On Wednesday morning Nichole sat down to write. Her computer was on, music playing loudly. She sang along, trying to inspire herself. The first line is always the toughest. It�s so important, because it will seduce the reader into your story. It�s the first kiss in a torrid love affair- or at least what you- both the author and reader alike- hope will be torrid. Isn�t that what every reader wants? To be thrilled? Excited? Enticed?

          So on this Wednesday morning, singing loudly, badly, Nichole sat down to write a love story. A torrid love story with lots of sex to stimulate the reader, and well if she got a little bit stimulated too, that would be even better. So she lay her fingers on the keyboard ready to write that first line that would get this titillating adventure underway. She waited. Nothing came. She sang along to the next song, stretched out in her chair. Still nothing. She checked her email. Nothing inspiring in there, how surprising. Too many distractions. She yanked the internet cable out of her computer, situated herself in the chair again, and lay her hands on the keyboard again, hoping to absorb something from the machine.

         Finally, an idea came. She knew what to do. Inspiration had struck. How did she not think of this before? She got up from her chair and walked into the kitchen. How could she expect to write when her throat was parched and her stomach was grumbling? So she fixed herself a bowl of cereal and a glass of juice, and sat down at her kitchen table to eat breakfast and watch talk shows in her robe.

          After twenty minutes, feeling satisfied, she decided it was time to go back to writing. But first, the bathroom. For how could she write anything if she had to pee? Moments later, she sat back down in her comfy computer chair, and once again, performed her laying on of hands with the keyboard. Having contemplated this whole first line business during her Jerry Springer breakfast, she decided that the first line wasn�t that important after all. Besides, she could always go back and change it later. It was better to just get something down, so she could get to the meat of the story. Nothing good ever happens in the first paragraph anyway, she thought. And so she began to type whatever came into her head.

          This is the first line of my story. Look at that. A first line. It was so easy. Now I must continue. This will be an exciting story that will compel you, the reader, and motivate you to explore my world, as well as your own. I suppose I shouldn�t really tell you that right off the bat. I don�t think I�m actually supposed to talk to you. I�m supposed to be some big ambiguous author standing behind my book. But it is my book after all, and so I will talk to you if I want, and I do want. I want lots of things. I want this book to be good. I want to enjoy writing it as much as I want you to enjoy reading it. I want it to be exciting in both the plot driven way and the sexually thrilling way. I want you to read this book and get so hot and bothered you have to go find your lover and demand mad passionate sex. Or if you are lacking a lover, as many of us seem to be these days, I want you to go to the nearest sex shop and buy yourself a vibrator (for the ladies) or a nice Flesh Light (for the guys. See, I�m not one of those anti-men women writers. I�ve got your back too guys. It won�t just be girly romantic sex in this book. There�ll be some hardcore stuff in there for you too.) And once you�re done doing your business and are feeling satiated and relaxed, I want you to come back to my book, continue on with your reading, and gain something from the non-sex parts. You�ll be free to see things more clearly, once this innate sexual tension has been relieved. Of course, the nature of sexual tension is that it is always building up, so I�ll have to include some sex on a sort of regular basis, so you�ll be motivated to rid yourself of this tension, to better read the rest of my book. Is this my book? Am I writing my book right now, or am I only talking? I�m not sure yet. This will probably all get scrapped anyway, and you�ll never see any of it. But speaking of all this sexual tension, I think I feel some building up. I better go take care of it so that I can clear my head enough to write. Maybe that�s why I�m having such a difficult time. Too much sex building up inside me. I�ll be right back�

          Feeling accomplished at having written almost a full page, Nichole got up from the computer, and walked over to the second drawer in her nightstand. Opening it revealed many toys. It seems Nichole had been to the local sex shop more than a few times. Pondering her choices, she plucked a green sparkly vibrator from the mix, along with her trusty bottle of lube. This vibrator most closely resembled a cactus. She was pleased that it did not look like a penis. All those fake veins did nothing for her pleasure, and they only made the toy cost more. Staring at a plastic penis replica only served to remind her that there was no live penis around, and so she was took joy in the fact that her favorite vibrator looked like a sparkly cactus.

         Shedding her robe on the floor, she pulled the curtains closed, and settled comfortable on the bed.

neb 11/08/04