Last week I brainstormed the beginning of a new sex scene for my new, as of yet untitled, book. Last night my story caught up to the scene. It will fall in Chapter 2, for anyone keeping count. In this post I roughed out the beginning of the sex scene. Gave a little peek into my thought process, and probably shocked a couple of people with my wandering mind.
Last night I took what I had written, directly off the post, and pasted it into my story. Then I went over it again, so it fit seamlessly into what I’ve written so far. Mike has already showed up in the story and taken on some characteristics and history. I thought you might like watching this part evolve. Because this blog isn’t an M or Mature rated blog, I won’t post the scene in its entirety but I will periodically post the draft as I complete or improve it.
So here is the original draft, in blue.
Charley watched Mike hobble his horse. She’d staked out her usual spot in the river. Scalding water bubbled a few feet away from her its steaming water warming the rocks in the cold river. She leaned her cheek on her knees, her long hair tickling her calves in the current. He straightened, a little stiffly, and glanced over, pulling off his grey North Face beanie. He was 6’5″, heavy shoulders sprinkled liberally with freckles. Long muscled arms, long, long legs, he managed a crew for Nick, spent his days keeping the town running. A jack of all trades, he could fix anything. He kept his crew hopping keeping water pipes, electrical wiring, refrigeration and sewer up and running. At home, he was quiet, loved his vegetable garden and brought water grilling to an unbelievable level. People brought their beef from miles away to have him prepare it. Charley had tasked Nick with finding a Husky puppy for Mike, so convinced it would be love at first sight.“You’re taking your sweet time.”
He tucked his beanie in his back pocket. “Is there something you need, Mistress?”
Charley’s toes curled in the pebbles. “How do you do that, with that ridiculous title?”
Mike grins, he’d shaved today. No more scraggly goatee. A smile teased Charley’s lips, she wondered what else he’d shaved as he grabbed the hem of his t-shirt.
The interesting thing, to me, is how I start my characters with something simple like what you just read, and by the time I go through it a second time, who they are begins to come into sharper focus. They take on their own sexual identity, if you will. Mike is completely different from the other four men in my story. He certainly has his place in Charley’s world. This is the second draft, in burgundy. Where we see Charley understands Mike in a way some of us may not be comfortable with. Just a little warning.
I watch Mike hobble Jasper. He’s the only one who can. Even Jasper bows to man-in-charge Mike. I’ve staked out my usual spot in Holiday River. Precisely three feet away from where the steady bubble of hot water joins cold river water. By the time it swirls softly around me, it’s just a hair warmer than bath water with the occasional rivulet of shockingly cold water swirls around just below my shoulders.
I lean my cheek on my knees, letting the current wrap my hair under my knees, tickling my calves. Mike straightens, a little stiffly, pulling off his gray NorthFace beanie and running a rough hand through his sweaty hair. Rain earlier has cooled it down, but we’re barely below eighty even now. Mike reaches the river bank, and pulls off his sweaty t-shirt. He has wide heavy shoulders sprinkled liberally with freckles. Long muscled arms, long long legs. The man can fix anything, a real jack of all trades. He runs a crew in town for Nick. Spends his days keeping the town and our little farm running. At work he runs the show, teaching and managing repairs of every kind. At home he is quiet, likes spending time barefoot in his vegetable garden. His water grilling and smoking technique’s are known even down into Texas. People from miles around bring their beef for him to preserve in the fall. His energy, never-ending. I’ve asked Nick to keep his eyes open for a Husky dog. I doubt he’ll ever find one but it’s the only animal that might have a chance keeping up with him. I’d feel better if a dog ran off with him every night on his seven-mile circuit around the island. Dogs are hard to find now, especially big smart ones. I realize Mike hasn’t moved since taking his shirt off. “You’re taking your sweet time.”
He tucks his beanie in the back pocket of his jeans. “Is there something you need, Mistress?”
My toes curl in the smooth pebbles that cover the bottom of our little man-made pool. I rub my lips lightly across the goose-flesh on my arm. “How do you do that, with that ridiculous title?”
Mike grins, and I realize he’s shaved today. No more scraggly goatee, that smooth bare expanse of chest. A smile pulls at the corner of my lips. I wonder what else he’s shaved?
Pushing off the bottom, I float closer to where he is. “Show me more.”
His throat spasms a bit, maybe he just swallowed. I’m tempted to let him look around, make sure the coast is clear. He’ll do it, even though he knows it earns him an immediate punishment. He should trust his Mistress. “We’re alone here.” I do smile after I say it. He gets a lesser beating for making me say it and he knows that too.
Sitting down on the nearest boulder, he unlaces his work boots, setting them aside. Stuffing his socks inside them. Standing, he frees the button of his jeans, a simple tug dropping the zipper. I can read American Eagle on his waistband. He slides his pants down, folding them over his shoes.
“You must think I’ve come unprepared. You should know, I’m not.” I say.
“I just wanted you to enjoy the show, Mistress.”
He shucks off his underwear, stepping down into the water.
“Oh, now you’re in a hurry? Stay right there,” I say. My voice is soft, no hint of command, in my opinion. He stands stock still, the water just above his knees. I love the obedience, I don’t understand why. “It’s been too long since I’ve done a proper inspection.”
His eyes close, he breathes out, long and slow. Taking a step to widen his stance, he lifts his arms, elbows wide, fingers lacing behind his neck.
This is the moment, in writing, where I get excited! This is when my curiosity takes the driver’s seat and writing isn’t just a chore, it’s an adventure. Writing about these people, finding out how they fit together, how they clash, what makes this work. This is why I love to write. And it doesn’t matter if it’s a squeaky clean read with barely a kiss or two, like Kawaipuna Cottage, a steamier love story like Solitude, or downright erotic adventure like My Perfect Mistress. I love that moment my characters click with me and I realize, there is so much more about them I want to know.