Author Craig J. Sorensen wrote the following guest post.
Growing up in a small town in Idaho, I was raised to believe that the very notion of looking in on the private lives of others was unthinkable.
I secretly loved the idea, but in my little rural subdivision, I never worked up the nerve to try my hand at a peep. I didn’t want to chance getting caught. Everyone knew everyone, and that would be a heinous crime.
As such, my first peep show was as a teenager in New York City. We were on a high-school trip and we four potato-fed Idaho boys crept out of our room at a dive of a hotel near Times Square. Beyond the standard stops that they took students, Empire State building, Statue of Liberty, and so on, we found an adult bookstore.
In the back of the store were booths with the little locks like one would see in a pay toilet. For the price of a quarter, I got my first Peep Show.
This was not a live peep (what did you expect for a quarter, kid?)/ But the experience was memorable. The show was the grandchild of the nickelodeon, and instead of watching through a small viewer akin to turn of the twentieth century stereopticon, it flashed on the door in front of me. The scene was dimly lit, matching the vibe of the small booth, and featured a young woman slowly working a glowing dildo over her body.
My friends saw much more graphic depictions of sex in their pay-by-the-pump shows.
I felt cheated. I’d never seen an adult movie and the show I saw seemed scarcely more graphic than a spread in Playboy or Penthouse, which was something I’d seen plenty of. But the image of this peep grew on me. In the end, I’m thankful that I saw the show that I did. The image was much more lasting than what was described by my friends. Maybe it says something that when a couple of them went back for another show, I didn’t.
Thirty years hence, I wonder how much of this brief film is as I remember it. Was her face so beautiful, in such rapture? Were the splashes of colors that emerged beside the roaming dildo in the red-is-grey-and-yellow-white surroundings as vivid? Was that crease down the middle of her stomach and the ridges bordering her ribs so tactile? Did her nipples rise so temptingly from her nubile breasts at the trace of the object?
Was her pubic hair, back lit by the dildo when it re-emerged from her folds really sweet-strawberry-blonde?
This was one of those slow-fuse lessons that erupts suddenly on growing perspective. I’ve been known to read the music to a song I’ve listened to for years only to find that certain notes or accents were only in my head.
I now wonder if the dildo even penetrated her body.
I now know that the magic in the peep is not just the show before us, but our investment in the tension it creates.
My story, “Ownership” from Rachel Kramer Bussel’s Peep Show examines the dynamic not only of peeping, but our investment in the peep, and how a peep becomes more vivid, like the light of the dildo along that girl-on-film’s body. The images that stay with us are often the surprise. The strange, magic moment that could never be repeated.
This is the essence of erotica – the essence of a peep.
Until next time, happy peeping!
Below is an excerpt from “Ownership” by Craig J. Sorsensen. Read the entire story in Peep Show: Erotic Tales of Voyeurs and Exhibitionists. Read excerpts from all 18 stories in Peep Show here.
Troy scooted closer to Kendall and handed the other beer to her.
Her eyes were the deep slate color of storm clouds when a small shaft of sunlight had managed to peek through. Her cheeks were bright red with a bit too much blush and her slim lips were slivers of vermilion. Soft blue eye shadow shimmered like mica in a cool riverbed.
Kendall’s body language remained shy, but her full hip pressed his. The aroma of mint and beer crossed the tiny divide between their faces. She accepted Troy’s first, soft kiss. He moved his lips slowly side to side against hers, and her mouth finally opened a little. His tongue could barely fit in. The tip of her tongue was rough and tasted of malt and honey. She received the kiss awkwardly but a deep moan promised great passion. Troy’s cock was hard as a girder. He kissed along her full cheek then gently licked her ear. She moaned, and her soft curves conformed to his skinny frame like a fitted sheath to a balanced blade.
Kendall pushed him gently away and took another drink. He nuzzled her neck until another breathy sigh issued from her chest. Troy unbuttoned the top button of her blouse. Her hand started to rise as if to push him away again, but relaxed and stroked his forearm as he nuzzled again and moved down the blouse. It fell open. Troy pulled off his T-shirt. Kendall combed his chest hairs with her fingers while he untucked her blouse and peeled it from her shoulders. “Umm, just because we took off our shirts—I mean, I don’t want you to think we’re going to—” Kendall covered her bra with one arm.
“Oh, sure, sure.” Troy smiled reassuringly. His cock pushed at his zipper like a lifer on the verge of a prison break. Troy was a skilled fisherman, and knew the essential value of patience.