I cheated. I wrote 400 words (I couldn't stop writing).

Cort froze, quivering with desire at the sight of the sassy Neveah. Her beauty -- was matched only by her intelligence. Despite her PhD, she was still niaive in the ways of the world. Most especially the ways of men. He knew, from listening to the small town’s gossip mill, that Neveah ’s life had been one of shelter-- a beauty of alabaster skin locked away in an ivory tower. He’d tried to ignore her, be only civil, but she enflamed him It had seemed to Cort, that such a woman would never truly want a man like him-- a former juvenile delinquent, now trying to wash away his sins as the town’s sheriff

Finally after weeks of innocent dates and a few shy kisses he pulled her into the back room of his office where he lived and swept her into his arms kissing her rosebud lips. He cautiously delved his tongue past her lips, not wanting to startle her. He knew that despite her PhD she was still innocent in the ways of love. Breathlessly she pulled away gasping

“Oh! Cort! I feel so warm…so tingly.!”

Neveah felt molten inside. Never before had she understood why other women were so exceited about sex. The few times she’d kissed boys nothing stirred in her. Not even the amn she had onced promised to marry drove her to desire. But Cort! He was a man! He made her yearn for things -- dangerous, sensous, sexy things.

“Cort! Please! I want you to make me a woman!”

Cort groaned and pulled her into a more passionate embrace. His hands roamed over her body, creeping under her shirt to stroke her back. Neveah felt dizzy, and her body sang as his hands touched where no man had before. He pulled his mouth away and she followed, like a baby bird. Blinking she looked at him “I..I.. Want…” she could barely finish the sentence. Instead, gathering her courage she slipped the straps of her dress down and let it slid unnoticed to the floor.

Cort’s eyes were riveted to Neveah’s pale skin, glowing as if lit from in. The alabaster of her skin only enhanced by the plain white tricot bra and panties she wore.

He gathered her into his arms, savoring the decadent feel of her almost naked body against his clothed one. “Neveah! Let me show you the ways of love!”

askye, that is badly bad.

I meant to put in physical descriptions, but it kept going on. This is inspired by some of the romance books I used to read where all the women were wee tiny things who were extremely innocent and virginal -- even the pregnant one. And the big huge strapping masculine men they ended up with. There was always some kind of age difference and the guy would be marveling that he could go twice in a row and how magnificant this woman was, how beautiful and something to cherish.

The women always seemed to wear tricot bras and plain underwear. And could barely finish half a sandwich while their men put away two or three.

I read a lot of those books.

I read too darn many of them, too, at 14. By the time I was 17, they made me want to barf. Until I started reading fanfic, I'd forgotten how awful some of those stories could be.

These are really and truly wonderfully bad. But Robin, I think yours was simply, elegantly, exquisitely bad. The Gaak and the Ha-cha-cha, was it?

Absolutely splendid, everybody. I'm awed, I'm incredibly entertained. So far I've not been inspired, but that may be simply because I'm stunned with how wonderfully bad the writing in this thread is, this week.

Ga'a'a'aks

I just came home from a night of feeding cats and read that, and the noise I made on reading that was, roughly, "ga'a'a'k!" because I didn't want to laugh loudly enough to scatter the cats at this time of night.

I can't seem to do either the fantasy or the romance genres badly. This might have something to do with the fact that I can't do them well, either. Or that I don't really read mmuch of either genre.

Tricky.

Woke up in the middle of the night, wandered into GWW thinking I could catch up and wondering why there were so many posts...

My gods. You should WARN a person before doing that to her! My stomach hurts. I'm not sure if it's the "writing" or the laughter.

I will definitely have to try this challenge tomorrow when I'm more awake. Back to (still giggling) bed.

You know, when I get home I should look for the really melodramatic angsty (and horrible) stuff when I was a teenager.

askye, I wrote my first novel at 15 - in Italian. It was all about a hippie on a commune, discovering the Answers to the Great Questions.

I defy anyone to be angstier than that. And that's without how badly I probably mangled the Italian.

My college one is embarrassing to me now.Not really due to angst, that was high school poetry. But I didn't know what I was doing except Maupin. Badly. And all of my scene changes were Homicide jump cuts, practically. But somebody still stole it; maybe they were hoping for porn.