My First Smut is a recurring feature where we talk about our formative smut experiences. These short confessionals may include such details as: What book did you read? How old were you? Were there other people involved? What made the experience special? What role does smut play in your life?
This week, we tell Barbara’s story.
When I was in junior high school, I babysat for a pastor and his wife. They were very cool. Progressive. It was1968. Sitting on their end table was a paperback. Bored, with the kids asleep, I started to read. It was The Harrad Experiment by Robert H. Rimmer. I’m not sure it qualifies as smut for this blog, but OMGoodness.
In high school I babysat for another very cool couple who went out every Saturday night – all dressed up, heels and jewels, suit. He owned a big business – the kind that everyone needs sooner or later. Again, kids in bed, paperback on the end table, I started to read. Fear of Flying by Erica Jong. The sexual revolution was mainstream.
Next up, a little paperback with a white cover and simple title: The Story of O. When my daughters started to read, I removed it from the bookcase, not wanting to provide their introduction to such content. Then there was Delta of Venus, Lady Chatterley’s Lover…
But wait, you say, that’s not smut.
You know how they say your first (sometimes naughty) delights are introduced by close friends or family members, not some random punk on the street? OK, then, my first smut was introduced to me by my daughters. Yes, in the guise of improving SAT scores, they convinced me to read smut, easing me in with an author and series of novels that I have since read twice.
Georgette Heyer will forever be my favorite romance author. Her books so accurately describe the period, the clothes, mannerisms, and manner of speaking of Regency England that – being a word nerd – a subtle twist of phrase can have me laughing out loud. I am forever spoiled by the way her characters stay ‘in character’, not spouting phrases of a modern era as so many historical romance characters do. Heyer’s characters are sweet, the plots engaging, and the outcomes sure. There is no hot sex, but a kiss and tender embrace at the very end. True love conquers romance. You can safely give a copy of Cotillion to your 90-year-old grandmother, as my daughter did.
Yes, another sneaky addiction foisted on a close relative. That’s often how it starts.
Have an early smut experience you’d like to share with us? If you’d like to see your story featured, send us a note and we’ll post it in an upcoming week.
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