The Erotic Writer

Four writers for the price of one blog


“There’s nothing here.” The humid air sat heavy on her shoulders.

“Stop being so negative,” her friend said. “What all is ‘somethin’ to you anyways?”

“Something is something.” She looked out into the bayou. The bar played scratched blues records behind them.

“You knew good and goddamned well that there wasn’t nothin’ here when you came,” her friend said. She handed her a glass of bourbon.

“Maybe I thought that was a good thing at the time.” She had already drunk so much whiskey her sweat was smoky, but she still shot it in two gulps.

There was a loud blast of music as a group of college students came out to the deck. She usually waited until a drunk tourist jumped into the bayou to cool off amongst the catfish before going home, but she felt empty.

“I’m gettin’ outta here.” She kissed her friend and walked into the bar. Familiar faces spouted compliments, men she’d tried and found wanting. She thought of the half empty bottle of vodka in her fridge and her nipples hardened. Tonight it would be just her and the bayou. Again.

“Excuse me, miss.” The stranger blew a thick stream of cigarette smoke over her head. He looked bored and drunk.

“Yes, mister?” she replied sarcastically. Her hand remained on the door.

“You’ve got a hell of a tick sucking away there on your thigh.”


He pointed his cigarette near the fork of her legs. “There.”

She touched the tiny carapace, felt her fingernail click on it.

“Jesus, that’s gross!” He grabbed her hand quick as lightning before she could scratch it off.

“Wouldn’t want to do that, miss.” He held the lit cigarette close to her face. “Allow me.”

He knelt behind her. He took a drag off his cigarette and pressed the red-hot cherry on the parasite. It fell to the floor, smoking. He squeezed her thigh and then put his mouth on her.

“What the-” He held her still and sucked painfully. A couple of people sniggered and pointed.

“Y’all, git a room!” a toothless codger yelled. Someone whooped.

She surprised herself by remaining still as he sucked. He spit bloody saliva on the floor, then picked up his drink. She didn’t know what to say.

“It’s a damn sight easier than snake venom.” He took another drink.

“Uh. Yes. I imagine.” She still felt the aching outline of his lips on her thigh. He ran his hand through his hair and it stuck out in leonine spikes that filtered the neon light into a profane diadem.

“You need a drink,” he said. He pulled out the chair next to his.

“I was just headed home.” She was out of breath.

His eyes moved over her body. “Pity,” he said.

Had she felt his tongue flicking over the bite as he sucked out the blood? She couldn’t tell.

“I live just a stone’s throw away. Why don’t I buy you a drink? Least I could do.”

“What’s a ‘stone’s throw’?” He shot the last of his tequila.

“Means we could walk.”

“Let’s go.” He walked out of the bar and she followed. She picked up a big flashlight from behind a barren stone flowerpot.

“Just this way,” she said and walked into a broad gravel path. He matched her gait, then walked a step or two ahead.

“I’m back here you know,” she said, exasperated.

“Aren’t you afraid of animals in this darkness?” He looked around at the black wall of trees on either side.

“Uh, no,” she said. She’d never thought about it. An owl flapped across their path. He stopped and put his arm protectively across her chest. Her breasts jiggled above his forearm.

“Stand down, soldier. It was just a night bird.” She giggled. “You’re definitely not from around here.” She pointed her flashlight toward a small white bungalow by the water. “And here we are.”

He ate up the last 25 yards and began looking around her veranda. His face poked through a green fall of ferns as she walked into her house.

“You don’t lock it?”

“There’s no need to,” she yelled at him from her kitchen. “There’s nothing in here worth boosting anyway.” She came back to the veranda holding two jelly jars and a bottle. “What are you looking for?”

“Creatures, I suppose. Seems this place is chock full of ’em.” He sat down on a cane back rocking chair. He was so tall it creaked with his weight. “Vodka?”

“Oh yeah,” she said and sat opposite him. He drank it all in a gulp.

He held the sweaty jar up to the light of the moon. “You’re not from around here either.”

“Perceptive.” She poured him another drink and left it on the windowsill where he could reach it. She watched him from the rim of her jar. He looked both perfectly at home and completely out of place. He pointed to a basket filled with bits of driftwood.

“That’s whittlin’ wood,” she said. “I make little figurines and give them to the bar owner. She sells them to the tourists and gives me a cut.”

He lifted his jean leg and pulled a blade out of his boot. “May I?”


He whittled confidently and for a while, the only sound were the crickets and his knife scraping wood. Something hooted in the distant, a mournful sound. He looked toward the water.

“Night bird?”

“No. Crocodile.”

His eyes widened. “Seriously?”


“You’re not afraid they’ll come ashore or somethin’?”

“There were more frightening monsters where I came from.” Her eyes were hooded.

“Nola?” He tried to sound nonchalant.


He nodded as if she’d just confirmed his suspicions. “You still have that aura about you. A kinda… look.”

“What look is that?”

“Don’t know,” he said judiciously.

To be continued…

This is just a preview. If you’d like to read more, Erotikos is available now at Burning Book Press or Amazon!

About ximenawrites

I undulate in your vision A strange beauty in a world of plastic, collagen and steel The endearing oddball the living, breathing Picasso that you want to figure out but too afraid to venture into my penumbra you cower at the gate, fingering the knob on the door to my most secret place wishing you could find the courage to walk with me love me, just as I am

22 comments on “Something

  1. paul1510
    March 23, 2012

    Beautifully descriptive, some people are never strangers.
    This is lovely, thank you.
    I take it that Nola is New Orleans?
    Warm hugs,

    • ximenawrites
      March 23, 2012

      I’m glad you liked it, Paul.

