alright, so i've read a lot of romance novels and today i was inspired to begin holding im conversations in romancespeak. here, for your reading pleasure, are some snippets (as well as something a bit more risque i quickly threw together for an erotic fiction gathering). i heard it from a friend that march 3rd is national romance novel day...perhaps you should grease and flex your writing muscles so that i might have a firm adversary for a sparring match.
pummelled only by the blows of his indifference raining down on her like so many unspoken words, she gathered his silences close to her like a mantle against the rising winds. afterall, wasn't hiding only part of being seen...
was his retreat irrelevant, a storm brewing on distant horizon...a backdrop for some battle fought on a far off land with enemies she knew nothing about? a challenge he faced alone because he let no one in, he was without allies but armored to such an extent it took her breathe away each time she crashed against him. or was this a response to the intensity of the seige she had waiting, an ambush on an unsuspecting heart? one thing was for certain, his air of abstraction thinly masked the mustering of a powerful strength. a strength that had withstood her advances for many moons, shattering her own defenses all while lighting within her a secret longing...the longing to join forces and follow him into the darkening night.
finally, the torrent of her gentle protestations pierced the thick veil of distraction he lingered under. a light of understanding dawned in his eyes like a ray breaking through slowly dispelling clouds. but was it too late he wondered as his softly shining eyes--those icy depths she'd plunged into so many times searching for currents that might lead to warmer waters--traced the outline of her back in the dim glow of the doorway.
words flow from my molten core like the stirrings of desire he sparked each time he placed his quill firmly to the pad. the delicate but insistent scratch of its inked ball sent lightning bolts of recognition through her spine, which carried the electric current of his penned thoughts to that dark and mysterious place deep inside her...that jungled shore where drums still beat an ancient rhythm. a rhythm older than words and yet one he accessed every time he spun that seductive web of language around her. a web that caught her in sticky tendrils where words spun in deadly circles that frenzied the drums until the waters overflowed their banks, wetting her thighs and rendering them as silken and as inescapable as the gossamer strands still clinging to her mind.
i'd begin by running the tip of my tongue along the coast of sweden, starting at the border with finland and slowly licking up to linger at stockholm. repeat. then i'd swirl past oslo and lower my mouth, gently placing my upper lip against the seaward side of norway and taking both countries into a warm moist kiss. my tongue just can't get enough of stockholm. in my excitment i might just engulf the entire peninsula until my lips land firmly at the base, i mean border of norway, sweden and finland.
i think that's how demark is made, but i can't be sure. we don't learn very much about these things in school.