$7.99
ISBN 0352341637
available through
Amazon
Reviewed by Gary Meyer
(01/23/08)
The term "erotic romance" might conjure up a tale with a few tastefully described bouts of discreet lovemaking. Gwen Masters' One Breath at a Time is wall-to-wall, explosive, virtuoso sex. It's a good thing that leather-clad weight bench is bolted to the floor. Our heroine, a writer named Kelley, has some unfinished business regarding an ex-boyfriend who broke her heart boasting about what he'd done with his ex on just such a bench. Emotional baggage is the theme, and Kelley has a lot of unpacking to do. She can't do it alone.
Luckily, according to romance conventions, just when she's most in need of some serious sexual healing, Kelley meets cute with the man of dreams she's never dared to have -- at gunpoint no less! Tom is tall, handsome, buff, and dangerous: ex-military, and current security for hire. Does he have a weight bench? "Baby, I have a whole gym!" Plus he's sensitive, he reads extensively, he cooks, and he goes in for a kiss with a dish towel draped over his shoulder. (Guess which gender's the target audience here.) Downside is he's worked for top touring rock bands and has had as many groupies as they have.
Kelley and Tom's redemptive sex is much rougher than a mere bodice-ripping or two. Here Masters makes a major educational contribution by illustrating that rough sex doesn't have to mean crude or careless sex: forceful doesn't have to be brutal. She observes that negotiation isn't a onetime surrender, but an ongoing process. These lessons, as well as the concept of a safeword, are seamlessly integrated into the action. Tom checks in often to ascertain how Kelley's doing. In addition to a safeword, Kelley and Tom have a goword: "Please."
There's no didacticism here, only the recognition that consensual sex comes in many flavors. No big deal is made of Tom's impressive collection of BDSM toys, which are soon put to good use. There's no deep, metaphysical justification; no archetypes of dominant and submissive; Tom simply explains: "A lot of people are into this." It can hurt so good that Kelley never minds waking up sore all over. Masters intuitively realizes that rough sex done right is about resilience, not damage.
This pair of insatiable lovers fancy the pants off each other, and frequently -- Tom's refractory period seems unusually minimal, another genre trope -- and in settings where they could easily be observed in flagrante delicto: on the veranda, on the picnic table, in the car. Potential exposure is part of the thrill. Their many thrills come in creative variety: oral, anal, and verbal to name but a few; from a slow, voluptuous caning to deep throating to vaginal fisting.
The author is having fun here, putting her own stamp on Erotic Romance's fairly stringent formal requirements, and her enjoyment is infectious. Tom is so macho, he wears camouflage underwear. There are repeated references to "Tom's cabin." Kelley thinks, "No one would hear me scream." The lovers banter nonsensically:
"You don't taste like anything," I blurted, and he laughed as he pulled me up to his side.
"Is that a compliment or not?"
"It's neutral, like Switzerland."
"I taste like Switzerland."
The book is briskly paced and crafted in taut, well-honed, rhythmic prose. Masters favors hard-bitten noir accents:
"I hardly knew this man, but I knew he could give me what I needed, and that was enough."
"You like it rough." It wasn't a question.
"I'm a junkie and you're the drug."
She manages to find evocative descriptions in a realm where every possible act has already been described a million times: "Suddenly my sphincter gave under the pressure, and the head of his cock pushed inside. The pain slithered down my pussy and deep into my womb, where it throbbed in time with my heartbeat."
One Breath at a Time will delight readers of any gender looking for long, lovingly detailed depictions of every kind of het sex under the rainbow.
