I love crossing lines.
Hi, my name is Rhonda Lee and I’m an erotica writer. One of the things I love most about writing erotica is pushing limits and crossing lines. I’m also a fan of crossing genres.
My first erotica novel, The Duchess, is a historical BDSM novel. It crossed lines, genre and otherwise. I had a lot of fun taking a rather unlikable main character and following her through a series of sexual escapades, it seems other people liked it too.
I don’t think for a moment that I’m alone in enjoying line-crossing. Most readers and writers have an adventurous spirit, they want to know what will happen if you combine this and that, or how far you can really take a concept without going too far. Because going too far is possible. Some lines really aren’t meant to be crossed.
Take, for example, my latest story, The Return of the Horny Dead, which was released from Eternal Press yesterday. It’s all about zombie sex. Yes, zombie sex. I wrote it because I wanted to cross some lines. I love zombies and I love erotica, so I wanted to see if I could effectively combine the two. I think I have, but the whole time I was writing it I was worried about one line I thought shouldn’t be crossed — necrophilia. I was dealing with zombies, so would it be necrophilia for my main character to have sex with one?
In my own mind I decided no, it wouldn’t, but I wasn’t willing to make that choice for everyone, so in The Return of the Horny Dead, in order to stay between the lines of ‘risque’ and ‘yucky’ I made choices. My main character, Steffie, doesn’t actually have sex with the zombie she finds in her garage, but she does get off and he does get one hell of a show.
It’s all about lines. You need to know when to cross them and when to respect them. Sometimes it’s a balancing act, like in The Return of the Horny Dead. That makes it tougher to do, the story trickier to write, but as with anything that takes thought and effort, when you finally get it right, it can be awesome.
I hope that’s the case with this story.
Please enjoy the excerpt and below. In this short teaser the main character, Steffie, is going out to her garage in the middle of a horrible blizzard to see if her cat is hiding out there.
If you like what you read, comment for a chance to win your own .pdf copy of The Return of the Horny Dead. If you’re not sure what to say in your comment, why not share about lines you like to cross, or ones you think are better left alone.
As soon as I opened the door I regretted my decision, but not enough to change my mind. I stepped out, and pulled the door shut behind me with both hands. The wind was fierce – it stole my breath from me, and it took several seconds for me to wrestle it back. I hunched over, making myself as small a target for it as I could, and trudged through the nearly knee-high snow to my garage.
Finally, I made it there. Let me tell you, it was a damn good thing I know my backyard as well as I do, and had lots of landmarks like picnic tables and crab apple trees to use to navigate, or I’d have never managed even that much! But I did, I made it, and much to my surprise, when I got there, the door wasn’t. Really, you didn’t read that wrong – I got to the garage, but the door was missing. Just clean gone. Well, not clean – it was smashed in and when I stepped through it you’ll never believe what I found on the other side – aside from door splinters, I mean. A naked man.
A naked man stood in the middle of my garage. His back was to me, but it was very definitely a man, and a well hung one at that. His legs were slightly apart and I saw his cock dangling between them. He was buff too, but pale, sort of grey-ish actually. I figured that was hardly surprising since he stood in my garage nude in the middle of the worst snowstorm in recent memory.
Now, I’m no idiot – I considered the possibility he could be crazy. I thought about just turning around and walking back to my house, but my conscience got the better of me. If he wasn’t dangerous I couldn’t very well just leave him there to freeze to death, could I? I figured I had to take the chance, or else I’d never be able to look at myself in the mirror again – and I am rather fond of looking at myself in the mirror.
I cleared my throat to get his attention, which is when I realized my garage was better insulated than I thought, because even over the howling of the wind, he heard me. He stiffened up, every muscle in his body suddenly came alert and his head, which had been hanging down as though he were looking at the floor, suddenly jerked up.
“Excuse me.” My voice trembled despite my best efforts to sound strong and in control. “What are you doing in my garage?”
He turned to look at me, not his head – his whole body. When he moved it was in a sort of stiff shuffle, as though he were already half frozen. When at last he faced me, I re-assessed him. My initial impressions had been correct; he was very buff, very well hung and rather grey looking. He was attractive though, or would have been if it weren’t for an immense Y shaped scar across his chest that looked very recent. In fact, it looked so recent I couldn’t be sure, in this weird half light of the garage, that it was a scar at all and not just an incision.
Oh damn, I thought, Buddy’s just wandered away from the hospital – hopefully he’s not a whack job.
“What are you doing in my garage?” I repeated.