Guest Blog - About "He"
by Stephan Morsk
Thanks so much to all of you at Books & Tales for allowing me to introduce myself and my work to you. My name is Stephan Morsk. I’ve published a book entitled “HE:A Sexual Odyssey” and hope to introduce it to you with some excerpts. First, I’m a mental health professional who writes daily for the past 15 years or so. I’ve won a 7th and an 8th place in a Writer’s Digest Contest out of a field of 19,000, published short stories, won honorable mentions and received praise from Kirkus Reviews. My work falls roughly into the erotica genre, but I’ve made up my own term, mysteroticom, to encompass mystery, comedy and erotica on one evangelical souffle. My favorite author is Norman Mailer.
Enough about me. My writing tends to centrifugate around the theme of male salvation by women, sometimes very problematic women. The sexual and emotional power of women is another theme that emerges repeatedly. Finally, the arbitrariness of gonzo fate, blitzkrieg karma is often bound to land my protagonists in untenable situations through no fault of their own.
In “HE” the protagonist is an unnamed, thirty-ish law student living in Manhattan. He’s somewhat introverted, rather isolated from the common hub of humanity and seeking salvation from his hermit-like existence by finding Ms. Right. He knows that out there is the one woman who will bestow upon him something akin to connection, some elusive visceral, testicular thread to the human race.
Misha is one candidate but is gorgeous, young and, he presumes, out of his league. She’s so enticingly hot he grabs the shirt she’s left in the foyer of the apartment of his ex-boss.
Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, a sensation nonpareil invading his nostrils and lording his olfactory tubercle, marauding down his spinal cord and initiating a gonadal reflex complete with phallic tumescence, his cobalt lust the closest thing he could enjoin in the Milky Way of Misha gratification.
His reverie was broken when the cloth was snapped from his fingers. There, standing above him, was the albescent Misha, a tart smirk gracing her lips, which were yanked to one side of her face in denunciation. “You’re pathetic,” she said, a sly smile orchestrating her mouth. p.10.
“HE” does end up in a relationship with Misha, but it turns out to be a sado-masochistic one in which she texts him the times she’ll be in a restaurant with her real boy friend. Then they hook up clandestinely in the women’s room and he performs sexual humiliations at her bequest. Why he goes along with this he’s not quite sure.
Another candidate for deity is Eve who “HE” encounters in a coffee shop. He notices her breast are ‘freaks of nature’ in their energetic buoyancy.
But it was her breasts that intrigued him. He’d seen breasts like those once before in a store in San Francisco, some trinket place that sold small souvenirs. The woman, a cashier, undoubtedly noticed his impertinent stare. Her breasts were viscerally launched form the radix of her chest, two emotive munificent barrels at right angles to her ribs. It was not their size, but their rectitude, draped loosely with a thin fabric that astonished him. He could not help but ogle. These were the same in a woman who sat nonchalantly imbibing a chai latte. He was entranced, nor did he believe she noticed him through his dark sunglasses, which lent anonymity to his gaze. He could stare unabashedly. p. 11.
When she departs she accidentally leaves her briefcase and he makes a mad dash to return it to her unsuccessfully. But, there’s a cell phone in the briefcase along with some cut out pictures of women’s body parts, and the phone rings reuniting her with him. Eventually he returns the briefcase and cell phone to her whereupon she disappears probably forever much to his dismay. When, one day she shows up at his door unexpectedly he’s more than a little overjoyed.
“I’ll be staying a while,” she said. He nodded excitedly at the news. Not that he had invited her. She’d brought her bosoms, and that was enough to engage his endorsement. “I’m in a bit of a mess,” she said, cutely as ever. She kept tossing off phrases, warnings really, puntos de informacion by way of explication. “I’m not who you think I am,” she said. Then finally, “I carry a gun.”
Ignoring all this data momentarily, he asked, “Can I get you anything?” p. 37.
