FOUR HUNDRED!!

400 is a big number. If I stood in front of a crowd of four hundred, I might be struck mute from the nerves. If I met one person everyday, it would take me more than a year to reach 400. If I had a dollar for each of those 400 people… well, that doesn't go as far as it used to, but you get the point.

The real point, however, is how sincerely and exceedingly grateful I am to all of you FOUR HUNDRED subscribers. I started writing erotic fiction several years ago as an exercise to improve my writing in general. I figured if I could raise your heartbeat and elicit your arousal — even just a little — with the words I write, then perhaps I could write anything. I never truly imagined there would be anyone interested in my stories… let alone 400 Substack subscribers!

My imagination runs rampant with magic and futurism, beauty and sex, love and heartbreak. Ever since that first night, after a college party when I kissed my first boy, I have loved the thrill of sexual self-discovery. The party was mine, the boy… not mine. But he stayed to clean afterward, and as the minutes passed in those early morning hours, the stolen glances mounted, multiplied. The tension built, the banter was flirty, cheeky and trepidatious. The glint in his brown eyes shone with the glow of the moon as we took a break, staring out my dorm window.

And then our fingers touched as we leaned against the sill. He didn't remove his hand. I didn't remove mine. Neither of us looked at each other as the electromagnetism of our overflowing attraction pulled our hands into a delicately laced grip. I felt his desire for me wash away my nerves. Despite never having done this before, I felt the lightning strike of understanding smite my soul. 

Understanding of myself and what I wanted. Understanding of what freedom to explore his body might feel like. Understanding that, for the first time, the same person who I felt attracted to in that moment, also desired me. Understanding — as we finally turned to face each other and hungrily join our lips — that this was right, and that I would never be the same.

He was tender that night. I was not. My years of pent up sexual energy burst forward and covered his body with kisses, caresses and as many fumbling attempts at physical affection as I could muster. Much like it did for the character Danny in my series “The Bachelor Weekend Deal,” the experience felt uncannily correct, green as I was at it. The feel of his muscles in my palm, the rough way he grabbed me and moved my body, the gritty feel of his five o'clock shadow on my lips and cheeks, the look of ecstasy on his face as I brought him awkwardly to release. It all felt like the last brick falling into place.

I've had many more firsts since then, many more opportunities to feed the Ares and the Ganymede spirits swirling inside me. I leaned into my new-found identity, pedal to the metal, and learned to understand that it had been my truth all along.

So now, dear readers, I stand (metaphorically) before you to present myself, through fiction, dialog, and entertainment, for your consideration. So far, 400 of you out there have signed up for more. And I couldn't be more grateful. I will endeavor to keep you coming 😉 for more.

And as a final treat, I had set 400 as my goal for when I might open up my chat. Be sure to look out for my first hello over there tonight!

THANK YOU ALL! And here's to another 400!