The Man had a nice buzz going.
He sat before his laptop sipping the third glass of pinot noir, something he was now in the habit of doing whenever dealing with his fandom. It seemed to smooth over the annoying aspects of some admirers, leaving him feeling calm and serene. He felt comfortable with social media now and had committed no gaffes since The Fiasco on Twitter. He’d updated Facebook sporadically and approved the launch of his own official website. He’d even commandeered a laptop and tweeted for his colleagues during a Twitter Q&A session. His PR people were chuffed. Even the Red-Haired Bloke congratulated him for establishing a solid social media presence so quickly.
He smiled. Nobody knew about his most satisfying presence as Alia. He’d created her as a semi-regular blogger and respected member of the community. Her steady outpouring of short stories had garnered a respectable number of subscribers. Now that she was solidly established, he felt the urge to expand his horizons. The stories were nice, but he worried that his readers might become bored. Alia needed a bit more verve – more edge. Newer, younger fans liked racy and naughty. So he decided to step outside his comfort zone as a writer and treat them to something totally different. It wold be a great experiment. He could do this.
Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward and began to type.
The Man’s foot tapped impatiently as he waited for the laptop to boot. He’d waited all day, not peeking at any of Alia’s email or her blog. Part excited and nervous, he’d prolonged the suspense for as long as he could stand it. Hopefully, his story had been well received. He’d worked so hard on it and felt so delightfully naughty in the process.
He clicked through to Alia’s blog, spotting the story’s title, “The Honey Pots and the Hungry Bandit,” and scrolled down to the comments. Oh, loads of comments! He read eagerly.
He beamed. Yes!
“My favorite line was ‘He struck deep into her, bringing forth a gentle moan with his meaty, galloping, Machiavellian beast into her womanly undiscovered country.’ Clearly this satire is a stinging indictment on the patriarchal perspective on female exploitation. Bravo!”
The Man’s smile tilted. Satire? Okaaay. I’ll take it.
“Oh Alia, this is the funniest porn I’ve ever read. ‘Her breasts slapped him in the face like two giant pendulums as he stormed her glistening pearly gates again and again and again.’ LOL!”
He frowned and sniffed. Porn? Wasn’t this erotica? His research said to be descriptive but not clinical…
“Alia, this parody is priceless! My fave was ‘She guided his throbbing, marauding arrow into her unspoiled forest.’”
He sighed. Okay, maybe I did let Alia get a bit carried away but don’t women like this kind of stuff? Wasn’t there some bodice ripper novel called Sweet Savage something?
“Hey, I haven’t laughed this hard since going back and reading an old copy of Sweet Savage Loving from the 1970’s. Good job!”
Hmm, okay, they liked it 40 years ago.
“Alia, you know the book ‘50 Shades of Grey?’ You should have named this ’50 Shades of Purple Prose.’ Keep up the good work!”
He stared at the screen forlornly. His porn story was a success, but his erotica career died. Maybe he should have researched more? He glanced over at his copy of 50 Shades. The novel was a runaway best seller after all.
Sighing, he picked up the book and began to read.