NaNoWriMo

I did it. Signed up for NaNoWriMo. I have been away from my fiction muse for far too long.

Not that I don't write every day - I do. My work requires me to write and lately, I have been concentrating on non-erotic works.

But, there are a few erotic stories that keep poking at me - and they need release. My hope is that NaNoWriMo will force me to focus and get one of them working. Not sure that 50,000 words is enough for any of them, or that they will fill 50,000 words - but we'll see.

And now that I've told you all that I'm doing this, the shame of failure is another impetus.

So, I am not quite sure yet which story I will focus on - but I will try to keep you posted.

Wish me luck,

~Dani

A 99 word flasher - "Communication Skills"

They’d been exchanging glances all morning. She crossed her legs and smoothed her skirt, fingers dancing over her thighs.

Another glance.

He smiled.

At lunch, they met in the coatroom. His hands slid her skirt up. Her hands slid his zipper down. He lifted. She spread. They joined. In silence, they rocked to completion.

Straightening their clothes, they returned to their seats.

In the office on Tuesday, her boss asked, “How was it?”

“How was what?”

“The Communication Skills seminar! Learn anything new?”

With a cryptic smile she replied, “Yes. And brushed up on a few old skills, too.”

Another Cinquain

Stillness
Is that moment
Right after we love
When I have to remind myself
To breathe.

In the Cinquain mood again...

Cowboy
Denim-encased
I silently give thanks
To the person who invented
Wranglers

Lost and Found - Flash Fiction in 99 words

She is lost.

His fingers slowly trace every curve. From her toes to her knees, from belly to breasts, his fingers travel the landscape of her body. Like an explorer, he climbs every peak. With each proprietary touch, he claims her, inch by inch.

His hands slip around her throat and his thumbs frame the hollow there. He leans forward to kiss the wildly beating pulse, singing her surrender.

She trembles uncontrollably as with each touch, each kiss he takes possession. He drinks her tears and with a whispered, “Mine,” she is found.

She is home.

She is his.

The Neighbors - 99 word flasher

"I wish we'd never told them. Now they behave like we're some alien species."

"It's only dinner."

"She keeps giving me pamphlets about women's rights. And he peeks over the fence when I weed the garden."

“Let’s give them a show. I’ll meet them at the door wearing a black leather mask and you serve dinner naked from your hands and knees. Or perhaps I will suspend you from the ceiling and suck grapes from your cunt.”

“You’re a wicked man. Now I’ll have that image in my head all evening.”

“Good. Save some of these grapes for later.”

Re-working old stories

I recently had to recapture a lot of my previous works due to a computer death. I was also lucky enough to find several pieces in progress - and have been reviewing and tweaking them for possible submissions to current or future COF's.

I've learned a lot about myself and my writing over the years. It's an interesting, inspiring and sometimes humbling experience to read stories that I wrote when I first began to purposely work at this craft.

It's interesting to see that the characters I created years ago still speak to me. I can see them clearly in my mind's eye. I'm still in love with each and every one of them.

It's inspiring because by reading my old stories, I recognize that this is my purpose. This talent is my destiny. I feel complete and centered when writing. In touching these pieces, I'm inspired to create new work. I hope to never lose sight of that again.

And this process is humbling. As I read and smile and swell with pride, I also stumble over those parts that just plain suck.

What the hell was I thinking? Did I write that? "Ravenous growls?" Good Grief!

At that point, I'm humbled and reminded that with any talent must come the work. The editing, the re-writing, the promoting. Without that, talent doesn't mean squat. It's only potential.

10% inspiration + 90% perspiration.

Oh yeah...

Back to work.

More cinquains = Yielded

Yielded

Power
carefully used
subtly, in ways unseen
Dominion is wielded over
my soul.

Enclose
me in your strength
Remove my defenses
all my vulnerability
is yours.

Mercy
is what I beg
but it’s not what I need
Show me none. Make me the cream of
your crop.

Yielding
I bend to you
like clay under your touch
I am molded to your desires
Make me.

Travel
my body with
your fingers. Follow with
Your mouth. Discover my secrets
Explore.

Inside
Within my walls
you stroke and strum my soul
creating intimate music
I sing.

*******

Again, another group of cinquains composed at different times, when joined creating a new piece.


