Archives: religion

Two short stories for free online reading

As my first week (er, honestly, nearer to my first 3 days) of government-encouraged isolation comes to an end, my heart is lighted by the latest issue of Cliterature Journal and a piece of mine appearing in The Erotic Review. Both are free to read.

Cliterature’s GOD/DESS issue includes an excerpt from my story “Annunciation,” about gender, Catholicism, queer desire, and growing up in the middle of them. Fittingly, the issue came out just a few days past the Feast of The Annunciation.

We talked about family and gifts, sacraments and liberation theology and martyrs. What scars through resurrected hands and feet mean to survivors. You told me about WATER’s liturgies and discussions for queer women. The label was still new to me then. Once in high school, a boy had sneered to my best friend and I, “What are you, lesbians?” (I haven’t seen him since, unfortunately). You used both words with equal pride.

I told you about Gabriel.

We spoke all the way back to my dorm.

“It was great talking to you.”

“Gosh, yeah.”

And I let you kiss my lips instead of my cheek; I kissed you back; I went up to my room and sinned thoughtlessly, unselfconsciously, but afterwards I lay awake and thought and prayed.

The next Saturday, I invited you to my room for us to finish our project. Which we did, in record time. And then—Two women together in a bedroom.

“You’re so beautiful,” I say, placing your folded socks on my chair without looking away from your hands as they open your shirt. The silver Miraculous Medal gleams at your throat beneath the rainbow bandana. I’ve put my rosary aside. “You’re the most…awesome, amazing woman I’ve ever met.”

You don’t seem to know what to make of that, but after a moment you smile. I lean closer, placing my hands on your knees. Your body’s warmth beats through your jeans.

“Okay,” I say—reassuring myself more than you. Be not afraid. “This is . . . better than okay.”

At the Erotic Review, “Like That“–part of what may one day become a proper romance novel–shows how two former lovers briefly become closer to each other. It’s also more than a little kinky.

While it was going so well, he’d proposed handcuffs. She accepted, enthusiastically. And when he brought over the pair he’d picked up at the porn store off the highway, she’d hopped onto her bed and raised her hands toward the headboard. That was when he realised maybe he hadn’t been clear. Or in her eagerness she had misinterpreted him.

But she was so eager to have them put on her. So he did.

It was fun, although he was slower to get hard than he’d ever been. At first he worried he wouldn’t be able to get into it. But she was, after all, naked — beautifully so — and her excitement became contagious.

The fact was, Leo liked doing what women wanted. But this time, he felt out of place — enjoying it, but in the way he would enjoy accidentally crashing someone else’s party.

Poetry in Cliterature Journal

In an exciting slip into a new genre, I have a poem, “Stiff-Necked in Respect Life Month,” out in Cliterature’s latest issue–Birth Control. 

As you might expect from the title, it’s about a struggle with Catholicism on many fronts (and was actually written in October). It is, for now, the final home of a first line that badly wanted to begin something–a blog post, a flash fiction, and ultimately a poem:

My bedside drawer holds a rosary and a vibrator...

“Annunciation”

Mofo publishing’s latest anthology of literary erotica, Sacrilege, comes out August 17th. This week I’m sharing excerpts from both my stories in it.

“Annunciation” is a Marian devotion, a confession, a denunciation, and a love story about growing up queer in the Catholic Church.

Annunciation

Gabriel

The Nativity is the third Joyful Mystery.

My first crush was on the archangel Gabriel, who I thought was a woman.

I stared at the illustrations in my religion textbook, studying every nuance of the figure, taller than the kneeling Mary (or even when kneeling to Mary) but slender. Details of that long body were masked by a white gown that flowed to bare feet, draped the wrists of gesturing hands. The beardless, fine-featured face was framed by a cascade of golden hair. These details recurred in image after image. Already half-daydreaming, I skimmed text that spoke of “the angel,” and I knew girls named Gabrielle.

So to me, the Annunciation was always a matter of two women together in a bedroom.

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“Deliver Us”

Mofo publishing’s latest anthology of literary erotica, Sacrilege, comes out August 17th. This week I’m sharing excerpts from both my stories in it.

“Deliver Us” is a lighthearted and angry look at the kind of sex that will get you sent to hell. Namely, exorcism roleplay, with bondage, warming oils, and getting almost too deeply into character–

Deliver Us

Ryan might have made a mistake in telling her that his first awakening to bondage had come through some C-movie about an exorcism. Watching that lissome teenager writhe, strapped down on the table—though just a kid himself, he’d known something was going on, something even beyond the desperate, weirdly poignant straining for salvation. Years later, he found out exactly what. And years after that, he confessed.

And now he was about to lose his immortal soul over it.

But God, Ann looked good in a Roman collar.

“I thought about being a nun,” she said, running her fingers over it. “But in the end it didn’t work out.”

“No kidding.” He grinned. “When it comes to nuns, I always think about . . . either sweet little old lady campaigners of social justice or else rulers across the knuckles.”

“Seriously. When I was younger, I thought I might have a vocation.”

“You’ve never mentioned that before.”

She shrugged, and he remembered that she didn’t talk much about her Catholicism in general. Or her ex-Catholicism. Which seemed more likely, given her continued playing around with the collar. She brushed away the ends of her brown curls hanging over it.

“Anyway,” she said, “I just thought of it when I put this on. Since they don’t let women become priests. A Sister would be as close as I could get.”

“I think you’ll make a good priest,” he told her.

“Thanks.” The moment of softness passed from her eyes, and she leaned over him. Loomed, really. When he stood, they were the same height, but Ryan always felt as if he shrank five feet when he was tied up. And the improvised vestments seemed to do something for her—she grew in them.

She said, “But after all, there’s lots of things they don’t let good Catholic girls do. Extramarital sex . . . sex not for the purposes of procreation . . . most of everything we’ve ever done.”

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Upcoming stories

My cup overfloweth. Contracts are signed, edits are underway, and I just discovered that I’ll be sharing the tables of contents in two upcoming anthologies with some very excellent people.

Your cup might overflow as well, dear reader, because in each of these anthologies I have two stories.

In MoFo’s third anthology, Religion (originally Sacrilege), my stories are kind of different from each other, but between them cover plenty of my Roman Catholic influences.

“Deliver Us” is about what happens when you get exposed to bondage through B-movies about exorcisms, and your girlfriend is an ex-Catholic who once wanted to be a priest.

(When your boyfriend did become a priest and you want to rescue him from his decision, you get A Last Touch of Grace. Comparing that story in 2016 to these stories in 2017 probably reveals something interesting about my spiritual journey.)

“Annunciation” is a semi-autobiographical novella in flash about growing up queer in the Catholic Church. Novella in flash might be a slight exaggeration, but I’ve recently fallen in love with the form and its cousins after reading Sylvia Brownrigg’s Pages for You—even if I didn’t manage a “true” novella of the appropriate length and independence of the composite flash pieces, it was fun experiment. The format might also be influenced by the 5 + 1 fanfiction genre, in which case we have “Five times I* believed lies the Church told me about gender and sexuality and one time I figured it out,” I guess, or maybe “Five times I really missed the fact that I was queer and the realization(s) that put me right.” Not only was “Annunciation” fascinating to write (I said these stories “covered a lot of my Roman Catholic influences,” but what I learned most is how much is left to uncover), I also got a little angry. In “Deliver Us,” too. That seemed to fit MoFo’s call, which includes “a preference for Catholicism—the eroticism and hypocrisy are built right in.”

The narrator of “Annunciation” first identifies the androgynously-illustrated Gabriel as female, “So to me, the Annunciation was always a matter of two women together in a bedroom. “

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