‘That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve done all the research, remember? And I teach English now – I know this stuff. After all, it was Shakespeare himself that asked that well-known question, “What’s in a name?”’
‘I think his whole point was that the name didn’t matter,’ points out Nick.
I ignore him. The written word is my domain now.
‘No – I need a perfect name that will convey both the provocative and enlightening nature of my book,’ I tell him. ‘I’ll keep thinking about it. The right name will come to me when I’m relaxed and not trying too hard.’
Chapter 26
The kids are all safely at school, Dogger has been out for a walk and I am sitting at the kitchen table, my laptop open before me and my manuscript on the screen. I have decided that tonight, when Nick gets back from work, I am going to run him a hot bath, get him a cold beer and let him read my story so far. He’s been on at me for weeks and having talked to Cassie about it last weekend, I feel like I could do with some feedback. And there’s nobody that I trust more than Nick to tell me the truth.
I scroll down the screen and read the end of the chapter that I wrote the other day.
The more that Bella Rose mulled over the situation, the more confused she became. If only Daxx wasn’t so utterly gorgeous, she told herself as she skipped through the paddock. [Note: what time of year is it? Would the paddock be muddy, in which case she may not be skipping.] He was clearly damaged goods, and Bella Rose wasn’t the kind of insecure, desperate female who thought that she was only good enough to attract the attention of messed-up men. But the sight of his rippled six-pack was enough to make her brain splinter into one thousand pieces [note: rethink this phrase – a splintered brain is possibly not massively sexy] and she found it hard to think straight when she was in his presence. She knew that the things he was suggesting were wrong – but a man like Daxx made wrong seem so right.
Her mind was made up. Tonight, when everyone else was out at the annual rodeo and the two of them were alone, she would show him exactly what she was capable of. And may the Lord have mercy on her soul …
Cassie said to me the other day that I should write Bella Rose as the woman that I want her to be. She told me to give her some balls; but I don’t think Cassie was quite right about that. Bella Rose has got something way more powerful than balls. It’s about time that I unleashed her inner diva.
Taking a deep breath and reminding myself that it’s only words, I lean closer to the laptop and write the next chapter. The climax that I have been building up to, as it were, where Daxx and Bella Rose finally come together and join in blissful union. I write things the like of which I would never before have dreamt of committing to paper and by two o’clock, when I finally come up for air, I have surprised even myself with the direction that the story has taken.
It is time. I am ready to share this with Nick.
*
I am more nervous than I thought I would be. Once the kids are home, I cook them an early supper and then bribe them with chocolate to watch a film together in the living room. Nick gets home just after six o’clock and I am ready and waiting.
‘Good day?’ I ask, greeting him in the hallway. ‘Can I get you anything? A cup of tea? A beer?’
He stares at me, suspicion etched across his face. ‘It’s the car, isn’t it? You’ve crashed it into something again.’
I smile reassuringly at him. ‘The car is fine, as are the children and the house and the dog. Everything is fine. More than fine, in fact. Shall I run you a hot bath?’
Nick kicks off his shoes and walks across to me, keeping his eyes on mine. ‘Something’s up, though, isn’t it? I can tell.’
‘You are so negative,’ I tell him, leading him up the stairs. ‘You might want to work on that.’ We head into the bathroom and I turn on the hot tap. ‘I’m going to get you a beer and then I’ll be back up.’
‘Did you get much writing done today?’ he calls, as I reach the door. ‘Is that why you’re in a funny mood?’
I hesitate. Now the moment is actually here I’m suddenly doubting my decision. What if he hates it? What if he says that I can’t write for toffee and that I’m a big, fat fraud? Or worse – what if he feels like he has to say it’s good, but he actually feels sorry for me and my deluded attempts at being an author?
‘Do you want to read it?’ I whisper, barely loud enough to hear my own voice.
Nick hears me anyway and leaps across the bathroom to sweep me up in a hug. ‘I’d love to, Hannah! Do you know how bloody frustrating it is to have a wife who’s writing porn and not knowing what kind of kink her fevered imagination is conjuring up?’
