Sex Still Spoken Here: An Anthology (23 page)

“You do not have to be good.”

-
Mary
Oliver
(
from
“
Wild
Geese
”)

Eugenia Mills

Bio

Even more than crafting the story itself, Eugenia Mills particularly enjoys the field research. A chef and creator in a variety of areas of design and writing, she’s also proud mother to a young adult daughter. Currently, she divides her time between Canada and Mexico.

Mini-Interview

How did you start writing about sex?
How
does
it
differ
from
non
-
erotic
writing?
The erotic stories I write are all semi-autobiographical. So, first I make a good story, then I put it into words. This is certainly much easier to write than fiction, as the only imagination involved was what took place in the field, as it were! The main struggle with erotic writing, I find, is coming up with descriptive language that is hot, just dirty enough, and flows naturally.

How
is
the
Erotic
Reading
Circle
part
of
your
writing
process?
Discovering the ERC was a revelation. It was a delight to share my writing with others who don’t struggle with the negative reactions and judgements that others may find themselves having to get past before being able to discuss the quality of the writing itself.

Do
you
write
under
your
own
name?
Why
or
why
not?
Do
you
have
any
concerns
about
publishing
erotic
work?
Much as I’d like to write under my own name, the internet allows no room for privacy so I thought it best not to.

What’s
the
inside
scoop
on
your
story?
Names have been changed to protect the privacy of the participants. Otherwise, it’s 99% true.

It
Just Takes Practice

Eugenia Mills

There wasn’t anything particularly hot about her—she was pretty average looking, in fact. Medium height, average body, short brown hair—kind of cute, I guess, but not the type I’d normally go for. There was just something about the way she strode onto the elevator and confronted all the bored faces staring back at her. She grinned, like she was in on a joke that no one else had heard, and there was this kinda sexy cockiness about her attitude. Obviously it did something for me—my hard-on tented up the crotch of my pants. Luckily I was carrying my laptop bag.

I
had
been
running
late
and
had
forgotten
to
put
panties
on
.
I
rarely
wear
dresses
but
my
boss
had
specifically
requested
that
I
“
present
myself
formally
”
for
the
meeting
,
so
I
was
making
my
best
attempt
at
femme
.
It
was
warm
enough
for
late
October
to
not
wear
pantyhose
,
but
I’d
debated
it
for
a
minute
anyway
:
I’d
bought
them
specifically
,
thinking
they
were
probably
required
to
satisfy
the
“
formal
”
criteria
.
Truth
is
though
,
I
would
have
been
yanking
at
them
awkwardly
all
day
long
,
so
instead
I’d
checked
my
calves
for
stubble
,
then
shoved
my
feet
into
my
shoes
and
ran
out
of
the
house
.
In
my
haste
and
indecision
,
I
forgot
to
put
panties
on
.
Now
,
after
sitting
for
two
uncomfortable
hours
in
a
sticky
,
vinyl
-
upholstered
chair
in
the
client’s
boardroom
,
I
can
feel
that
the
warmth
has
separated
my
pussy
hairs
into
damp
,
curling
tendrils
.
I
was
just
thinking
about
this
sensation
as
I
stepped
onto
the
elevator
,
when
a
guy
in
back
caught
my
eye
.
I
met
his
gaze
firmly
—
hoping
to
telepathically
let
him
in
on
my
little
secret
—
then
,
like
everyone
else
,
I
turned
to
face
the
elevator
doors
.

As I followed her out into the street, I wasn’t exactly sure what I planned to do. She was much older than me—was I taking a stupid risk? But as I walked behind her watching the silky fabric slide against her hips and ass with no sign of a panty line, all I could think was that I wanted to get under that dress.

I
can
tell
I
am
being
watched
.
I
throw
my
shoulders
back
;
my
hips
sway
a
little
more
enticingly
for
the
benefit
of
my
audience
.
I
admit
it
—
I’m
a
bit
of
an
exhibitionist
.
I
am
pretty
sure
who
it
is
,
and
cast
a
quick
glance
back
to
confirm
.
Yes
,
it’s
the
guy
from
the
elevator
,
and
he
is
close
behind
…
now
what
?
He
seems
pretty
young
…
I
can’t
quite
say
how
young
from
that
brief
moment
when
I
first
spotted
him
,
but
best
to
keep
walking
.

She has passed the building where I work as concierge. Now what? Do I keep following her? I hesitate and pull my cell phone out of my pocket. Shit—it’s 1:40. I have gone overtime on my lunch break. I glance down the street and see her turn the corner. I guess that’s it. As I get closer to the revolving doors, I can see my boss standing in the lobby. Better get back to work.

I’m
about
to
turn
the
corner
to
where
my
car
is
parked
.
With
another
quick
look
over
my
shoulder
,
I
see
him
turn
into
the
doorway
of
a
building
.
I
pause
,
then
double
back
.

She’s standing outside the window. I check my boss’ status—he’s chatting up a hot condo resident he’s been obsessing about lately. He’ll be distracted for a while. I wave and beckon her in, and she responds with a hint of that same grin I’d noticed earlier. My cock immediately reacts. She approaches the reception desk where I sit with my hard-on now straining at the seams of my pants. I’d love for her to know how hard she’s made me, but instead of being so blatant, I write my name and phone number on a card, and slide it across the counter to her. I have to see you, I say. OK, she replies, and leaves without another word.

Peter
455
-
6737
.
It’s
a
little
after
8pm
and
my
daughter
is
in
bed
asleep
.
I
have
dialed
the
first
6
digits
.
Of
course
he
wants
to
fuck
me
and
I
am
not
only
curious
,
but
also
increasingly
desperate
as
a
single
mom
with
a
small
child
at
home
.
I
press
the
last
digit
:
7
.
He
answers
almost
immediately
.
My
thumb
is
ready
on
the
“
end
call
”
button
,
but
the
tingle
between
my
legs
says
keep
going
.

“I want to taste you.” That is exactly what I want, so I tell her right away. I don’t feel like messing around with chitchat. I want her to know what I want and why I want it. My girlfriend thinks oral sex is disgusting. I can fuck her all I want, missionary style, but I am her first and she is shy. That’s what she says, anyway. I try to explain all this to this strange woman. I am nervous and excited and it all comes out in one long sentence. I tell her that I need to know if there is something I can do to make my girlfriend love it. She tells me her name is Maggie.

Perhaps
giving
him
my
real
name
wasn’t
the
best
idea
,
this
guy
who
claims
he
only
wants
to
test
his
skills
and
pleasure
me
with
his
tongue
and
fingers
.
Nothing
for
himself
!
He
says
his
girlfriend
doesn’t
want
it
;
he
needs
to
know
if
it’s
because
he’s
doing
something
wrong
.
I’d
have
to
analyze
that
,
I
say
.
When
are
you
available
?
He
tells
me
his
work
schedule
—
he
can
get
here
by
10
:
15
almost
any
weeknight
.
Come
Wednesday
,
I
say
,
simply
because
it
is
the
one
night
my
daughter
spends
at
her
father’s
—
and
I
give
him
my
address
.
I
will
wait
for
you
on
the
second
floor
deck
,
I
tell
him
.
I
hear
his
nervous
exhale
through
the
receiver
as
he
replies
,
OK
,
Wednesday
.
And
we
say
goodbye
.