Remittance Girl

Remittance Girl is a writer of literary erotica, commonly known as smut.

The Limits of Possession

That’s how I remember you: losing it. Your dilated pupils like obsidian mirrors in the chaos of a neural storm. Dark strands of hair plastered to your forehead, wet with the sweat of your labours and the stifling heat, still smelling of the shower you took in an effort to cool down before you fucked…

Conceiving of the unconceived – Hetero Women’s Porn

My last post generated some very interesting discussions on twitter. It is clear that, for many women, what is currently available to them in the market is adequate. There are many heterosexual women who are very happy to consume porn made for men. There are also lots of women who find porn made for gay…

#LadyPornDay and The Male Gaze

I went on a hunt today for porn for heterosexual women. And I have to tell you, I was pretty disappointed by what I found. I’m not sure whether I’m just a very odd woman, or there is a conspiracy out there bent on denying me what I want, but either way, it’s a desert…

Portrait of an Artist as Dilettante

You know I’m a modernist. I believe that creative product is forged out of effort, self-evisceration and the work that has gone before in equal measures. Something Hazel Dooney wrote on her blog has triggered a desire to rant. I’m tired of meeting people who suddenly ‘decide’ to be writers, artists,  photographers or musicians and…

Tocando – Touching trans. by Israel Centeno

This wonderful translation of my last #twitterfic piece is by Israel Centeno, a wonderful Venezuelan author. Please visit his site 1. toco como si al tocar Inquiriera aparte placas tectónicas empujan al vacío el orgullo de tu carne palabras escritas a través de la estéril pantalla de la mente 2 sacudida digital deja mi la…

Touching – #twitterfic

1. I touch as if touching pried apart tectonic plates forcing a void in the pride of your flesh made word across the sterile screen of my brain. 2. Digital shudders let me tongue your neural network and bask in the fruits of my labour evidenced in the explosive demise of your spelling skills. 3.…

Knowing – #twitterfic

1. I know as if knowing were a knot a knife a needle to the base of the skull truth pinned blind to the brain like a tail on a donkey. 2. The dead serious joke of us. Seeds planted in jest never meant for gestation. 3. This careful measured distance no word of mouth…

Enamorata – Part 2

If you’d like to start at the beginning of this story, it’s here: Enamorata – Part 1 Forty-eight hours isn’t a lot of time. And even with a judicious dose of Nozee to postpone sleep, I knew it wasn’t going to be easy to track down Annelise. Women are always harder to find than men.…

Here Lies…

I just finished Gibson’s Zero History. One of the locations in the novel is a fictional private hotel called Cabinet with an address at Portman Square in London. Before we found a house in Montague Square, my parents and I lived in a  flat at 15 Portman Square – it had an old rickety cage…