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Unlike some of the other writers on this blog, I do not have extensive experience in writing erotica. Writing for newspapers, yes, for corporations, yes, and for magazines, again, yes. But my erotic fiction credits to date include stories for the following anthologies, Best Lesbian Erotica (Cleis Press), Lesbian Cops (Cleis Press), Spankalicious: Erotic Adventures in Spanking (Ravenous Romance), and a thrillogy (a three-story antho), Power Plays: Kinkster Erotica, published by my small press, Ampersand Editions aka AmpED LIT. I’ve also edited and contributed to Girls Who Score: Hot Lesbian Erotica (Cleis Press), which I’m proud to say contains a story by Delilah and is up for both a Lambda Literary Award and a Golden Crown Literary Society award this year.

As you can see, I am somewhat of a newbie when it comes to writing erotica. You may also have deduced that the erotica writing experience I do have, pertains to the lesbian, bisexual, and BDSM categories, and not heterosexual erotic romance.

But, something about Delilah’s call for submissions spoke to me. At heart, I am a romantic. And I also happen to find both men and women beautiful. And, while sex for sex’s sake is hot, the truth is that when you add love, romance, and true intimacy to the mix, sex becomes scorching. Whether it was the fact that I have always wanted to contribute to one of Delilah’s anthologies (I admire and respect her as a writer and editor, immensely), or my head was filled with the scene from Magic Mike in which Joe Manganiello is dressed as a fireman, or whether I thought that submitting something to Smokin’ Hot Firemen would be a way of honoring the fireman in my life (my godfather has been fighting fires for decades), the point is that I overcame the inkling of doubt I had about writing something out of my established comfort zone and set out to write a M/F erotic romance story.

Once I made that decision, the rest came out, as it tends to do, in a fury. I knew I wanted Latino characters. I knew I wanted the setting to be some distant, tropical, hot climate. Jose, the MC, started his early morning jog right through my thoughts. His tall, lean, and tanned body, covered in nothing but loose-fitting basketball shorts and a pair of sneakers, pounded through my head, until my heart was pounding just as fast as his feet.

Isabella, the other MC, came next. Jose needed someone to save, but he also needed some saving himself, which is why Isabella’s more than your typical damsel in distress. The heat of the island, the instant chemistry between the main characters, the adrenaline, the lust — this was my kind of romance. After Jose’s initial steps, the story just gushed out of me, much like the gushing that takes place between Jose and Isabella, both figuratively and literally.

Thus, “Unexpected Detour” was born, and in a way, that title also stood for my experience venturing outside of my comfort zone. Thank you Delilah for coming up with such an inspirational concept. I can’t wait to read all the other stories.

From “Unexpected Detour” by Ily Goyanes

José looked down at his bare chest and admired the soot stains. He’d been jogging by one of the many cafeterias in downtown San Juan, noticed smoke billowing from the building up into the azure sky, and had run inside to see if he could help.

Out for his morning run, he’d run into the burning building wearing only basketball shorts and his well-worn running shoes—not exactly regulation—but that hadn’t stopped him. His captain would have his ass on Monday, at least on paper, but the write-up in his personnel file wouldn’t reveal the pride and admiration his brothers-in-arms would demonstrate behind closed doors.

He felt a light touch on his bicep and looked down to see the young lady he’d pulled out of the cafeteria and away from the fire. Like many Puerto Rican women, she had large brown eyes and thick, dark hair. She smiled tentatively, but squeezed his muscular arm affectionately.

“Gracias,” she said. “Me salvaste la vida.”

José turned towards her, his six-three frame towering over her barely-over-five-foot body. “De nada. I was just doing my job.” She was unusually beautiful, José noticed, wishing that his last heartache hadn’t diminished his spirit to the point where he couldn’t ask a woman out on a date without feeling as if he would have a panic attack. He ran into burning buildings for a living and went cliff diving for fun, but the thought of being hurt again terrified him.

Her eyes opened wide when she realized that he spoke English—not everyone on the island did. She clapped her hands excitedly. “Oh! You are a fireman?” she asked, speaking English with a cute sing-song quality he found endearing.

José nodded. “Ten years now, ma’am. I joined the academy right out of high school.”

“My name is Isabella. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

José noted the curvy body under her soot-covered sundress. Even through the loose cotton, there was no mistaking her Latin curves. He put his hand out. “I’m José, and the pleasure is all mine.” And it was, he thought. Her golden skin and thick wavy hair were the stuff his dreams were made of.

She winked at him then, and he felt a surge of adrenaline course through his body. The men at the firehouse called that feeling a “rescue high.” But José felt as if the heat taking over his body on this particular occasion had more to do with the woman he’d rescued than with the rescue itself.

When their hands met, he could tell she was feeling it too.

Isabella blushed and looked down. When she looked up again, there was a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “Can I take you home?” she asked, quickly adding, “I mean, can I give you a ride home? You saved my life, it’s the least I can do.” She looked back at the cafeteria, and then back at him. “I’m pretty sure I’ll be getting the day off.”