I am utterly delighted to welcome Nicola Jane into the Erotic Author Spotlight here at Cara Sutra this week. A talented writer offering readers a new way to discover and read sexy stories, Nicola Jane is one of erotica’s truly creative minds and has a wealth of delicious saucy tales to share. Read on to find out more about Nicola Jane, read some snippets of her books, as well as a very interesting article at the end of the post.
Don’t forget, if you want to get a featured post up about your erotic writing work, see the call for submissions page here which details everything you need to email me. Are you a sex blogger or sex toy reviewer who would like a featured post in my Sex Blogger Spotlight Series? Find out here what you need to email me, and I will reply with your featured post date.
– Cara Sutra
Nicola Jane is the author of Follow Your Fantasy, with Harper Impulse. It’s a different twist on erotica and the idea came to her in bed – alone. Unfortunately for her, her best erotica only gets written when she’s single. And a second book needs finishing.
For years, wanderlust was her main source of thrills and she spent over ten years flitting from country to country but has been relatively committed to Madrid for almost two years. Now she’s operating more on the lust side of life with writing erotica and dabbling in multiple dating and open relationships. She’s never had an English boyfriend, so most of her protagonists tend towards the Latin charms. Men she meets keep telling her she should write about them. One or two might have made it already. One or two more are always welcome.
Welcome to the erotic world of Follow Your Fantasy where YOU choose what happens next. As the story unfolds, sexy adventures await your every decision. You might end up in steamy encounters with one man or woman or more, in hotel rooms or high class casinos, on porno sets or at bachelor parties. Or you can go back and try again. Even if you choose submission, the control is all yours.
Follow Your Fantasy is a new type of Erotica which puts the power back with the reader. Inspired by the 1980s Choose Your Own series of adventure books, it works like a collection of short stories around a central thread and with recurring characters.
But the most important character is YOU. Where will your story take you?
You look at the clock on your phone, annoyed to find that it’s the third time in ten minutes. Surely the benefit of agreeing to a date with the office accountant is that he’d be the punctual type? It would be funny if it weren’t so anti climactic. Even a date you indifferently accepted has bred a sense of expectation, a willingness to see what might happen when you change the settings to ‘yes’ instead of the default ‘no’.
Being stood up was nowhere in your aspirations for the evening.
At least he picked a nice place. The swish city view bar hums with the low murmur of discreet conversations and intimate assignations. Classical music softens the sounds of glasses clinking and lends refinement to the occasional bursts of laughter from the inevitable groups of traders and bankers out to celebrate.
You were surprised when he’d suggested this hotel. You’d guessed him to be more the dingy local and a packet of nuts type. In fact, you wonder if maybe he isn’t late, it’s just that he didn’t get past the snooty doormen.
You take the last sip of your cocktail and shift irritably on the bar stool which scrapes metal against the marble floor. The seat digs into the back of your legs whichever position you adopt. This is not a place to sit for hours nursing one drink. That’s it. Five more minutes and you’ll leave.
‘A bottle of Moet for room 942,’ says a male voice from behind you. ‘Two glasses.’
You don’t need to turn round to know the voice doesn’t belong to your date. Even if the deep voice matched, he wouldn’t order champagne or have a room booked. An expensively subtle scent breaches your irritation and you to sit up straighter, leaning instinctively towards it.
Something slips down the back of your seat and rests against your lower back. You jump as a finger runs down your spine but something prevents you from looking up.
‘Room 942,’ you hear again, softer this time so only you can hear. Now you do look around but the man that fits the voice is already leaving the bar. Tall and well built, he is wearing a dark suit that is as expensive and well cut as the clothes of the rest of the bar’s clientele. A man like that would be used to touching whatever he wants.
You reach behind you and pick up the object he dropped. It’s an envelope. Maybe it fell by accident although the touch that went before it was very deliberate. You look around to see if anyone is watching you but they’re not. The bar man is occupied rattling ice into a bucket and placing it next to two champagne flutes on a tray.
