August 16, 2012
I have always tried to keep my posts “G-rated,” but with all the excitement over Fifty Shades of Grey and the landslide of books following it, I felt I had to do something drastic. Keep in mind, this character is not me. I swear.
I was feeling a little down, and quite lazy last week, so I thought a cruise through the woods would perk me up. I headed out at a nice pace, not fast, but certainly not what you’d consider a crawl. It was just enough to speed up the circulatory system. The sun was shining, not a hint of rain in the air, and as I took in my surroundings, I saw her. At first I thought the light played a trick on me. I’d never seen her around here before. I moved ahead a little faster, until…ah…there she was, hiding behind some bushes. She darted off before I got a good look, but I could have sworn she was naked, glistening in the sun like someone had painted new skin on her.
Doing it on a Log
She lured me in with her sinuous movements. Tantalizing me. Tempting me. Her long, lithe body twisting and turning. When she went deeper into the woods, I followed. I couldn’t resist. Through the dense trees, through stickers. I didn’t care. I had to have her. After what seemed like days, we came to a clearing where a tree had fallen. She slithered up onto the trunk and hissed at me. She took me by surprise with that. I had no idea how to respond…so I stared. Mesmerized. But when I saw that look in those narrow slits she called eyes, I knew it was my lucky day.
Unable to speak, I let my own eyes do the talking. I turned my head to the side, facing the log, and wrinkled my brow, as if to say, “Right here? On the trunk?”
Her tongue darted out at me. She didn’t need to say, “Right now,” because the way she wiggled her tail said it all. And my eyes had not deceived me—she had nothing but her skin on. Nothing to hide the splendor.
All my reservations were long gone. I slipped in next to her, wrapped around her. We lay there entangled in a love nest for the longest time. We cast all caution to the wind. Bodies intertwined, tongues tasting each other. Taking in each other’s scent. My God, but she was good.
You Must Be Seventeen or Older to continue
For you readers—I hope you weren’t expecting another kind of picture. This is what I described. Perhaps your mind let you form a different image.
Use the Right Words
And for you writers—when you describe a scene, make sure you’re painting the right picture with your words. Readers might assume you mean something different if you aren’t careful.
While I was writing this post, all I could think of was the line from The Princess Bride where Inigo Montoya said to Fezzini, “I don’t think that word means what you think it means.”
BTW: That picture was taken on our property, and yes, that is a picture of two copperheads mating.
Ciao, and thanks for stopping by,