WRITERS WRITE...WRITING PARTNERS FEUD ~ SO WHERE’S THE ROMANCE IN EROTICA?

A:  (The sad face appears...exaggerated sighs....unsettled movements)  No hugs, no silly whispers, no tender licks, not even a snuggle or a nose to nose eye embrace.

Z:  I told you Bodi is ill, the doggie will be back to herself in a few days.

A:  (Pouts) Granted, I feel lost without my gal’s affection, but I was talking about what I am working on… I am lost there as well.  I can’t find the romance in my erotica.  It’s like eating dark bitter chocolate rather than milk chocolate…  so slam and bam without even a thank ya kindly ma'am.  So aggressive when I want soft.

Z:  (Offers his full attention and has the tone and demeanor of a professor)  Erotica has a keener edge toward the tactile, more action, get to the meat and potatoes,  tit...alation personified, while romance is subtle, lots of appetizers and desserts and plenty of comments on the sensory enjoyment of the meal.  The goal of sex is oft time different.  Romance is about bonding souls and erotica is more often about expressing raw, animalistic feelings.

A:  Are you hungry or something?

Z:  No, just using words that are close to your heart.

A:  (Nods in appreciation then wrinkles a questioning brow) Why do you have a handful of plastic-bead necklaces?

Z:  Tuesday was Mardi Gras.

A:  And?

Z:  I figured in the Mardi Gras tradition... every now and then today... I'll toss you a necklace if you flash me your boobs.

A:  Huh?  (She wiggled a finger in her ear as if clearing it out to hear better)

Z:  (Repeated his wanted transaction, adding a teasing grin)  Your boobs for my necklace.  (He gave her the ok hand gesture)  You have such big fanciful boobs and my necklaces are so shiny... see... hypnotic... you are getting sleepy... sleepy...! 

A:  Really... Honestly...  Truly... you thought that?

Z:  Mardi Gras told me to think that.

A:  Rethink, dude!

Z:  But the beads for boobs is pertinent.  It is a right to it... no build up... beads for boobs. 

A:  No sweet talk... no longing separations of want... no inspired closeness... just bead for boobs?  (She had the look of someone who just heard someone say the sky is falling and looked up to see if they meant it)  Pertinent?

Z:  Yes!  (He daggles a necklace and bounces his eye-brows as if he is teasing his pup with a ball-ball)  Necklace... come and get it... you know what Zi wants... please me... lift it... show me...

A:  STOP!  (She followed the bouncing glittering pretty beads just like the pup would the ball-ball then seemed to pull herself out of a trance)  Put those away... I need more than a flash... I know dudes can flash into sensations of feelings but I want more... and no way in Hell am I going to... get it!

Z:  I am doing this for you.

A:  (Was that cajoling she heard?) How's that?

Z:  We are writing erotica and you need to be more spontaneous... more daring... more get right to it... more audacious... be the vampy heroine not just her inventor.

A:  (Implements her timeless, redundant eye-roll to the heavens for divine deliverance from madmen)  Let's work.

Z:  (He jiggles the beads with luring suggestiveness and keeps them in easy reach) 

(Time passed as they wrote... edited... discussed motivation... outcome (teehee)... and re-edited)

A:  (Sits back, contemplates out loud) Bodice ripper...is there a time and place?

Z:  Absolutely.  There are times a woman wants to be taken.

A:  Often after she knows she wants to be taken, and the reader knows this is what she wants.  Erotica oft assumes all women want to be taken.

Z:  Romance writing does the same but in a more gentle way.  Hell, don't we all want to be taken?  Take me.  A necklace?  Come on be bold... lift that blouse.

A:  No!

Z:  (Zi wrote as Ang read)  Some romantic erotica.

"Leave me be," she flashed at the soldier blocking her path. 

"I've come for my kiss,"

"I have no kiss for you.  Now or ever."

"You lie."

"How rude of you." 

"I have watched you study me like a cat her prey." 

"I have not!" 

"You lie.  I've come to claim my kiss." 

"Let me by." 

He grabbed her arm, clenched it tightly, pulled her close.  She struggled, tearing at his strength and bulky fingers, but could not release his hold.  She felt as if the rag doll being flung by a playful child, but this child was playing spitefully.  Her free arm found a fist and she began to beat his chest, but that did not discourage him, leaning into her, poised to kiss.  She reached to his cheek, sunk her fingernails into flesh and scrapped.  He did not whimper or flinch.  The crimson blood quickly followed and she knew she had gone too far. 

"Forgive me that," she cajoled, the pretence of defiance gone.  Her eyes pleading.

His mouth encroached.  She knew his crave, knew her own need, and fell willingly, eagerly into his mouth, lost in the passion she denied and he always knew.

A:  I liked that. 

Z:  A necklace?

A:  Maybe for a lobster dinner.  (She joked... why... she wanted the necklaces to be put away)

Z:  Deal!  (He feigned making reservations)   

 ***
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Angelica Hart and Zi ~ Vixen Bright and Zachary Zane
www.champagnebooks.com - www.carnalpassions.com - angelicahartandzi.com