Close Too Close (2 page)
Five years ago, the two of us – queer women hunting for erotica that reflected our desires – could only find published queer erotica written in and about the west. Maybe we didn’t know where to look, but to us it felt like there wasn’t enough contemporary erotica that reflected non-western contexts in general or the culture-specificity of our lives in particular. Queer sexual voices and writings have of course always existed but have been shared in more private, intimate settings. Dirty stories have been swapped orally but perhaps not been made available in the public sphere. More recently, things have been changing in terms of the expression of queer sexual lives within the South Asian region. Autonomous zines like
Scripts
2
and
Chay
3
, blogs like Gaysi
4
and Allygator Lover
5
, collectives like Nigah
6
and smaller groups having BDSM-specific conversations, have all been expanding the spaces available to read, write and talk sex. Over the years, we have engaged with these spaces, with feminist movements and queer rights work in India. Editing this anthology is another attempt at foregrounding queer sexual voices by inviting people to share hidden, simmering queer erotic writing.
As queers, many of us definitely want to talk about pleasure, about orgasms, fantasies and earth-shattering sex. We enjoy sex and are not ashamed of it. The rules of normative sexuality don’t apply to us yet (. . . or so we hope) and this often challenges the way sex is usually understood. We confront, redefine, dispute and reclaim what sex is. If we subvert the norm, it frees us and we learn to pleasure ourselves in newer ways. The transgressive nature of queer perspectives and lives lends itself to much diversity, which we hoped the stories in this anthology would reflect. We wanted this anthology to be varied and inclusive of many sexual expressions, and from multiple gender and sexuality viewpoints. In short, we imagined this anthology to be queer and not necessarily only lesbian or gay or bi or trans erotica.
To start the process, we sent out an open call for submissions to queer lists, literary groups and blogs in India and the South Asian diaspora globally. Other than India, we were able to reach out to groups and individuals from Bangladesh, Nepal, Pakistan and Sri Lanka that engage with queer rights, writings and art. We also invited some published authors and artists to contribute to this anthology. And then, we waited with baited breath. As the stories began to trickle in, they exceeded our expectations. The stories we eventually chose expand some of the traditional notions that exist about sex: in private, between two people only and within a relationship. In these pages, you will find sex taken into the public arena – into changing rooms and public transport; sexual games between guests at a party and a threesome; and no-strings-attached sex as well as one night stands that are not tied into a relationship set-up. We did not choose stories simply because they were explicit, but selected ones that capture a range of the emotions that the sexual can elicit. The stories here are sexy, dirty, cheeky, dark, intriguing, sizzling and haunting. We chose certain stories because they complicated the notion of consent. We believe that consent is critical; for us, erotica has consent enmeshed with it. While ‘no means no’ and coercion is out of line, what yes means can be a tricky matter, very subjective and sometimes negotiated in murky ways. Consent cannot be black and white and some stories in this book explore that grey zone in between. Finally, we were delighted to find a graphic story that embellishes the book beautifully, the artist’s strokes depicting thoughts, dreams and pleasure. Given the diversities of queer realities, we cannot claim to have been representative. There are complexities of class, language, genders, sexual acts, age, abilities, subjective experiences, regions and different bodies that cannot be encompassed within one book nor packed into one box. This anthology is peppered with stories that reflect just a slice of our myriad realities.
The coming pages offer our readers a kaleidoscope of lust, yearning and passion. This evocative selection was made possible thanks to our contributors. There is no doubt that many people write erotica, often intensely intimate, sometimes shared with only a lover or kept entirely hidden. Sharing it, whether by reading it or writing it, may expose you or put you under judgement, so it is difficult to disclose. Boldly picking a book of erotica off the shelf, reading erotica openly and talking about it are all powerful acts. We raise a toast to each of you who have engaged with erotica.
Now, gear up for a good read.
Close, Too Close
is going to leave you horny and thrilled, perhaps puzzled or even disturbed, aroused, satiated or craving. It’s erotica with an edge and we hope it inspires you to keep seeking more.
Meenu and Shruti
Bombay 2012
1
‘rigid notions of what it means to be man or woman, how the two should relate and the family unit that should result from such a relationship. All those who dare to think outside the perfect ideal are considered threats to “morality” and to society at large.’
Because I Have A Voice: Queer Politics in India
. Narrain and Bhan (eds). 2005. Yoda Press, pg. 3.
