Can it be done? A sex scene in ten pages or less | jenniferstevenson.com

Can it be done? A sex scene in ten pages or less

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I wrote this story for an RWA critique session. My chapter does “hot nights.” The authors bring sex scenes to read. I was feeling pretty cocky, because whatever I decided to read, people always loved my sex scenes, right? Then I noticed that the fine print said, “Bring ten pages.” Turned out that all my sex scenes run fourteen to forty pages. Oops.

So I wrote Dezyrah’s Talk Dirty To Me.

I did it in all-dialogue for two reasons: one, I’d read some Terry Bisson short stories in all-dialogue which blew my mind, and I wanted to try that. Two, it was the only way I could think of to get all the sex in in ten pages.

I just didn’t have room for all the other stuff you have to have in a good romance sex scene: setting, context within the relationship arc (did they just have a fight? is this their wedding night?), what they’re both wearing and doing and feeling and thinking, action and reaction, plot movement, character growth, oh lordy you need all that and more.  Plus good sex. This is why all that mushy genre romance is so damned hard to write.

So I thought, I can imply 90% of all that if I just do the dialogue, right? If I’m good.

Read it, please, and let me know if I’m that good.

Dezyrah’s Talk Dirty To Me
by Jennifer Stevenson

Dezyrah’s Talk Dirty To Me, How can I help you honey?
Um, is, is this Dezyrah?
Nobody but, honey.
Hi, uh, my name is Wayne, and I’d like to, to….
Spit it out, loverboy. You shy? This your first time with Dezyrah?
It’s my first time with any pho—I mean, yeah.
Good! I mean, I want to be your first, Wayne. I want to set the standard…high for you.
Thank you. I guess.
You sound very sexy, Wayne. I can tell we’re going to have a good time. Now give me your big, loong credit card number and we’ll start rocking.
Um, okay. Uh, Discover Card, expires June 2010, 1212-3434-5656-0000.
I do love a man who ends it with lots of Ooohs. And what do you know, Wayne? Your credit checks out hot! We can talk all night if you want.
That’s nice. I mean, I like your voice, Dezyrah. You sound sort of familiar and homey…and sexy.
I’m so glad to hear it. Now tell me what you like. For the next ten minute minimum, Dezyrah belongs to you.
Um, well. Uh.
Y-e-e-s?
Uh.
Shy, hm? Okay, let’s do a little intake. Costs another dollar but you’ll be glad we did.
Intake?
Tell me about the best time you ever had, ever, Wayne. Who you were with, what truck you were driving—
How did you know I have a truck?
Oops. Doesn’t every macho guy have a truck, loverboy?
Actually I was on my bike.
On your bike.
Yeah. I met this incredible waitress and, but, like, no way I was doing it on my Harley, and my buddy lent me his Chevy.
Oh. Whew. For a minute there I thought you were going to tell me you were on your ten speed. You sound like an early developer, Wayne.
Do I?
I bet you were a demon at spin-the-bottle.
I was. I mean, was I? I guess.
Wayne, I don’t want to make this hard for you—well, I do, but in the best way. But Dezyrah’s Talk Dirty To Me has a kind of thing about guys who won’t meet her halfway, talkwise, know what I mean? I mean, dirty talk is my specialty. Dezyrah talks dirty, and then you have to talk back.
Funny, my wife used to complain about that. We’re not divorced. Separated. That is, I’m sort of single.
Whatever, honey. You want to just sit there and breathe heavy, I can give you a referral to a girlfriend of mine, very discreet, you don’t even say your credit card number, just beep it right into the phone. Want her number?
Nno—no, thanks. I mean, you got a heavy-duty referral from my buddy—
The one with the Chevy Bonneville?
That’s the one. He said you were the greatest.
That’s sweet of him. I’ll be sure to give him a discount next time. But if you don’t feel good about this—
No! I’m—well, I like your voice, Dezyrah. You’ve got me—I mean, I’m feeling sort of up for it.
That’s what I like to hear! Oh, Wayne, talk dirty to me!
Um.
C’mon, you had a great start there. How have I got you feeling? Are you hangin’ loose, or are you a little…stiff?
I’m very stiff, if you must know.
I must. Oh, I must! I wish I could see how stiff you are! We’ll climb into the back of your buddy’s 68 Bonneville and do naughty, naughty things. Shall I tell you how you’re making me feel?
Uh, if you have to.
Wayne, you’re new to this, aren’t you?
Dezyrah, I don’t know if this is a good idea. Me talking back.
Oh, come on. You said you didn’t want to beep for my girlfriend.
I’m just no good at it. My wife walked out on me because I wouldn’t talk during sex.
Are you sure that’s all it was?
Well, I guess I said she was kind of pudgy.
Did you.
I mean it was just a remark. I mean, she is. You know, a little chubby. Not much of a turn-on.
So you’re trying phone sex. Very sensible, Wayne. When a man is very, very sensitive to the way a girl looks, it’s probably best not to look. You can’t let the weasel die in his briefcase when you look at her and realize she’s a little—what are you laughing at?
