A recent post by my writing buddy, Heather Massey of The Galaxy Express, got me thinking. Almost every sex scene I’ve written has been preceded by some kind of bathing ritual scene. Why is that, I wonder? So far, my characters have bathed in showers, oceans, bath tubs, mountain lakes, natural hot springs, mud puddles – all before doing the dirty deed. The very thought of writing bloodied, sweaty, or just plain grimy characters making whoopee leaves me kind of icked out. I seem to have some kind of sexual hygiene hangup.
There’s nothing I dislike more in my writing than discovering an inability to overcome my weaknesses. So I hereby swear that I will write a sex scene in which the characters haven’t bathed in weeks. Will it be sexy? That’s the challenge, I guess. I’ve been working on a story where the two main characters have been on the run. They’ve been chased and threatened and haven’t had a minute to breathe, let alone bathe. They’re scared, tired and, incidentally, horny as hell. They shall be sweaty, they shall be grimy, they will be as ripe as an aged cheddar. And when they finally get it on it WILL be sexy.
Then I will take a very long and very hot bubble bath.