He pulls me in for a big squeeze and when he releases me, the beam across his face is akin to his having won the lottery.
‘It’s erotica, not porn,’ I say for the billionth time. ‘And promise that you aren’t going to judge me.’
‘Absolutely no judging,’ Nick swears, pressing his hand against his heart. ‘I’m proud of you already, Hannah, I really am.’
I smile up at him. ‘Okay, well I already downloaded it or uploaded it or whatever. It’s on your e-reader.’
‘What’s it called, then?’ asks Nick, unbuttoning his shirt.
‘More Than Sex,’ I tell him, keeping my voice low so that the kids don’t hear. ‘It’s called More Than Sex. That’s the working title, anyway. I’m deliberating whether having the actual word sex on the front cover might be a bit off-putting to the reader.’
‘Well it sounds promising.’ I can hear the excitement in my husband’s voice.
‘Don’t expect too much,’ I warn him. ‘It’s only a first draft, remember? And it isn’t even finished yet. I just need you to tell me if it feels like a real book. Does it make sense? Do you care about the characters? Is it utterly rubbish and terrible and a waste of time?’
And then I head downstairs to the kitchen where I pour myself a generous glass of wine and try not to feel like I’ve just made myself more vulnerable than I have ever been before.
*
I give Nick twenty minutes before heading back with his beer. When I walk into the bathroom he is submerged beneath the bubbles, his e-reader held high. He barely glances at the beer when I put it on the chair next to him, which I feel is a good sign.
‘Where are you up to?’ I ask. ‘What do you think so far?’
‘Daxx just yelled at Bella Rose for recklessly entering a bareback bronco competition,’ he answers. ‘And Bella Rose is screaming at him and saying that she’s been riding bareback forever and that he doesn’t own her. To which Daxx is replying that if he did own her, she wouldn’t be quite as feral as she clearly is. And then she tells Daxx that she’ll show him what real feral looks like if he doesn’t start putting the toilet seat down when he’s finished having a wee.’
‘Ooh, I like that bit,’ I say, perching on the side of the bath. ‘Have you read the part where Bella Rose catches Daxx making a beef pie for the old man who lives in a neighbouring ranch? Because that’s quite a pivotal scene – it shows a softer side to him and makes him more appealing.’
‘Hmmm.’ Nick keeps reading.
‘Do you like Bella Rose? I can’t decide if she’s kick-ass or annoying or maybe a bit of both. I mean, if I met her in real life then I think that she might be quite a good laugh, but it’d be good to hear what you think. You know, from a male perspective.’
‘Hannah. Stop talking.’ Nick finally looks up. ‘My male perspective cannot think about anything when you’re asking me a thousand questions. Just let me read it.’
Chastened, I tiptoe out of the bathroom and sit on our bed, glass of wine in hand. I pick up the book I started reading a few weeks ago from the bedside table, but it’s impossible; I can’t focus on anything other than the fact that Nick is reading my words. I strain my ears, desperate to pick up on what he’s thinking, but the only sound coming from the bathroom is the occasional splash of water.
Eventually I grow bored wit
h waiting.
‘I’m going downstairs!’ I yell to Nick. ‘Are you going to be in there much longer?’
‘I’ve nearly finished it!’ he calls back. ‘Give me another twenty minutes and I’ll be with you.’
*
It’s actually more like an hour before Nick appears in the kitchen. I’m halfway through the bottle of wine and supper is being delivered courtesy of the local Indian takeaway. I am far too tense to even consider doing any cooking.
‘Are we eating anything tonight?’ asks Nick, glancing around the empty kitchen. ‘I’m starving. And is there any of that left for me?’ He sits down opposite me at the table and eyes the bottle of wine. ‘Crikey, Hannah! It’s only Thursday, you know! What happened to not drinking on a school night?’
‘It’s called Dutch courage,’ I tell him, pushing the bottle across. ‘And food is on the way. Now are you going to tell me what you think about my book or not?’
Nick grins and salutes me with his now full glass. ‘I think it’s great!’
