Naughty Bits

Sex scenes you can be glad you didn’t write (much less live through)

THE smooth bed waited for 1 them, as if it knew—as she did—what the gruffness in his voice had meant. His eyes were already filled with all the elsewherenessof sex.. . .

His hands clutched her waist, as she fought them off. But still, he grabbed her, stroking her more furiously, then parting her thighs and touching her.

“You’re still dry,’’ he said threateningly, as if she had disobeyed him. “Take this off,’’ he told her. “Go over there and spread your [naughty bits] for me.”

She shook her head. “No,” she said, backing away, “not now. Not now, Alex.’’ The moon had thrown maze-patterns of light against the walls; she thought of Knossos.

(Shadows and Light byFrancesca Stanfill, Doubleday)

The dress rucked above her knees, then rose higher as her body reached the deep foliage of the Persian rug. She had nipples like oatmeal biscuits with small pink tips. Her skin seemed to be dusted with icing sugar, it smelt of marzipan. He threw off his clothes.. . .

(The Banquet by Carolyn Slaughter, Ticknor & Fields)

As he ran his fingers lightly over her abdomen, he asked, “What is that long scar across your stomach?” His fingertips traced the eight-inch ridge that ran from just under her left breast to her right hipbone. He deserved the truth, she decided. Maybe it would cool his ardor. “I was gang-raped when I was nineteen. That’s just one of the scars they left me.”

“Really?’’ he asked, his hands moving lower and more excitedly. “How many were there?”

“Hoodlums, you mean? Only five, but it seemed like a hundred.”

“What was it like?” he asked, and she could hear his breath coming faster, and his fingers began to explore inside her body. The beast was getting turned on by her agony!

(Fame & Fortune by Kate Coscarelli, St. Martin’s Press)

Laurel withdrew her finger. Nicholas opened his eyes and looked down at her. She was spitting out his [naughty stuff]; she told him it was two hundred calories a shot and she’d rather use it up on white wine. She wiped her chin on his stomach.

(AlmostParadise by Susan Isaacs, Harper & Row)

Her body shook as Joe lowered himself onto her. Sex, though, can have a mind of its own, and despite her emotions, despite the way they were kissing, she could not let go. She was dry. Like a car that won’t turn over, she would strain and strain and the ignition would not catch. She could not believe this was happening. Joe was moving like a jackhammer and she was dead inside, as if she had been shot with Xylocaine.

He slipped out.

“ I’m embarrassed. ”

He put a finger on her lips. “We’ve been keeping the gates locked for so long, they don’t just open. They have to be oiled, softened.”

(Friends of the Opposite Sex by Sara Davidson, Doubleday)

Her legs remained together— there were no banners and confetti for him, no welcoming committee—and he had to maneuver his hand through an obstacle course before he could push a finger inside her. She wriggled in discomfort.. . . When her breathing grew shallow and quick, when she was moving with his finger, he whispered to her, “Oh little one, open your legs,” which she tried to do, but her legs tightened instead. In consolation, she patted his erection, a stray dog that roused in her pity and concern about fleas.

(Elbowing the Seducer by T. Gertler, Random House)

—Compiled, in a swooning daze, by James Wolcott