The artwork on these pieces is word clouds from http://www.wordle.net/

Grouped Cinquains = Yielding

Yielding

No way
not me, not that
Silky ties tease my skin
well, maybe just a little kink
this once.

Open
Under your eyes
Restrained, wrists to ankles
Vulnerable, like a rose bud
I bloom.

Rising
To meet your strokes
I writhe within my bonds
Anchored to the earth, you teach me
to fly.

*********

These were three separate cinquains, written at different times. However, when grouped together, they form a longer piece.

Hands

Strong, powerful hands travel soft curves and warm flesh.

Who would guess that such large hands were capable of such delicate precision?

Each feathery touch designed for maximum effect.

Calloused thumbs gently brush tightened nipples.

Purposeful fingers probe slippery folds

and stroke…

There

and

oh yes...

right

there.

*****

Originally published in 2003

In the Pink - 100 word Flasher

“Stop squirming.”

“This is so sexy, no one’s ever done this for me before.”

“Stay still, or I will restrain you.”

She clawed the sheets to keep herself from wriggling.

He dipped into the liquid and then with careful precision, stroked. Then again he plunged into the silky liquid and with excruciating slowness, using just the tip, he daubed. The pink spread with each feathery touch.

He inhaled and blew, his breath teasing her flesh.

“Oh God…” she groaned.

Satisfied, he admired her seashell-pink painted toenails.

He grinned.

“Now let’s see about making the rest of you pink to match.”

*******

This was originally written in 2003. It's been tweaked and IMO, improved.

Once

A line in the flesh barely visible,
the faint scar the only evidence
that once this heart
was tethered to another.

Strong hands once held a fragile soul
contained within a wild fire
masterfully manipulating the flame
like an artist, kindling the passions
that set the spirit ablaze.

Once, an uncompromising will
held an unruly heart joyously captive
in the tender bondage
of love.

****

Another old favorite. I find that I am particularly poetically prolific when filled with angst... Happiness steers me more toward cinquains.

C'est la vie.

Cruelty

Cruelty comes in so many forms
a slap
a harsh word
a demeaning name.

It can come in the form of manipulation
self-pity meant to inspire guilt
devious and intricate webs of deceit
lies and untruths.

Or sometimes
it comes in a more quiet way
without words
or sound.

Sometimes
it is a silent turning away
leaving behind the remnants of a loving heart

laid open like a wound.

Badges

A finger slowly traces

the tiny badge of blue.

Once a symbol of love,
a badge of honor,

a sign of the fragile filament

that connected one soul to another.

One move

and the badge is revealed,

seen clearly for what it is

a source of pain

just... a bruise.

*****

This was one of the very first poems I ever posted publicly. The response is what inspired me to continue writing. I've been told I expose too much of myself when writing poetry, but I think that's the purpose of writing. If you don't expose something, why bother?

2010

A new year - and a determination to post here more frequently. Below is one of my favorite flashers. I've also added a link to the reviews for "Enhanced" that I wrote with Mackenzie Cross.

Although the book is no longer in print, we're most proud of the reviews. And there's always the possibility of re-publishing with a sequel so ... who knows?

Happy New Year,

~DB

Masterpiece - A 100 word flasher

With a satisfied smile, she stretches languidly as her toes point and her arms stretch overhead, wrists crossing instinctively as if bound.

"Don't move."

From the foot of the bed, he slowly pulls the sheets, exposing her body.

He silently appraises the marks on the canvas of her flesh. From the faint bruises on her wrists to the light purple love bites on the creamy softness of her breasts, to the blue thumbprints left by his powerful hands on the rounded swell of her hips.

In the morning light…

He, the artist, drinks in the colors of her... his masterpiece.

© Copyright 2003, Dani Benjamin. All rights reserved.

More Cinquains

Liar
Call me pretty
Tell me I’m beautiful
In the darkness as we fuck, I
Believe.

**********

Whispers
Stranger's hot breath
A naughty suggestion
Of an impromptu diversion
Shiver.

**********

Arouse
Slowly nurture
The fire that burns within
Building, stoking the embers of
Desire.

***********************************

I am currently working on my own collection of alphabetical erotic cinquains. This is an addictive form of poetry - that rhythm draws me in. However, there are some letters that do not lend themselves easily to erotica... like X and H...