I feel all the air whoosh out of my lungs, where I’ve obviously been keeping it for the last ninety minutes. ‘Are you serious? Do you really think it’s okay? Does it sound like a real book?’
He nods and takes a sip of wine. ‘You’ve got a really good way with words,’ he tells me. ‘I could totally see why Daxx likes Bella Rose and I was wrong about Wyoming. You made me believe that I was actually there on that ranch.’
I feel myself swell with pride. ‘I’ve done loads of research online about what life is like there. For example, did you know that Wyoming is the tenth largest state in America but the second least densely populated? And it’s very dry – most of the state gets less than ten inches of rainfall a year.’
‘Yes, I read that in your book,’ Nick tells me. ‘It was surprisingly informative.’
‘I think it’s important to be realistic when you’re writing,’ I say, leaning back in my chair. ‘I hate it when you’re in the middle of a story and the author gets something wrong and it jolts you out of the action. It’s totally frustrating.’
Nick puts his glass down and puts his hand on the table. ‘I don’t think there’s any risk of your book not being factually accurate,’ he says. ‘Parts of it felt like reading a Wikipedia entry. In a good way.’
The doorbell rings and he stands up, scanning the room for his wallet before heading out into the hall. I light the candles that we keep on the table but rarely ever bother to use, and when he comes back in, we decant the delicious-smelling curry onto plates and settle back down.
‘This is lovely,’ I say. ‘We should have more nights like this. So what was your favourite bit of the book? And what do you think should happen next?’
Nick thinks for a moment. ‘I liked it when you were building tension between the characters. I thought you did that really well – it kept me wanting to read on, wondering if they were ever going to actually get it together.’
I smile. I don’t know why I was so worried about showing my work to him.
‘Yep,’ he continues. ‘There really is a whole load of tension in More Than Sex, that’s for sure.’
‘Tension is the key to good writing,’ I confirm. ‘I read that in an online article about how to write a bestselling novel.’
‘Mmmmm,’ mumbles Nick through a mouthful of rice. ‘I just wonder if, maybe, the tension needs to actually lead somewhere? Do you want to share some of this naan bread?’
I put down my fork and stare at him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘This naan bread. Do you want some?’ He points to the flatbread in front of me but I am not interested in baked products right now.
‘No, Nick. I mean, what do you mean about the tension needing to lead to something? Are you saying that my story doesn’t go anywhere? Are you saying that my plotline is static?’
‘Not at all.’ Nick rams more food in his mouth, looking like he’s seriously regretting having spoken.
‘So what are you saying?’ I push my plate away. Curry can wait. ‘You can’t just throw a comment like that out there and then pretend you didn’t say it. That’s not how constructive feedback works, you know?’
‘Okay.’ Nick puts down his cutlery and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘I was just wondering if maybe, in a book that is supposed to be pornographic, it might be reasonable to assume that the characters would have actually done something by now.’
‘It’s not porn!’ I howl. ‘How many times do I have to tell you?’
‘Fine. Erotic fiction or romance or whatever it is that you want to call it.’ Nick leans towards me and fixes me with a kind look. ‘Maybe it’s me, Hannah. Perhaps I’ve got the wrong end of the stick about what it is that you’re trying to do here.’
Trying? What it is that I’m trying to do? I have a brief, irrational desire to throw the Peshwari naan at his head.
‘Help me out. If I ask you to give me the defining characteristics of porn—’ He sees my face and hurries to correct himself. ‘Sorry, erotic fiction. If I ask you to describe what erotic fiction is supposed to be, then what would you say?’
I move my hand away from the naan bread. ‘It focuses on the relationship between people,’ I say. ‘It’s about how those people feel and the journey that they take together.’
Nick nods. ‘Okay. But surely that describes regular fiction too. What makes an erotic story erotic?’
‘Sex,’ I tell him. ‘Obviously.’
‘Obviously,’ Nick agrees, picking up his wine glass. ‘And that’s kind of where I’m going with this, Hannah.’
I am starting to regret my decision to show Nick my book. I hadn’t given enough thought to the fact that he clearly has no clue about this genre. He doesn’t know about the complexities of writing good erotica.
