Most of my writing is a combination of fact and fiction. So here are three excerpts (one from each collection), with a little bit of "background information" on what inspired the content ;)
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Excerpt(s) of Primal Scream:
A preview is available via Google Books (coming soon).
Excerpt #1 (from Wicked Lovely / Story #1 in Fashion Icon):
I want Julie completely in the nude I lie there over her frozen for a minute as I build up the courage to start removing her magnificent mind-blowing panties when suddenly, she flickers her eyelids open.
"Ed," she says softly.
God Almighty she recognizes me and this is the end of me. She’s going to scream and I’ll have to knock her out. Promptly. Soon. Now. I’m a murderer. This was doomed from the start. Anything would be better. Getting raped by a stranger, being kidnapped, anything but your own step brother
Background Info: Wicked Lovely was the first taboo-themed piece I completed. I enjoyed the stream-of-consciousness freestyle style of Ed's sections in the story (the "step"-brother). I would like to do more
I think what inspired the taboo-themed stories was reading real-life accounts online. I wasn't expecting stories of this topic to be banned by Amazon (and other retailers), but since there's a way to sidestep the issue (by writing about step relatives, instead of blood relatives -- please "use your imagination" if you enjoy stories of the original theme), I'm likely to continue exploring the ("adjusted") theme in future works.
To me, it's the matter of consent that matters more than the taboo aspect. I elaborate a bit more on this earlier Q&A I did for 4:Play (my first erotic anthology).
My intent was never to be controversial or outrageous. I guess it was/is simply due to the fact that I don't have a brother, but if I did, it's a moot point as to whether I'd...
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Excerpt #2 (from Jack in the Box / Story #2 in AFF / Factual Fiction):
The scene was a swirl of candy bright lights--the Victoria’s Secret fuchsia signboard, signboards which lured one to purchase “confidence,” or “sexual appeal,” or whatever it was that was being advertised--the fluorescent lights in each store, contrasting with the shiny, black-tiled walls and eye-catching speckled marble tiles on the ground.
One could lick the floor--the tiles were spotless, clean like the fake air she was breathing in, like the atoms and cells in her that were decaying in stale neglect.
"Miss…what brand of facial wash do you use?" a cool, level voice asked, breaking through the little bubble Drea was encapsulated in. She heard the words in drifts and drabs—"Miss" and "facial" were the only ones she heard clearly.
A young man had appeared, and was standing next to her, quite near to her. He had entered her personal space without even trying. Drea’s mind and spirit were so dead and desensitized, that her entire being engaged the well-groomed, pleasant, and easy-to-look-at figure before her. He was a hint of a breath of fresh air/oxygen--and she was happy to take it, even if it lasted for just a second.
Background Info: Jack in the Box is epistolary (like my debut blog novel, EyeLeash), and close to 100% real. That's all I'm going to say, so here's another short excerpt from AFF!
Excerpt #2.5 (from Catholic School Girls Rule / Story #3 in AFF / Factual Fiction):
Brett stood up, and held his hand out for Chantal to pick herself up from the ground. She stood beside him, still shy and demure, wide-eyed, feeling her bones melt, when he cornered her against the concrete side of the canal. It was heat, passion, wildness, and purity all combined in a moment, a prelude to the impending cataclysm Chantal was sure was coming.
"Tie me up, please…" Chantal said. They looked above at some vines and roots hanging down from the grassy area above the depression in the canal they were standing in. She was in his hands—he had to comply.
Background Info: I attended St. Anthony's Canossian Convent in Singapore, and my classroom *was* situated next to a canal. I did use to see some boys fishing and running around in the canal (during low tide)...I guess it was a good setting to place this story. I wanted to do something different from the usual "nymphomaniac Catholic school girl" pornographic archetype (I tried to ground it more in reality than fantasy).
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Excerpt #3 (from Teacher's Pet / Story #3 in PLAY / BDSM Anthology):
Perlah remembered observing Walter Edwards's hand and forearm during his first lecture. He had been drawing something on the whiteboard with care and precision, the line of muscle showing when he raised his forearm. They were fluid, artistic hands, which made her wonder what he could do with them.
She studied his hands the same way he studied her pictures, in a semi-detached kind of way. He had the type of hands an artist would love to make figure studies of, the type of hands that could engage the primal scream coming from a body that wanted to be set free, that was craving for some kind of transcendence.
"And I would hate to see your talent go to waste…whether or not you're still a student of Tate Polytechnic," Walter remarked, looking at the photograph of a girl's handcuffed wrists in front, her pinky fingers shaped in a heart. The wry smile and puckered lips in the slightly out of focus background added a tinge of sarcasm. "What do you plan to do after leaving school?"
Background Info: I attended Temasek Polytechnic in Singapore after completing secondary school. I didn't get into sexcapades with any teacher, though I did leave my course of study halfway. I didn't feel particularly inspired by what I was supposed to be learning, so I quit to look for something more fulfilling.
This is also the excerpt/story in which the words "Primal Scream" appear. I had in mind the title of Primal Scream from quite early on, though I wasn't too sure which story would feature the words (if any story did at all). I initially intended to call the BDSM-themed anthology "Primal Scream," but decided to pack several collections into what would eventually develop into the full Primal Scream anthology.
I guess I wanted a title that was loud yet subtle, something that captures the tension and all-consuming intensity of a person/body that's "craving for some kind of [sexual] transcendence."
* More Excerpts @ Primal Scream | jessINK