Nothing, nothing. I guess it was kind of a two-way street. I don’t happen to get turned on by fat girls, and she don’t like it if a guy doesn’t blather all the time while he’s doing it.
Mmmm, you know, Wayne, I think you came to the right place after all.
Why’s that?
A lot of girls—I mean, really hot waitresses and them—like guys to talk during sex. I see myself as kind of a therapist. Stick it out with me tonight. I can coach you. So you can hang onto the next waitress a little longer.
Oh gosh. Aw jeez, I suppose that’s true. They all like that stuff?
Trust me.
Do you think I can learn enough?
Honey, every one of my customers learns enough. I see to it. If their wives only knew about me, they’d thank me. It’s my job and my passion.
Never mind my wife. Let’s talk about your passion.
Oh, yes, let’s! Now where were we? I think we were getting into the back of a powder-blue 68 Chevy Bonneville—were we a little drunk?
We were. Not too much, mind you.
Of course not. It was the best time ever. What made it so good for you?
Oh, boy, everything. She was wearing—
I was wearing. I’ll be her for you tonight, Wayne. Only better.
You were wearing a skimpy sequinned bra thing and this skirt that had to be ten inches long.
If that.
Yeah, if that. And your skin was incredible. And your legs were great. And you had to kneel down to crawl into the back seat and I could see right up to your—your pantyhose.
Was that really all you could see? No euphemisms tonight, Wayne. Not with me.
Well—okay, well, I could see you were, well, a natural blonde. I thought they had panties in pantyhose. Boy was I surprised!
It’s those teeny skirts. Real underwear shows a line.
Is that it? Well it blew my mind. I remember I wondered if you did this with all the guys, or what.
No, Wayne, it was just you. I went without panties for the job, but I crawled into that Chevy with you. You made me tingle, Wayne. The way you looked at me when you ordered. And you got so red! When I looked in your eyes, my nipples got tight.
Wow! I didn’t know that.
See? There’s something to be said for talking about sex. Shall I tell you what I felt, when you put your hand on my top in the car?
Yeah.
I felt tight all over, and nervous, and my knees didn’t want to go together.
Why not?
‘Cause I was all swollen up and slippery. —Wayne? Still with me?
Yeah. Yeah, I’m with you all right.
Now tell me what you wanted to do when you looked at me in my little black waitress outfit.
Jeez, I wanted to get my hands all over you. I wanted to pull that bra thing down around your waist and see if your tits stuck up like that by themselves, or were you strapped into some kind of high-tech wonderthing. I wanted to see you smile. —Are you sure this is the kind of thing my wife would li—my wife would have liked?
Oh, positive, Wayne! I’m as runny as a hot brie!
Are you really?
Don’t be so skeptical. Yes, really.
You really enjoy this work?
I love it.
I just can’t believe—
—That a woman likes to be talked dirty to? Oh, Wayne!
Gosh, you sounded just like my wife for a second there.
I’m sorry, that was unprofessional of me. But honestly! You ask if I like it! Why do you think I’m Dezyrah’s Talk Dirty To Me? I could take just the heavy breathers like all the other girls, if I wanted more money. But I’m looking for the special man. The one who can talk back. Like you did just now.
Gee.
When I went into this business I made up my mind that I would never settle for less. And I haven’t. I’ve achieved satisfaction for myself with every one of my customers.
Wow. Every one?
Every one. I’m well on my way to it with you, Wayne.
Really? Gosh, I’m sorry, I kind of got us off on a tangent, didn’t I?
That’s all right, Wayne. We’re here to do it right if it takes all night. That’s my slogan.
Catchy.
Isn’t it? And true. And you’ll find, Wayne, when you get out there in the big bad biker bar world again, that every waitress out there will hang on aall night if you can talk dirty.
My wife was an all-nighter.
Was she?
Oh yeah. When we first got married she was an ever-ready bunny, and so was I.
Sounds perfect. What happened?
Oh, honeymoon wore off I guess. I worked too much. My buddy sold me a share in the bar, see.
That guy’s a troublemaker.
And I guess she didn’t like us having all those waitresses running around the joint half-naked. She knew what it led to.
What did it lead to?
Well for one thing it led to me to comparing her figure to those hot little mamas.
Ah. Yes.
Not that she’s really fat. I mean, I shouldn’t have said that.
Probably not.
You know, Dezyrah, this isn’t getting us any further.
No. No, you’re right. Where were we?

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No, that’s not the ending! The rest of this story is available here for just ninety-nine cents!

For more all-dialogue stories by Jennifer Stevenson, visit her page at Amazon. Ten more stories will be released in 2014!

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