Liquid Silver Books, $5.95, ISBN 978-1-59578-342-4
Fantasy Erotica, 2007
Now that everyone is writing a sexy story, that annoying My Sex Fantasy Diary plot device is popping up everywhere. We have romance heroines bringing their Hello Kitty Sex Fantasy Diaries to job interviews, to school, to work, and to who knows what else, for who knows what reason. Maybe for those urgent moments when they are waiting for a bus and suddenly experiencing some special sexual fantasy that they must write down there and then, I suppose. In A Wolf’s Eyes, our heroine Jane Applebottom brings her diary to her bookstore probably because she’ll be thrilled if her employees took a peek inside and discovered marvelous entries like:
He looks deep into my eyes as his mouth latches onto my clit.
Is that even anatomically possible or is his mouth located somewhere in his crotch area?
Oh, and Jane insists that her diary has sentimental value. Oh, I’d bet.
Author Emma Sinclair then makes Jane overweight. Poor Jane. Overweight, sexually frustrated, and writes pornographic entries in her diary of purported “sentimental value” – can the poor dear be any more pathetic? How about the fact that she isn’t just a virgin, she hasn’t seen a penis before? I hope Ms Sinclair is referring to a real penis, because if Jane hasn’t seen a picture of a penis before, we may as well put her down out of pity.
The diary falls into the hands of our hero Van Wolfe. Quick, guess what kind of hero he is. No, his brother is not Van Duck and his father is not Van Damme. Jane realizes that her diary is in his hands when she looks into the mirror and somehow the mirror shows her this scene of Van Wolfe lying naked in bed and jerking off as he reads her diary. I didn’t know lines like he looks deep into my eyes as his mouth latches onto my clit (is that even biologically feasible?) can have that kind of intoxicating effect on a man.
So, by page nine, we have two really sad people frantically masturbating at the sight of the other person masturbating.
As a werewolf, he’d learned not to be surprised when odd things happened, like strange women masturbating in your mirror in the middle of the night.
Thanks to this story, I can finally appreciate how boring my life is.
The story goes on and on in a manner which I’m not sure whether to laugh or cringe at. It is one thing to present this story as a lampoon or something, but like the thing about the mirror, many of the elements in this story are in really bad taste in my opinion, and that’s saying something considering that I’m that person who has watched Happy Madison at least seven times to date. There’s some subplot about vampires and werewolves wanting to kill each other – let’s hope they all wipe out each other – but when the heroine panics over the possibility of her being turned into a werewolf in one breath and breathlessly asks the hero when they can start their affair shortly after in the same page, this story has flown out of orbit right into some cuckoo galaxy where I feel as if Ms Sinclair is having a big laugh at my expense. That or she’s really trying to put her readers off sex for good.
Van Wolfe, indeed. Give me a break.