      >>I take it that Nola is New Orleans?<<

      Yes :D

  2. Aisling Weaver
    March 23, 2012

    Ah, this was just lovely. Darkly sweet like caramel gone almost burnt. Love the threads of whispered story tugged through the sex and woven into the ending to lead the reader out.

    Truly well done, X,

    • ximenawrites
      March 24, 2012

      Thanks a bunch, Ais.

      For some reason, getting this story on paper was like pulling teeth. It took me a while to get things just the way I wanted them… and I’m really gratified to see it was worth the effort.

  3. Marie
    March 23, 2012

    The moment was beautiful. I don’t know how else to describe it. The connection felt so real and sincere.

  4. vanillamom
    March 23, 2012


    This…was …a-mazing. …it was like watching a movie unroll in my head. I could hear it feel it taste it…

    Redemptive without preaching. So full of hope despite the dark metaphors…Beautifully, wonderfully done. Best line that I’ve ever read?

    “He fucked infinity signs into her,”

    Talk about a word picture.

    I’d throw confetti and yell hooray….but there was a hushed grandeur about this amazing piece that makes me sit, and smile as i cry a little.


    • ximenawrites
      March 24, 2012

      >>he fucked infinity signs into her<>I’d throw confetti and yell hooray….but there was a hushed grandeur about this amazing piece that makes me sit, and smile as i cry a little.<<

      Thank you, Nilla. *blushing*

  5. robinsounder
    March 23, 2012

    This is wonderful. I envy your ability to describe things in a way that makes the reader feel the action, characters and setting in such a cohesive manner.

    I started reading this at work and, um, had to stop because it was a bit too distracting…In a good way!


  6. wordsmithingimp
    March 23, 2012

    I swear, I’ve been aching to visit New Orleans for the past month now. This story isn’t helping my cravings.
    Beautifully told. I love how rich the characters in this one were.

    • ximenawrites
      March 24, 2012

      Almost went to school there. I kinda regret it now.

      Welcome, wordsmithingimp!

    • wordsmithingimp
      March 24, 2012

      I’ve never been. But I just read “A Good Scent from a Strange Mountain” for an American Lit class, and the whole thing took place in New Orleans. Sounded lovely.

      Thanks for the welcome! I’m not actually new though, I’m afraid. “AspiringWordsmith” was just already taken as a username, and I wanted to give this erotic blogging business a try. You folks make it look like fun. :P

  7. willcrimson
    March 23, 2012

    Wow, Ximena. You did a beautiful job delineating their characters through sex/love making. This is fantastic. You wow’d me with the way you created an atmosphere. Their mutual attraction was completely believable. You keep raising the ante, damn it; and I love it. God, but I love being with writers who inspire me to do better.

    • ximenawrites
      March 24, 2012

      I can’t sit on my figurative laurels with you and Monocle, Ais, RM, etc, constantly raising the bar.

      At this point, I’m just happy to be in your company and to keep up.

  8. Mystique
    March 24, 2012

    Poignant, very poignant, a beautiful story :)

  9. Dana
    March 24, 2012

    Oh wow. Chivalry isn’t dead. Yum.

  10. weird
    March 25, 2012

    it is always better to give them what the need rather than what they want

    • ximenawrites
      March 25, 2012

      Well, we can start with what they need then delve into their wants, right?


    • Weird
      March 25, 2012

      after the needs have been met, sure.

  11. Squeaky
    April 3, 2012

    Read this on the bus into work. Now my eyes are stinging, there’s a lump in my throat, and my day will be haunted by the bayou, and the exorcism of clumsy, selfish lovers. Beautiful as always, Ximena.

  12. racytay
    April 5, 2012

    So…I loved this, have been to NO and this evokes my memory of it. I really wish there was a whole novel from which this was an excerpt so I could read it. *hint!*

  13. Anonymous
    May 15, 2012

    Wow – this is absolutely amazing. Your fascination with the relationship between women and men – pure genius on paper. If you’ve put together a collection of these stories – I’d buy. What you’ve accomplished is no easy feat – your ability to interweave the story with the sex is unusual – and now I’m gushing ::-D anyway thank you for sharing your stories.

  14. Marguerite
    August 15, 2012

    I’ve only recently discovered this blog and I’ve been working my way through your page. This story touched me deeply. I could feel her pain and longing and confusion and was amazed at his perception and the way he touched her. It all brought me to tears.

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Crimsonian & Obsidian Lens

The Obsidian Lens and Crimsonian contain links to password-protected stories from the Erotic Writers with darker themes. For more information on Obsidian Lens, click here. Email William Crimson directly for admission to the Crimsonian.

Adult Content

This blog contains adult material. If you are a minor, please go. If you are an adult, you are welcome to stay but be warned, this blog contains erotic fiction and images - sexually explicit content abounds. The themes sometimes tend toward the darker and weirder corners. Be your own judge when deciding what to read.

The rights to all stories by William Crimson are reserved by William Crimson. The rights to all stories by Monocle are reserved by Monocle. The rights to all stories by Ximena are reserved by Ximena.

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