Guest Blogger ~ Nadine LaPierre
I “met” Nadine LaPierre last winter, when Lara Zielinski hosted Nadine, Kate Christie, RE Bradshaw and myself for an evening of interviews and readings on blogtalk radio. I was hooked – she writes stories about lesbian Royal Canadian Mounted Police Officers! I have a very special place in my heart for the mounted police, who rescued my sister years ago in the Canadian Boundary Waters. Rock on, Nadine!
When I was at university once upon a time, I wrote a paper on a neuropeptide called oxcytocin, explaining how great sex (for women) really is in the brain. O is unique in that it is a neurotransmitter (sending signals in the brain) as well as a hormone (usually sent through the body via circulatory system). Although O plays a major role in labor and reproduction, it is also responsible for the most powerful orgasms a woman will ever have. The more O that gets released in the body, the more intense the orgasm will be. And how does this hormone get released?
It’s all in the brain, baby. (Almost.)
Although small amounts of O get released with skin-to-skin contact, especially when the breasts and nipples are touched or suckled, it gets released big-time when particular neurons in the brain get the right signal. To put it simply, a woman’s physiology is such that in order to have an intense orgasm, her brain must be sexually stimulated.
That’s why I like to engage a reader’s brain before I introduce a sex scene into my book. I start off by drawing the reader into the heart and soul of the character(s), into the depths of who they are. I may then start with an almost subliminal tingle that keeps intensifying until it can be no longer be ignored and requires a powerful discharge in order to be released. By doing this, by the time the reader reaches an x-rated portion they are aching for it right along with the character. It’s very challenging, but if done well, a writer can indeed use words to bring a woman to orgasm. (It’s all in the brain, remember?)
I also use sex scenes to convey information to a reader about the psychology of a character without using a lot of narrative. You can tell a lot about a person by the type of sex they want, how they act and react during sex, etc. Simply by taking the reader along when a character has a sexual experience, you can sometimes have the reader absorb a lot of information about the characters, ranging from personality traits to ulterior motives.
For example, in my first book, The Slayer, (which is predominantly a mystery-thriller with a romantic subplot) I used a sex scene to carry a character through a journey that ends in the resolution of a long-standing barrier that kept holding her back in relationships. Now this scene is thirteen pages and two chapters long so I can’t provide the full excerpt, but here is the brief back-story pertaining to it (I’ve changed the character names so as to not give anything away).
Seventeen years ago, “Anna” and “Julie” were secret high school sweethearts—until just after graduation when Julie ran off and got married, breaking Anna’s heart. They haven’t seen each other since, and for all these years Anna has carried a very painful torch for Julie. When Julie shows up unexpectedly, Anna can’t suppress her desire for Julie, and although Julie is now married with two teenage sons she cannot deny her desires either. But are those desires coming from the same place?
Anna was never able to get over Julie, so she was never fulfilled in any of her (lesbian) relationships. Julie on the other hand, was fulfilled in many ways by her husband and children, but now that she’s in her thirties the thought of being with Anna sexually is a huge turn-on.
When they encounter each other again it begins with very hesitant, but extremely emotionally intense hand-holding and touching. As things intensify, the reader starts seeing the differences between passion and lust. And so does Anna. While their being together puts Julie in a sexual frenzy and she ends up having most intense multiple-orgasm of her life, Anna’s experience is nothing like she expected. What started off as what she thought was lovemaking ended this way:
Anna tried to gain pleasure from the thought that this was Julie, the woman she’d loved and longed for, for so many years, who was now sucking hard on her left nipple, but it felt nothing like she’d desired and fantasized about for so long. The reality she was experiencing right now was just very uncomfortable and downright painful.
Julie then shoved—quite literally—two fingers into Anna. Anna emitted a painful groan that Julie mistook for pleasure. Julie immediately started pumping forcefully, slamming the joints of her thumb and two fingers, which were boney and jutting out, into Anna’s external genitalia.
Anna started to pant, but it was purely out of frustration and agony. Julie started digging inside of Anna, at each interval in which she slammed her hand into her.
Anna audibly and physically winced, then squeezed her legs tightly, cutting off Julie’s movements. Keeping her legs gripped around Julie’s hand so it could not move and cause her further pain, Anna exhaled very pronounced breaths of relief.
“You came awfully fast,” Julie said to Anna.
Anna felt shock—and relief—that Julie thought it had been pleasurable for her. It was really Anna’s deceitful response that came quickly. “Yes, I did.”
For the first time in nearly twenty years, Anna saw Julie for who she really was—not for who Anna wanted her to be—and realized…not only was she no longer in love with Julie anymore…she didn’t even like her.
I was asked once if I felt pressured to add sex scenes in my books, and the answer is no. Because I never write a sex scene out of context. If there’s a sex scene in my book it serves a purpose, and it’s not just to get the reader turned on. Although, if in the process of my trying to get a reader to feel what a character is experiencing, if my words can release some O that results in the big O, then that’s a bOnus.
Nadine LaPierre is the author of The Slayer, the first in a thriller romance series set in Halifax, Nova Scotia, featuring a lesbian Royal Canadian Mounted Police officer.