Porn Peddler?

I have decided what I’m going to do with all that pent up sexual frustation - no, I’m not going to unearth the vibrator from it’s hiding place under the tub, supply it with fresh batteries, and drive myself up to the top,but not over the edge; nor am I going to continue down a torturous and equally unsatisfying path with someone we know, nor, lastly, am I hopping upon any available male specimen that wanders through my field of vision.

I think instead, I’ll supply the erotic writing industry with it’s next lastest best-seller.

If the cries of delight and crisis I got over the phone not too long ago are any indication? I’m rather creative. Kind of good at the whole What Would I Do To You Thing…and, well. Let’s be totally honest: now that I’ve composed an eloquent (his word, not mine) Grown-Up We’re Friends, Let’s Respect That Of Each Other email, it’s not like I can fall back into being the one to break it with an X (or triple x) rated late night text. Plus? Joe doens’t answer if I text him, in any sense, so why waste perfectly good erotic novel ideas of a man with no imagination, or, answering abilities. I could wax poetic on why it is that he doesn’t repond - I think he’s too invested in me, if you know what I mean - but in the end run, it certainly fails to matter, at least on my radar.

Also, I got to thinking, I’ve read some of what’s out there, and it lacks a good deal of…real world availability. Sure, it’s fun the first time around, to get the flutter reading about what someone else could/would/might/want to do, in an erotic romance novel kind of way - but it’s not something that’s exciting more than once, mostly, I think, because I don’t buy the characters. Silly, I realize - it’s why porn has no plot; guys don’t care about plot, subtext, feelings - at least any that extend beyond the end of a perfectly good erection.

However. Women do. And we’re the ones, according to my research, that reach for this stuff, carefully hidden under the bed, or in the drawer, when hubby is either MIA on a business trip, or, losing the battle in the final frontier of Divorce Court.

What’s a girl to do, I ask you?

Now, if I have any luck in this endeavor at all, she’ll buy what I turn out, be turned on, and have the best nights of her life - even if the only company she has is her own.

All I need is a pen name - my mother (not to mention some other’s I know) would SHIT BRICKS if she had any clue what I was up to - although, I must admit, I may have to tell her if I find one of these little gems tucked under her bed - and I suppose, should this be profitable, printed in several different languages, spanning the globe (sort of like counting the orgasms before they arrive, though, hmmm?) I may have to admit that her daughter is a prolific erotic novelist.

Before that happens however, I should at least sit down to pen and paper, or more aptly, keyboard and moniter, and bang a few out. Ahem. Pardon the pun.