Naughty E-Book

Nalini Narayan

• Herausgeber: e-galáxia
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 104

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Beschreibung

Naughty is a book of short stories that are little orgasmic pills, a Dionysian dive into the forbidden desires and hidden passions we would like to experience. Inspired by the poetry of Sappho of Lesbos, Nalini Narayan weaves stories that are like precious gems, each reflecting a unique facet of desire. With seductive and simple prose she challenges social conventions and standards of behavior, offering a bold and liberating vision of female sexuality.

Leseprobe

Nalini Narayan

NAUGHTY

Contents

Letter to the readers

Prologue

Little Leo, The Hustler

Luana, the kept woman

Regiane, the college girl

Ana, the Feminist

Rafael, the Triathlete

Douglas, the Black Block

Dear Professor,

Saint Flower, or Zaint Flow, the Priestess

Parole D’Angela, The Visual Artist

Marcelo, the Dentist

Nalini, The Dark One

Fe, The Bedpan

Alberto, the Slave

Mother,

Lu, the Horsewoman

Harry, the Money Slave

Luan, the Adman

Frederico, the Diplomat

Maharaj, the Guru

G., the Dirty Trick Professor

Gisele, the Bride

Fausto, the Painter

João, the Husband

Epilogue

About the author

Credits

Voice. Body. Attitude.

A woman who writes, who enunciates the exercise of human subjectivity and its complexities under any perspective or social scenario, carries with her the sign of contestation.

A woman who writes about her own sexuality and does it with skill and linguistic naturalness, spouting out the unpretentious elegance of those who don’t ask permission from hypocrisy, carries on her chest the scarlet letter painted by the society of prejudice, where respect and rights are confused with this ghost: the alleged and indigestible favor of tolerance.

Much is said about what does or does not have literary value, what theoretically can be considered relevant as artistic production in this digital age swept by virtual virtuosity.

But there is a simple emblem that often ends up being covered up by hasty intellectual patrolling that disregards the protagonism of what clearly overwrites time itself.

Nalini gives voice to the woman about whom Adorno’s dialectic speaks when referring to the “ladies of society” in “Inter pares”, in Minima moralia.

Yes, in shamelessness there is the irreplaceable audacity of exercising oneself,

to enunciate oneself, to revoke the endless power of attorney that being a woman almost automatically requires, depriving us all of the real becoming and of possibilities.

Yes, we have been colonized.

The woman is still predominantly a subaltern, as we see in Spivak: in the continuous embolism to which the female voice is subjected with docile and degrading passivity, with the exaltation of conditioned behaviors and guilt-ridden sexuality, with an already implicit “try to be less” since the discovery of her gender in her mother’s womb.

Nalini’s voice and torn scripture are important to our times as metaphor served as a liberating subliminal conduit for the literature of the classical writers: the choice to expose the “mystery, considering the time frame of its narrative, brings with it a sample of how the contemporary woman experiences an unveiling of herself, as if she were parading naked.

Those who don’t want to see must cover their eyes.

But, even so, one will hear the echoes of the ecstasy of the author, who carries each and every woman in the emblematic voice of her tales — which are so real to the point of sounding almost surrealistic.

Natália ParreirasWriter and poet

I wrote this book to save my life

N. N.

My soul is a labyrinth

Sappho of Lesbos

I must be a mermaid... I am not afraid of depths, but

I have a great fear of a superficial life

Anäis Nin

My pleasure was to feel my body getting lost

“in the immensity of other bodies.”

Catherine Millet

Every artist becomes the monster that others make of him

Nalini Narayan

Letter to the readers

I was in search of myself. I felt like a wanderer looking for answers. Answers to all the questions I carried inside of me. The plenitude of feelings that I experienced were like a whirlwind of a rollercoaster of emotions. The doubt about which path to take had invaded my soul. I had to write, I had to travel to find my treasure.

I kept my sharp sword wrapped in an olive-green velvet blanket embroidered with gold threads with the inscription: “Lux Perpetua”, my magic name. The name of the lotus flower could only be pronounced by those who knew what it is to possess the strength to be born by means of breaking through the murky waters and stretching towards the surface and the light.

Nalini means lotus flower, the flower that never gets contaminated and represents the spirit that is born from the shadows, feeds on the mud and only when it breaks the surface of the water can it blossom in beauty and spiritual purity. We are all lotus flowers. We all grow from pain, and only then we can find our true being that manifests itself as incredibly strong and beautiful.

The tonus of our physical body blossoms into understanding and universal love as we get to know the world. Only love leads to the salvation of our souls. The love we must have with ourselves, with our friends, with our children, with whom we love, with whom we are yet to love.

I plunged into the madness of the night. In the multiple orgasms of creation. I immersed myself in language like an autist, I was obsessed by the same forms, I was always talking about myself.

And then the enlightenment came to me one day. Save yourself and you will save the world.

“For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” (Mateus, 6:21)

This is a book made of love.

Welcome to the house of freedom!

Prologue

I had a thirst for knowledge. The world opened before my eyes like an immense amusement park where each moment acquired dimensions of a mystical journey that composed a dissonant symphony of heroic acts that formed the mosaic of my life. I knew from the beginning that I was not just anyone.

