Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 116362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 116362 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 582(@200wpm)___ 465(@250wpm)___ 388(@300wpm)
He looks completely taken aback. “Since when?”
I keep grooving and raise my hand slightly. “Jack White fan here.”
He reaches over and turns down the volume button. “Wait, are you trying to change the subject?”
“There is no subject to change. I didn’t masturbate. End of story.”
He laughs. “Fair enough. But I bet you were turned on.”
“Maybe,” I say, turning the volume up again as we take off down the street while I continue to do my silly seat dance.
Soon we’re settled on his patio, our computers and kindles and notes crowding the table along with a growler of fresh home brew from Spinnakers. Sun fills the space, the breeze coming up from the harbor smelling of salt and the faint whiff of diesel fuel. I’m nervous because of what we’re about to embark on but also completely at ease.
“All right, so we still need a pen name,” he says. “And I have just the one.”
He’s trying so hard not to smile.
“What?” I ask cautiously.
“Amanda Lovecox!”
I roll my eyes.
“Unless you don’t love cocks.”
“I’m not going to answer that,” I tell him. Then it hits me. “Blake Lovecox.”
He shakes his head austerely. “I only love my own.”
“Blake is a girl’s name too.”
“You don’t have to remind me.”
“So why not? I think it’s perfect.”
“Oliver Klozoff,” he says, snapping his fingers.
“Do you want to get sued by Matt Groening?” I say. “Come on. This is just classy enough that people will believe it and it won’t get caught by the Amazon censors. Believe me, I’ve been doing my research and that’s an issue.”
“Okay fine. Blake Lovecox. She’ll make you love cocks too.”
“Well, the best part is that Blake could go either way, so it keeps the mystery of who we are.” I hold out my hand. “Deal?”
He shakes it, holding it for a second longer than he should. “Deal. I’m Blake and you love cocks.”
“I can live with that. What’s next?”
“We need a plot and then a title.”
I frown. “Nah, I think we need a title and then a plot. Otherwise we’ll never decide.”
“Okay,” he says, adjusting himself in his chair. He flips through his phone and pushes it toward me. “I’ve written down all the classic tropes and the elements the book needs.”
I glance it over and read aloud. “Dirty talking alpha male. Extremely large penis. Built like The Rock. A millionaire is good, but a billionaire is better. Make sure he donates to Africa or does some charity work, even though he’s an asshole with a damaged past. Must possess pillowy lips and intense eyes that gaze into your soul.” I shoot him a furtive glance. “Sure you aren’t talking about yourself here?”
He smirks. “Wait till you get to the heroine.”
I continue. “Heroine is gorgeous but she doesn’t know it. Perfect body even though she complains about having such a small waist and big boobs. Has a cunt that tastes like honey.” I do a double take on that one.
“To be fair,” Blake says, “I’ve had some tasty cunts in my day, but none of them have tasted like honey. Still delicious though.”
I stare at him incredulously for dropping that but he just shrugs. “What? You better get used to this talk, darling, because you’re going to be writing it. There’s nothing but honey cunts and pre-cum and rim jobs from here on out.”
I take a moment to digest all that before I read on. I clear my throat. “Must be a doormat and void of personality or any interesting characteristics so that the reader can interject their own selves. A virgin is preferred, but she must be able to get off on command. Condoms aren’t necessary, but ropes and whips are. She must refer to her vagina as ‘her sex’ and be clenching constantly.” I nod at that. “I noticed the clenching too.”
“Also,” he says, taking back his phone, “the hero should be in a position of power over her and take charge from the start.”
“So degrading.”
“But it’s fantasy, so who fucking cares? You of all people should know what you can get away with in a fantasy.”
“Yeah, but I make up worlds with orcs and bird people, not football coaches getting blowjobs from cheerleaders.”
“Different strokes for different folks. And when I say strokes, I mean of the cock-handling variety.”
“Yeah I get that, thank you.” I sigh and take a sip of my beer, watching a seaplane take off in the distance. “You know, if we could actually make a career out of this, this wouldn’t be half bad.”
He grins at me. “Now you’re talking. So we have those tropes. We just keep the books the same every single time. Change the character names around, and by the way, I have a list of those names as well. The books will all follow the same formula—sex within in the first couple of chapters. Then more sex. Then they fall in love. Then they break up. Then they get back together. Happily-ever-after epilogue with a massive sex scene.”