Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Foreplay with pencil

This was my entry in last week's contest over at Trollop with a Laptop - the topic was "writing." It's not quite a story, not quite a poem, not really sure what it is. I did enjoy writing it though. I started it in my little notebook I carry with me everywhere with the following idea - start slow with pencil and then ...  

sort of equating writing with sex. Not sure how well it worked. But it did okay - 3 votes. I seem to be consistent with 3 votes (sometimes I wonder if they're the same 3 people all the time - haha). My husband gave me a bad time for using "exegesis" -  oh well, I've been wanting to use that word for a long time.  ;-)

At least I didn't "peg the umbrella" in this one (see previous post).

Losing Her Composure

"I need your words," he'd said, "write to me."
And she did.

She pulled a small notebook from her back pocket, warm after being
nestled close to her ass, turned to a blank page. Began. 

First she used pencil, tip freshly sharpened and ready. Firm, pink
nubbin held tightly by a metal collar. 
Graphite, slick as black ice, curved sensuously
S - across the fibers
extended itself - E
X - reaching to touch in all directions.
Tentative, then bolder, pressing harder
to elicit a response,
make him
to read more.

Something snapped.

She grabbed a ballpoint pen from the jar on her desk. Scribbled
frantic circles at the edge and pushed on. Blue permeated page after
page. Her hands moved fast, formed blotted words, blurted words 
that made her blush. Too soon her pen was out of ink.

Moving to her computer, her fingers frothed over the keyboard. She
used each symbol in this, her exegesis of desire. Oblivious to the red
building before her eyes, all she was aware of was her breath coming
fast, her heart pumping faster, her wetness, her need to keep words
speeding across the screen toward the precipice where she knew she
wouldn't be able to stop she wouldn't be able to see she wouldn't be
able to know anything but this...

this teetering, this excruciating, unbearable moment just before she


Jeremy Edwards said...

I love this—especially the way it builds, and the way it does so within the neatly demarcated stages of the story. And then the ending is delightfully dramatic.

And what's not to love about an ass-warmed notebook?

Emerald said...

I loved this story, Erobintica. As I said on AT's blog, I really loved every story in the contest. I really liked how your story went from pencil to pen to keyboard. :) Very clever!

I also have been known to have a notebook handy almost everywhere I go...there's a little one in my car, one in my purse, one on my nightstand, and of course who knows how many on my desk.

Rarely have I had one in my pocket getting warmed by my ass, though, now that I think about it. A lovely descriptor! :)


Erobintica said...

Thanks! I'm already pondering a post with the subject "ass-warmed notebook" - ah, it's the little details...

Jeremy, thanks for your kind words (again). Yeah, what's not to love - it's especially nice on very cold walks.

Emerald, I too love how the stories at AT's blog are so diverse - it's what I always love about group writing assignments - the different directions different minds go in.

Both, I'm looking forward to the upcoming moveable feast.