Context is everything, isn’t it?
A busty blonde heroine with tangled locks, her hair plastered back with sweat and her chest heaving with exertion as she writhes and gasps on the bed, sounds like she’s having a pretty good time. Or maybe she just has a bad cough! Could go either way.
I don’t bring this up entirely idly; I spent the last week or so being about as sick as I’ve ever been. Which isn’t saying much, happily — I’ve been very healthy all my life — but while I wasn’t exactly at death’s door, I was still pretty thoroughly out of commission for two days, and not much use for another three.
And since I am such a healthy person normally, and since I don’t have to deal with this sort of thing often, boy was I ever unprepared for the dent it made in my writing schedule, especially my sexy writing schedule.
Turns out there are kinds of work I can make myself do while my throat is aching and my nose is dripping with snot, and there are kinds I can’t do, and making words come out sexy falls into the latter category.
I just can’t do it. I don’t have to feel super sexy to write or anything — I don’t have special Writing and/or Fuck Me Panties — but there’s apparently a minimum threshold of at least feeling like I might conceivably want sex, at some point, maybe.
Last week, I didn’t. I was too sick to masturbate, which might be my new benchmark for Serious Illness. So not much got written.
The good news is that finally feeling better seems to have come with an accompanying surge of energy — and hormones — so I’m looking forward to a productive week here.
I would say that I’m trembling with anticipation, but that could just as easily be fever. Context, right? She gasped hoarsely…