I stumbled across a back burner project in my file folder, so I'm rewiring it to use as an entry for Nude Day. It’s not exhibitionist, but has a meet-cute-ish scene of accidental-caught nudity. And the chars are naked for most of the story
It's a long term project I've been tinkering with for several years, So I know the characters, and the scenes are closer to ready-for-primetime than my next-best option. I have to retool some parts to convert dual POV to FMCs POV only, because dual POV is too much for a short story.
The piece has a Romance-y under current, but a ton of sex, so I think it could do well, and maybe attract some new readers. Technically age gap, but I don't sign post it or beat it to death with a rock. That aspect is incidental and not played for kink. MLI is a war veteran/ FMC is a 20-ish year old virgin at the start. I plan to place it in first time. Both have trauma that impacts their relationships, but that won't be obvious in this piece. It's a short story reworked from a multi-part /doorstop w.i.p.
For context: FMC wants to surprise MLI by making him dinner. They've liked each other for a while but have resisted it. He doesn't know she's there. Because his ex-wife always made him leave his dirty work clothes in the laundry room, He always strips before he comes in the house. He walks into the kitchen Buck Naked while she's cooking. Played with some humor as a meet-cute like scene. LSS he's taking a shower, and she takes the bull by the horns and joins him, and they fuck their way through the house. It's more erom in tone than straight smut, but still explicit and sexy (one can hope). Story deals with FMCs vulnerability. This snippet comes after the initial sex scene. They are eating together naked, and this scene will transition to a fuck on the kitchen counter.
The Question. I use emdashes as a poetic technique. They're a pause, similar to a semi-colon, and can replace them one for one. They are a little more flexible grammatically. Poets use them to cut away connective language, in order to intentionally fragment language and imagery for impact. It connects two thoughts without the grammatical deadweight, and can add power to prose, especially when trying to translate an abstract emotion into a more concrete image. I've used the technique for a long time, so they are firmly in a blind spot for me. They can be a tripping hazard for those who aren't used to them , and that's my concern. I still want the aesthetic fragmentation, but if the emdashes hurt readability for too many readers, I'll try to find another way. I'll hear feedback in either direction. How do the emdashes land? Are they effective or confusing?
I'll take any other feedback, obviously. I'm adding a bit more overt eroticism because the context changes require more work from the prose in less space. Also, a general question. Is two developed and fully eroticized scenes in one short story too much? (no sex scenes in this segment) I could shorten one with more exposition and fewer details for pacing. Thanks for any feedback, of any kind. A snippet follows. It's out of context but I tried to pick a cohesive segment. I italicized to separate the text. The forum software messes up the formatting when pasting from a doc. I tried to fix it for readability. I've noticed a few spots that can use more detail for clarity or transition. I write lean prose and am capable of underwriting so if you see anything that needs more, I'm open to adding detail. MLI named Patrick. FMC named Cinnamon. POV is Cinnamon's throughout. Thanks.
But after…
After lovemaking, the way she opened for him, somehow the thought of clothes seems tawdry.
She serves him like that—both of them naked.
Setting plates on the hand-crafted table, her body quakes like wind-brushed leaves. The piquant blush of her skin—must be permanent now.
She sits across from Patrick, but close enough for the incidental brush of naked skin. She shivers from the contact.
At first, the sturdy wooden chair chills against her back. Her tender skin. The dry, ambient coolness of the air conditioning, soaked into the varnished wood. Now, the object has siphoned her heat. Exposed like this, she fights the urge to shift and squirm.
Though the room is cool, her body roars like a furnace, flush with radiant heat. Balmy dust devils whirl in her belly, trickle through her, and liquefy in her pussy.
Her hands tremble with each bite—she hopes he doesn’t notice.
But Patrick watches her across the table. She feels his gaze, pressing as a physical weight.
It’s endearing—his efforts not to stare. Here she is, an offered course for his eyes to feast on. His eye contact—it’s intense. For the first time ever, Cinnamon feels truly seen.
She fights the urge to tease him—to arch her back—to place her perky, apple tits where they must be seen. Her tiny nipples tingle. Her breasts swell and tighten—craving touch.
When she breaks eye contact, she can feel his vision drift along the exposed planes of her skin. Wherever she turns, she’s aware of him. His gaze prickles the contours of her her body, like sultry summer heat. Their bodies sheen with pinprick beads of sweat.
