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Chapter Six

Two days later, I still can't believe I did something so brazen as pleasure Lionel in the middle of the kitchen.

Of course someone walked in on us. We weren't even trying to be subtle.

The fact that I hadn't been able to see who it was at the time, and never looked up as I dashed back to the seclusion of my room, has turned whoever it was into a stranger.

Obviously I don't really know any of my new roommates, so they're all strangers, but this was a faceless one.

A random man watching my "boyfriend" shove his cock as deep down my throat as he could get it.

Every time I think about it too long, I start getting warm and squirming at my desk chair until the temptation is too much and I sprawl on my bed and touch myself as quietly as possible so none of my new boyfriends hears me.

Afterward, I feel like I've done something wrong.

These gamers hired me to take care of their needs, not my own.

I didn't even fully realize I had needs like this.

At least all of these bubbled up, conflicting feelings have been great for my writing.

I've produced more work in these two days than I have in the last few months.

Everything going through my mind, every flicker of emotion and physical sensation that's gone though my body, has ended up on my pages, experienced by a character.

I'm nervous about what my critique group will say about this change in my writing.

I haven't told them I'm switching from writing sweet romance to high-spice.

It's already uncomfortable for me to read and discuss the explicit scenes they've written, and now it's going to be mine.

They'll all know that I've thought about these fantasies.

At least they won't know that I've actually lived them.

Slipping out of the house to come to critique group is the first time I've left my room since the kitchen incident.

That's how I'm thinking about it— the kitchen incident .

I've been surviving in my room on snacks I'd brought from my old apartment.

Writing, masturbating, and snacking on a loop has become my new normal.

Honestly, I'm kind of surprised that none of the gamers barged into my room, or even knocked. They hired me for a job that I'd barely started before I went into hiding. How can I look them in the eye again, though?

That's a problem for later, after critique group.

My train was late, so the other ladies are already chatting at our regular table.

I slide into my normal seat as quietly as possible so as not to interrupt.

I'm just lucky that they let me be part of their group.

We all write slightly different subgenres, and they're all further along in their careers than me.

As in, they're all actually making money.

Critique group always meets during happy hour because a drink or two helps make it a little easier to discuss the sex scenes in their books. I'm going to need at least one or two extra myself today, since my own sex scenes will be on the table.

Maybe literally, one day . There is a table in our kitchen. I wonder if any of the guys has ever considered using it for?—

No , I scold myself. I'm here to focus on work.

The conversation stops as I slide into my seat, everyone's heads swiveling in my direction. "We have to talk about your new pages," says Angela, a small-town romance author.

I snag a menu from the table even though I get the same thing every time. I need a moment before I have to look my critique partners in the eye.

I don't like being called out in this way. Normally the other ladies keep talking for a few minutes, not even acknowledging my arrival. But discussing our work is why we're here, so I force a smile. "I'd like that very much. Thank you."

"Oh, my god! Your pages this week! Am I the only one who needed a minute to take care of themselves after reading that?" Maddie, who writes billionaire romance, fans herself theatrically.

"Do you want to go first?" Sasha pulls out her stack of our weekly writing submissions. There's red ink all over the page. "It's not bad." She pauses. "For a first attempt."

My stomach roils at the sight of all that red ink, but this is why I'm here in this group. To get feedback from authors whose opinions I respect. I want my writing to be the best it can be. These ladies are helping me achieve my dreams. They want the best for me too.

"Ooo, yes. Let's order our drinks, and then I need to talk about these pages." Maddie pulls out her copy of my chapter. There's a few markings in the margins, but nothing terrifying like what Sasha's copy has on it.

"Agreed," says Angela. "Drinks first. I'm going to need them before we get to my new pages. It's been a rough week."

My shoulders relax. I'm so nervous to hear what these ladies think of my new writing.

It's so far from my normal style and I wrote it so fast, I'm not even confident about what's on those pages.

All I know is that every word was inspired by Ethan, Lionel, and whichever stranger watched me choke on cock on the kitchen floor.

The other ladies order cocktails, but I take a house wine.

It's on the happy hour list and the cheapest option, and I'm broke.

I may need to have two today to get through this ordeal.

But people need to read my work at some point in order for me to make it as an author, and there's no sense in me having started down this path of new sex acts if I'm not going to use them as inspiration.

It doesn't take long for our drinks to arrive. Pulling out my own copy of my chapter, I get my pen ready to note down any and all comments my critique partners are ready to dole out.

"Well, I for one would love for the new book boyfriend you're writing to just step out of the pages and take care of me like that.

" Angela laughs and fans herself. "I had to read your chapter twice this week.

The first time I raced through with such enjoyment, I needed a second time to catch the one or two places that could be a little stronger. "

"I'm glad you like him," I say, blushing. "This is my first attempt at spicy writing so any advice you can give would be appreciated."

Angela shows me her copy of my pages and points to the first circled paragraph.

"This section here seems a little redundant—you don't need to describe the layout of the room as the characters change positions.

And this section here," she points to another circle, "was just a bit quick for me.

Even if the characters are rushing through the act, that doesn't mean the writing of the scene should be quick.

We still want to draw the emotions out with more about the inner feelings and thoughts of the FMC. "

"Thank you. That's very helpful." I jot down notes in the margins of my own pages by those sections. I'm so glad Angela is giving me concrete things to improve and not making me feel bad about the change in my writing.

"This is quite different from your normal work," says Sasha with an appraising look as she sips her pink cosmo.

"Yeah." I shift a little under Sasha's gaze and take a large gulp of my wine, but both Angela and Maddie have friendly, open faces, and I remind myself that they're all here to help me succeed.

"I wasn't making much money with the sweet romances, so I thought I would try writing a bit more to market. And readers seem to want the spice."

I don't want to come out and say, Hey, I saw you change up your business strategy and I wanted to do the same . I don't want her to think I'm copying her. That could jeopardize our friendship.

"When I was doing my research for my new genre, I did a spreadsheet with all of the statistical data for each genre so I could find the gap between want and supply.

Did you use my method? Are you subscribed to all of the reports so you can get the monthly updates on all of the analytics?

" Sasha glances over her copy of my chapter, with all the red ink.

"If you're not going to do it properly, there's no sense in even getting feedback on something that won't sell anyway. "

"Umm." I glance to Maddie and Angela, who both roll their eyes at Sasha's comments. "I thought I would just try writing what I already enjoy, just adding more spice for the readers."

I take another sip of my wine. Sasha's comments hurt because not only is she my critique partner, but I see her as a friend too, and I want her to be proud of me.

Yet she's making me feel like I haven't done enough.

I wish I could tell her that I'm doing a lot behind the scenes to get these pages to be so amazing, but I'm not about to tell anyone about my current living arrangement.

"I like that," says Maddie. "If you're enjoying yourself, the reader will sense it and enjoy themselves too. I think that really came through in this chapter."

"I'm just not sure that will be enough," says Sasha. "The research I did showed that I needed to switch from contemporary to romantasy to make a name for myself." Sasha pauses, laying her hand on the table and leaning forward. "I'm only saying this because I want you to succeed."

"And I really appreciate that. I'll look into it more.

" I probably should do that, but dipping my toes into the reality of writing sex is hard enough.

Shifting into a different subgenre at the same time would be too overwhelming.

Instead of relearning just part of my career, I would almost be relearning the entire thing.

Although, while Angela and Maddie do well as authors, Sasha is the most successful of all of us. Maybe I really should do what she says and switch from contemporary to a more specific subgenre.

"You've clearly done some of your research though," says Sasha, almost reluctantly. "Your sex scenes aren't terrible for your first try. And you've never had a boyfriend since I've known you."