Fort Bragg, CA

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Canadian
  • International
  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
  • Express, 48 States
  • Express (AK, HI)
$45.00
Seller since 2014

Feedback rating:

(164)

Condition: New
Brand new.

Ships from: acton, MA

Usually ships in 1-2 business days

  • Standard, 48 States
  • Standard (AK, HI)
Page 1 of 1
Showing All
Close
Sort by
Sending request ...

Overview

Slow Hand: Women Writing Erotica is an anthology of stories in which women artfully explore their own erotic terrain. To create this newest of her popular anthologies, Michele Slung challenged women--straight and gay, old and young, journalists, poets, academics, women whose job descriptions range from "anthropologist" to "performance artist," as well as professional novelists and short story writers--to turn her on. And from across the United States, Canada, and Great Britain, a variety of daring and talented women, hearing that she was putting together a book to reflect their most intimate sexual selves, enthusiastically responded. Michele Slung has collected the best of these pieces in Slow Hand, offering page after page of tantalizing sensual adventure for our reading--and feeling--pleasure. But whether the stories stay as close to home as a familiar partner's embrace or whether they move into the darker recesses of extraordinary desires and even more extraordinary experiences, the special quality shared by these tales is their ability to seduce us. So while the mood of this collection is indeed slow (in all the right ways), it's certain that your pulse will quicken.
Read More Show Less

Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly
This collection of 19 stories by and for women, a BOMC alternate in cloth, explores many nuances of sexuality, more than a few positions and some daunting sexual issues. (July)
Read More Show Less

Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9780060165987
  • Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
  • Publication date: 7/1/1992
  • Edition description: 1st ed
  • Pages: 256

Read an Excerpt

Chapter 1

In The Prick of Time

By Susan Dooley

We admire some stories for the dazzle of their artifice; others, however, may win our hearts with their naturalness. Susan Dooley's "In the Prick of Time" embodies, I think, everything that is splendid about being a Grown-Up Woman, yet it reminds us also that we are the sum of our experiences, that
our sensuality can grow and flourish only if we accept and nurture it.

Too fat.".
The mirror was an old one, its oak frame holding glass that was wavy and dappled with dark spots. It could distort image, she thought, just as earlier she had muttered about how her jeans had shrunk in the wash.

"Too fat," this time she sighed and accepted it.

"Just right." He had come up behind her in the bathroom where she stood, her body still wet from the shower. He put his arms around her and nuzzled his face into her neck. She watched in the mirror as he slid one hand up her body and cupped her breast. He played with her nipple, running a finger back and forth until the flesh hardened beneath his hand. Then he moved until he was between her and the mirror. She watched as the back of his head ducked forward and felt
the slight pressure as his mouth began a soft sucking at her breast.

The man in the mirror curved his hand over her hip. His fingers pressed in for a minute and then continued on until he had shoved his hand between her legs. She could feel his tongue teasing the inside of her mouth, and she felt a warmth and an urgency even as she watched, detached, the two strangers who slid awkwardly to the floor and began to press themselves together in the shifting light.

She could nolonger see the mirror. There was only the pressure of him, hip to hip, tongue to tongue, as he pushed himself inside of her.

The telephone rang.

She tried to ignore it, but both of them had gone still, waiting for it to stop. The noise had broken their connection, and though they rocked together for a minute more, she felt him ebbing away.

Mary raised herself on an elbow. In the wavy glass she saw two people who had passed their moment of passion. The woman had wet hair. The man had on his shoes.

"What are you writing?"

"An erotic memoir," she said, turning around and placing the flat of her hand on the front of his jeans. She felt him move at her touch, and she smiled up at him. "I'm going to call it In the Prick of Time."

She was sitting at the long pine table, having cleared a small space between a stack of books and a large gray cat, and was writing out the grocery list. He put one hand on her shoulder and leaned forward to read what she had written.

"Oatmeal?" he asked. "I thought this was supposed to be erotic."

