You… You want me to entertain you?
To seduce you? To caress you my words and make you shiver?
Yes, I write erotica. Among other things.
Okay. Yes. You are in control. You’re the reader. As a writer, I have to give in to your demands. That’s the deal. Yes, Milady.
But, before we go any further, are you really sure you want this? Erotica is a liaison between the writer and the reader. Between you and me. What do you know about me? Do you want to give this unknown man access to your brain, your heart, your soul? You want me to lure you into my labyrinth of seduction and lust?
I’m just a writer. Just someone to provide you with a thrill, a dose of pleasure, and leave you afterwards. I’m a faceless man, just a name without meaning. And I don’t even know you. You’re completely anonymous. Short and sweet, no regrets. Just a secret little guilty pleasure.
Nobody needs to know.
Okay, here we go…
Footsteps, his smell. He was here.
Slowly, she turned away from the window.
His breath escaped his mouth. No quite whistling, but something close to it. Whispering whistling. Did that make sense?
It didn’t matter. She smiled. A compliment was a compliment.
He took her in his arms but hesitated. He looked her over once more.
She raised an eyebrow. You like?
He nodded. I like.
Her lips pouted. Kiss!
His eyes laughed, he shook his head. You’re too beautiful to kiss!
An animal grunt. With one hand she took his head, forcing it down. They kissed.
They both ended with lipstick all over.
They just kissed again.
You liked it? Yeah, it was romance, not erotica. Just a little taste. A tease. Sweet and innocent. A promise.
You want more?
Tut-tut, you’re greedy! But I’ll comply. With pleasure.
You can find me in the First Response anthology. My story is called “Save Me Twice”. I think you’ll like it. And after that… Let’s meet up on amazon.com. Just type in my name, and you’ll find more erotica. It’s not all erotica; I also write other stuff. Some a bit rougher, some with a bit more magic, some a bit scarier. But I’d love to meet you there…
Writing erotica is fun. It’s one of the few genres where the writer tries to form an intimate bond with the reader for a while. Well, at least as long as the story stretches, and sometimes even beyond. Horror is another genre, but the emotions are different. (And yes, there is horror-erotica out there, and I’ve sure done my share of that.)
Writing my story “Safe me Twice” for The First Responder anthology was a bigger challenge then I had anticipated. On the surface, it sounded pretty easy: a damsel in distress, a modern white knight like a firefighter, cop or such. A piece of cake!
Not really. Nor for me anyway.
— Jaap Boekestein
Excerpt from “Save Me Twice”
Playing with handcuffs leads to unexpected and sexy consequences for a timid office worker when she loses the key…
“Hello, Amanda?” It was Xander.
“Over here.” It was more a whisper than a cry, but still, he heard her.
She watched him approach. He was back in his jeans and black wifebeater. No lumberjack shirt, though. Broad shoulders, muscled arms, powerful hands used to working with metal and heavy tools.
Amanda didn’t feel strong at all. Her knees were wobbly, her head light. She felt hot like she had a fever.
He didn’t say anything, just looked at her.
He knows what I’ve done. Why I’ve done it.
Did she blush? Well, sure, somewhere in her body the blood was pumping. A little red-hot coal, down there.
Dear Lord, I’m such a slut to do this. To let this… No, to want this.
Well, she didn’t care. She wanted it. Yes, she wanted it as badly as life itself.
Xander moved over to her. His hand caught her face, tenderly.
Long, strong fingers. The smell of metal, rust, oil. Xander-smell.
Amanda sniffed him, almost licked his hand.
No! I wouldn’t dare! I…
She looked up at him. “I’ve been stupid. And bad. I want you… I… I want you to punish me. Please.”
Am I saying this? Am I really asking this? I must be mad!
She was mad. Damned mad. With lust and desire. She had never been so sure of herself.
Please, please, please. Don’t laugh. Don’t turn away.
“You’re sure, Amanda?”
He kept looking at her.
Finally, she said, “I’m sure.”
“And do you trust me?”
He nodded. “Okay. Remember you can ask me to stop at any moment. If you’re uncomfortable or it feels wrong, just say so. I won’t go any further than you’re ready for.”
“Thank…thank you,” Amanda whispered. “I’m sure. Please, punish me. I’m yours. I want this.”
He bowed towards her, held her head with both hands, and kissed her.
Lips, tongue. Nice.
Xander left Amanda panting, her body hanging over the desk, both her hands cuffed. His strong hands glided downwards over her neck and shoulders, her back and tush, down the line of her skirt.
She didn’t want to…
All of a sudden, there was no doubt, no hesitation. Yes, she did. She certainly did want this.
Fingers touched the backside of her knees—tickling! Oh!—closing around the hem of her skirt.