They eat like that—naked—in silence.
No words seem fit. Nothing she could say is worthy of violating the sanctity of the moment.
It's a long term project I've been tinkering with for several years, So I know the characters, and the scenes are closer to ready-for-primetime than my next-best option. I have to retool some parts to convert dual POV to FMCs POV only, because dual POV is too much for a short story.
The piece has a Romance-y under current, but a ton of sex, so I think it could do well, and maybe attract some new readers. Technically age gap, but I don't sign post it or beat it to death with a rock. That aspect is incidental and not played for kink. MLI is a war veteran/ FMC is a 20-ish year old virgin at the start. I plan to place it in first time. Both have trauma that impacts their relationships, but that won't be obvious in this piece. It's a short story reworked from a multi-part /doorstop w.i.p.
For context: FMC wants to surprise MLI by making him dinner. They've liked each other for a while but have resisted it. He doesn't know she's there. Because his ex-wife always made him leave his dirty work clothes in the laundry room, He always strips before he comes in the house. He walks into the kitchen Buck Naked while she's cooking. Played with some humor as a meet-cute like scene. LSS he's taking a shower, and she takes the bull by the horns and joins him, and they fuck their way through the house. It's more erom in tone than straight smut, but still explicit and sexy (one can hope). Story deals with FMCs vulnerability. This snippet comes after the initial sex scene. They are eating together naked, and this scene will transition to a fuck on the kitchen counter.
The Question. I use emdashes as a poetic technique. They're a pause, similar to a semi-colon, and can replace them one for one. They are a little more flexible grammatically. Poets use them to cut away connective language, in order to intentionally fragment language and imagery for impact. It connects two thoughts without the grammatical deadweight, and can add power to prose, especially when trying to translate an abstract emotion into a more concrete image. I've used the technique for a long time, so they are firmly in a blind spot for me. They can be a tripping hazard for those who aren't used to them , and that's my concern. I still want the aesthetic fragmentation, but if the emdashes hurt readability for too many readers, I'll try to find another way. I'll hear feedback in either direction. How do the emdashes land? Are they effective or confusing?
I'll take any other feedback, obviously. I'm adding a bit more overt eroticism because the context changes require more work from the prose in less space. Also, a general question. Is two developed and fully eroticized scenes in one short story too much? (no sex scenes in this segment) I could shorten one with more exposition and fewer details for pacing. Thanks for any feedback, of any kind. A snippet follows. It's out of context but I tried to pick a cohesive segment. I italicized to separate the text. The forum software messes up the formatting when pasting from a doc. I tried to fix it for readability. I've noticed a few spots that can use more detail for clarity or transition. I write lean prose and am capable of underwriting so if you see anything that needs more, I'm open to adding detail. MLI named Patrick. FMC named Cinnamon. POV is Cinnamon's throughout. Thanks.
But after…
After lovemaking, the way she opened for him, somehow the thought of clothes seems tawdry.
She serves him like that—both of them naked.
Setting plates on the hand-crafted table, her body quakes like wind-brushed leaves. The piquant blush of her skin—must be permanent now.
She sits across from Patrick, but close enough for the incidental brush of naked skin. She shivers from the contact.
At first, the sturdy wooden chair chills against her back. Her tender skin. The dry, ambient coolness of the air conditioning, soaked into the varnished wood. Now, the object has siphoned her heat. Exposed like this, she fights the urge to shift and squirm.
Though the room is cool, her body roars like a furnace, flush with radiant heat. Balmy dust devils whirl in her belly, trickle through her, and liquefy in her pussy.
Her hands tremble with each bite—she hopes he doesn’t notice.
But Patrick watches her across the table. She feels his gaze, pressing as a physical weight.
It’s endearing—his efforts not to stare. Here she is, an offered course for his eyes to feast on. His eye contact—it’s intense. For the first time ever, Cinnamon feels truly seen.
She fights the urge to tease him—to arch her back—to place her perky, apple tits where they must be seen. Her tiny nipples tingle. Her breasts swell and tighten—craving touch.
When she breaks eye contact, she can feel his vision drift along the exposed planes of her skin. Wherever she turns, she’s aware of him. His gaze prickles the contours of her her body, like sultry summer heat. Their bodies sheen with pinprick beads of sweat.
They eat like that—naked—in silence.
No words seem fit. Nothing she could say is worthy of violating the sanctity of the moment.
.
