Writers are always warned to be careful when blending real life people into their fiction. I know I’m not the only person who has had to either ignore the hints or downright refuse the requests to have a family member or friend morph from reality into my fictional world. What I wish some wizened writer had clued me into was the fact I should also be careful incorporating my personal, inanimate objects, as well.
In my latest release, KINK IT UP, my hero and heroine take a little foray into the world of BDSM in the hope it will help spice up their dwindling intimacy. We’re talking real world issues that can easily affect a relationship. Extra work loads and conflicting time schedules. One person needing the ‘early to bed, early to rise’ scenario and the other dealing with a work-from-home career with late nights at the computer.
I love getting the premise down and working on those things that bring authenticity and depth to a story. So what better place for KINK IT UP to begin than having my heroine bound to an ottoman? I like ottomans. I have a kickass one in my own living room. It’s not vintage, like the one in my story, but it is leather. A big, modern monstrosity that serves many purposes. It’s where I do the bulk of my writing, with my laptop sitting on it and me in my favorite comfy chair, leaning forward over the keyboard. It’s where “True Blood Tuesdays” and “Lost Mondays” took place. It’s the current setting for “Sons of Anarchy Thursdays”. Many a Girls-Night-In has taken place with cocktails and appetizers being served on that beauty.
It was during one of these recent GNI’s that reality and fiction and my ottoman collided. First, not all my girlfriends rush out to buy my books. Some are super supportive, others are closet-erotica readers and some just find my genre of preference uncomfortable to think about. Listen, I don’t judge. It’s not my thing. I feel quite blessed to have a great blend of female friends, one of whom will look you dead in the eye and say whatever’s on her mind.
“Please tell me you haven’t been tied to this ottoman wearing nothing but a thong?”
Four watermelon martinis teetered on the tray I was carrying from my kitchen to the living room. I don’t think the others noticed. It’s hard to focus when your eyes are either wide with horror or narrowed with teasing amusement.
“You leave my ottoman alone,” I replied, not missing how my one friend whipped her cell phone off the aforementioned piece of furniture and rubbed it against the cushion of the couch.
“How could you have written that scene and not had the experience?” Teasy Teaserman asked.
Thus began a lengthy conversation on the perils of incorporating common, inanimate objects into works of erotic fiction. I was grilled on everything from the granite top of my kitchen island to the front seat of my partner’s truck…no one seemed to care that I hadn’t even met him during the creation of my Henderson brothers, those hammer-wielding hotties everyone loves to read. The top of the dryer was discussed, as was the hood of my Taurus. I put a halt to it when my elderly neighbor’s hanging papasan chair was thrown in as a possibility. Seriously. Safety first, people!
I think I dodged answering the initial question pretty well…or maybe it was the second round of cocktails and the delightful scent of Tapenade Goat-Cheese Canapés fresh out of the oven that diverted their attention. Either way, I will most definitely think twice before implementing something I own, something recognizable that might be able to support two consenting adults banging themselves into oblivion, into a future work of fiction.
Of course, the whole conversation spurred my creative side. Made me wonder about their interest in things and places. Hmmm. If only I had blinds in my breakfast nook. But I don’t. So rest easy, lion-footed mahogany pedestal table. Rest easy…for now!
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Kelsey and Smith have allowed life to get in the way of romance. Career changes for her, more work responsibilities for him and staggered work hours for both are taking their toll. When the disconnect in their marriage becomes too much, headstrong Kelsey confronts her husband with the perfect solution—kink it up.
Smith quickly learns his wife isn’t talking silk scarves and spankings. She’s thinking more like wrist cuffs and nipple clamps. No matter her fantasy, he wants it to be perfect. And if that means an in-home tutorial with an old friend—and local Dom—he’s up for the challenge.
Never one to drag her feet, Kelsey makes her own plans to spice things up, only to find them derailed in the hottest way, yawning awake one minute and bound to her vintage ottoman the next. But when the smoldering heat clears from their light foray into bondage, will Smith and Kelsey regain their intimacy or will the kink factor form a rift they aren’t likely to overcome?
Inside Scoop: Thank God for old friends…especially ones well versed in BDSM!