She can do no wrong in his eyes. If Eve had said she was a mafia kingpin he would have welcomed her unflinchingly into his abode. Unfortunately she falls into a coma and has to be carted away by ambulance. He’s left to explore the contents of her purse and a small suitcase she left behind containing several compartments.
First one: a small bag of cannabis sativa. Rolling papers in a white cover and a book of matches. He replaced it and zipped it up. Second one: photos. These were not like the ones in the briefcase, but filthy renditions of HER in various poses of concupiscence... her legs pulled up to reveal the snooty tuft of her pubic hair; on hands and knees on a mattress from the back, revealing everything; her upper body, head thrown back and tongue wagging no doubt to someone’s pleasuring lips, etc. There must have been twenty of them. He replaced them for further inspection. Third: a long tube of something heavy. Opening the end, which unscrewed, he saw inside something metallic. It slid out easily and looked like a long solid pipe of... what? Platinum? Titanium? P. 40.
Whatever it is leads to contact with an international group of thugs determined to repossess it. He meets another potential savior in a hotel lobby who refers to herself only as Tinkerbell. Just his luck she turns out to be an ex-Russian whore, lesbian gangster type who eventually has sex with him in exchange for the rod. At the same time she manages to slip something nefarious into his vodka. When she finally leaves with the rod and the cash she had promised would be his, “HE” realizes he needs immediate medical attention.
Collapsing more than sitting onto the back seat, he said, “Mount...”
“What?” the man asked. “Can’t hear ya’, brother.”
“Mount,” he said again, the words sticking on his lips. He was getting daffier by the moment.
“Mount... what?” the cabby said.
“Cy... an... ide...”
“Mount Cyanide?”
Shaking his head no, he said, “Sigh... nigh...”
“Oh, Mount Sinai hospital?” the guy asked. He nodded. “You all right, brother?” He shook his head no.
“Mer... gen... see...”
“You ain’t gonna die on me in my cab are you?” He shook his head no. “Okay, then I’m movin’. Otherwise I call you a ambulance man. Got no dyin’ in my cab, brother. Uh, uh.” p. 65.
Once again his quixotic quest for Ms. Right proves more than a little disastrous.
Well, I hope I’ve teased you enough to consider giving “HE: A Sexual Odyssey” a chance. I can assure you you won’t be disappointed. It is available in soft cover at Amazon, e formats on Nook and Kindle. I maintain my own website morsklitmonthly.com with a new short story monthly. I’m on Twitter at @SMorsk. Facebook too.
Thanks again for letting me share a bit of my novella with you.
Stephan Morsk
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Stephan Morsk
ASIN: B00E3GZPTI
ISBN: 0-7414-8224-X
Genre: erotica
Book Trailer
Available at: Buy Books on the Web | Amazon
Book Description:
In HE the unnamed protagonist, a law student, is involved with a series of women who either loathe him, try to poison him, save his life or exploit him sexually. The first is the nanny of his ex boss’ kid. She sends him a hateful letter, enclosing a pubic hair and rubbed with pheromones. After observing a woman in a coffee shop whose breasts are ‘freaks of nature’ she leaves a briefcase and departs. He’s unsuccessful in returning it to her, but this karmic event exposes him to a bevy of dangerous and seductive paramours.
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Stephan Morsk is a mental health professional who writes daily. He won a 7th and an 8th place in the Writer’s Digest competition 2001 out of a field of 19,000 writers. He has published a short story and won honorable mentions in other years. His web site morsklitmonthly.com offers a new short story each month. He is interested in novellas and recently submitted “Parrot Moon” to the Paris Literary Prize. He’s finished several other short books, part of a four part series including “HE”, “Trashy Novel-A Love Story”, “She” and “I”. He lives in rural Minnesota with his family. Favorite novelist, Normal Mailer. He enjoys exercise and is a reasonable amateur magician.
http://morsklitmonthly.blogspot.com/
http://www.morsklitmonthly.com/
http://www.amazon.com/Stephan-Morsk/e/B00C41SIM0/
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