2
SCRIPTS is a zine published at least once a year by LABIA (Lesbians and Bisexuals in Action). It is a vibrant space for multiple conversations of queer/feminist/activist/creative voices.
www.labiacollective.org
3
Having observed in Pakistani society, a disturbing tendency towards fear and shame around issues of sex and sexuality – that is to say, around a normal human interaction – the founders of Chay Magazine feel that sex and sexuality should enter the public discourse.
http://chaymagazine.org
4
Gaysi Family was started to provide a voice and a safe space to desis who identify as LGBT. What began as a simple idea of sharing stories about what it meant to be gay and desi (gaysi!) has evolved into a space full of traffic from around the world.
http://gaysifamily.com
5
One of the first Indian erotic blogs we came across: allygatorlover.blogspot.com. A blog, self-descriptively, about homo-sex!
6
Literally ‘perspective’ in Urdu/Hindi, Nigah begins and furthers conversations, thoughts, debates, diatribes, rants, plays, art, protests, hissy fits and any other form of expression on issues of gender and sexuality. nigahdelhi.blogspot.com
S
truggling with the drawstring on the bag that held my goggles and swimming costume, I walk from the car park to the Club pool, pulled only by the anticipation of my resulting self-righteousness.
The pool buildings glow a little. Low slung and harsh. Fronted by ridiculous Doric columns. Opened 75 years ago for British civil servants. The rules upon rules still hung fast. The membership was still so exclusive that people hardly looked at each other. I follow the deep stench of chlorine as it curls up through the sausage tree fruits. The pool entrance is hidden deep away from the road. I think about wonderful evenings sitting alone on the lawn, watching the bats leap out from the tree with the moon behind. Disturbed fruit, as I walk below.
The changing room attendant takes great interest in forcing me to wear a cap and place my clothes and bag as they should be.
On the bench.
I had complained that my hair was short enough but she insisted. Even I could not argue with her. The cap aches my forehead. Pulls single hairs sadistically and tightens the newly-shaven sides. Makes my forearm hair alert to the Delhi winter morning chill.
The door to the pool clangs open begrudgingly to show hurried solitary swimmers. The morning was always hurried and alien. On Saturday afternoons the children forced more humanity. But pre-work length swimming meant no unnecessary chat with the attendant and no eye contact with other swimmers, allowing me to meditate throughout. Self flagellation before 9 a.m.: it always suited my bad-tempered introversion. The Calvinist changing room with its prison doors, cold concrete and complicated locker arrangements only accentuated my ugly Attica mood. Pulling on my cold still-damp costume appealed to my morning masochism. I can see the others rubbing sleep out of their eyes before stretching goggles tightly over them. Targeted pink rings will be an all-day reminder of our mutual surrender.
I unroll the sticky costume over my body, admiring the tone that these swims have given to my arms. A smooth curve has appeared on the underside of my upper arm, sweeping down to my elbow, new muscles standing proud. My back is now a careful separation of units of strength and I always glance at how my Speedo straps stand taller than my muscles. The material pulls away from my firm skin, denying the lycra a closer fit. As I pull the costume over my nipples, the cool lifts them proud into the black matte costume and I realise that a lack of late-night fucking has left my body angry and edgy with the injustice. She dared to deny me last night.
Entering the water’s tunnel swiftly and neatly, I begin the long smooth underwater stokes to warm up. I ease through the water watching the sunlight begin to sparkle the pool floor. My bubbles of breath catching light at one particular end of the pool. Ducking hard at each end, my forehead tucking down to release the kick from the ball of my foot. Feeling the water bubble through my nostrils and thoughts slipping through them. The rhythm of lengths upon lengths. Thinking of nothing but breath and rolling strokes. I’m starting to enjoy the ache in my arms, knowing that they pull my body, knowing I’m fast and sleek in the water. It takes me a while to notice.
You are swimming breaststroke in front of me, fast but elegant. I slide past you a couple of times smoothly and you keep the same speed as me, steadily slipping your way back and forth. I can make out only a tightly-wound ponytail tied carefully away, making a smooth bump under the rubber cap. I wonder how that hair looks around your shoulders, behind your head as you lie flat on the pillow with eyes closed. But now, below the water, I study your rounded body with intense interest. Purposefully slowing down behind you, I tip to the right and plunge further into front crawl and gaze as your legs part, then come together. Your bum is lean and firm. Your breasts sharply come back to your body. Your stomach is flat. You are fit. There is no ripple in the skin tone. Just large, strong legs tidily sloping into a round bum with a small dimple on either side. I watch your costume ride up as you swim more and more. The elastic edges dig into the darker skin around the top of your thighs, making the dents look blue on your brown skin. Water does strange things to skin tone. Your browner skin looks lightly blue, my paler skin looks yellow. There are goose bumps on the top of your arms as you warm up. Your costume is a cute white polka dot on blue. In the pool it is hard to read the clues of butch and femme, but now I have enough. I’m following a fit, strong, long-haired femme. My long investigation from behind you over these few laps has moved from lazy lusty gazing to active stalking.