A literary orgasm

I’ve written these many times. One of the reasons I like my genre is that I can.  Also?  You would be amazed just what words can do, if they are arranged on a page in just the right order.  I’ve been working on some stories of late that are depictions of male and female sexuality, from many different angles.

My latest was “Pink Suede” and I drew a male having one.   Also I wrote it from a male POV, in first.  Each one of these shoe stories has a different motif going on.  Or different music to set the mood for the era.  Pink Suede is set in a small town in the 1960’s — an era of innocence and what I wanted to do in the piece was look at the Madonna/Whore motif via my female character Candy Alabama.

I’ve been getting critical feedback on these tales — this morning I was compared to William Faulkner, which was a compliment of the highest order possible to me.  Whew.

I wanted to set the mood with this sound:

Here is the opening:

I don’t think I’ve ever loved anyone as much as I loved Candy Alabama.  That’s the way it goes when you’re seventeen, I guess.  That was the first summer I ever saw her and she looked like an angel with that silver-blond hair falling to her shoulders and that pale grey-blue in her starry eyes.  Some guys have all the luck.  I wasn’t one of them.

Candy had that wiggle in her walk, and that giggle in her talk that made all the boys on Main Street drop to a standstill when she walked past us —  heading into O’Henry’s five and dime for one of those peach soda floats the jerk (well I like to think of Lester as a jerk) made for her.  He’d look at her and you could see the stars circling in his eyes.  Soda jerks.  I’d watch him trying to peek down her summer dress right into that cleavage sometimes.

Lester Smithers.  I think I was so jealous of him in those years I didn’t know what to do with myself.  He’s the one who got Candy.  Out of all of us.  It happened the following summer when the circus came to town and Candy swore that she was going to run away with it and never come back to this little burg ever again.

“I’m going to Hollywood, Tim.”

“What makes you think you can?”

“A girl’s gotta do what she has to do, Tim.”

“Don’t talk like that, Candy.”

She was standing out front of Lemonheimer’s department store looking at those pink suede shoes he had in the window.  The wind was blowing the thin cotton of her dress up and every so often I could see her hand smooth the fabric down, but she wasn’t in too big of a hurry.  She knew all the boys were watching.  She knew that if she bent over just right every single boy on Main would do anything for Candy Alabama.

I’ve made some art direction storyboards over at Pinterest for these tales I’m doing.  I can’t decide whether to release them as stand-alone tales or not.  Each one has such a very different flavor, but Pink is very special because it’s about that love you can have for the first beautiful girl you ever fell for…

I’m beginning to release short stories for 99 cents and you can find a few by searching Apple, Kobo, Amazon or Barnes & Noble for Valentine Bonnaire.  My book below — “Gardenias” is in there as well.  Probably the most beautiful orgasm I ever wrote is in the story “Man in the Moon.”  I write heterosexual sexuality.

The character of Lester is driving a Caddy like this:

1959 Cadillac Convertible

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