"Well, it's not the most erotic thing I could think of," she conceded, wiggling her eyebrows in what she hoped was a Groucho Marx leer. "But once a long time ago I stood and watched a pot of oatmeal boil for ten minutes. It was a very sensual experience. Voluptuous. It sort of ..." She was remembering that time when she had eaten oatmeal six days a week, saving all her money to have one glorious meal on the seventh, and of how she had often gotten mesmerized by the sight of the bubbling oatmeal. "It sort of erupts at you. Oatmeal has orgasms."

"You must have been a very cheap date," he said, going to the refrigerator to see what other erotic treats were on offer.

"Do you remember oleo orgies?" he asked, having found a piece of lemon pound cake.

"Did you ever go to one?" She put her pen down and turned expectantly--the magician about to pull a rabbit out of his past.

"Once in Ohio when I was in graduate school. It wasn't oleo. It was some vegetable oil in a bottle, and we all got a little drunk and then smoked pot for courage. Then we took off our clothes. Except Nancy. We were still married then, and she insisted on keeping her underpants on. Everyone else looked innocent. Nancy in her underpants looked like a very dirty girl.

"We sat in a circle, willy nilly, except you couldn't sit next to the person you came with.

"The man giving the party went around the circle, pouring out handsful of oil. He made it a priestly act. We began rubbing the oil on each other. I was sitting next to a woman with incredible breasts and a beautiful tan. I put my head in her lap so I could look up and watch the light gleam on her skin. She leaned over to rub oil on my chest and I caught her breast in my mouth to suck it. It tasted strange--almonds, vanilla--I can't remember except that made it even more erotic.

"She didn't seem to mind, but she didn't seem aroused either. She kept rubbing me with oil in a very efficient fashion, and all around us everyone was doing the same thing. Suddenly I started to laugh. I felt like a leg of lamb.

"Everyone else began to laugh too, and the girl whose lap I was on would give these great hee-haws and my head would bounce up and down. It was silly, but at the same time it was very erotic."

"What ever happened to her?" Mary asked. Her voice had gone cool.

"To who?" asked Paul.

"The woman you were bouncing about on."

He looked at her curiously. "I have no idea. I never even knew her name."

He got up. "I'm going into town. Do you want anything? Oatmeal?" He bent over and rubbed his chin against the top of her head and was gone.

She heard the rough cough of the car's motor and watched Paul back the old station wagon out of the driveway. When she was sure he was gone, she pulled a fresh piece of paper off the pad and wrote his name.

"Paul."

She tried to think what it was exactly that made her want him. Rationally, there were only so many spots the hand could touch, so many places the tongue could lick, and that made fucking finite in its possibilities.

Why was it that somehow lovers were not?

She folded the paper with Paul's name and set it aside. Then she began again:

"Herbert."

An erotic memoir should begin at the beginning. In the prick of time, when that first tentative tickle had come from the unlikely Herbert, a leering red-haired boy of eleven who had pushed his way through the children on the school bus to sit beside her. He had squeezed himself over onto her side of the cracked leather seat as the bus made its familiar and halting way down the highway, extruding children at each stop like some demon machine that had had its fill and now was belching out the leftovers.

Herbert had never actually put his hands on her. But he had leaned on her, and he had looked at her. It was frightening. It was exciting. Not like Jimmy Mason who had chased her through the orchard and knocked her to the ground to deliver a hasty kiss, his lips slamming to a halt on her cheek. The way Herbert had shoved and bumped her had made warmth start between her legs and roll up her body until she could feel the heat turning her face red. It was uncomfortable. She hoped he wouldn't stop.

"Carole."

Carole had been her best friend in grade school. When the weather was too wet for the nuns to scatter the schoolchildren onto the playground, they would gather them together, march them into the auditorium, and show them a religious film. The ones that weren't about the Virgin Mary hovering over some foreign meadow starred pretty nuns and handsome priests--none of them had warty cheeks like Sister Octavia or the smooth hairless skin of Sister Joyce, whose eyes had been popped naked into a face that lacked both lashes and brows. Mostly the movie priests were Irish and adorable. Not like Father O'Toole, the arrogant pastor who strode each week into every classroom to bellow damnation at any child who had been seen talking to a Protestant.

