By E.J. Rand
“I start to write a sex scene and wind up with a love scene.” --E.J. Rand
My characters fall in love. It may be a torturous process, replete with danger and violence, but once they acknowledge their feelings, they both must find out if they are meant for one another sexually. She looks at he, he at she, and they want each other and the completeness that brings. Completeness is the right word: Wake up in the morning holding someone you adore, and the world is good. They may be afraid, shy, bucking all the defenses they've thrown up--but sexual passion is necessary or you have friendship.
Invariably, I start to write a sex scene and wind up with a love scene. While personally I glory in shape, color, texture, taste--all the remarkable differences God has given man and woman--the characters grab me by the (well, never mind) and dictate their scene.
To me, and I suspect the mass of readers, the puckering of jutting, two tone nipples--eroticism, to me--is less erotic than taking the reader on the short, powerful journey from wonder to love. I drafted the following recently. I'm writing in the head of Suzanne Martin, a strong woman who has come to trust Douglas Gallagher--and for her, that enables the rest.
"Can I kiss you?" he said. "No hands."
". . .I haven't brushed my teeth since yesterday. All those Chinese vegetables before. What if I have bad breath for our first kiss?"
"So? I'm a wounded man. . . .What if I can't get it up?" As she began laughing, he frowned. "What's funny about that?"
"Nothing. It's just--this is amazing. You're right, we can tell each other anything."
She hesitated but couldn't hold it in. "Douglas Gallagher, I'll help you get it up. Any time you need me to, any way you like."
She saw him flush, and she went on. "I never said that to anyone before. Never did it for anyone before. But before we kiss, I'm going to brush my teeth."
Perhaps eroticism is in the eye of the beholder.♥