Aural Pleasures Revisited: Fond Memories of Filthy Words
When Kristina Lloyd suggested I do a post about the Night of Aural Pleasure readings at the Lock Stock bar for Eroticon 2013, I agreed happily, but only if I could get some of the fabulous writers I’d had the priveledge to read with that night to share a bit of their experience and even titilate us just a tad with a few lines from what you missed if you weren’t there, and what you enjoyed totally if you were. Once again I’d like to thank the lovely and talented Harper Eliot for arranging the whole event, not an easy task, and I sincerely hope that there’ll be lots more such readings and opportunities to rub shoulders with some of my favourite writers in the future.
I thought the whole evening was fun, exciting and really, really entertaining. I was listening to some of my favourite writers sharing the words they’d published and written. Speaking as someone who loves the written and spoken word, I don’t think the pleasure comes much better. The atmosphere was welcoming and supportive and I can’t wait until next year if there’s a chance to repeat the experience.
Below are the opening verses from one of the poems I read (Betty & I) the story of a man who takes a blow-up doll to a swingers’ party.
Betty and I
Me and my blow-up doll: Betty.
She wanted to add a new kink to our lives.
I just went there to get sweaty.
Our relationship was at a low point.
And it had been that way for a bit.
But I still tried to treat her with flowers or clothes.
Or a bicycle puncture repair kit.
Yet for months my Betty had been silent.
And our love life had skidded off track.
I didn’t know if Betty had stopped loving me.
Or was just missing the string from her back.
“I rarely get nervous when I reading now. I have done it often enough to know I am OK at it but on this occasion the nerves really grabbed me. Maybe it was the thought of reading to a room full of very talented writers that left me suddenly feeling very exposed and vulnerable. The moment I took my place in the spot light I would been much happier taking my kit off rather than speaking but luckily for everyone I controlled that urge and they got words instead of naked!”
A snippet of the story I read…. which was titled Hungry Beast.
“The heat of the flogger on my skin and the sound it makes as it connects with my flesh still rings in my ears. If I close my eyes I can feel the grip of the cuffs on my wrists as they hold me in place before him and when I look down I remember seeing my shoes laying there, empty and forgotten for the time being. The room is busy, people are talking and laughing, but even though my eyes see them my ears seems to switch off to the background noise. For me the only sound I can hear is the paddle or crop or whip as it cuts through the air and finds me. I am its intended target, the recipient of its affections and with each touch I learn to fear it less and want it more.”
Excerpt from the poem, Brutal Passion
“Regal dresses and beautiful jewels
Seem dull to me compared to tools
Of a dark and deviant cell
And helpless maids that face a hell”
When I saw Harper Eliot’s stunningly sexy poster for Aural Sex, I sensed this was going to be a great night. Getting a black cab to the venue with Remittance Girl and Janine Ashbless, two writers whose words invariably dazzle me, ramped up my excitement. Over the weekend at Eroticon, I was involved in several conversations about setting up an erotica salon in London, a regular event potentially similar to Rachel Kramer Bussel’s erstwhile In the Flesh reading series. The success of Aural Sex suggests this would be an excellent idea. I’d like it put on record that cocktails and posh frocks ought to be involved!
On the bill at Aural Sex was a mix of readers, some unknown to me, others established authors; and we had a large, appreciative audience. Sitting in a cosy pub with a gin, being regaled by smart, sexy words, ranging from Molly Moore’s dark and sultry public-play vignette to Ashley Lister’s hilarious and poignant poem, Betty, not to mention the pints of troll come from Ms Ashbless, is my idea of a damn good time! I was proud to take to the floor and declare ‘I’m doing anal’ (I was on my second gin by this point). I read the opener of my story in the anthology, Smart Ass, part of an anal erotica ebook series edited by Alison Tyler. The piece begins, ‘So, there he is with his cock in my ass, and I’m biting the pillow, making all sorts of groans. At least, that’s how it looks on the outside.’ You can read the first few pages on Amazon. In short, Aural Sex was a superb evening. We ought to do it more often!
I read from Named and Shamed and polluted the ears of the Aural Pleasure audience with no-holds-barred Troll Bukkake. Could it get any better?
“Still it came … Pints of the stuff. Goddamn – it tasted like cold miso soup.”
I was astounded when I discovered how much more powerful poetry is when it’s performed rather than read silently by me. And I find that to be equally true with erotica. There’s something very intimate and down-to-earth about reading or having erotica read to you out-loud. Add to that the alcoholic beverage of choice and excellent company, and what’s not to like?
Thanks, everyone, for sharing your experiences of the Night of Aural Pleasure. It’s a real treat to have you, and I can hardly wait to be aurally titilated by all of you again!