I may write the naughty bits, I do write them, but never ever do I read Those Parts aloud. Until last night, that is.
Last night I slipped on my stilettos and stepped out of my comfort zone to read at “In the Flesh,” New York City’s premiere monthly erotica reading series hosted by Rachel Kramer Bussel (Orgasmic, Fast Girls, Please, Sir).
Fittingly, the group meets at Happy Ending Lounge (302 Broome Street) in Manhattan’s Lower East Side. The bar, housed in a former massage parlor complete with tile sauna rooms, now party coves, is certain to fascinate both architectural history buffs and the purely prurient of heart. Or both.
My fellow readers were Abigail Ekue (The Darker Side of Lust), Hilary Thayer Hamann (Anthropology of an American Girl), Yona Zeldis McDonough (Breaking the Bank), Tony O’Neill (Sick City), Michelle Janine Robinson (Color Me Grey), and filmmaker Therese Schecter (How To Lose Your Virginity).
Since the theme was “Sex on the Beach,” I read a steamy (for me) lagoon lovemaking scene from Every Breath You Take, set in contemporary Belize.
But first I had a glass of wine. Okay, two.
Along with the sexy snippets, there were miniature Baked by Melissa cupcakes, candy and chips, all free.
After five years, In the Flesh is closing its boudoir doors after December 16th, so if you like erotica and you’re in New York City, definitely check out it out. Meet-ups are on the third Thursday of the month. Admission is free. Cash bar.
You looked tres glamorous Ms. Hope, and I can attest from the woman who was standing behind me, that your reading was much appreciated!
Awww, thanks Elizabeth!
I remember reacting to the description of the line of hair running down the center of the male characters stomach –I’m glad you read the naughty bits that night!
Thanks, Abigail! ((blushing))
Oh, I would have LOVED to have been there!
Little, loosely related story: When I was taking care of my grandmother in her final years I read all of my sister’s books out loud to her. At the time, Julia only had about 4 or so books out and a couple more in mss format, so I eventually had to repeat some. She didn’t care. She was so proud of her granddaughter.
Of course I deftly skipped the naughty bits… or so I thought.
My grandmother finally said to me as I was re-reading Dancing at Midnight: “I know you are skipping the good parts.” She was smirking.
“Grandma…” I protested. She gave me a look.
So I read the naughty bits — almost all of them, and blushed the whole way through. This was my grandmother, after all!
Of course, I wasn’t also in stilettoes. Kudos for you and your moxie!
Delightful story, Emily. Thanks so much for sharing. Your grandmother sounds like she was delightful. The “older” generation can be a lot cooler than we think. To whit, Betty White!