‘There’s no sex in your book.’ Nick blurts it out and then starts to laugh. ‘You’ve written twenty thousand words and they haven’t had sex yet!’
I stare at him in disbelief.
‘What are you on about? Did you even read the part where she’s dancing in the bar and he’s drinking moonshine out of a jam jar and watching her and she flicks her hair suggestively and he feels a longing that he can’t ignore? Or the bit when she gets all mad because he’s acting like a chauvinist pig but then she inexplicably wants to kiss him but she’s so tiny and he’s all manly and tall and so she has to stand on a stool to reach his full, sensuous lips? Or the last chapter where they’re in the paddock and Bella Rose says that really interesting thing about sugar beets being one of the main crops that are grown in Wyoming and Daxx quivers and then she puts her hands on his chest and oh—’
I stop, reliving the scene in my head.
‘Exactly,’ says Nick, wiping his eyes. ‘They never actually have sex.’
I glare at him and he holds his hands up in self-defence. ‘It’s not a criticism, Hannah. Don’t go shooting the messenger. I just thought it was probably worth pointing out that you’ve somehow, quite brilliantly, managed to write a porn book where nobody ever gets it on!’
‘Oh shit.’ I drop my head in my hands. ‘It’s terrible, isn’t it?’
Nick is out of his chair in an instant. ‘No, sweetheart! It’s actually really good. It just might need a bit of raunching up if you’re intending on selling it as erotica.’ He crouches down beside me and gathers my hands in his. I remind myself that I am very, very lucky to have such a supportive husband. ‘If you want to avoid falling foul of the Trade Descriptions Act, that is!’
I push him away and stand up.
‘It’s only a first draft,’ I say, in as haughty a tone as I can muster. ‘And it isn’t even finished yet. There’s plenty of time for “raunching it up”, as you so eloquently put it.’
Nick nods and returns to his seat. ‘And I’m sure you’ll do a fantastic job,’ he assures me. ‘Maybe you should practise now. What’s that phrase you’re always saying to the kids – “if you can say it then you can write it”? Come on then, give me a taster of the th
ings to come!’
‘Not a chance.’ I tear off a piece of naan and take a bite. ‘I know your game. You’ll only laugh at me.’
‘I won’t!’ Nick protests. ‘I promise that I will maintain a straight face while you elaborate on the details of Daxx’s throbbing member.’
‘Ha!’ I point my finger at him. ‘That shows what you know! Throbbing members are totally last decade. No erotic writer worth their salt would use a description like that.’
‘So what would you say?’ asks Nick, looking genuinely curious. ‘Because, no offence, darling – but you’re not exactly well versed in dirty talk, are you?’
‘I might be.’ I raise my eyebrows in a way that I hope looks alluring and a little mysterious. ‘I might be an excellent dirty talker. Maybe I’m just not talking dirty to you.’
Nick grins. ‘Prove it. How would you describe Daxx in his hour of passion?’
He’s annoying me now, but I can’t back down; and part of me knows that he’s maybe got a point. If I’m going to make a success of this book then I’m going to have to overcome my aversion to writing about actual sex.
‘Daxx gazed at Bella Rose,’ I start, narrowing my eyes at Nick and daring him to laugh. ‘And the more he gazed at her, the more aroused he became. And the more aroused he became, the more his, his—’
I swallow and clench my fists under the table. I am a grown-ass woman. I am not embarrassed by sex or body parts. I am here in my own kitchen, with my husband. It is safe and there is nothing to be ashamed about.
‘The more aroused that Daxx became, the more his Daxx Junior twitched.’
I blurt out the words and then slurp the last drops of my wine.
Across the table, Nick blinks at me in confusion.
‘Did you just say his “Daxx Junior”?’ he whispers, as if the very act of speaking the words is causing him pain.
Ha! Who’s the prude now, oh darling husband?
I make a valiant attempt to bat my eyelashes. ‘I told you that I could do sexy.’
Nick gulps. ‘I am indeed blessed among men,’ he says. ‘You’re going to make your fortune, with gems like that.’
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