Today
I thought I’d talk about one of my favorite things: wine!
Let
me
state
at
the
outset
that
I
am
a
wine
enthusiast,
but
not
really
a
connoisseur.
We
have
at
least
a
glass
or
two
almost
every
night
with
dinner.
I'm
partial
to
reds,
particularly
Côtes
du
Rhône,
Pinot
Noir
and
Australian
cabernets.
Not
that
I'm
all
that
picky,
though.
The
house
red
will
usually
be
just
fine,
especially
when
it's
sold
by
the
liter.
I've been to a few
wine tastings. Although I learned quite a bit, “refining my palate”
as they say, it seemed a terrible waste to have to spit out all those
exquisite samples.
I
associate
wine
with
traveling.
Certainly
one
of
the
delights
of
visiting
a
new
country
or
region
is
the
opportunity
to
try
new
vintages.
My
first
international
journey
was
a
low
budget
trip
to
Spain
in
the
seventies,
with
my
closest
friend.
She
and
I
quickly
discovered
that
a
pitcher
of
vino
tinto
was
significantly
cheaper
than
a
glass
of
Coca
Cola.
The
passage
of
time
may
not
be
the
only
reason
my
memory
of
those
four
weeks
is
a
bit
hazy.
More recently, my
husband and I spent ten days in Provence, true heaven for a wine
lover. Then there was our marvelous trip to Croatia, where they call
the red wine “black” and dispense it from enormous stainless
steel tanks into the bottles customers bring to the stores. And even
after twenty years I can summon the dark fruitiness of the
Kavaklidere Papazkarasi we drank in Turkey.
In
addition
to
travel,
wine
always
makes
me
think
of
sex.
It's
not
just
the
fact
that
one
sensual
experience
leads
naturally
to
another.
In
many
societies,
wine
and
grapes
have
traditionally
been
associated
with
sexuality.
Followers
of
Bacchus,
the
god
of
the
vine,
engaged
in
frenzied
orgies
after
imbibing.
Feeding
one's
lover
ripe
grapes
has
become
a
cliché
– but
don't
knock
until
you've
tried
it!
Wine
has
been
used
in
ritual
since
ancient
times.
In
many
cultures,
including
my
own
Jewish
tradition,
sharing
wine
seals
the
marriage
bond.
My
characters
like
wine
almost
as
much
as
I
do
(and
sex,
possibly
more).
I've
written
more
than
one
scene
that
used
wine
as
an
erotic
prop.
For
example,
there's
this
bit
in
Raw Silk:
Katherine cried aloud, writhed and moaned. Then, in the midst of her climax, she felt cooling liquid filling her, streaming down her thighs. She opened her eyes. Somtow held the wine bottle and was deliberately pouring the remaining contents into her vagina, an almost childish delight on his face.‘Ah, my Katherine!’ He leaned over and began to drink the wine from her flesh, lapping the ruby drops from her thighs. ‘Excellent wine, but the taste can only be improved by mixing in your delicious liqueur.’
Then
there's
this
snippet
from Nasty Business:
That was the night, I recall, that he bathed me in champagne. Such a cliché, I know, right up there with whipped cream, but how many women have actually felt the marvelous sensation of a million tiny bubbles bursting between their legs? The pleasure was incredible, just sitting in the tub while Liu poured bottle after bottle of the chilled, prickly wine over my shoulders and breasts. Then he leaned over and licked me, sucking the sweetness from my nipples, growing intoxicated (as he said) from drinking my flesh.That was not enough for him. He grew mischievous, bidding me with mock severity to kneel in the tub with my buttocks in the air. “Spread yourself wide,” he instructed, nudging my thighs apart and bringing my hands up to my sex. I was more than willing to hold my puffy labia apart as he drenched my vagina in Chateau Rothschild ‘88. Then, he actually inserted the neck of bottle into my hungry cunt, and tipped the remaining liquid into my inner cavities.
Wine
features
prominently
in
the
plot
of
Incognito,
though
it
doesn't
manage
to
make
its
way
into
anyone's
orifices.
The
heroine's
cat
knocks
a
glass
of
wine
onto
an
antique
journal.
The
liquid
reacts
with
the
invisible
ink
to
reveal
the
original
owner's
very
private
confessions.
Just
for
the
heck
of
it,
I
counted
the
number
of
times
the
word
“wine”
appears
in
that
novel.
Thirty
six
times!
And
of
course
that
doesn't
include
references
that
use
a
synonym
or
a
specifier,
like
“Pinot
Grigio”
or
“Merlot”.
So at this point
you probably think that both I and my characters are lushes. Not so!
Though I may be tempted, only rarely will I imbibe before the sun
goes down. And I know my limit (about three glasses). I'm clumsy
enough when I'm sober!
There
is
something
fantastically
decadent
about
wine
in
the
afternoon,
however.
You
never
know
what
will
happen.
I
recall
a
visit
to
a
California
winery
with
one
of
my
first
lovers,
long
ago.
After
sampling
the
various
vintages
available
(and
purchasing
a
few
bottles
as
souvenirs),
we
were
too
inebriated
to
drive
back
to
our
hotel.
So
he
ravished
me
in
the
back
seat
of
his
car,
tucked
away
in
the
shade
in
a
far
corner
of
the
parking
lot.
The
wine
seemed
to
heighten
my
senses
rather
than
dull
them.
Afterward,
a
golden
glow
suffused
the
afternoon
– an
aura
of
magic.
I still can't see a
bottle from that particular vineyard without tumbling into
intoxicating memory.
I turned my
memories of that visit (significantly augmented) into a short story,
entitled A Case of You. I’d be happy to send you a copy. All
you need to do is leave me a comment with your email address.
