I write here of romance, intimacy, sensuality and erotic suggestion. The stories are written quickly using a great deal of imagination and improvisation, this time with text instead of music. (Improvisation = let the heart speak before the mind?)
Why did I initially choose this subject matter?
A search through the bestsellers on the web classified as romantic / erotic left me disappointed and unconvinced with the extracts I was reading. Yet these books sell successfully in huge numbers (51% of all books sold in the USA are I understand classified as romantic and /or erotic) yet for me something was missing.
I began to wonder why such intricate yet ultimately transparent storylines focused to a point of expected intimacy only to find on numerous occasions these important climatic scenes were then neglected, glossed over, poorly written, often crudely with an abundance of f – words (as if that is all that is required!) and not much else!
I decided to try and write for myself these intimate scenes from imagination. Since we deal elsewhere on this site with spiritual matters, from that point of view too!
With the change in emphasis now strongly on the “what actually did happen” bit, you may find the explicit nature of my work difficult perhaps due to the writing being unusual and new, certainly I haven’t found anything of the like before, or you may consider I have used too much of my imagination leaving too little for you the reader to imagine yourself! This may be true yet I have attempted to write something different here and ultimately my goal was / is to create ‘believable’ writing with a strong emphasis on the spiritual link to sensuality within the context of love and desire.
It is important too for you the reader to understand the conditions I set upon myself in writing these stories.
I decided from the outset to omit the following, which I have found, often used as 'devices' to prop up a storyline in novels dealing with this subject matter
• violence of any description
• all swear words however mild
• all forms of crudity
• superfluous third-party characterization
• gimmicks
I hope you enjoy reading my work - mh
What interests me is how romantic writing can be made elegant, intimate and sensual, whilst retaining drama and bite.
To start a line with no planned end to that line somehow for me connects with the wish to reach a poetic sense and all the while searching to gain an emotive response.
Believability at the outset is important, then to distort, treat, magnify, alter and turn to fantasy, retains believability, challenging emotion and instinct drawing reaction to preconceptions?
Like painting abstractly or creating avant-garde music, I write for imaginative expression, over rational thought, where ideas fuse to portray pictures in words. Martin Hawks (2001)
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My fingers gently unbuttoned her blouse to become loose about her. Behind, I freed her breasts to lightly hold in my hands. Gentle slow movement from her hips and thighs, pleasure in feeling warmth upon my skin, bringing her scent closer to invigorate me, to energise whilst to her mouth my wistful eyes went, her tongue in motion about her lips to moisten. Her soft cheeks warm upon mine, the first touch of her, gentle, then closer and more so to quicken my pulse and arouse.
My eyes closed tight from a sudden quiver as her touch released my natural hesitancy. Now invigorated with her desires I did not open my eyes to show what I saw, for she was intense about me and swiftly, I felt her movement upon my face. We shared that which is necessary to sustain the depth of mutual feeling, her touch gave sensual pleasure, I responded to her in ways unsure yet I knew myself deeper in knowing her and found ways to please her. She gave of herself that night long ago. Tomorrow we climb with adventures new.
________o0o________
The march through snow was arduous and difficult. Heavy boots sank into crisp frozen ice. Boots on weary legs with aching feet. We climbed the steep incline, the snow-covered slopes that led to the summit of Mont Blanc. A day on the mountain, the weather piercing cold and biting hard. We climbed yet further into freezing ice.
Snow and sky, a barren world of loneliness in isolation, no breath or moment, abandonment of all living things, hostile, a wilderness alone, unpleasant and cold. Hour upon hour we moved upwards. Snow upon snow came into view, formations of giant size emerged under a blue haze and shining moon, to cast shadows on sparkling ice.
I stopped to catch my breath, a turn and smile for her, just visible under my snow goggles. Arms energetically waved about for warmth, hers and mine, then a hug for her, more still in vigorous movement.
Upwards lay crystalline snow, packed hard in frozen ice. A dream world beaconed towards the summit. This was the highest peak in the Alpine range. Our climb continued a pace this clear afternoon late into February.
Time, a meaningless dimension in this place and time was spirited away as we rose higher in sub-zero temperatures. Around us the wind made difficulty in seeing, and eyes became blurred and vision impaired. The wind whipped and billowed with relentless tugs at my hooded clothing that offered little protection from the biting wind.
Yet as condensation went from my snow goggles, I wiped the wet and dirt from the glass and my eyes spied the view beyond. Magnificent with splendour. Spectre and shadows. Grand formations loomed recklessly, stacked one upon the other. Peak upon peak of colour and shadow, a myriad of forms, angular and jutting far to the distant horizon.
She looked too in amazement, the view we shared elevated our spirits to find a smile with cheer, turning the panorama in majestic wonder into a private playground for two. A look, a hug, a shared smile, a frozen kiss took my breath and returned my thoughts to the previous night in her arms.
We dined late into the evening with considerable pleasure and warmth. We fell easily into conversation. The long night and day in travel became a memory for in tiredness her beauty transgressed my imaginings. We talked until late, the warm intimate atmosphere of the chalet inn at Kandersteg, Switzerland took on special meaning, a lead up to our climb the following morning. Candles at the table inspired romance to our talk. After the meal we made our way to an immaculately prepared room, warm and cosy. We shared a joke in laughter as we dropped with purpose to the bed, faces close, eyes fixed on the other. I noticed her with new attention.
She was pretty, clear pale skin, her hair natural in curls to below the shoulder, dark in colour. She wore a blue woven knitted cardigan under which was a delicate lace frill blouse with frilly sleeves to her delicate hands. Her blouse I noticed had the top two buttons undone. Upon her waist a light cotton dress, light faded matt blue, perfect in fit to her slender form. In the subdued light of the room her features came alive to me. Dark eyes expertly made, slender eyebrows, pale natural lips , and slight freckles to her cheeks.
I reflected upon the romantic circumstance of this night together and wondered how it was possible to find such intimate relations with one so perfect. Her name was Rachel. I had known her for many years. She was a good friend and two occasions in four years, more so. I telephoned her three weeks ago to ask her climb with me. With enthusiasm she replied . . . "yes - I'd be delighted!" I had assumed intimacy with her that night, yet as we prepared for sleep, this remark came from her.
"There is nothing more for you with me for I am spent!
"We have a long day tomorrow . . . . . don't we." she firmly announced, pausing after the word tomorrow.
"What is this tease?" I replied.
I reacted with forceful interruption to her contrivance! She met my look with resolve. In haste and candour I submitted to my lustful urge that now overwhelmed upon me for she was once more, as I had known her, charged with sensual energy bringing my attentions strongly to the point of recklessness. In defiance of her finality I said this.
