Yesterday I wrote what I expect will be the last sentence of the book Crosscurrents. No, it’s not finished. There is much left to do.
But it’s very strange that this book evolved from an erotic novel into a thriller, or a mystery, and a love story. That was not what I intended at all!
At the end of Exposed, I felt so self-contained. Doing what I wanted, going where I wanted, having my adventures when I wanted. I like sex and occasionally in an erotic setting with multiple partners. I didn’t need to justify myself, nor compromise, and certainly not apologize.
In the writing of Crosscurrents, I discovered someone. I’m not going to tell you who or how, but I can say that as a result, some things have… changed. How they’ve changed, or if the changes are temporary or permanent, remains to be seen.
I think sex in many of its expressions is wonderful, if the expectations are shared. Sex doesn’t need to be about love, nor commitment, nor creation of children. I accept the gifts Biology has given us, and appreciate them to their fullest.
But still… biology is not well-contained. The mind, or heart if you will, can become deeply impacted by the biology of sex, by someone whose skin we crave to touch, whose mouth we want to merge with our own, whose fingertips cause us to ache, and oddly enough, whom we want to wake next to in the morning after a night of feeling their body next to ours.
Making love with someone who tells us to “open your eyes” as we or they are about to orgasm, and have that moment shared through the windows of the soul with a connection that goes far beyond words, is as erotic and even more fulfilling than all the random touching there is in the world. We are touched more deeply, and in places even more secret.
Crosscurrents has become a different book than I expected it to be. And I may have changed in the process of writing it.