Since I was a child I felt very special and full of dreams. What magic would it take for my dreams to come true? While real life told me to be less than I imagined myself to be, I madly insisted that I was very, very special and interesting.

Nothing would stop me. Nothing would shake me from my inner certainty that I was the chosen one. Chosen by myself to be the best person I could be. And I would give the best of myself. I would become someone I have always been. What in childhood and adolescence had been stifled I would bring out to reveal my purest essence.

This eternal celebration of being in the world would expand everywhere. Wherever I went this energy would be present.

In this book I went deeper, I reached for my oriental roots. I used to be the androgynous girl who was afraid of men and, because I didn’t feel especially sexy, had surrendered myself to the ripples of group sex. Now a more mature and self-conscious Nalini emerges, self-conscious and in search of the sacred feminine. Understanding that nobody is an island isolated in themselves. The stories that compose this piece of writing are adventures that I have lived throughout my life and do not obey a chronological order. They are like disordered tales that can be read freely, for this is how I understand life, which, even if it develops in a crescendo, remains a mystery at every moment. It is part of a learning process which, if analyzed from the outside, resembles the imagistic mirrors of a kaleidoscope.

I can see myself in different situations. In the East, in India, in the middle of rice fields, running with my hands on my head towards nowhere, screaming, hating and loving. Delivered to despair and madness, orphaned by her father, with no way out, totally alone. Stone-pelted in Brazil, in social networks, on TV, in circles of friends and by my own family.

In India still, being carried by a rickshaw, I despise the crowd. Everything bores me. There are so many characters that I carry within me. I am an androgynous being. An extremely made-up woman. Dressed like a boy. I roam the world with no punishment in search of adventure.

I remember I buried my sword in the monastery of the word. I fly high in slow motion chasing imaginary enemies. I insist on my point of view. Forgive my pretension, but I insist on putting my thoughts on paper.

I could wander in the middle of the desert towards the treasure hidden in my heart.

Little Leo, The Hustler

Diogo was very interested in my work. He was a History scholar and intended to write the thesis “Nalini Narayan and the construction of an icon”, which would mark my entry through the front door into the university and I would no longer be relegated to the margins of culture and “high literature”. We made an appointment at a discreet hostel with a relaxed little bar. I arrived very early, I was very anxious to give this interview. I did my best. With lots of make-up, false eyelashes and everything. I looked like a caricature, but I didn’t care, the important thing was to present an unreal, iconic image, not “normal” at all.

I drank a cold beer to calm myself down. In the room, images of cangaceiros in sepia tones... But nothing that would create a nostalgic atmosphere. The colors of the bar were reminiscent of the strong tones of Tarsila do Amaral’s paintings. It looked like a very Brazilian bar, with a sort of countryside atmosphere.

A nice guy with Lampião glasses chatted me up and made me a special cocktail with ginger. I found it a bit strong, but I enjoyed it. I don’t usually drink, much less mix fermented and distilled. By the look of the guy, he seemed like a manager or owner of the place.

When the student finally arrived, I was already juiced-up, in a nice chat with the handsome man with glasses. The boy took note of all my reactions, he seemed to want to witness a real night by my side. We drew the attention of everyone who arrived at the bar. Soon a couple approached us and in a short time we were chatting very intimately: me, the couple, the university student and the manager.

This is always how a spontaneous and free night unfolds in São Paulo. It’s not so much a merit of mine. Of course I took advantage of it to increase my reputation as a naughty girl. I overdid my performance as a sad clown. I laughed artificially loud to embarrass anyone at the other tables who was critical of our collective flirtation.

On entering Narayan’s work, the ordinary reader imagines that he will satisfy his onanist masturbatory desires. The most discerning reader might imagine they will be enlightened about the “Electra Complex”, in Freud’s terms, of female infantile sexuality by the Shakespearean references and the death of the father at the beginning of the work. (...) With occasionally embarrassing clarity, the author expresses desires that are not feminine or masculine, but very much her own, an adolescent androgyny that remains her mark, avoiding the generalization of the female body. (…) she finally points her guns at a bigger issue than sexuality, but rather at the lack of quality of intelligent life on the planet. While for Freud female sexuality lies in a “dark continent”, for Narayan female desires are displayed with absurd clarity and the problematization of male sexuality becomes the big issue. Is the average modern man impotent by default?[1]

I wore a masculine perfume to impress the student. He was a bit of a child of Tropicália, with long, unkempt hair, but very well groomed; Freud enthusiast, seed necklaces. That was all very charming. Even more so reading aloud the thesis excerpt.

Everyone at the table seemed to want to fuck each other. The couple was the center of the conversation. The husband was a dealer, a jet-set dealer; she, a top executive of a multinational corporation. They frequently used ketamine or special k, a horse anesthetic.

They invited us to continue the evening in the flat they kept at the Jardins neighborhood.

The flat wasn’t big, but it had enough space for our games and pranks. It was just the four of us, the owner of the hostel didn’t came. Our fuck would happen on another occasion. Well, the guys started with cocaine and I confess it’s not my thing. I’m quite squared on that point. Very accelerated by nature, I prefer sensations that calm me down and not that speed me up. When the tray of powder came to me, I dissimulated and pretended to snort it. At one point, the student realized that I wasn’t into that vibe and accused me of “blowing”.