That Henry Miller Knew How to Write a Letter

In an age of emails and texts, have we lost touch with the erotic letter? Oh come on, a sexy email isn't the same. Most mediums, I reckon, lack the guts, heart and soul of a letter. Consider the fact that your lover handled the writing paper with the same fingers he touched you with last night. And what of the hand it's written in, and the fact that any drafts would have had to have been ripped up before the final was placed in an envelope and the seal adequately licked? Plus you get to open it, sliding your finger down the join... Sheesh, does an email even start to compare?

So here's one of my favourite love-letters ever, sent from Henry Miller to Anais Nin, in the 1930s. Direct language. Repeated use of "I". Short, gasping sentences full of desire, and monosyllabic words that punch a hole in your bikini. This man knew that romance was heart, mind and groin, and he wasn't afraid to show it. He also understood that love is complication, and his expression of this makes for a fervent passion.

Apologies at blocking out the 'c' and 'f' words. I just don't want this blog to become unavailable content!

Here, have a read:

Yes, Anais, I was thinking how I could betray you, but I can’t. I want you. I want to undress you, vulgarize you a bit—ah, I don’t know what I am saying. I am a little drunk because you are not here. I would like to clap my hands and, voila—Anais! I want to own you, use you. I want to f-ck you, I want to teach you things. No, I don’t appreciate you—God forbid! Perhaps I even want to humiliate you a little—why, why? Why don’t I get down on my knees and just worship you? I can’t. I love you laughingly.

Do you like that?

And, dear Anais, I am so many things. You see only the good things now—or at least you lead me to believe so. I want you for a whole day at least. I want to go places with you—possess you. You don’t know how insatiable I am. Or how dastardly. And how selfish!

I have been on my good behavior with you. But I warn you I am no angel. I think principally that I am a little drunk. I love you. I go to bed now—it is too painful to stay awake. I love you. I am insatiable. I will ask you to do the impossible. What it is I don’t know. You will tell me probably. You are faster than I am. I love your c---, Anais—it drives me crazy. And the way you say my name! God, it’s unreal. Listen, I am very drunk. I am hurt to be here alone. I need you. Can I say anything to you? I can, can’t I?

Come quickly then and screw me. Shoot with me. Wrap your legs around me. Warm me.

[Henry]

From A Literate Passion: Letters of Anais Nin and Henry Miller 1932-1953

Phew! Pass me the water spray, Romeo...

The picture comes from "Secret Identity: The Fetish Art of Superman's Co-Creator, Joe Schuster."

Frosting First

I'm thrilled to announce that my erotic story, Frosting First, will be published in Rachel Kramer Bussel's forthcoming collection, Orgasmic, which focuses on female pleasure. Many thanks, both to Rachel and the folks at Cleis Press. I'm excited!