Saturday, March 20, 2010

Is It Live or Is It Memorex?

D. L. King

When I was a little boy, they called me a liar, but now that I am grown up, they call me a writer. Isaac Bashevis Singer

“Have you done all those things you write about?”

When I’m at book signings or readings and I get a chance to talk to readers, it seems to be the main thing people ask. And if they don’t, you know they want to. So, let’s explore that question and its possible answers. First, if you’re unfamiliar with my work, I write erotica (OK, so you believe I’ve had sex. Many of us have.).

Slowly, I entered the room. It was pink and warm, and new and old, all at the same time, with lush carpets and antique wood furniture. I could just see the end of the king-size bed in the next room. In a trance, I made my way over to one of the windows and looked out. The sun was setting, providing the new leaves on the trees in the park with a perfect yellow-green glow. From this high up, with nothing in the way, to me they looked more like feathers than leaves. Central Park South was crowded with tourists bundled up in their coats, pointing cameras at everything.
“Park Suite” from the upcoming Sex in the City: New York, Maxim Jakubowski, ed.

This is a story about the last days of The Plaza, before it was sold and closed for renovation. And, yes, I’ve been to The Plaza… Let’s explore a little more, shall we?

When I didn’t come out of the fitting room right away, Mr. Snug entered. “Here, let me help you,” he said. I was standing in the middle of the large space with my arms above my head, fighting with the tight top. One breast was half covered and the other was completely exposed, and just to complete the picture, my face was wrapped in the rubber.


“No really, it’s perfectly all right,” he said. I felt baby powdered hands caressing my breasts. “It takes a while to get the hang of dressing in rubber.”
“Snug Designs” from Best Women’s Erotica 09, Violet Blue, ed.

Yep, that’s happened to me—it’s happened to everyone, hasn’t it? And yes, the sales person did come in to help. Sex, however, did not ensue…

When you first start writing seriously, you’re told to write about what you know. We know about a lot of things. I know, for instance, what the rooms at The Plaza used to look like; I know what trying on and wearing rubber clothing feels like; I know what bodies look like, feel like and what happens when they’re stimulated, excited, in pain, or about to orgasm. So far, so good. It’s looking like I could have done all those things I write about. Let’s continue on, shall we?

In “Hard Wet Silk” (Frenzy: 60 Stories of Sudden Sex, Alison Tyler, ed.) I wrote about a bar in Brooklyn (check!) and compared a hard cock to the feel of a moray eel (check!—yes, I played with a moray once on a scuba dive.) Did I get some guy to expose himself in a bar? I don’t know; you be the judge.

One of my favorite pieces is The Marrying Kind. It’s about two kids who fall in love and decide to get married. But first, the boy has to ask the girl’s mother for permission. The girl comes from a very wealthy, slightly unusual family. Here’s a short excerpt:

“Let’s talk about your sex life. I assume you’re living with her. Is that correct?”

“Um…” What the hell was she talking about? What submissive qualities?

“What’s your favorite type of sex to have with Claire?”

Bill began to sweat.

“Don’t fidget so much. It’s all right. I won’t hurt you. Let’s start with something simple. Do you like to perform oral sex on her?”

Bill choked on a sip of water.
The Marrying Kind

I don’t have any children, so I’ve never had that talk with a prospective son-in-law (But it would be fun, wouldn’t it?).

Then there are my Melinoe novels. Here’s an excerpt from The Melinoe Project:

He had no clue what was going on. He felt helpless to stop her. Here was this total stranger in his room and she was, well the only word he could think of was, “molesting” him. He couldn’t believe how turned on he was. She looked so innocent and sweet, but her eyes seemed to pierce his soul. They held his and wouldn’t let go.

“Lie back down on the bed,” she said, as she gently pushed against his chest. She was still holding his cock like a handle as she bent over him, forcing him back onto the bed. She moved her hand from his chest and pulled his jeans down around his ankles, never moving her other hand from his cock, or her eyes from his.
The Melinoe Project

All right, that might have happened… I don’t remember. After all, college was a long time ago. I’m just sayin’…

The Melinoe Project is about a guy who volunteers to take part in a research project studying sexual responses from submissive males to various physical and mental stimuli. I suppose you could look at it sort of like a “Perils of Paul” story. Now, here’s another excerpt from the book:

Although it looked like hard plastic, the bed felt soft as he lay down. It immediately conformed to his body. A band of the same material as the bed came up and around both his wrists, binding them to the bed. Similar bands bound his ankles to the bed. Another band came up around his forehead, immobilizing his head against the slightly elevated headrest. Although he struggled against the new bonds, it was a purely automatic response. Being bound thrilled him, and began to expand what had been, up to this point, only a slight tumescence.
The Melinoe Project

I’ll tell you what, this bed is the coolest thing since sliced bread. No, scratch that, it’s way cooler than sliced bread. Later on, the bed does lots of other things. It kneads and massages various areas of his body and even forms itself into long, slender and sometimes not so slender probes just made for… well, you get the idea. I’d kill to have something like this—but I don’t—because it’s science fiction… So, no, it’s safe to say I haven’t done any of this—or at least, not a lot…

They say writers should write about what they know. I do. And then I embellish. I’m not going to tell you what’s based on knowledge and what’s based on research and embellishment; that’s for you to think about in the wee hours of the night. And really, it’s more fun that way, isn’t it?

“Have you done all those things you write about?” (Are you now, or have you ever been, a pervert?) –Well, yes, of course, I’m a pervert… Let’s just leave it at that, shall we?


D. L. King is a smut-writing New Yorker. Some call it erotica and some call it porn; she calls it a good time. She also edits smut and publishes the erotica book review site, Erotica Revealed. She’s written two novels and her short stories can be found where all the best smut is sold. For more information, check out her website. (


  1. Thank you for joining us here at the Grip.

    Fantastic post and some wonderful extracts. The Melinoe Project remains one of my favourite titles.



  2. Now I know why one speaks of "sexual morays."

  3. Wild Thing!

    You're being too modest. College might have been a long time ago, but I know you've been up to a few things since then.

    Hot excerpts.

  4. Thanks Ashley! The check is in the mail--oh, is the Royal Mail on strike again???

    But Jeremy, I was being literal...

    And, shhh, Kathleen. There might be some people reading this blog who don't know me!

  5. Book signings. Readings. Fans. Writing about what you know.

    You're very blessed. What I know wouldn't get me even half the way home.

    That's how it is sometimes.


  6. Ah, but half the way home from where? Because half the way home from a long way away is a lot, I'm just sayin'... I think you know plenty!

  7. Fabulous post!

    Now I've never tried on anything rubber. Nor stroked a moray eel for that matter...

    So I think you win ;^)

    Seriously, maybe a better question would be "Would you like to do all the things that you write about?"

    Looking forward to reading your Sex in the City story!


  8. Thanks Lisabet. Next time you're in town we'll go try on rubber outfits!



Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.