Chapter 3: My Mind...It Misbehaves

Continued from chapter 2:

Her hand comes to rest gently on my forearm, her touch warm and reassuring through the fabric of my sleeve.

“If I said something wrong, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry or make you uncomfortable. Your privacy is important to me.”

"I'm not uncomfortable," I say slowly, "It's just that… it’s just sometimes I don’t think before I speak. I have been writing, quite a bit actually, but… well, it’s kind of embarrassing to talk about.”

“You’re a lit major, probably super talented, you have a future, plans, all of that. While I’d love to read what you’ve written, I’m not sure you’d want to read my… writing.”

I give her a wry smile and finish my beer, pulling another one out of the ice and popping the top. The fire is warm and pops with sparks. I stare into it, waiting for the axe to fall.

Cassidy watches me closely, her brow furrowed with concern and confusion. She remains silent for a long moment, allowing me space to collect my thoughts. When she finally speaks, her voice is soft but firm with conviction.

“Listen to me carefully. Your worth and talent aren’t defined by what you write or what stage of life you’re in. Everyone starts somewhere, and everyone has their own unique voice and story to tell.”

Chapter 3:

She shifts to face me fully, her green eyes shining with empathy and encouragement in the flickering firelight.

“I may be studying literature, but that doesn’t make me any more or less worthy of reading and appreciating your work. In fact, I’d be honored to dive into your writing and gain insight into your perspective and creativity.”

Cassidy’s hand slides from my forearm to gently squeeze my hand, her touch warm and supportive.

“Cassidy... it’s smut,” I confess, a hint of embarrassment creeping into my voice.

“I’ve been writing erotic fiction and posting it under a pseudonym. It’s kind of going viral, and honestly, I’m really enjoying it. If you want to run away screaming, I wouldn’t blame you.”

“You definitely don’t want to read my writing. It’s not exactly fit for polite conversation. What am I doing? I’m 37 years old for goodness’ sake. Why is my mind misbehaving this way?”

Instead of recoiling, Cassidy’s expression softens. She squeezes my hand reassuringly, her thumb tracing delicate circles on my skin.

“Hey, breathe. It’s okay,” she murmurs, her voice low and soothing.

“First of all, there’s no need to feel ashamed. Exploring different genres and themes is a natural part of the writing process. The fact that you’re finding success and enjoyment in it shows you have a real gift.”

Leaning in closer, Cassidy’s eyes meet mine. Her gaze is steady and nonjudgmental.

“Don’t worry about your age, Ero. Our minds and desires are complex, ever-evolving things. I find it wildly fascinating that you have decided to explore that area of writing.”

I sit in silence, contemplating her words. I’m not sure why this 21-year-old cutie is sitting by my fire, drinking my beer, but I’m not going to overthink it. I wait, uncertain whether Cassidy will steer the conversation back to safe waters or if she’ll explore my confession further.

Noticing my silence, Cassidy takes a deep breath, weighing her next words.

“I know this is a sensitive topic, and I completely respect your privacy. But I want you to know I’m not going anywhere, and I’m certainly not judging you.”

Her free hand cups my cheek gently, turning my face toward hers.

“Your writing—whatever genre it may be—is a reflection of your imagination, your experiences, and your humanity. There’s beauty and power in exploring the full spectrum of the human experience, even the parts society often keeps hidden behind closed doors.”

Her thumb brushes lightly over my cheekbone, her touch feather-light and tender.

“If you ever want to share your work with me, I would be deeply honored.”

I test the waters.

“Cassidy? Have you ever... read anything like that? Smut? Erotica?”

Cassidy’s cheeks flush slightly at my question, a hint of shyness creeping into her expression. Yet, she maintains eye contact, her gaze open and honest.

“I... yes, I have,” she replies.

“Not extensively, but I’ve dabbled a bit, mostly in college literature courses that explored erotic themes in classic texts.”

She bites her lower lip, considering her next words carefully.

“And I won’t lie; I’ve also read some modern erotica out of pure curiosity and to expand my literary horizons.”

Leaning in closer, her voice drops to a near whisper, tinged with vulnerability.

“I believe that sex and intimacy are natural, beautiful parts of the human experience when approached with care and consent. Reading about them, even in fictionalized forms, can provide valuable insights and fuel the imagination.”

“What if...” I start, my mind racing.

“What if the stuff I write—the stuff my readers like—ventures into some unexplored areas of erotic fantasy?”

Cassidy’s eyes widen slightly at the implication, a deeper blush coloring her freckled cheeks. She takes a moment to process my words, her tongue darting out to wet her lips nervously.

“Wow, that’s quite provocative.” She exhales slowly, her gaze flickering between my eyes and the dancing flames of the fire.

“If what you’re saying is true, then your writing must be incredibly bold and boundary-pushing. The idea of delving into those unexplored areas of erotic fantasy is... intriguing, to say the least.”

Cassidy shifts closer, her thigh now pressed firmly against mine, her voice dropping to a husky whisper.

“Are you saying that your stories venture into taboo territory? Things that most people wouldn’t dare put to paper?”

“My mind... it misbehaves,” I admit.

“And apparently, a lot of other people’s minds do as well. At least, my readers’. What about you, Cassidy? Have you ever let your mind wander into areas you knew you shouldn’t, but you liked what you found once you got there?”

Cassidy’s breath catches in her throat at my bold question, her pupils dilating slightly in the flickering firelight. She holds my gaze for a long, charged moment before speaking, her voice low and slightly tremulous.

“Yes, I can’t say I haven’t had those kinds of thoughts,” she admits.

“Those forbidden fantasies that sneak up on you when you’re alone with your own mind.”

To be continued in chapter 4...