Early work of a "Hot" writer...

JamesSD

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"A man in a blue trench coat stopped walking. Rain poured off the rim of his hat. He glanced at the sign on the door of the building - Jones and Smith: Private Eyes. He turned the handle and entered. A blond woman of about 23 years sat behind a desk. The room was bare, except for a plant in the corner and four chairs.

"May I help you?" the receptionist cooed in a sultry voice.

"Yeah, I'm here to hire a detective!" the man snorted.

"You've come to the right place. Miss Jones and Miss Smith are two of L.A.'s top detectives!"

"Whoa! Miss Jones and Miss Smith? I didn't plan on dealin' with no dames. I made a policy long ago, broads ain't nothin' but trouble. I'm going to go find a real private dick!""

-------

So began my early "epic" work "Jade Statue", a convoluted tale fit for late night Cinemax I wrote sometime in my late teens, with a genuine pen and paper. You may be surprised to hear that Miss Jones and Smith are both slender yet busty, in their middle 20s, and pretty much sexually insatiable. Oddly, despite the 1920's film noir speech of the man in the above paragraph, he's actually a mid-90s FBI agent, who apparently knew Jones and Smith were the best PIs in LA yet didn't know they were women. That and his final line in the snippet sounds incredibly homosexual to my current eyes! He of course hires the PIs, who spend far more time frolicking in tiny bikinis on the beach and fucking everyone they encounter than actually working on the case.

What's impressive is just how many sex scenes I wrote, and how disappointingly short many of them are. Two short paragraphs from fully clothed to post-orgasmic!

Still, while I can certainly make fun of past me, it's an interesting window into the way I thought about sex and kinkiness back then.
 
Raymond Carver wrote some great sex scenes with hardly any sex in them at all.

In ARE THESE THE ACTUAL MILES? a guy sends his wife out to sell his convertible. She dolls up, puts on a short skirt, and leaves the house about noon. She'll call him as soon as she sells the car so he can pick her up.

She calls him at 10pm. She sold the car but dinner with the sales manager is part of the deal. She'll be home in a few minutes, the sales manager is driving her home.

She staggers in the door at dawn. Bloated and drunk, carrying her shoes in her hand. He calls her a whore, she calls him a bankrupt loser, and he hits her.

On the bed unconscious, he pulls off her panties, examines them, and tosses them on the floor. Then he hikes up her dress and examines her body. Its full of stretch marks and veins and rolls of fat. She has a lot of miles on her.
 
You can just be glad you didn't publish it in a zine back in the day. One of these juvenile works is still famous in SciFi circles; The Eye Of Argon.

The boy who wrote it went on to become a journalist, but he never wrote fiction again.
 
You can just be glad you didn't publish it in a zine back in the day. One of these juvenile works is still famous in SciFi circles; The Eye Of Argon.

The boy who wrote it went on to become a journalist, but he never wrote fiction again.

LOL, priceless. :kiss:

"David Langford described Theis in SFX as 'a malaprop genius, a McGonagall of prose with an eerie gift for choosing the wrong word and then misapplying it.'"
 
LOL, priceless. :kiss:

"David Langford described Theis in SFX as 'a malaprop genius, a McGonagall of prose with an eerie gift for choosing the wrong word and then misapplying it.'"
There are some unexpectedly poetic turns of phrase as a result, in fact. And there's a bit about the old fat tyrant sucking in his gut in response to the barbarian hero's mighty physique-- very well observed for a sixteen year old!

I'm ashamed to say that I burned my old journals at one point. Otherwise I'd have a zinger or three to share on my own account :)
 
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