When we were 13 or so, my friend Cindi and I were both enamored with Richard Lester’s Three and Four Musketeers (movies he made in order to get the backing to make Superman, btw). Cindi had a crush on Michael York’s D’artagnan, later transferring her affections to Richard Chamberlain’s suave Aramis (Richard was still in the closet as far as we were concerned), while I had the hots for Rochefort, Cardinal Richelieu’s wicked one-eyed henchman (played by a 50-something Christopher Lee, better known for his portrayal of Dracula in several Hammer horror films and as Bond villain Scaramanga, the Man with the Golden Gun). We started our own musketeer fan fiction, creating our own characters and inserting them into the world of 17th Century France. My character was Constance Du Vallon (bet you didn’t know Porthos had a sister, did you?) and Cindi’s was Roxanne Du Bois, wealthy young heiress and the object of desire amongst most of the young men of her acquaintance. Of course Constance knew how to swordfight and Roxanne was happy-go-lucky and flirtatious. As we grew older and matured, so did the little vignettes we would write for our own and each other’s characters. Let’s just say that reading many bodice ripper romances influenced the direction our writing would take, although sans explicit descriptions.
I spent New Year’s Eve at Cindi’s house one year. Her parents were out at their own party (or having one at the house; I can’t remember which) so we commandeered their mobile home parked in front of their house in Point Loma. We had alcohol. I don’t remember how we got it, although I do believe we snuck it out of the house. We had fudge and other food not meant to mix with booze. When the new year rolled around, Cindi was in the bathroom throwing up and I was happily stuffing my face with fudge. I remember yelling “Happy New Year!” and Cindi responding with something along the lines of “Bleargh.” I don’t think I even had a hangover. Ah, for the metabolism of my youth…
Cindi reminded me of this incident recently when we got together for a book meeting. Cindi is the author of several books, including Red Hot Tantra, What Men Really Want in Bed and The Bedside Orgasm Book. We are co-writing the sequel to What Men Really Want in Bed, not surprisingly named ‘What Women Really Want in Bed.” Somehow it seems fitting that our little bodice ripperlettes have led us to this point.