She and Carole sat next to each other in the dark, while a wavy shaft of light cast pictures on the screen. The big, bare room smelled of chalk and wet socks, and above the faint hum of the projector you could hear the constant rustle of children forced to sit still. The darkness, the muffled noise, the shadows of people you no longer knew turned the barren room into a private place.

For the first half of the film, Mary would trace a delicate line up and down the soft skin on Carole's arm. When they changed to the second reel, it would be Mary's turn. She would stare entranced at the screen while Carole's fingertips returned the delicate, feathery stroking.

That wasn't really erotic, Mary admitted. Not like Herbert. But Mary decided that sensual also had a place on her list. She left Carole's name on it.

"Mr. Maxwell."

Mr. Maxwell was an older man in his twenties. When Mary was sixteen, he had hired her older sister, Helen, as a file clerk. Whenever she went to pick up Helen, Mr. Maxwell would call Mary into his office and flirt with her. One day he had leaned over and run his finger up her leg. Slow Hand. Copyright © by Michelle Slung. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.

Read More Show Less

Table of Contents

Introduction
In the Prick of Time 1
Leaper 11
Drought 27
Oh, Brother 41
Ninety-Three Million Miles Away 51
The Shame Girl 71
The Footpath of Pink Roses 81
The Wager 91
The Story of No 99
Reasons Not to Go to Fort Lauderdale 115
Blessed Immortal Self: How the Jewels Shone on Your Skin! 131
Blue Feathers 139
The American Woman in the Chinese Hat 149
Windows 157
The Mango Tree 163
Eros in Overtime 177
Anecdote 183
Treats 193
Too Tall for Grace 201
About the Authors 223
Read More Show Less

Customer Reviews

Be the first to write a review
( 0 )
Rating Distribution

5 Star

(0)

4 Star

(0)

3 Star

(0)

2 Star

(0)

1 Star

(0)

Your Rating:

Your Name: Create a Pen Name or

Barnes & Noble.com Review Rules

Our reader reviews allow you to share your comments on titles you liked, or didn't, with others. By submitting an online review, you are representing to Barnes & Noble.com that all information contained in your review is original and accurate in all respects, and that the submission of such content by you and the posting of such content by Barnes & Noble.com does not and will not violate the rights of any third party. Please follow the rules below to help ensure that your review can be posted.

Reviews by Our Customers Under the Age of 13

We highly value and respect everyone's opinion concerning the titles we offer. However, we cannot allow persons under the age of 13 to have accounts at BN.com or to post customer reviews. Please see our Terms of Use for more details.

What to exclude from your review:

Please do not write about reviews, commentary, or information posted on the product page. If you see any errors in the information on the product page, please send us an email.

Reviews should not contain any of the following:

  • - HTML tags, profanity, obscenities, vulgarities, or comments that defame anyone
  • - Time-sensitive information such as tour dates, signings, lectures, etc.
  • - Single-word reviews. Other people will read your review to discover why you liked or didn't like the title. Be descriptive.
  • - Comments focusing on the author or that may ruin the ending for others
  • - Phone numbers, addresses, URLs
  • - Pricing and availability information or alternative ordering information
  • - Advertisements or commercial solicitation

Reminder:

  • - By submitting a review, you grant to Barnes & Noble.com and its sublicensees the royalty-free, perpetual, irrevocable right and license to use the review in accordance with the Barnes & Noble.com Terms of Use.
  • - Barnes & Noble.com reserves the right not to post any review -- particularly those that do not follow the terms and conditions of these Rules. Barnes & Noble.com also reserves the right to remove any review at any time without notice.
  • - See Terms of Use for other conditions and disclaimers.
Search for Products You'd Like to Recommend

Recommend other products that relate to your review. Just search for them below and share!

Create a Pen Name

Your Pen Name is your unique identity on BN.com. It will appear on the reviews you write and other website activities. Your Pen Name cannot be edited, changed or deleted once submitted.

 
Your Pen Name can be any combination of alphanumeric characters (plus - and _), and must be at least two characters long.

Continue Anonymously

    If you find inappropriate content, please report it to Barnes & Noble
    Why is this product inappropriate?
    Comments (optional)