So I did it - I was the Literary Guest at a local sex toy/lingerie store, etc.'s Erotic Bliss pARTy. What an evening it was! The small space was crammed full of an artsy-looking crowd (my favorite kind of folks!) and the event began with a mix and mingle while a woman in one corner painted a nearly nude male model's body with beautiful designs. In another corner, a young woman was doing tarot card readings. There was a very pregnant lady sitting on a stool selling her miniature vegan brownies and cupcakes decorated with breasts or penises.
I told myself I was just going to read the passage I'd chosen from Getting Even with Warren and get it over with (which I had heavily rehearsed with emotion, per Jina and practiced just saying the words loudly and clearly, per Brenda). I knew it was a friendly crowd - several people had even said so. That helped. It helped, too, that my awesome hubby was there, standing in the background giving me a you-can-do-this look.
And I read the scene -- a woman giving a man head while he drove. (But don't worry -- he's parked before his big moment;-) I didn't stumble or stutter or otherwise embarrass myself. People laughed at the appropriate moments. I finished, the guests clapped and I drew a relieved sigh. Then I sold a few books and watched the last act - a couple who fingerpaint sensual portraits on a huge canvas. Quite amazing to watch.
Then I mingled, had my fortune told by the tarot card reader and chatted with a few party guests. I spent a bit of time talking and joking with a couple who were as friendly as could be. When I mentioned that my husband was there, the couple exchanged glances. And this sophisticated erotic romance author was totally clueless about what was going on -- until the woman said she'd hoped we could have done a threesome.
You could have knocked me over with a feather. Um ... hello? I was in a place where they give classes on "The Oral Arts," "Pole Dancing" and "Threesomes and More." I think I should have paid a little more attention to what was really going on. I'd stepped out of my suburban life and into one of my stories!
All in all, it was a fun night. Three different men asked my husband if he was a cop (yes - he does look the part to the nth degree and yes - he is in law enforcement). His response - "I'm Miss Daniels' driver and bodyguard." Gotta love him.
So now that I've done this feat that sounded so terrifying, I know it won't be so scary next time. But if there is a next time, I hope I'll wear my intuitive hat so my jaw doesn't drop if I have a similar experience.
A writer buddy commented when I told her about my evening - "There's got to be a story in there somewhere." Isn't there always?