The envelope is intriguingly fat and unsealed. Before you can stop yourself you lift the flap and almost drop it on the bar in shock.
It’s full of money. Your heart starts to beat faster and you take another peek inside. A stack of crisp new twenties too thick for you to count at a glance. And tucked in next to the cash is a black plastic rectangle that could be a credit card. You open the envelope further and see that it’s actually a hotel key card. Presumably for room 942.
You’re not sure whether to be offended or simply intrigued. Either the man makes a regular habit of making paid invitations to strangers in bars or he thinks you’re someone else. Do you look like the kind of someone else that goes to bars to pick up clients? In your tight red dress and black high heels, alone at a hotel bar on a Wednesday night, perhaps you do.
A waiter comes and takes the tray of champagne away. It’s gone before you can think whether you should pop the envelope on the tray and let it be returned to its owner. You could ask the barman what to do but then maybe he’d just take the money and pretend he never saw it. It might be embarrassing to admit someone mistook you for an escort.
Or you could keep it. That cash must be a couple of week’s salary at least. But the bar probably has CCTV and to see yourself on the news, not only being mistaken for a call girl but stealing money would be mortifying.
The safest way to sort out the confusion would be to take it up to his room yourself. You might even get some of the money as a reward for your honesty!
Do you ask the barman, keep the money and leave, or return the money to room 942?
*** *** *** ***
Article: A Thesaurus for Erotica
Writing Erotica puts a huge strain on vocabulary. I’ve been on a desperate search for an alternative to cock. Everywhere I looked, there were cocks. I suffered a similar overabundance of pussy, surplus nipples and, it almost goes without saying, far, far too many orgasms.
My growing Eroticasaurus is more generous for the verbs needed to describe what’s being done to bodies than for the body parts themselves. Mouths can lick, tongue, suck, nibble, nip, and bite but should probably stop short of chewing. Hands can stroke, touch, caress, fondle, rub, squeeze or knead. After that, if everything is going well, there’ll be some throbbing, pulsing, pulsating, quivering, shuddering, shivering and shaking. From there someone might slide, slip, or push inside, slam, drive or pound into or enter, penetrate or invade someone else. And hopefully, participants will come in waves, or shatter into a thousand pieces á la Fifty Shades, crash or convulse. Muscles will tighten, clench, ripple, spasm or jolt as he spurts and jerks and she climaxes or orgasms.
But I got stuck on the cock. For the initial decision of how graphic to go with the nouns, I settled on cock, over dick (a shade too crude) or penis (too medical), as the sexier option. In real life I don’t feel the need to label these things ever, either mentally or out loud, but in writing the go-arounds of member, erection or the length of him need to be used sparingly or the tone softens too much to be of use.
The same choice for her offers pussy over c*nt, although there was one scene in Follow Your Fantasy on a porn set where that one just fit. The Story of O by Pauline Réage is lent an interestingly earthy tone with belly and womb which I’ve always liked for their primalness but weren’t right for the more modern feel of Follow Your Fantasy. Vagina, too medical, crotch, too unsexy and I only used it when referring to clothed men. The simple word inside portrays much but I left down there as E.L. James’ calling card. Lady parts are as complex to write about as they are to navigate off the page so I also had to contend with clits, clitorises or nubs, slits and lips. The trickiest body part, though, is the nipple. Nipples do tend to stand out and are not easily replaced in a text. Pauline Réage decorates breasts with points, I went with peaks and tips.
I had an epiphany during the third draft of Follow Your Fantasy that sex is actually a fairly repetitive thing when reduced to the nouns and the verbs of it. What elevates Erotica is what it can achieve with rhythm. Size does matter when it comes to sentence length. A variety of long, short and, even shorter, sentence fragments turns repetition into rhythm, taking the reader from fast to urgent to climactic and then floating them back down to earth. By adding in textures and sensations other than just skin to skin friction and the full range of senses, I stopped relying on the thesaurus and went back to my imagination – a far richer source of material.
– Nicola Jane
Contains affiliate links