MY SORDID LIFE
by marsha rice
I enjoy sex. Lots of it and often. In some circles, my conquests would be looked upon with awe and I would be held in high esteem among my peers. That is, if I were a guy. I am not. Due to that fact, I have been called a multitude of names, heard the snickers and whispers behind my back, and seen the evil glances from people I don’t even know.
Do I care? Not really. You see, I am happy with my life. Who I have sex with, and how often I have sex, is nobody’s business but my own. Until now. I have decided to share my story with you.
I always dreamed about being a famous author, I thought it would be cool to go into a book store and see my name on the spine of a best seller, however, I had never written anything other than a grocery list.
I saw an ad on the internet for submissions by amateur writers for inclusion in upcoming anthologies by a well-known publishing company. Multiple genres were available including: fantasy, horror, mystery, romance, science fiction and historical to name a few.
Intrigued, I ventured onto their website. Sure enough, I fit the main criteria. They were searching for authors that had never been published before; that was me. But the real question was, could I write? And what could I write about? I really didn’t have any expertise in anything. I can cook, you know they say the closest way to a man’s heart (and other parts) is through his stomach, but I am nowhere near chef-worthy. I’ve always been interested in sports, but so are a lot of people, and the guys on TV certainly know more about sports than I do. There were two sports I was really good at, softball and sex, if sex even is a sport. Much to my surprise, under romance on their list is a sub-genre, erotica. Really? Did that mean I could write about my sex life and someone might want to read about it? After all, the ad said, “sex sells”.
Their website suggested that I research how erotica was written by other authors. The best way to do this was to read, and read I did. Over the course of three days, I must have consumed at least two books and too many short stories to count, not to mention several bottles of my favorite wine. My favorite? The kind with a cork in it, but the ones with a screw on cap will suffice in a pinch.
Some of the stories left me scratching my head in wonderment, like, did they ever actually read what they wrote before they posted it? While others made me want to deliriously fondle myself while being engulfed in some of the most engrossing sexcapades that I was not a part of.
If they only knew of some of the things I had done. Wait, that’s it. My life as a perverted, promiscuous slut. It was time to put my thinking cap on and try and remember some of the uninhibited adventures that I got myself tangled up with. I would of course have to change everyone’s names. I wouldn’t want anybody to be able to recognize themselves, although there was usually at least one other person involved in each instance, and I think they would know who they were.
So, welcome to “My Sordid Life”.